#this is gonna end with me cracking and reading the first fic that catches my eye tomorrow I fucking know it

[patheticpat]

Oh I’m trying so hard to not be so bad rn and go “I got an ending! I’ll read the spoiler fics now!” When I desperately need to go to sleep and I’m going to try for the secret boss/ending tomorrow!! For the love of gods why must I have work tomorrow!! I want to be so bad I have to knowww-

[hyuckiefluff]

dr dreamy | na jaemin

pairing: doctor!neighbor! na jaemin x fem.reader genre & wc: smut, fluff, crack (ish) | 18k summary: in which your infuriatingly hot neighbor ends up getting your box of sex toys delivered to his door by mistake content warning: explicit smut, breast play, oral sex (fem.receiving), brief mentions of sex toy usage, teasing, marking, dry humping, cowgirl (yeehaw), alcohol consumption, monster cawwwk jaemin (i didn’t make this up it’s real) a/n: hiiiii yes yes i know, it’s been forever and ive neglected you all so bad i’m so sorry ! i can’t even use the excuse of being too busy bc i was just in the worst writing slump of my life. but i hope i can make up for all those 10 months of radio silence with this long fic :) also it’s pretty different from what i’m used to writing. for once i wrote it all in lowercase bc i felt like this was lowkey a pretty unserious fic and that was the vibe it required lol it’s also my first time trying to write something “funny” but my humor is not that good still i tried lolz. also i'd like to add that i know as much about doctors as the next person so don't expect much accuracy in that regard. anyways hope you enjoy :)

read part two here

your leg bounced anxiously as you stared at the photo the delivery guy sent, trying to figure out which door your package had ended up on. every single door in your building was the same plain white with no decoration, no plants, no quirky doormat to offer a clue. just a long, boring hallway of identical doors, and somewhere behind one of them was your package. 

"great," you muttered, already feeling the creeping frustration in your chest. 

your phone buzzed in your hand, and you barely had time to glance at the screen before answering. 

"sooo," came minnie's voice, far too chipper for this disaster, "did you like my gift?” 

“i’m gonna strangle you,” you hissed, rubbing your temples. 

“woah, you know i’m not into that freaky shit.” 

“i’m serious, minnie,” you groaned, dragging a hand through your hair. “the package got delivered to a different apartment. you must’ve put the wrong number on it.” 

“no way,” she gasped, already on the defensive. “i literally double-checked. triple-checked, even. it’s apartment 235.” 

"what?” you yelled, nearly dropping your phone.

this can’t be happening. out of all the apartments in your building… it had to be that one?

“minnie…” you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm, "it’s 236. apartment 236.” 

she paused. “oh.” 

you heard her laugh nervously, and it took everything in you not to throw your phone across the room. 

“minnie…” you groaned, pressing your forehead against the wall. “i swear, if it’s what i think it is based on our last conversation…” your voice trailed off as a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. “my next-door neighbor, minnie. MINNIE. jaemin…oh my god.” 

“wait,” she said, voice sharp with interest. “is that the doctor you said is too hot for his own good?” 

“i did not say that.” 

“you did.” 

“no, i said he’s just… a nice sight for my eyes, okay? in a building full of old people, sue me for appreciating the view.” you rubbed at your face. “but i can’t face him if he saw what’s in that package. i just can’t.” 

“listen…” minnie drawled. “what if he’s into it, though? think about it.” 

“i’m hanging up.” 

“no, wait—” but you pressed the red button before she could finish.  

the most mortifying experience of your 24 years on this planet, and it hadn’t even fully happened yet. but you could see it clear as day: the box, him opening it innocently, and its contents—oh, god, the contents.  

the thing is, you and minnie had a dumb tradition. whenever life got a little too miserable or stressful, you’d send each other gifts. random, stupid stuff. a manga you’d been talking about, or a plushie of your favorite sanrio character. the catch was you could never reveal what it was until it was opened. it was supposed to be a surprise.  

except this time, you were sure minnie’s idea of a "surprise" was directly inspired by your recent rants about being, well… frustrated. as in, the sexual kind of frustration. you had a strong hunch about what she’d sent. 

you sank into the couch, letting out a long sigh. you had two choices: go over there and pray he hadn’t opened it, or stay here and hope the ground swallowed you whole. both seemed equally unlikely.  

as you stared at the ceiling, someone knocked on the door.  

three soft knocks. 

your heart stopped, your body jolting so hard you nearly rolled off the couch. no. no, no, no. not him. please not him. 

you tiptoed to the door like a cartoon burglar, eyes wide with panic. don’t answer. if you don’t answer, he’ll just leave it. you could grab it later. it’s fine. everything’s fine. 

but as you got closer, you heard the softest shuffle from the other side. he was still there. you peeked through the peephole and there he was indeed… jaemin. your very handsome, very distinguished doctor neighbor. standing there, holding your box.  

you backed away from the door like it was about to explode. no, nope, you’d just wait until he— 

you bumped into the side table. hard. and in a moment of unfiltered pain, you yelled, “FUCK!” loud enough to echo down the hall. 

a long pause. 

“hello?” his voice was clear through the door. smooth, polite. 

you shut your eyes so tight you saw stars. letting him think you weren’t home was six feet under now. 

"just get it over with," you muttered to yourself, quickly checking your appearance in the mirror to make sure you didn’t look at destroyed as you felt.

you opened the door with the kind of smile you'd give a police officer who just pulled you over. "oh! good morning, neighbor!" you practically chirped, voice too high, too fake. 

he smiled, sleepy but devastatingly handsome. his scrubs hung perfectly off his frame, and his hair was tousled like he'd just came from a long night shift…which he probably did. he had the kind of face that made you think life has favorites.

“morning,” he said, nodding his head. “sorry to bother you so early, but this…” he held up the box, fingers tapping the side of it. tap tap tap your eye twitched. “this got delivered to my place by mistake.” 

he was so calm. too calm. 

“oh,” you squeaked, your voice barely functional. “uh, yeah! no worries at all! my friend sent it, haha, she’s… forgetful like that. really bad with numbers. haha…” you trailed off. kill me now.

“right,” he said, eyes flicking to the box. “well, here you go.” he held it out to you. 

you reached for it but your hands, slick with nervous sweat, betrayed you. the box slipped.  

“oh no-”  

thud.

everything.  

everything spilled out.  

time slowed. your heart dropped straight into hell. 

boxes. bottles. wrappers.  

and then the pièce de résistance.  

a sex doll. 

a life-size, anatomically correct, male sex doll.

you didn’t know what kind of sound you made, but it was something between a gasp and a whimper. your knees hit the floor as you scrambled to grab everything wishing you could somehow erase the last five seconds of reality.  

“oh my god,” you whispered, cramming the boxes into your arms. “oh my god. oh my god.”  

“uhm,” he cleared his throat and you didn’t even have to look up to know what kind of face he was making. there were no words for this. none. zero.  

“thank you for bringing it to me! bye!” you choked out, voice cracking on the last syllable as you grabbed what you could and slammed the door shut with the force of a hurricane. 

you pressed your back to the door, sinking to the floor, arms full of colorful boxes of shame. you stared at them.  

a vibrator. a bottle of lube. a very, very anatomically correct doll still half in its box.  

"minnie." you said her name like a curse.  

your phone buzzed. it was a text from her. 

minnie (6:18am): how’d it go?  

“hell,” you muttered, tossing your phone across the room. 

you sat there for what felt like hours, the weight of embarrassment crushing down on you. moving out suddenly seemed like the only reasonable option. scratch that, you were moving countries. or planets. was mars habitable yet?

♡ ♡ ♡

for the next few days, life was nothing short of miserable. you called in sick to work because there was no way you could leave your apartment and risk running into jaemin. the idea of seeing him again made your stomach twist into knots. to anyone else, it might seem dramatic—after all, owning sex toys wasn’t some scandalous crime—but the sheer context of it all was unbearable. 

the cherry on top was that the box had clearly already been opened. jaemin had definitely seen what was inside before you’d even dropped it. and the fact that he just pretended everything was normal while standing there with a straight face? it was almost worse. no, it was worse. because now he probably pitied you for dropping it in front of him even after he tried to save you from the embarrassment. 

you groaned, burying your face into the couch cushions. where was the armageddon when you needed it?

you hadn’t left your spot in the couch days, and your body was starting to hate you for it. your back ached from the awkward angle you were lying in, and your stomach growled because you’d panic-eaten the last of your food last night. 

“this is pathetic,” you muttered, grabbing your phone. 

after scrolling aimlessly for a few minutes, you reluctantly opened your food delivery app. you ordered enough food for at least two days and prayed the delivery guy would bring it to your door. but of course, life hated you, so when you got the “can’t find parking” text, you sighed loudly. 

“naturally,” you mumbled, dragging yourself off the couch. 

you threw on the most disguising outfit you could find: a black beanie, your puffy winter coat, and oversized sunglasses. did you look like a wannabe celebrity trying to dodge the paparazzi? sure. but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

you texted the driver a quick be right down and bolted to the elevator, keeping your head low. 

when you reached the parking lot, you practically snatched the bag out of the driver’s hands and mumbled a quick thank you before rushing back inside. you were so close to safety now. 

you stepped into the elevator and leaned against the wall, finally letting out a sigh of relief. but, as fate would have it, you celebrated just a tad too soon. 

just before the doors closed, a hand shot through the gap. you froze. 

you smelled him first.

that cologne. you’d know it anywhere. 

your heart sank as jaemin stepped into the elevator, looking unfairly handsome as usual. you, on the other hand, looked like a fugitive. 

“good afternoon,” he said politely, his voice calm and smooth. 

“hi, uh…afternoon,” you mumbled, holding the bag of food up to your face like a shield. maybe if you hid behind it long enough, he wouldn’t notice it was you. 

“y/n?” 

shit. 

you glanced at him reluctantly, offering an awkward laugh. “oh, hey, jaemin… didn’t realize it was you.” you pushed your sunglasses up onto your head. “these things are so dark.” 

he chuckled, tilting his head slightly. “didn’t recognize you either. are you coming from an event or something?” 

you blinked at him, realizing how ridiculous your outfit must look. “oh, no, i—uh… i have a cold,” you stammered. “just trying to stay warm, you know?” 

“ah,” he nodded, his expression softening. “well, you should rest up. drink plenty of water and maybe some tea with honey, it helps soothe your throat. oh, and—” 

he started rattling off doctorly advice and you could only stare at him, dumbfounded. because, of course, not only was he handsome, but he was kind, too. unfair. completely unfair. 

“thanks,” you said, cutting him off before he could get too deep into his list of remedies. 

he smiled at you again, and for a moment, you swore your heart skipped a beat. “i was actually a little worried,” he admitted, leaning against the elevator wall casually. “i haven’t seen you around the past few days.” 

“oh. uh… yeah,” you said weakly, shifting the food bag in your hands. “just been laying low, don’t wanna get anyone sick.” 

“i see,” he said, his tone light but teasing. “you’re not hiding from me, are you?” 

your eyes widened, and your breath caught in your throat. was it that obvious?

“what? no! why would i be hiding from you?” you forced out a laugh, but it sounded fake even to your ears. 

he raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was fighting a grin. “hmm. just checking.” 

“yeah, it’s because of the cold” you muttered, fidgeting with the handle of the food bag. “it’s nothing serious, though. i appreciate the concern.” you tried to sound nonchalant, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you. 

“good to hear,” he said, his eyes still on you. “but still, if it doesn’t get better in a few days, you should probably see a doctor.” 

“right. definitely,” you nodded quickly, eyes glued to the little numbers above the elevator door, silently willing them to move faster. 

but of course, the universe hated you lately. the elevator suddenly jerked to a stop, too soon for your floor. you flinched, and before you could even begin to hope it was just a regular stop, the overhead lights flickered once, then twice, and then… nothing. 

darkness. 

“oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you groaned, tilting your head back against the cold elevator wall. 

“well,” jaemin’s voice came through the darkness, and you could hear the grin in it, “this is bad timing, huh?” 

“this is my villain origin story,” you muttered, crossing your arms as you slid down to sit on the floor. “this is how i finally snap and become one of those people who yell at customer service workers.” 

he laughed, and you hated how nice it sounded. like melted chocolate. warm, smooth, and way too easy to get addicted to. 

“guess we’re stuck for a bit,” he said, sitting across from you. you could only make out the faintest outline of him in the dim emergency lighting. “not a bad person to be stuck with, though.” 

“yeah, lucky you,” you deadpanned, cradling your bag of food. 

there was a pause. not an awkward one but it felt somewhat intimate and you didn’t like it. not because you felt uncomfortable but because you were scared of embarrassing yourself further.

“hey,” he spoke up again, softer this time. “about the other day…” 

no. absolutely not. this was not happening. 

“nope,” you cut him off, waving a hand like you could physically swat the topic away. “we don’t talk about that. ever.” 

“but i think we should—” 

“we don’t, jaemin,” you said firmly, pointing at him like a scolding parent. “it never happened. you never saw it. i never dropped it. in fact, none of it exists. it was a shared hallucination caused by gas leaks in the building. that’s my story, and i’m sticking to it.” 

he snorted, hiding a laugh behind his hand. “gas leaks?” 

“yep. toxic fumes. real health hazard,” you nodded, doubling down. “you should probably get management to check that out, doctor.” 

“i’m a neurosurgeon, not an HVAC technician,” he shot back, amused. 

“same difference,” you muttered. 

another pause. you could feel him looking at you, even in the dimness. 

“for what it’s worth,” he started slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully, “i wasn’t judging you.” 

“good,” you mumbled, picking at a loose thread on your coat. “because i’m not like ashamed of it, just… mortified, you know?” you finally glanced up at him, feeling a little braver in the low light. “there’s a difference.” 

he nodded, eyes warm and understanding in a way that made your chest ache. “there is.” 

you sighed, letting your head fall back against the wall. “i’m moving. i’ve decided.” 

he laughed, full and bright. “you’re not moving.” 

“i am, actually,” you insisted. “gonna change my name, get a new identity. maybe move to the mountains. live off the grid. it’s the only way.” 

“you’re ridiculous,” he said, still grinning. 

“you say that like it’s news.” 

silence settled over you both again, but this time it was lighter. less suffocating. you could hear him shift, stretching his legs out in front of him. he tapped his fingers against his knees like he was keeping time to a song only he could hear. 

“so,” he said after a beat, voice low and casual. “was that, uh… the first time you ordered something like that?” 

your whole face went hot.

“jaemin,” you warned. 

“what?” he asked, the picture of innocence. “just curious.” 

“don’t make me call those toxic fumes back in here,” you threatened, pointing a stern finger at him. 

he threw his head back laughing, and despite yourself, you smiled too.

"fine, i won’t bring it up anymore,” he said with a tired smile, rubbing the back of his neck. his fingers pressed into the muscle there, and he winced slightly. 

“you okay?” you asked, glancing at him with concern. 

“yeah, just a long day at work,” he replied, rolling his shoulder like it’d been bothering him for hours. 

“yeah, i can imagine. the life of a doctor must be pretty hectic,” you said, eyes flicking to his hands as they worked over the tense muscle. “but you gotta know your limits too… you’re not made of steel, you know.” there was a hint of worry in your voice, and you tried not to let it show too much, but judging by the way he glanced at you, he caught it. 

he looked at you for a moment, longer than usual, before nodding. “you’re right,” he let out a short breath. “i guess i’ve been burying myself in work lately. but it’s hard not to when it’s this time of the year… i’m a pediatric neurosurgeon and too many kids get sick and hurt during the summer.” 

“oh, definitely. i’m not even a kid and i always get sick in the summer,” you joked, hoping to lighten the mood. 

he laughed at that, his grin easy and genuine. “never too late to have fun during the summer,” he said, leaning back against the elevator wall. “just not too much fun. can’t party too hard with a cold.” 

“do i look like the kind of person who parties too hard?” you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“hmm,” he tilted his head with a slight (cute) pout. “i wouldn’t know. we don’t know each other that well.” he glanced at you, eyes flicking over you just once before smirking. “but you’re young and pretty, so why not?” 

your heart stumbled in your chest, and you fought to keep your face neutral. did he seriously just call you pretty so casually like it was a fact of life?  the dim lighting of the elevator became your saving grace, hiding the warmth that crept up your neck. 

"want a piece?" you asked, anxiously trying to change the subject, raising the bag of fried chicken in your hands. you shook it lightly to emphasize. "i have a feeling we're gonna be stuck here for a while, and it's still warm."

he raised an eyebrow, his grin widening into something a little playful. “don’t mind if i do.” 

he moved closer, close enough that your shoulders almost brushed, and you set the bag down in front of you both. “dig in,” you said gesturing with your hands toward the chicken.

“so… you’re a doctor…” you said after a couple minutes of eating in silence. 

“last time i checked, yeah,” he replied, glancing over at you with a faint smile. 

“so why’d you move into this shabby building with elevators that haven’t been serviced since the stone age?” you asked, pausing to tear into a chicken wing with zero grace or subtlety.

he stared at you, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of your question or the feral way in which you were eating. 

“i’m a resident, so i don’t make nearly as much as people think. plus, med school debt is no joke. this place fit the budget.” 

“oh,” you muttered, suddenly feeling a little awkward. “sorry if that sounded kinda judgy. people tell me i’ve got a chronic case of big mouth syndrome.” 

“it’s fine,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “at least you’re honest.” 

“what about you?” he asked, tilting his head toward you. 

“me? oh same story, different font. drowning in student debt, and this place was… available,” you said, popping another wing into your mouth. 

he nodded, and after that, the conversation picked up, flowing so naturally you forgot you’d technically only been speaking to him for a week. before that you had only shared neighborly greetings in the hallway.

you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until the elevator jolted suddenly, the lights flickering back on with a low, mechanical hum. 

by then, the bag of chicken was empty, and you knew more about jaemin than you ever expected to learn in one night.

♡ ♡ ♡

“i thought elevators had some kind of emergency backup power for blackouts,” minnie said, her face pixelated on your phone screen. 

“yeah but this building’s like 60 years old,” you muttered, adjusting the camera so she could see you better. you were sitting on the floor, painting your toenails a fresh shade of lavender. “the fact that it even has an elevator is a miracle.” 

“true, true,” minnie nodded, chewing on a piece of candy. her eyes lit up suddenly. “by the way, why does your sexy doctor live there? i thought doctors were supposed to be loaded.” she propped her chin on her hand. 

“he told me he just started his residency,” you explained, blowing gently on your freshly painted nails. “and he just started a new job at the hospital. they don’t get paid that well when they’re starting out.” 

“hmm,” she hummed knowingly. “so you spend a few hours stuck in an elevator with him, and suddenly you’re an expert on the medical field, huh?” 

you rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “it’s called having a normal conversation, you should try it”  

“i’m just saying,” minnie teased, tossing a gummy bear into her mouth. “you went in there hiding from him, and you ended up sharing chicken and life stories. i see you.”  

“there is nothing to see,” you shot back, tossing a pillow at your phone screen like she could actually feel it.  

“mm-hmm,” she hummed, leaning forward “so, did he mention it?”  

“mention what?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.  

“the box,” she said ominously, dragging out the word like it belonged in a horror movie trailer.  

you froze. “he tried to,” you admitted, tapping your fingers on the pillow in your lap. “but i shut him down real quick.”  

“oho, look at you,” she said, leaning back impressed. “miss assertive, didn’t think you had it in you.”  

“i have more pillows to throw, minnie. don’t test me.”  

“yeah, yeah, violent tendencies aside,” she waved you off, completely immune to your threats. “i hope this new confidence means you’re finally putting my gifts to use.” she tilted her head with the most innocent smile, which made it all the more sinister.  

your face went hot. so, so hot.

“i haven’t,” you lied, voice a little too high.  

“liar,” she sang, leaning closer to the camera. “i can see your shifty eyes. you definitely tried it.”  

“okay, fine, i did!” you snapped, throwing your hands up. “but it was a disaster.”  

minnie perked up with curiosity. “oh?”  

“yeah, oh,” you repeated, scratching your head. “it just… didn’t hit. it felt weird and i got frustrated, so i just gave up. plus i don’t know where you got that vibrator from but it almost burned my girlypop”  

“rookie mistake,” she sighed shaking her head dramatically. “that’s why you need someone with experience to help you out.”  

your brows furrowed. “what are you even saying right now?”  

“i’m saying,” she grinned like the devil himself, “that you have a perfectly qualified medical professional living right next door. i’m sure dr. mcdreamy wouldn’t mind giving you a consultation.”  

you blinked once. “minnie, you’re actually sick in the head.”  

“oh, please.” she tossed her hair over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. “he’s hot, he’s single, and you’ve already done half the work. you were sitting there eating fried chicken, and you’re telling me he kept throwing compliments at you? we all know you eat chicken like a truck driver, and he still thought you were pretty. use your resources, babe.”  

“he was hungry and stuck. he was probably grateful i offered him food. what else was he supposed to do?”  

“it’s so much more than that,” she said, holding up a hand, a clear signal for you to shut up and pay attention.  “i know when a man is laying the foundation and trust me, he’s building a whole mansion with your name on it.”

“you’re fully overreacting right now.”

one of minnie's strengths was that she wasn’t one to give up easily. but that also ended up being one of her flaws. you knew for a fact she wouldn’t drop this jaemin thing until she proved he had a thing for you.

“seriously, though,” she continued, leaning in so close her face was the whole screen. “he’s a doctor which means he’s like literally obligated to help people. it’s in the oath or something.”

“your point is..?”

“you know” she raised her brows suggestively “experienced hands, medical precision, and he owes you one for that chicken dinner. it’s the perfect setup.”

“you’re insane… like actually seek help.” you shook your head, trying to sound firm, but you were laughing too much to sell it.

“i’m serious,” she laughed along, “you literally blush whenever you talk about him. oh and you can’t even say his name without smiling.”

“that’s not true,” you said, shifting your position on the couch like that would somehow make your denial more convincing.

“mmhm,” she squinted her eyes, clearly not believing you.

“and for the record,” you added, jabbing your finger at the screen, “not every attractive man i meet is getting sexualized in my head. i’m not a beast.”

“no, you’re just a liar,” she shot back with a wide grin. “be real for like two seconds. i can see you smiling so hard right now.”  

“you can’t see anything,” you said, voice sharper now. “it’s the pixelation. your wifi is ass.”

“nice try,” she said, drawing out the words. “i know a bashful grin when i see one.”

“you stress me out,” you muttered, twisting the cap back on your nail polish with a little too much force.

“and yet, you call me every day.” she propped her chin on her palm, smile pure menace.

“i guess i’m a masochist,” you sighed, leaning back on the couch. “tragic, really.”

“mmhm, tragic is right,” she said, eyes narrowing into little crescents. “because now i’m gonna be your maid of honor at this wedding i didn’t even prepare for.”

“goodbye, minnie,” you deadpanned, reaching for the end call button.

“goodbye, future mrs. mcdreamy.” she winked at the camera, and before you could curse her out, she hung up.  

you sat there for a second, staring at your phone’s home screen, lips pressed tight.  

delusional.

she was delusional.

but that didn’t stop you from thinking about jaemin’s stupid grin. the way he’d looked at you while eating fried chicken, casual but present, like he was really there in the moment with you. the way his eyes lingered, just for a second too long.  

you shook your head, shoving the thought away like minnie’s words had wormed their way into your subconscious.  

nope.

you capped the nail polish, shoved your phone aside, and focused on literally anything else.  

♡ ♡ ♡

over the next few days, something shifted. not in a big, dramatic way but in a way you could feel.  

jaemin wasn’t just the polite neighbor you exchanged pleasantries with in the hall anymore. now, every time you saw him, there was this unspoken acknowledgment hanging in the air like: we shared fried chicken in a broken elevator for three hours.

 this new attitude towards you was giving you whiplash. he was… extra friendly now. he smiled more, spoke to you first, acted like you were both in on some kind of inside joke. it wasn’t bad… but it wasn’t normal either.  

“morning, y/n,” he’d say as you both waited for the elevator, eyes crinkling like he’d already thought of something funny.   

“morning,” you’d reply, your gaze locked firmly on the floor. the tiles were suddenly fascinating. 

but then you’d catch the faintest trace of his cologne—the same one you’d inhaled way too much of in the elevator—and suddenly, the tiles weren’t so interesting anymore. so you’d try to sneak a glance or two, and when he wore his doctor’s coat and glasses, you couldn’t help but ogle. he was so ridiculously handsome. everything about him practically begged for you to admire. his sharp jawline, his dark eyes framed by impossibly long lashes, his lips always pink and effortlessly moisturized, his hair neatly trimmed in the back but just a bit longer in the front, falling perfectly right above his thick brows.

and he had the most captivating smile, so white it almost blinded you, and despite thinking he was the serious type at first, you quickly realized he was incredibly expressive. he communicated so much with just his brows, and it seemed impossible for him to speak without a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. like what was so funny? that you were crushing hard on him and it was kind of disrupting your life?

he was also too relaxed around you. way too relaxed. how was he so calm when he’d seen you in your most unhinged states? meanwhile, you could still feel the ghost of that moment hovering over you like a neon sign flashing "dildo girl spotted."

the third time you ran into him that week, you almost turned around to take the stairs, but you weren’t fast enough.  

“caught you,” jaemin said as soon as he spotted you, his grin sharp but not unkind. “thinking of bailing on me?”  

you paused like you were actually considering it. “don’t flatter yourself,” you said, walking forward like you’d planned to all along. “the stairs are just bad for my knees.”  

“oh, is that right?” he asked, stepping aside with a sweep of his hand. "good thing elevators exist, huh?”  

“lucky me,” you muttered, slipping inside. he followed right after, too close for comfort but not close enough to call him out on it.  

“lucky me,” he added, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, head tilted just so. "would’ve missed you otherwise."  

you had to bite back the cough that almost escaped when he said that, his lazy smile firmly in place like always.

you glanced at him, squinting. "what's with you lately?"  

“what do you mean?”  

“this,” you gestured at him vaguely. “all this… talking. you weren’t like this before.”  

“maybe i just needed an excuse,” he said with a nonchalant shrug “and three hours in an elevator with you was a pretty good one.”  

you blinked, momentarily at a loss. what were you even supposed to say to that?  

“did you rehearse that?,” you muttered, turning away before he could see the corner of your mouth twitch.  

“why, is it too corny? but you’re smiling,” he pointed out, you could hear his smile.

“no, i’m not.”  

“you are,” he said confidently, leaning in just a little like he was trying to see it up close. “it’s cute.”  

you flinched back, eyes wide. “don’t say that.”  

“why not?” he grinned wider, clearly pleased with himself. “it’s true.”  

“oh my god.” you turned so far away from him it was a miracle you didn’t phase through the wall. “stop talking.”  

“can’t,” he said, all too happy to keep going. “we’re closer now. shared chicken trauma and all that.”  

“that is not a thing.”  

“it is,” he nodded confidently. “you can’t just sit in a powerless elevator with someone for hours and pretend you’re strangers afterward. that’s, like, scientifically impossible.”  

“scientifically impossible?” you repeated, eyebrows raised. “you’re making things up.”  

“and here you are listening to all of it,” he shot back, tilting his head toward you, his gaze a little too sharp. 

checkmate.

you opened your mouth, ready to respond, but your brain was buffering.. 

"that’s what i thought," he said, his voice low and too satisfied, just as the elevator dinged.  

the doors opened. he didn’t move right away, gaze lingering on you as if he was waiting for something…or maybe just seeing how long you’d hold it.  

“you talk too much,” you muttered, stepping out with your head high like you had the upper hand.  

“I think you like it,” he called after you, the amusement in his voice so obvious you could practically hear the grin on his face.  

your heart did that annoying skip thing, and this time, you didn’t have an excuse for it.  

♡ ♡ ♡

things only got worse after that.  

jaemin, apparently, had decided that you were fun to mess with now.

he wasn’t over-the-top about it, though. no, he was too smooth for that. he played it cool, weaving little comments and actions into your interactions. a smile that lingered too long, leaning in just a little too close when he asked a question, throwing casual compliments like they didn’t mean anything.  

it was unfair, really. he’d gone from the quiet, polite neighbor, the one who worked long shifts at the hospital and mostly kept to himself,  to an actual menace in the span of three days. and somehow, you were the target of all of it.

the first time it happened, you brushed it off as coincidence. the second time, you thought maybe he was just being nice because you shared food with him so perhaps he thought that he owed you. by the third time, you realized: this man was having fun at your expense.

“new hair?” he asked casually one evening as you struggled with your keys outside your door.  

you froze, glancing up at him in confusion. “what?”  

“your hair,” he repeated, nodding toward you. “looks good.”  

your brows furrowed. “it’s the same as always,” you muttered, turning back to the lock that was absolutely refusing to cooperate.  

“huh.” he tilted his head, as if he were genuinely surprised. “then i guess it’s just you.”  

what does that even mean?!

your hands fumbled, and the key slipped from your fingers, clattering to the floor.  

jaemin’s laugh was soft but unmistakably amused. “you okay there?”  

“don’t you have patients to save or something?” you snapped, crouching down to snatch the key off the ground before he even had the chance to get it for you.

“off duty,” he shrugged, leaning against the wall next to you. his smile had that easy confidence you were beginning to associate with him now. “but i’ll step in if you need medical attention. emotional support counts too.”  

you groaned so loud it echoed in the hallway. “i swear, i liked you better when you were quiet.”  

“oh, you like me?” he asked, his grin widening just enough to make your stomach flip in protest.  

“past tense,” you shot back, finally shoving the key into the lock and turning it with more force than necessary.  

“if you say so,” he replied, drawing out the word like he didn’t believe you for a second.  

“you’re insufferable,” you muttered, turning around with your key in hand, gripping it like a weapon. “how do you live with yourself?”  

“one day at a time,” he replied, dead serious.

you shot him a glare as you finally shoved the key into the lock. it turned smoothly this time.  

“maybe you should try it,” he added, just as you opened the door.  

“try what?” you asked, already regretting engaging.  

“living with me,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. he even had the audacity to wink.  

you nearly slammed the door in his face.  

“goodnight, jaemin,” you snapped, stepping inside.  

“sweet dreams, love,” he called after you, his voice warm and smug in a way that lingered.  

you closed the door, locked it, and leaned your head against it with a groan that could only be described as deep emotional fatigue.

“then i guess it’s just you.”

you stayed pressed against the door for a little too long, thinking about it.  

he’s the worst.

the absolute worst.

♡ ♡ ♡

then came the visiting.  

you heard a quiet, rhythmic knock knock knock on your door one night. not frantic, not loud just steady enough to make you pause in the middle of scrolling through your phone.  

you frowned. minnie wasn’t the “surprise visit” type, and you definitely hadn’t ordered food. so who…  

when you opened the door, he was right there. 

jaemin.

he leaned against the doorframe, one arm propped against it, the other tucked into his pocket. his posture was relaxed, but his eyes sparkled with that familiar glint of mischief.

“what do you want?” you asked, gripping the door like it was a shield between you and whatever ridiculousness he was about to say.  

“so rude,” he said, mock-offended, though the lazy grin on his face betrayed him. “you invite a guy to share fried chicken once, and suddenly you’re heartless?”  

“oh, please.” you stepped back slightly, but you didn’t close the door. “i offered it. don’t act like i saved you from a tragic famine.”  

“true,” he agreed, his gaze dropping for a split second, flickering over you like he was trying to catch you off guard. “but since you brought it up, i was thinking about how we never got dessert.”  

you blinked, thrown off by the randomness. “what?”  

“dessert,” he repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “fried chicken’s great and all, but it’s not a complete meal. we missed out.”  

“and what, you came to my door at 9 pm to tell me that?”  

“yep.” he rocked back on his heels, completely unbothered. “i figured you owed me by now.”  

“owed you?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “for what, exactly?”  

“emotional support,” he said, grinning like he’d been waiting for you to ask. “that elevator ride? life-changing experience. bonded for life. it’s only fair you buy me dessert.”  

you tried to fight it. you really did. but the laugh slipped out anyway, betraying you.  

his grin widened, the kind that wasn’t just smug… it was triumphant.  

“fine,” you sighed, grabbing your phone off the counter. “but you’re paying next time.”  

“next time?” he echoed, his voice tilting upward just slightly. he leaned forward, close enough that the space between you suddenly felt smaller. “so you’re already planning our next elevator date?”  

oh, this man.

“don’t push your luck,” you muttered, pointing a finger at him while you tapped through your food delivery app. “i might close the door on your face next time.”  

“you like me too much to do that,” he said softly, and this time his tone wasn’t teasing.  

it was smooth, confident, and just low enough to make you glance up without thinking.  

your thumb hovered over your screen for a second too long before you forced yourself to break eye contact. you picked the first dessert you saw just to escape the moment and right before you got to pay he snatched the phone from you and put in his card details.

“so annoying,” you muttered.  

“gentlemanly,” he replied easily.

“you’re lucky i’m too tired to throw you out,” you shot back, already regretting how much you were letting him get away with.  

“lucky?” he asked, smirking. “i’d say you’re the lucky one. who else brings dessert and great company?”  

you groaned, loudly, just to drown him out.  

♡ ♡ ♡

thirty minutes later, you were sitting side by side on your couch, barely an inch between you, sharing a container of chocolate lava cake like it was the most natural thing in the world.  

“don’t hog it,” you grumbled, jabbing at his hand with your spoon when he took an extra-large bite.  

“it’s called portion control,” he argued, entirely unapologetic as he went for another.  

“it’s called stealing,” you shot back, scooping up a bigger piece just to even the playing field.  

“maybe,” he said, glancing at you with that maddening grin. “but you’re letting me get away with it.”  

“only because i don’t want to waste food,” you countered, though your voice lacked the conviction you wanted it to have.  

he leaned back slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours in a way that felt too casual to be an accident.  

“you’re really bad at lying, you know that?” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make you pause.  

you turned to glare at him, spoon still in hand, but the words caught in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you.  

he wasn’t grinning anymore. not exactly.  

it wasn’t a smirk or a joke or one of those teasing little quips he always threw your way. it was… softer. almost curious.  

your heart stuttered before you could stop it.  

“and you’re annoying,” you said again, but this time it came out quieter.  

his lips twitched, like he was holding back a laugh.  

“you already said that but i think it loses meaning when you let me hang out with you for this long,”  he murmured.  

you didn’t reply. you couldn’t. not when the air felt so… different.  

so instead, you turned back to the TV, grabbed another spoonful of lava cake, and shoved it into your mouth as an excuse to not say anything.  

he chuckled softly, the sound barely audible over the hum of the TV.  

♡ ♡ ♡

the next few days went by pretty much the same. whenever you bumped into jaemin in the hallway, the parking lot, or even at the local cafe, his eyes would lock on you like a heat-seeking missile, ready to tease you in a way that you hated to admit was starting to feel oddly enjoyable.

but everything escalated the day minnie came to visit you.

it had been a while since you two last saw each other, given that she lived in a different city. as soon as she arrived, you were buzzing with excitement. but you’d forgotten one crucial thing… minnie had a rare, borderline supernatural ability to drive you absolutely insane.

“i can't believe you had a second chicken date with him and still didn’t jump his bones… have i taught you nothing?” she said, exasperated as she popped a handful of popcorn into her mouth. dawson’s creek reruns were playing in the background, and as if that show didn’t depress you enough, minnie’s relentless criticism of your non-existent love life was making it worse.

“it wasn’t a chicken date,” you groaned. “we had cake. and why would i jump his bones when we’ve only just started speaking more than two words to each other like, last week?”

“you don’t get it,” minnie said, turning to face you with the gravity of someone about to lecture you. “a man doesn’t just knock on your door asking you to have dessert with him unless he has a different idea of what 'dessert' is.” she raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“ew, don’t make that face,” you winced. 

“i’m serious, y/n. if you keep shutting down every man that’s interested in you, the only dick you’ll get is that inflatable one i got you.”

“not even,” you sighed, slumping against the couch. “i haven’t taken it out of the box yet. and i won’t. that thing already embarrassed me enough for the next two lifetimes.”

“but if you think about it, if it weren’t for tom, you’d still be secretly crushing on dr. mcdreamy.”

“you did not just name the sex doll tom,” you said, eyes narrowing.

“i think we should at least go out tonight since you’re clearly not gonna put the moves on your sexy neighbor.”

“absolutely not,” you shook your head, pulling the blanket tighter around you. “ i’m not about to waste my night talking to any guy who thinks 'intellectual debate' means arguing about protein powder.”

“okay, harsh… no wonder you’re single,” she muttered as she got up and started tapping away on her phone.

“who’re you calling?” you asked, squinting at her suspiciously.

“there’s only one person who can drag you out of this apartment,” she muttered with a sly grin. "hold on—hello? jake? yeah, guess who i’m with right now?" she paused dramatically, glancing at you with a wicked smile. "your favorite girl, obviously!" she snickered, tilting her phone just enough to snap a photo of you mid-protest. 

“dude, c’mon, i’m in my grandma pjs right now,” you said, pointing at the flowery pajama top you were wearing.

“how about we meet up at the neo club? yeah? awesome, and bring one of your hot friends,” she added, grinning like a cat that just cornered a bird.

she hung up, looking triumphant, but you folded your arms with a scowl.

“there’s no way i’m going out,” you said flatly.

♡ ♡ ♡

you still ended up going out.

but only because they offered to pay for all your drinks, and who were you to refuse such a generous offer?

it didn’t take long to spot jake. he was already stirring up trouble at the bar, his charm dialed up to 100 as he leaned in close, tossing out some line that had the bartender blushing so hard she had to look away just to keep it together.

“ugh, casanovas make me sick,” you grumbled, scrunching your nose as you watched him.

“stop harassing the lady, jake,” minnie said, grabbing him by the collar and tugging him away from the bar. he turned around with a mock-offended gasp.

“excuse you, she was absolutely enjoying that,” he said with an infuriating level of confidence. he wasn’t even wrong—the bartender was still grinning.

“whatever, tiger. look who’s out of her cave!” minnie announced, shoving you forward slightly.

jake’s eyes lit up the second he saw you. he practically lunged forward, wrapping you in a bear hug and lifting you off the ground.

“no way! my y/n! it’s been, what, four years since i last saw you?” he spun you in a small circle before finally setting you down.

“please don’t be so dramatic. we saw each other last year on your birthday,” you laughed, shoving his chest.

“too long for me, babe. you know seeing you is always a treat,” he said, giving you one of those overly saccharine smiles he knew would make you roll your eyes.

“when are you ever not flirting? is that your default mode? is there any way to reset you?” you said, tapping his forehead like you were trying to reboot a broken phone.

“you know you love it,” he winked, and somehow it was both annoying and charming at the same time.

“anyways, where are the drinks i was promised?” you extended a hand expectantly.

“here you go, princess,” he said, handing you a tequila sunrise with a flourish. “and here you go, troll,” he added, handing minnie a margarita.

“i’ll kill you,” minnie slapped his arm hard enough to make him flinch.

“ow, abuse! abuse!” he cried dramatically, clutching his arm as if he’d been mortally wounded.

“you’ll live,” minnie muttered, taking a sip from her glass.

the night was already off to a wild start, and you had a sinking feeling it was only going to get worse.

♡ ♡ ♡

“so you’re telling me the box with all the freaky shit minnie sent ended up being delivered to your neighbor?” jake was practically doubled over, clutching his stomach from laughing so hard. “and he opened it?”

“yeah, laugh it up,” you said, unamused as you swirled the straw in your drink before taking a long sip. you’d lost count of how many drinks you’d had, but the warmth in your chest and the slight buzz in your head told you it was definitely more than a couple.

“if i were you, i would’ve moved,” he said, wiping at the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “i’m trying to think of a time i’ve been that embarrassed and not even my drunkest moments come close.” he shook his head like he genuinely felt bad for you, though the grin on his face said otherwise.

“believe me, i tried to avoid him,” you said, gesturing with your drink in hand. “but somehow, after that, he started sticking to me like gum on a shoe.”

“i’m telling you, he wants you!” minnie slurred, her eyes barely staying focused as she swayed slightly in her seat. clearly, she was the drunkest one at the table, her words carrying that telltale wobble of too many cocktails.

“don’t start with that again,” you shot back, tossing a napkin in her direction. “he doesn’t want me. he just likes messing with me because he figured out i’m an easy target.”

“oh, really?” she said, eyes narrowing like she’d just come up with the most brilliant plan. “then call him right now. and if he answers, put him on speaker.”

“like hell i will,” you snorted, glancing at your phone. “it’s-” you checked the time “…literally 3am. why would i disturb him just to prove your silly little theories?”

“coward! coward!” minnie started chanting, slapping the table. jake immediately caught on and joined her, their voices syncing up in a way that only drunk friends could manage. “coward! y/n is a chicken!” they sang in unison, making sure to drag out the last word obnoxiously.

“ugh, why do i have friends like you two…” you muttered, covering your ears as their chanting grew louder. “okay! fine! stop that right now, i’ll text him. once.” you jabbed a finger in the air for emphasis, giving them both a stern glare that did absolutely nothing to dim their excitement.

“what do i even say…” you groaned, staring at your empty chat with jaemin.

“send him a picture,” jake suggested.

you thought about it for a second, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “fine,” you muttered, lifting your phone. fueled by alcohol and peer pressure, you decided on the classic "oops, wrong person" strategy. you snapped a quick selfie, pursing your lips into a kissy face for maximum effect. you didn’t even care that it was blurry or that you looked very obviously drunk. in fact, that made it funnier. you snickered to yourself as you hit send.

“he won’t reply, guys,” you said confidently, tossing your phone onto the table face-down. but barely ten seconds passed before you heard the unmistakable ping of a new message.

“you were saying?” minnie arched a brow, crossing her arms in mock satisfaction.

“it’s probably just some random notification,” you said with a shrug, but your voice wavered as you picked up your phone. you tapped the screen, eyes widening slightly at the name that appeared.

jaemin neighbor (3:02am): ‘thought you weren’t one to party hard?’ 

the message was punctuated with a little smirk emoji that somehow made it worse.

“what’d he say?” minnie asked, leaning in so far you thought she might topple over.

you barely had time to answer before another message popped up.

jaemin neighbor (3:03am): ‘don’t drink too much though, you’re still recovering from that cold. and don’t let strangers hold your drink.’

your eyes stayed glued to the screen, heart doing an odd little flip that you refused to acknowledge. 

“oh my god, he’s worried,” minnie gasped, hands flying to her face. “he’s literally whipped!” she squealed, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you back and forth with unhinged glee.

♡ ♡ ♡

after seeing jaemin's message, you decided you needed to get drunker to drown out the thoughts swirling in your head. by the time you got back to the apartment, your uber driver had to practically haul you out of the car. you were a complete mess, your feet barely cooperating with the ground beneath you. minnie ended up hitting it off with jake’s friend so she decided to leave with him to do god knows what dirty things.

“woah there!” you yelped as you stumbled, nearly falling backward.

“ma’am, what’s your apartment number?” the driver asked. all you could do was laugh and mumble some random string of numbers that didn’t come close to making sense.

“y/n?” a familiar voice cut through the fog in your mind, sharp and clear like a bell. it almost sobered you up on the spot. he was wearing his scrubs and his tired appearance told you that he was coming back from a long shift.

“mr. doctor is here!” you announced with unrestrained glee, throwing your arms up. the sudden movement made you lose balance, and you tilted sideways bumping into the driver.

“you know her, sir?” he asked, his forehead shiny with sweat, clearly desperate for an exit out of this.

“uhm, yeah, she’s my next-door neighbor. i’ll take it from here, thanks,” jaemin said, stepping in with the calm authority of someone who’s seen this exact scenario a dozen times before. with zero effort, he crouched down and hoisted you onto his back, his hands steady under your thighs to keep you secure.

“wheee!” you squealed, your cheek smushed against the back of his head.

“hold on tight, yeah?” he muttered, his tone dry but fond as he adjusted his grip on your legs.

inside the elevator, you got bold. maybe it was the tequila, maybe it was just you accepting your undeniable attraction to jaemin, but your hands found their way to his arms. you gave his biceps an experimental squeeze and then hummed, thoroughly impressed. “do all doctors got big, muscular arms or just you?” you asked, squeezing again as if conducting a very important scientific investigation.

jaemin’s lips twitched, like he was fighting back a smile. “do you always get this touchy when you’re drunk?” he replied, shifting you slightly higher on his back.

“oh wow, you smell so good,” you said, burying your nose in his hair. “like… like one of those fancy candles you’re not supposed to light cause they’re too expensive.” you giggled against his head, completely oblivious to the way his ears flushed pink at the compliment.

“i told you not to drink too much,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “this is dangerous, you know.”

“sorryyyyyy,” you whined, dragging out the word. “but you know what they say about alcohol… uh, ‘wine before whiskey, you’re feelin’ frisky’?” you squinted, clearly thinking very hard.

jaemin tilted his head, giving you a side-eye full of disbelief and amusement. “that’s absolutely not the saying,” he said, his voice low and warm with a hint of laughter.

“no?” you pouted. “then it’s… ‘drinks before thoughts, memories get lost!’” you declared with absolute confidence.

he let out a full, genuine laugh, his shoulders shaking under you as he carried you down the hallway. “close enough,” he muttered.

♡ ♡ ♡

in front of your door, you squinted at the digital lock like it had personally wronged you. you pressed one button, then another, and frowned when the screen blinked angrily. your brain felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and trying to remember your code right was harder than trying to solve a riddle while underwater. 

“ugh, whatever,” you groaned, letting out an exaggerated sigh before plopping down on the floor, legs sprawled out.

“what are you doing?” jaemin's voice came from above, and when you tilted your head back, you saw him crouched in front of you, eyebrows raised.

“can’t remember the code, so m’ sleeping here. duh,” you replied with the kind of lazy confidence and lack of urgency only drunk people have. you reached out and booped him on the nose simply because he looked cute like a bunny in your inebriated mind.

he blinked, clearly thrown, before a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “no, you’re not,” he said, shaking his head. he stood up, offering his hand. “come on.”

“ugh, fiiine,” you groaned, letting him pull you up, though you were basically dead weight. he slipped an arm around your waist to steady you, and the warmth of his hand pressed against the bare skin where your shirt had ridden up. the touch was casual but it sent a sharp jolt of awareness through you. 

you bit your lip to distract yourself from the sudden rush of heat. blame it on the alcohol. definitely the alcohol. 

“i never sleep in a guy’s apartment ‘til…” you held up your hand and started counting on your fingers, lips moving as you mumbled to yourself. “like the 6th date.” 

“that so?” jaemin glanced at you, his voice raspy in a way that made something flip in your stomach. 

“mmhm,” you hummed, leaning your weight against him. “gotta have rules, y’know? safety first.” 

“you’re not wrong,” he replied, guiding you toward his door with slow, careful steps. “but that logic’s got a flaw, don’t you think?” 

you squinted up at him, skeptical. “what flaw?” 

“you’re here with me, and we’re not even on date three,” he said simply, giving you a pointed look. 

you tried to ignore the fact that he considered the elevator and that night at your apartment as dates.

“that’s different,” you countered, waving a hand like that somehow made you right. 

he glanced down at you, eyes sharp but soft in the way they flickered across your face. “how?” 

you blinked, suddenly too aware of the space between you two — or the lack of it. his arm was firm around your waist, and you could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. 

“you tell me, doc,” you muttered, avoiding his eyes. 

there was a brief silence, just the quiet hum of the hallway lights and the soft shuffle of your feet. his fingers curled slightly against your hip, the pressure grounding but gentle. when he spoke again, his tone had shifted — quieter, steadier. 

“i’d never do anything to hurt you,” he said, voice sure like a promise. his eyes met yours, serious in a way that knocked the air right out of your lungs. 

you didn’t have a quick comeback for that one. 

he held your gaze for a moment longer before clearing his throat, eyes flicking away. “anyway,” he said, his voice back to its usual steady calm, “you can sit for a bit. i’ll get you some tea and food, sober you up.” 

“huh?” you blinked, your tipsy mind still trying to catch up after that intense moment you just shared. 

“sit,” he repeated, guiding you toward the couch like you were a stubborn cat. “tea. food. you’ll thank me later.” 

you flopped onto the couch with zero grace, still buzzing from everything.

your head was throbbing, but that wasn’t half as uncomfortable as the rapid thumping of your heart against your chest. it wasn’t normal. it couldn’t be normal. you pressed a hand to your chest like that might somehow slow it down.  

“what is this…” you muttered under your breath, tilting your head back against the couch. 

you were spiraling, no doubt about it. overthinking everything. it’s just jaemin, you reminded yourself. your neighbor. your kind neighbor. of course he’d say stuff like that. he’s a good person, and good people say things like "i’d never hurt you" all the time, right? it didn’t mean anything. didn’t mean a single thing. 

calm down, y/n.

you blew out a slow breath, trying to trick your heart into believing you were unbothered. 

jaemin came back moments later, a cup of tea in one hand and a small plate of buttered toast in the other. he’d ditched his jacket, now in just a fitted black t-shirt and scrub pants. you weren’t sure what was more distracting… the way the fabric clung to his chest and arms, or the way the veins in his forearms stood out as he set the plate down. you stared a little too long, gaze following the flex of his muscles.  

he’s just a guy, you thought, just a guy with arms that look like they were carved out of marble. 

“okay, drink this,” he said, nudging the tea toward you. his voice had slipped into his "doctor tone", soft but firm, like he fully expected to be obeyed. “you’ll feel better. if you feel dizzy or like you’re gonna throw up, let me know. i’ll go shower real quick, and you can shower after.”  

he disappeared into his room before you could respond

you sat there for a second, letting the silence settle around you. without him there, you finally took a proper look at his place. it was weirdly nice for a building as old and shabby as this one. sleek, modern furniture, spotless floors, a faint scent of something woodsy and clean. candles lined the windowsill, and he had an at-home gym tucked neatly in one corner. 

of course he does, you thought, he’s probably too busy saving lives to hit a real gym. 

you bit your lip, remembering the way his arms had felt around your waist. the heat of his skin seeping through the fabric of your shirt. and now, after seeing how built he actually was, it was starting to make a lot more sense. 

“ugh, stop it,” you muttered, shaking your head. it was just the alcohol messing with you. that, and the fact that you were definitely ovulating because there was no way you’d be acting like this otherwise. the combination was lethal. 

you reached for the tea, eager for something to snap you out of your head, but the second you took a sip— 

“ah—!” you yelped, dropping the cup. hot liquid splashed onto the floor, the mug clattering after it. thankfully, it missed your legs but your tongue throbbed like you’d just bitten into molten lava. 

“shit,” you hissed, sticking your tongue out like that might cool it down. 

“what happened?” jaemin’s voice came from the bathroom, sharp with concern.  

“‘s fine!” you tried to call back, but with your tongue still stinging, it came out garbled. “ihz ohkaay!” 

the sound of the shower stopped. you barely had a second to panic before jaemin burst into the living room, dripping wet, a loose towel slung dangerously low on his hips.  

you froze. 

oh.

oh my god.

if this were an anime, you’d have shot out a nosebleed so powerful it’d blast you into another dimension.  

“what happened?” he asked, eyes darting to the mess on the floor, then back to you. he crouched beside you, eyes scanning you likely looking for injuries. water dripped from his hair, trailing down the sharp planes of his face, his chest, his abs… 

his abs.

your gaze locked on the V-line that dipped beneath the edge of his towel, and your brain short-circuited. every coherent thought you’d ever had dissolved on the spot. you didn’t even realize you’d spoken aloud until you heard your own voice. 

“oh my god.”  

jaemin blinked, eyebrows drawing together in worry. “what?” 

“n-nothing!” you stammered, face heating faster than the tea had. you slapped a hand over your eyes like that might erase the image from your mind. it did not. it was burned in.

he frowned, his puppy-dog concern on full display. “i’m sorry, i should’ve warned you the tea was hot.” his gaze shifted to your tongue, still sticking out as you tried to cool it with air. his frown deepened. 

“izzokay,” you said, or at least tried to. with your tongue swollen and numb, it sounded more like “iz okeh, iz my fauwt.”  

“hold on,” he said, his tone dropping into doctor mode. “stay put. you might cut yourself on the glass.”  

he moved with quick precision, ducking into the kitchen and coming back with a towel and some paper towels to clean up. you, unfortunately, had nothing to do but sit there and watch him. and watch him you did.  

the way his muscles shifted under his skin with every movement. the flex of his back, the dip of his hips, the subtle pull of his abs as he crouched to pick up shards of glass. you sat there like a fool, cheeks blazing, unable to look away.  

he could model for anatomy textbooks, you thought, completely mesmerized. like, imagine turning to page 47 and seeing this man labeled as "muscular system: front view."

every part of him moved with that annoying grace certain people just had. the kind of grace that was only possible when you were stupidly, unfairly attractive.  

he wiped the floor clean and tossed the paper towels aside, giving one final glance at the spot to make sure there wasn’t a single shard left behind. then he turned to you.  

“all clear,” he said, standing to his full height. the towel on his hips slipped slightly lower, and your gaze shot to the ceiling so fast you almost got whiplash.  

“thanks,” you muttered, trying to keep your eyes anywhere but there. you still saw it in your peripheral vision. 

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “you sure you’re okay?” 

am i okay? absolutely not. your tongue was burnt, your pride was in pieces, and your brain was playing a slow-motion highlight reel of his abs. you were the furthest thing from okay.  

“yep,” you croaked, voice cracking at the end. 

“here you go,” he said, handing you a glass of cold water. “it should help your tongue.”

“thanks,” you mumbled, cradling the glass with both hands. you refused to look directly at him, eyes darting everywhere in the room. the slow drip of condensation on the glass suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the world.

“are you hot? you’re sweating,” he asked, leaning forward, his gaze landing on you with that soft concern he wore too easily.

you nearly spat the water back out. of course you were hot. this whole situation was hot. the room was hot. he was hot.

“it’s fine,” you blurted, shaking your head a little too quickly. “i’ll just shower.”

“yeah, sure. go ahead,” he said, nodding toward the hallway. “bathroom’s the door on the left.”

he glanced down at you, eyes flickering over your dress just briefly. instinctively, you tugged at the hem like that would magically make it longer. you should’ve known minnie was setting you up when she called this look “casually dangerous.”

“your clothes…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “they don’t look super comfortable to sleep in, so if you want, i can lend you something.”

there was no reason for your heart to leap into your throat the way it did. it was a normal offer. a completely normal, helpful offer. but your brain decided to be weird about it. suddenly, you were picturing yourself in one of his shirts, fabric hanging loose on you, the scent of detergent and him faintly clinging to it. god, you needed help.

“okay,” you said, trying to sound normal, but it came out too fast.

“i’ll grab them for you,” he said, already heading toward his room.

as soon as he disappeared, you collapsed against the couch, exhaling hard like you’d just survived a boss fight. you dragged your hands down your face, letting out a muffled groan.

“pull it together,” you hissed at yourself.

walking into the bathroom didn’t help. the warmth hit you instantly, soft steam curling in the air. it smelled like aftershave and clean skin, and if there was a single coherent thought left in your brain, it got drowned out by the sensory overload.

“seriously?” you muttered under your breath, tilting your head back with a groan. “what am i, thirteen?”

the mirror was fogged up, so you wiped at it with your sleeve, only to be faced with your own reflection staring back at you like girl, really? you pressed your hands to your cheeks, feeling the warmth that had nothing to do with the steam.

“i’m normal,” you announced firmly to no one but yourself.

except you weren’t, and you knew it. it wasn’t just the alcohol making your brain short-circuit anymore. you were sober now, and this was just you being ridiculous. the neatly folded clothes on the counter didn’t help. a plain white shirt and a pair of sweatpants sat there, fresh and clean.

you eyed the sweatpants, then glanced down at your legs, already knowing how this was gonna play out. still, you gave it a shot, pulling them up your legs after taking a (very) long shower. unsurprisingly, they swallowed you whole, the cuffs dragging behind you. yeah, no. you’d trip over yourself in less than a minute. sighing, you snatched up the shirt instead and pulled it over your head. it slipped down past your hips, the sleeves flopping well past your hands, turning them into little paw-like stubs.

“this will have to do,” you decided with a sharp nod to yourself.

when you finally stepped out of the bathroom, jaemin was lounging on the couch, scrolling on his phone. his gaze flickered up at you, and for a split second, he just blinked, eyes tracking down your frame before quickly darting back to his phone.

“where are the pants?” he asked, lips quirking up just slightly at the corner.

“too big,” you said. 

“hmm” he hummed, looking up and letting his gaze drag just a little slower this time, eyes sharp with mischief. his tongue pressed against his cheek, a lopsided grin threatening to break free. “i see”

if your heart was pounding before, it was in full percussion solo mode now. but you just flopped down beside him, acting like everything was cool, like you weren’t hyperaware of every inch of bare skin peeking out from under the too-big shirt.

you glanced at the clock on the wall — 4:30 a.m. blinked back at you in dim red light. too late to be awake but too early to call it morning. your eyes shifted to jaemin, and you could see the weight of exhaustion hanging on him. his blinks were slower, his body slouched deeper into the couch cushions.  

“jaem…” the nickname slipped out without warning, soft but certain. his eyes lifted to you immediately.

“you can go to sleep. i’m fine,” you said with a small smile, hoping it was convincing. “and… thank you. for everything. you’re too nice to me.”

his gaze lingered on you, steady and unguarded, like he was committing you to memory. then, his lips curved slowly into a smile. not his usual teasing grin but something gentler, sweeter. it hit you square in the chest, and you had to physically fight the urge to lean forward and kiss him.  

you did not win that fight.

instead, you moved on instinct… leaning in and wrapping your arms around him. the moment you did, you panicked. it felt stiff, clumsy, like you’d misread the whole situation. you were just about to pull away when his arms slid around your waist, slow but sure.  

he pulled you in, pulled you all the way in, until you were practically draped over him. your breath caught in your throat, heart thudding so hard you swore he could feel it.  

his head dipped down, face tucked into the curve of your neck. the warmth of his breath hit your skin in soft bursts, and his hold on you tightened just a little more.  

“it’s my pleasure,” he murmured, voice low and raspier than it had been all night. his lips brushed against your collarbone as he spoke, “always.”

good god, you nearly let out a sound you’d never be able to live down. every nerve in your body was on high alert. it had been so long since you’d been held like this.

his nose nudged against your neck lazily. you felt the butterflies in your stomach riot, wings frantic against your ribs.  

“jaem…” you said, but it came out too soft, too breathless to sound like an actual warning.  

“you smell good,” he muttered, voice all sleep and satisfaction. “you always smell good.” he breathed you in.

lord, have mercy.

“i think we should both sleep,” you murmured, but neither of you moved. neither of you even thought about moving.  

“yeah,” he said, voice low and uneven.  

“yeah,” you echoed, but it sounded less like agreement and more like an excuse for staying right where you were.  

he pulled back just enough to look at you, but his arms stayed firmly around your waist. his eyes flickered down to your lips. on reflex, you wet them with a quick swipe of your tongue, suddenly self-conscious. his gaze darkened and you swore you felt the shift in the air.  

“stop me,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

but stopping him didn’t even cross your mind. not when he was looking at you like that. not when his face inched closer, closer…

his lips met yours softly at first, hesitant, like he was waiting for you to decide. you decided quickly. your hands slipped into his hair, pulling him in as you kissed him back with everything you’d been holding in all night.  

he responded instantly. his hand cupped the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair to hold you in place, deepening the kiss until it wasn’t soft anymore.

his other hand found your hip, gripping you firmly as he shifted you on top of him, his touch guiding you like he knew exactly where he wanted you to be. dangerous. this was so, so dangerous. 

because you were only wearing that stupidly oversized shirt and the flimsy scrap of underwear underneath it. and when you settled fully onto his lap, you felt everything.

he must’ve felt it too, because his breath stuttered, and a needy groan escaped him, muffled against your lips. you felt it vibrate through your whole body, made you shiver as if he’d pressed his mouth to your spine instead.  

his hand on your hip squeezed, fingers digging in just a little harder. 

the kiss grew messier, wetter, breaths and tongues tangled together in a way that felt far past the point of no return. it didn’t help that his other hand left your neck, sliding down, fingertips trailing along your side before slipping under the hem of the shirt.  

his hand slid up and up until…

he froze the second he realized. his palm pressed against bare skin, no bra, no barrier. you felt his breath hitch at the same moment you heard it.  

“fuck,” he groaned into your mouth, his voice rougher now, heavier. his fingers spread wide, covering as much skin as he could reach, his palm warm and steady against your ribs.  

and when his thumb brushed up, grazing just barely under the curve of your breast, the sound you made was far too needy. his gaze flicked back up to yours. like he was asking. like he was giving you one last out.  

you didn’t take it.  

his hand moved again, bolder this time. his palm slid over the curve of your breast, warm and firm, fingers curling around it as if it belonged to him. you sighed at the contact, eyes fluttering closed as your head tipped forward. it wasn’t enough. you didn’t know what “enough” would be, but it wasn’t this.  

he must’ve felt it too, because his other hand rose to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin in slow, soothing circles. he tilted your face up, and for a moment, you thought he’d kiss you again. you tilted toward him, lips parting, but he had other plans.  

instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips just beneath your ear. the warmth of his mouth sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could even process that, he was moving lower. he kissed his way along your neck, slow and steady, with the kind of patience that made your heart feel like it was on a countdown. 

and then the kisses changed. his teeth grazed your skin, his lips sealed over the spot, and he sucked hard enough to make you gasp. your hands flew up, gripping at his shoulders as he trailed love bites down to your collarbones, marking you in a way that felt possessive, the kind you’d see after he was gone.  

“jaemin,” you whispered, your fingers digging into his shirt. his name barely sounded like a name anymore.  

his only answer was a low hum against your collarbone, his hand still working under your shirt. his fingers traced lazy lines along the sensitive skin beneath your breast, and just when you thought he was going to stay gentle, he pinched your nipple between his fingers.  

you gasped sharply, hips jolting forward on reflex. “oh—”

he didn’t stop. he rolled it slowly between his fingers, feeling out every little reaction you gave him, every twitch and shiver. your body betrayed you, arching into his touch, and the way he smiled against your neck told you he knew exactly what he was doing to you.  

instinct took over before you could think it through. your hips rocked forward against his lap — once, twice — chasing relief from the ache that had been building low in your stomach for too long. you felt the slickness between your thighs, hot and damp, soaking through the thin fabric of your underwear and seeping onto his sweatpants.  

he felt it too. you knew he did from the sharp intake of breath he took, from the way his hands squeezed tighter his fingers digging into your hip, his other hand cupping your breast with just a little more pressure.  

“fuck,” he groaned, head falling forward, his forehead pressing against your shoulder. his hips shifted beneath you, his arousal impossible to miss now. he was hard, and every roll of your hips dragged against him perfectly, making him curse under his breath.  

the heat of it all was unbearable, and you had no one to blame but yourself. but at this point, did it even matter?  

he lifted his head, jaw tight, eyes half-lidded. his gaze flickered from your face to where your hips met his lap, his tongue darting out to wet his lips 

“i don't know how much longer i can hold back…” his voice was strained.  

you blinked down at him, heart thudding hard against your ribs. every nerve in your body felt like it had been lit on fire, but somehow, you still managed to smile.  

“who told you to hold back?”you said, voice soft but sure.  

“shit…” he muttered, his voice low and wrecked. his fingers dug into your hips, guiding them down against him with a deliberate pressure that had your breath hitching in your throat.  

it wasn’t just you moving anymore. he was moving you, rocking you back and forth against him faster, tired of pretending you weren’t both desperate for it.  

your head tipped back as a broken moan spilled from your lips. the friction was too good, just the right amount of pressure to have your thighs trembling. the heat between you had gone from warm to blistering, every grind making you more sensitive, more aware of the damp mess you were both making between his sweatpants and your underwear.  

his eyes locked on you, not wanting to miss a single second of it… the arch of your back, the part of your lips, the way your breath caught every time you sank down a little harder. 

“look at you,”  he breathed, voice rough and half-laughing. “getting this worked up over a little humping”

you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. “i’m clearly not the only one,” you shot back breathlessly..  

his lips were back on you in an instant,  rougher than before, all teeth and tongue. his hands slid up your back, under his shirt you were wearing, fingers dragging against bare skin. his nails scratched lightly at your spine, sending chills down your whole body, and you gasped into his mouth.  

he didn’t let you pull away. his lips chased yours, like he’d been starving for this, like now that he’d had a taste, there was no way he was stopping. he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and your body moved on instinct, hips rolling harder against him.  

“fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, head falling back against the couch as he sucked in a breath through his teeth. his hands slid down to your thighs, gripping them tight as if to ground himself, but all it did was spur you on.  

you leaned forward, trailing kisses down his jaw, his neck, biting just enough to feel him shudder beneath you. his pulse was wild under your lips, and when you grazed your teeth against it, his hips bucked up so hard it knocked the air out of your lungs.  

“you’re making it so hard to be soft right now,” he said through gritted teeth, head tipped back, neck bared for you like an invitation. his eyes flicked down to where you sat on him, where the line between you two had blurred so badly it didn’t seem to exist anymore.  

“then don’t be,” you whispered against his ear, biting down on the lobe just to hear him curse again. “nobody asked you to be soft.”

that was all it took. his grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin with purpose. his next move was fast—you were on your back before you could register it, his body hovering over you, his weight pressing you down in a way that made your heart race in your chest.  

his eyes met yours, pupils blown wide, hair falling into his face. he looked like a mess and it was perfect.

“say that again,” he said, voice nothing but gravel and breath. his hands slid up your thighs, pushing them apart, the slow drag of his touch enough to make you squirm. “say it again so i know you mean it.”

your chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, and you reached up, fingers threading through his hair.  

“nobody,” you whispered, tugging his head down just enough to make sure he heard you, “asked you to be soft.”

for a second, he didn’t move. just stared down at you like he’d never wanted anything more in his life than to eat you up.

then he leaned in, and when he kissed you this time, it wasn’t soft or tentative or testing the waters. it was raw, hungry, and so deep it knocked the air out of you. his hands moved with purpose, sliding up your thighs, pushing his shirt higher and higher until the air hit bare skin.  

everything was heat and pressure and need. he was all you could feel, all you could hear — his breath heavy and uneven, his name falling from your lips like it was the only word you knew.  

and when he finally pressed his forehead to yours, eyes squeezed shut like he was fighting to hold himself together, you knew you’d both already lost.

the next thing you know, his hands are tugging your shirt up and over your head, the fabric barely brushing past your arms before it’s gone. the cold air hits your skin for half a second before jaemin’s mouth replaces it, hot and relentless as he traces the curve of your collarbone, his lips dragging lower, slower.

when his mouth finally closes around your right breast, it’s warm and wet and just enough to have you mewling. his tongue flicks over your nipple before sucking it into his mouth, his teeth grazing it just lightly, sending a sharp jolt of heat straight down to your core.  

his free hand slides lower, fingers trailing down your stomach, over your hip, and slipping beneath the waistband of your lace underwear like it’s the most natural thing in the world. he moves without hesitation, fingers seeking out the slick mess waiting for him, and the second he finds it, he lets out a low, rough groan against your skin.  

“god, you’re so fucking wet,” he mutters, pulling off your breast with a slick pop, his breath fanning across your skin. he glances down between your legs, his gaze so heavy you feel it like a touch. his eyes darken, his tongue darting out to wet his lips like he’s hungry just looking at you.  

he hooks his fingers into the sides of your underwear, dragging them down in one slow pull, eyes locked on you like he’s scared to blink and miss it. the fabric barely makes it past your knee before he’s already looking back up at you, his pupils blown wide, lips parted with the kind of need that makes your chest feel too tight.  

“let me eat you out,” he says, and his voice is rough and desperate.

you bite your lip like you’re thinking it over, but you know you’re going to say yes. you just like seeing him like this — all unsteady and breathless, too far gone to hide it.  

“please,” he says again, this time more ragged, his voice cracking at the end like he might actually lose it if you make him wait any longer.  

“okay,” you say, and it’s all he needs.  

he’s on you in a heartbeat, sliding down your body so fast it’s dizzying. his hands are firm on your thighs, pulling them apart, spreading you wide until there’s nowhere left to hide. his gaze flicks up one last time, meeting yours like he’s checking, like he’s giving you one last chance to stop him.  

but you don’t. you won’t.

he presses his fingers to your folds, parting you slowly, exposing everything to him, and the breath he takes is deep, like he’s savoring the moment before the fall.  

then he leans in.  

his nose brushes against you first, just a soft nudge that has your hips twitching on instinct. then his tongue follows in one long, slow drag from bottom to top that has your breath stuttering in your chest. his grip on your thighs tightens, fingers digging into your skin like he’s steadying himself as much as you.  

he moans against you, a deep, satisfied sound that you feel as much as hear, and his tongue dives back in, licking at you like you’re his favorite thing to taste. the movements are slow at first, deliberate, his tongue exploring every part of you like he’s trying to figure out exactly what makes you fall apart.  

and you are falling apart.  

your head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting as you let out a shaky, breathless moan. your hips twitch up, and his hands are right there to hold you down, keeping you still as his tongue moves with more certainty, more purpose, licking you with long, messy strokes that make you gasp.  

his mouth doesn’t slow, if anything, it grows more determined. his tongue moves with precision now, circling that sensitive spot before flicking against it in quick, teasing bursts that have your hips jumping despite his firm grip.  

“fuck, jaem—” your voice breaks on his name, your hands gripping the sides of the couch, searching for something, anything to ground yourself. but there’s nothing. nothing but him, his mouth, the obscene, wet sounds filling the air, and the heat building low in your stomach.

he groans again, the vibration shooting through you, his tongue flattening against you before he drags it up,

“taste so sweet,” he murmurs into you, his voice muffled, every word spoken straight into your skin. 

“could stay here all night.”

the heat in your belly twists tighter at that, something about the way he says it, like he means it, like he’d ruin himself for this… for you. you’re already too close, and he knows it. he can feel it in the way your thighs tense, in the way your breath catches and your hips press up into him like you’re chasing something you can’t quite reach.  

he hums in satisfaction, his lips wrapping around that sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking just once, just enough to make your whole body jolt.

“god, jaem, i’m—” you don’t even finish the sentence before it hits you, crashing over you in waves so intense you forget how to breathe. you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth falling open on a silent cry as the pleasure hits you all at once, white-hot and overwhelming. he doesn’t let up, his tongue flicking against you through it, coaxing every last tremor from your body.  

your fingers find his hair, tugging hard, half to ground yourself and half to make him stop because it’s all too much. he groans at the pull, but it only seems to spur him on, his hands tightening on your hips, keeping you pressed against his mouth.

“jaemin,” you say it firmer this time, tugging again, and finally, finally he pulls back, his lips and chin shiny with evidence of what he’s done.

“couldn’t help myself,” he says, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth like he’s savoring every last bit of you. his eyes are wild, pupils blown wide, his hair a mess from where you tugged at it.  

“you look so pretty when you cum,” he says, voice low and husky, and you hate the way your heart lurches in your chest as if he’s just said something sweet.  

“you’re crazy,” you mutter, still catching your breath, wiping the sweat from your forehead.  

“crazy for you,” he fires back, grin widening like he knows how corny it is and says it anyway.  

and for some reason, it makes you laugh. a soft, breathy thing you can’t hold back. 

in one smooth motion, he’s crawling back up your body, his hands framing your face as he settles his weight over you. his lips press to yours, soft at first, then deeper, hungrier. reminding you exactly where that mouth has just been. you taste yourself on him, and it sends a fresh wave of heat through you.  

“not done with you yet,”  he says against your lips, his hips pressing down against yours, and fuck, you feel how hard he is, the thick, solid pressure pressing right where you need it.  

“then don’t stop,” your fingers slide down his back, nails scraping lightly.

he flashed a wicked grin, and before you could process it, you let out a startled squeal as he hoisted you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. his arms were firm around your legs, his shoulder pressing into your stomach, and you could feel the strength in every stride as he carried you from the living room to his bedroom. 

"jaemin!" you protested, your fists lightly tapping his back, but it only made him chuckle.

"keep squirming, baby. see where that gets you," he teased.  

he laid you down on the bed with surprising gentleness. the cool, fresh scent of his sheets surrounded you, soft fabric meeting warm skin. it was a fleeting comfort, though. you both knew they wouldn’t stay this neat for long. 

jaemin peeled off his shirt with one smooth motion, revealing the sharp lines of his chest and the taut muscles of his stomach. you bit your lip as he kicked off his sweatpants, leaving him in just his boxers. his gaze was locked on you, dark eyes brimming with heat and amusement, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.  

you watched mesmerized as he pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, fingers searching until they found a small foil packet. he ripped it open with practiced ease, and when the condom rolled out into his palm, your eyes widened. 

"that’s not the right size," you blurted out, half-laughing. "no way."  

his eyebrows lifted, a challenge sparking in his eyes. "oh? wanna bet?" 

then his boxers hit the floor.  

oh.  

your breath caught in your throat as your eyes dropped, taking in the sight of his dick. heat flooded your face. what the hell.

“close your mouth, baby,” he said, smirking. “unless you’re planning to put it to use.”  

"shut up," you muttered, glancing away, cheeks blazing. "are you gonna do it or not?"  

“do what?” he asked innocently, even as he climbed onto the bed, caging you in with his body. he hovered just above you, his grin infuriatingly smug.  

“you know what.”  

“hmm. don’t think i do,” he murmured, eyes dropping to your lips. “wanna say it for me, pretty girl?”  

you pressed your lips together, heart thudding in your chest harder every second. you could feel the weight of him, his warmth, the tension that hung in the air like a live wire.  

“fuck… me, jaem,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.  

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “louder, baby. i know you can be louder.”  

he wasn’t wrong. flashes of earlier moments filled your mind, the way you were moaning and whimpering definitely wasn’t quiet. you swallowed the last bit of your hesitation.  

“fuck me. please.”  

he hummed, satisfied, his grin softening as he hooked his hands behind your knees and tugged you down toward him. you let out a quiet gasp, suddenly flat on your back, with him positioned directly above you. his body hovered just close enough that every shift of movement made you feel him.  

your eyes flickered up to his face, and for a second, he wasn’t teasing anymore. his gaze was steady, searching, his eyes dark but kind. he reached out, fingertips tracing your jawline with such tenderness it made you ache in a different way.  

“you okay, baby?” he asked softly, letting you know he’d stop everything if you said no.  

your heart swelled at the care in his voice.  

you nodded, fingers curling around his shoulders.  

he leaned in, close enough for his breath to fan across your face. “need words, love.”  

“i’m okay, jaem,” you said more firmly, gazing up at him. 

his eyes lingered on yours a moment longer before he nodded. he took a pillow and carefully placed it behind your lower back 

"good girl," he murmured.  

he shifted, his hands steady on your hips, grounding you as he lined himself up. the anticipation coiled tightly in your stomach, a nervous, thrilling buzz. you felt him prodding at your entrance, he swiped his tip up and down, the action made you clench in anticipation. he eased in, inch by inch, the stretch stealing every ounce of air from your lungs.  

his head dropped, forehead pressed against yours, jaw tense as his eyes squeezed shut. a soft curse left his lips. “fuck, so… so tight,” he groaned, his voice wrecked. his fingers dug into your hips, holding you still.

the moans spilling from your lips mixed with his name, coming out soft and unrestrained. every inch of him felt like too much, the kind of stretch that made your breath catch and your nails press into his shoulders. it had been so long since you'd had sex that you'd almost forgotten what it felt like, and even back then, no one had ever filled you like this. jaemin was thicker, longer, and the difference was impossible to ignore. 

"baby, if you keep squeezing me like that…" he laughed breathlessly, his fingers drawing slow, steady circles on your hip like he was trying to soothe you. “i might not make it all the way in.” 

“s’rry, you’re… just too big,” you muttered, voice coming out more wrecked than you intended. 

he bit down on his lip, eyes flicking down to where you were connected. the sight alone was about to undo him. "yeah?" he breathed, a little too satisfied with himself. his hand slid up, fingers pressing into your waist just a bit harder, grounding you in place as he pushed in deeper. 

the pressure was overwhelming, every slow inch making you feel like you might fall apart right there beneath him. and the deeper he went, the more you swore you wouldn’t last long. the tight, aching pull in your stomach was already coiling up, twisting tighter with every second.  

“you okay?” his voice was softer this time, the restraint obvious in how still he stayed once he’d finally bottomed out. his forehead pressed lightly to yours, lips hovering just close enough to brush your skin.  

“mhm,” you nodded quickly, legs shaking around him. 

“words, baby,” he said, and his fingers tilted your chin so you’d look at him. 

“i’m okay, jaem. just…just move, please,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.  

"since you asked so nicely," he said with a grin that was all teeth and trouble. his hands gripped your thighs, pulling them higher against his sides. his hips pulled back, just enough for you to feel every inch of him drag out slowly, before he pushed back in.

the breath punched out of you. you didn’t even have time to recover before he was doing it again, sharper, testing just how much you could handle. 

"god, you’re taking me so well, princess," he groaned, eyes flicking down to where your bodies connected. his hands slid up your sides, the warmth of his touch a sharp contrast to the way he was slamming into you. "like you were made for me." 

“jaem-” his name was the only thing you could manage, high-pitched and broken. your head tipped back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut, but that only made everything feel sharper. 

“what's that?” he asked, voice rough as he leaned in closer, his lips ghosting over the corner of your mouth. "love it this much, huh?" 

you didn’t answer, didn’t need to. he could hear it in every shaky breath, feel it in the way your body reacted to him. 

his mouth was on yours a second later, messy and hot, his teeth dragging over your bottom lip before his tongue slid past it. he didn’t kiss you so much as claim you, taking everything you gave and then some. your fingers knotted in his hair, desperate for something to hold on to. the sounds between you were wet, frantic, each one making the coil in your stomach twist tighter. 

you were close… so, so close.

 but then he pulled away again, leaving you gasping at the sudden loss. before you could even think to complain, he grabbed your hips, flipping you over like it was nothing. your cheek pressed into the pillow, hips lifted, and you barely had a second to brace yourself before he was back inside you.

the first thrust knocked the air out of your lungs. it was deeper now, sharper, because he’d found a whole new spot to ruin you from. your fingers dug into the pillow, muffling the sounds spilling from your mouth, but even that wasn’t enough. the angle had you seeing stars, the kind of pressure that made your legs shake with every thrust. 

“feel that?” his voice was right at your ear, low and rough. “feels different, doesn’t it?” 

you nodded frantically, too gone to answer, but that wasn’t good enough for him. his hand slipped up, tangling in your hair, gently tugging you up just enough so he could hear you.  

“talk to me, baby.” his voice was a rasp now, barely hanging on. "tell me how it feels." 

“s’good…so good, jaem,” you gasped, words rushed and jumbled but still clear enough. "i’m- i’m gonna…”  

“go ahead, baby," he said, lips brushing against your ear before he bit down softly on your earlobe, making you jolt. "want you to cum for me." 

your whole body shuddered as the release crashed into you, slow and unrelenting, like a wave that just wouldn’t let up. it didn’t hit and fade away like usual — it lingered, making your muscles seize and tremble with every pulse. you felt boneless, your limbs heavy as you sagged against the bed, head turned to the side, cheek pressed into the pillow. jaemin stayed inside you, his grip on your hips loosening just slightly but his eyes stayed locked on you, dark and intent. you could feel him watching every little twitch of your body. 

“look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “so pretty like this.” 

he eased out of you slowly, and the emptiness that followed had you sucking in a sharp breath. your thighs shook as you tried to press them together, but his were still on you, thumb brushing softly along your inner thighs admiring how your cum slid down your dripping core. 

you glanced down, lips parting at the sight. his cock was flushed, standing firm against his stomach, the condom showing nothing but a hint of precum mixed with the mess you’d left behind. a slow heat pooled in your belly again, your body already responding before your mind could catch up.  

“you didn’t—” you started, but the words dissolved in your throat, eyes flickering back up to meet his.  

you didn’t wait for him to say anything. your hand shot out, fingers curling around his wrist, and you tugged him forward. he followed easily, letting you pull him in close, his lips already parting like he was expecting a kiss. but just as he leaned in, you braced a hand on his chest and shoved him down flat on his back. 

“oh?” he breathed out a soft, surprised laugh, his eyes widening as his head hit the pillow. “what’s this, huh?”  

“shh,” you muttered, climbing over him, one leg swinging over his hips until you were straddling him. your palms flattened on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your hands. 

“bossy now, are we?” his grin stretched wider, his hands sliding up your thighs with a slow, deliberate touch. he squeezed just above your knees, fingertips pressing into your skin.  

“quiet,” you said leaning forward, your breath warm against his ear. “thought you’d like a girl who takes charge.” 

his head tipped back with a breathy laugh. “oh, i do,” he said, voice trailing off into a low hum as his eyes dipped to where your hips hovered just above him. “but i like it even more when she can keep up.” 

the corner of your mouth tugged up into a grin. “we’ll see,” you muttered, reaching between your bodies to wrap your hand around him. he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, his whole body going rigid beneath you. even with just the faintest pressure of your hand, you could feel him twitch, his hips bucking up slightly. 

“s-sensitive,” he hissed, jaw tightening as he pressed his head back into the pillow. but he didn’t stop you, didn’t even try. if anything, his fingers dug harder into your thighs, holding you steady like he was afraid you’d pull away. 

“thought you could keep up,” you shot back, glancing up at him. his brows furrowed, his eyes squeezing shut for a second before they flickered back open. the teasing look on his face was gone now, replaced with something hungrier, more focused.  

you lined him up with you, heart thudding hard against your ribs. you’d done this before, but it felt different now… the weight of his eyes on you, the way his hands gripped you just a little tighter as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. the stretch was slow, inch by inch until you felt him fill you completely. 

“f-f—” his curse broke off into a low groan, his chest rising sharply as his hands slid up to your waist. “god, you’re—” he didn’t finish. couldn’t finish. his eyes screwed shut, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip so hard you thought he might draw blood.  

you braced your hands on his chest, fingers curling just slightly as you adjusted to the feeling. the heat in your core burned brighter, the ache of it twisting into something sharper, more desperate. you shifted your hips just a little, testing it, and the friction hit you so perfectly you gasped, nails digging into his chest.  

“you okay?” his voice was strained, barely more than a whisper, but there was a thread of concern woven through it. his eyes cracked open, heavy-lidded but focused on you.  

“mhm,” you nodded, breathless as you lifted your hips slowly, feeling every inch of him slide out before sinking back down just as slow. his head tipped back, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, a low groan rattling from his chest. 

“yeah, just like that,” he muttered, his grip on you loosening as he let you set the pace. “take your time, pretty girl.” his words slurred just a little, as if he wasn’t fully in control of them anymore. “feels so…” his breath hitched, head tilting back against the pillow. 

his hands never stopped moving, though. they roamed up your waist, across your ribs until they found your boobs, they played there for a minute before sliding down to grip your thighs again. every time you dropped your hips, you watched the way his face twisted — brows pulling together, lips parting, his eyes half-lidded and glassy. his fingers twitched, his grip faltering like he wanted to touch you everywhere at once. 

“harder,” he breathed, his voice so quiet you almost missed it. his eyes flicked up to yours, gaze locked, lips parted and shiny with spit. “don’t hold back.”  

you bit your lip, grinning through the burn in your legs as you shifted your pace and started going faster. the sound of it echoed in the room and you felt the warmth building low in your belly again, tighter and tighter with every roll of your hips. 

“y-yeah, just like that,” he gasped, voice cracking, his eyes fluttering shut again. he pressed his head back, the veins on his neck on full display, and you watched the way his adam’s apple bobbed with every uneven breath. his hands slid to your hips, guiding you in sync with his shallow thrusts upward. the movement was messy, desperate, his body seeking more even as he tried to hold on.  

“gonna—” he bit out, breath hitching sharply. his eyes flew open, wild and unfocused as he stared at you like he wasn’t even sure what he was about to say. “gonna— oh, fuck—” 

“yeah?” you gasped, leaning forward, your hands braced against his chest, fingers curling into his skin. “feels good, hm?” 

he didn’t answer with words. he answered with his body, hips snapping up to meet yours, his fingers dragging down your back, hard enough to leave little streaks of heat in their wake. his breathing grew choppy, his body locking up beneath you as his grip on your waist turned bruising. 

“don’t stop,” he panted, his voice rough, broken. “don’t— oh, fuck.” 

you didn’t. not until you felt every last bit of him give in. his whole body went taut, muscles straining beneath you, his grip locking you in place as he let himself go. he groaned so deeply it sounded more like a growl, his breath hot against your neck as he pulled you down to him, holding you close.

“what’s the verdict, doctor?” you asked, tracing circles on his chest, still sat on top of him.  

“hm,” he hummed with his eyes still closed, lips tugging up at the corners as if he was fighting off a grin. “patient shows signs of extreme confidence. possible cause: being too good at driving me crazy.”  

you snorted, tilting your head to look at him. “is that your professional diagnosis?”  

“oh, absolutely,” he said, cracking one eye open to meet yours. “might need to run some more tests, though. you know, for accuracy.”  

“yeah?” you leaned in, your lips ghosting over his jaw. “what kind of tests, doctor?”  

his hands slid up your back, fingers splayed wide as they pressed you closer. “thorough ones,” he muttered, his voice rasping against your ear. “real hands-on approach.”  

“sounds serious,” you teased, letting your nails drag lightly down his chest. “hope your credentials check out.”  

“i’m overqualified, baby,” he breathed, tipping his head back against the pillow with a lazy grin. “let me show you.”

part two

my inbox is always open for any comments about the fic!! thank you<3

[vaaaaaiolet]

Anxiety left you sleepless all night. Leon figures his favorite dream of you might help.

mdni CIAO CHILDREN!! f / m smut w established relationship. put bluntly, leon fucks the worry out of you 😭 he talks you through sex by retelling a dream, tiny bit of character study, PRAISE!! TONS of fingering, 0.5 sec of cockwarming, light angst, p in v w/ a happy ending iykwim, aftercare and i love you's awww. also strawberries 🍓

a / n: req fic from my event!! i took the premise from isle of strawberries by edwin raphael and you can find a playlist for this fic here. motivational smut is a first for me LMFAO but i hope this works w your vision, anon <3 also PEE AFTER SEX YOU GUYS

word count: 2.5k // read on ao3

The 5 AM sun shines rays through the cracks in your plan. You thought you’d been convincing enough with your face pancake-flat against the pillow and your left arm thrown out of the blanket just so. You’d even made sure you had a foot poking into Leon’s side the way he always grumps about, but somehow, your boyfriend always seems to see right through you.

Just like now. 

A busybody poke on your shoulder. “Sweetheart,” follows a drowsy whisper, “what’re you doing?”

Sleeping since last night, thank you very much.

“No use playing possum. You haven’t moved an inch since we went to bed and you, ma’am, can’t sleep still to save your life. C’mere,” and you’re tugged to Leon’s side of the bed, the top of your head peppered with slow, sleepy kisses as he hugs an arm around your middle. “Did you sleep at all tonight?”

You clutch his forearm like a safety bar on a rollercoaster. “A little.”

“Enough?”

“Um…” 

Leon kisses his teeth. He’s usually the one on the receiving end of these questions, but he’s picked up a couple things from you. “Too hot? Too cold? Anything I can get you?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just can’t fall asleep.”

A quiet sigh from you, a hum of understanding from him.

“Because you’ve been thinking again.” He asks if you want to talk about it.

“It’s just a bad night,” you mumble, playing absentmindedly with his fingers. “Overwhelmed. Been getting into my head about everything I should be doing but don’t. I feel like I’m letting everyone down all the time.” 

In the champagne pink of the early morning light pouring through the bedroom window, your eyes trace the corded muscle of Leon’s arm around you – a testament to the strength it takes to do his job every day. There’s scars here, burn marks there, a plum-hued bruise.

Your words stumble to a halt. Embarrassed color rises to your cheeks. 

The matter is that scars from his missions to the ends of the earth litter the chest cradling your back right now. Leon must be sore and aching, listening to you whine like a child with too much food on your plate. What could be keeping you up at night when he shoulders your worst nightmares for a living? All while you lay cuddled and coddled? You don’t know the first thing about worry, the paralysis in his bones that must pale to yours.

Guilt creeps up your spine, and Leon frowns at your sudden silence. You’re retreating into a shell he’s called home too many times. He won’t have any of that with you. 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he soothes, smoothing back your hair. “I’m still here. You don’t wanna talk right now?” 

You let go of his arm and burrow into your pillow, mumble about how you like sleeping late on weekends anyway.

A scoff sounds behind you. “Sleep late, my ass.” 

Leon’s arm comes circling back over your ribs in an instant. He squeezes you so tight to his chest that you feel his heart thump behind your back, and you can’t help the unexpected laugh that bubbles up your throat when he lets go. It’s his favorite reflex of yours.

“If you won’t talk, I will.” Leon presses a kiss to your cheek. “Gonna distract you for a bit, sweetheart. Humor me?”

“Hm?”

“I wanna tell you about my favorite dream. You’re in it.”

You can’t pretend that doesn’t catch your attention like lightning to a rod. Leon doesn’t dream much, not besides the nightmares that have him scrambling to throw off the covers in the middle of the night. 1998 hangs thick in the air of your bedroom some days, but for him to have a dream where you don’t die for a change? That’s new. 

So is his hand starting to creep under your sleep shirt, playful circles tracing on the soft skin below your navel. Part of his distraction strategy. A successful one, if the skip in your heart rate has anything to do with it.

“This okay?” he rasps.

More than. 

You reach behind, cradling his cheek to kiss him a proper hello; allow yourself an anticipatory inhale when Leon’s hand dives under the waistband of your shorts. It takes exactly three seconds for his middle finger to pinpoint the pearl of your clit, and he circles it twice, maddeningly slow, before sliding right under to trace along the seam of your entrance. 

Leon keeps the pressure light. He needs your head clear so you listen. 

“It always starts the same.” He shifts his hips so yours widen for him. “I’m standing in the middle of a huge field, a strawberry farm. There’s nothing around for miles, just rows of bushes full of berries and storm clouds in the distance. I find an empty basket in my hand.”

You imagine your mountain of a boyfriend holding a basket like Strawberry Shortcake. Adorable. “You dream about picking strawberries?” you giggle, arching your back to fit more comfortably against him, and your consideration earns you a searing dip of his finger into your pooling arousal. 

“That,” Leon chuckles, “and a nagging, sinking feeling that I should be doing something but I can’t.”

Oh. 

“Mhm. It hits me that I have to pick as many strawberries as I can before the storm rolls in, and I can’t even move, sweetheart.”

You swallow the returning lump in your throat. Push down a sigh that was building at the upward roll of his fingertip inside you. Leon tuts at your effort, coaxing the sound out anyway with a press of the spongy spot he knows is tucked at the back of your walls. You crumple at the delicious nudge; it leaves you open to welcome another finger into your warmth.

“But this is a good dream because,” Leon smiles at your next gasp, “then I see you at the edge of the field standing next to a little house, waving at me.” 

He scissors you open like he’s got all the time in the world. You clutch the corner of your pillow when you hear it through the comforter: the soft, rhythmic squelch of his fingers curling into your cunt.

Pretending he can’t hear your whimpered little curses as he coos in your ear, “There you go, listen to that,” Leon continues. “That’s when I start thinking. There’s no way I can save all these strawberries in time. You’re standing there, smiling at me without a clue there’s a storm brewing, and suddenly all I can think about is getting you into the house before you get hurt.”

His lesson becomes one of endurance the more he talks. The fingers pumping into your pussy melt your brain into mush that’s chanting, more, more! Exactly the root of your problem.

“So then I- oh, poor baby. This isn’t enough?” 

Shit. You forgot you talk in your sleep. And apparently when you get fingered too. 

“Guess I can’t blame you. I get distracted in the dream too, fuck.” There’s a pause, a sputtering stop to the lovely fullness when Leon pulls his fingers out and promptly sucks them off. 

Even a worm will turn; you certainly do. You whine Leon’s name when he makes a show of it, gazing at you with half-moon eyes and a boyish grin pulling at his lips. “What, it’s my fault you taste better than the strawberries did?” 

No, for leaving you hanging. You were paying attention — maybe a bit too much.

“It was you, by the way,” Leon chuckles, lifting the comforter so his knees can bracket your thighs. 

“I distracted you in the dream?” you gasp, sliding your hands up his shirt.

“In the best way, angel. You helped me get moving again.”

The peachy light of dawn caramelizes gold as Leon climbs on top of you. It doesn’t warm the bedroom quite yet; Leon makes sure the comforter is tucked over your bare skin after he finishes kicking off his pajama pants. He’s back to murmuring sweet nothings, gently tugging your shirt over your shoulders so he can kiss down the swell of your breasts. You’re so toasty under the covers that the goosebumps now speckling your chest are entirely his fault. 

“I remember you picking a few berries off a bush,” Leon looks fondly up at you under golden lashes, pressing a gentle kiss over your heart, “and you just looked so content eating them. I was fretting over saving the whole field and you were fine with a handful.”

You’re itching to ask: but the storm’s still coming, isn’t it? Thunder, rain, your aching cunt dripping onto the sheets right under him. 

Leon is all too happy to answer. 

One hand cradles the back of your head so he can drop his mouth onto yours, leaving the other free to slip under the blankets, rub consolation over the hood of your clit, and finally, finally, notch the swollen head of his cock at your entrance. You cry out, clutching at Leon’s hair when he sheaths himself in a buttery-smooth stroke – as if it could be any other way with how you’ve melted like chocolate in his hands. You both gasp at the stretch.

Leon’s jaw works as he kisses you, savoring you. Spit bridges your mouths in between split-second gulps of air. Your heart thumps against your ribcage like you’re hanging off a precipice, no difference in the dizzying drop that waits ahead. His length sits adjusting inside the squeeze of your plush walls. 

Leon’s sentences come out chopped and desperate as he alternates sucking berry-toned love bites between your breasts, and he admits, “I don’t save the all the strawberries.”

You wheeze as if you’ve dashed across the field yourself. “No?”

“Just enough to last us the storm. Fuck the rest, figure it’ll grow back. Only need to focus on what matters – getting enough for you – so I pick a couple,” the thick of his cock is suffocating when it’s this still, “run,” Leon pants at the first snap of his hips against yours, outrunning the storm all over again, “and pull you inside the house before lightning strikes.”

Electric pleasure curls up from the base of your spine, spreads to your head and flickers down to your toes as Leon starts pounding into your pussy. No room in your chest for anxiety to linger when your eyes are rolling skyward. The edges of your vision melt into vignette as your lover sinks into you again and again. 

Tunnel vision. 

“Keep those pretty eyes open. Focus on what matters,” he repeats in a frenzied whisper, and the tunnel closes in.

All you see are Leon’s eyes. Smack dab in the middle of his blown out pupils is your reflection.

That’s it.

Coherency goes flying out the window with all your brainpower used up to connect the dots. “Leon, you-!”

“Tell me what you see, sweetheart,” he breathes sharply. “I know you can.”

You beg for mercy at each dig of his blunt cockhead. “Me, I get it, fuck! Please- just let me come!”

Course he can, he just has to drill something else into you first. 

“Need to hear you say it,” Leon grits. Nips at the base of your neck as your nails claw stinging holds on his shoulders. “Shit, I’ll make you see stars, don’t worry, I just need to – oh, you’re so fucking tight! – get it in your head. You can’t shut down on me.”

You thrash under him, make more space for bruising kisses to bloom up your neck. “But you’ve had it worse,” you sob out, overwhelmed. 

“How else do you think I know?”

He’s not letting you head off into your own storm alone. Not when you’ve saved him from his.

“Tell me you’ll let me in next time you get in your head, and I’ll make you come. I’ll make you come so fucking good, baby,” Leon hisses, stealing one last kiss from your panting lips. 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

“I will.”

And you ought to thank your lucky stars your levees don’t hold. 

It starts with spiraling cracks. Leon reaching down to press his thumb over your swollen clit. One shaky thrust away from dislodging the last brick holding you together. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flutter of your cunt, choked breaths torn from his throat when the silken clutch of your walls sends him into that final crescendo. 

Leon’s fraying at the edges, obsessive in how rolls his thumb at the bundle of nerves that make you shriek his name, and you, hand in hand with him, finally let the swelling tsunami in the pit of your stomach topple your walls. 

Turns out he’s right. Stars explode across the night sky when your eyes squeeze shut. 

You can’t pay attention to much except the rolling tide of pleasure. Leon’s soon spilling into you, his brow pinched as he blindly works his spend into your cunt under the covers. His forehead glistens with sweat, hell, your baby hairs are a dripping mess, but strangely, you think you’ll spend the rest of your life chasing this warmth again. 

Your heart’s never felt more weightless. 

Glowing seconds sail by. Leon’s shaking arms eventually give way and he collapses onto your chest. You let out an “oof!” at the drop. 

“And then the dream ends,” you hear him sigh, eyelids fluttering shut.

About time, you think, smiling as you brush a thumb over his cheekbone. “Then you wake up?”

“No.” Leon cracks open a sapphire eye and grins. “Sometimes we do this.”

In the little hou- Oh. “Fuck you,” you laugh.

“It’s my favorite for a lot of reasons!” 

He sits up, keeping his touch featherlight when he pulls himself out from between your candied thighs. Tiny aftershocks jerk your thighs once, twice, and Leon takes the time to whisper soft apologies when he reaches for a tissue on the bedside table. 

“I meant it back there, y’know?” he hums, gently wiping off the mess between your legs. “I hate seeing you so hard on yourself.”

“It just feels like I’m making a big deal out of nothing. Especially when you’ve been through worse,” you mumble, picking at the covers.  

The tissue gets tossed into the trash, and Leon shoots you a small smile. “Worse to you, maybe. To me, the worst thing I’ve seen is watching you lose your spark and not being able to help.”

“You really think so?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I love you.”

So you remember your promise. 

You tell him you love him too, no more secrets to keep in your head. The bedroom blooms warmer than you remember it ever being, a little slice of summer straight out of both your dreams.

You remember the strawberries from the farmer’s market in the kitchen, and that Leon makes killer Sunday pancakes.

You remember how much you love afternoon catnaps with your limbs tangled between his. Infinite possibilities pile high like the papers on your work desk. So much to get started.

Focus on what matters. The rest will grow back.

You turn the other cheek, and kiss your lover on the mouth.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[wisecura]

Closer

College AU: somewhat enemies to lovers/fwb

Katsuki Bakugo x f!reader 3.3k

Summary: as long as you’ve known him, Bakugo has been your least favorite person. He’s loud, arrogant, and you’re his favorite target to mess with. And how you ended up at the same frat party, on the same night, in the same closet—you’ll never know.

Warnings: enemies to lovers trope, ex boyfriend, you aren’t completely aware how he feels, you hate him, semi-public sex, fingering, kissing, choking, degradation, belittling, pet names, not so nice names, your horny, aren’t we all?, breeding, claiming, jealousy, did I miss anything?

AN: Am I putting off my Sheets series to write another short fan fic? yes. Is that a bad thing? maybe. Should I stop?...*huffs indignantly* no.

Needed a change of pace for a minute so thank you for reading! This is entirely educational for me. I’m still new to writing and need a better grasp on writing out these scenarios and scenes. Thank you for giving this a shot and let me know how it is! Sorry if the proofread is a bit off!

The look in his eye was downright nasty.

Nothing short of plain cruel as he glared down at you.

How on earth you found yourself stuck in a damn near locker-sized closet was a mystery. And how you managed to find yourself squished against your absolute least favorite person, Katsuki Bakugo, was a goddamn anomaly.

“Can you get the hell off my foot-“ You shush him quickly, your ear peeled to the door.

“Don’t shush me. You’re the one who dragged me in here like a damn lunatic. You wanna play seven minutes that badly?”

You glare up at him in the dim closet, his stupid cocky smirk barely visible in the sliver of light from the cracks in the door. He was so smug it was almost unbearable standing this close to him. You’re already kicking yourself for acting so impulsively. Your voice hushes out in a whisper-“Oh, please. I’d rather be stuck in here with a rabid raccoon than you.”

“Tch, you’re practically clinging to me right now. You sure about that, princess?”

Your cheeks flush as you realize just how close you actually are to him, your chest brushing against his every time you breathe. The cramped space offers no room to move away, and his broad shoulders make it feel even smaller. “I’m not clinging to you, you idiot! There’s no fucking room in here to not be touching you.”

He chuckles lowly. The sound reverberating in his chest. You don’t know if it’s the stale beer running through your system or the fact that you hadn’t gotten laid in two months. It’s annoyingly attractive, and you hate the flush that settles across you face. Sure he was handsome as hell—6’2, chiseled body, handsomely sharp features. Deep red eyes that drew you in and that windswept blonde hair. And of course—what ruined everything for you—that mouth.

“Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.” Words dripping with a condescension that he reserved solely for you.

And those fucking pet names—You’re about to snap back when you hear the muffled sound of voices outside the closet. Your heart jumps into your throat as one of them catches your attention—it’s your ex. Just the one person you were trying to avoid. He was chatting with someone but it was muffled—“Yeah, I swear I saw her come upstairs. Someone said she'd be here tonight.”

Your blood runs cold, and your fingers instinctively clench at his chest. You lean in closer to hear him through the door. Bakugo stiffens at first, at your somehow closer proximity, then leans down slightly so his lips are near your ear.

“What? you scared—“ your hand covers his mouth in milliseconds. Effectively shutting up the loud mouthed blonde.

He manages to understand your wordless request…but his breath is so warm against your skin, and you curse yourself for the way it sends shivers down your spine. He notices, of course—because of course he does—and his grin turns downright wicked. In hushed tones—

“Relax, princess. He’s not gonna find you. Though if he does, this’ll be one hell of a misunderstanding, yeah?”

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah? And you’re a real pain in the ass, but here I am, letting you feel me up like your life depends on it.”

You want to shove him, tell him off, something—but the voices outside the closet are coming closer and closer. You press yourself back against the opposite wall, but only at expense of your stability. Those fucking heels that you insisted on wearing tonight almost took you out. Fortunately, Bakugo managed to steady you. And unfortunately, you now have to feel every inch of his chest pressed that much more against you. His hands now grip your waist tightly, and your almost flush with him. “Careful now. You’re starting to look a little flustered there.”

“I’m not flustered. I’m annoyed.”

“Sure, that’s what that is.” You hear your ex speak again, his voice laced with thinly veiled frustration. Now sounding right outside the door. “Where the hell is she? Did she sneak out or something?”

You hold your breath, your heart hammering in your chest as his footsteps pause. Bakugo notices, his teasing demeanor shifting slightly as his gaze flicks to a sliver in the door. For a moment, he looks almost serious. Before long, the footsteps retreat, and your ex’s voice fades as he heads back downstairs. You can hear his laugh echoing the hall.

The silence in the closet was deafening. You realize you’re still leaning against him as you attempt to move back. You don’t get far though, your legs are basically tangled at this point. Trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

“Don’t. Say. A word.”

Bakugo leans back against the wall, and you know he’s about to push every button you have. This was an awkward situation to be in. And all by your own doing.

“What, about how you were clinging to me like I’m your knight in shining armor? Or how red your face is right now?”

“I swear to god, I hate you.”

He pauses for a second. “Seriously, what’s his deal, though? Why the hell is he looking for you so damn bad? Thought you two were done.”

You glance up at him, your head spinning. The buzz you had was still going—not enough to consider yourself drunk, but enough to make the cramped closet feel warmer than it should be. His sharp crimson eyes are locked on you, his expression a little too serious. Once again he just looked pissed off. You have the mind to feel embarrassed about the situation. The two of you were never close, arguing more than anything.

“I don’t know. He’s…weird like that. He doesn’t like losing, even when he doesn’t actually want me.”

“Tch. Sounds about right. He’s always been a piece of shit.”

Your eyes narrow at him, even though deep down you know he’s right. His abrasive and blunt nature always grated on your nerves. Though there’s something about hearing it now, in this moment, that makes it hit differently. You'd never been one to back down from one of the many fights you shared with him.

“Oh, and you’re so much better? You’ve never been nice to me once, Bakugo.”

He snorts. “Yeah, maybe I’m not nice. But at least I’m not out there screwing around behind your back. You sure know how to pick 'em.”

His words sting and you feel your brows furrowing. You open your mouth to spew the nastiest insult on your tongue, yet before you can get it out, he leans in just enough to make the cramped closet feel all the more smaller. Now sporting some heavy bedroom eyes, his smug looking face come within inches of yours.

“Do you ever close that damn mouth of yours? That’s probably the real reason you and that asshole aren’t together anymore.”

Irritation bubbling over—half from indignation, half from the way his voice drops lower, rougher, like he’s daring you to argue. Why this turns you on so much, you aren’t sure. You felt your thighs clench slightly. Tying to steady your breathing.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to talk so much if you weren’t always such a jackass!”

You expect him to snap back, to argue, to yell—but instead, he tilts his head, his smirk widening. Knowing. He shifts against you, spreading out all the more, making you hyper-aware of just how close he is. Your heart pounds, the buzz of alcohol mixing with you shit sense of judgement.

Then it happens—you feel his leg between yours, grazing high up on your inner thigh, and a small, involuntary whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it.

Your hand shoots up to your mouth in horror. Embarrassment washing through your very being. The sound hangs in the air, and you instantly wish you could take it back. His eyes widen slightly, obviously a little surprised, before narrowing again. Of course, he leans into it, the teasing his smirk turning downright predatory.

“What the hell was that, princess?”

Your face burns, and you try to turn away, but there’s nowhere to go in the tiny closet. He pulls you closer, the balance on your heels easily teetering you towards him. You try and scramble off his chest—out of the closet, embarrassed and unnervingly needy. But he pulls you towards him again, your hands planted on his chest. You sure as hell couldn't stand the thought of him being the one to throw you a bone tonight. His voice dropping to a taunting whisper.

“Now—hey, hey, where you goin? You just whimper for me? Never thought I’d hear you make a sound like that.”

“I—I didn’t—shut up! and let go!” You hate how breathless you sound. The warmth of his body between your legs was overwhelming, and every inch of space between you feels like too much. You really fucking hated him. Yet the way he looked tonight was so tempting. But that was just the alcohol talkin.

“Nah, I don’t think I will. Not when you’re lookin' at me like that.”

You try to look anywhere but at him, but there’s not much to see in a dim closet, is there? He leans in just enough that his lips are inches from your ear, his voice a low rumble that makes your knees weak. Thank god he was holding you up, right?

“Guess you’re not as tough as you like to act, huh? Or maybe…you just like being put you in your place.”

You open your mouth to argue, to tell him he’s wrong, but the words die in your throat as his hand brushes up your side, slow and deliberate, groping you above your dress. He’s toying with you, and the bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s infuriating how your body betrays you, leaning into his touch. Your fingers grip at his shirt. Your pussy clenching around nothing. His head is firmly planted in the crevice of your neck now, in a far too intimate gesture.

“What’s it gonna be, princess? You gonna tell me to stop? Or are you gonna admit you don’t hate me as much as you think you do?”

You don’t have a second to answer as he nips at you, trailing small kisses in his wake. You feel your hands tremble as you wrap your arms around his neck. You pull him closer.

Bakugo's grip tightens on your waist as you lean into him involuntarily. His cock twitches at the feeling of you pressed against him, as he grinds himself into your sopping core. Your hitched dress making it all the easier. “At least she seems to like me.”

You gasp at the sudden intrusion of his fingers rubbing you through your panties, your eyes rolling back as he expertly plays with your clit. His lips continue their bruising pace, sucking, marking, biting until he finally captures your lips in a brutal all consuming kiss. You whimper against his lips, the punishing pace on your clit has your head spinning. He pulls back, a wet string connecting your lips.

"Fuck you're so wet for me already. Practically drippin'."

He pulls his fingers back, dragging them across his lips, sucking you down till he was clean. His eyes remain on your dazed expression. Yours trail the movement, absolutely feral, practically begging for more. It’s been to long.

"'N you taste so fuckin' good too." His gaze darkened as he watched your hips move against him, seeking some kind of friction. You could feel the heat through his clothes, his dick pressed right up against you. You so badly wanted it inside you—your mouth, your tight hole, hell—anywhere.You couldn’t help but be angry at the loss of his fingers.

"Such a needy little thing. Mmm princess, you're killing me.” You all but whimper at his words, and his restraint snaps. With a damn near animalistic growl, he pins you back against the wall, effectively caging you in place. His head dips, capturing your lips again in another hungry kiss while his free hand hikes your dress up further. He all but rips your panties off, the loud ripping of fabric echoes in the confined space.

You barely notice him slotting them into his pocket, as his fingers finally delve into your slickened folds. His cocked throbbed almost painfully in his pants as you completely melt against him.

You moan against his lips as his fingers slide into your slick heat, a filthy sound escaping you as he starts pumping them in and out roughly. He curls his fingers inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that makes you tremble and whimper even more. He feels your walls tighten around his digits, your body begging for release. He pulls away, looking down at your flushed face, heavy breaths fogging the air between you.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Instead of any coherent response, you let out a needy whimper, trying to avoid giving him the satisfaction of you begging. As if his fingers weren't knuckle deep in your cunt, making you light headed. As if he weren't inches from giving you the best orgasm you've had all year.

"Not good enough, princess. Tell me how much you want my cock inside you." He nibbles your earlobe, his fingers increasing their pace, pushing you closer to the edge. He was being mean. You know he's just taunting you. But you hated the way his words made you gush.

He could obviously feel your body tensing up, he knew you were close. But you know he won't let you come until you said what he wanted. He bites down harder on your earlobe, eliciting a yelp from you. His other hand grips your hip tightly, steadying you as he thrusts his fingers in deeper. Your slick coating his hand, dripping down your thigh. "Say it," he growls, his voice low and demanding. Your body writhes against his touch, your whimpers and whines picking up. "Come on. You know you want to. Beg me to fill you up." You getting wetter and wetter, gushing around his fingers as they slid in and out effortlessly.

"Please Katsuki…fuck me…please…" Finally, rewarded with your broken plea, he smirks triumphantly before pulling his fingers out of you, leaving you damn near foaming at the mouth.

"About time," He growls, savoring the sweet sound of your desperate panting before he roughly pushes your legs further apart, hiking one leg up. His fingers bruising your thigh, spreading you open for him. His fingers are replaced by something far better—his hard cock. His head falls back with a strangled moan leaving his lips when he finally buries himself in your sloppy cunt. Bakugo doesn't take his time, no, he fucks you like he owns you.

Hard and fast, like a man starved. His movements are rough and animalistic, his hips slamming into yours with groans and grunts of his own. You're sure people outside can hear you, even over the loud music. But you're so cock-drunk, mind hazy that you don't really fucking care who hears you—you just want him.

"You're so goddamn tight, princess." He mutters, his voice husky, and sounding almost impressed. You let out a choked moan, nails digging into his shoulders. He grasps your hip roughly, his pace picking up. Thrusting deeper, faster, harder, until all you can hear are your wet squelches filling the closet. Your tight little pussy clenching around him like a vice. He groans against your neck, teeth digging into the tender flesh.

"Such a greedy little slut, aren't you?" You aren't able to respond—his cock bullying your cervix at every thrust, oh so deliciously. Each word bringing you closer and closer, as you practically drool at the thought of his cum buried into you. You meet his thrust with your own small grinds as he gives you another throaty moan. "Oh fuck yes—" His grip on you tightens, sure to bruise indents forming under his fingertips, as he drives his fat cock into you g-spot repeatedly. "Is this what you wanted? Wanted my big cock to full you up?" thrusting harder with each word. "Fucking needy little thing, you wanna cum for me?" His hand winds up to wrap around your neck, as you clench harder around him. He hisses at the feeling, "Or should I just leave you unsatisfied like that worthless ex of yours?" He smirks down at you and you cant help the gasps coming from your wet lips. "He ever make you this wet, sweetheart? You ever had such a good cock?" You shake your head, quickly, always eager to please.

"No, I fucking thought so." His tone drips with satisfaction. He thrust into you with a brutal ferocity, clearly enjoying the way you whimper and squirm under his touch. "You always did have shit taste in men." His grip tightens on your neck, not enough to suffocate you, but enough to make you gasp and dip your nails in deeper. "But that ends now, princess." He growls against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "I'm gonna be the only one fucking you like this from now on. You hear me? Should I tell you what I'm going to do to you? How I'm going to fill you up—make you mine?" His words are hot against your ear, his breath fanning over your flushed skin. That dick hitting every sweet spot that makes you see stars. "Or maybe I’ll just show you."

His fell grip on your neck tightens just a fraction, making it more difficult to breathe as he slams into you even harder. You hear people in the hallway, but he doesn't seem to care. "I'm gonna fuck you so good you won’t even remember your own name, let alone his." His words boarded on venomous, and if you didn’t know any better—you’d say he was jealous. His hips grind against yours in a punishing rhythm. "Then I'm gonna cum inside you, fill you up with my seed." His voice drops to a low growl as he whispers his intentions into your ear. "I'm gonna breed you. Make you mine." He can feel you tensing around him, your orgasm building fast. "Say it, princess. Say you want me to breed you." He thrusts his fingers into your mouth, coated in your own juices. "Say you want my cum inside you."

"Please, Katsuki…fuck, please, please cum inside me…breed me—" he lets out a low groan at that. "Such a good girl, so fucking good for me." That's all the encouragement he needs. With a growl, he slams into you one last time, his cock pulsing as he fills you up, long streams of curses filling the small space, telling you to take it, take it, sucha good girl. Your walls contracting around him, milking him dry as your orgasm crashes over you, spasming around his cock. His grip on your neck loosens slightly as he pulls back, watching as you ride out your climax. Your eyes are glazed over, mouth open as you try to catch your breath.

"Fuck, princess. That was…goddamn." He pants, resting his forehead against yours. For a brief moment, his expression softens, but it's gone as fast as it appeared. He withdraws from you slowly, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. You can feel his cum pooling between your legs, dripping down. He reaches down, pushing it back up into you, plugging you up.

"Mmm, look at you. Such a mess for me." He says, voice low and husky, before leaning in and licking a long, possessive stripe on your neck. His body pressing in against yours. Your cheeks ignite at the intimate gesture. It’s felt too—too intimate now. Too much. You finally have some clarity at the situation, "Hey, uhm—" and suddenly there was a knock. Both of your eyes shoot wide open in panic. Bakugo straightens up, pulling himself back leaving you cold, before tucking himself back into his pants. You watch in mortification, tugging your dress back over you legs. You panties missing—somewhere.

Fuck

come home

[always-just-red]

I wanted a slightly suggestive fluff with the twins if that's alright👁️👄👁️

A scenario in which they're finally done with Sylus's tasks for the day and get to spend some time with MC

CRYINGGG anon I low-key did deviate from the brief but I had this idea and I just ended up running with it. I hope you enjoy, regardless! I went into this ambivalent towards Luke and Kieran but something just possessed me honestly. Also dragged Sylus into it because there's no way in hell I wasn't subjecting him to this dynamic!! 😇 (I made MC here separate from canon MC for plot reasons, but if you want a fic with the twins and canon MC, just let me know!)

Onychinus' Finest

Luke and Kieran x Reader

Summary: All in a day's work for Sylus's loyal and committed worker bees crows

Genre: fluff & shenanigans

Warnings/Additional tags: MDNI (not smut but it's a lil spicy and I'd rather play it safe tbh), f!reader, nonMC!reader, platonic Sylus x reader, humour, swearing, suggestion, kisses, the twins are just obsessed with your legs honestly and who could blame them

| Word count: 2.1k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Your call connects almost instantly.

“What?” Sylus hisses from the other end, and you get the impression he’s disappointed.

“Oof,” you groan, smiling, “what’s the matter, boss? Waiting on a call from a certain Deepspace Hunter?”

There’s silence in your ear, but not far from you, Kieran snickers. Your smile broadens. “You have three seconds,” Sylus seethes, with the precarity of a pot that could boil over at any moment, “to tell me what I want to hear.”

Three seconds is a bit of a push. You’re sat on a desk and Kieran is tapping away at the computer beside you, the light of the screen catching the sharp features of his mask; he looks like something from a horror story. You nudge his knee with your foot. He glances at you.

Wrap it up, you signal with a twirl of your forefinger.

His mask tilts downwards, almost imperceptibly, and you know he’s glaring at you from behind it. He flashes his middle finger back and you chuckle, watching him return to his work. “Files should be on their way shortly,” you explain to Sylus, because you know when to stop pushing your luck. “Ever’s upped the security on these damn computers. The device that guy sold you didn’t do shit.”

It’s also now pieces of a device, shattered against the floor from when Kieran had thrown it down and stepped on it in frustration. You’re not gonna mention that.

Sylus sighs impatiently, but there’s a hint of regret. “I knew there was something off about that deal. Do you think he tipped them off?”

You glance around the room and it’s littered with bodies. Not dead! Just… unconscious. At least, most of them, you think. “Yeah…” you muse. It was a lot more security than there should have been in a high-rise office in the middle of the night. “You might be onto something there, boss.”

Another sigh from Sylus. You watch Luke as he finishes looting— wait, no— checking the last of the security guards for anything helpful. He’s found a phone and he’s staring down at it, head tilted, reminding you of Mephisto. You briefly wonder what came first: the crow masks or the crow-like behaviour. Maybe you’ll ask Sylus one day.

Luke lifts the phone, holding it at arm’s length, and you realise he’s taking a selfie. He pivots until you and Kieran are in the background, and you lean into the frame, making a peace sign with your free hand. The moment is captured. Luke tosses the phone over his shoulder and it hits the floor with a crack.

“Are you all alright?” Sylus checks, and you know his eyes are burning with frustration, even though you can’t see them. He wears a mask too— most of the time— it’s just a little more figurative than yours or the twins’. You’re an expert at reading past them by now.

“Yeah,” you say, “we signed up for this, remember? You’ve got the best of the best, right here.” You glance between Luke and Kieran. “Well, the best of the best and her sidekicks.”

“Hey!” Kieran interjects. “You wanna have a go on this computer?”

“No,” you lilt back sweetly. What’s he gonna do— make you? Sure enough, he goes back to tapping away, his head sagging slightly, and you can tell he’s pouting.

Luke has wandered closer to the pair of you. “How much longer?” he whines, throwing himself into a wheely chair, setting it on a slow collision course with Kieran’s. You stop it with your leg.

“Shut up,” Kieran snaps. “At least I’m doing something.”

“I can do something,” Luke retorts. He captures your ankle, pulling it away from the leg of his chair, and rests a hand on your shin.

“Something isn’t in the mood right now.” You lift your foot from his grasp, inching it up his lower abdomen, and he groans as you plant it against his chest. “So unprofessional,” you tut.

You’d stifled your phone against your chest, but you can hear a deep voice leaking out of it. “Say that again, boss?” you request, bringing it back to your ear.

“How long is this going to take?” Sylus repeats.

“Not long. You know what they say, though…” You meet the eyes of Luke’s mask. Your tone drops: “All good things to those who wait.”

Luke’s chair squeaks, rolling back as you push him away with a soft kick.

“Fine,” Sylus murmurs, “Mephisto is with me. Stay on the line, and send the files through when you can. I’ll check them before you leave. If they knew we were coming, there’s a chance that—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get the picture,” you interrupt. You get Kieran’s attention again, then gesture between the computer and the phone. The beak of his mask dips as he nods.

Luke has used your lapse of focus to draw himself close to you again. He takes your ankle once more and guides it to rest in his lap, one hand tight— holding you in place— and the other deftly undoing the buckles on your boot. After a few clinks, he pulls it from your foot, the leather dragging down over your skin and leaving it cold. He throws the boot at his twin’s leg.

Kieran huffs as it tumbles to the floor. He doesn’t look away from the computer, but you know he wants to. Now that’s professional.

Decidedly committed to another priority, Luke draws shapes on your lower leg, his finger grazing over your shin and ankle. He’s staring down, fixated, and maybe they aren’t shapes— maybe they’re letters. Every stroke of his finger is deliberate. You could ask what he’s writing, but you really don’t care so long as it’s more than a word or two.

If it is, he doesn’t have the patience for it. His fingers walk higher, stopping only as they reach your knee. The fabric of your dress is draped over your leg and he pushes it aside, letting it slink closer to the floor. He looks up at you, head angled like a question.

“Any progress?” Sylus asks.

You’re holding your phone between your ear and your shoulder, both hands splayed on the desk beside you so you can lean slightly back. “Getting there,” you say, lips curving. You’re not looking at the computer.

You could swear you hear Luke laugh, but it’s ever so faint. He rests his whole hand on you, warming your lower leg with broader strokes, and whatever he wrote has been erased. Your breath catches as his touch moves above your knee, and it’s a tiny sound; no-one would notice.

Kieran’s mask turns towards you. “Oh, come on,” he sighs. “No fair.”

It’s an intimate art: seeing behind a mask. You have to notice everything.

“So hurry up,” Luke answers, his voice heavier than the last time he spoke. His chest rises and falls with every breath, just a little slower, a little deeper.

Kieran rolls his eyes—you guess, from the listless way his attention goes back to the screen— and you detect a huff. “Not fair,” he says to himself. He repeats it as he punches keys with his fingers: “Not fair. Not fair.”

Luke shakes his head gently: a fond exasperation rather than anything serious. He rolls his chair closer until he’s framed by your legs, then lifts your ankle to rest on his shoulder. His fingers curl, the pads of them brushing over the top of your foot idly, but it tickles, so you try to pull away. He grasps your ankle again. “Nuh-uh, kitten,” he teases.

It’s one of your favourite in-jokes; you laugh. Sylus can still hear you, and you’re glad he doesn’t know it’s at his expense. “Something funny?” he asks. Maybe he does know.

“Yeah,” you say. He could string you upside-down with his Evol and you’d still never tell him what.

Luke is chuckling to himself, and the sound changes as he lifts his mask just enough to free the lower half of his face. It’s not the first time, but it sobers you instantly. He turns to press his lips to your ankle, leans in— kisses further up. Leans in again— his mouth moves higher.

“Why so wriggly?” he speaks into your knee. “Stop.”

“You stop,” you counter, reaching forward to grab one of the horns peeking out of his hood. You use it to pull him away. Make him look at you. “Your little book on conquest doesn’t work on me.”

His lips widen into a smirk.  

“What book?” Sylus’s voice echoes.

You smirk as well. “Ask your pet hunter.”

You’re interrupted by a thud and your head spins. Kieran is standing up, slapping the top of the computer in frustration. “C’mon, work!” he urges. “So freakin’ slow.”

“Ah, ah, ah.” You shoo him away from the computer like you would a too-friendly pigeon from your lunch.

He flaps back in answer, his hand engaging yours in a brief slap-fight before he backs down. He slumps into his chair, defeated. “It’s almost there,” he groans, folding his arms. “Hey, Luke? Wanna swap?”

“No.”

“Do it,” you prompt.

Luke’s head rolls begrudgingly. “Yes ma’am. Jeez.” He plants a warm kiss on your leg again before clambering out from underneath it, pulling his mask back down over his face.

Another moment later and Kieran is in front of you instead. “You ok?” you wonder out loud.

“Bored.” He rests his head sideways on your thigh. His fingers find your bare lower leg and he runs them up, down, up, down, but it’s soft and purposeless. Soon, his head lifts— thin, red eyes staring up at you. The gaze doesn’t waver as he leans back in his chair and starts to unfasten your other boot.

“She’s gonna get cold,” Luke quips from the computer.

“Nah. She’s not.”

Your skin prickles as Kieran pulls away your boot, like a reflection of his brother, but tortuously more slow. He lets the cool air of the room set in. “Huh,” he corrects himself. “Maybe she is.”

You get the sense you’re being punished; both of them are petty. You’re pettier, though. “Sylus?” you speak into the phone.

“Mmm?”

“Did I ever tell you about the time that Kieran— ah!”

In a heartbeat Kieran has lifted his mask— not enough, but enough— and planted a kiss above your knee. His hand is around your leg, pushing it further from the other, and you can’t help but gasp again.

“What are you…” Sylus starts to ask, but then he changes his mind. “No. I don’t want to know.”

“You sure, boss?” you chuckle breathlessly. “It might surprise you.”

“Nothing would surprise me at this point, sweetie. Those files had better be on their way.”

You tear your gaze away from Kieran to glance over at Luke. He’s sat, propped on an elbow, his chin in his palm, and he’s definitely not looking at the computer. He sits up straight under your scrutiny. Turns to the screen. After a few more drums of the keyboard, he gives you a thumbs up.

“Got it,” Sylus chimes in, no doubt perusing the files already. “Nothing seems amiss. Nice work.”

“Thanks, boss,” you grin. “I’ve been working very, very hard.”

The phone is snatched from your hand. “She has, sir!” Kieran speaks into it. He stands, putting it on speaker before setting it down beside you. “I think she deserves the night off.”

There’s a crash as he shoves the computer from the desk, and Luke leans back, swinging his feet up onto the now empty space. He lifts his mask marginally to put two fingers to his lips, whistling in celebration. There’s a slow clap for good measure, too.

Kieran bows to him with a flourish. Then to you; you bow your head back.

“I’m hanging up,” Sylus states plainly.

“Ok,” you chirp, distracted. “I hope she calls you soon, boss!”  

“I don’t… I’m not…” your leader stutters. He reconsiders. “Thank you. Don’t think, however, that I’m—”

He doesn’t get to finish the warning, threat, or whatever else it was. Luke’s finger stands proudly on the phone, still connected to the ‘end call’ button. “What?” he dismisses as you and Kieran look at him. “I slipped! If boss asks, you saw me slip.”

“I did see it,” Kieran nods.

“I saw it too,” you add solemnly.  

There’s silence for a single moment, and there’s never silence with you three around. It lasts as long as it usually does.

You all burst into laughter.

[mommyslittlebird]

You Look So Good (On Your Knees)

Voyeur!Mommy!Wanda x Daddy!Natasha x Reader

What was supposed to be just a weekly movie night quickly turns into something else when you catch a glimpse of something you weren’t supposed to see.

CW: Voyeurism, threesome, strap-on, flogging, orgasm denial (? A tiny bit?), caught in the act (once again a tiny bit), punishment, dacryphilia, degradation, hair pulling, choking (not really), reader calls WandaNat mommy/daddy

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This is for @wandamaximoffsbadgirl. Thank you for all your help! I hope this was worth clawing your way under the door. Writing this (particularly the very end) has put me in a total WandaNat x Reader tailspin so expect some fluffy domestic stuff in the coming weeks.

A/N: I kinda sorta definitely double dipped for this fic, and it’s a spin of a different fic I did for a different fandom. But new fandom new crowd, and I figure almost none of you have read my non-marvel work. So the self-plagiarism is strong, but will probably go unnoticed anyway.

“Wanda? Natasha?” You called into the seemingly empty house.

It was Thursday night, your designated movie night with the couple: your long term friends and fuck buddies. They’d given you a key months ago. So, when you knocked and no one answered you just let yourself in.

You set down your bag in the living room, looking for them around the house. Their cars were both in the driveway. They had to be home. After investigating the first floor, you went upstairs. Maybe they were already in the bedroom waiting for you. That is where you always had your movie nights, after all.

You cracked the door open to find them both on the bed, Natasha underneath Wanda in an intense kiss. Natasha was grinding up against Wanda’s thigh, whining and breathless. You could tell by the way her hips were starting to falter, she was close. They must’ve been at this for a while. You didn’t want to interrupt.

You took a step back, trying to quietly shut the door. Maybe you could just wait downstairs until they finished. But before you could click the door fully shut, you heard Wanda’s commanding voice. “Not so fast, little girl.”

You sighed. You’d been caught. You opened the door back up, revealing Wanda pulling herself away from her wife. She looked at you with a cold glare, curling her fingers, instructing you to come to her.

She had you stand between her legs at the foot of the bed. “Did you not think to knock when coming into mommy and daddy’s room?”

“I-I knocked outside! I couldn’t find you! I was just looking for-“ you desperately tried to explain.

Wanda cut you off with a smirk. “Well, you found us.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Oh but honey, you did interrupt,” Wanda explained condescendingly. “You interrupted and now daddy doesn’t get to cum.”

“W-what? No but she was so close! Please let her cum mommy,” you pleaded on Natasha’s behalf. You genuinely felt terrible. You knew what that kind of denial felt like and you would never wish it on anyone, especially not your daddy.

Natasha smiled when you jumped to her defense, joining you and Wanda at the end of the bed. She beckoned you over to her, quickly pulling you to sit on her lap. She wrapped her arms around your waist, whispering into your ear. “It’s okay, baby. You're gonna make daddy cum so good later, aren’t you?”

You whimpered, shivering against her. God, you had hoped movie night would start like this.

“But for right now,” Wanda started. “We’ve got to teach somebody a lesson about knocking, don’t we? It’s your fault daddy didn’t get to cum, so daddy should be allowed to punish you, shouldn’t she?”

You looked to Natasha, who just raised her eyebrows expectantly, and then you nodded. “Yes mommy.”

“That’s our good girl,” Wanda purred, running her hand down the side of your face and lightly pinching your cheek. “Now, daddy’s gonna get you all set up on the bench while mommy goes to get some toys, okay?”

They both stood almost synchronously. Wanda briefly disappeared into the next room while Natasha hoisted you up in her arms, laying you face down on the leather bench next to the bed. She propped the back part up so it turned into more of a seat.

Wanda came from the closet with a long black leather flogger, her implement of choice for this particular scene. She handed it to Natasha, who smiled and gave her a kiss. Wanda sat down next to you, propped up over a seat you were now straddling.

She wiped the hair from your face. “Ready?”

You nodded into the soft, plush leather of the seat. You could already feel yourself easily slipping into that fuzzy space, where all the thoughts, worries, and responsibilities became irrelevant.

Wanda smiled, noticing the way your eyes glazed over. “I need to hear you say it, angel.”

“Yes, mommy,” you said as clearly as you could muster.

Wanda ran the back of her hand down your cheek. You shivered. She was the only lesbian you’d ever meet who always wore acrylics. The sharp point of her stiletto nails on your face sent tingles down your spine. You closed your eyes, losing yourself to the sensation.

You felt the leather tassels of the flogger brush lightly against your back. You whimpered, squirming in your seat.

“You don’t have to count, honey,” Wanda soothed. “Just let go. Mommy and daddy are gonna take care of you. You don’t have to think about anything at all.”

With that you felt the first sharp sting of leather snap against your back. You let out a noise between a whimper and moan. Natasha started slow, each hit a distinct sensation on your back, but as she started to pick up the pace, the strikes became less distinct.

In less than five minutes, she’d made a mess of you. You whined and squirmed against the leather seat.

“Aww sweetheart,” Wanda cooed. “Do you need mommy to hold you still while daddy whips you?” Before you could answer, the blows stopped. 

“Nooo…” you whined. “Daddy keep going. Please I promise I’ll sit still. Please don’t stop.”

Despite your protest, you felt two strong hands pick you from your seat. “I’m not done, princess,” you heard Natasha’s soft voice say. “But you’ve gotta stop squirming or I’m accidentally going to hit you in the kidneys.”

You were lowered into Wanda’s lap, where your legs were forced wider apart in order to straddle her. It made it significantly harder to move. She locked her hand around your thigh to keep you in place. Her other hand gently massaged your hair. “That’s it honey. Mommy will make sure you stay nice and still.”

Her long nails against your scalp were almost enough to make the thoughts fly from your head. “But… But you’ll get hit.”

Wanda chuckled and kissed your temple. “Daddy has excellent aim, sweetheart. I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about anything at all.”

The leather cracked against your back again. It hurt more now that your back was already raw. If not for Wanda’s hand pinning you in place, you might’ve jumped off her lap entirely. You whined wrapping your arms around Wanda.

She cradled your head over her shoulder, gently shushing your cries as she watched Natasha bring the leather down against your back over and over again.

“Mommy…” you whined into her ear. You were trying to ride her thighs like you had ridden the leather seat, but the awkward position prevented you from getting any friction whatsoever. It wasn’t even until Wanda felt drops of warmth on her thighs that she realized why you were whining.

“Aww,” she hummed, “you’re making a bit of a mess on mommy’s lap, baby.”

“I’m sorry, mommy,” you mumbled into her shoulder. “I just… it feels so good.”

“All this just from a flogging, sweetheart?” She teased. She would’ve loved to tease you further, but she was genuinely afraid you’d accidentally hurt yourself if she stopped holding you in place, much less if she had her hand between your legs.

You blushed, burying your face into her neck. “Mommy…” you whined when the leather stung your back once again. “Mommy please…”

Wanda’s heart melted at your words. The combination of your pathetic voice begging her for relief and your frail body in her arms made her want to ruin you in a different way. You were just so vulnerable. It would be such a waste to not take advantage of you in this state. “Alright,” She cooed. “I think she’s learned her lesson, hasn’t she Tasha?”

Natasha chuckled, but she stopped her flogging. “Do you think she’s learned her lesson, or have you just gone soft for a ‘mommy please’?”

Wanda wrapped her arm around your back, long nails still masterfully massaging your scalp. She rocked you back and forth in her lap. “Oh come on Tasha, look at her: getting all pathetic and leaky in her mommy’s lap. Doesn’t it just make you wanna…”

“Throw her on the bed and fuck her into the mattress until the only things in her little head are mommy and daddy?” Natasha finished.

“Exactly,” Wanda smiled mischievously. It was such a marvelous thing that she married someone who was always on the same wavelength as she was.

You were promptly picked up out of Wanda’s lap from behind. You whined, reaching out for Wanda.

“Now now,” Natasha chided. “None of that. Mommy’s not going anywhere. She’s gonna be here with you the whole time.”

She guided you to kneel on the bed, nudging your legs apart. Almost instinctively, your hands were crossed at the wrist behind your back.

Wanda hadn’t exactly planned on binding your wrist, but when you sat so perfectly, so expectantly, she could hardly resist.

“Natasha, would you like to bind this little darling's hands for us?” She instructed.

Natasha smiled, eagerly grabbing a length of pink ribbon and getting to work on tying your wrists together. She so loved tying you up. While a simple figure 8 around the wrists would’ve done the trick, she decided instead on a more complex design that would bind you up to the elbow. She knew she had time. Wanda would require a thorough inspection before she’d let Nat fuck you.

Wanda ran a singular finger through your slit. Her cold rings and sharp nail bumped over your clit as she dragged her hand upward. The sensation caused you to jump and whimper. Wanda just chuckled, bringing her finger lightly up your body until it was at your lips. You took her finger obediently between your lips.

“Do you think your ready for daddy to fuck you, baby?” she asked. “Does this needy pussy want daddy’s cock?”

You nodded, trying not to wince as her rings made their way onto your tongue, filling your mouth with a metallic taste.

“Which of daddy’s toys do you want, huh?” She asked, intentionally pushing down on your tongue so you couldn’t talk. “I’ll think I’ll have daddy use the purple strap. The one with the- what did you call them- the ‘mean ridges’? The ones that scrap against your special spot?”

You whined around her finger, giving her the most endearing puppy dog eyes you could possibly muster.

“Oh sweetheart,” she cooed, “do you not like that one? Maybe you’d prefer it if daddy tied you to the chair and you watched her fuck mommy instead, hmm? Maybe you’d just prefer not to have any orgasms at all?”

You shook your head frantically. You wanted to protest, to promise you’d be good and take that dreaded purple strap, but you couldn’t speak.

She chuckled. “That’s what I thought, baby. You’re gonna be a good girl for mommy and daddy, aren’t you?”

You nodded. She pulled her finger from your mouth and tilted your head up to kiss you gently.

“That’s our sweet girl,” she praised. “Aw it looks like daddy’s finished tying you up all pretty. Can you say thank you to daddy?”

You craned your neck to the side, trying to see her behind you. “Thank you, daddy, for tying me up all pretty.”

Natasha laughed, pulling you back towards her by the ribbon. She kissed you and smiled. “You’re welcome, baby. Can you show mommy your pretty ribbon?”

You attempted to turn around to show Wanda the way your hands and arms were intricately bound behind your back, but Natasha pushed you forward into the mattress. You yelped, surprised by the sudden move.

“A present, wrapped special for you, my love,” Natasha said to Wanda, leaning over you to kiss her wife.

“You always know just what to get me,” Wanda breathed against her lips. “Now go get ready, love. I wanna watch you make our sweet little girl cry.”

Natasha climbed off the bed behind you, disappearing into the next room.

Wanda’s nails were against your sore back, rubbing soothing as you lay in wait. You attempted to sit up, but Wanda clicked her tongue. “No, baby,” she chided. “Stay just like this.”

You felt the bed dip as Natasha climbed back on behind you. Her calloused hands lifted your hips so you were kneeling tall. The angle forced your face even further into the mattress. You couldn’t put your hands out to hold yourself up with them tied up behind your back.

Natasha ran the tip of the strap up and down your slit, pulling a muffled moan from your lips. She lined the toy up with your entrance, gently easing it inside. She threw her head back and moaned as she felt each of the ‘mean ridges’ push into you, then she pushed your hips forward and pulled them back, silently commanding you to fuck yourself as you adjusted to her girth.

The toy was, admittedly, slightly too big for you to manage without any discomfort. The ridges cruelly raked against your inner walls, causing you to wince with each movement. But with time, you were able to adjust to feel only a slight, delicious stretch.

After you’d grown to a moderate pace, Natasha took over, grabbing your thighs and pulling them back to meet her own. You let your body go limp, allowing Natasha to control your movements completely. You were putty in her hands.

“Fuck, Wands you should see her from here,” Natasha groaned, looking down and watching the large toy disappear inside of you over and over again. “Fuck it’s like she swallowing me whole. Needy little cunt. Can’t get enough of daddy’s cock can you?”

You tried to bury your face into the sheets to muffle the noises she tore from you, but you were unsuccessful. Without your hands or your arms, your range of motion was severely limited.

Wanda’s eyes went wide and her face cracked into a smile when she heard the first hiccup of a cry. She leaned forward. “Tasha, hold her up. I want to see her face.”

Natasha reached down and grabbed your hair, pulling your head up so you were face to face with Wanda. She could see the build up of tears in the corners of your eyes and the way your bottom lip quivered, threatening to give way to a sob.

“Aww, sweet girl,” she cooed. “Are you going to cry for mommy? It’s okay angel, you can cry. Daddy’s not gonna stop fucking you even if you are going to be a sobbing little mess.”

Natasha fucked you harder, nearly pulling all the way out before she slammed back into you again. She kept your head up, forcing you to look at Wanda even as your eyes rolled back and your vision went blurry with tears. Natasha wrapped her hand around your throat, grabbing you just under your chin. She braced her forearm against your chest, pinning you upright against her.

The position only accentuated the effect of the ridges, causing them to bump more aggressively against the spongy spot inside of you. “Aww look at how pathetic you look, crying your little eyes out while daddy fills you with her cock.” Wanda teased.

You felt Natasha’s breath hot against your ear. “Tell mommy how pathetic you are.”

You offered little more than a whine in response. Your bottom lip continued to tremble as tears rolled down your cheeks.

“Aww, sweet girl, there’s no need to be embarrassed,” Wanda assured. “It’s just me and daddy.”

You weren’t truly embarrassed, if you were being honest. You honestly felt like a masterpiece: a carefully constructed vision that Wanda and Natasha had crafted you into. But you played coy nonetheless. You had more fun when Wanda told you how pathetic you looked anyway.

“Poor thing,” Wanda taunted, “never learned how to take a proper fucking without crying.” Her eyes never left yours. Everything about watching her wife handle your helpless body drove her wild.

“I’m sorry mommy… I can’t help it… daddy’s cock feels so good inside of me,” you panted.

Natasha felt a burst of heat in her own core. Between yours and Wanda’s words she could feel herself creeping towards the edge. She just needed a bit of a different angle. She released her hold on you, causing you to fall helplessly back into the mattress. Wanda gently turned your head, preventing you from muffling yourself in the sheets.

You cursed. The combination of Wanda’s gentle hands and the new angle that hit all your most sensitive spots had you so close to an orgasm. All it would take was just a little more pressure on your clit. Unfortunately, with your hands bound behind your back, you were completely at their mercy.

“Please…” you begged mindlessly. “Please don’t stop. Fuck daddy. Please never stop.” You felt so certain that if Natasha pulled out of you right now, you’d simply die on the spot.

“You want to cum on daddy’s cock so badly don’t you?” Wanda teased. “But you can’t touch yourself. Poor baby.”

Natasha changed her pace. She could feel her own orgasm building as she felt the pull of the toy’s ridges pumping in and out of you. “Beg for mommy to let you cum, baby. I wanna hear you begging like the little slut you are.”

“Fuck!” you sobbed. The words poured out of your mouth nearly as fast as the tears poured from your eyes. “Please I’m all yours. I’m mommy and daddy’s little slut. Please, you can use me whenever you want. I’m just a little toy for mommy and daddy. Please I just need daddy’s cock inside me forever. Mommy please let me cum.”

“That’s a good girl,” Wanda praised, “begging mommy and daddy to use you like a little toy. That’s all you are right? A toy for mommy and daddy’s pleasure?”

“Yes!” you chanted. “Yes! I’m mommy and daddy’s toy. Please let me cum. Please mommy.”

“I wanna see you cum on daddy’s cock. Can you be a good girl and cum on daddy’s cock for mommy?” She asked.

Natasha curled her arm around your waist, pinching your clit and milking it between her fingers. Your eyes rolled back and your mouth opened in a silent scream as you fell apart.

Natasha continued to fuck you as you came, clenching around the strap. The pulsing put the perfect amount of pressure on her own clit, sending her into an orgasm not long after you.

She steadied herself on your hips, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to regain her composure. She pulled the ribbon, and Wanda watched in fascination as the entire thing unraveled itself. They both chuckled as your arms bonelessly flopped down beside you.

Natasha hooked her arm around your waist to prevent you from simply collapsing when she pulled out. She laid you gently on your side before climbing off the bed. She disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you with Wanda.

You whined as the toy left, suddenly feeling terribly empty. Wanda sat down on the bed next to you, chuckling again as she bent over to kiss your temple. “I know, love. It’s just devastating that daddy can’t stay inside you forever, isn’t it?”

You nodded, whining again as you felt her wipe away the remnants of your orgasm.

“You did so well for us, love,” she praised, adjusting your position on the bed so you rested against the pillows. She pulled up some blankets, smiling as you wiggled in blissful content. “Comfy, honey?”

You nodded, reaching your arms out for her.

She crawled into bed next to you, wrapping her arms around you. She kissed your forehead, earning herself a dopey, blissed out smile from you. She kissed your cheek, licking up what was left of a few salty tears. She moaned at the taste.

Natasha came out of the bathroom, freshened up in nothing but a pair or boxers. She joined you and Wanda in bed, crawling in next to you. She kissed the top of your head. “Are you girls ready for movie night?”

You nodded. “I already promised mommy she gets my movie night cuddles this time, though.”

“What the hell?” Natasha said jokingly, pulling you forcibly into her lap and berating you with kisses. “Daddy fucks you so hard you can’t think straight and mommy still get the movie night cuddles?”

You giggled, squirming out of her kiss attack. “You always fall asleep anyway!”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Because I just fucked you so hard you couldn’t think straight. You wear me out, little girl.”

“Fine, daddy cuddles until you fall asleep, and then mommy cuddles,” you compromise.

“That sounds perfect, princess,” Natasha smiled, kissing you briefly.

You looked to Wanda for her approval. She smiled. “Fine. You can cuddle with daddy for the 20 minutes she’s awake, and then you’re all mine for the rest of the night.”

You wrapped your arms around both of them, pulling them into a tight hug. “Deal.”

[kolbalissh]

what are ur top 5 carcar fics of all time?

hello anon! im very sorry for the late ass response but listing top 5 carcar fics of all time is a task i take very seriously and it is NOT so easy to rank them because i love pretty much every one i read

but there are a few that ive reread, cried over, obsessed over and pretty much think about every waking moment - i'll attach the links ofc, and i'll tag the authors to the best of my abilities because some are my mutuals and they write absolute GOLD and im literally honoured to even read their works

here goes 😁

sumi's top five carcar fics of all time as a full time carcar connoisseur ft rants about each and every one of them

this ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamn arms race by @beabnormal24

(ive read this fic probably 900 times it is the definition of PEAK comfort fic, it is written so well that not only have i cried reading this the first time i find myself coming back to it whenever i find myself down in the dumps, also one of the first fics i read during the beginning of my carcar obession)

catch me floating circles in my fishbowl by @beabnormal24

(lo and behold, the sequel of number one can you tell i love this series? or is it not obvious yet - i adore every single fic from my dear mutual and friend but man oh man, this series was the first of their writing i was introduced to and it just hit like crack)

quantum entanglement by @tiredwishes

(now this right here, altered my brain chemistry in ways i didnt even think was possible, one of the best reads that i wish i could leave a kudos to every time i reread it, the au is so perfect from start to finish one of the most enjoyable fics ive read in this fandom so far)

i made a fist and not a plan by @beabnormal24

(when i tell you this fic is the only thing that got me through that hungarian grand prix weekend trauma, i wholeheartedly mean it - its soft and the sweetest most healthiest dynamic between carcar with the right amount of 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 in it, including one of my all time fav ao3 smut tags so definitely a must read if ur like me)

he just turned in like i didn't exist by @drivestraight

(absolutely love author's work so freaking much, this was maybe the third or fourth ever carcar fic i read and this was also one that i took my sweet time with because it was just so good i didn't want it to end, and have reread multiple times because of how well its written and how much i loved the soulmate au depicted in it)

bonus! (bc why not)

take it or leave it by venerat

(this is gonna get an honorary mention solely because i remember i wanted to read this so bad i read it at my work/internship, on company wifi, during every single one of my breaks on that day - such a creative fic with its layout and concept and definitely how on brand it was for the carcar dynamic absolutely amazing)

i could have simply just listed the fics and called it a day, but you cant contain a yapper like me - thank you so much for the ask!!! <3

[just-some-random-blogger]

im sorry babes but im begging you. Can we have a pedro pascal x reader fic where she's like a vlogger/lawyer and its like a fanmade video of them on yt of them being crackheads and being all lovey-dovey. like libra x aries vibes they balance each other out sm. you don't have to really but i genuinely feel like you're the only person who can pull this off.

Talk To My Lawyer

Every time Pedro gets asked something he can't answer, he always says the same thing.

Pedro Pascal x Lawyer!Reader | 600< | cw: gender neutral!reader, fluff, crack, rpf, typos, etc.

A/N: i didnt use and pronouns for yn besides you so anyone can read! ALSO this took forever, but im glad I finally did it. I hope you enjoy this nonnie! it's not exactly like the request but its pretty funny lmao

Tagging: @sloanexx @amis-love-bugs @top1bbgloak @sunfairyy @djarinsstuff @mooniesyubi @pedropascalgirly @mmmmandoz @multifandom-fangirl4

X - (Formerly Twitter) - verse

@hotnewsoutlet: Pedro Pascal announces marriage to Civil Rights Lawyer with heartfelt Instagram post. @gigigogold1: PEDRO IS MARRIED? @linmanuzel: PEDRO IS MARRIED? (2) @HOTdigitidawg: PEDRO IS MARRIED? (3) @103840582duh: ??????????????????????????????????? QUE @pedropascaldad: TO A MOTHER FUCKING LAWYER 💀💀💀✋✋✋ @pedropascaldad: OF COURSE THE LAWYER LOOKS LIKE A SUPERMODEL TOO HAHAHAHAHHAAHAHA *jumps off a plane*

@papipascalyuh: ok but if pedro was gonna get married ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ hell yeah itd be someone who looks like THAT holy fuck

@80pascal: ?????????????????????????????????????? UR TELLING ME THIS LAYWER IS NOT ONLY HOT BUT SMART AND FUNNY TOO????? [article link attached] @biwohla: 💀💀💀💀💀 NO CUZ THE LEVEL OF UNHINGED??? FROM A LAWYER???? INFUCKINGSANE @marvelwhorebb: "... I made sure to wear the Pedro Pascal T-shirt I made when we first announced our relationship. Gotta let the people know I'm one of them and simply got lucky." @atrediessucker: T-SHIRT *I MADE* SCREAMING WHATTTTTT

@djinssdjarrinn: OK IT HURTS BUT FUCK HES SO WHIPPED [video attached]

"How are you today?" asks the interviewer.

Pedro smiles and nods, "good, how are you?"

"I'm great, now that I got to see you," she says, making the man curl his head into his shoulder and grin.

Pedro waves a hand, "oh stapit"

She grins back, "I was excited when I saw you arrive with the internet's favorite lawyer."

His expression shifts, he brightens up. He places a hand on his chest, "me too! I'm so happy to have a date today. I always end up beggin' for some time, and now I got it-" fist pump "-y'know, not that I'm complainin'."

"Yeah, I was gonna sa-"

"I like begging." *Pedro smile.*

The interviewer doesn't quite catch it, "-y, the both of you are always booked and busy. How do you find time for each other?"

Pedro thinks, but is distracted when you walk up from behind him. He looks back when you place a hand on his shoulder. Immediately, he's forgotten all about the question and dotes on you. He brushes a hand on your cheek, asking you if you're okay. You whisper something but then catch the camera. You give a bashful smile, "oh, sorry to interrupt."

The interviewer immediately waves a hand, "oh, don't worry about it."

Pedro mutters something and kisses your hand. He holds it as he looks back to the interviewer. He opens his mouth then shakes his head, "sorry, what was the question?" Pedro laughs.

The woman chuckles then moves closer to you, "you know what, I'm sure people are dying to know, what's something you newlyweds like to do together?"

Pedro instantly turns to you.

You purse your lips in thought.

"I-"

"Watching movies," you say.

"I-" Pedro starts again, looking back to the interviewer, "I don't think we can say what we like to do."

*crickets*

Pedro looks at you, expression mischievous.

You stare back at him, eyes like daggers.

He holds back a laugh and leans into the mic, turning to the camera, "I can't say it. Talk to my lawyer."

The interviewer laughs and so do you, begrudingly.

"Talk to my lawyer," Pedro repeats proudly, breaking into a wide mouthed smile.

"Ok," you mutter, "pack it up, Pascal."

@alexielover: SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP BASHING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL WHAT THE FUCK @600MILK: MF SAID TALK TO MY LAWYER 🙄✋ SOBBING @oscarisaaacsz: watch him use that for everythingggggg 😭 @pedrogrill: LORD I HAVE SEEN WHAT YOU HAVE DONE FOR OTHERS @starwazfr: *sips clorox cutely* @emeryslala: and im supposed to sha la la baby after this? FOUL @pascpedro: respectfully, id pay to be their third @probelmaskt: PACK IT UP PASCAL???????????????????

[hopingforgoodblogs]

The Fight (modern ellie x fem!reader)

hey guys! so this is my first fic! ive always loved writing and i LOVE reading tumblr fics so i thought why not? lmk below if you like it and send me requests of what you want next! this WILL have multiple parts btw ;) (PART TWO) (PART THREE)

WARNINGS: cursing, VIOLENCE, d slur, abuse (please lmk if i missed anything that might’ve needed to be put in the warnings!)

Ellie Williams. Your childhood best friend. You guys were the duo that everyone recognized in the halls. You being the soft, innocent-presenting, good girl and Ellie being the more hardcore, dominant rebel. A common but iconic duo, if you will. You guys were never seen separated. That was until today.

The night prior was very emotionally draining for the both of you (physically for Ellie). You had gotten into a serious argument. You both had gotten into disagreements and have bickered before, but not like this. 

FLASHBACK TO NIGHT PRIOR

You guys were at a party with your boyfriend. You and Ellie were already over this stupid party and since your boyfriend was wasted enough, you tried to leave. You were trying to calmly get him to stop drinking so you guys could just dip but he wasn’t having it.

“Babe, please stop drinking so much. Let’s go. It’s getting late and you’ve had enough.”

“No, I’m not done!” He slurs, his voice cracking and volume increasing.

“Oh shut the fuck up. You’re shouting is gonna burst my eardrums. If you don’t come on I’m leaving your drunk ass here,” Ellie jumped in, practically hissing her words, the annoyance and anger clear in her voice.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, bitch?” Your boyfriend snaps back, getting closer to Ellie. Her face scrunches up in disgust. His hot breath, which reeks of alcohol and beef jerky, hitting her nose.

“If you don’t back the fuck up,” She takes a deep breath, gritting her teeth, “I will beat you sober,” She retorts, purposely getting spit on his face. He jolts slightly at the contact and in disgust. 

He laughs at her remark, getting up in her face, “Yeah like I’d get beat up by a scrawny little dyke like you.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. Anyone around could feel the sudden change in the air. Your eyes go wide and you freeze in a state of panic, knowing how violent Ellie can get. This isn’t her first time publicly experiencing this. The last situation didn’t end so well. Your mind starts racing at the speed of light trying to figure out what might happen or what you should to do. Instinctively you run between them, placing your hands on Ellie's shoulders, pushing her back in an attempt to restrain her from getting close to your boyfriend. 

“What the fuck did you just call me? Say it again! Say it! I fucking dare you!” If you weren't there to control her, she would’ve blacked out and killed the guy. 

She keeps shouting at him and you remove your hands from her shoulders to cup her face, “Ellie please! He’s not worth it! Let’s just go.” She stops her shouting and looks into your watering eyes. She can not only see fear in your eyes but can feel the fear in your hands. They were trembling. Why is she trembling? She thought. Her eyes shuffled back and forth between yours and very quickly at your lips which were also quivering. 

After a beat of studying your worried expression, she responds, “Okay, fine. But I'm leaving him here.” She grabs your hand so she doesn’t lose you in the crowd of people. As you walk away, your boyfriend catches a glimpse of Ellie holding your hand and he starts to hunt toward you angrily. He grabs your shoulder tight and aggressively swings you around, slapping your face hard. You fall to the ground in embarrassment, cupping your now red-handed cheek. At that moment Ellie lost herself. Her expression darkened and she ran towards him, making him fall. She got on top of him, beating his face in. Horror and fear were written all over your face. You were sobbing, begging Ellie to stop.

"Ellie, please! Stop it! You're gonna kill him!"

"Wouldn't be such a bad thing. This dipshit doesn't deserve to fucking breathe!" She continues to hit him. She's beaten him so much that he can't even form a sentence.

You start to hyperventilate at the sight of your boyfriends face, now unrecognizable, "Ellie stop it! You've done enough!" The genuine fear in your voice finally snaps her back into reality. She stops herself and stares at him. He's struggling and gasping for air. If Ellie hadn't woken up from her rage she would've for sure killed him. She slowly stands up, wiping the blood from her hands, and reaches for yours. 

"Let's go," She softly speaks, trying to be as gentle as possible. You hesitantly grab her hand and you guys leave the party. 

TO BE CONTINUED…

[marvelobsessed134]

oh please do a part 3 of sneaking around

Where Tommy starts to catch on

Finding his daughter's clothing in Nikki's truck when him and Nikki go to town to get food

And then a few weeks later the crüe are having a concert in LA

Tommy's daughter and Nikki hook up again backstage in Nikki's dressing room

She gives him a bj for the first time and he eats her out before bending her over fucking her and just as he cums inside her

Tommy walks in the dressing room catching them. He's like WTF bro that's my daughter I'm going to kick your ass

Nikki takes off running butt naked down the hallway backstage Tommy not far behind after him 😂

Sneaking around part three: final part

Pairings: current!Nikki Sixx x fem!reader, current!Tommy Lee x fem!daughter!reader

A/n: last part of this little series. Read part one here and part two here

Warnings: brief smut, age gap, protective dad Tommy, chaotic as hell, kinda crack fic? Wholesome father-daughter moment in the end.

So far your father has not found out about the passionate love affair you have with his best friend and band mate.

Or so you thought.

Without you or Nikki knowing (obviously), Tommy found your panties in Nikki’s truck. He had starts to catch on. But he was also in a state of disbelief and decided to wait and see if the two of you were really fucking.

And then Motley had a show in LA and of course you were there. And of course you were in Nikki’s dressing room sucking him off.

“Ah fuck, such a good girl. Good little cocksucker.” He groaned as he watched you bob your head up and down along his shaft.

“Shit! Gonna cum!” The bassist hissed. And just when he sent his release down your throat your father walked in.

Your eyes widened and stood up immediately running to the corner of the room as if that was going to do anything.

“What the fuck? I knew it. I fucking knew it! I knew you were fucking my daughter behind my back!” Your dad was pissed.

Nikki tried to explain the situation as best he could but as Tommy started to walk towards him to-presumably-fight, the other older man ran out the door butt naked. Now in any other situation you’d be laughing your ass off but right now it wasn’t so funny. Tommy ran after him after pointing at you and said, “You and I are gonna talk about this later.”

You stood there, cheeks flushed from embarrassment. It was only a couple minutes before Nikki came back in the room you literally had no idea what happened.

He put his stage gear back on and walked up to you, “Don’t worry I didn’t kill him.” And you laughed a bit.

“I am so confused. What just happened?” You asked.

“I can say the same. But I think he’s calmed down now since Brittany pulled him in the dressing room to talk some sense into him.”

“I know she knew about us but she never said anything and was silently supportive. Hopefully she’ll be able to make him see our side.”

“Hopefully.”

After the show you were alone in the dressing room since Nikki was talking to the venue owners when your dad came in.

You turned around quickly with wide eyes and he put his hands up in defense.

“Hey, I’m only wanting to talk.” The drummer explained and you calmed a bit.

The two of you sat down on the couch and he let you explain what was going on. And you reminded him that you’re an adult now and can make your own decisions and that he’s a hypocrite because he’s definitely fucked some of his friends 19 year old daughters before he met your step mom.

Tommy ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “If he makes you happy then…I guess I don’t have any say in it. And if I say not to hook up with him you’re gonna do it anyway aren’t you?”

You gave a sly chuckle, “You know it dad.”

“If he hurts you let me know so I can beat his ass. Now come here.” He opened his arms up and you hugged him tightly.

“I love you Y/n.”

“I love you too dad.”

[puffcap-factory]

When Carpool Jams Gone Awry (Heartsteel Kayn x reader)

Heartsteel!Kayn x gn!reader; fluff, pure fluff, crack.

<Part 2 of "It all started with a missing guitar pick...">

After Ezreal witnessed the certain incident between you and Kayn in the past week, he decided to put matters in his own hands as a wingman and set you two on a quick car trip for just the two of you. I suggest reading the first one first for more context though, but it's completely up to you :)

Words: 2.4k

Notes: Idk why but heartsteel fics smh made me focus on the crack instead of the romance (oops). There’s 3 song references that I used for the fic btw. Oh, and I might try some spicier ones with Kayn though, he has so much potential. Anyways, enjoy the story! :D

•~•~•~•

The passenger seat became a silent observer to the awkwardness between you and Kayn as he settled into the driver's seat. You could practically feel the tension seeping into the air as you clicked on your seatbelt.

It wasn’t like this for the past few days, you thought. But why do you suddenly feel awkward now?

"So… it’s not the usual spot down the street then?" you asked, breaking the uncomfortable quietness.

"Nah, Ezreal mixed things up and ordered from somewhere else," Kayn replied with a grunt. “That prick…” he muttered under his breath, almost too quiet for you to catch. You noticed him setting the GPS of the car for about a 20-minute drive from your place.

Sensing the need to ease the tension, you reached over and turned on the radio, letting the music fill the car. You couldn't help but wonder how you had ended up in this situation.

•~•~•~•

It had been almost a week since that certain incident, yet neither you nor Kayn had mentioned anything about the guitar lesson or the fall. The week had also flown by with various schedules, leaving little time for just the two of you.

Kayn, although you knew that he had been acting like everything’s cool, couldn't hide the subtle changes in his behavior. You could tell by the way he would avoid prolonged eye contact when you talked to him, or felt his gaze when he occasionally stole quick glances at you when you weren’t looking. However, the interactions you had throughout the week with him were never personal; there weren’t many opportunities in the first place.

But tonight, it was Friday night, and the group had planned a barbecue on the rooftop of the dorm's apartment building. Everyone had pitched in to prepare, setting up grills and tables for a fun evening.

As the party kicked off and laughter filled the air, it was around 8 pm when you excused yourself to head back to your room for a bathroom break. On the stairs, you ran into Ezreal, who seemed a bit frantic.

"Hey, y/n! Perfect timing, I need your help," Ezreal said, rushing up the stairs.

"What's up, Ez?"

“So, I ordered these desserts for us,” he paused as he showed you his phone with the orders displayed. “But I accidentally selected ‘pick up’ instead of ‘delivery’! Can you come with me to grab them, pleaaase?” 

"Oh, sure, no problem," you replied casually. It seemed like a simple errand, nothing more. "I'll head to my room first, then meet you in the parking lot, okay?" you added.

“You’re the best!” Ezreal exclaimed, visibly relieved. “Take your time and I’ll be waiting downstairs then!” He headed back towards the rooftop eagerly, leaving you to make your way to your room.

You smiled at his reaction, and brushed off the thought of why he had seemed somewhat agitated for a mere errand, as you headed to the bathroom in your room.

After a moment, you finally made your way down to the basement level, ready to accompany Ezreal for the dessert pick-up. As you stepped out of the glass door of the parking lot, you spotted Kayn standing near the group’s SUV. He was looking at his phone, one hand in his pocket, seemingly to be waiting for you. He looked up as you approached, quickly pocketing his phone.

“Let’s go,” he said flatly, waiting for you to join him. 

“Wait, you’re the one who’s gonna pick up the ice cream?” You quipped as you went up to him. 

“Yeah, Ezreal claimed he had some ‘urgent tasks’ to handle,” he rolled his eyes, clearly not buying what Ezreal said. 

“Oh well…” you paused, starting to understand why he had seemed unusually excited. “Let’s go then.”

•~•~•~•

And that was how it went. It was clear to you that Ezreal had set up a sneaky scheme for you two. Although you certainly wouldn’t object to spend alone time together with Kayn, you had to admit it was a bit sudden. However, the lack of conversation was starting to bother you more than usual, somehow.

“I got to play a bit further into the song, you know?” you finally began.

“Oh? So, I assume your guitar lessons are going smoothly, hm?” Kayn asked, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he turned his head slightly towards you before facing back to the road.

“Of course,” you smiled to yourself, feeling a bit proud. “I’ve been practicing a bit before bed.”

“Show me later then,” he challenged with a smirk.

“Alright.”

Silence.

Okay, you’re not going to mention the fall, at least not yet. It seemed neither of you wanted to broach that topic. You were racking your brain for another conversation starter when a familiar song started playing in the background.

You couldn't resist vibing with the music, its lively tempo lifting the mood in the car as you started singing. Kayn was clearly enjoying the beat too, nodding along and joining you in singing. It quickly turned into a car karaoke jam.

“Bang bang into the room, I know you want it

Bang bang all over you, I’ll let you have it “

Oh. 

“Back, back seat of my car, I’ll let you have it

Wait a minute let me take you there, ah”

You pretended not to notice anything unusual and kept on singing, letting the beat carry you away. Why were you suddenly realizing the lyrics that didn’t bother you before? Kayn didn’t seem bothered either, at least not now, as he continued singing along. It was almost as if the music had created a little bubble of ease between the two of you, momentarily pushing aside any lingering tension.

The next song, however, shattered that bubble.

Kayn’s voice grew smaller and smaller as the lyrics seemed to get into his head.

“You like it wet and so do I…

…I know you never waste a drip”

You noticed his voice trailing off, but you pressed on, determined not to let the tension settle back in the air. Masking every awkwardness with your solo karaoke session, you threw yourself into the song, trying not to care about the awkward atmosphere.

Oh god, how much longer does this drive take.

You silently prayed for the next song to be less suggestive. Unfortunately, the radio playlist seemed to have other plans.

As soon as the next song played, Kayn went completely still beside you, his face straight, expressionless. The tension between you two became almost suffocating, thick in the air like a heavy fog.

“Push me up against the wall, don’t take it easy…

You like it hard like me, it’s what you need.”

You felt like jumping out of the car to escape the tension that filled the space. It was as if the song had suddenly laid bare all the unspoken tension between you and Kayn. He remained unresponsive as his gaze fixed straight ahead, and you could sense his uneasiness.

“Let’s get naked and explore our inner secrets…”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged with meaning. Why was this song playing now of all times? You struggled to maintain your composure, but the blush creeping up your cheeks betrayed your cool. It was clear that the mood had shifted, and your confidence to continue singing wavered as your voice grew smaller and smaller. 

Even though the lyrics were etched into your mind, you tried to salvage the situation by nodding along with the beat. Neither of you dared to reach for the radio to change the song, as if both of you were in denial that the lyrics had stirred something between you two. The car was becoming like a pressure cooker, the tension almost tangible between you and him. 

Summoning your courage, you stole a glance at Kayn, whose gaze remained fixed straight ahead, visibly tense. His jaw was clenched, and you couldn't help but admire the view for a moment, before realizing you had stared for too long. He caught your gaze as he glanced to the side briefly.

“What?” he finally said, breaking the silence.

“O-oh, nothing,” you stammered, quickly glancing back to the front, a blush creeping up on your cheeks. “Is the shop still far?”

“No, it’s right there,” he motioned with his head, and you could see the small light panel displaying the logo of the fast food chain store.

Kayn then parked at the open lot, and you both stepped out from the car. Finally, a breath of fresh air, the one that you desperately needed. 

“Wait here, I’ll grab it quick,” Kayn said, taking the lead.

“I think I’ll borrow the bathroom,” you said with an awkward smile. He nodded in acknowledgment as he headed into the shop counter.

You made a straight dash for the bathroom, taking a moment to collect yourself and plan how to handle the rest of the drive back with him. You were sure you wouldn’t survive that same kind of tension again.

•~•~•~•

Meanwhile, Kayn, who had taken the orders, waited in the car. He knew he had been hiding his blush during the whole ride, not expecting the tension to be that intense. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to clear his head. His mind was busy replaying the events that had led to this awkward situation.

--

“Kayn – aw, come on, I swear it’s a quick drive!” Ezreal pleaded, holding out the car keys.

“Ugh, if it’s a quick drive then why are you asking me?” Kayn groaned in response.

“Because… because…” Ezreal trailed off.

“Hey, I’ll drive. I don’t mind,” K’sante offered from the side. 

“Oh… um,” Ezreal answered reluctantly, glancing at Kayn for a bit before a playful grin appeared on his face. “Alright then, y/n will be waiting down at the carpark,” Ezreal grinned mischievously as he handed the keys to K’sante.

Before K’sante could take them, Kayn snatched the keys from Ezreal’s hands.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

--

Kayn rubbed his forehead, realizing all too well that they had set this up for him. He did want to spend more time with you, but the unexpected set of songs playing on the radio had interrupted his more peaceful set of plans. He then turned on the radio, just to check what song was playing, but immediately turned it off as he heard another set of suggestive lyrics in it. 

Nope, not again.  

He sighed in attempt to ease his own tension, feeling it did not work, he went out from the car. He took a deep breath as he contemplated on what he should do for the rest of the drive as he held his one arm on the car to support his weight, as his head now facing down to the ground.

“Damn it…” he grumbled, his face reddening the more he thought about you.

Meanwhile, you had decided to buy a cone of vanilla ice cream after making up your mind in the bathroom. You figured some sweet treat might help salvage the time.

Just for another 20 minutes, you can do it, y/n.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling, you attempted to calm yourself before heading out of the store. As you made your way to the car, you found Kayn sitting at the metal bars near the parked car, seemingly lost in thought as he faced the other way.

“Uh… sorry to keep you waiting, Kayn,” you said softly, approaching him with your ice cream in hand. Kayn glanced at you briefly but didn't fully turn, still deep in his thoughts. Sensing he wanted to say something, you took a seat next to him on the metal bars, quietly enjoying your ice cream. 

“Hey,” he finally called out, his face still turned away.

“Y- yes?” You were somewhat startled by his sudden tense demeanor, but you waited for him to continue. The sudden tension made your heart begin to beat faster.

He cursed under his breath, rubbing his face with his palm as if trying to shake off his uneasiness. Then, in a mumble, he said, “I’ll just ask this straight.”

“…Are you seeing someone?” His face still away from you, his voice tense.

“No…” you replied softly, a bit taken aback by the question.

He let out an exhale, rubbing the back of his neck as his face started to redden. “Do you… want to go out… with me?” His voice trailed off, barely audible.

Glancing at him, you noticed his face turned away, his ears tinged with pink. A smile crept onto your face.

Without hesitation, you softly placed your hand on his, which was resting on the metal bars.

He immediately turned to face you, his pinkish face now fully visible as you beamed a smile at him. Nodding happily, you conveyed your answer without words. You didn’t care anymore if your face turned as red as a tomato; seeing your reaction, Kayn's bashfulness immediately changed into a cocky smirk.

"Heh," he chuckled, his smirk widening although his blush was still present. "Looks like it’s not that hard to ask you out."

“Huh, what do you mean by that?” you teased, squeezing the hand which held his.

“Argh, your hand is all sticky!” he exclaimed, standing up and trying to shake off the melted ice cream.

“Kayn!” you laughed, feeling the tension dissipate as you both made your way towards the car door, ready to head back. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your hearts. 

You settled in the car seat when Kayn suddenly leaned closer from his seat. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, his fingers hovered near your nose.

“What?” you asked, trying to keep a straight face.

He grinned, his fingers lightly touching the ice cream stain on your nose. “You’re so sloppy,” he teased, before playfully sucking the melted ice cream off his fingers.

You couldn’t help but blush furiously, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as he chuckled. Kayn's demeanor had definitely lightened up, but the car ride back home was a relentless onslaught of teasing directed at you. With or without music, his remarks kept you on edge, and though you wouldn’t admit it, deep down you were secretly enjoying it. 

Was 20 minutes this short?

•~•~•~•

Meanwhile, back in the dorm, K’sante glanced at his wristwatch, a bemused expression on his face. "Aren’t they kinda late?" he asked, turning to Ezreal.

Ezreal simply grinned, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Let them be," he replied with a knowing smile. "They'll be back with stories, I'm sure."

[softspeirs]

These Heartbeats Clear (3): Rosie Rosenthal x OC

A/N: I just can’t stop myself from imagining what it was like after the first mission for the Riveters when they get back from the flak house. So here we are. Our friend Grace Fleming is back. This technically takes place after this fic, but you can read them separately from each other. These Heartbeats Clear Masterlist

three - don't break my heart (no promises).

He’s standing outside the officer’s hut, wondering what he’s supposed to do now. He doesn’t want to go inside.

Today’s mission went well, but it doesn’t change the mood that’s hovered over him since his forced break the week before.

He had hesitated at the hatch, that morning. His fingers drumming out a rhythm on the plane, he had shut his eyes, and had to force himself inside.

Hand on his hips, he shakes his head, frustrated with his inability to control his emotions and do his job.

That’s where she finds him.

“Captain Rosenthal?” Her voice cuts through the white noise in his head, jolts him back to the present. He shuts his eyes for a half second, making sure that when he faces her again, his smile is present and accounted for.

He is happy to see her; he doesn’t have to pretend, not really.

“Lieutenant Fleming. Heading home?”

The women’s huts aren’t anywhere near here. He knows that. Knows it means she’s gone out of her way to seek him out, and while that would normally make him grin and arch a playful eyebrow at her until she blushes in that way he’s learning he really enjoys, he can’t find it in him this evening.

She tilts her head. “No. Can’t sleep.”

“The matron’s gonna have your head.”

Can she hear it, he wonders? The way he’s fighting with his own voice not to crack, the way he’s desperately trying to have a casual conversation despite the fact that he knows why she’s here?

She rolls her eyes, takes a step closer to him. “She’s all bark, no bite. Besides, she wouldn't mind that I'm checking on you. Not after--" She stops herself.

It lands between them like an anvil, the elephant in the room they’re both trying to pretend isn’t there.

“You don’t have to check on me.” He says after a few minutes.

“I know. Still wanted to.”

His breath catches in his throat at the sincerity in her voice. Whatever this is between the two of them, he’s both terrified to let her in and fighting the urge to close the distance between them every second they spend together.

It’s just — the last two weeks have been absolute hell, and what kind of ending is he writing for her by letting this thing between them happen? If he gives in to their easy conversation, her gentle smiles and kind eyes… what sort of fate does that leave her with? Another day watching a plane not come back? How could he do that to her?

And that's assuming he's not imagining all the little moments that have stacked up since he got to Thorpe Abbotts - the softly exchanged words, the smiles and the reassurances, the way he can't take his eyes off her when she's in the same room.

“I can hear the gears turning up there.” She says softly. “Are you... are you okay, Rosie?"

He nods. "I'll be fine. It was just tough, getting back in the saddle today. But I'm fine."

“Captain—“

“And I really, really don’t want to talk about it. Please, Grace. I can’t… I have to just go to sleep, put today out of my mind, and try to figure out how the hell I’m going to do this again tomorrow.” Her name escapes him without his permission.

Her eyes widen slightly, but then the look on her face changes. It seems to say two can play this game. “Robert.” She says firmly, eyes narrowing. Something in his chest tightens at the sound of his name in her mouth. “If you keep everything inside, you’re going to break down eventually.”

He knows she’s right, but there’s a part of him itching for a fight. “You don’t understand what it’s like up there, Lieutenant.”

She flinches a little at his tone. He feels guilty for a split second, but he can’t stop himself.

“I never thought twice about doing my job until I got sent away, and I know everyone thinks it was for our own good, but that's not the way I like to do things. I don't like things being left unfinished."

Her gaze is pensive, thoughtful. "It makes sense that you're angry."

“You’re damned right I’m angry. I’m not supposed to be one of the only pilots here. We aren’t supposed to be the only original crews left. But I don't want to sit around and talk about it. If I talk about it, I won’t be able to get back in the plane the next time, and there isn’t anyone left, Grace.” He’s heaving great, shaky breaths by the time he’s finished. He can’t look at her.

“Do you feel better now?” Her voice is surprisingly calm. He expects her to get angry with him right back, or to get upset. He expects her to walk away from him, like he knows she should.

He doesn’t expect her hand, a light touch on his arm. “You’re right, Captain.” She says. “I don’t know what it’s like up there. I don’t know what you’re feeling now and I’ll never be able to fully understand. But those were my friends too, and you're not the only one trying to put before out of your mind.”

He looks up, sees a unique type of hurt in her eyes. Remembers the cackle of Bucky Egan’s laughter at a dry comment she makes to him while he sits on the edge of the table in the pub, letting her worry over a still-too-red cut above his eye.

Remembers her crouching down to ruffle Meatball’s fur, rolling her eyes at DeMarco as he brags about what a good copilot the dog is.

“And I know you have to bury some of it so you can get back in the plane,” she continues, taking a step even closer. “But just promise me that when you do need to talk, you’ll talk to someone. Even if it isn’t me. Because if you don’t, if it gets to you… you might make a mistake up there.”

He opens his mouth automatically to contradict her, but she reaches out to straighten the knot of his scarf before he can speak, continuing, “And if one day that plane doesn’t come back… well, that would well and truly break my heart, Rosie.”

His heart begins to beat again at the combination of her words, her proximity, and the feeling of her hands, her hands that save lives and are so sure and confident, lingering there on his chest.

He’s sure she can feel the rapid pounding of his heart beneath his flight suit.

“I won’t break your heart, Grace.” He says. His voice is like gravel.

He doesn’t promise. She doesn’t ask him to. They both know it’s impossible.

[nutal]

URGH NEW GUITARSPEAR (multichaptered ???) fic idea hear me out IM GONNA YAP SO MUCH also for convenience sake, Eve isn’t existing in this universe LMAO also warnings for like abuse n shit

But like it’s a human/modern au and Adam’s with Lilith, and they’ve been married for a while now. Lilith’s always been a little manipulative, but now she’s gotten subtly abusive almost, very demanding and Adam suspects she’s cheating too. One night she straight up just kicks him out of the house for that night saying he can find his own place to sleep because she’s not willing to share a bed with him nor even let him on the couch after a heated argument. He resists heavily, but only gets way too much slack for it there’s no way he can stay with that psychotic bitch admittedly.

He’s obviously really pissed the fuck off, but he ends up walking out late near the suburbs, ending at a nearby park. When he’s there, he finds Lute!! And she’s also alone, just by herself, sitting on a bench seeming really irritated/isolated herself due to her annoying ass roommate vaggie. He’s got nothing better to do so he tries talking her up a bit, and the conversation veers into smth like this:

“Shit, you seem fun. What’s your name?”

“Lute.”

“Lute? Weird name but sick as hell.”

“What are you doing here?” she snapped.

“Oh, so you’re not even gonna ask me my name back?”

She sighed. “What’s your name?”

Or like smth like that and then they explain their issues to each other, mainly adam to lute and while she’s very hesitant of him at first she is admittedly curious as well. And then eventually she’s like, “wait I think I recognize you” and then he’s like “Yeah? With a face like mine I’m hard to miss” or smth like that and she’s like “ur that guy from the band that sometimes plays at the bar I go to” and he’s like “well shit, that’s me. You should come see us more, we fucking rock” and then they just keep yapping til morning getting familiar with each other until adam like passes out, and she has to wake him up.

Back at home, Lilith’s behavior jus keeps getting worse until Adam finds out for good she actually IS cheating when she catches her in bed with Lucifer. The next time Lute shows up to the bar, she sees Adam and tries to catch him after the show, asking him how everything is and he explains what happened over a cig and lowkey? She’s pissed because she gets what it’s like to be betrayed like that then have to live with it bc of how Vaggie constantly acts. So, she ends up helping him out, even eventually offering him a place to stay in her apartment for a while after some time with lots of precautions at first until theyre more comfy with each other. Also Vaggie is so angry with this its lowkey funny and then they just give her shit for it LMAO

THEN as adam and lute spend more time together, unexpected feelings get involved and when they finally accept it, they entertain a revenge cheat thing. Like if Lilith’s gonna cheat on him? Fuck it, he’ll do it back, and then he divorces her after she finds out so she can get a taste of her own medicine. Around like a month passes and after some legal proceedings, he gets the rights to the old marital house and lets Lute hang around there sometimes, also letting her crack out on some of the property he was able to get too. And boy is it satisfying when they take advantage of that same bed Adam caught Lilith and Lucifer in one time. Revenge coming full circle.

MY BAD FOR THE HUGE YAP SESSION COULDNT HELP MYSELF obviously a lotta details might change but heres this random ass premise i stirred up at *literally* 1:00AM thanks for reading this whole shitshow if u somehow made it this far im literally gonna write this i swear i cant wait

[jessicas-pi]

DIRECTOR'S CUT ON COMMIT TO THE BIT but only like the first two chapters i am so far behind 😭

girl I wish I had been as productive as you think i've been 😭 there's only two chapters so far-

(But, hey, good news! Chapter three is verging ever closer to probably being done! And it's only taken me about... eight months... hahaha *dies on the inside*)

Anyway, i'll do what I did with the other ask and just go through it and talk about stuff!

Okay, so this fic was originally called "The Con" because it involved winning a lot more bets via subterfuge and holding hands. That changed and so I renamed it!

Oh yeah! And so, this fic was partly inspired by the song Summer Nights from Grease, where the guys and girls are enthusiastically listening to completely different stories of the same event. I flipped it around so they had completely different reactions to the same story and Sabine and Ezra were very UNenthusiastic and that was what the scenes with their friends were based on!

Aylan (the vostress kid) definitely heard some obitine stories from his dad and finds the parallels very amusing.

I know i've said it a few times before, but it always delights me to mention that the three Togruta sisters (Chisica, Am-lee, and Khenna) are based on me and my sisters.

OHHH fun fact! Originally the conversation where they split up the profits from the bet and the conversation where Sabine brought up fake-dating were two different conversations! The first one was as-is in the fic, but the other one happened like a week later when Sabine was hanging out in a tree coral with some of the girls and watching Ezra doing lightsaber forms and maybe drawing him shirtless a little bit and they hype her up to "ask him out again" and she goes over and interrupts him and they end up having the fake-dating idea conversation while he's not wearing a shirt and she's blatantly checking him out (and at one point actually half-reaches-out to touch his abs before she catches herself) and he's just "????" the whole time. It was funny, but I decided it was too early in the (fake) relationship for her to be so obvious about it, and I needed Fenn Rau to overhear the conversation and that was easier if they were on the Ghost, so I combined the scenes.

Oh also! Originally, both Vinn AND Tarik were gonna get kicked out of the friend group for being nasty but then I decided to make Tarik less nasty and give him a redemption arc.

ok, reading on, la de da...

The post-stargazing scene! So, I had to keep dialing things back because my shippy writer brain was moving their relationship ahead WAY faster than it was supposed to go. For example, in this scene, originally, they were going to share Sabine's bunk and definitely not cuddle or anything, it won't be weird at all, but again--just too soon. I made up for it with excessive cuddles in the end of the chapter & in chapter 2.

KATKA CAMEO!! Ok so for those who don't know---katka is an OC from my Teenage Rebellion AU. She's Gar Saxon's niece but she's utter sweetness (with a slight twist of crazy) and totally on board to stick it to the Empire. In the TRAU, she also has a massive raging crush on Ezra (albeit an Inquisitor iteration of him), so when I needed a random character to be envious of Sabine here, I figured I'd reuse her lol.

Oh yeah! Another condensed scene! Where she tells him about the Mandalorian ways of saying "I love you" and where she asks him to fake marry her used to be two different scenes! Like with the other one, I added the second one to the first. I went through a few versions of the fake-marriage-proposal, including one where Aylan came along with Ezra to Mandalore and was the one to suggest they tie the knot, apparently unaware it's all fake (but actually 100% aware it's all fake because his psychometry revealed it)

not to brag or anything but "Ezra did not regret fake-marrying into money" is one of my favorite lines i've ever written.

(btw, I still crack up when I remember that in your comment on chapter 1, you called Ezra a repressed victorian maiden for panicking over being able to see sabine's arms and legs. and I think everyone should know that You Are Right, Ezra Is A Repressed Victorian Maiden.)

OK ON TO CHAPTER 2!

i had so much fun with this chapter because they're both full to bursting with love for each other and neither of them will admit it until the last possible moment. I think that might actually be why Chapter 3 is taking so long--they're not hiding their feelings anymore so there's no more poetic internal monologues about how much they adore each other lol

Ah yeah on the topic of repressed feelings--the line "Kanan is fairly sure it’ll take at least five years and possibly a child for Sabine to admit that she’s actually in love with her husband" was supposed to actually be what happened. Sabine and Ezra were going to go on pretending the marriage was fake for years and finally one night when they were cuddled up, Sabine blurted out that she was in love with him and he was like "Yeah. I know." and she was like "wait what?? how did you know?? I was so subtle about my feelings!!" and he was like "Sabine, you kissed me good-night ten minutes ago. you're constantly calling me extremely romantic pet names in mando'a. we have two children and only one of them is adopted. your feelings are about as subtle as a paint bomb to the face." and she was just like "....oh." and then that was the end of the story! BUUUUT then I decided to do a love confession during the Lothal arc, and that led to the... surprise... at the end of chapter 2, which led to there needing to be a THIRD chapter!

OH HAHA OK MORE FUNNY STUFF. So the part with sabine's nightmare that leads to the "two besties chilling in a bathtub...?" scene was ALSO split up into two different events! I've been thinking about doing some edits of both chapters of CttB because I didn't really stop to edit either of them before posting (and a good chunk of chapter 2 was literally written the day before I posted it), which I mention because I was considering reverting the two scenes back to their original versions because the og tub scene was pretty funny. It's hard to describe in brief words, but basically... yeah it's too hard to describe, just take my word for it, it was pretty funny. (it involved Ezra singing along to We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together with a shampoo bottle for a microphone and Tristan playing a petty revenge prank that goes sideways.)

The cut between Ezra worrying about Sabine being upset about his feelings for her and thinking "what would she think if she knew??", and sabine's pov opening with "Sabine can't stop thinking about kissing his stupid face" never fails to make me snicker.

Oh hey I just got to the thrawn pov and that reminds me. at one point I was thinking about having a scene including Ezra and Thrawn's conversation aboard the Chimaera and thrawn REAAAALLLY pushes his buttons about Sabine, using the information that he figured out about their marriage. Actually, if I do that edit, I might write that scene.

Poor Hera--she keeps unintentionally being responsible for all of the sabezra relationship development lol.

OOH SOMETHING ELSE! So, originally, the love confession was WAY different. First of all, it wasn't in their room--it was in one of the caves. Sabine still went looking for Ezra, but she found him by following a Loth-wolf. And he actually confessed his feelings first! In this version, he was afraid he was going to die and impulsively blurted out that he loved her. Then he got nervous and started rambling a little and she shut him up with a kiss. But I changed it--I wanted her to be the one to take the leap and 'fess up, and if I set it in her room, I could have the funny Ketsu scene afterwards.

And then True Love's Kiss woke someone else up! (aka kanan got yoinked out of his comatose state by telepathic TMI)

oh yeah and to anyone wondering, that "another dawn breaks" line from the Kanera scene was ABSOLUTELY a reference to A New Dawn.

Oh and that Ketsu scene---that was actually a scene I saved and reused after cutting it from a different WIP of mine! There were two variations--the one I ended up using, and one where she accidentally interrupts the very first kiss and they're both like "OH COME ON!" because they've been waiting for this moment FOREVER and like ten seconds in, it gets interrupted, and Ezra decides that, darn it, he's been waiting for this for so long, he's not going to wait any longer! and he just pulls Sabine right back into the kiss and uses the Force to shut the door in Ketsu's face. I did this version so that I could include dialogue!

I'm just now realizing that I actually skipped over the entirety of Family Reunion and Farewell, I went straight from Jedi Night to Happy-Ever-After. But in my defense, plot-relevant episodes don't matter much when it comes to crack fix-it fics.

And... I think that's all my thoughts I have on this! Thank you for the ask!! :)

*roll end credits*

[thatbanditqueen]

No One Walks Out Ch 3

No One Walks Out On Big Daddy

Chapter 3: Don't Be Rude

Summary: It's Friday night, and Becky and her family ready their house for an end-of-summer party for Ruth's friends. Little do they know two unexpected visitors are driving down from Memphis for an impromptu visit. This chapter is pretty fluffy... let me know what you think.

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, cunnilingus, sex, cursing, drug use and alcohol, some mild weird mind games and jealousy, semi-dubious kidnapping. Most of the yiddish words are slang for dick...

Words: 17.9K please send help ... I got carried away.

You know the drill, I'm the worst with the typos! I'm sorry!!!

This chapter is part of my on going fic about 1975-era Elvis and a single mom he meets after a concert in Jackson, MS. If you haven't read it, you can here:

Catch up on Chapter One here

Catch up on Chapter Two here

Thanks to everyone who has commented, sent asks, and supported this fic. If you enjoy it, please, for the love of big daddy please like, reblog, comment, share with your maiden aunt.

Friday June 13, 1975, 4:30 p.m. The Geller House, Jackson, MS

The water balloon snapped on your finger as you tied it off, and you smiled, looking out over the sink as Saul set up two big barrels of water in the back yard for the Summer Shabbat gathering tonight at your home. Ida rubbed your shoulder as she joined you in the kitchen and began to cut up a watermelon. Her eyes narrow with a smile as she looked over at you.

“So you’re not even gonna give me a clue about the mystery man you disappeared with for two nights? My only lead is that you must have met him at the concert with Danny.”

You shake your head, stretching another water balloon around the faucet. “Ida…what can I say? that was a momentary lapse in judgement… I feel so ashamed about staying out two nights in a row with no warning—”

Ida stopped chopping to push you, clucking her tongue. “Stop, for this you feel ashamed? You should feel ashamed you don’t get out more often. You have a built in babysitter. Me! I told you that night…. I told you, you’d meet someone at that concert… he can’t have been so bad, if he wanted to see you again the next day? Takes a good man not to make a girl wait by the phone sweating for days before a second date… is it one of Danny’s co-workers?”

“Definitely not.” You chuckle. “And, well, once he knew I had a kid … he was pretty turned off. So it’s a non-starter.” It was a non-starter before it started, for that and oh so many reasons you thought to yourself.

Ida looked at your expectantly, smirking. You blush, a grin followed. “Ok, Rebecca… at least tell me you got some petzl?”

“Oy, girlie, well at least you looked like you had some fun, especially that first morning …you had a big grin plastered on your face.”

“Ida!” You slapped your aunt’s shoulder.

“What, you don’t think I appreciate making whoopee? My generation invented it. Tell me, did he have a big schlong?”

“Ida…”

“So a tootsie roll?” She held up her pinky. “You know Hashem blessed me, let me just say he gave your uncle a big schmeckel.” Ida winked at you.

You shook your head, then turned, looking at her with a smirk as you made an eyeball measurement with your hands. “Like a big, fat swollen kishke… the biggest I’ve ever seen…I…” you both start cracking up… “can’t believe I just told you that…”

Ida chuckled. “Oy gavolt, girlchick, no wonder you went back for more. I’m surprised you ever came home….”

You tilted your head back, giggling uncontrollably and blushing a beet red, Ida chortled even more at your embarrassment.

She patted your back. “So, you had some fun. It’s healthy. You’ll meet someone, I know it, maybe not this Mr. Kishke….. but there are other good men out there. I promise. We should get Harriet to take you out to that go-go club she likes…”

You laugh, filling another balloon. “Ida, I’m not going to troll the disco looking for men…. If it’s meant to happen. I’ll meet someone and it will just…” you snap your fingers. “Click.”

Your aunt nodded. “Do you ever regret, you know, not marrying Teddy?”

You scowl slightly, thinking of Ruth’s father back in Birmingham. The last time you saw him, you were picking Ruth up at Pesach and stayed the night in his guest room. Everyone else in the house was asleep, Ruth, Teddy’s beautiful blonde wife, Jean, and you had thought he was too. But no, he’d cornered you in the garage as you grabbed a beer from the second fridge, pressing himself up against you, pushing you into the garage work counter, whispering “c’mon, for old time’s sake, you know you want to…” into your ear, pulling up your dress as you told him no, and pushed back on him. You had to knee him in the balls to get the message into his head that you weren’t interested in sweaty, shitty casual sex with your ex while your daughter and his wife slept upstairs.

He was drunk, you told yourself, but you still hated him, how cheap he made you feel. The next morning, after he hugged Ruth goodbye and held Jean while waving you off, you swore that you would never be alone with him again. Next time, you would get a motel room. Teddy had always been a duplicitous toad, it just took you a few months and an unexpected pregnancy to realize it. Unbeknownst to you at the time, he’d had a girlfriend back in Tuscaloosa the summer you got pregnant. You hadn’t developed your smarm detector back then, and you had been charmed by his swept aside dirty blonde hair, his college boy humor, his tan body, and most of all, his overt, romantic attention to you in front of everyone at the summer camp where you’d both been counselors. You had been utterly convinced it was true love. Boy, boy oh boy, were you wrong.

“No, Ida, not for a second, I dodged a bullet with that one. Thank God I trusted my gut.” You snapped another water balloon tight with determined finality. “And luckily Ruthie is nothing like him.”

“Well, my pretty girl, you deserve to meet a nice man, who will see you for all you have to offer. You know if you ever want me to——”

“——I know, you have the whole yenta network standing by to set me up with all the eligible single men in Jackson… OK …look, we only have an hour until the other kids get here, I still need to make potato salad, and,” you yelled to the other room where your uncle had plopped down to watch TV. “Saulie needs to get the grill set up.” Pulling down your yellow tee-shirt over your belly, you make a mental note to go change and put on a bra before people arrive.

————————————————

Elvis looked into his rearview mirror, adjusting his sunglasses one last time, then sighing. He wiped the tops of his fringed, rainbow jacket, and straightened his white collar, pulling it up and out over the top of the coat.

“Maybe shoulda called first?” He asked Jerry. He’s friend turned his gaze from the split-level house out the car window, over to Elvis. There were several phone calls Jerry would have liked to make when Elvis had grabbed him by the shoulders five hours ago in the Graceland foyer and spontaneously informed him they were going for a ‘lil ride.’ At first, Jerry attributed Elvis’ insistence they go retrieve some jewelry he’d left in Jackson right away to dexedrine-fueled paranoia. He had dealt with this before, and once he realized Elvis would not be deterred, he went along to ensure his safety. Vernon, Joe, Linda, Sonny, and Priscilla, who was sending Lisa Marie to Memphis on Monday with Dick, these were the other phone calls Jerry had wanted to stop and make as the yellow Caddy flew down I-55 toward Mississippi.

“You work for my daddy or for me, Milk? Quit yer caterwauling, now, c’mon … was a time when you weren’t scared of the open road. Now Myrna’s gotcha all pussy whipped.. man, yer worse than a teenage girl with a curfew. We’ll be there in a few hours, ya ken make as many calls as you want once we get my rings back.” Elvis had snarled at him impatiently, so Jerry coolly smoked the cigarillo handed to him and watched the lush green overgrowth of Mississippi pass them by.

Indeed, Jerry had probably spent more time getting to know Diana, Sheila and Mindi than Elvis had, shuttling them to and from concert gigs in-between and sometimes overlapping with each other or with Linda. In Elvis’ life, women were generally pointed at in the audience, or at a party or on TV and delivered by plane, train, car or bus. Sometimes he met them at a party or event, and would invite them to spend a day, a week, a month even with him. With women, Elvis could be impulsively, spontaneously, and haphazardly interested. How many times had he chartered plane to bring a girl to his house or concert with only a few hours notice? But Jerry had never seen Elvis drive himself to someone’s house, and sit in the car anxiously combing his hair to subdue his nervous energy before trotting up to ring a doorbell.

It was only after he came back out to the car to inform El that there were definitely no forgotten rings or any other jewelry at the hotel that Jerry began to suspect the real reason for their impromptu visit to Jackson. Jerry sat back down in the car, detailing the thorough, hour-long search he had just completed with the hotel security team and the manager as they graciously allowed him to inspect Elvis’ suite, then the separate room they had stored his costumes in, and then all the rooms the other Memphis Mafia members had stayed in. Elvis nodded his head thoughtfully.

“Well, fuck. Ain’t them the breaks, Jack…” Elvis hit the steering wheel a little too emphatically. “Man, fucking loved that star ring. Shit……well, since we’re here, though, might as well drop by and see that lil girl from the other day, right?”

And before he knew it, Jerry was strolling back into the Belhaven Hotel to get a local telephone book and reserve their previous suites for the weekend. He had watched Elvis’ anxiety increase over the ten minutes it took for the Caddy to wind its way through the Belhaven neighborhood to the Geller residence over in the Fondren. Elvis lurched forward in his car seat gripping the steering wheel, shoulders pinched up as he ran his hand through his hair, tapping his fingers on the gear shift, changing the radio station three or four times. And now, as they sat in the car outside of Becky’s house, Jerry couldn’t figure out why, for the life of him, El wasn’t having him go up to the house and bring out the girl for him. In fact, he wasn’t sure why Elvis hadn’t just sent him or one of the other guys down to Jackson to fetch her back to Graceland, as they had all done countless times with the other women Elvis dated.

Elvis’ was nervous for this very reason. He hadn’t called on anyone cold like this in years. Maybe decades. He had considered sending Jerry to get Becky and bring her to him, he’d been thinking about it since she ran out on him three days ago. But, well, frankly, he was afraid she wouldn’t have come and his pride couldn’t stomach a second-hand rejection. In these sort of situations, Elvis’ governing principle was to move on, dose up and forget anyone or anything that made him question whether he was undesirable, old, a fake, a sellout, a has-been, a selfish person or an unlovable egomaniac. But something had happened when he was with Becky, maybe it was the thrill of the chase, or the way being with her just felt effortless. Maybe it had been the sex, just the fact of it, let alone how good it had felt - he hadn’t felt so confident and turned on since who knows when. Maybe it was the sleeping, oh the sleep, holding her through the night, he’d had the best rest in years. Then there was his suspicion that God had brought her to him as some sort of angelic tribute, a reward for all the pain and shit he’d been through since, well, since forever. The last night together, as Becky sat in his lap playing guitar and teaching him Hebrew psalms, Elvis had begun to notice light radiating around her head, like a golden, ethereal halo, and he couldn’t shake the desire to feel the glow of her energy on his skin again. He kept this belief to himself as he looked at Jerry.

Then there was the less than spiritual image of Becky’s big, brown, earnest eyes looking up at him with unabashed, raw desire when she had sucked his cock. He smiled to himself thinking of it. Elvis had found this image coming back too him all week, to the extent that he often found he’d completely tuned out of the conversations happened around Graceland. He would hear the giggle in Becky’s mouth as she laughed at herself and her clumsy mechanics during sex. She was not experienced in the art of fellatio, he could tell she didn’t do it often, but her sweet, eager genuine enthusiasm was more exciting to him than a blow job from the most seasoned whore. The way she didn’t take herself too seriously put Elvis at ease, and he felt like a young man again, enjoying the awkward mumblings of getting to know another person. Naked.

Elvis longed to teach Becky what he liked, mold her mouth to him, fuck her sweetly and then ride her raw, tending to her swollen lips with his own as he bent her wild spirit to his will and absorbed the golden light from her smile into his being. He smiled to himself again, thinking of how she’d probably have a few feisty remarks when she opened the door, wondering how many soft caresses on her round hips it would take to melt her and get her to come back his hotel room with him. Then he remembered how she left, angry, hurt, totally misconstruing his generosity.

“Must have some sort of death wish for difficult woman…. huh… s’ a test, is what it is, He is testing me… see if I can perservere…” Elvis muttered to himself, then looked over at Jerry, who had no clue what Elvis was talking about. “Jerry, how many people have I given gifts to… ya know… money, jewelry, cars, fur coats…?”

“Tons, EP, all the time.”

Elvis nodded, reassuring himself. “And has anyone, ever, been insulted and thrown it back in ma face?”

Jerry’s expression dropped as he started to piece together why they were really here. In Jackson. Three hours from home. Five for them, because before they could come do what Elvis had really wanted to do, Jerry had been forced to go through the whole charade with the hotel and the jewelry, because Elvis couldn’t admit he was hung up on a girl. Who may or may not have rejected him. Oh shit, he thought, how did he manage to find the one women not interested in free money? Of course. Of course that is why we’re here. He cannot bear to think there is someone out there who hates him. Scratch that. Someone he is attracted to who hates him. Jerry swallowed his misgivings about the unpredictable and unprecedented scenario about to unfold.

“Nope, boss. Not one that I’ver seen. But you know how women can be on the road…it’s always the first thing in the morning, the fun is over, suddenly they're sensitive and hurt and could feel used… girls always get a little emotional, even if they knew what time it was going wit ya the night before… She was probably just insecure.”

Elvis nodded in agreement. “Yeah, an this one, she’s skittish, completely oblivious to how cute she is, ya know Jerrah?”

Jerry grinned.”Yup, oh man, I almost like ‘em better that way, good and oblivious…"

“…an all mine….” Elvis added. “Yeah, know whatcha mean…. Alright, how’d I look?”

“Sharp. Cool. You look good EP.” Jerry squeezed Elvis’ shoulder. “That lil girl is gonna cream her pants when she sees you.” Jerry hoped, rather than believed, this statement.

Elvis nodded. “Right, ok, hang tight here, and I’ll go get her. Plan is dinner, up in the suite, alone. You got the rooms set up?”

Jerry nodded. Elvis snapped his fingers, and got out of the car, smiling to himself as he walked up the path to your house, picturing your big brown eyes, overjoyed to see him, apologizing for being so rude when he tried to give you that money, your mouth in a shocked smile as you opened the door. To his dismay, your uncle Saul opened the door, wearing a “Kiss the Chef” apron and looking impatient.

“Oh good, you’re finally here, the natives are getting restless, they’re all in the back.” The 65-year old balding Jewish man started to pull Elvis in. “But where’s the ice cream cake, Cheryl said you were stopping at Dairy Cream? And whose in your car?”

Elvis stuttered, looking at Saul with his mouth agape, then back at the car, and adjusted his glasses.

“Um, that’s my employee - uh, oh, I think you might -“

Saul interrupted him. “Oy, well, don’t make him sit out there in this weather, my balls are boiling and I’ve only been standing out here for what, a minute? He’s welcome to come, we have plenty of hot dogs, though no ice cream cake - I’ll let your wife chew you out for that. Come in, come in.”

Elvis called out to Jerry, and let Saul usher them into the house, following him as he led them to the kitchen and began handing the two men trays of watermelon and hot dog buns, trying unsuccessfully to get a word in edgewise while Saul talked at them.

“Ok, ok, the ladies have the punch all set up, so this is the last to go out. The kids have been running around all meshuga for an hour, I think they’ll sleep well tonight.” Saul chuckled, winking as he gave Elvis and Jerry a knowing look.

The men exchanged their own raised eye brows, and followed Saul through a sliding glass door into the back yard, continuing on with all the minute details of the afternoon, everything he’d done to set up, the games they’d been playing and how hard to had been to get the grill going and on and on. Elvis and Jerry found themselves in a group of ten or so mothers standing around, watching a hoard of kids in swim suits chase each other around with water guns and balloons out on the grass.

Elvis started to explain to Saul again that there must be some misunderstanding as he placed the tray of hot dog buns down, but then his attention was completely transfixed by the sight of you running backwards with the kids, egging them on as they pelted you with water balloons while you squirted them with a gun. A grin spread over his face as he watched your long curly hair sway back and forth, your cheeks flushed, bosom bobbing up and down completely unconstrained by a bra, and a look of pure glee on your face as you yelled, “Ha ha, can’t catch me!” You turned to look at the group on the patio and did a double take when you locked eyes with Elvis, not noticing the slippery pool of mud you were running into and tripping backwards as you cried out a “fucking cocksucker!” A swarm of nine year olds overtook you and pelted you with water from a mix of balloons and spray guns, laughing and calling out variations of “Becky said a baaaad word….you’re gonna be too in trouble.” Ruth’s laughter was the loudest, and she ran up and squirted you in the face, then turned to run over to her friends, giggling as you lay there in the grass and mud, groaning, eyes shut, hoping the earth would swallow you whole.

You heard heavy boots thudding toward you slowly, and you groaned again as you watched Elvis’ tall, thick silhouette block out the sky above you. His hair was a bushy circle around his face, and for some reason he was wearing the most ridiculous fringed, rainbow suede jacket in 95 degree June weather. A smirk crested above his round jaw, the paunch of his belly jutted out over his belt, and you could make the ornate American eagle buckle at his waist as he bent down towards you. He was unable to stop himself from flicking one of the hard nipples that protruded through your wet tee-shirt as he muttered, in a low voice.

“They gotcha there, huh Twitch? Gotcha good.”

Elvis extended his hand to help you, the mud squelching beneath you as you let him pull you off the grass, scowling and groaning inwardly as you looked over at the audience composed of every single student of Ruth’s 4th grade Hebrew class, most of their mothers and some of their fathers. Ida was a few steps behind Elvis, a confused expression on her face as she called the kids to come dry off and get ready to eat, then padded over to where you and Elvis stood. His blue eyes danced with mirth as you pulled your shirt down, only to notice that this just made your nipples and areolas even more visible and you gave up, letting the wet yellow cloth cling to your body.

You heard Natalia’s light Russian accent asking someone else on the patio if that was Elvis Presley talking to Becky, at the same time your uncle was asking Jerry if he liked being an accountant in Lew’s firm. You wondered if you had fallen and hit your hard too hard and were having some sort of out-of-body experience, as you rubbed the muddy spot on the back of your hair and speechlessly stared at Elvis.

“What are you doing here?” You managed to squeak out, covering you breasts with your left arm.

Elvis opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by your aunt’s hand on his shoulder, as she was introduced herself and you watched Elvis respond, telling her “Hi, I’m Elvis Presley,” as if he were just a random, unknown stranger, to which Ida responded by immediately blushing and cooed “Oh my, so you are! What a gentleman running out here to help Rebecca up….Becky, where are your manners? Did you thank Mr. Presley?”

“Elvis - please ma’am…”

“Oh, wow, sure, well thank Mr. Elvis… I …my… I mean I…. Elvis I’m so glad you came to our house, you are so welcome, you know, Danny is actually still at the radio station… Becky, dear, why don’t you go change —- maybe you were supposed to meet him there? But it doesn’t matter, let me get you a drink.” Ida’s small frame handily guided Elvis towards the punch as she paused to yell at some of the women’ whispering on the patio.

“My son is a radio DJ, Marjorie, so of course important artistes are always stopping by, so you can quit your jabbering and come say hello if you want…..”

She then returned her attention to Elvis, who was politely waiting for a chance to talk as he looked back over his shoulder at you.

“You see, I didn’t realize you were coming, who tells their mother anything these days? But of course, it’s the last day of summer and we always throw a fun Summer Shabbat party for the families in our niece’s daughter’s Hebrew class, what with the water games and the hot dogs and the ice cream… here, please have some punch, and I’ll go call Danny,” she continued, leaving Elvis at the punch bowl as some of the mother’s began to circle around him and introduce themselves.

You laughed and shook your head, glaring at Elvis, before walking towards the living room sliding door. You could hear Saul’s voice rise above some of the others talking. “Elvis? No, that’s Cheryl’s husband Lew, isn’t it? What? …. well that explains why he didn’t have the ice cream cake.” As you walked through the living room towards the back of your house, you saw Lew let himself into the house, carrying a Dairy Queen cake.

————————————————

After taking the quickest shower in the history of showers, you dried your hair and stood in your closet agonizing over what to wear. You could not suppress the giddy, heated excitement you feel in your chest, even as you tell yourself what a bastard Elvis had been. Don’t look to excited to see him, do not get dressed up. But then there you are, smiling and woozily trying to decide if you liked the lacy, beige underwear you were wearing.

Throwing back your head, you swore at the ceiling. “FUCK! Fuck fuck fuck.” Then you saw it, at the back of your closet, the red kimono mini-dress your best friend Cherie had bought you for your birthday last year. You couldn’t wear a bra with it, the v-neck was too deep. You had laughed, vowing that you could never wear it because of how low it was. In the throes of desperation you settled on this choice, twirling in the mirror, the feel of the silky fabric was soft and exciting. You shiver, then put on a pair of birks and some simple make-up, just a little flourish. Mascara, neutral eye shadow and lip gloss. Taking a deep breath, and a roll on of the only perfume-like item you currently own, a lavender oil mix, you will yourself to walk out to the back yard and join the party.

Walking down the hallway from the bedrooms, you realize people have migrated inside and are milling about the living room as well as the patio. You bump into Jerry, and you grab his arm while you survey the rest of the party. Most of the kids are outside, but Ruth catches your eye and leaves her friends to run inside. Elvis is across the living room, toward the dining table, cornered by three Hebrew school moms.

“What the fuck, Jerry?”

Jerry looks you up-and-down and says “Wow,” then startles away from your at the sound of a loud cough, and he look towards Elvis, whose sunglasses have turned in your direction. Jerry gives you a deer-in-headlights expression, as he starts to mumble something about how they were in town for important business, and how he’s sorry, he didn’t know you had a kid and family or that they’d be crashing a party. You nod, listening, as you watch your cousin Danny run in, his long brown hair swaying behind him as he makes a beeline to his mother, who is drinking some punch that may or may not be spiked and laughing as she talks with some of the other bubbies from shul who may or may not have grandchildren at this party. You watch Danny whisper something to Ida as she starts to try and bring him over to Elvis. Elvis. Elvis. Who, at the same time, has excused himself from the group of blushing giddy moms and is moving in the opposite direction towards you.

You cannot look away as he stalks over, his eyes move up and down your frame as a grin spreads across his mouth and he shakes his head. Elvis joins you, slapping Jerry’s shoulder while he orders his friend to go get everyone punch, his gaze never leaving your body. Indeed, his eyes settle on your bust and get stuck there, admiring the work your dress is doing to defy gravity and physics and stay bound by the drawstring at the waist of the mini-dress. The silk fabric of the long, bell sleeves feels light and indulgent as you bring your hand up to run your fingers through your hair. Elvis smacks his lips, and exhales, and you cannot take his intense, indecent glare any longer, you feel as though your ribcage is going to jump out of your chest, or you might combust from the bonfire brewing in your belly, so you narrow your eyes and clear your throat.

“Mr. Presley.” You jut out your chin and cross your arms.

Elvis’ lips spread into a devilish grin. “My daddy’s Mr. Presley, honey, you can call me baby.” He learns forward and whispers in your ear. “I mean, after all, we have seen each other ——“

You try to hold a scowl, fighting the tremor you feel between your legs and the blush forming on your cheeks as his eyes move over you, reminding you he knows exactly what you look like under that red dress. Before he finishes saying the word naked, however, you hear Ida’s unmistakable loud gasp and look over to see that she Danny are still conferring,

“Wait… Elvis IS Mr. Kishke?” Ida’s mouth is agape, and her voice carries through the crowd as she looks over at you, seeming to take in your proximity to Elvis in a new realization.

You are not blushing, no, rather, your entire chest and face have become the same deep red color of your dress and you reflexively cover your face with your hands as you see some of the other adults snort or gulp, and shake their head as they look at you and chuckle.

Elvis leans towards you, a bewildered smile settling on his lips as he looks around the room. “What’s a KISH kah?”

“It’s a big, fat yucky sausage.” You hear Ruth’s voice and lower your hands to see her standing near you both, smiling, completely unaware of the innuendo.

A deep laugh belts out of Elvis’ belly, following by more gasps and whispers and laughs around the room, all eyes are now on you, and you bend your face further into your hands, shaking your head, wondering what you did to deserve this level of public humiliation. Meanwhile Ida’s hand goes to her face as she realizes that all the adults probably have some sense that what this exchange means. She mouths “Sorry bubela,” and then nervously walks over to a group of people asking if anyone needs another drink trying to change the conversation, yet distractedly looking back over in your direction. Danny shirks his shoulders and turns to get some grub.

Ruth’s voice pipes up again, at your elbow. “Why are you turning so red Mama?”

You try to shake off the intense feelings of shame coursing through your entire being, laugh, and give her a hug, pulling her into your side for a moment. “Oh, no reason, baby, Aunt Ida’s just so loud, isn’t she? Makes me a little self conscious.”

Ruth nods her head, then looks up at Elvis, motionless beside you, his eyes sparkling.

“Are you really Elvis Presley?” She asks, as her arm winds around you and her head leans into your bare leg. Elvis bends down in front of her, pushing up his glasses. “Nah, I’m Elton John, people make that mistake all the time though.” His lips part to reveal his gleaming white teeth as he beams, watching Ruth giggle.

“No you’re not. You’re Elvis. I’ve seen you on TV.”

“Oh? You mama let’s you watch that junk on TV?”

Ruth nods, her grip on your leg loosens a but. “Oh, yeah, well she’s probably your biggest—” you put your hand over Ruth’s mouth as you realize what she’s about to say, but it’s too late, Elvis, still on his haunches at Ruth’s eye level, looks up at you and winks, a self-satisfied smirk and a gleam in his eyes.

“Huh…” is all he says. “Well, I’m a pretty big fan of your mama’s.”

You give him the look of death. “Hey now, baby, what do you say—“

Ruth interrupts you, looking at Elvis. “Why would you want to be Mr. Kishke? Is it like being Mr. Clean, from the TV ads?”

He laughs again, “Well, not exactly…”

You pull Ruth’s arm from around your leg, and tell her to go get some food. Elvis stands, steps closer to you.

“Hey… Mr. Kishke, huh?”

You look down, shaking your head, crossing your arms under your breasts, which has the effect of pushing them out a little more in the v-neck. “Stop.”

“What? Think you’d be happier ta see me.”

“Why’s that? If anything, I’m shocked you think I’d want to see you at all. I’m actually at a loss as to why you’re even here?”

Elvis’ index finger traces the edge of your v-neck. “That why you went and got all gussied up? To show me how much you don’t wanna see me?”

You swat his hand away and snort. “We’re having guests over for Shabbat, this is the outfit I planned out this morning, to change into after the water fight…. You must be one of those folks who drive by every beautifully landscaped house thinking, ‘oh, they must be expecting me.’ I wanted to look nice just for me, has nothing to do with you.”

Elvis leans in to whisper in your ear, and you cannot help the gasp that escapes your lips as you feel his warm breath on your neck, and his hand on your waist. “Sure honey… but you should know for next time that I like bright red lipstick, as flashy as I can get it ….woulda suited ya better.”

You step back, thrown off and befuddled and trying to think of a smart retort, but you’re interrupted by a clutch of other moms who join you, and Elvis steps aside to make room, breaking your gaze and your train of thought. You smile at them, flustered and suddenly embarrassed by Elvis’ presence and what these other, happily married, women must be thinking.

“Becky,” Patty says in a high, fake voice, slipping her hand through your arm as if you were the best of friends. Your have spoken maybe three words to this woman. She turns to look at Elvis. “Wontcha introduce us to yer friend?”

The others, Margie and Linda, giggle and bat their eyes at Elvis, who cocks his chin forward and rests his left hand at his hips, extending his right hand to bring each women’s hand to his mouth, introducing himself by his full name to each one, “Why, howdy, miss, I’m Elvis Presley,” as he kisses their hands. His affect is more akin to a stranger at the debutante’s ball, rather than the most famous man in the world crashing your annual Summer Shabbat night.

Inhaling and plastering a placid smile on your face, you spend the next fifteen minutes nodding awkwardly as you get pushed to the back of the crowd that gravitates around Elvis, and you are stuck on the outskirts watching Elvis make small talk with these parents who gather around him, as Summer Shabbat slowly became Elvis Shabbat. Ida brings him a plate of food, inviting him to sit on the couch, and it did not take her much to coax him into telling the group about his recent fundraiser concerts in Jackson for victims of the recent tornado, explaining vaguely how he had come back to finish up some important business for the benefit, and figured he might as well stop by his friend Becky’s house. The way he emphasized the word friend and winked at you as he said it made you want to push through the group and strangle him there and then.

But you smile, clenching your fists as your nails form little half moons on the inside of your palm. His explanation that at first he’d thought you were just another groupie trying to crash the after party, before he realized you were there with your brother (your cousin you mentally corrected him), made you blush and grin even wider with a forced chuckle, as he said how you’d impressed him as the most charming and welcoming person he’d ever met in Jackson. You were going to show him how charming you really were when you kicked his ass out of your house as soon as everyone left.

————————————————

The kids, in an assorted stages of dressed from still damp and in swim trunks to dried off and dressed, began to loose their steam. The giggly running back and forth through the house began to slow, and families began to say good night and make their exit, taking turns as they waited to shake Elvis’ hand and telling him what big fans they were. Now Elvis was standing by the door, saying good night to people with Ida as if he were the co-host as they left. Watching from the kitchen, your mouth full of potato salad, you rolled your eyes as Lew told Elvis how much his music meant to him, tears welling in his eyes, his arm squeezing his wife, and then sighing out with pride as Elvis brought him in for a bear hug and then drew Cheryl in for a long kiss on the lips.

“Ughhh,” you moaned, and went to grab a second beer from the fridge and slipped into the pantry closet to drink it alone. Jolting when the door opened, you whisper “thank god its just you,” to Danny, who reveals a wildly grinning Harriet next to him. You finish your beer, and push past her to grab another.

“So, is Elvis your boyfriend now Becky?” Danny teased, Harriet making “ooowwww” and kissy noises behind you.

Looking through the door, you turn and you relax knowing Ruth is far away in the living room, sitting on your Uncle Saul’s lap helping him with a word search. You saw Jerry emerge from the hallway from the back of the house, where he had spent the last hour or so on the phone. He caught your eye, then looked away, he had obviously been avoiding you since you first tried to confront him, and looked guilty every time he saw your imploring expression. He must have known you had wanted to corner him and ask him what the fuck was going on, and why Elvis would show up at your doorstep, basically announcing to your family that you had slept together. You were grateful that subtext seemed to have gone over the kids' heads, at least so far. But the knowing look from their parents told you it was obvious they knew you were a big ol’ slut who slept with rockstars, and gave said rockstars the impression thought they could just show up at your house unexpectedly for sex anytime they were in town.

Jerry plopped down next to Saul, and it only took one question, “So, are you from Jackson,” before Jerry got drawn into your uncle’s history lecture on the Geller family in Jackson, Jews in the Mississippi, his children’s accomplishments, his opinions on Nixon and Watergate, all interspersed with pauses to give Ruth clues on what word to look for next, before adding in a few old jokes.

“Have you heard the one about the farmer in Minsk?” You hear Saul ask Jerry, his eyes glance over to you in the kitchen doorway and he gives you a sympathetic eyebrow raise. Ida is walking through the living room picking up dishes and muttering to herself. You turn back to Harriet and Danny, who is grabbing his own beer bottle and handing one to his sister, his face glinting with mischief.

“Shut up, Danny!” You order in a hushed growl. “He just fucking showed up, the last time I saw him, I slapped him in the face and stormed off. I never thought I’d see him.”

Harriet brushed her hair back, and took a slip of her beer. “Maybe he’s into that.”

You were about to respond, but notice Natalia, the last mom left, has cornered Elvis at the door. Her youngest daughter, Anna, is fidgeting back and forth next to her. Emboldened by the alcohol, you drain your drink, put the bottle down, and march over to get her out the door so you can dispose of Elvis without an audience. As you walk up, you hear Natalia’s Russian accent speaking to Elvis in a conspiratorial whisper.

“You know, if you are looking for company here in Jackson, I have an 18 year old daughter, Genevieve, just graduated high school. I mean, Becky is sweet, but she’s almost thirty and —— ”

She stops when she feels your hand on her shoulder.

“SO good to see you Natalia,” you give her a tight hug. “Thanks for coming to Summer Shabbat…. It’s so fun to kick off the summer with y’all… only two more days until camp. Ruthie, baby, come say goodbye to our friends.”

You see Elvis pursing his lips in an amused grin, as he leans past you and tells Natalia “Goodnight honey, get the feeling I’d really like it in Leningrad,” holding that kiss with her for one, two three, four five oh give me a break seconds, while you aggressively open the door.

Elvis chuckles as he watches you shut it tightly, then roll into it, looking at him sideways, your hand ruffling Ruth’s head. “Hey baby, go help Ida clean up, hmmm?”

She looks to you, then at Elvis, then back again, smiling as he winks at her, running to your aunt with a gleeful laugh and a skip. You hear her telling Ida how she can’t believe Elvis Presley is at their house. You lean back against the door, cross your arms, and look around the living room. Saul and Jerry are still deep in a one-sided conversation. You watch your cousins slip outside. Buzzed from the beer, your earlier athletic accomplishments water fighting with the kids, and, if you are honest, Elvis’ proximity, you feel a heightened sense of your own sensuality. Your skin feels alive as you smooth down the thin, silky dress you’re wearing and turn your gaze over at Elvis, leaning against the wall and staring at you with dark eyes through his sunglasses. His lips slightly parted, as if in anticipation.

“Elvis, why are you here?”

He swallows. “I was in town for business.”

You shift, recrossing your arms as you roll your shoulder against the back of the door and turn toward him.

“Mmmhmmm.” You purse your lips, you hate how his knowing smirk makes your core tingle. “But why are you here?” You point at the orange shag carpet below your feet.

“Wanted ta see ya….”

“Did you even wonder if I wanted to see you?”

Elvis inhaled, and looked down, shaking his head.

“Why you always make everythin’ so goddamn difficult? I’m here, you’re home, I can tell you’re happy to see me—”

“Oh, so you can read my mind?”

“Mhmmm” He pouts his lip, raising just his left eyebrow.

“Mmhmm, and what am I thinking?”

Elvis speaks in high falsetto, “Gosh I just wanna kiss that handsome man but I’m embarrassed to in front of all these people?” He laughs at the incredulous expression that spreads over your face, and moves to kiss you. You meet his mouth with your right hand.

“Ha! You are delusional.”

Elvis’ hand moves to rub your shoulder instead. “Am I?”

“Yes.”

You lift your eyebrows, and then push off the door, gathering up some of the glasses on the coffee table. You look back at him, and motion for him to follow you into the kitchen, where you’ll be alone.

“Grab those other glasses and make yourself useful, unless you’ve forgot how to do normal people shit like cleaning up. Clearly forgot how to call people.”

Elvis slaps your bottom with a loud thwap as you load the dishwasher, catching some of your bare butt under your dress. You can sense his wry smirk before you see it, sucking air in through your teeth and slamming the dishwasher shut, then turning to him.

You hit his chest, with a “Not cool, Presley…” and he responds by stepping closer and boxing you in against the kitchen counter. You breath deeply, your cunt clenches involuntarily as you feel a bolt of electricity thrill up your spine.

“So you’re not happy to see me?” There is that lip curl again. Hands on your waist, he shifts his weight forward, you shiver as he crushes you into the counter. “Huh, well, you must really hate me then, if ya spent the week talkin bout lil’ Elvis.” He waggles his eyebrows again.

You blush, “I… umm … I think—”

“Mr. Kishke, though, that’s one I haven’t heard.” He looks down into your bosom, running his right hand along the side of your waist. “You know… I don't show him to every girl I meet?

You roll your eyes. “Ha. Lucky me…” even through the sarcasm, though, you can a feel a flush coming to your cheeks standing at your kitchen sink, talking in whispers with this man about his cock. Specifically, its predilection for you. You feel said cock twitch against you.

“No, really,” he groans, his voice is low and steady. “I know everyone thinks, ‘Oh Elvis Presley, he's some big rock star Casanova….’” He says this last line in high falsetto again. “But really, hand to God,” he smirks as he tells you this, “Lil Elvis, well, he don come out less he feels safe and…. cozy-like….”

You roll your eyes and let out a loud scoff up into his face. “You are unbelievable.”

“S’true, you have to see it to believe it.”

“You should go show it to Ida, pretty sure she wants to see it.”

“She’s definitely been friendlier than you have, think she’d come out ta night with me?”

“I think you’ve definitely got more of a chance with her.” You lean back, and cross your arms to create space between the two of you, breathng deeply. The air catches in your throat for a second as Elvis' right finger tips hit your shoulder, feathering lightly over the top of your arm. He leans into your ear and your eyes close instinctively as you gasp.

“Now, c’mon darlin, don’t be like that. I came all the way down here ta see ya…”

You open your eyes and look up at him, collecting yourself in Elvis’ shadow, his frame is blocking out the kitchen light, and it feels as if you are in your own little world, just the two of you and the kinetic warmth that draws you together. “Thought you said you were already down here for business…?”

Elvis kisses your neck and you exhale through your nose. “Well, yeah… but…I’d be lying,” another kiss to the right side of your neck, left hand rubbing your waist. “If I didn’t tell ya,” he nibbles the top of your ear. “Tha prospect of seeing you again,” his breath cools the wet spot he left at the base of your neck and you shiver. “Didn’t halfway get my motor running t’wards Jackson town….”

You sigh, you are a weak sack of flesh and bones, and the heady mix of Elvis’ soft lips on your neck, the delicate, needy caress of his fingers, the way his baritone voice reverberates through your body..uhhhh.. it all provokes an insistent tremor through you. You see him smile as he feels this, and moves both hands to your waist. You puff up your bosom as you breath again, and try to regain control of this situation. Hands still on his chest, you rub the fabric of his half buttoned white dress shirt, and then push him back a step, looking into up into his eyes, puzzled.

“Ok, but so, what’s changed? You got all weird when you found out I have a kid, like suddenly I was chopped liver, and then you tried to pay me off with money… do you have any idea how…. how cheap it feels to have someone hand you $500 after they just spent the night inside you?” You stutter, whispering angrily under your breath.

Elvis’ eyes search your face, and he traces his right index finger over his lips in a serious posture, left hand now in his back pocket, his weight shifted forward.

Looking around, you realize the fact that no one else has come into the kitchen means everyone probably knows you both are in here talking and they want to give you the space. You push him back further, suddenly very self-conscious.

“Honey you caught me off guard the other morning…you know, half asleep, tired as a mule after performin’ three concerts, THREE, in two days… an I hardly got any sleep on account of your insatiable appetite for kish ie kay or whatever ya Hebrew word for big ol sausage is…”

His serious expression turns into a teasing grin and his eyes light up as you kick his shin and mutter “it’s kishke and technically Yiddish " under your breath with a huff.

“Look … I’m from Tupelo an’ Memphis, women been having babies since they were 13, 14, 15 or 16 all my life. I reckon I’ve been with more women who had babies at home than I even know, considering some of the things we used to get up to on tour in those early days.” Elvis waggles his eye brows and you shake your head again, smoothing and pulling at the edge of your dress.

“And as for the money, s’not like that… wasn’t tryin to treat ya like a … lady of tha night, so ta speak…” he moves closer again, rubbing your waist, speaking softly, almost babyish “That’s jus how I am…. always wantin’ ta give yittle ol gifts ta folks I like… jewelry, cars, mink coats, and, well if he don't have anything nice, I give ‘em my wallet. Why, just yesterday, I gave a Vietnam vet I drove by in downtown Memphis $300. And I can tell you what, he didn't throw it back in my face like some folks, no, he said thank you very much Mr. Presley. God bless you and God bless America.”

“He did not say that…”

Elvis grinned and ran his hand through his hair again, then took off his sunglasses and cleaned them on his shirt. “Well, was the gist of what he said.”

“Ok, well there are two things you need to know. First, I’m not interested in gifts, cash or otherwise, if I’m with someone, it’s because I like them… so … there’s that. Second, this is just more of a public service announcement on behalf of hall women you may ever encounter, it is TOTALLY different to give a veteran on the street money than it is to give a WOMAN money after you spent the night fucking her brains out…”

“You swear like a goddamn sailor … know that? God, first words I ever heard come out of this pretty innocent little mouth were…” Elvis brushed your lips with his thumb. “…. Fucking cocksucker, wasn’t it?” He pushes back into you, being near him has become an ongoing game of tug-a-war you seem to be forever playing. His warm lips on yours and you shake your head, arms snaking their way around his neck.

“I can’t believe,” you talk into his lips, then tear yourself off him. “I can’t believe you just showed up at my house and now here I am kissing you in my kitchen when anyone could walk in here and…” you kiss him again, savoring how his eyes close and a stifled “oh baby…” comes out of his mouth, as you continue talking into his cheek. “An everyone probably knows what we’re doing.” You drop your arms, and push him off you. “Shit, including Ruth… look, I don’t know what the f—”

“Shhh, shhh, s’ok honey,” his hands are back at your sides, tracing up and up. “Look, why don’t you go tuck your baby into bed and we can go get a room somewhere alone, in a ho—“

“Elvis.” You say firmly. “I’m not doing that. I’m so, so embarrassed, I can’t imagine what Saul and Ida are thinking.”

“I think they like me…” his eyes meets yours, where he sees a skittish colt retreating from his charm. “Hey, it’s all good, baby, it’s all good. Les jus hang loose … Jerry an I’ll get out ya hair, head back ta Memphis, less’n you think you’d have dinner with me tomarra…”

You look down, you can’t help smiling. “Maybe… ok…. And…you can stay for a little while longer tonight… Ida’d probably be happy if you played us some music before you go find a hotel…”

You nod, squeezing his shoulder as you move around him, and take his hand, leading him towards the living room and onto the floral velveteen couch across from Jerry and Saul. Your uncle nods but does not pause, he’s now moved on to regaling Jerry with stories about his WWII Naval squadron in the Pacific. Elvis sits down and pulls you onto his lap, but you leap up, seeing Ruth and Ida walking down the hall from the bedrooms. Ruth is in her pajamas, and she runs over to you, as Danny and Harriet stumble in through the patio door in a cloud of dank marijuana smoke, and sit in the big, brown velour couch on the other wall, whispering and giggling with each other as they make eye contact with you. The room is quiet as Ruth stands behind you, peeking around your waist to look at Elvis.

“So you really are Elvis Presley?” She asks again, a shy grin revealing her toothy smile.

Elvis leans in. “Go ahead, pinch my nose…” she does and shrieks when he yells out in mock agony.

Ida laughs, and sits on the other side of the couch.

“Ok, Ruthie, let Mr. Presley be… oy vey, what excitement” Ida exclaims with a sigh.

She looks up at you, searching your face for any signal of what’s next, you imagine she’s contemplating what the proper etiquette is for entertaining rock stars who drop by unexpectedly when you’re hosting an end-of-the-school-year party for nine year-olds. You smile warmly, shrugging, and pivot around, patting Ruth on the bottom to go sit on Ida’s lap.

You pace to the edge of the room, announcing, “We’ve all been entertaining the great Elvis Presley, maybe we can persuade him to entertain us?”

He smiles, and shakes his head, but you grin, and go grab your guitar from your closet. Walking back in, you can hear Danny asking Elvis about his recent tour, wondering how long he was in town and mentioning how cool it would be if he’d come do an interview with him at the radio station. Saul and Ida pipe in tell Elvis how great Danny is as a DJ.

“C’mon you guys.” You shoot them a stern look as you put the guitar in Elvis lap, and sit down near him on the couch, scooching a little away toward Ruth, who slips off Idas lap and between your legs on the ground, looking up at Elvis in curious awe. “Please ignore them, they seem to have forgotten that you are our guest, not a circus monkey they can parade around town.”

Elvis looked at the guitar in his lap, as his low, playful baritone voice sending fire crackers up your center. “Says tha women who jus order me ta sing?”

“Ha, well, we took you,” you turn your head towards Jerry, “and your entourage in, unexpectedly, by the way, and welcomed you an fed y’all…”

“So you want me to sing for my supper?”

Ruth let out a laugh, and Elvis winked at her. You smooth Ruth’s dark, straight hair, steadying yourself as you return Elvis’ challenging gaze.

“Becky, if the man doesn’t want to, don’t push him,” Ida chimes in, apologetically, rubbing your shoulder. “He’s had a long drive and all his business to attend to, why it’s just nice to have him over.. and it doesn’t matter if his visit was unexpected, because you’re always welcome here, Mr. Presley, any friend of Becky’s is a friend of ours.”

Elvis grins, and picks up the guitar. “Why, that’s mighty hospitable of you ma’am, you make me feel right at home… an please…please call me Elvis,” and he winks at Ida, and you grimace as a feminine peal of laughter rings out through the room. You hear Saul whisper to Jerry that he might be jealous of his boss over there, “my Ida’s quite the looker after all these years.”

Ruth looks back over at Elvis. “Oh please, play us a song…”

“Alright baby, but what do ya think, should we get your mama to help me?” You shake your head, as Ruth laughs, leaning back into you and looking up at your face.

“Yes! No one sings like mom, she knows the Robin Hood sing, and all the summer camp songs, and Puff the Magic Dragon…”

Elvis strums the guitar, tuning a few strings, then looking over at you. “Hmm, well, I don’t know the Robin Hood song, maybe you oughta sing that one for us first, huh Becky Butt?”

You blush, as you hear your cousins try to muffle chuckles.

Ruth cracks up, and looks back up at you. “Becky Butt? Becky Butt! Ha! Yeah…. you gotta sing that for us, Becky Butt.”

Glowering, you shoot Elvis one of many looks of death you're doling out tonight , as he hands you the guitar with the most detestable smug look. You mumble how the sound track for Robin Hood has been playing non-stop in rotation with some other favorites in this house since Ruth got a book and LP set for Chanukkah a few years ago. You sigh, looking around as you start to strum, then down at Ruth as you begin to sing.

[Song link here]

Love,

It seems like only yesterday

You were just a child at play

Now you're all grown up inside of me

Oh, how fast those moments flee

Once we watched a lazy world go by

Now the days seem to fly

Life is brief, but when it's gone

Love goes on and on

Mmm mmmm mmmmm

Love will live

Mmm mmmm mmmmm

Love will last

Mmm mmmm mmmmm

Love goes on and on and on

Once we watched a lazy world go by

Now the days seem to fly

Life is brief, but when it's gone

Love goes on and on…..

Finishing, you playfully rub the bottom of your guitar over Ruth’s head. Jerry is looking at you with something like attentive awe in his eyes, before he catches Elvis’ glare, and straightens up. You feel Elvis rub your knee, his lips parted in wonder and you blush again, and look down at Ruth, whose hands hit the top of your feet as she looks over at Elvis.

“Yeah, Becky Butt here is a real whiz at music,”

“Ruth! Don’t call your mama that….” Ida calls out with a swift bop to Ruth’s head, but then adds. “But it’s true, of course, Rebecca was always the family musician.”

“Huh, yeah, I kin tell,” Elvis drawls, nodding at Ruth. “Can’t expect me to follow that, s’in my contract, I only perform after acts that make me look good…ain’t that right Jerry?” He looks over at his friend, then at Ruth. Jerry stutters, but before he can answer, you bump Elvis’ chest with the guitar as you hand it back to him

“Oh no you don’t…You’re not getting off the hook with a wink and some charm here, Presley… if you review your contract, I believe you’ll find a clause requiring Puff the Magic Dragon.” You look down at Ruth. “Then its bed time, baby… k? it’s past nine….”

“Oh but Becky Butt—” Ruth whines, giggling, but cannot help the yawn that sneaks out.

Elvis takes your mind off how much you want to kill him for calling you Becky Butt in front of everyone, and starts plucking chords, letting you all know, “this isn’t on my regular set, s’only reserved for more VIP programs for my my most demanding fan, ma lil girl, Lisa Marie… she’s about yer age, darlin, give or take a decade… seven goin’ on sassy…”

He chuckles, then begins to sing, in a sweet, high voice, the words to Puff the Magic Dragon. You almost cannot believe this is happening, watching Elvis close his eyes and go into himself as he softly sings Puff the Magic Dragon in an earnest high voice. This may be one of the most surreal experiences you have ever had. In his rich voice, the words have more depth, the sound is more full, and is like a completely different bluesy, country song. Elvis opens his eyes after the second line, bends his chin forward and earnestly sings to Ruth, then you, and then turns to sing to the others in the room. You feel your heart rise up to the top of your chest and your pulse quickens, while heat radiates down through your tummy and up through your throat and you rub your neck, hoping no one can tell how affected you are by the melody rumbling out over the couch and through the living room. The vibe is comfy and cozy, and you notice Ida is swaying back and forth, then rubbing the back of your neck and squeezing Ruth’s shoulder. Saul gives you a perplexed, amused look. After the first chorus, Elvis continues the chords for an extra stanza, and nods towards over in your direction.

“Think I need some help, this is a harmony, ain’t it?” You shake your head, but Ruth hits your shin, smiling up at Elvis. “C’mon now honey, don’t leave a man hangin’…”

You sigh, breathing, before you raise your voice and sing the alto harmony as Elvis’ brings his voice down to a lower, baritone melody. After the second verse, you bring Ruth up to your lap, and sing into her shoulder, pinching her side as she giggles, until she joins in, and Elvis looks around the room, calling out “Alright, now everybody.” A round of applause and a few whoops from Harriet come after the last Honah Lee. You swear you see Jerry quickly wipe his eyes, and you kiss Ruth, unprepared as she turns to Elvis and asks him if he is your boyfriend.

“Ok, time for bed!”

“Wait mom, but is he?”

Harriet bursts out a very stoned guffaw, and you shoot her a warning look, which is followed by a push from Danny.

Elvis’ smiles wide, then bites his lips, raising his eye brows at you, a wistful look taking over as he watches you stutter your response, lifting Ruth up in front of you as you stand up.

“No, baby, we only just met—“

“But then why is he here?” She asks, then turns to Elvis. “Are you staying for a sleep over?”

You gasp, and shake your head. “No, Ruth, Mr. Presley lives up in Memphis and —“

“But it’s past 9, you aren’t driving back to Memphis tonight?” Ida gasps, scooting closer to Elvis now that you have stood up and are walking Ruth towards the hallway.

“Well, ma’am, actually” he looks you squarely in the eye, and you think of his invitation for tomorrow. “I reckon Jerry and I will go find a hotel—“

“At this hour? Without a reservation - why they’ll gauge your eyes out! No, you must stay here.” Your jaw drops as you watch Ida offer the basement guest room, Danny’s old room. Jerry begins to chime in and is about to explain that he already made a reservation but before he can, Elvis coughs loudly and tells your aunt if she is sure, thow very much obliged he is to stay the night. A mix of shock and horror overwhelm your face, you almost cannot respond as your cousins get up and make their farewells for the night, and you vaguely hear Elvis offer to do an interview at the radio station tomorrow afternoon. You go through the motions of hugging Danny and Harriet, while Ruth bounces around and takes Elvis by the hand, telling him that if he wants her to do his nails during the sleep over she knows how.

You look at Jerry, crossing your arms.

“So, will you be bunking with Elvis in the basement.” You notice him pause, and look past you, to see Elvis do a slit neck motion under his chin.

“Uhh, um, actually, I’ll be good on the couch, or the floor.” Jerry offers, standing up and looking around.

“No, a man can’t sleep on the floor.” Saul chimes in.

You shake your head. “I really think you guys would be more comfortable at a hotel, with your own space. I know you can afford it.”

Ida walks over and hits you, giving you a knowing look. Oh god, is your aunt trying to get you laid. In her house? You cannot help but assume this is the case, with the way she pinches you expectantly and loudly intones. “Rebecca Grace Hoffman, don’t be rude!”

Elvis’ face lights up with a smirk, and you can almost feel the sympathy emanating from Jerry’s eyes.

“Fine, Jerry can sleep in my bed, and I’ll sleep with Ruth.”

You see Jerry’s eyes flit over to Elvis, who purses his lips and gives the most subtle, almost still, head jerk. Jerry knows Elvis’ possessive nature enough to know this would be out of the question. In the sheets of one of his women? Free to look around her underwear draws? Jerry would never do this, but it would probably be the first thing his boss thinks of because it would be the first he would do. He also knows Elvis wants to be in your bed, but he is not sure if you will be bold enough to do this. You watch these men exchange looks, and then sigh, exasperatedly.

“Ok, well, I’ll go put Ruth to sleep in my bed, and she can sleep with me, and Jerry can sleep in her bed.”

Ruth lets go of Elvis' hand and runs over to Jerry, pulling him down the hall and telling him, “My bed is way better than the couch, its pink, and I have, gosh, twenty stuffies to keep you company.”

Elvis chuckles, walking over to slap Jerry on the back before Ruth leads him to the back of the house. “Good, you’ll feel right at home, just like his room back in Memphis.”

Saul pats you on the shoulder, as he shakes Elvis’ hand and says good night. Ida goes to get Elvis and Jerry clean towels, and you take the moment alone to hit Elvis in the chest.

“This is unbelievable… why did you agree too stay here ? I’m gonna go get Ruth into bed, and then I have half a mind to run you out of this house…”

“Now, Rebecca Becky Butt Grace Hoffman, don’t be rude!” Elvis says, swatting your behind as you turn to walk back to the bedrooms.

You turn around, fists clenched, and walk back up to him, pointing your finger up in his face.

“Now, get this straight. I don’t know what you think is going to happen, but I will not be having sex with you tonight. In this house. Where I live. Where my family can hear us.” Elvis’ lip curls up as your talk, and he looks out toward his car through the front window, and then around at the back patio. “Not in the house, not in your car, not nowhere. Get this, mister?” Elvis tries to jokingly bite your wagging finger as it gets close to his mouth, and you grimace. “Ughhh…actually, I’m never having sex with you again. OK?”

His simpering smirk is too much, and his eyes are a dazzling blue dancing with mirth as Elvis pushes down his sunglasses and whispers in your ear. “Ya know, for someone so sure they don’t wanna get lucky, ya talk about it a lot.”

You squeal, clench your fist, and turn around again, taking several big breaths as you ignore the sound of Elvis Presley’s distinct chuckles echoing down the long hall way to the back of the house. Ida finds you at the back of the hall, carrying towels she is taking to Elvis.

“Becky, that man clearly drove down here from Memphis just to see you. He likes you. The way he looks at you… ooh girlchik, he hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night. So whatever went down, don’t be too hard on him… all men can be idiots, they can’t help it, especially men like that… ”

You sigh, and Ida pats your shoulder again, while you go pull Ruth away from introducing Jerry to all her stuffies, asking if he needs anything before pushing her into the bathroom to brush her teeth, then tucking her into your bed. You have been reading The Hobbit together, but its 10:15 pm, and Ruth’s eyes are now half closed as you rub her back, so you turn the overhead light off and talk softly with her, as she asks you again why Elvis came to visit and whether you can take him and Jerry for ice cream tomorrow.

“Time to sleep, my little kindela…” You whisper, as you sit next to Ruth on the bed. You had just spent all of fourth grade bribing her with an extra allowance and treats to get through the night in her own bed, trying to train her out of the habit of sneaking into bed with you in the middle of the night. Then Elvis Presley walks into your house, and all the rules get thrown out the window.

“Mom, if Elvis isn’t your boyfriend, then what is he?” Ruth yawned. “You know he said he has a whole room of stuffies at his house, and alot of Disney movies on film.” Her brown eyes squeezed shut with another yawn, it was contagious and you follow suit. … “Thet he shows on a projector in his basement….” Her eyelids closed, and you smoothed her back.

“Hmmm… that does sound pretty nifty… Elvis is just a… friend… I promise I’ll answer all your questions tomorrow, ok? We’ll get you packed up for summer camp and maybe go get ice cream, just us, how does that sound?”

You think about her question, whether Elvis is your boyfriend, and you have no idea how to explain the nuances of casual adult relationships. With rock stars. Ruth was three when you moved in with Mark for a few years, the most serious boyfriend you have had. Ruth remembers him pretty well, considering she was five when you split, and is still pretty friendly with him whenever you run into him at temple or around town with his wife and their two kids. Then there was Bruce, who Ruth vigorously disliked and made sure both you, and he, were aware of her disapproval. That relationship lasted six months, and you know it had a lot to do with the fact that Bruce was stiff around kids, almost the exact opposite of Mark, who wanted to make a home together have three or four more kids, and play out your days like a hipper, groovier Ozzie and Harriet. The home life Mark had grown to desire had taken you by surprise, considering you had bonded over your love of folk music, counter culture and progressive politics. You weren’t sure what you wanted, but you were pretty sure it involved some sort of livelihood of your own, and you still felt like you weren’t a grown up yet sometimes because you hadn’t figured out what you were supposed to be doing with your life. Elvis clearly had never grown up, and you could see why Ruth liked him, he was playful, funny and had no problem making fun of you, which was often your daughter’s social role.

“Sounds goooo” Eyes closed, Ruth’s voice trails off, and you continued to sooth her back, singing softly one of your favorite Disney songs from Dumbo, “Baby Mine,” which, if had Ruth been fully awake and alert, she would have told you she was too old for this song. However, in her twilight state, she smiles and her eyes droop completely, and you rolled your thumb down the middle of her nose, an old trick that kept her shutting her eyes if she tried to open them.

————————————————

Unbeknownst to you, Elvis had wondered down the dim, brown corridor after Ida had handed him a stack of towels and said good night with a friendly, knowing smile. Now he stood at the corner of the hallway watching you. Pulling his hand through his hair, he shifted and guiltily looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was behind him. He felt like a voyeur viewing an intimate moment between you and your daughter, but he couldn’t look away. Your breasts had been bulging out of the v-neck of your dress all night singing a silent siren song to him and he had wanted to be as close to them as possible. The sight of them resting over the top of the guitar, heaving up and down while you sang had completely done him in, and he was fairly certain you were the only person in the room that night unaware of how radiant and sexy you looked. Elvis found your aloof and self conscious demeanor captivating, he felt completely at ease when he was near you, and the sour or terse words that came out of your mouth didn’t matter, because you couldn’t conceal the affectionate gleam dancing behind your large, brown eyes that beckoned him forward.

Elvis had fought the urge to pull you on to his lap and kiss you to kingdom come in front of your whole family after you sang that silly Robin Hood song. Jerry, he realized he should say good night to Jerry, and so he pulled himself away from his view of you tucking Ruth into bed, and knocked on the door to Ruth’s bedroom. Bare feet hanging over the edge of a pink twin bed, with a quilted cover, Elvis couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of Jerry trying to get comfortable in Ruth’s bed as he checked in, ignoring Jerry’s exasperated look as he mumbled that he had prepaid $500 for two large hotel rooms where they could have been instead.

You were closing the door to your bedroom as softly and quietly as you could when you felt Elvis’ warm hand cupping the roundness of your bottom through your dress, then moving lower, to go under the cloth and rub your butt through your underwear. Jerking forward, you shake your head, seeing him, towels bunched under his jacket, your snarky retort silenced by his index finger over your lips.

“Shhhh… hey, can you come tuck me in?” He whispers, eyes dancing.

You grab the towels out of his arm pit, and carry them in front of your chest, leading him to the basement stairs at the back of the kitchen, whispering back. “Mhmm, a good knock to your head should do the trick… ”

“Sounds fun.” Elvis slaps you butt again, grinning like an idiot as you quicken your pace ahead of him.

You hear him close the door at the top of the stairs, the room is lit by a few soft table lamps around the finished basement. Your bare feet hit the puce green shag carpet, it was soft between your toes and you got your bearing. Dropping the towels on the dresser, you turn to Elvis, arms crossed.

Elvis took off his jacket, hanging it over the edge of the desk chair, before plopping down on the plaid couch against the side wall and spreading his arms across the back of the sofa, patting his knee for you to come sit with him. You shake your head, watching his eye brows go up in a question, seemingly surprised you were not running over to be with him.

“So how did you even find me?”

“Just followed the direction of ma pecker honey,” Elvis looked down at his crotch and then back at you with a goofy smile. “Somehow he just know’d where you’d be.”

“Ugh, my god, how do you ever get dates with lines like that?”

Elvis inhaled, deeply, and stood, striding toward you. “Most women find me charming.”

“I’m beginning to suspect most women are just hanging around waiting for you to empty your wallet,” you say, unable to stop your self from walking backwards into the laundry machine across from the couch as Elvis strode toward you.

Elvis’ hands on are on you, softly rolling his knuckles over the sides of your upper arms, leaning into your ear.

“You're right, baby, I ain’t ever had any skills seducing women…” his breath was on your neck, his hand following slowly, caressing the base of your neck, his mouth over your forehead, taking in the shallow sound of your inhale. “Like when I do this,” his other hand was at your waist. “Or this,” he kissed your forehead, “or this… “ his lips worked their way down along the side of your left eye toward your cheek, as he turned your chin up to meet his mouth. “I’m told it jus leaves em cold…” just before he kisses your mouth, you open your eyes and look up at him with serious, concerned eyes.

“I…. I… don’t … I’m not one of those women who expects money or diamonds or other gifts…that’s not my bag…”

“Ok, baby, I got it… no nice things…just sex…” he lifts you by the waist and sits you on top of the laundry machine, pushing his largesse between your legs.

“Elvis, I’m serious…and, I am NOT having sex with you tonight…”

“S’ok honey, I hate sex, it’d make me feel cheap and easy to have you take advantage of me like this….”

“Listen, I’m serious…”

“Me too …” his kisses on your neck become more fervent and insistent, while his right hand seems to have found its home fondling your left breast. You didn’t even realize your hands had moved up around his neck, gripping the back of his collar. You pull back.

“You have a girlfriend, though right?”

“You didn’t seem to care about the other night…”

“Yeah, well, that was a stupid, rash impulsive decision… with a planned expiration date… I didn’t think I’d see you again, or that you’d be coming here to my house, meeting my kid, going to my cousin’s work….”

Elvis paused, and took a deep breath, holding your eyes with his. “Listen, lil girl, there are probably ‘bout five or six chicks out there at any given time who would claim to be my girlfriend… but they know how it is…”

“And how is it?”

“I gotta be free to have fun….” An impish grin grew as he side this, as if bragging, and you couldn’t help but scowl playfully. “But, look … I’m having fun with you… an I want to keep havin’ fun wit ya… if I’m with a girl, she knows I’m not a one-woman guy…. And they’re ok with that… my intentions are honorable, and they know I’ll take care of 'em…. In my line of work, I’m gonna travel a lot, and they know I’m gonna meet people on the road…”

“Is that what I am? Some easy road gal?”

“Honey,” Elvis kissed the other side of your neck. “Ain’t nothin’ bout you easy… trust me…”

You push his chest out. “Ok, but what is this then?” Elvis’ hands move to rub up and down the top of your thighs and round over your knees, as your legs hanging off the top of the laundry machine on either side of his waist.

“Look, I like you, I can tell you like me… so let’s just have fun…” You gasp as his hands work their way under your dress to the elastic band of your underwear, his right hand palming the warm moisture wicking its way through the cotton cloth.

You moan out and bolt forward as his fingers probe further under the center strip of your panties, working their way under the fabric.

“Elvis, I can’t…” you moan out again as his forefinger slips over the pubic hair feathering your lower lips. “I don’t want anyone to hear us having sex, to know that I did this down here…”

“S’ok, honey, we’ll just be real quiet… no one will know…”

You bite your lip and grip his shoulder blade as you jerk forward when his index finger finds your clit, stifling a louder moan.

Elvis smiles on your nose, his forehead bending to meet yours, his breath is stilted. “Ya know, my bed room in Graceland is fully sound proofed…” his fingers move out to the top of your under wear, and pull them.

“I don’t know if I can let you do this here…”

“Now..” Elvis lowers himself on his haunches as he pulls your panties all the way off your feet. “Don’t be rude,” he kisses your inner thigh, first on the left side, “Rebecca,” then your right side, “Grace….” Then he flips the edge of your skirt up to reveal your bare waist, pulling your thighs forward so you’re sitting right at the edge of the laundry machine and he’s right at eye level with your pussy. He leans in to kiss the furry folds in front of him, and you throw your head back and a fervent desire takes over, all your concerns about where you are, what you are doing, what anyone might think, they all fade away, all that you care about is Elvis’ hands on your thighs, and the needy ache building up in your core. You gasp loudly, leaning on to your hands as they steady themselves against the cool, enamel of the laundry machine.

“There she is…” he whispers in awe, his fingers slowly parting your sheath, beginning to hum the melody of Amazing Grace “ how sweet the taste… that saved a wretch…” he leaned closer to lick the seam of your cunt, “like me….” He spread you further, sucking his thumb, eyes never leaving your quim, as he brings his slick thumb to rub your button, “ I once was lost…” Elvis moves his thumb to suck your clit with a pop, “but now am found…” and his thumb trails down to the silky, slick space right at your entrance, as his tongue takes over flicking your nub slowly, firmly, insistently, and you feel his humming start again intermittently as he lavs at your clit.

You cover your face as Elvis hums’ reverberate up into your belly. “I can't believe,” you moan into your palm ‘I’m doing this… I told myself I wouldn’t…” You shudder as a another lick tingles your core. “Do this….”

Elvis stops using his tongue on you, and you feel the vibrations of his voice resounding into you, “Now, sshhhh, shhh, what was that?” He brings his thumb over your clit, moving in a rhythmic circle as if coaxing a response, as he turns his ear to your vagina. You laugh and shiver at the sensation of his warm breath on your skin.

“What's that now?” He looks up at you as you run your hand through his black hair, a look of gleeful mischief on his face as he nods, as if listening to your pussy talk to him. “Ya been ignored the last few days?” His voice is now affecting an almost patronizing, babyish tenor. “‘Most days? Ooh uh huh…. don'tcha worry none, Daddy's here, he always takes care a his yittle girl…..”

You slap the side of his head playfully. “Oh my god…. quit playin…’”

He laughs, and returns his attention to your cunt, with a “There now, you heard her, no more playin’ round…time to get down to business…”

Each flutter of his tongue over your nub is more dastardly than the last, inducing a mantra of “oh gods” from you as you feel a burning ache spread through your lower body. Elvis inserts his fingers inside you, and his left hand holds you steady as you squirm with the intense shock waves of the pleasure coiling behind your belly button. Steadying yourself on the back control panel, you laugh when you accidentally hit the start button on the dryer and the machine starts to vibrate and heat up, and you use your hand on Elvis’ head to try and stop his machinations while you jostle to turn it off.

He looks up at you, wiping the mix of his salvia and slick off his mouth with a winsome, happy grin, “Is it me or am I makin’ the earth move?”

“Ha! It’s definitely you!” chuckling, you cup your hands around his face and draw him up to you, tasting your tangy flavor on his lips as you kiss him, giggling, nudging his nose with yours and relishing the sound of him releasing his belt, unbuttoning his pants and letting them drop down. You cannot help but smile at the feeling of his warm, girthy length hitting your thigh. Elvis' hand goes to lead himself inside you, pausing to look at you.

“Goddammit Becky, yer so goddamn beautiful…” you nod and grunt out softly as he pushes inside of you, the breath hitching in your throat as you watch his pupils widen and his mouth contort into the shape of a diamond.

You begin to unbutton his shirt, shaking your head.

“Ahhh… I still can’t believe… I’m doing this… ugHH… I told myself… I would never see you again, and then tonight… I definitely promised myself…HAhhhh… this wouldn’t happen….” You toss his shirt of the floor, and he rolls your dress up, looking down to watch as he enters you again, keeping an easy pace, then looking you in the eyes.

“Oh god.. looOOrrrd … want me to stop?

“Nope,” you groan again, wrapping your legs around as much of his waist as you can manage, your hands are on his shoulders and you undulate your hips forward to meet his gentle, sensual thrusts.”Don’t you dare… it feels… uhhh.. even better…ffffuckkk ….than I remember..”

Elvis mouth tightens in an O and his eyes narrow with intensity. “Uhh… honey… I know.. oh God, Becky… I’ve been thinking of your snug lil mitten since ya slapped my goddamn face the other morning…an AHHHhhh … an ran out on me…”

His cock hits you an angle that sends a charged bolt of electricity through you every. Fucking. Time. And you shudder, gliding forward and holding back your moans as best you can, savoring the sensation with Every. Fucking. Thrust.

“Oh God… don't remind me I did that…” huff, “ though you did talk to me…” you grab him by the back of hs neck, “like a whore…ahhhh… and..” You huff “I wasn’t exactly overjoyed when I first saw you today…”

Elvis kissed your forehead, increasing his pace slightly, but still rocking back and forth casually into you as he spoke and groaned and huffed and moaned. “Yeah, and the way….uhhhh…. you ran off an ….ahhh oh baby…. an threw on this slutty lil dress…” he pulled your dress over your head with a smile and a wink, throwing it over his shoulder. “Ya…unnhhhh… ya really showed me how unwelcome I was….”

You both giggle as you look into each other’s eyes, now fully naked. You pull him closer into you, arms around him, hungrily seeking the warm flesh of his body smushed into yours. Your skin heats up, and your hips sync into a familiar, desperate tempo, and you’ve lost the composure to speak in full sentences. Instead, you communicate via the staccato sound of each other’s panting breath and groans. Elvis bellows out a loud grunt, looking at you with a intense desperation, his pace surging forward. The light is dim, and in the shadow of his body all you can see is the need in his eyes.

“Oh God, Becky, you feel so ga -ga -ga-goood…. So goddamn good….” Elvis pulls pack, and you unclasp your hands from his neck to lean back on your wrists for support, while he bends to suckle at your breast, his hands gripping your back, pushing your areola farther into his mouth. You spasm forward as his teeth grate your nipple, burying your face in his hairy shoulder to muffle your cries as you chase your climax and writhe around his cock when the tremors of your orgasm overwhelm you. Elvis' hands are cupping your face, clearing the damp hair from your forehead as you pant, his lips are now on your neck and he rolls his hips into you, riding you through it and swallowing your moans with his mouth.

“S’ok… you ok?”

“Mhmmm… oh my fucking god… ooh my god…”

Elvis laughs at that. “There’s that Twitch I was lookin’ for….uhhh” his breath hitches as his rhythm slows, but his thrusts become more powerful. “Uh…I just want to be inside of you forever honey… Baby I gotta have this always…” Now you chuckle, and then bite your lip as you flick his nipples and he shoots you a fierce look, raising his eyebrows as he pumps into you harder, while you whisper in his ear to give you everything he’s got and slap his ass. Twice.

“Huh, you sure you can take it? ” He grins, and you nod, thrusting up to meet his hips and his movements become erratic and he holds your chin. “Ok, I’ll give it ya…. Oh baby… Imma give you everything… fuck…Here he goes… Ohhhhh lord almighty FUCKKKKK” you feel his cock throbbing up into you as he pulls your hips down on to him several time, then stops, twitching. Elvis stills completely and he pulls you as close into him as he possible can, kissing your shoulder. Sweat trickles down his brow and nose, and you wipe his face with your hand, then he kisses the top of your head and rests his chin there.

“Fucking hallelujah and amen….” Elvis mutters, his fingers circling your back, and you lean onto his chest, turning your ear toward the swift beating of his heart, gripping your arms around him as tight as possible. You stay intertwined in each other like this for a another minute, then he shifts his head off of you and you feel him pull out followed by the release of cum that trickles down your thigh. Elvis steps out of his pants, looks at you sheepishly, and then grabs you by your buttocks and lifts you giggling and kissing his face over to the bed.

"Jus so you know, yittle Elvis must really like you… he doesn’t never finish inside just anyone… that’s how much he trusts you… that’s how much…” Elvis kisses your lips as he throws you on the bed with a laugh. “How much he respects ya….”

“Hmm… ooh to be filled with his spunk…what an honor indeed…” you giggle.

“Oh, ya think this is some sort of joke, huh? I’m naked, bearing you ma soul, an ya laugh?” Elvis grins, hovering over you and tickling you as you giggle more, until you swat him several times and eck out that you do not want to wake the household.

He stops, pulling up the covers. “Probably too late for that honey, you were moanin’ up a storm…. Les just hope they think another tornado was passing through….”

Covers pulled back, you lay in an naked embrace, murmuring to each other as your fingers haphazardly trail over his chest and down his stomach. You nuzzle into his armpit and he kisses your head. You hum some of that song from Robin Hood while he strokes your belly.

“I’m crazy about you, kid. Come back ta Memphis with me tomarra, you can bring ya baby, ain’t no thing, Lisa Marie is coming next week, they can run each other ragged round the place… we can run each ragged round the place…” he grinned.

“I can’t, Elvis… I’m dropping Ruth off at summer camp Sunday… she’ll be gone for three weeks….”

“Well, thas perfect, Jerry an I can take y’all, then you come back to Graceland and I’ll show you what its like to make love with sound proof walls…” he smirked, finality in his voice.

“Mhmmm… I can’t leave the store, it wouldn’t be fair.. to Harriet… to my aunt and uncle…”

Elvis grunted. “Hmmm…. Well, don’t make up yer mind right this second… think on it …” he cooed, rubbing your shoulder, then jumped up and walked to his jacket, you see him rummage around in his pocket, and pull out some loose junk, then pick out a few pills, swallowing them down dry. You raise your eye brow, but say nothing, as he walks back, trundles onto the bed, and you fall asleep there in his arms, completely naked.

It’s 6 a.m. when you wake with a jolt to feel his embrace tight around you, his snores warm the top of your hair, and you smile, wanting to stay like this as long as you can, but you think of Ruth waking up alone and seeing you come out of the basement in your dress from the night before. So you move his arm, sneak up the stairs, and shower, before dressing for the day, and sitting at your vanity to make a list of everything you have to do that day to get Ruth ready for summer camp. There is no way you’re letting Elvis drive you to drop her off, no way you are going to Memphis. But you smile, thinking of the previous night’s activities.

————————————————

When Elvis stumbles up the basement stairs, it’s noon, and he finds Jerry in the breakfast nook next to the kitchen talking to Ida, a fresh pot of coffee brewed. Jerry jumps up to get Elvis a cup, but Ida waves him off, and moves Elvis to another chair, before proceeding to mother the two men as if they were her children. You walk into the kitchen to find Elvis smiling while Ida brings a second plate of freshly fried challah French toast, regaling him and Jerry with embarrassing stories about you as a teenager.

“Oh, well Rebecca was definitely the only creative one in a family of left brain types, you know, she always loved being outside, she was a counselor at Camp Jacobs, all the kids were, actually… but Becky, oy, she’s such a talented artist - music, drawing, sewing, she made those dungarees she’s wearing, you know. Her talents are really wasted managing the shop.”

“I like working at your hardware store just fine, tante…”

Elvis raises an eyebrow your way, taking in your flower-patterned overalls as he learns that your mother, father, and older siblings are all lawyers.

“Except Deborah, she’s a judge now, up in Memphis actually.” Ida adds.

You change the subject, asking the men what their plans are, as Ida does the dishes. Jerry and Elvis look at each other. Elvis had promised he would do an interview with Danny at his radio station that afternoon, and Ida interrupts to see if they plan to stay another night, inviting them to have dinner with just the family if they want to. Elvis catches your eye, as he stutters, thinking of his invitation to go out. Just as he starts to say that maybe he and Becky might go somewhere, Ruth runs into the kitchen, excited to hear that Elvis is staying and asking where he’s talking you all that night.

“Ok, I’m gonna cook dinner here,” you announce, “and then maybe we can go out for ice cream? I don’t know, though, I feel like if we go anywhere with you, you’ll get mobbed and then—”

“How will we get our ice cream?” Ruth adds earnestly.

“Well, Jerrah here is an expert at scouting out good ice cream parlors, maybe he can find one for use to go to?” Elvis grins, looking over at Jerry.

Ruth does a little dance as she says, “Yay!” then hops from leg to leg. “So, I have a joke…. Where does a fish keep his money?”

Elvis cracks a smile as he looks over at where you stand, leaning in the door frame between the kitchen and the breakfast nook. “I don’t know, kid, where?”

You turn to finish putting the last few things in Ruth’s suitcase, her voice squealing out “In the river BANK!” behind you, and you hear laughs echoing through the house. You chuckle to yourself as you hear Ruth continue to recite corny jokes to the boys.

Prepping your specialty, Southern fried tofu while you listen to Danny’s interview with Elvis at 5 p.m., you watch the men exchange shrewd expressions when they return from the station and Ruth explains to them that you’re a vegetarian, and all the reasons why, before cajoling them to come hula hoop with her.

Elvis pushes Jerry to go with her, with a promise to join in a second, then he is behind you as you sauté collard greens, leaning into your neck whispering, “Hmm… vegetarian, huh? Seemed to have no problem putting ma meat in your mouth the other day…” and you roll you eyes with a soft “Ha ha ha…” unable to resist the warm comfort of his body, and you wiggle your butt into him, turning your head to kiss his cheek, as he stays there, pushing his mouth into your neck while you cook.

You don’t notice, but Ida comes by the kitchen, and stops for a moment to watch the two of you sway and mumble to each other in an embrace over the stove, walking away with a radiant smile to go check on Saul, who’s been doing some work on the front yard.

Elvis, Ruth and Jerry go out back and pick flowers for you while you put the finishing touches on dinner, and you light up with delight when Ruth brings them over, announcing “these are for you Becky Butt.” You scowl at Elvis every time she uses that nick name, and you hit him with a laugh when he pulls you onto his lap in front of everyone to tell you how much he liked dinner before you and Ida start clearing the table.

“Really? You liked the fried tofu?”

He holds you on his knee, eyes alight. “Baby, that was the best damn appetizer I ever had. Ready for the main course.” He wiggled his eye brows at Ruth. “You’re not full, are ya lil britches?”

Ruth’s mouth turns into a wide, enthusiastic smile, “Can we have ice cream as the main course?”

“The country fried tofu and greens was the main course, baby, don’t listen to this man…I’m not sure he earned his dessert… only good lil boys who have good lil manners get ice cream.” You pull his arm off you and finish clearing the table.

Saul is at the sink, doing the dishes, and Ida pushes you out of the kitchen, telling “You kids go out and get your ice cream already.” You go kiss her cheek, scoffing that Elvis and Jerry are far from kids.

The air inside the empty Baskin Robbins is a cool salve to the hot Jackson night. You don’t know how, money you assume, but Jerry arranged for the shop to stay open past their 7 pm closing time. The four of you are the only customers, and you pinch Elvis’ shoulder as you get up to go use the bathroom, telling them to order you a scoop of butter pecan. Ruth announces that she can’t decide, so Elvis looks at Jerry, and, winking at Ruth, instructs the server to bring the table a scoop of every flavor, on one big plate. Ruth’s eyes get huge and she bangs the table.

“My mom is gonna flip her lid when she sees what you ordered!”

Elvis slaps the table. “Oh no, ya think so? Quick, call that girl back here so we kin cancel our order…” and he chuckles as Ruth shakes her head no. “Ok, then, don’t you worry bout your mama… now Ruth, what’s the story with your daddy?” Elvis starts tapping his fingers along the top of the table.

Now it’s Ruth’s turn to wiggle her eye brows, and she folds her arms on the table. “Oh him? My daddy is a lawyer, he lives in Birmingham with his wife Jean, and according to my mom, ‘he’s a bastard and I don’t know why I ever liked him,’… at least that’s what she says when she doesn’t know I’m listening…”

Jerry looks down, shaking his head, as Elvis belts out another belly laugh. Jerry was starting to like Becky and he shuddered as he realized the different permutations this relationship could take as he watched Elvis use Ruth to get the skinny on her mom’s love life, asking whether Becky had boyfriends, and learning about her past serious relationships. He hopes that when they leave tomorrow, Elvis would get back to Memphis and Becky would be out of his system. Otherwise, knowing how his boss could get fixated on a woman impulsively, he saw a tumultuous month or so of Elvis having him drive them back and forth between Memphis and Jackson. Maybe even trying to get Becky a house in Memphis, or buying her a house in Jackson so he can control how the relationship worked out. He didn’t see Becky going for that, and hoped she might tell Elvis to take a hike. But as Jerry watched her stroll back to the table, an irrepressible look of delight and happiness in her eyes, he realized it was unlikely, and worried how she would try to make what ever fling this was going to turn out to be work long distance through tours and other girl friends, as Elvis dragged Becky and her kid and her sweet normal family into his chaos. It was then, as Becky cried out with shocked surprise when the server put down four bowls with 31 scoops of ice cream, that Jerry started thinking of ways to get Elvis to dump her.

————————————————

It is 8 a.m., but the Mississippi sun was up early, and the frame of Elvis yellow Cadillac is already hot to the touch as you open the back door, only to have Elvis slap the white leather of the front seat and cluck for you to get your butt next to him. You look at Jerry with pity as he lugs Ruth’s suitcase to the trunk, and Ida and Saul are giving your daughter a succession of tight hugs, then walking her out to the back seat.

“Have a safe drive,” Ida’s hand rubs your arm over the window frame. Elvis jumps out of the driver’s seat, and walks around to give your aunt and uncle a big hug, and you notice that Ida whispers something in his ear.

You lecture Elvis on how the drop off will go at Camp Jacobs, instructing him not to get out of the car, not to take off his sunglasses or start making a spectacle of himself for the staff or other families dropping their children off, you know a lot of these people, you and your family grew up going to this camp every summer, and you are only letting him do this so you can spend an extra few hours together, before he drops you in Jackson and heads back to Memphis. Ruth asks the guys what their favorite cartoons are, what their favorite television shows and movies are, and whether they plan to see Jaws, she thinks it looks scary, but she’s not a fraidy cat. You make a withering face just to Elvis as she says this, and you notice that Ruth is completely unperturbed by the fact that Elvis has his arm around you while he hums along to the songs on the radio, then explains to Ruth how the problem with cartoons are that they are on Saturday mornings, and he wishes there were more Saturday night cartoons, so he could watch them with his daughter.

“That’s why I just get copies of all the cartoon films I can … y’all will have ta come up to Graceland sometime, we can watch Robin Hood, Peter Pan, Lady and the Tramp, I got ‘em all…” you jab Elvis in the ribs as he says this, a warning shot, because it is so uncool to make plans with Ruth for the future, when you haven’t even discussed the next step with him yourself.

The sign over the wrought iron arches of Camp Jacobs greets you as Elvis pulls up, and the staff at the gate squint at him with a furrowed brow and puzzled recognition as you lean across his lap and give them Ruth’s name and cabin group. Your breasts graze the top of Elvis’ thighs, and you feel him push his legs up into them with an innocent look on his face as you settle back in your side of the front seat. At Ruth’s cabin, Elvis, to no one’s surprise, does not keep a low profile. He jumps out, swaggers to the trunk, gets Ruth’s suit case, as he introduces himself to every counselor and parent in sight, before a sizable throng have gathered around, and you hear Ruth telling people that Elvis is her mom’s boyfriend. You steady yourself as you bend to kiss her and hug her and kiss her again, Jerry gives her a high five, and Elvis bends down, gives her a hug, and then tells her to have a good summer.

“Give em hell, lil’ britches.” He kisses Ruth on the cheek, and she giggles, kissing him back, whispering a shy thanks in his ear for all the ice cream and reminding him that she still can’t decide which flavor is her favorite, so they might have to order all 31 scoops again next time. He laughs loudly, and you have to pull him away from the campers after a good 30 minutes posing for photos with anyone in her cabin and the adjourning one who had a camera handy loaded with film.

————————————————

Cat Stevens voice sings at you from the Cadillac’s speakers as you drive back to the highway, Elvis' hand is on you again in the car, it's just Jerry in the back seat now, and so E makes no attempt to hide the intimate way his fingers caress your inner thigh. Relaxed, tired and in a daze from another late night showing lil’ Elvis your version of Southern hospitality, and also, the whirlwind of the weekend, you lean into Elvis arm as it crosses in front of your breasts, and lay your head on his shoulder. You wake up, rubbing your eyes, realizing you dozed off, and then sitting straight up with a jolt when you see the signs for the US-61.

“Elvis!” You shout, “Elvis, this is not the way back to Jackson.”

He hums softly. “I know honey, s’cuz we ain’t goin’ back to Jacktown.”

“Elvis, turn around, turn around, I can’t go with you to Memphis. My aunt and uncle will worry.”

Elvis rubs your shoulder. “Honey, they’re the ones who packed your bag…I’m sorry Twitch, you done been kidnapped.”

You shriek up to the roof of the car, and slap his arm, hard, which only works to provoke more chuckles as you rant. “Of all the arrogant, bullshit, fucking entitled, rock star, fucking cocksucking mother fucking unbelievable stunts——"

READ CHAPTER FOUR HERE

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[chubbygirlmaddy14]

The Dollmaker: The Dollmaker

Dale Kobble x reader

A/N: Hi guys :3

This was gonna be a crack fic (which it still kinda is to me) but I got serious with it because all of a sudden I got really into writing. This is the first fanfic I've written and I'm going based on fanfics I've read so DON'T JUDGE ME PLEASE IM TRYING MY BEST! Anyways, love you my pookie bears, enjoy!

TW’s will be at the beginning of each chapter (if there is any)

The story will also be on my wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/374688245?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=chubby_girl_maddy16

Chapter 1: The Dollmaker (592 Words)

Cloudy and cold. How it's always been in my hometown, nothing new. Driving down the road I approached my new home.

                                 Well new to me.

It had been bought once I moved away for college a few states away, I couldn't stand being there after everything.

The blood, the mess, how everything was left after I came home that day. I closed my eyes as I parked in the driveway, taking deep breaths to forget.

         A 17-year-old me just                               

                 wanted to go to bed that night.

The U-Haul my friends helped drive pulled up on the sidewalk. Getting out of my car, I shut the door and start walking over to them as they get out. "Thanks for the help guys," I call out to them putting my hands in my trench coat.

"It's no problem! I always love road trips, you know that" Nicolas smirks leaning against the truck "Yeah you know how much we love you Y/N, we'll always help out, besides the fact you're now hours away," Linda sighs giggling a bit. I smile softly before coming over and hugging them tightly. "You know I will always come to see you guys, besides this isn't a one-bedroom house, you are always welcome"    

                                  Nicolas laughs

"Yeah sleep the night away in the murder house,

maybe have a little seance!"

We all laugh as I hit his arm shaking my head. After our laughter died down, I started getting a strange feeling. Someone's watching us, no     

                                        Me.

Shaking the feeling off, I open the back of the truck before pulling boxes out and heading inside. After a few hours we all slump down onto the couch the old owners left behind, catching our breaths. "So glad I didn't workout today, that was a awful" Nicolas said looking at the both of us.

"When do you ever workout twink?"

Linda said, making me giggle and cover my mouth having him hit me. "Y'all are both assholes" he said making us all laugh.

I stand up looking through the curtains to see that the sun was almost completely set smiling softly knowing I can relax now. Until I turned my head towards the tree and seeing something, someone, behind it.

  What is that.

I blink seeing it all gone and think it's just me being paranoid. New home, new state, new year. Everything was home to you but it was a fresh start, it felt different, not telling if it was a good or bad feeling. Linda and Nicolas stood up before heading over, saying their goodbyes to me, hugging me tight before heading back to Colorado and continuing with their lives. "Be safe." Linda said whispering to me as we hug. I know I wouldn't be able to get those words out of my head for a while

       "I promise." I say back hugging her tighter.

Deep down though I knew something was going to happen to make that difficult in the end.

I open the door for them, watching them turn back and walk to the truck. As they get inside it, I wave at them watching them turn on the truck, and step on the gas. They were gone, and even though I knew we all would keep talking.

                            I was alone again.

  In this cold, big, lonely house with nothing but memories. Some good ones, my sister and I playing in the yard, enjoying each others laughter, and the other day I don't wanna remember walking in on.

    All on her birthday, November 14th.