#which I’ll have to return there 3 more times over the course of two weeks

[venting-town]

I can’t even move my fucking head for a second without my eyes freaking the fuck out

Pretty sure that’s it’s because of nystagmus, which is ANOTHER sign of me having brain tumor!

Because why not ig?? It’s not like there’s literally everything else already going on/about to go down

Fuck retarded-ass existence dude. If anyone else likes it, great! Good for them

It’s not for me, REGARDLESS of whatever stupid-ass world I’m thrown into

[waterhousse]

Invisible String

pairing: college!ellie williams x reader

summary: a week in your life where someone leaves you an anonymous note and you also meet a cute girl in one of your classes.

author’s note: this is un(necessarily) LONG, so take your time to read it. i hope you still enjoy it !! <3

• • • •

monday

you were in front of your dorm, digging for your keys in the mess of your backpack when a high-pitched voice yelled your name. of course, it could only belong to you best friend, blair. you prepared yourself to receive one of her bone-crushing hugs.

“there you are! i sent you like a million messages!”

“everything okay?” you asked before pulling away.

“yeah, i just have a little proposal.”

you narrowed your eyes at her, “what are you scheming?”

“you see, my gorgeous boyfriend is throwing this massive party on friday—”

“immediately no.”

“oh, c’mon!” she grumbled. “it’s been like five months since the last time we went out together. i miss my drunk little partner,” she pouted, pinching your cheek.

you let out a laugh, softly pushing away her hand out of your face. “i’m not exactly in a party mood, blair. i’m sorry.”

you made a poor attempt to avoid eye contact, but the weight of her stare was a difficult one to ignore. you looked back at her, already defeated.

“it’s nothing serious, but i’ve just been feeling a little insecure. and i’m okay,” you were quick to clarify, “i just want to stay in my dorm and watch a movie or something. it’s only temporary, i’ll feel better soon. you know i always do,” you opened the door and waited for her to inside first.

“how many times do i have to tell you you’re gorgeous for you to believe me? look at you!”

“blair—”

“i’m serious.”

“i know you are. thank you,” you replied softly. “forget about it, let’s just go inside. i’m tired and i wanna sleep.”

your friend had a worried look on her face, but decided to drop the subject, “still no roommate?”

“nope,” you grinned, closing the door behind you. “i’d invite you to live with me but you’re too busy staying at your boyfriend’s,” you teased her.

“can you blame me? his apartment is the size of a million of these dorms combined,” she exaggerated. “besides, he’s the sweetest man to ever exist. he’s every girl’s dream.” she sighed dreamily as she threw herself on the unoccupied bed. you raised your eyebrows at her, to which she rolled her eyes. “if he were a girl you’d be after him, too.”

after your friend bragged about her boyfriend for a few more minutes, both of you ended up falling asleep, totally drained from your long, boring classes. you woke up two hours later thanks to blair’s boyfriend who called her wondering where she was.

“wanna go grab some coffee? he’s paying!” blair offered with a big smile, which you returned.

“maybe he is every girl’s dream after all.”

you and blair headed outside shortly after, gossiping about people you didn’t even know. suddenly, your sleepy eyes spotted something strange on the door, more specifically, on the whiteboard you had outside. someone had left an anonymous message on it.

the prettiest girl on campus (and of everywhere else too) i wish i could come up with the courage to talk to you. guess i’ll just admire you from afar

ps: not in a creepy way

ps2: seriously sorry if this is creepy

you stared blankly at the message, reading it over and over again.

“did you do this?”

“hold on, i’m looking for that one tweet i saw. i’m telling you, she’s cheating on him—”

“blair!”

she finally looked up from her phone, “what?”

“did you do this?” you pointed at the board.

her expression comically changed from confusion to extreme excitement, eyes widened and mouth hung open. an over exaggerated gasp left her lips before she grabbed you by the shoulders.

“oh my god! you have a secret admirer!”

“no, i don’t. that’s probably not for me. someone must’ve mistaken my dorm for somebody else’s.”

“your name is literally on that board. besides, you are the prettiest girl to ever exist, so, i’m pretty sure they’re not mistaken.” blair kept looking at the note, meticulously analyzing it. “let’s pray it’s not a man who wrote this. imagine if he confesses his feelings for you in person. he’d be in for a very awkward rejection.”

you tried to downplay the situation by telling blair it was probably just a joke, but on the inside you couldn’t stop wondering who did it. as you walked down the hallway, you discreetly checked the whiteboards from the other dorms. all they had were random doodles and people’s names, nothing else.

tuesday

you were currently sitting under a big tree, admiring the sunset. birds chirped softly at the distance, adding even more magic to the beautiful scenery in front of you, but even the peaceful atmosphere that surrounded you wasn’t enough to calm your racing mind.

the anonymous note was certainly the most interesting thing that had happened to you in a while, but you were a serial overthinker. besides making you feel extremely curious about the identity of the person who wrote it, it had also made you spiral about the way you acted towards strangers.

being content with your small circle, you never put any effort in starting conversations with someone you didn’t already know. you felt as if you didn’t need anyone else in your life, but was that a mistake? what if the mystery person tried talking to you but you acted uninterested? what if they attempted to make eye contact but you were too busy staring down?

the most important question spinning around your head was how many special bonds had you lost simply because of your behavior?

as your silent crisis continued, the sun began to disappear on the horizon until it was fully dark. your eyes quickly found the moon, with the sky being clear, you could see her perfectly.

you took out your phone to take some pictures of the satellite, as well as everything else around you. the trees, your coffee cup, an empty bench and an orange cat that was laying next to it.

just as you were taking photos of the cute animal, someone crouched down next to him to pet him. that was the moment you saw her. a girl you had never seen before, but who managed to catch your attention right away. she was simply beautiful. many people, places, art pieces and more had been described with that adjective, but in your mind, that unknown girl was the first being in history to be worthy of it. you were completely mesmerized.

you put down your phone and watched the sweet moment develop in front of you. you could tell she was speaking to the cat, who seemed to really enjoy her company. the girl got up after a few minutes, giving the cat one last scratch between his ears before leaving. a frown instantly appeared on her face the moment she looked away from the animal, making you chuckle. she looked absolutely intimidating, the total opposite of what you had just witnessed.

your eyes followed her until she disappeared from your sight, but her image stayed on your mind for the rest of the day.

wednesday

you were having one of those days when everything that can go wrong, goes wrong. you had slept through your alarm, didn’t have time to have breakfast, couldn’t find your books and forgot your jacket on your way out. one may think it couldn’t get worse, well, unfortunately, it could.

you felt your soul escape your body when the, feared by many, physics professor laid his demonic eyes on you. you were certain you looked insane; hair a total mess, completely out of breath and slightly shaking from your nervousness.

“class started ten minutes ago,” his strident voice echoed in the big classroom. you didn’t even need to look to know everyone’s eyes were on you.

“i know,” your voice pathetically quivered. “sorry.”

“for your information, if you have somewhere to be you wake early enough to make it on time. it’s not rocket science, all of your classmates did it.” when he got no reply from you, he sighed. “there’s only one more seat available at the back. lucky for you, you’ll be sitting next to one of my best students. maybe you could be friends, she could teach you how to get here on time.”

with your eyes glued to the floor, you walked straight to where the professor pointed to without making a sound. you tried your best to ignore your classmates’ stares, but they lacked discretion.

fortunately for you, a nice surprised awaited you. the student the professor mentioned was none other than the girl you had seen the day before. she was even more beautiful up-close, which wasn’t exactly a good thing. she had just witnessed your most embarrassing moment. still, her eyes radiated kindness.

“this guy’s an idiot. you were only a few minutes late and didn’t even miss much. he was just struggling to turn on the projector the whole time,” the girl whispered at you once you sat down.

you were ready to reply with just a ‘yeah’, but the crisis you had the day before stopped you.

“he’s the worst,” you replied instead. “i always feel on the verge of puking whenever he looks at me,” the regret you felt after saying that was immediate, fearing it was too much information.

you felt yourself relax at the sound of her laugh, and of course it had to be the most heavenly sound you had ever heard.

“i’m ellie williams,” she leaned in, reaching over for your hand. you introduced yourself as your brain started mindlessly picking up details about her, like the fact that she had many freckles scattered all over her face.

you held her gaze for a few seconds before looking back at the professor, who had begun talking about punctuality. he sent you multiple looks during his whole speech, you found it hilarious. he looked like as if his eyes were about to pop out of his sockets.

trying to act as normal as possible, you grabbed your water bottle and took a sip in an attempt to calm down. you realized that was a huge mistake once you glanced at ellie, who was trying her hardest to hold in her laugh. you almost spit out your water when she made eye contact with you, causing you to choke.

“shit, you alright?” she leaned in, now fully laughing, and patted your back.

“yes— yeah,” you managed to say in between your coughing and laughing. you looked around, noticing how quiet the classroom had gotten. yours’ and ellie’s voices were the only thing cutting through the deadly silence. “sorry, i choked on water— sorry,” you apologized to the professor, who was impatiently tapping his foot on the floor.

“may i continue, ladies? is that okay with you two or should i wait for you to be done?” neither of you answered, so he let out one of his classic sighs. “as i was saying…”

the moment he looked away, you covered your face with your hands, trying to muffle the giggles that were escaping your lips. ellie was in the same state as you, which only made things worse.

“if he didn’t hate me before, he sure does now,” you whispered, eyes sparkling with amusement. “why does he have to be such a dick? it’s not like a choked on purpose. i could’ve died,” you dramatized.

actually, it’d be very rare to die from choking on a liquid, ellie almost said, but she didn’t want you to think she was a smart-ass. instead, she just kept laughing.

silence grew between the two of you as you came back to your notes and tried to pay attention to the class. ellie’s eyes inevitably fell on you again, trying to come up with something to say to keep the conversation going.

“you know, i, personally, wouldn’t take advice from a person like him, but i think he’s right about us being friends.”

“yeah, i think he is,” you warmly smiled before looking down at your notes again, unable to hold her gaze.

having fun in physics class seemed impossible at the beginning of the semester, but it had actually happened. you and ellie talked the whole time, which made the minutes go by faster than expected and also annoyed everyone around you.

“see you next wednesday? try to be on time, though. i don’t want him to kill you in front of the whole class.”

you laughed at ellie’s words and nodded, “see you next week.”

i really hope it’s sooner than that, the thought appeared in your mind without warning. you watched ellie go, a shy smile appeared on your lips when she glanced back at you and caught you staring.

the rest of the morning felt boring and uneventful in comparison to physics class, so you were really excited to finally be back at your dorm. your tired eyes fell on the whiteboard, no message from the mystery person. you tried to ignore how weirdly disappointed you felt and went inside, telling yourself it had been, probably, a one time thing.

thursday

shyness had never been a problem for you but, still, socializing wasn’t really your thing. if there was a chance for you to avoid interaction with strangers, you took it, so it was certainly weird seeing ellie at the dining hall and feeling an intense need to say hi. good thing she wasn’t exactly a stranger, right?

she was sitting alone in one of the most secluded tables, eyes focused on her phone. without giving it much thought, you walked towards her, but you began second guessing your decision once you realized she probably wanted to be alone. your steps became more hesitant the closer you got to her and just as you were about to turn around and leave she looked up. her surprised expression quickly changed into a delighted one.

“hey,” she greeted as she took off her headphones.

“hi,” you smiled back as a feeling of panic started setting in. you had absolutely no idea of what to say to her.

“you can sit if you’d like,” she offered, gesturing to the seat in front of her.

“you’re not busy? i can leave if you alone if—”

“no way,” ellie shook her head and, with her foot, pushed the chair towards you before looking up at you. “c’mon, sit.”

the moment you sat down, she leaned forward. you, instinctively, leaned back, but kept your hands just a few inches away from hers. you bit the inside of your cheek, trying your hardest to hold her gaze.

“so, how you’ve been? had any nightmares about our beloved professor yelling at you?” ellie asked, amused. you internally thanked her for starting the conversation.

“i can see his spit flying at me in slow motion whenever i close my eyes,” you replied, making ellie laugh. “that was definitely the last time i’m late to class. i hate attention, if i have to go through something like that again i’ll just die on the spot.”

ellie’s smile hadn’t faded since the moment she saw you, “just try not to be late to any of his classes, he’s the only one who gives you shit for that,” she adviced. “i knew he was insane because i’ve heard about it, so i tried to get on his good side by always being early. i considered sitting at the front, too, but that was too much.”

“you always sit at the back?”

“yeah, i don’t like having people behind me. for some reason, it really freaks me out knowing someone is staring at the back of my head.”

you hummed in response, mind deep in thought. you never looked at the back when you entered the classroom, in fact, you kept your head down, but ellie had always been there.

how many special bonds had you lost simply because of your behavior?

“hey, my friend’s boyfriend is throwing a party this friday, i was wondering if you’d like to go.”

“cool, yeah, of course,” ellie quickly replied.

“yeah?” you beamed, biting down your bottom lip.

“yes,” she nodded, the corners of her mouth quirking up again, “can i bring a friend?”

“sure,” you smiled. you took out a pen and a post-it from your backpack and wrote the address before sticking it on her hand. your eyes wandered further and ended up on her watch. without a second thought, you grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer to you, tilting your head to see the time. “shit, i gotta go to class, but i’ll see you friday?”

“see you then,” ellie said, but she didn’t want you to leave, and you didn’t want to go either. she hesitated before calling your name, making you turn around. “can i walk you to class?”

the question lingered in the air as you processed it. it had caught you completely off guard, which ellie could tell just by seeing your expression. fearing she messed up, time began moving slower and slower to her until you finally accepted her offer with a huge grin on your face.

ellie released the air stuck in her lungs before catching up with you. anyone with a pair of working eyes could see how nervous the two of you were, except yourselves. you were too busy focused on not to embarrass yourself by tripping and ellie was trying to regulate her breathing. neither of you dared to talk because it would make it too obvious, but ellie finally broke the silence once you stepped outside, asking you what class you had.

you had always hated small talk because you feared there’d be a point in which you wouldn’t know what else to say, but that moment never came with ellie. the conversation flowed smoothly between smiles and chuckles from the both of you.

“oh, look!” she suddenly said, casually grabbing you by your shoulder as if she had done it a thousand times before. you followed her line of sight and gasped when your eyes spotted a familiar orange cat. it was the same one you had seen ellie pet when you didn’t even know her yet. “wanna go say hi?”

“how is that even a question?”

ellie was the first one to approach him, crouching down in front of him. you copied her action a second later, already eager to pet him.

“his name is orange. original, right?” ellie sarcastically asked, gaining a laugh from you. “i didn’t name him, by the way. he has a tag with his name.”

“hi, little guy,” you pouted, scratching the back of his head.

“he must live nearby because he’s always here,” ellie told you. “he’s missing an eye, but he’s still cute, right?” she glanced over her shoulder.

you two were close. closer than a simple girl like ellie could handle. your perfume was all that she could smell, you were the only thing she could look at and her own heartbeat was the only sound she could hear.

“he’s the cutest,” you chuckled.

you stayed there for a couple more minutes. ellie told you about the first time she saw orange and you told her about the pets you had back home. it was such a sweet conversation, both of you using soft voices to not scare the cat away.

“alright, let’s go. i don’t want you being late to another class,” ellie told you as she stood up. “see you later, dude,” she waved at orange. surprisingly, the cat meowed back. “we’re best friends,” ellie jokingly bragged as both of you began to walk again.

“do you think he’ll accept me as a friend, too?”

“oh, absolutely. he loves you already.”

you ended up getting to class just in time, but you wouldn’t have cared if you were late. if it were for you, you would’ve skipped it just to keep hanging out with ellie.

“see you tomorrow, then?” you asked, hopeful.

“see you tomorrow,” ellie confirmed as she took a few steps back in your opposite direction, her eyes never leaving you until she fully turned around.

friday

it had been a while since you’d last chosen an outfit with someone in mind, wondering if they would like it. it took a while, but you finally settled on one. it was neatly laying on top of your bed.

“she’ll totally fall in love when she sees you in that,” blair’s voice cut through the silence, startling you.

“i’ve no idea who you’re talking about,” you obviously lied.

“maybe the girl you’ve been talking to me about since you met her?” blair guessed, “or is it the mysterious person who left you that note on monday?”

“it’s not weird that i still think about who could it be, is it?”

even if you had many other things to think about, the identity of the secret admirer, as blair had called them, was something that you were still curious about. it was difficult not to overthink every interaction you had with strangers, especially those who you’d catch staring or were friendlier than normal with you.

“are you kidding? if i were you, i would’ve asked every single person on campus if they knew anything about it,” she sat down on your bed, next to where your clothes were and handed them to you with a wink. “both ellie and the secret admirer will die when they see you tonight.”

a pathetic giggle escaped your lips on the way to the bathroom. you quickly changed into your chosen outfit, a rare feeling of exciment growing on inside you.

once you arrived at the party, you wasted no time and started looking for ellie. there were many familiar faces in the already drunken crowd, some of them even waved at you, but you didn’t even notice. between the lights and the loud music, you could barely pay attention to your own thoughts.

“what was she like again?” blair asked you, trying to help you find her.

“hot,” you replied, still scanning the room.

“right, thanks. that really helps.”

you laughed, “she’s—” your description was cut short when you suddenly locked eyes with her across the room. there was someone by her side, a girl who looked familiar but you couldn’t pinpoint where you knew her from. “she’s here.”

ellie leaned into her friend’s ear to say something, but her eyes never left yours. you tried to remain calm as you watched her walk towards you, looking annoyingly attractive.

“hey, there you are,” she greeted once she was close enough for you to hear her.

“hi! you came,” you beamed. “this is blair, my best friend. blair, this is ellie.”

“it’s really nice to meet you,” ellie shot a quick glance at your friend before glueing her eyes on you again.

knowing that that was her cue to leave, blair gave you a squeeze on your arm, “if you’ll excuse me, i have to go find my boyfriend. enjoy the party,” she wiggled her eyebrows at you before disappearing into the crowd.

“shouldn’t you call your friend over?” it was a genuine question, not wanting ellie to ditch the person she was with for you, but you also needed to know if she was really just a friend.

ellie looked over her shoulder and let out a chuckle, “i think she’s pretty busy.”

confused, you looked behind her. all of your doubts were cleared once you spotted her, she was making out with some girl.

she was definitely just a friend.

“oh,” you let out a short laugh. “good for her.”

ellie nodded at your words before looking back at you again. you were still distracted by the show ellie’s friend was giving and were completely oblivious to the spell you had put her under.

“you look really good,” she blurted out.

you broke into a sweet smile at the sudden compliment, “oh, thank you. you do too. really, really good.”

the fluttering of your heart made you want to burst into giggles, feeling extremely giddy. it was obvious how flustered you were, but seeing ellie in the same state as you made you feel slightly better. you would’ve never guess she’d be the type of person who blushes.

“wanna go for something to drink?”

you nodded at her question before reaching for her hand with the excuse of not losing each other on the way to the kitchen. ellie’s fingers quickly intertwined with yours as you started to lead the way. you offered many apologizes to the people who you accidentally bumped into, the place was absolutely packed and it was difficult to move. the kitchen was no different, you had barely any place to walk.

you grabbed two beer bottles and handed one to ellie, who looked a bit flushed from the previous interaction.

“next time someone doesn’t move after i say ‘excuse me’ i’ll just hit them on their ribs,” you furrowed your eyebrows. “where did they put the bottle opener?” you muttered to yourself, but ellie seemed to have heard you.

“here, let me help.”

you passed her the bottle and watched as she opened it against the table, taking the top off immediately.

“impressive,” you praised her before taking a sip. you grimaced at the taste.

ellie leaned back on the kitchen island, keeping her eyes on you. there was an amused smirk on her lips, “you don’t like it?”

“not really. i mean, it’s not like i hate it, but i only drink beer when there’s no other option,” you shrugged your shoulders. “i think there’s more to drink over there but there’s too many people and i don’t feel like getting trapped between sweaty drunk dudes.”

ellie swept her gaze over the kitchen before walking towards one of the many cabinets. “there’s gotta be something else in here,” she said as she opened every single door. “there it is!” ellie turned around and your eyes fell to her hands, she was holding a bottle of vodka. it was almost empty. “shots, anyone?” she offered.

a guy who was at the kitchen cheered, “hell yeah!”

ellie frowned, disgusted. “not you. go get your own bottle.”

a laugh escaped your lips at how disappointed the guy seemed to be, he immediately left after ellie’s words. “that was kind of mean,” you chuckled lightly.

ellie couldn’t tell you that she actually blew him off because of how shamelessly he checked you out the moment you entered the kitchen, so she just shrugged her shoulders. “he didn’t find it. open up,” she commanded you, placing a hand on your chin. you opened your mouth and felt how ellie poured the liquid down your throat.

“gross,” you wrinkled your nose. you grabbed the bottle from her hands and copied her action, softly grabbing her by her chin. she drank what was left of the vodka and you left the bottle on the counter behind her.

ellie smiled at you as she swiped her fingers across the corner of her lips. she gave you one last glance before walking past you. you watched her open more drawers and cabinets.

“psst, come here,” she called you over.

“what did you find?”

ellie looked around to check no one else was listening. you laughed at how secretive she was being. “look,” she whispered, she had found a box of chocolate covered strawberries. “shall we?” she offered, eyebrows up.

“absolutely,” you accepted, laughing. “but not here. let’s go to the balcony. it’s closed but i know where they keep the keys.”

ellie pushed herself off the table she was laying on and grabbed your hand, “i’ll lead this time, i know where it is.”

you stared down at your hands, blindly trusting her to guide you.

“how do you know where it is?”

“well, i kind of looked everywhere for you when i got here,” she admitted. “thought you stood me up.”

“sorry, i took forever to get ready,” you apologized, embarrassed.

“don’t worry, it was totally worth it,” ellie shot a quick glance at you as she said that, knowing it would mess you up. her personality changed from shy to flirty in a matter of seconds, so you didn’t really know what to expect of her.

you let out a sigh of relief once you were on the balcony, grateful for how muffled the people and music sounded from outside. “i remember why i haven’t gone out in months now,” you rolled your eyes.

“not a party girl, huh?” ellie let out a chuckle, leaning against the wall. she offered you a strawberry, which you gladly took.

“not lately,” you replied after taking a bite.

“so what made you go out tonight?”

you shrugged, “it was an impulse,” your answer was honest, but it was missing the rest of it.

because i wanted to see you again.

“it really helps you’re here, though,” you clarified. “actually, it doesn’t only help, you’re the only reason i’m enjoying this.”

“same here,” she smiled at you before looking up at the sky, she got lost in her thoughts for a moment before speaking up again. “it sucks that city lights don’t let us see the stars properly.”

you scoffed at her words, “i know, but hey, at least we have the moon,” you pointed at the satellite. “she never disappoints.”

there had been a few times were you felt as if the universe was on your side, somehow listening to you. that night was the moment you confirmed your theory because, coincidentally enough, the lights went off in what it seemed to be the entire city. a collective scream was heard from inside the apartment, along with multiple curses.

you took out your phone and turned on your flashlight, accidentally pointing it at ellie’s eyes.

“ow!” she let out, squinting her eyes. you couldn’t help but laugh, to which she complained.

“sorry, didn’t mean to blind you. especially now,” your excitement was enough to spark ellie’s curiosity.

“what do you mean?”

“come with me,” you grabbed her hand for the third time that day, knowing you’d miss doing that when the night came to an end. you still hadn’t gotten used to the weird, almost electric feeling that tingled in your palm whenever you touched her.

you guided her through the disappointed multitude, letting out apologies every now and then and also pushing those who didn’t move after you politely asked. you couldn’t blame them, though, they had used the darkness to their advantage and were shamelessly making out.

the air was ten times colder on the terrace than it was on the balcony, but neither of you cared because once you looked up you forgot about everything else. well, except maybe each other.

the view was completely breathtaking. without the light pollution, the sky looked straight out of a painting.

“it’s like looking straight at space,” you whispered, eyes sparkling with excitement. you had only seen the stars like that once in your life when you were a kid. it was as magical as you remembered, and the person you were sharing the moment with only made everything more special.

“i know,” ellie gazed at you before looking up again. “it blows my mind.”

as the night went on, you talked about many different things whilst laying on the floor; how your lives back home were, your friends, your families, favorite movies and songs and of course, with both of you being astronomy students, space-related stuff. you two were interested in each other’s point of view about everything, so you discussed many different subjects, enjoying the freedom to be incredibly nerdy about it.

“our lifespan is way too short. i mean, think about it. look at how many things have changed and advanced in only a hundred years. can you imagine how the world will change in, like, a thousand years?”

“maybe in fifty more years scientists will discover the key to immortality and we’ll be able to see everything,” ellie shrugged her shoulders. “or we could try to discover it ourselves once we graduate.”

you let out a laugh, “such an easy thing to do,” you sarcastically said. “i’m in, but maybe we could try with something easier, like, finding extraterrestrial forms of life, perhaps?”

“apparently, they are already here,” ellie pointed out.

you turned your head at her, “we’ll be the first to make friends with them, then. we’re pretty nice people, they’ll warm up to us.”

“deal,” she smiled at you, inevitably glancing at your lips for a second due to the proximity.

you kept enjoying each other’s company. there were moments in which neither of you spoke but, surprisingly enough, you didn’t care. even silence was fun with her.

neither of you had experienced a connection as strong as the one you had, especially in such a short amount of time. you didn’t question it, thought, it just made sense.

after a while, the power came back. the city was illuminated and the music from the party was back on. you two sat up, a little saddened that you couldn’t stargaze anymore.

“it was fun while it lasted,” you commented, ready to return to the apartment. you picked up the beer bottles from the floor, along with the empty box of chocolate strawberries.

“we can always go camping,” ellie suggested. “the sky will look even better than tonight.”

“i have zero survival skills, so you’d be in charge of everything. i can interest you with some random facts, though.”

“sounds good,” she laughed as she stood by the door and opened it, waiting for you to go inside first. the walk to the apartment was quiet, hating the fact the that night was coming to an end.

the loud music welcomed you again, people were even crazier after having to wait half an hour for the power to come back. it surprised you to see the same amount of people, apparently, none of them had left.

“i know it’s a friday night but, how the fuck has your friend managed to not get kicked out yet?” ellie leaned into your ear.

“this building is mostly occupied by other students, so they are probably at the party, too,” you explained, raising your voice a little so she could hear you.

everyone was euphorically dancing, making up for the lost time. you glanced at ellie before grabbing her hand and dragging her to the improvised dance floor. she instantly followed you, completely mesmerized.

“oh my god, there you are! i thought i was imagining things when i saw you earlier,” a familiar voice said from behind you. it was tara, you shared some classes and had been partners in a project once. “you look so good.”

“oh, hey, tara. this ell—”

“yeah, hi,” she interrupted you, only glancing at ellie for half a second. “could you walk me to the bathroom? i– i don’t know where it is and i feel pretty sick.”

your eyes flickered between the two girls. you obviously wanted to stay with ellie, but tara had put you in a really awkward position.

“uh…” you hesitated, “where are your friends?”

“they already left,” she frowned. “c’mon, babe, come with me? please.”

the nickname she used echoed in ellie’s mind.

“i can’t, i—”

“you should go. i should check on my friend, so…” ellie’s lips were in a straight line, but she forced a smile when you looked at her.

“why don’t you come with us?”

ellie would’ve agreed if she hadn’t seen the nasty look tara had given her. she wasn’t intimidated by her in the slightest, but the thought of being a burden and indirectly forcing you not to leave her alone was enough to let you go, even if she didn’t want to.

“no, really. i need to go see if she’s okay. i’ll find you later.”

you didn’t have time to respond, because you had already been dragged away from there. tara started chatting your ear off about stuff you didn’t care, you could only think about ellie.

“do you want me to call you an uber or something?” you asked her.

“why would i wanna leave?”

“you said you were sick and you’re pretty drunk, you should go home.”

“oh, no, silly. i live in this building, maybe you could walk me to my apartment?”

you refrained from rolling your eyes in front of her and realized that the sooner you got rid of her, the sooner you could go back to the girl you actually wanted to be with.

“c’mon, let’s go,” you said. on the way out you messaged blair to find ellie and tell her you’d be right back, to which she answered she was on it.

you took the elevator to her floor. you could tell tara wanted you to initiate a conversation by the way she was looking at you, but you couldn’t care less about her. she hadn’t noticed, apparently, because she started talking about god knows what as you walked behind her, completely zoned out.

“wanna come in?” she asked you once you were outside her apartment. her intentions were crystal clear but, as flattered as you were, you couldn’t help but feel completely uncomfortable.

“uh, no, thanks,” you awkwardly said.

“you sure? i’ve got—”

“yes, tara, i’m sure. i gotta go, i’m sorry. you’ll be okay, though, right? see you around,” you took a step back with each word you said, by the end of the sentence you were in front of the elevator. you heard tara let out a very confused ‘bye’ before the doors closed.

you impatiently tapped your foot against the floor, wondering why was the elevator taking so long. once you were back at the party you immediately searched for ellie, but she was nowhere to be found. instead, you saw blair, who had a worried look on her face.

“hey,” you approached her. “did you talk to ellie?”

“i couldn’t. i saw her leave with that girl she was with like a minute after you texted me,” she grimaced. “what happened? why were you with tara?”

you sighed, “i’m so stupid,” you groaned. “tara found me and she put me in this really difficult spot, so i had to walk her to her apartment because she was pretty fucking drunk and feeling very sick, or at least that’s what she told me, and i did it as fast as i could, but—”

“okay, okay. stop. why don’t you text ellie and—”

“i don’t have her number.”

“try instagram?”

“i tried finding her on instagram the same day i met her and i couldn’t,” you awkwardly confessed. “she probably thinks i blew her off for stupid tara.”

“hey, calm down. i’m sure you’ll see her soon.”

sadly, that soon never came. saturday, sunday, monday and tuesday went by painfully slow. there was no sight of ellie.

wednesday

you were a hopeless romantic, even if you didn’t admit it out loud. deep down, you knew that meeting ellie wasn’t a coincidence. it could’ve happened at any given moment due to being classmates, but it did when you needed it the most.

it was unexpected, but as said before, you felt as if sometimes the universe was on your side, listening to your deepest desires, the ones you didn’t know needed to be fulfilled.

you had never felt a connection as genuine as the one you had with her. everything seemed easy with her, making you feel you’d known her for longer than a week.

that doesn’t happen often, especially to you, so you would do anything in your power to fix things.

you were currently in physics class, counting down the minutes for it to end. you had to fight the urge to look at the back to see if ellie was there.

the thought of her being mad at you for practically abandoning at the party you invited her to made you sick. you also feared she didn’t care at all, which was a hundred times worse.

once the class ended you waited for her outside, trying to calm down your racing heart. the majority of students had already come out. you had just started to lose hope of seeing her when you finally heard her voice. she was saying goodbye to the professor.

“hi,” you nervously smiled when she was in front of you. her looking as good as always didn’t help you calm down at all. “i’ve been hoping to see you since friday. i wanted to apologize—”

“oh, you don’t have to do that. i get it. i saw you leave with that girl, tara, was it? it’s okay, you don’t have to explain anything—”

“no, no. i didn’t leave with her,” you clarified. “she wasn’t feeling good so she asked me to walk her to her apartment, which was in that same building, and i only did it to get rid of her. i know i sound like a major dick, but i wanted to go back to you as soon as possible,” you confessed, heart beating a hundred miles per minute.

“you did?” there was a smile hiding on her lips, you could tell by the tone she used. she was amused and obviously enjoyed seeing you flustered.

“yes, and i told blair to find you and tell you that i’d be right back, but when i did you had already left and i had no way of communicating with you, so…” ellie was quiet, so you continued. “i’m sorry.“

it felt like an eternity until she spoke again. “i’m sorry i left.”

“it’s not your fault,“ you mused. “it’s tara’s.”

“it so is,” ellie let out a chuckle. “i’ll fuck her up.”

you laughed, which made ellie’s stomach flip. both of you became numb to your surroundings as you stared into each other’s eyes, dumb smiles plastered on your faces.

“hey, about that paper that we have to do on electromagnetism. would you, maybe, uh, want to do it with me?”

“yes, i’d love to,” you grinned. “we could meet at the library tomorrow. do you have any classes in the morning?”

“just one, it ends at 10.”

“see you at 11?”

“yeah,” ellie nodded.

“oh, i almost forgot,” you said before taking out your phone. ellie curiously watched you type something before you handed it to her.

an adorable smile formed on her lips when she saw you were asking for her number. you had already typed in her name with the alien emoji next to it.

“thank you,” you mused when she gave your phone back to you. you instantly sent her a text so she could save your number on hers, too.

“see you tomorrow :)”

ellie looked up from her phone, mouth upturned. “see you then.”

tuesday

“the library’s closed,” ellie announced the moment she saw you.

the lights were turned off and there was a sign on the door that read ‘closed for reparations’.

“awh, man,” you complained. “why didn’t they tell us sooner—”

“actually, they did. i just checked and they sent us an email about a week ago, we just don’t check our inbox,” ellie interrupted you, grimacing.

“oh, our fault then,” you shrugged your shoulders. “um, maybe we could go to my dorm? i don’t have a roommate so nobody will bother us,” you offered.

“woah, i’d give everything to have my dorm all to myself,” she groaned, tilting her head back. “why don’t you have a roommate?”

you didn’t realize you had already started walking together, mindlessly leading the way to your dorm.

“i had one at the beginning of the semester, but then she dropped out or something. they told me i’ll probably get one next semester, so i’m enjoying it while it lasts,” you explained.

ellie huffed, “my roommate is a music producer. she’s pretty considerate but sometimes she has to listen to her songs without headphones,” she rolled her eyes. “i think i’m gonna find a job and move out to an apartment.”

“you totally should. i’d do it too if i were capable of balancing work and college,” you told her. “you’re welcome to stay at mine’s for as long as you want and whenever you want, by the way.”

“really?” she grinned. “you’re already asking me to live together? i haven’t even met your parents, yet.”

you rolled your eyes, a playful smile growing on your lips, “fine, my offer is off the table, then.”

“oh, no. now it’s too late. i’m moving in tomorrow morning.”

ellie spent the entire walk planning an itinerary for when she moved in with you, which basically consisted in eating breakfast together, go to class, come back and have lunch together, have more classes, come back and have dinner together then have a sleepover every night.

“sounds fun, huh?”

“super fun,” you chuckled as you opened the door for her. “guests first,” you stepped aside, inviting her in.

“hey, this is practically my dorm, too, now,” ellie joked, curiously looking around as she scratched the back of her neck. she was trying her hardest not to show how nervous she actually was, but the fluttering on her stomach made it really hard.

you were in the same state as her, trying not to freak out. your eyes discreetly checked every corner of the room, making sure everything was in order and there was nothing embarrassing laying around.

ellie chuckled to herself when she noticed the ceiling was decorated with a bunch of stickers that glowed in the dark. stars and planets were placed all over.

“i know they’re childish,” you wrinkled your nose, visibly cringing.

“are you kidding? i love them. these will be the first thing i’ll buy for my new place,” her gaze fell from the ceiling to your eyes, a genuine smile spreading across her lips.

ellie kept looking around your dorm, grabbing stuff that caught her attention. it was funny seeing her ask for permission each time, looking back at you and pointing at the object she wanted to check out.

you took out your laptop from your backpack and sat down on your bed. it immediately bummed you out when you remembered that you had to do an assignment and weren’t just hanging out for fun.

“i’m gonna create a google drive file so we can both edit it later in case we don’t finish it today,” you informed her.

“yeah, that’s a good idea,” ellie replied, focused on a bracelet she had found on your desk. then, she continued snooping around your things, sometimes mumbling cool and i’m going to borrow this.

you checked the questions you had to answer and immediately sighed, “i’m completely lost.”

“want me to explain it to you?” she offered and you obviously accepted. ellie looked at the big whiteboard behind her and grabbed a marker from your desk. “okay, so you know that the earth’s core is mainly composed of liquid in the outer core and solid iron in the inner core?”

you tried your hardest to keep your attention on what she was saying, but the task turned impossible. her voice sounded muffled and you could only focus on how good she looked. you let out a few yeahs and rights when you thought it was appropriate, but the truth was that you didn’t know what the hell she was talking about.

“and this field has existed for at least three billions years, which is nuts, right?” you ears managed to make out of all the things she was saying. you saw how she laughed, clearly enjoying talking about the subject. you probably would too if you could be capable of actually listen and process what she was saying.

you watched as she continued to write and draw stuff on the board at the same time she explained something to you, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off of her.

“that’s about it, got it?” she asked, turning around.

“uh…” you let out, not being capable of forming an actual sentence.

ellie chuckled, amused, “you alright?”

“yes, it’s just—”

“was there something you didn’t understand? i can go over it again,” ellie kindly offered, but you could hardly hear her over the loud beating of your heart.

you weren’t really planning to, but you stood up. it was as if you were on autopilot, there was something else controlling your body and you couldn’t do anything to stop it. you walked closer to ellie, who looked confused.

“if i’m being honest, i didn’t listen to a word you said,” you confessed, smiling guiltily. “i swear i tried to, but there was something else on my mind.”

“what’s that?” ellie asked in a whisper, eyes scanning your face. you were extremely close to her.

“i don’t think i can go another minute without kissing you,” you softly confessed, looking up into her eyes. her pupils were dilated and a light blush had started to color her cheeks.

“no one is stopping you,” she replied, wholly captivated by you.

not even a second later, you crashed your lips into hers. ellie joyfully giggled, but that didn’t stop her from hungrily kissing you back. her hands found their way up to the sides of your face while yours ended up tangled in her hair.

ellie broke the kiss first, but your lips were still touching. “i’m still deeply disappointed you didn’t listen to my physics lesson.”

“i’m sorry,” you chuckled. “i heard some parts, you were great. i learned a lot.”

ellie smiled before leaning in again, bringing you impossibly closer to her as she gave you a breathtaking kiss. you melted against her, already eager for the kiss to end just so you could do it over and over again.

“this would’ve happened sooner if it weren’t for tara,” ellie joked, reaching over to grab your hand.

“i’ll kill her next time i see her,” you were standing so close to each other that you replied with a whisper.

ellie frowned, “you’re not seeing her again.”

“oh? i would’ve never guessed you were the jealous type,” you teased her, placing your arms on her shoulders again and bringing her even closer to you. ellie looked even better than before. her lips were reddened, her hair was a mess and her eyes had become even more hypnotic.

you could’ve stayed admiring her for hours, but a glance over her shoulder was all it took for you to wake up from your trance. you walked past her to take a closer look at the whiteboard she had used. it wasn’t what she had written that caught your attention, but the handwriting itself. it looked incredibly familiar.

your mind quickly came up with a crazy theory, which ellie’s expression confirmed the moment you looked back at her.

“you were the one who left me that note on my door?”

ellie’s confident and teasing demeanor was long gone. she looked panicked. her heartbeat accelerated significantly and she felt as she was running out of air.

“oh my god,” your mouth fell agape, a smile creeping up on your lips. “you did!”

she covered her face with her hands, letting out a groan, “you weren’t supposed to know that.”

“why?”

“it’s embarrassing! we didn’t even know each other when i did it. it’s weird—”

“it’s sweet!”

“it’s weird,” she repeated, not being able to look at you.

you smiled fondly at her, reaching for her hand and giving her a squeeze, “it really helped me, you know? it was as if you knew i needed it.”

ellie grimaced, “well, i actually kind of did…”

“what do you mean?”

she sat down on your bed, making you sit next to her. you didn’t let go of her hand. instead, you played with her fingers in an attempt to calm her down.

“i visited my friend that day, her dorm is across the hall. i was just about to leave when i saw you coming. i panicked, so i hid and accidentally overheard what you were saying to your friend,” she admitted. “i meant what i wrote. i’ve thought that way about you ever since i first saw you. it seemed like the perfect moment to tell you, at least indirectly.”

“but why didn’t you tell me in person? or at least, talked to me sooner.”

“i’m not as brave as i look and you’re fucking intimidating.”

you let out a laugh in disbelief, “me, intimidating? look at you!”

“no, look at you. you’re way to beautiful for me to just come up to you and tell you that. who could have the guts?”

“oh my god, shut up,” you hid your face in your hands, feeling how your heart fluttered like crazy at her words.

“i couldn’t tell you after we began talking, either. we were just getting to know each other, it would’ve been weird,” ellie stared down at your intertwined hands. “it’s still kind of weird,” she mumbled more to herself than for you to hear.

not being able to take it anymore, you succumbed to the urge of throwing yourself at her, leaving many kisses all over her face. the sound of her laugh made the butterflies in your stomach to fly all over the place.

“you’re the sweetest girl i’ve ever met.”

“don’t say that about me. i have a reputation to maintain,” she jokingly rolled her eyes. “so, be honest, you don’t think it was weird?”

“of course not. i think it was fate.”

“fate?”

“wait here.”

you quickly walked over to your desk where you had left your phone. you immediately searched for the picture you had taken of her last tuesday and almost ran to show it to her.

“is that me?” ellie grabbed the phone from your hands and zoomed in the picture.

“yup,” you nodded. “this was the day before we first talked. i was taking pictures of orange and you appeared, out of nowhere. you looked as you’d beat the person who dared to speak to you,” a laugh escaped your lips. “i thought about for the rest of the day and hoped to see you again, and guess what? i did. see? it was fate.”

ellie warmly smiled, she caressed your cheek with her fingers before bringing you closer to give you the softest kiss ever given, “i guess it was.”

[astroph1les]

hitting all the bases [h.c]

summary: after coming back for good from college, you catch up with your old school friends. hazel, your old crush and good friend, informs you that she’s a professional baseball player now. old feelings return and this time, you’ll be scoring. you’re sure of it.

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: mature language and content, smut — oral (hazel receiving), fingering (r!receiving), light choking (r!receiving), praise, locker room sex, baseball player!hazel, fwb trope, isabel & josie being readers parents.

word count: 4.3K

a/n: im so sorry for posting this so late at night but i just had to share it. i sincerely apolgize if anything is wrong because i’m not a baseball fanatic. i hope you all enjoy. thank you <3

You had been across states at university for the past nine months. You didn’t expect all of your friends from high school to be so excited to see you. It warmed your heart to know that they had set up and planned a ‘welcome home’ party.

Isabel, PJ, Josie, Brittany, Stella-Rebbeca, and Hazel had talked to your parents a week before your arrival day to decorate your house full of banners, balloons, snacks, and alcohol for you. You were elated with the overwhelming sound of fanfare and party poppers as you walked through the front door.

Of course, you hugged everyone in a tight and kind hug. You quickly ran to your room to change as you were in sweatpants and a plain shirt from the flight back. You didn’t want to socialize in clothes that had been clinging to your body for hours on end.

After you had gotten changed into a much more fitting outfit, you began to socialize with everyone.

Isabel and Josie were going on three years of being together, very happily which warmed your heart. Brittany gushed about how her jewelry business had been skyrocketing since your past leaving and offered to show you some pictures of her latest designs later. Stella was now hosting a self-defense class for women due to her stalker situation and PJ was working with Stella.

As you conversed with Hazel, you realized how she had only been getting more and more attractive as the years had gone by. Her hair was still that same mullet-rocker length and her sharp features only reignited that childhood crush you had on her in middle school.

When she had told you that she was in the National Baseball League, you swear you felt your panties dampen. Very briefly did you remember her interest in the sport in high school but didn’t think much of it then.

Everyone was already either tipsy or drunk, you and Hazel included. The two of you had made your way into your kitchen to grab some more of the margarita mix. The rest of the girls were blasting songs through your speakers on the TV.

“You know, I have a game this Sunday. You should come.” Hazel tilted her head as she held the solo cup in her ring-cladded fingers, taking a sip without her eyes leaving yours.

You sensed a flirty tone in her voice, cheeks heating up as you didn’t want to read too into it. You blamed it on the amount of alcohol for both your horniness and flushed cheeks.

“Of course, I’ll be there, Haze. I wouldn’t miss it.” You reach forward to place a gentle hand on her free one, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Guys, we’re doing shots!” Isabel stumbles in between you both to interrupt your conversation, the hold on both of your hands tightening. “Welcome back, babe!”

Isabel screeched at you over the sound of the blasting music to grab onto your free arm, giggling to herself. You send Hazel a soft smile before tugging her hand in yours.

“C’mon. It’s shot time.” You bite your lip as she chugs down whatever is in her cup to set it down on your kitchen counter.

Hazel followed you and Isabel, keeping her hand in yours. Anyone in your friend group would’ve seen that and brushed it aside as you and Hazel simply being the best ‘gal pals’. They had no idea how horny you were for her at that very moment.

Everyone gathered around the living room coffee table, an assortment of different colored clear shot plastic glasses. Hazel turned to you and wrapped your arms around each other, downing each other’s shots. A new intense form of eye contact that had never been exchanged between the two of you before.

Something enticing. Something you had to explore.

You didn’t see Hazel again the rest of the week. There was this yearning in your stomach at the thought of her. You would be a lying son of a bitch too if you hadn’t gotten off to her every night since then. Something in your heart and soul told you that you needed more than anything than to just fuck her.

You knew you had to fuck her brains out.

When Josie and Isabel had picked you up from your house on the way to Hazel’s game, you got wide eyes and stares from the couple.

“What?” You huffed out a laugh as you tugged open the backseat door, sticking your head into the car.

“Nothing. You look good.” Isabel grinned, eyes looking you up and down.

Maybe you wore the least amount of clothing possible to seduce Hazel before the game. You sported a cami and a pair of shorts that matched with her team's color. Yes, it was the lowest you could ever tug down a cami and yes, you weren’t wearing a bra. Your hair was styled into two French braids tied with ribbons of her team's colors at the end to keep the weight off of your neck.

“Oh, thanks, Bel.” You return the smile, reaching into your small purse that was tossed over your shoulder and applying a small amount of gloss to your lips.

There’s an unspoken tension in the air when they begin to drive off to the stadium. The soft sound of Livin’ On A Prayer hummed through the speakers of Josie’s car, you repeatedly checking your reflection.

There was a small part of you that was a bit nervous to initiate this. You had hooked up with a few girls in college but you were never going to see them again. You tried to not overthink as Josie started up a conversation between you and Isabel.

“So, you’ve never been to one of Hazel’s games?” Josie questioned, eyes flickering to the rearview mirror.

“Nope. Is she any good?” You ask them both, raising your eyebrows.

“Oh, she’s the best pitcher on the team,” Isabel adds, motioning to nothing in particular. “You should see how many girls absolutely drool over her during the game. Since she got recruited, she has become a gay awakening for so many women across the state.”

This made sense in your head, in all honesty. You are one of those women that Hazel had made a mentally permanent imprint on.

“Oh, yeah,” Josie added, nodding her head along with her girlfriend's words. “A lot of flashing too. PJ has to be physically restrained.”

You snort at her words, not doubting that whatsoever.

“Hazel hasn’t, like, been seeing anyone, right?” You slowly question as Josie makes her way to exit the highway to the stadium.

Isabel glanced at Josie before turning her head completely to look at you from the passenger's seat.

“Not that I know of. Babe?” Isabel turned to Josie who just shrugged in response.

You nod to yourself, checking your reflection one last time. Josie was finally pulling into the stadium’s parking lot entrance, paying for the entrance fee before going into a section that was reserved for certain guests: aka you and your friends as you were Hazel’s special guests.

Walking into the stadium, you were immediately met with what Josie and Isabel were talking about. You spotted many women — with a few select men — with Callahan jerseys and tops with her number plastered onto the back.

“C’mon. We get to sit near the dugout.” Josie motioned for you to follow her and Isabel.

Their hands were locked as followed behind the pair, glancing around. It had been quite the turnout for the game. You weren’t really that much of a ‘sports’ person. It’s not that you hated sports or anything like that. You were just never able to find the excitement behind it.

You were however much of a Hazel person.

“Did you want anything to eat before we go and sit?” Isabel turned her head to ask you as they were passing the array of small shops of food.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” You nod as your eyes spot the nachos on the bright light-up menu.

So, Isabel and Josie, after you had repeatedly insisted that you could pay, bought you your nachos and a large water bottle because of the heat. You rushed after them once you three heard the crowd start to go wild. You noticed on the multitude of screens that it was the teams getting into formation.

You make sure to keep a good grip on your plastic tray as you make your way past sweat-glistened fans. Isabel had grabbed onto your free hand to make sure you were right behind her as you made your way down the stairs to the area right behind the dugout.

There sat Brittany, Stella, and PJ all in the same sort of attire. Either Hazel’s jersey or colors to match the teams with a pair of jean shorts or pants.

“Hey guys!” You shout over the blasting music, waving at everyone.

They all reply back with smiles and holding their own snacks and beverages. You lean down to each of your friends to kiss them on the cheek, muttering ‘hello’ and ‘hi’. PJ stared directly at your chest, her ‘hi’ being distracted.

“In a totally respectful and non-dehumanizing and non-sexual way, you look hot as fuck.” You hear PJ tell you as you scoot over to say ‘hi’ to Stella.

You chuckle and shake your head. “Thanks, PJ.”

“Yeah, you look so good.” Stella gasps as she reaches to touch at the ribbons in your hair. “These are so cute.”

“Thanks, Stell.” You blush at the attention before making your way to Brittany.

Her hair was up in a ponytail, sunglasses rested on her nose and an ICEE in hand. She kissed your cheek as well, patting your back with a sigh.

“Britt, you okay?” You ask, releasing Isabel’s hand.

“Yeah, I just… hate the heat.” She groans and tilts her head up to expose her glistening neck.

You frown at her words before rummaging through your purse. You pull out a mini fan with a small spritz container that you had bought ages ago. Brittany tilts her sunglasses down to look at the device in your palms and groans even louder out of relief.

“Girl, thank you. I am actually sweating bullets and it’s not even cute glowing at this point.” Brittany kisses your cheek once more before grabbing the travel-sized fan.

“You’re welcome. Don’t overuse it or it’ll die quickly.” You pat her overheating shoulder once before making your way to sit right next to Josie.

Your eyes were darting from player to player, trying to spot Hazel. There, on the pitchers’ mound, she stood with a mitt covering one hand and a baseball in the other. She had eye black sitting underneath her deep blue glare, looking straight ahead at the batter that was at home plate.

Her jaw was moving slightly and you assumed it was chewing gum. You were focused more on her sharp jawline than the actual game. You watch her change her form to get ready to pitch, raising one leg before releasing the red-stitched ball right at the batter to maneuver right into the umpire's mitt.

The crowd cheers at that alone, the girls and you included. Hazel had an incredibly strong arm and aim from what you could tell. Everyone there was obsessed with her. You kind of felt bad for the other players on the team.

You were pretty zoned out which you know was not the best thing to do but again, you weren’t interested in the sports. You wanted how Hazel’s veins were practically popping from the back of her hands, her mean stare at whatever batter from the opposing team was up next.

It shouldn’t have made you as aroused as it did.

The score had been neck in neck before Hazel hit and ran the winning home run. The stadium erupted into cheers as you watched her run into her teammates’ arms, shouting and cheering herself. You stood up and screamed along with the rest of the girls, Josie turning to you and grasping onto your hands and squeezing them.

“Hell fucking yeah!” Josie shouted, causing you to laugh but match her enthusiasm.

After you watched as both teams went underneath the bleachers to what you assume were the locker rooms. You stood up carefully, smoothing down your top and grabbing your now empty tray of nachos.

“Where are you going?” Isabel questioned as you began to walk away.

Oh right. Other people can see you.

“I’m going to throw this away and go to the bathroom. I’ll be quick.” You reassure her, smiling kindly and nodding at everyone.

They all glanced at each other before all asking if you wanted them to come with you. On any other normal day, you would’ve happily said yes but these were different circumstances.

You were trying to fuck Hazel.

“No, no, no, guys. I-I’ll be okay. Text me if you guys need anything or you’re leaving.” You tell them and wave with a big smile.

You practically ran to the ‘bathroom’, maneuvering between the crowds of people to the security that was blocking the entryway to the backstage and locker room area. The bald man held a hand out as you approached with determination, a hand on his belt with his walkie-talkie and gun holster.

“Ma’am, this is a restricted area.” He shakes his head.

“No, I know. Hazel Callahan is a close friend of mine and she asked me to see her.”

His brows furrowed as he grabbed his walkie-talkie to tune into the feed.

“Hey, Brian. You got the list for Callahan's VIP guest list?” He asked through the mini speaker.

You sigh as you wait for the ‘okay’, looking at him impatiently. Without fail, he was given your name and unhooked the barrier to let you through. You make your way down the narrow hallways, following the signs to the locker rooms.

Your eyes found the women’s sign and gradually pushed the door open. You peeked your head into the locker room, glancing around to see if you could find Hazel between the bright blue metal.

You carefully walk into the room, shutting the door behind you. You hear a shower faucet shut off, followed by feet pattering.

“Hazel? Are you decent?” You called out into the space, your voice echoing slightly.

A second passes before you hear your name followed by; “yeah. Just follow my voice.”

You eventually find her about fifteen locker rows down and god, you could cum right there and then.

“Hey Haze,” you grin as you spot her in a wife-pleaser with a pair of boxer briefs in the locker room.

Hazel had a towel around her neck, rubbing at the back of her head to try her freshly washed hair. Your mind was running wild at the sight of her nipples peeking through the thin fabric. You were leaning against the dark blue lockers just a few feet away from her.

“Oh, hey,” she copied your grin, eyes following to the entrance of the locker room right behind you. “Is it just you?”

You hum with a nod, hands clasped behind your back as you slowly approach her.

“Yeah, I, uh, said I was going to the bathroom but I just wanted to see you,” you admit carefully.

You weren’t entirely sure if her sexual feelings matched yours. You were fighting every filthy urge to grab her and kiss her until you couldn’t breathe.

“Little ol’ me?” Hazel replied as she, too, began to walk over to you with a cheeky smile.

That fucking smile that drove you insane.

“Yeah, you.” You leaned in closer to her, now nearly face-to-face with the blue-eyed beauty.

“Ah, well,” she smacked her lips, crossing her arms over her chest. “So, did you enjoy the game?”

“Yeah, you were really good, Haze. I see why your fan base is so crazy about you.” You tease as you are now resting your back against the cold lockers.

Hazel’s brows rose at the word ‘fan base’ which causes you to let out a chuckle mixed with a scoff.

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know how the majority of women here are dropping their panties and flashing the entire stadium for you.” You quip, mimicking her eyebrow raise.

Hazel looked down as she pursed her lips and she held back a smug smirk. If you held your breath, you could hear the pattering of feet coming from above from the hundreds of feet leaving the stadium.

“Would you be in that majority, honey?”

Hazel’s words take a minute to process in your head before a blush floods from the tips of your ears to the depths of your stomach. Your eyes widened slightly at her question, deciding on how you should answer.

You were now 100% sure that she wanted you too.

“Oh, sorry. You missed it but I did flash homeplate earlier.” You shrugged your shoulders but a teasing smile was left lingering on your lips.

“Oh, so, I guess you wouldn’t mind giving me a more private show,” Hazel quipped back, now centimeters from your face.

Your eyes flicker down to Hazel’s cupid's bow then back to her eyes that seemed to be drinking you in from head to toe. Growing impatient as ever, you hooked two fingers into her chain before tugging her into you. Your lips found hers with ease, her gasping at the pressure from the metal digging into the back of her neck.

Her hands greedily gripped onto your hips as you released her chain to rest your forearms onto her shoulders. You suck in a deep breath against her lips as her hands practically shoved your aching hips into the cold metal behind you.

“You know how long I’ve wanted you, pretty girl?” Hazel pulled away to whisper against your lips.

“You have me now, Haze.” Your hands brush against the hairs resting at the nape of her neck, a slight whimper in your words.

Hazel leans her head into the crook of your neck, kissing at the pulse point of your skin. You arch your back off the heavy lockers as you grip her slightly damp shoulders. Her lips suck and nibble at the skin before trailing back up to your slick lips.

“These are cute,” she cockily grins as she takes one hand from your hip to twirl her finger at the end of one of your pigtails.

You flush when she gives it a gentle tug, her smug grin growing. Did you let out a moan when she did that? You had assumed you did as Hazel muttered, ‘kinky’, before kissing you once again.

“Hey, hey, Haze?” You rushed out your words.

Hazel only hummed back placing a multitude of kisses across your flushed cheeks all the down to your heaving chest. Her hands reached underneath your top to grip your bare breasts.

“Haze, we really gotta hurry,” you heaved out as her lips were grazing right above your tits as she swiped her thumbs over your nipple.

“I hear you, honey.”

Her hands began to tug down your annoyingly sexy skirt, looking at you for confirmation as her fingers traced the waistband of your soft blue cotton panties. You nod eagerly, whimpering a desperate ‘please’.

Your skirt was now at your ankles which you stepped out of. You kicked it off to the side mindlessly as you watched Hazel dig her fingers into the waistband of your panties.

“Open your mouth for me, baby,” Hazel instructs, her free hand creeping up to your mouth.

You obey greedily and allow her middle ring finger to slip into your mouth. She groans softly as you suck at her digits, locking eyes with her seductively.

“Fuck me,” she mutters at the sight of you.

It was obscene how gorgeous you looked like this.

She suddenly removed her fingers from your mouth causing you to whimper at the loss. Her hand that had been in your mouth was now teasing through your already wet and puffy folds. You roll down onto her fingers, feeling desperate for her touch.

You both were still face to face but your gaze was nowhere on hers. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly as she teased your entrance with her middle finger, eyes focused on your reactions.

“There we go, honey.” She praised your hips rocking, kissing at your jaw.

“Fuck, Haze,” you moan softly, jerking your head back so hard that it thumped against the lockers.

You couldn’t believe how amazing her fingers were. You daydreamed and late-night wet dreamed about it but nothing could compare to the feeling of her fingers curling and hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

Your whines were growing higher in pitch as you were already reaching orgasm. You had felt like you were edging yourself all day so this very moment was extremely overwhelming. With her lips nipping at your neck and jaw and her praises filling your ears, you were bound to cum soon.

“You really are fucking perfect, baby. These hips, this pretty pussy, god.” Hazel’s free hand was gripping onto your lower jaw.

Something deep within you caused you to reach for her wrist and slide it more down onto your throat. She instantly caught on and very lightly squeezed the sides of your windpipe, watching your eyes roll before shutting completely.

“I didn't think you’d be into choking,” Hazel teased as she gave your throat one more squeeze.

“Me neither.” You pant with a loud moan when Hazel begins to pick up her pace.

Your walls clench down onto her rapid fingers, aching for a release. You were surprised no one had been coming to check on either of you but you were entirely grateful.

“Is my pretty girl gonna come for me?” Hazel whines back, almost mocking your desperation for her.

You shouldn’t have been as turned on as you were by that.

You grab at her shoulders and rut your hips down onto her fingers. The pressure was building, running up your spine to the tip of your head that was now turning into mush.

“Please, please, Haze. I wanna cum all over your fingers.” You ramble out, feeling like you weren’t in control of your mouth.

Hazel’s lips graze over your own, panting heavily into your mouth. Sweat was forming at the crevice between your hips and your thighs as you continued to chase after her fingers, begging to cum.

“That’s it. That’s it, baby,” Hazel coos as your whines grow in volume.

Your orgasm arrived quickly, pressing your lips onto hers to try and conceal how loud your moans were. Your head was so clouded with lust and post-orgasm haze that you had completely forgotten the point of this.

You wanted to make Hazel cum.

“Haze,” your hands fly to her wrist to pause her movements. She does as she’s told and removes her touch from you. “I wanna make you feel good.”

Hazel followed your command and raised a hand to trace your reddening lip. You take her fingers that were covered in your arousal, sucking them off eagerly. Your chest was heaving rapidly as you eagerly reached for her hips, eyes locking with the bench that was only a few inches from the two of you.

“Let’s switch, c'mon.” You pressed yourself off the lockers to grab at her hips.

You shove her gently against the cool metal, eyes raking up and down her frame hungrily. Your eyes never leave hers as you begin to lower yourself down onto your knees. Hazel’s chest was panting, muttering curses as your fingers hooked onto her briefs to tug them down her toned thighs.

“How much longer do you think we have?” You questioned softly, placing feather-like kisses onto the skin.

“I really couldn’t care less.” Hazel huffed with a chuckle.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be quick,” you reassure her before locking your eyes on her exposed cunt.

You dive in without any hesitation, lapping your tongue through her folds. Hazel responds by gasping softly and resting both of her palms on either side of your head. You shut your eyes as you take in this moment that you’ve wanted for so long.

“Jesus, baby,” Hazel gasps as your tongue slips into her entrance.

Your motions pick up and slow down to tease her, a cocky smile creeping onto your lips. You continued to eat her out like you were a starved woman, your hands caressing up and down from her outer thigh to her upper torso.

You sucked on her clit, eyes locked on her dropped jaw and panting figure. Hazel wasn’t as vocal as you were but her groans and soft ‘fucks’ were enough to keep your pace.

“Keep doing that, baby. I’m so— fuck!— close.”

You eagerly obeyed her words, humming softly as you felt her grip on your hair tighten. Her hips roll down onto your tongue, faint curses leaving her puffy pink lips. They begin to stutter as her orgasm flows over her body, her cum dripping onto your tongue and lips.

Yes, your jaw was aching and your knees were on fire from the porcelain tile digging into your skin but seeing Hazel cum was more than worth it.

It was beautifully erotic.

Her damp hair framed her sharp and flushed features as she arched her back off of the lockers as she came all over your tongue. You slow your tongue as she rides out her orgasm, carefully removing your lips from her pulsating core.

You rose to your feet shakily. Hazel helped as her hands found her naked waist to keep you steady. You giggle to yourself as you press your lips to hers, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“So, how was the private show?” You hum as you lean back slightly to allow her to respond.

“I think I could get used to getting some more private shows from you, pretty girl,” Hazel pressed a few pecks onto your cheeks before capturing your lips onto hers.

Boy, were you grateful for locker rooms.

tag list: @intotitties @rubygtb @dropsofs4turn @beabeebrie @maroonkisses @toritea @that-one-little-soybean @cherryflavoured7777 @vster0769

[doe-eyed-and-desperate]

You know what time it is (you literally don’t)

Anywhooo

Little bit of something from my searches

https://www.tumblr.com/mouth-rot/165649158276/artist-monstersholdingbitches-mhb-submitted

Like godddd imagine going on a camping trip in cabin by yourself just for some down time or maybe after a stressful breakup and you meet the camp ranger and they seem like super nice kind and understanding, even going as far as to drop some stuff off in your cabin from time to time whenever you called them so it just seemed natural for you to tell him where the spare key, (you wouldn’t want the wildlife getting into your stuff now would you.) After deciding to go out you return a tad bit drunk you had a few drinks at the bar nothing to heavy of course but it does help you decide to take a little nap which makes it all the more easier for your little friend to come in…..

Anyways just a thought I’ve been thinking about 🥰

Also I’ll be for sure gone for the next week so no thoughts for me 😔

-🩰/🎀

My brain forgot with one you chose sorrryy

Anon, you, you wonderful person, you're helpin my motivation so much<3

We will all mourn your absence😔✊

Life had gotten far too stressful as of late, so, you decided to go stay in a cabin alone for some solace. Planning to spend a day or two in nature, read bit, maybe even draw some.

After a bit of a drive you reach the point where you can no longer use your car and have to walk the path. You hop out of your car, opening the trunk to grab your bag and when you turn around you nearly get a heart attack as a park ranger stands behind you.

"Jesus christ!" you exclaim, putting your hand over your heart and laughing slightly at yourself.

"Sorry about that sweetheart, didn't mean to scare yah" He grins, "I reckon you're the one here for the cabin? Considering it's been rainin' for the past few days the paths all washed out, so if you don't mind, It'd be my pleasure to walk yah to the cabin." He offers, reachin his arm out slightly, silently asking to help you with your bags.

"Are you sure? Don't wanna bother you" You reply, secretly hoping he'll continue insisting.

"Course I don't mind darlin', it's my job to make sure everyone who comes stays safe and happy, that includes you." He deepens his voice at the end, bendin over slightly, straight up showin off how much bigger he is than you.

And who are you to refuse such an offer?

On the trail he tells you about the history of these woods and some nature facts. Then, he gets to the real interesting stories, detailing the old legends about these parts. They were all fun to listen to, but the ones that stuck out to you the most were about the werewolf that's claimed to roam the forest.

You finally get to the cabin and he puts your bag inside, stoping at the door as you walk in, waiting to see if you'd invite him. You turn around and look at him for a moment, deciding he's nice enough you smile an tell him if he has the time he's more than welcome inside.

He stays for a while before claimin he has obligations, giving you his phone number just incase you "need anything." The minute he leaves you book this cabin for a few extra days, there is no shot you're giving this man up. After that he routinely comes to your cabin when he has the time, always sitting close to you, putting a hand on your thigh, catchin him staring at you.

One night he comes late, you had a few drinks before he arrived, not expecting him and were a bit tipsy, but you let him in nonetheless. He notices immediately and subtly feeds you a few more drinks and soon you're tellin him that you're just going to close your eyes for a minute. He smiles gently, helping you up the stairs and into the bed, tucking you in and even kissing your forehead.

You wake up with a small headache, keeping your eyes closed as though that would help. Furrowing your eyebrows, your body keeps moving up and down slowly, and you for sure aren't the one moving it. Eyes still bleary from sleep, you blink a few times, finally coming to your senses and realizing you're being fucked. You start panicking, as you see a massive wolf is responsible for this. Somehow, you don't question it at the moment, to busy hitting it's chest, which only serves for him to growl and pin your hands down.

"S'alright, love, it's just me" You blink in surprise, recognizing the voice as the park ranger's. Then it hits you, he's the werewolf he told you stories about, no wonder they glorified him so much. You start to calm down, trying to rationalize all of this. I mean sure, its fucked up that he's takin advantage of you, and he's literally a werewolf, but god it's really hard to care when his massive cock is driving deep inside you anytime you try to conjure a thought.

So, you let yourself enjoy it, not caring about anything you really should. Moaning along with him, clenching around his cock, and baring your throat to him. He growls again, louder this time and bites into your neck, licking at the wound when he unlatches. You feel yourself getting closer to the edge, and when you cry out that you're about to cum, he starts truly fucking you. Slamming his fat dick in you over and over, you cum which makes him groan. Giving one last thrust, he fills your womb with an unreal amount of cum.

After a minute you start coming down from the high of your orgasm, blinking slowly, you feel his knot beginning to stretch your cunt wider. He shushes and comforts you while you whimper at the slight pain, but it quickly stops hurting and he flips you over. Now resting on his chest, tucking your head into his neck you fall asleep with his fat knot still in you.

[babydollmarauders]

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (23-24 SZN PART 15)

au masterlist

notes: pretty short but i just wanted to get this out so that i can move on and be ready for the next game tomorrow!

y/ndevils00

liked by dawson1417, nicohischier, and 286,402 others

y/ndevils00 a solemn hello to you all! welcome back to my postgame recap!

as some of you may have noticed, i took a bit of a break and did not cover the game against the Blues, hawks, or avalanche! as you’re all probably well aware, my beautiful, clumsy ass boyfriend lost an edge during the first of the Blues game which resulted in a shoulder injury. after some serious persuasion from both me and coach woof, who i’m pretty sure just wanted me off the trip in general… how rude, the Devils management graciously allowed me to return back to Jersey with my dumbass (affectionate) to be his in-home nurse!

i did keep up with my real job through watching the games on tv— did you guys know that Nico and Jack scream at the tv a lot during games? no? well now you do! — but i took a minor break from your regularly scheduled recaps in order to focus on my ailing boyfie.

so for the next few weeks, i will be doing any road game recaps from the comfort of my own (Jack and Luke’s) home! with one exception for a game of which i will not be disclosing at this point in time!

tonight your not so mighty Devils lost 2-4 to the D.C. dwellers— so that wasn’t fun to witness!

i spent most of my time this game in the press box with my aforementioned dumbass, my slut, and my new uncle Miller that we acquired during this past summer solstice. (see: slide 4)

this game, we got a goal from Meier Meier pants on fire, and of course, my very own bestie number 1, DAWSON MERCER!!! which makes his 2nd of the season after he got his very first of the season in my missed recap game against the hawks!

i’m so so SO proud of you tonight puppy!! you did so well!! you’re gonna do great things, sweetie!!

dear idiot number 2, you played well tonight and i guess i’m proud of you…. ya know, despite the penalty and the massive L we took… continue shining, supernova!

tagged john.marino97, dougieham, jackhughes, nicohischier, colinmiller1029, lhughes_06, tmeier96

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john.marino97 2 photos… everyone else got 1 penalty photo and you choose TWO of me?

y/ndevils00 excuse me, do i need to take back my last paragraph? because i will if you’re gonna be an ungrateful rat

john.marino97 no, i’m sorry, thank you and i love you

y/ndevils00 that’s what i thought

user28 WE NEED JACK AND NICO BACK 😭

jackhughes can i request another nurse? maybe one that doesn’t call me a dumbass?

y/ndevils00 no <3

y/ndevils00 i call you MY dumbass, and you know it’s all love, my dumbass!

jackhughes so i’m stuck with you, huh?

y/ndevils00 forever and ever and ever and ever 🥰

jackhughes oh fun!

y/ndevils00 i know!

john.marino97 @/y/ndevils00 he was being sarcastic

y/ndevils00 @/john.marino97 oh, thank you personal sarcasm detector

y/ndevils00 YOU LOVE ME, STOP ACTING TOUGH ON THE INTERNET

colinmiller1029 i know i’m still new to this but, uncle?

dawson1417 any guy over 30 is her uncle, it’s the rules. you can’t question it and you can’t deny it, you just roll with it!

colinmiller1029 @/dawson1417 oh, okay. got it.

colinmiller1029 proud to be an uncle!! you’re pretty fun press box company, niece!

y/ndevils00 oh i love you

y/ndevils00 @/ehaula STEP UP YOUR UNCLE GAME OR HE’S GONNA BE FAVORITE

ehaula keep threatening it, i’m secure in my position and i know you love me

y/ndevils00 @/ehaula i hate you

ehaula sure. so i’ll see you tomorrow for family dinner, right?

y/ndevils00 @/ehaula yeah 🫤 can we watch Monsters Inc after dinner?

ehaula if you’re good and you eat all your food!

y/ndevils00 @/ehaula YES! 💃

jackhughes my girlfriend is a child

user10 how fast did you have to run from the press box to get these pictures?

y/ndevils00 oh so fast

dawson1417 THANK YOU BESTIE NUMBER 3!!! AND THANK YOU FOR MY HEAD PATS

y/ndevils00 you earned those head pats! i hope you enjoyed them!!

dawson1417 i did!!!

john.marino97 @/jackhughes your girlfriend is a child and my best friend is an actual golden retriever

jackhughes @/john.marino97 this is the life we chose

nicohischier stop eating my press box popcorn

y/ndevils00 but i was hungry :(

nicohischier your boyfriend was there? make him get you some!

y/ndevils00 he did! i ate it all!

nicohischier so you decide to eat mine?

y/ndevils00 yeah, now you get it!

nicohischier you are so…

y/ndevils00 beautiful? fun? hilarious?

nicohischier annoying

y/ndevils00 oh :(

nicohischier but i love you?

y/ndevils00 I LOVE YOU TOO WHORE!

tmeier96 no goal picture but a penalty picture?

y/ndevils00 i only have so many spaces, Timothy

tmeier96 ah yes, and the penalty was more important

y/ndevils00 well, yeah. you guys lost, it’s not like that goal mattered much

tmeier96 it goes towards my stats?

y/ndevils00 okay? and your penalty goes towards your PIMs

lhughes_06 you’re not winning this one dude, just save yourself the trouble and give up now

y/ndevils00 @/lhughes_06 see, Lukey gets it!

user63 wait, why won’t she tell us what road game she’s going to?

user95 WHAT ROAD GAME?! PLEASE, I WANNA MEET YOU

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

On thin ice (Hockey player! Miguel O’Hara x Figure skater! Fem! Reader)

A/N: Hiii Im back from my mini break :) I wanted to write more, but I wanted the next chapter to begin a certain way so I’m making this one short hehe. Excuse any typos and grammatical errors. Miguel probs being ooc

(Y/N)- Your Name

Cursing, funny little hehe drama, Miguel being Jealous, ansty (?) (Like, If you squint)

Word count: 1k

Series Masterlist

Chapter 9: Until I fall asleep, spilling drinks on my settee.

—

It’s been 3 weeks.

It’s been 3 weeks since you were in that practice room with Miguel O’Hara.

It’s been 3 weeks since you kissed Miguel O’Hara.

It’s been 3 weeks since you started to avoid Miguel O’Hara.

You didn’t do it on purpose, at least not at first. The day after the very overdue make out session, you told yourself that you would wait a day or two before you talked to him about it, in an attempt to get all your thought in order. Then, that day or two turned into three… then four, then a week, then 3… and at this point, it would be too awkward if you finally decided to face him. What were you even supposed to say after ignoring him for 3 weeks? “Hey Miguel, sorry I basically ghosted you after we made out, even though I said I’ll talk to you afterwards.” You’d rather die of embarrassment. So now you found yourself purposely avoiding him, and although your boy problems should be the last of your problems, they wouldn’t leave your mind.

As you came out of the bathroom, tossing your hairbrush onto your semi-messy bed, you let out a heavy sigh as you saw Kate finish fixing the whiteboard calendar that hung in your dorm room for the new month of October, on the third Friday, she had wrote “MIDTERMS,” in big red Expo marker, and on the following Friday she had written “REGIONALS” in the same way. The two words made your stomach twisted, and for once in the past three weeks, your mind was finally off the topic of the hockey player you had kissed.

“You know staring at the board won’t make those words go away.” Kate said, snapping you out of your thoughts as she capped the Expo marker, you let out lips curl down into a frown and your thumb’s fingernail started to tap repeatly on the surface on your ringer finger’s nail, a habit you've developed when you're nervous, because you knew she was right.

“Can’t you let me pretend at least?” You were joking of course, before making your way over to where you had your gym back half-hazardly thrown at the foot of your bed, zipping it open and checking of all your skating gear was in the bag.

“You’re overly stressed, what is it? Midterms, Regionals, or Miguel?” She asked with a head tilt, hey eyebrow going up with the question.

“All the above…” you mumbled under your breath as you finish rummaging through your bag before zipping it close and throwing it over you shoulder.

“You’ve got this.” Kate sent you a sympathetic smile, which you returned before leaving your shared dorm.

—

You told yourself no skating on the weekends as an attempt to keep yourself from over stressing yourself, but here you were, in the middle of the rink on the first of October, on a Sunday. To be fair, you weren’t practicing, you were just going to practice some jumps and spins, holding to get your mind off everything that’s been transpiring in your messy life. It was honestly a miracle that when you arrived that the rink was empty. You were in the middle of going over your triple lutz, each time you came back down on the ice your landing was wobbly, that is if you landed it. Most of the time you couldn't land it at all, it’s a move you’ve been trying to perfect for months now. Hoping to have it down before coach Kavinsky could have choreographed the long program in hopes to get more points from the judges, but unfortunately you still had too much trouble with it. It would have been a risky move to put it in the program.

“You should probably take a break from that move before you end up black and blue.” The voice rang out through the empty rink, causing you to lose concentration and fumbling the move again.

“Fucking hell, Logan. You should know you can’t do that shit…” you groaned as you slowly gathered yourself to get your body off the ice after falling. Logan chuckled and shook his head, his hands going into his pockets as he walked towards the entrance of the rink, taking the guards off his skates.

“Sorry, sorry, you’re right…” He mumbled with a small smile as he helped you up, “I just wanted to check on you. I know you like to come here when you’re stressed.” He added in a more serious tone.

“Yeah I’m…” your words trail off, a heavy sigh leaving through your nose instead. Logan, already knowing your answer just gave you a sympathetic frown, rubbing your shoulder before pulling you into a hug.

—

“She’s already told you that she’s not dating Logan-“

“I don’t care Peter.” Miguel growled, leaving the stadium, shoving past the front doors and angry stomped to his car in the parking lot. Peter followed behind him. While you and Logan were in the middle of your beautiful friendship moment of reassurance, neither of you noticed Miguel nor Peter making their way to the ice with their gear on and hockey sticks in hand. But upon seeing you embracing your skating partner, he quickly turned back around and made his way back into the locker room, changed back into his regular clothes, then (quietly) storming off and out of the building. “You expect me to believe that bullshit!? She’s all over him, like she wasn’t all over me 3 weeks ago!” He yelled as he throws open his back car door and angrily throws his bag and hockey stick into the back seat, Peter also putting his stuff in the back, but in a more calm manner.

“Miguel, that’s her skating partner. Not to mention her best friend.” Peter tries to reason with his friend as they both go into the car. “Obviously they’re gonna be close. If she was dating Logan, do you really think she would have let you kiss her? Let alone return the kiss?”

Miguel didn’t respond to Peter’s question, instead just letting out a small huff of air and a grunt. His hands gripping onto the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles began to turn white.

If you wanted to play that kind of game, then fine. He’ll play. He’s the best player on the team after all, this little cat and mouse will be easy for him.

—

Taglist: @tayleighuh @cowboylikeevie @coralineyouareinterribledanger @jukioku @loser-alert @migueloharaspookiebear @serpentstarr @littlexscarletxwitch @darksidescorner @sukioyakio

[quintessencewrites]

Vanish

ShuRiri x Wakandan!fem!reader

“Nisale kakuhle zinkosi zenu (Goodbye, your majesties.)” You bow and exit, leaving the Queens in their despair. 

Warnings: ANGST, explicit language, toxic!Riri, slightly toxic!Shuri...you might cry

Word Count: 2.5k+

Tags: @yvxmpire @zestgodtj @k3nn3dyxo @mlmilani @letitias-fav @doms-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @g4yforu @remwritess @widowmakker @becauseimswagman1 @zayswriting @inmyheadimobsessed @laurensmabel1 @malltake12

A/N: Another idea by @k3nn3dyxo, loosely based on the song Vanish by GIVEON. There's so much damn angst in this one, it kind of broke my heart to write. As always though, enjoy <3 Translations are in the text, there are full on sentences in xhosa in this one. Also, just because I never said it before, every character I write for is a black woman. I love us <3 , okay that's all lol

It had been weeks. That wasn’t an over-exaggeration. The x’s tallied across your calendar were proof. 

Weeks. Three weeks since you and your loves last had a meal together. 

Shuri and Riri lay in bed as you dressed, the smaller girl of the two still soundly sleeping, tucked under the other’s arm. Her highness smiled a beautiful smile at you, one filled with pride and all the adoration in the world. “Have a wonderful day, sthandwa (my love). Go do amazing things.” 

A beautiful grin of your own spread through your cheeks as you bent down to kiss the woman you loved. “Thank you. I will see you two for dinner?”

“Kunjalo, sana (Of course, baby). I can not wait to hear all about your day.”

And off you went, thrill racing through your veins as you left the palace in trek of the school you helped Nakia establish in your home country, one which mirrored her own brilliant institution in Haiti. 

Returning home many hours later, exhaustion adorning your features, you were welcomed by loneliness. The room shared between you and the adjacent queens was empty, as were the kitchen and living quarters. 

“Griot,” your voice echoed the large walls, calling out to the AI that had made its way out of Shuri’s lab and into your living space. 

“Yes, My Queen?”

“Where are my wives?” the question lingered from your lips. 

“Queen Shuri and Queen Riri are currently in the lab. Would you like me to page them for you?”

The heart encapsulated in your chest swelled, knowing that both girls have had a hard time returning to their work since Queen Mother’s death. You couldn’t bring yourself to pull them away from that. 

“No, Griot. Thank you anyways.”

That night, you climbed into bed alone, body no longer able to fight the sleep that draped upon it. 

When you awoke the next morning, your queens were snoring next to you. They’d crawled in at some point in the night and the sandman whisked them to dreamland; neither girl stirred when you left the bed to prepare for another day at the school. 

The abnormality of abandonment that marked the previous day for you and your family soon became routine. One night turned into two and two into 21. Twenty one days since you’d gathered around the table to enjoy a meal with your loves. 

Two weeks since they’d stopped making excuses. 

“I’m so sorry, baby. Work has been fucking crazy, man. I got caught up. Can I make it up to you?” Riri hadn’t even had the decency to leave the lab for the moment it would’ve taken her to stand you up in person. Shuri was in America, sovereign duties unable to go ignored any longer. 

Even without her partner in crime, Riri still found ways to make her lab work more important than her time with you. 

“You can’t take a moment? Let’s have lunch, my love.” You were begging, a pathetic sight had Ri been able to pull her eyes from her project long enough to peer at you through the hologram provided via the beads. 

“Nah, ma. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

Shuri was no better. 

“My Queen, where are you? The children are waiting, anticipating the Black Panther’s arrival.”

“Shit, usana (baby), that was today? Can we reschedule?”

“Can we re - No, Shuri! No, we can’t reschedule. These iingqondo ezincinci (little minds) have been waiting hours, missing lessons, to see their beloved protector. You promised.”

“I’m kind of caught up right now, y/n. Riri and I are about to do a test flight; the Iron Heart suit has to be able to reach speeds greater than Mach 5. We think we’ve got it.”

“Shuri plea-“

“Later, sthandwa (my love). I’ll make it up to you.”

And with that, her beads disconnected, erasing her face full of distracted features and leaving you with an auditorium packed with disappointed young ones. 

14 days ago, they stopped making excuses and empty promises, simply starting to just not showing up, not explaining. 

One week, exactly, since they forgot your birthday. 

It had been a hard year, you were well aware of that, but this day was one that never went by unnoticed by your queens. They spoiled you regularly, but on this day in particular, there was nothing that you couldn’t dream up that they wouldn’t move mountains to get you. 

You begrudgingly spent most of that special day alone this year. ‘They’re planning a surprise.’ you tried to convince yourself. Something so big, they had to spend the day away from you so they wouldn’t spoil it. 

Nakia and all the students at your school had wished you a happy birthday. Okoye granted you a year full of bliss as you aged up. Hell, even Griot spoke up when you arrived home from work, “Happy Birthday, Queen Y/n.” 

The damn AI had blessed your day before your wives had.

7 days later and they still hadn’t. 

You’d been patient; more than really. So when you awoke on the eighth day since your birthday to an empty bed, your thin restraint snapped, kindness fleeing with it.

You were angry, and you had every right to be.

The walk down to the lab was more of a march than a stroll. Rage preceded you, and when the lab doors opened before you, it permeated the space, quickly sucking out the focused atmosphere. 

“Queen Y/n has arrived,” Griot announded, oblivious to the fury preparing to reign down on the other Wakandan rulers. 

“Where are my queens, Griot?” You stood on the entrance platform, eyes scanning the room and coming up short of either girl. 

“Queen Riri is in the lab. Queen Shuri is thirty minutes out from the border, returning as we speak.”

Returning? Shuri had left the country and you weren’t even made aware.

“I’m down here, baby,” Riri’s voice was muffled among the buzz in the room, and you honestly couldn’t take it. 

“Wonke umntu ngaphandle (Everybody out),” your voice boomed. Riri was still struggling to learn the language and Shuri wasn’t here to translate, so you took command of the unfamiliar space. 

All around, the sea of white lab coats stilled, unsure. “Ngoku! (Now!)”

Their hesitations evaporated, and the scientists filed out of every exit in the room, leaving you and a confused Riri. You spotted your girl then, welder’s mask atop her head, slowly placing her tool down as you approached her. 

“Y/n, baby, I don’t have time for lunch today. These modifications have a deadline and-”

“Esihogweni ngomhla wakho wokugqibela (To hell with your deadline).”

Riri took a slight step back at your tone, “You know you’re gonna have to translate baby. I’m not there yet.”

At her retreat, you stepped forward, refusing to let her escape. “To hell with your deadline. My patience had a deadline too, Riri.”

Her guard drops, no longer taking your distraction in her lab as a serious matter. “Y/n, what are you going on about?”

When she raises her hand to drop the mask back onto her face, you scoff. She couldn’t even give you a moment to speak, nor an ounce of respect to hear your words. 

You step in front of her, risking being burned by the tool in her hands and not caring at all. Riri jumps back and switches the device off. “You gonna get yourself hurt, y/n! You know better than that; what the fuck is going on with you?”

“Queen Shuri has arrived,” Griot announces as she steps into the lab, panther suit still on, missing the mask. Her brows raise at the sight of her empty lab as she saunters over to you two.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” Shuri questions with a kiss to the side of your head. “Where is everyone?” she asks as she repeats the action on Riri. 

If looks could kill, you and Riri would both be six feet under, neither of you removing your glare from the other. “Ask her,” Riri retorts. “She came in spewing some shit I couldn’t understand and risking her life with tools she don’t know how to handle and shit.” Throwing the tool to the ground, Ri steps closer to you. She’s so close she could kiss you, but the fury emitting from her tells you she won’t. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Shuri grabs Riri’s upper arm, stopping the girl from approaching you any further. With furrowed brows, she speaks. “Sthandwa (my love), what’s going on?”

A deep chuckle filled with rage leaves your body. It’s an ugly sound coming from you, brimming with emotions you don’t usually possess. “This is the most attention I’ve gotten from either of you in weeks.”

“Attention?” Riri cries. “This is about you not getting attention?” She turns to Shuri, “Baby, we don’t have time for this!” Swiveling back to face you and shaking her arm free of the Black Panther’s hold, Riri steps forward to you, an angry finger in your face joining her dangerous words. “You’re not a child, y/n! We don’t have to come running every time you beckon and call.”

“Ri, calm down. Y/n, my love, nceda uqonde (understand, please). This work is important to us. You know that.” Shuri is speaking to you gently while Riri paces back and forth, hands clasped and running over her tight braids. 

“Bast, Shuri, we don’t have time for this,” Riri repeats. 

Shuri raises her hand to silence Riri but then lowers it onto the small of her back, pulling her in close. “Y/n, sthandwa (my love), singakwenza oku kamva? (can we do this later?)”

That’s it. That small movement opened your foolish eyes.

They were a team. Shuri and Riri. The Black Panther and Iron Heart.

And right now, they were teamed up against you. 

The action almost caused you doubt, your brain wracking to think of a way you may be in the wrong. 

You came up with nothing.

“Ungacinga lomtshato uphakathi kwenu nobabini qha (You would think this marriage was only between the two of you.”

Shuri’s head dips and when she looks back at you, sadness is in her gaze. “Ungathethi loo nto, sthandwa (Don’t say that, my love). You don’t mean that.”

Riri’s head is spinning between you two. “What did she say?”

Shuri is hesitant to answer. “Sh-she said that it seems as though our marriage is only between the two of us.”

While Shuri is making the effort to be gracious with your feelings, Riri just isn’t. She laughs, “Are you serious, yo? You go a few days without any affection and you start tripping?”

“Three weeks.”

“What?” Riri asks.

“Three weeks,” you parrot. “It has been three weeks.”

“Quit being dramatic, y/n-” But Ri’s words are silenced when you throw the calendar upon her work station. Across it are little notes marking the important women in you life’s promises that went broken on those important dates. Big, bold x’s mark out those days. 

“Three weeks ago,” you point at the date. “Was the day I started my duties at the school. You missed the grand opening; couldn’t even be bothered to have dinner with me that evening to celebrate. I went to bed alone that night. Have been ever since.”

Shuri’s eyes are wide and full of hurt, having forgotten the vow she made that you on that day. “We haven’t eaten together in three weeks? Haven’t gone to bed together in that long?”

You ignored her questions. Your voice had finally found you and you refused to let it go. “Two weeks ago, Riri, we were supposed to have lunch together. You’ve been blowing me off ever since. You, ubungangamsha bakho (your majesty), promised to bless the school with your presence. You failed to do so, and I spent six hours consoling some very upset children.”

Next came the date with a bold red circle engulfing it. ‘My Birthday!’ the note read. “One week ago,” your voice cracks. “This one is pretty self-explanatory.”

Tears are falling from Shuri’s face. “How could we-”

Riri is belligerent. “Nah, nah. We wouldn’t miss your birthday. We had it all planned out, today’s only-” Her words fail as she pulls out her phone to check, as if she didn’t believe the calendar you placed in front of her. “Shit.”

“Ikaka ngokwenene(Shit indeed). So tell me again, Shuri, how I didn’t mean the words I said before.”

She doesn’t speak, face full of an apology she can’t vocalize. 

Riri isn’t backing down, anger riling her up again. “Hold up, so you been sitting on this shit for three weeks and you wanna come in and hold it over our heads now?”

“Hold it over your heads? Riri, my love, vuma ukuba awulunganga (admit you’re wrong)! It was you, nina nobabini (both of you), who forgot you had another wife to care for, not I!”

“If you’re so forgotten, y/n, why don’t you just leave?”

Her words knock the wind out of you. “Utheni? (What did you say?)” 

Shuri’s words find her again. “Riri, stop-”

“Nah, baby. She’s the forgotten wife, right?” She’s speaking to Shuri, but her eyes are on you. “We haven’t shown her how much we care over these past few years. How much she meant to us. It wasn’t enough for her.”

Readdressing you, Riri asks venumously “It wasn’t enough, was it, y/n? Huh, baby? We weren’t enough for you. So why don’t you go? Disappear? Vanish?”

A panic is rising in Shuri and she pulls Riri’s tiny body back, but the anger and frustration flowing through the small girl’s being strengthen her. “Cwaka, Riri (Silence, Riri.) Let’s cool off usana (baby), you’re going to say something you’ll regret.”

Riri takes no heed to Shuri's words, tears pouring down both girl’s faces, as well as your own. “Go, y/n. Bounce, baby. Find that woman who gives you more than either of us could, and when you do, wish the bitch luck!”

“Riri!” Shuri hisses, but then her attention is on you. Her eyes follow you as your hand moves to pull off your kimoyo beads. She rushes to you, her hand atop yours. “No, no, sthandwa (my love). She didn’t mean it. Yeka, hlala nam (Stop, stay with me.)”

You take the bracelet off anyways and place it in Shuri’s hand. She looks down at it in horror and tries a different tactic, taking your cheek in her hand to wipe your tears. “Umfazi wam, ndiyaxolisa (My wife, I’m sorry). Ndiyacela, ndiyacela, sukuhamba. (Please, please, don’t go.),” whispers from her lips. 

When you reach to remove the wedding ring from your hand, Shuri drops to her knees, begging. Riri even stops her pacing to peer at you with wide eyes, the weight of her words finally hitting her. 

The ring clinks as it lands on the table, a loud sound in the quiet room. “Ndiyahamba (I’ll leave).”

You pull Shuri’s chin into your hands, bringing her teary eyes to meet yours. With a small, sad smile and a quick glance at Riri, whose taking wavering steps toward you, your mouth opens to speak to the two one last time before you retreat. “Nisale kakuhle zinkosi zenu (Goodbye, your majesties.)” You bow and exit, leaving the Queens in their despair. 

[kellykidd]

Baby Severide - Chapter 1: Growing an Entire Human

*Gif belongs to its rightful owner, it is not mine*

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Reader Summary: When Kelly accompanies you to an OB appointment, the doctor brings some unexpected news.

Words: 1,569

Warnings: Doctors appointments, not great writing

Read on Ao3 here

Notes: The first chapter of a few. The entire fic isn’t quite done yet. Honestly, I wrote this for me, so if you like it, great, let me know. If not, great too, just don’t tell me. Medical info and such may not be right, sorry :) tagging some friends and mutuals as to celebrate my return to writing

Next Chapters: Chapter 2

Tags: @morganupstead @district447 @mustprotectmattcaseyatallcosts

——

“Hey babe, you home?” Kelly called for you as he opened the apartment door.

“Hey I’m here,” you sighed as you chuckled softly.

“How are my two favourite girls doing?” He asked, setting his duffel bag on the floor before coming to snuggle up with you on the couch. 

“We’re ok, feeling like a beached whale though, baby.” 

“We are in the home stretch. Take it easy these last few weeks.”

“Oh we’re taking it easy all right. I sat on this couch all day and did nothing, but watch The Bachelor,” you laughed, “how was shift?”

“A car wreck, nothing major. Then I came home early for you,” he leaned over and gave you a peck on the lips before getting up from the couch.

“Where are you going?” You gave Kelly your best puppy dog eyes.

“Well I thought I was going to shower,” he chuckled.

“Can you get me some water and a snack?” 

“What about water and some breakfast?”

“Oh, the baby could really use some of your bacon and french toast.”

“You sit here, I’ll make us some french toast.”

“Don’t forget the bacon,” you teased as he went to the kitchen to start preparing your feast.

—

“Breakfast on the couch or the table?” Kelly called, plates clanging in the background.

“How about from our bed?” You laughed back, “I’ve had a long day.”

“You’re growing an entire human, that’s a long enough day as it is without you having to work from home too,” he brought the plates to your night stands and came back for you. 

You got up from the couch with his help and started to waddle over to the bed. 

“Hopefully only another few hours of working from home,” you sighed, getting under the quilt your mom made you as a wedding gift. 

“Heard from the doctor yet?” He asked, sliding into the bed with a coffee in his hand. 

“Called this morning. She got a cancellation for this afternoon at 3 to do another ultrasound and checkup so I don’t have go by myself,” you replied, digging into your stack of french toast. 

“Our daughter is the luckiest,” he leaned down to kiss your belly. 

“With your as her daddy, I have no doubt,” you moved your plate to your night stand and rested your head on his shoulder. 

“As of now, I’ll only be away for one more shift before she’s born.”

“How long is Boden giving you for paternity leave?”

“I’m only going to take six weeks. Then I’m gonna use up some furlough, so I’ll be off with you for about eight weeks.”

“I thought you had more time saved up.”

“I get 12 weeks every two years. If we have more kids, I want to have the time to be off both times, baby.”

“I don’t know if I want them that close together though,” you laughed. 

“Never know. We didn’t expect this one.”

“That’s true I guess. Hey, what time is it?”

“1:28, why?”

“I have a call at 1:30.”

“What do you need for it?”

“Just my laptop and AirPods.”

“I’ll grab them for you quick.”

He walked across the bedroom to the desk and brought you your things to start your call. He wondered out of the room so you could present in peace. 

Kelly walked back into your bedroom near the end of your call. You were just saying goodbye to some coworkers since your maternity leave officially started as soon as your call was finished. You closed your laptop and put it to the side.

“Ready to go?” He asked.

“One thing first,” you smiled.

“Which is…?”

“Can you tie my shoes please?” You laughed.

“Of course, but let’s get going. I haven’t seen the baby in a couple months.”

“I know, I know, my shoes are on the floor by the door.”

“Let’s get you up then, we’ve got to go.”

—

As you pulled up to the doctor’s office, a flutter of excitement filled your heart. Walking into the office, you always dreaded that the OB’s office was on the second floor. You had a seat and waited your turn. Kelly always made sure you were there early after all. 

“Mrs Severide?” A nurse called.

You stood up and Kelly held your hand into the exam room. 

“There’s a gown on the bed with a blanket. Please put the gown on, the doctor will be in soon,” 

“Thank you,” Kelly smiled.

The nurse left the room and you stood by the bed. Kelly sitting in the chair by your side. You started to change and your husband tied the sides of your gown together for you. He helped you onto the bed, draping the blanket over your legs and belly.

There was a knock on the door, “Hi, it’s Dr Calhoun.”

“Come in,” you answered.

Dr. Calhoun closed the door behind her as she came into the exam room. 

“How are the parents-to-be feeling today?” She asked.

“A little wobbly, but happy to finally be on maternity leave,” you laughed.

“And how are you feeling, Kelly?” 

“A little nervous, but excited,” he replied.

“Any concerns with the pregnancy since we last saw you? From either of you?” Dr Calhoun asked, pulling up your chart on the computer.

“Nothing that I’ve noticed. Just really tired,” you replied.

“That is to be expected, you’re in the home stretch.”

“Kelly said the same thing,” you laughed, “it does help my case of getting him to cook for me when he’s not on shift though.”

“Sounds like you’re doing well then,” she laughed, “let’s take a look at this baby girl.”

She pulled the ultrasound wand and gel out. Kelly held your hand.

“It’s gonna be a little cold, I’m sorry,” she announced. 

She squirted the gel onto your belly and flicked the machine on. Swirling the wand around your belly, she turned the screen so you could see the image.

“She’s bigger than the last time I’ve seen her,” Kelly laughed, kissing your hand. 

“She has grown a lot in the last month or two,” you smiled, “how’s she looking?”

“Active and growing well. Do you mind if I ask you guys something?” Dr Calhoun asked.

“Sure, is something wrong?” Kelly asked.

“Not at all. How big were you both when you were born?” She replied.

“I believe I was just under seven pounds, and I think Kelly’s mom said he was over 9 pounds. Why?” You replied.

“Your daughter is measuring larger than what we had originally thought. Almost nine and a half pounds. I’m worried about the risk of shoulder dystocia, and I’m thinking it may be easier on you and your baby if you opted for a c-section in the next week or two. A c-section isn’t an easier way out though and the recovery may be difficult.”

“But I’m only 36 weeks, shouldn’t we let her mature a little more?”

“Given her size already, she should be okay to deliver even tomorrow.”

“Kelly still has another shift left before he’s on leave. I don’t think I’m-“ you were starting to shift around on the bed.

“Babe, I’ll take some more furlough. It’ll be okay. Let’s just focus on you and the baby right now,” Kelly stroked your hair, “we’ll be okay.”

“Your baby has grown very well. I am not as worried about her progression as I am about your ability to recover and your baby’s risk of complications. I’ll give you a minute,” Dr Calhoun replied, walking towards the door, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She closed the door behind her and tears filled your eyes. 

“What do you think we should do?” Kelly asked.

“If the doctor thinks this is what’s best, I think we should do it,” you wiped the tears from your eyes. 

“I’m sorry I make such big babies,” he laughed, rubbing your belly.

“Just means we get to meet her sooner. I think we should do this.” 

“When do you want to schedule it?”

“After your next shift. Make sure you don’t have to take any more time off.”

“I would happily take more time off for you and our little girl.”

“Thank you,” your eyes started to swell with tears of joy. 

“Knock knock,” Dr Calhoun said, entering the exam room, “have you made a decision or would you like more time?”

“I think we’ve made a decision,” you smiled, “let’s do this as soon as possible.”

“Okay, I’ll leave some paperwork with the nurse at the desk. She’ll get you booked in and give you some instructions. See you both soon. Rest up. Oh and, as always, give us a call if something happens or if you have questions.”

“Thank you Doctor Calhoun.”

Dr Calhoun left the exam room and Kelly helped you change. You made your way to the front desk and booked your c-section. Saturday at 11:30am. Two days away.

Leaving the office, you felt excited. As Kelly started to drive you home, you noticed he seemed excited, but nervous.

“Hey, do you want to stop by 51 on our way home?” You asked, “to tell them the news?”

“Do you mind?” 

“Not at all. Then it gives you a chance to talk to Boden.”

Kelly made a u-turn back in the direction of the firehouse. You were only a few minutes away. He smiled from ear to ear as you pulled up. 

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

If you still want prompts, how about someone saying 8 to Jaskier? <3

Here's some Geraskier! Can be read as gen or pre-slash.

8. “Put your head on my shoulder.”

Geralt grits his teeth as he hauls Jaskier back to their camp, the bard a limp weight in his arms. Jaskier appears to be awake, but in shock; his wide eyes stare blindly upwards. His doublet has a tear in it, the gash left by the grave hag’s tongue traveling from the center of his breastbone to his left shoulder. It will probably scar, which is the least the idiot deserves after strolling up to a grave hag to “get a closer look.”

“Geralt, I can’t see,” Jaskier says again, his unseeing eyes darting about frantically. “I can’t see.”

“I know.” Geralt is more gentle than he would like to be as he deposits the bard on his bedroll. “That’s because you didn’t fucking stay back when I told you to.”

“I thought it was dead! It was on the ground!”

“It was injured, not dead. That made it even more fucking dangerous.”

“Is it permanent? Oh gods, Geralt, I can’t lose my sight! That hag’s hideous maw can’t be the last thing I ever see! Why couldn’t it have been a comelier monster, like a succubus or a—”

Of course that’s the first thing he thinks about. “It’s the venom from the grave hag’s tongue. It almost always wears off in an hour or two.”

“Almost always?” If possible, Jaskier’s voice gets even pitchier.

Geralt thinks about lying, but the bard needs to realize how easily carelessness could get him hurt or killed. He thought Jaskier learned that after nearly getting his throat cut by elves a month ago and then nearly getting carried off by a wyvern a week after that. Not to mention all the times Geralt's had to haul him away from an angry father or husband. “Occasionally, the blindness is permanent. It’s rare, but it happens. Mostly to the sick and the elderly.”

“How sick? Because I was feeling a bit sniffly this morning.” Jaskier’s heart rate is getting faster, his breathing growing quick and raspy. “And how elderly?”

“Jaskier, you’re eighteen.”

“Almost nineteen!” His voice rises to practically a wail. “And I like to think I have an old soul.”

“You have an almost-nineteen-year-old soul,” Geralt says with his last scrap of patience. “I told you, you’ll be fine in an hour or two.”

“I’ll most likely be fine in an hour or two! What happens if I’m not? You won’t leave me here, will you? Geralt, you probably haven’t noticed, but I have no fucking idea how to survive on my own.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Jaskier doesn’t seem to hear him. “I can’t light a fire! The last time I tried to set a snare for a rabbit, I got caught in it. I get sick at the sight of blood, so I can’t hunt! Please don’t leave me here on my own.”

“I’m not going to leave you.” Geralt has tried to lose Jaskier a couple of times, but quickly realized that abandoning the bard in the wilderness was practically a death sentence for the lad. He’s been tempted to reconsider a couple of times, but he doesn’t actually want Jaskier dead in a ditch.

“Gods, I’ll have to return to Lettenhove, won’t I?” Jaskier’s blank gaze is fixed somewhere over Geralt’s shoulder. “Cordelia is never going to let me live this down. She told me I wouldn’t last a year on the road and I didn’t even last a season.”

Geralt goes to his saddlebag to get supplies to clean and stitch the wound. When he comes back, Jaskier is enumerating all the things that he’ll never lay eyes on again. It’s hard to tell what he’ll miss more: sunsets or tits. As Geralt dabs the dried blood and venom from the wound, Jaskier seems to settle on tits.

“And yes, I know I’ll still be able to feel them, Geralt, but it’s really an altogether different—”

Geralt can hear the hitch in the bard’s breathing that tells him that Jaskier is perilously close to hyperventilating. Fuck. He puts aside the supplies—the wound has stopped bleeding, stitches aren’t a necessity—and pulls Jaskier into his arms. Jaskier makes a startled noise, but comes willingly.

“Put your head on my shoulder,” he says.

“What?” Jaskier squeaks.

“Just do it.” When the bard complies, settling his cheek against Geralt’s shoulder almost tentatively, like he thinks it’s some kind of trick, Geralt adds, “Listen to my breathing. Match it with yours.”

Jaskier’s quick, panting breaths slow down, bringing his hammering heart rate down a notch.

“Just concentrate on breathing.” Geralt keeps his voice low and soothing, like he would if it were Roach startled by an unexpected noise or a rabbit in her path. “You’re going to be fine.”

“What if it is permanent?” Jaskier whispers.

“It won’t be.” With the arm that isn’t holding Jaskier against him, Geralt cups the back of the bard’s head, stroking slowly with his thumb. “But if it is, we’ll figure something out. You’ll still be able to play the lute and sing. Still be able to talk.”

Jaskier lets out a shaky laugh. “You say that like you think it’s a good thing.”

“Hm.” Since the bard can’t see him, Geralt lets himself smile. “Better than listening to you shriek about tits.”

“I don’t shriek.”

“You sound like a grave hag in heat when you get worked up.”

“Thank you for that horrifying mental image. Really, today hadn’t been trying enough.”

“Your own fault.”

“And here I thought you were being nice to me for once.”

“Saved you from the grave hag, didn’t I?”

“Not in time to save my eyes.”

“Your eyes will be fine, Jaskier.”

“So you say.” But the anxiety is slowly seeping out of Jaskier’s scent as he curls closer to Geralt. Geralt will probably regret letting him get this touchy feely, but that’s a problem for later, once the bard can see again and his heartbeat is back to normal.

“You’ll be able to see again by sunset,” Geralt tells him. “But I don’t think you have any chance of seeing tits tonight, not with the shit job you did flirting with the alderman’s niece.”

“Shit job? Geralt, she was charmed!”

“Have you ever met a woman before, Jaskier? One that you’re not paying to put up with you?”

Jaskier is so indignant that he spends a good part of the next hour telling Geralt about the people of various genders who have been won over by his charm and good looks. He doesn’t even seem to notice when his sight comes back.

(And Geralt doesn’t notice that he’s still holding Jaskier until the bard pulls away.)

***

Hurt/Comfort Dialogue Prompts

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

[xximperioxx]

Hello! Can I request a Sodo x reader fanfic where the readers got a really bad headache for the first time in a while and nothings really helping but it’s annoying bc the reader feels like they can’t do anything but Sodo knows what to do n helps them (I have the worst headache ever rn I can’t sit up properly, and my head feels like someone is trying to smash it in)

Anon I know exactly how you feel! I get migraines just about every week and it’s so draining. Thank you so so much for the request! I loved writing it! Please feel better!

Enjoy <3

Warm Compress

Sodo/Dewdrop x GN!Reader

Word Count: 700 (on the shorter side sorry)

Warnings: none :)

((the gif is totally how I imagined his reaction to what Swiss did lol))

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You were on the verge of tears. You haven’t had a headache this bad in a really long time and you are about to give up. Even Sister Imperator saw how miserable you felt and sent you to the nurse and then to your room to get some rest. The nurse couldn’t exactly help, she gave you ibuprofen and sent you on your way.

No matter where you went it was too loud or too bright and it made your head pound even more. Not even your dorm was safe as your roommates talked amongst themselves. You felt like you had tried everything from popping some more Advil to staying hydrated yet nothing was working.

The idea of resting in Sodo’s room suddenly came to you. It would be perfect. The ghouls were at practice and it was pitch black in the basement where they lived.

Trudging through the halls in a hoodie and sweatpants, you pray no one tries to talk to you. By the time you got to Sodo’s room, you collapsed on his bed with a wince. You throw his pillow over your head, hoping the pressure would relieve some pain. It didn't. You don't understand how nothing was helping. A frustrated scream was ready to escape your throat at this point.

Sodo was on his way back to his room arguing with Swiss. Swiss may or may not have touched Sodo’s guitar and got it out of tune. He was too angry he didn’t even even smell that you were in his room so when he busted his door open mumbling to himself, it came to a shock to see you. Of course he didn’t notice until he slammed it shut and the loud noise caused you to whimper.

The anger immediately left the ghoul’s body once he heard the noise that left you. His tail now swishing in worry. He gets closer to the bed, “Babe? What’s wrong with you?”

You peek your head from the pillow. At this point you didn’t realize you were crying but you felt tears on your cheeks. A frustrated sniffle leaves you.

The bed dips as Sodo crawls into it. The ghoul pauses and takes his helmet off, throwing it to his side of the bed. He gently takes the pillow of your face.

He frowns at the sight of your tired eyes and your tear stained cheeks, “Did someone hurt you?,” he growls, “I’ll kill them.”

You can’t help but laugh which turns into a groan once the pounding in your head returns.

“It’s just my head hurts…,” you can’t help but start to tear up again, “-so much and I haven’t had a headache this bad in a long time and no matter what I do it hurts so much.”

You apologize to him suddenly feeling embarrassed at your frustration and rambling. Sodo shushes and shakes his head before he lays down beside you. He takes your head into his chest before cradling your head. The fire ghoul begins to radiate heat within his arms to calm the pain in your head.

A sigh of relief leaves you. Between the pressure his arms were creating from cradling to the heat compressing your head, it felt so soothing. Thank satan for your ghoul. You nuzzle against him as he plants a kiss on the top of your head.

“I love you,” you mumble against his arm.

Sodo smirks, “Yeah, yeah.”

Comfortable silence fills the room. Your breathing begins to slow as your eyes close. Sodo runs his fingers through your hair, his claws gently scratching your scalp.

“I love you too.” You grin at his words.

The two of you fall asleep not too long after. Your headache is long gone now replaced with peaceful bliss.

Bonus:

Swiss sighs as he goes to apologize to Sodo for touching his guitar after Cumulus demanded him to only to become a smug mess when he opens the door to see the fire ghoul cuddling with you. Soft snores leaving him. The multi ghoul quietly snaps a picture, trying not to snicker. Lets just say that the picture was sent to the group chat and Sodo woke up to lots of messages.

[katyawriteswhump]

the power of love part 7 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

(also on AO3 here)

Chapter Seven

Eddie POV

Steve insists on being pathfinder lead for the next hour. 

Eddie’s gotta admit—following Steve, as he thrashes his way through the undergrowth, is the best entertainment that banishment has provided yet. Steve’s tight-fitting pants don't do any harm. Goddammit, the perspiration patches on Steve’s shirt make Eddie sweat even harder than Steve is.

“You need the fedora hat,” calls Robin, “and you’ve totally nailed the junior Indiana Jones look.”

Steve smirks over his shoulder. “I was channelling that guy out of Romancing the Stone.” 

“Michael Douglas? No way as hot.” Eddie flashes his best flirtatious grin with ever greater confidence. This afternoon, Steve has begun returning them. “Stick to Indy, man.”

By the time they reach the logging camp, however, they’re all beyond exhausted.

Eddie’s feet are raw with blisters, and Robin’s been complaining of the same for the past hour. She limps through the door of the first cabin they come to, which fortunately turns out to be a bunkhouse. She throws down her pack then throws herself onto the bottom of one of two sets of bunks. Steve collapses onto the other lower bunk and appears to fall instantly asleep.

Eddie considers crawling up onto one of the top bunks and seeing if sleep takes pity on him.

He doubts it would. The choppers were a stark reminder of the nightmare reality snapping at his heels, and he’s wired as hell. He begins to unpack their supplies. Robin, having taken a moment, sits back up.

“We should check this place out,” she whispers. “There must be a clean water supply somewhere, maybe a generator. Definitely canned food and that kinda stuff, for when the loggers come back in the autumn.” 

“I guess it’ll make a change from cardboard-flavoured cereal.”

“God, I know, right! I’d literally murder for some Count Chocular right now.”

They split up to search the various cabins. Eddie hits the jackpot first, in the guise of a crate of bottled beer. 

“Seriously?” says Robin, when she meets him outside the bunkhouse. Eddie sits on the beer crate he’s dragged out, taking a well-earned rest. “You’re gonna get buzzed?”

“You got it in one, sister.”

He doesn’t feel the need to justify this—I saw Chrissy butchered in front of my eyes. I’ve spent a week on the run from the cops. I BASICALLY DIED IN A WHIRLWIND OF EVIL KILLER DEMOBATS. And now I’m on the run again, with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, and I’ve fallen stupid hard for him. Oh, and there’s a small but real possibility he’s been flayed. Or something else freaky along those lines.

Robin hasn’t quit scowling at him. His smile is the first overtly false one he’s bothered with for a while:

“Forgive me, Robin. I’ve reached the point where, to quote my sweet old Granny—there ain’t nothin’ fuckin’ like it for me nerves. ’Course, she favoured hard liquor.” He offers one of two bottles he’s gotten out to Robin. “Want one?”

“I’ll stick to the cardboard cereal.” Her scowl lessens, though she remains deadly serious. “Look, promise me you won’t give too much to Steve.”

“Why?”

“What kinda pea-brain question is that? Despite the super-commando act, he’s still struggling, it’s totally obvious. Getting trashed is not gonna help.”

“Yeah, but… he’s improving, right?” Her slight wince betrays that, once again, they’re thinking the same thing. Perhaps Steve’s getting stronger, because he’s getting closer again to Lover’s Lake, Hawkins, Vecna, the Hive-Mind, and yet… “You know our little worst-case scenario, Rob? I’m still not buying it.”

The wind rustles the nearby trees. In sync, Robin’s hunched shoulders soften a little. “Me neither. Hand on heart, if Steve had a link to that evil shit, any at all, I’d sense it by now. Although… Was it just me who thought it was weird when the choppers came over, and then it suddenly clouded up?”

“Yeeeeaah, that really was just you. I was too busy eating dirt and shitting myself.” Now he thinks about it, mind, it was darn convenient.

She shrugs. “I guess I’m super-paranoid that way. I literally spent my Middle School years spotting aliens everywhere.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Then I realised they weren’t aliens. It was the Fae all along.”

“You sure it wasn’t dragons?”

“Now you’re being ridiculous.” Her laugh sounds as manic as his latest crazy smile. On the other hand:

“Maybe Steve really is getting better naturally,” he ventures, “and the set-backs are because he’s been overdoing it. I mean, yeah, we keep an eye out for anything cuckoo, watch for connections, make sure he takes rests, but… Time heals, huh?”

“Not always.” She purses her lips, veering straight back into scary mode. “Steve doesn’t like people to know, but since his second major concussion, he’s not supposed to drink. Of course, he does sometimes, but—”

“Message received. I’ll just have the one—for medicinal purposes, ’kay?” 

“Please yourself. Then wake Steve long enough to put our own bedding on those disgusting bunks. I don’t wanna be bitten to death by bed bugs.”

Robin stomps off toward the camp generator. Eddie is executing the important business of prying the top off his beer, when Steve appears, leaning in the cabin doorway. “Why did you both let me… Hey, is that beer?”

The top pops off with a treacherous fizz. “Uh, no?”

“You’re a useless liar.” Steve closes in. His messy, sleep-mussed hair renders him totally edible. 

“You got me.” Eddie darts his tongue nervously across his lips. “This indeed is the amber nectar of the Gods. You want some?” 

There’s a skewed logic behind Eddie’s offer. If he told Steve he couldn’t drink, like he was his mom or something, Steve would probably get mad. He opts to play a good cop, bad cop routine with Robin, who… 

Eddie glances toward the generator.

She’s not there. If bad cop isn’t gonna show, then he needs a Plan B.

“I guess I’ll have one.” Steve stretches to take the bottle. 

“Just gonna test it. Been here a while.” 

Eddie takes a glug, splutters it out across dusty ground. “Oh man, it’s worse than cat-piss.” He’s only slightly exaggerating. “There’s a reason those lumberjacks left this garbage behind.”

Steve yawns into the back of his hand. “Gonna be honest. I’m not supposed to drink anyhow. Long story.” Ooookay. That went easier than predicted. “Got any water left?”

“Yeah. By my pack.” Eddie hurries into the bunkhouse, and Steve follows. It’s the last bottle, so he hopes Robin’s busy locating fresh supplies. Though that proves the least of his worries.

Half a minute later, he’s sitting on the edge of a bunk, thigh-to-thigh with Steve. They pass the bottle of water and a bottle of beer between them.

And being this close to Steve, now Steve seems so much better? Exchanging chitchat about how long they can hideout here, and if any of them have the skills to hunt a deer or something?

It sends tingles up and down Eddie’s spine.

The way Steve looks at him underlines exactly why Steve was angry last night, when Eddie “assumed” he was straight. Eddie suddenly can’t look Steve in the eye. Trouble is, he then can’t stop staring at Steve’s mouth—those shapely, slightly chapped lips, moist and glistening with water and bad beer.

Then Steve blindsides him with: “Do you honestly think you died, Eddie? Before I did the CPR?”

“I dunno, Harrington.” Eddie squirms on his butt, all kinds of defences flying up. “It was like a dream. Apart from that, it wasn't a dream. It was a place, and Dustin was there, and Robin was there, and you were there, too.”

“Wow. Seriously?”

Eddie cackles out a mocking laugh. “I’m misquoting ‘The Wizard of Oz,’ dude.”

“Oh.” Eddie glances sidelong. Steve appears… oddly crestfallen. “It’s just… You know, I said when I get hurt, I feel like I come back different each time. I mean, I don't know if it's true or not, but... I never knew you before... and I know you now and... and…” Steve fluffs his hair. “Jesus, I’m blabbering.”

“Nah,” says Eddie. “You sound like you’re getting somewhere.” 

Compared to the meltdown my brain is having.

“Okay, well, here it is. I like you, Eddie. I really like you.” 

Eddie half wants to flee for the hills. He fixes on a beetle scuttling across the dirty floorboards. “Dude, you sure you’re not in love with Wheeler?”

“I… I… No!”  Steve doesn’t sound angry, only bewildered. “Yeah, I believed that once, and maybe I was. I guess she fitted in so many dreams I’ve had of my future, and I owe her a lot. But now I’m with you, and…” Their eyes finally meet. Steve’s earnest warmth sends a brutal shockwave through Eddie. “I know this seems fickle, but…” His gentle laugh is too much. “Who knows? Perhaps it’s because Nance has never been dead. Or, near dead. You know, we’ve gotten that in common, right?”

“Riiiiight,” Eddie says, stupidly, then, “Screw it, I like you too, Stevie. I really like you.” 

They fling their arms around each other, and tumble into the kiss.

For Eddie, the sensations are like no make-out session before, such is the hunger that zings between them. Eddie’s so blown away, that the brush of Steve’s lips seems to kindle an actual crackling, electric friction..  Damn, the boy can kiss! 

Eddie’s gotten a semi already, fingers threading up through Steve’s hair, toying at the nape of his neck. Steve does amazing twisty things with his tongue. Gnng! You wanna kill me again, Baby? Even the scrape of Steve’s shallow stubble totally unhinges him.

They work the kiss with their whole bodies, striving to get beyond close, as if they could slide beneath each other’s skin. Eddie can’t help wondering—can they get each other off, before Robin gets back?

Then something changes.

He senses Steve gasp, then moan into Eddie's mouth with something other than dumb teen passion. His arms, clinging around Eddie, falter and slip away.

“Stevie?”

Too late. Steve crumples against Eddie, totally senseless. 

“Steve?” squeaks Eddie, struggling to stop Steve slipping to the floorboards. “Robin! ROBIN!”

Part 8

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

[crash-and-cure]

If I Were You Part 2 (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: Reader tries to navigate the immeadiate aftermath after that fateful night with Elvis, to varying success. WIth his return to performing on the horizon reader questions is if there is a way of forward that causes the least amount of damage for both parties. Elvis sees only one path forward.

Note: This is based on @venus-haze One shot If I Were You. Please go read that before this because it’s absolutely incredible. And yes before anyone asks I had her full permission to continue the story and she has been on board the whole time. I swear on my life this was originally a one-shot to continue on and let it be known what I saw for reader and Elvis’ future. Then about 5k into this story and realizing there were so many scenes I wanted to add within the first week alone for these two, I just went all in and decided to restrain this chapter to a week. There will be at least one more chapter following this. Reader is cis female, and aside from that no other descriptors are used. Full disclosure I do use this song, which, while never performed by him, has all the makings of one, and it fit to well in the scene it’s in. I do have a Bachelor’s in Psychology, but I am not a therapist, so nothing here should be treated as genuine mental health advice. That being said there is alot more focus on reader this time around. Please read the warnings before deciding to read.

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: Yandere fic so there are themes of obsessive , manipulative, and delusional behavior as well as some heavy allusions to blackmail, emotional and otherwise, here too. There is an informal therapy session depicted here as well in which topics such as performance anxiety, sex, exploitation, and substance abuse are discussed. Depictions of drinking that may be seen as delving into alcohol abuse territory, as well as some other erratic behavior on readers part. Explicit sexual content depicted that includes oral (f. recieving), pentrative sex (m/f), spanking, some daddy kink, and other dom/sub undertones sprinkled throughout. And of course Elvis’ mommy issues and readers daddy issues (truly aa match made in hell). Finally depictions of a toxic relationship that include power imbalances, manipulation, and uses of coercion. Please do not interact if you are under 18.

Part 1  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5

My Masterlist

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You kept that bottle of wine, you can’t fully explain why though. Worse yet you kept it in the bottom drawer of your desk, and every time you opened that drawer these past few months you were always secretly hoping that it wouldn’t be there and would always feel the disappointment when it continued to be there out of your sight. How poetic you thought idly as Elvis forced open that locked drawer after curiosity over the glass clinking sound had gotten the better of him.

Recognizing the bottle he let out a dark chuckle. “Well I’ll be damned. Thought you didn’t take gifts from us patients, Doc?” he said, very much amused as he used his teeth to take the cork out. “Don’t worry though mama,” he paused taking a swig, “I forgive ya’. Least I could do after all ya’ gave tonight.” 

Shaking both in shock and humiliation, you grabbed the bottle and after nursing it for a beat too long, you proceeded to ride him to oblivion as he sat in your own desk chair in some twisted attempt to regain control of the situation. Though the closer you got to your peak, it became clear that this was all in vain. The way he sat there, lounging back, one hand behind his head and the other leaving finger-sized bruises on your rear, guiding you as you desperately chased your release, he was the very image of a King on his throne. It was on that thought that you proceeded to shatter around him once again that night, drifting as he whispered in your ear what a good girl you were. 

The rest of the night proceeded as a blur as the next conscious thought you had would be wondering how you were going to get to work the next day as he drove you home in his own car. You don’t quite remember giving him directions, but for the sake of your sanity you just assumed you did. And in some perverted form of chivalry, he even walked you to your front door and gave you a tender, almost sweet, kiss as though he didn’t have you bent over your own desk not even an hour ago, before departing into the night. 

You’re in a fugue state as you work toward your nightly routine. You don’t taste your dinner, you don’t hear the music from your neighbor’s radio, and you especially don’t feel his cum flaking on the skin beneath your blouse. Nope. Definitely not. You’re too ashamed to even look at yourself going so far as to shower with your lights off. 

As you settle into bed that night, your sleep is fitful as you try your best to decide what to do about this night. In the end, with all the evidence of your tryst washed away, you resolve to ignore these feelings at the very least until you have to see him again. 

What you can’t ignore the next morning is your car, that had no business being there, in its usual spot, along with your keys in the ignition. Not really trying to think too hard on the implications you would rush to work hoping to clean up before your first client of the day.

To your surprise everything in your office is already in order: No furniture askew, no suspicious stains on the desk or chairs, not even the panties that you swore didn’t come home with you anywhere in sight. The only proof that last night even happened at all was the broken desk drawer and the slight tenderness on your ass.

The days following that session were hazy at best to you as, even during work, your mind was occupied by him. You formulated plans as to how best to address what happened and why it must never happen again. Elvis has always had a reputation as a bit of a cad, so perhaps you can both treat this as a one time thing. Something that he had to get out of his system in order to successfully further his treatment. Even in session he confessed that he had trouble with maintaining monogamy to almost all of his previous partners - though, you thought, he did immediately follow that up with the justification that he was looking for the “right” girl. 

You pushed that notion away, he will understand - he has to understand - that it would be better to return to the previous professional relationship. So come Thursday morning, you take steps to effectively unsex yourself; no makeup, loose fitting pants and blazer, hair in a less than flattering style, the whole nine yards. All of this done in an effort to make yourself a less viable option for a sexual partner .

As you leave your apartment you catch a glimpse of your ill-fitting attire and you can’t help but be reminded how as a child you would wear your fathers suits and declare you were going to be a Doctor like him. As you would swim in his oversized coat, you remember feeling lucky to receive a dismissive glance your way and monotone orders to return the clothes back where you found them. You rush out to your car before you can dwell on that train of thought.

If your other patients noticed your sudden change in style that day, no one mentioned it. You had previously taken pride in the level of professionalism you were able to maintain, but in the grand scheme of things, looking frumpy for one day of work could hardly be deemed the worst thing you have done. 

As 4 PM rolled around you were still in the process of convincing yourself that you were ready to confront this head on by not confronting it and acting as though nothing ever happened. You can do this- you have to do this- you told yourself. 

4:15 PM, you were ready for the knock on the door that would not come that night. 

4:30 PM, you were still waiting in a rigid state with your pen and notebook clenched in your hands, full attention at the wooden door, like a dog waiting for its owner to come home. You shudder at the comparison. 

4:45 PM, you were justifying his tardiness with his upcoming concert, and even with your barebones knowledge of performing, you realize that these types of things are planned weeks, even months in advance. And so you wait.

5 PM and you’re already mentally packing up to go back to your apartment. You know that all of your things are sitting at your desk but you wanted to spend as little time looking at it as possible. These past few days, you had the irrational fear that even so much as looking at where your indiscretion happened would tip off everybody. You disregard that reflexive response that makes you clench your thighs together when you look in its direction. 

5:15 PM you can no longer ignore the stiffness in your back but you're doing your best to disregard the feeling of rejection that has settled in the pit of your stomach. Because this seems to be the place where you make your worst decisions, you decide to pull out that damned bottle of wine. You see the teeth marks on the cork, and you push down the part of you that blushes at the thought of putting your mouth where his was. 

It is in that moment with the stopper wrenched free and you thinking about a man you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about, does the shrill tone of your office phone ring. It’s embarrassing really how quickly your hand shoots to answer it, moreso when you answer with a mouthful of cork. 

“Hww-” you quickly spit it out. “Hello this is Dr. Y/L/N.”

It is little comfort when you recognize the voice. 

“Baby I’m so sorry that I missed tonight, but I coulda swore I told one a my boys to let ya’ know I wouldn’t make it.” he said apologetically. “We got rehearsal’s all this week for Saturday and my minds been all over the damn place.”

Baby, you thought as you took a quick gulp of wine. Early on, he had slipped and called you tha, maybe a month or two into his treatment. You, as gently as you could, informed him how you would appreciate it if he wouldn’t refer to you as such. He reassured you that he meant nothing by it as he apparently calls everyone that from time to time. You accepted that answer and didn’t say anything the few times he would say it later on. 

Looking at the bottle in your hand, you had spent the last few days blaming it for being your first misstep in your career, but retrospect is funny like that and you’re now realizing it was one in a series of many over the last year. With him continually elbowing his way back into your life, you doubt it will be your last. 

“That’s alright Mr. Presley, just please don’t let this happen again in the future.” is your response, wanting to end this conversation as quickly as possible. “I’ll see you for your next session on Monday.” 

“Speakin’ a that. I was hoping we could reschedule today for Saturday,” he said before you could lift the receiver from your ear. 

“Mr Presley, I don’t work on Saturday’s,” you half-heartedly protested. 

“Then you’re free,” he quickly countered. “Doc, it’s just that… I’mma need some help gettin’ my head straight before the show, cause it’s been over a year since I done this, and even longer since I done a show sober.”

You immediately clock what he’s trying to do, and for all the ill-advised actions you’ve taken in the last week, you didn’t get your license out of a cracker jack box. “Elvis, that is in no way appropri-”

“Well it’s the show,” he quickly cuts you off. There is a dark edge to his tone as he continues. “And what happened on Monday. I think I really need to talk to someone ‘bout it.”

It doesn’t have to be you, goes unsaid.

He’s got you there and you know it, and currently you’re in no state of mind to try to find a way around this. So rather than doing anything semi-responsible and enforcing the boundary you have set, you down most of what’s left of the bottle and agree. 

“Darlin’ that’s perfect. If there’s one thing I can promise, it's a helluva show” You can almost feel the self-satisfied grin over the phone. “I also been thinkin’ ‘bout what you said with not lettin’ people know that you’re my therapist, and you’re right.”

The neck of the bottle is clenched so tightly in your fist, you’re concerned it may shatter at this point. That earlier feeling of rejection being quickly replaced with dread.

“So I think I best I send you a lil’ somethin’ to wear for the show, I want them knowin’ you’re my girl, not my shrink, and you don’t exactly dress the part Doll.” he says this with such a cool authority that leaves no room for argument.

You stared off into space with this offer. You’re idly reminded of months ago when you had him practice an exercise in control. He did, you observed, have an excessive need for control in almost every aspect of his life, but this mindset also held the detrimental effect that everything that went wrong was also his fault due to the control he felt. So you came up with this exercise so you could both figure out where it is reasonable to be in control, and in which places he could relinquish it a bit. One aspect he mentioned that he often controlled was the way his girlfriends dressed, which you will admit made you do a double take. The only thing you commented on that detail was that so long as both parties were consenting he was truly not in control of the entire situation. 

Doll indeed, you think bitterly. Did he take it as a challenge? Whatever the case may be, one thing becomes evident. You have no doubt what his intentions are anymore, no overwhelming emotions clouding his judgment, nor any post-orgasmic high having him say things he doesn’t mean. 

As you look at the near empty bottle of wine while you sit in the room where your career has lived and will inevitably die, you can hardly say the same thing about yourself.

Mark had insisted you keep it that night months ago, and after realizing that there was no way of returning it to Elvis without bringing up the incident again, you kept it in your office for the sole reason that it felt wrong to keep it in your apartment. Too Intimate, you had thought. You begin to wonder how your life would have been had you told Mark why you wished to refuse the wine. Maybe you would have been strong enough to put your foot down and keep this relationship professional… or maybe he would have taken the same approach you took, and let it slide under the guise of Elvis not knowing any better at the time. Elvis seemed to have that effect on people, of wanting to justify his actions in spite of it everything.

Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the way he sounded when exhausted, or just maybe it was looking into Pandora's proverbial drawer and finally finding those lost panties with the evidence of your attraction to him stained into the fabric. Whatever it was you found yourself finishing off the bottle and agreeing to his requests - demands really-  and drunkenly trying your best to rationalize to yourself why you shouldn’t burn your license to ash at this very moment. 

The next day rolls around and you return to your normal wardrobe. Though that morning you can’t help but take an extra long look at it as though the promised new addition will change it fundamentally. You chalk that thought up to you still being hungover. As the day continues, you try your best to be more attentive to your patients that day, because even if you failed to do so once, these people deserve a space free from your own personal issues.

You’re not surprised to be met with a package at your doorstep, though the colored box and large bow it arrives in are a bit much for what you assumed to be a single dress. What you’re met with inside is in fact a full outfit complete with even the undergarments you assume you’re expected to wear. The style itself so far from your typical business professional taste, it circles into the territory of a disguise. You even have to admit that there is an air of brilliance to it, since you doubt even you would be able to recognize yourself in this outfit.

Though in that regard, you already have a lot of trouble doing so lately.

Your tentative plan as of right now is to attend the concert and take part in this impromptu therapy session, and you will discuss with him what happened and explain why it is in fact critical to his mental well-being that this affair goes no further. You begrudgingly admit that come Monday, you will have to start from square one with him, but this is the only path forward you can see anymore.

That Saturday morning is devoted to running in and out of grocery stores, trying to gather as many tabloids featuring Elvis as possible, if you’re going to -temporarily- play the part he wants you to play, you will have to look like it. The rest of the day is devoted to primping and preening to get said right look. This brings back memories from undergrad, you and a friend preparing for a double date and Priscilla, along with various other celebrity faces, taped to the mirror for inspiration. Specifically you remember after being able to achieve her dramatic cat eye, your friend joking that if this college thing didn’t work out for you, you could put in an application for being Elvis’ next girl. You laughed at how preposterous that idea was at the time.

Your thoughts of the past are quickly interrupted by rapid knocking at your front door, and you quickly put the finishing touches on your makeup and throw on the ensemble. At the door you’re met with a familiar blonde whose apparent agitation swiftly surpasses whatever momentary discomfort he clearly feels at encountering you once again. Though in that moment you’re at least grateful Elvis had the good sense to not involve anyone else in this matter (that and the fact he didn’t send a limo).

Getting into the car you’re praying for a long and silent trip to the show. Jerry not reading the room says to you “Sorry for rushing you out the door back there, um…” he says. “It’s just been a bit of a crazy week, and the Boss is just wigging out about every single detail.”

“I understand” you attempt to placate, wishing for this exchange to end as soon as possible. “You have a job to do.”

“By the looks of it, so do you,” he says in an attempt to joke, though he quickly cuts himself off after seeing you tense up. He quickly apologizes and as you turn to look out the window, you hear what sounds like a flask being opened and Jerry downing a good portion of it. 

You resist the urge to demand a shot of whatever he’s drinking because, as poorly timed as that joke was, you are on the clock. And for as unprofessional as you have been lately, you don’t think you’ve quite gotten to the level of drinking right before a session. Because that’s what this is: an emergency/supplemental session that will precede a momentous occasion for your patient, and out of respect for his privacy, you are in disguise so that no one will know he’s even seeing a therapist. You’re hoping the more you tell yourself that the less ridiculous it will sound.

And due to the fact you're on the job you reason, it may be best to get an idea of his state before going in. “How has he been today? I’m sure the stress of the event is getting to him,” you ask.

“Yeah, uhh… he’s been in a bit of a mood all day,” he says carefully.

“Meaning?” 

“He’s basically been sayin’ that he wouldn’t perform until he saw you,” he says, looking anywhere but at you.

And there it is, you think. You give a simple nod in acknowledgement to Jerry, as he is all too happy to let this conversation peter out. You now recognize what Elvis is attempting and using Jerry as a proxy for. Despite all your training that tells you that you’re not responsible for any actions your patients take, you feel yourself start to shoulder the burden of getting him to perform tonight. Not only that but it seems you also bear the responsibility of putting him in the right headspace to perform well tonight. 

The rest of the ride to the show itself is quiet, which you’re grateful for, as it gives you time to steel yourself. Jerry as well seems to ease into a more relaxed demeanor the way one would when doing something that has become routine. It seems he’s no stranger to ferrying women to the King of Rock and Roll. 

Regardless of the slight pang of sorrow you feel momentarily at that observation, you try to see the upside to it. That this… thing with Elvis, your patient you have to remind yourself, will be short-lived. 

Arriving at the venue, you are immediately led backstage, and you’re not sure you can write off the feeling that everyone was watching you to paranoia on your part. Whatever it was, you surmised, there were more than a few people beyond Elvis expecting your arrival. As you were ushered to his dressing room, you felt equal parts dread and anticipation as to what would be on the other side.

What you weren’t expecting was your office. Though that may be a stretch, you can’t seem to find the logic in a dressing room having two chairs facing each other with a small table between them complete with a box of tissues right on top. The entire arrangement takes up an inordinate amount of space in an already cramped room, and you can’t help but conclude that it is intentional. 

You find the man of the hour in an open robe (sans shirt, though thankfully with pants on) sitting cross legged on the sofa in what you recognize to be a meditative position. You wouldn’t say he is quite disheveled, but every time you’ve seen him, he’s looked nothing less than immaculate. So finding him in this state with his hair undone and no ostentatious clothing is slightly jarring. Upon hearing the door open he cracks open one eye, and seeing you his face breaks into that handsome grin you’ve become far too familiar with. “Y/N, baby you’re here.” he says feigning surprise.

Not even acknowledging what he just said, you make your way into the room and Jerry, clearly just as disturbed by the setup, closes the door behind you. You glance at the clock on the wall showing that you had a little over 2 hours until the concert was set to start, just enough time for a full session and then some for him to get ready for the show. There is no way this was not meticulously planned, you conclude. 

You sit down placing your bag on the floor, as he takes his time to stretch out for a bit before he strolls his way to sit astride the chair across from you. There with an amused look on his face, he says nothing apparently wanting you to start. 

Considering there is no protocol as to how to conduct a session in this highly specific situation, and not wanting to immediately open with the elephant in the room, you decide to begin with just idle chit chat. “So… um, I didn't know you practiced meditation.”

“Yeah, it was somethin’ I picked up in San Diego,” he says off-handedly.

“I’m glad that it works for you,” you say as neutrally as possible. 

“Oh, it don’t,'' he clarifies. “It works in gettin’ everyone to leave me the fuck alone for awhile. But not in the other ways it’s supposed to.”

You nod your head in acknowledgement as he continues. “I got into yoga when I was down there too.”

“Do you find that works better for you?”

“Yeah,” he verifies. “When I feel somethin’ real bad, I gotta move. It don’t matter how.” This makes sense as he's a very physical person. You are aware of his love for Karate, and you briefly consider recommending he pick up Tai Chi as a happy medium between meditation and martial arts to help him in achieving mindfulness. Your thoughts are interrupted as he continues. “Too bad I ain’t been able to practice in a while.”

“And why is that?” you softly probe.

“I been needin” a partner,” he said with a sly grin, very much an offer.

There’s your opening, you think to yourself. This is the moment you can make a bid to reinforce some level of boundaries between the two of you. Where you can tell him that Monday was a mistake and should never happen again. That this infatuation with you is in fact detrimental to his mental well-being and will destroy your career. And most importantly that there is no future between the two of you.

“Elvis, please” you say, exhaling in frustration. “About what happened on Monday… I think it would be best if we-”

“Well,” he chimes in, “I think it best we save that talk for another time,” his severe delivery leaving no room for argument. Fear grips your throat as he continues in a notably softer tone, “Everything out there is ready for me to play, but up here,” he says, putting two fingers to his temple. “I don’t know ‘bout. Darlin’ I need your help right now, because I can’t do this without you”

Almost everything within you says to push forward no matter what, and tell him right here and now. The one thing that stops you is knowing for a fact he will be devastated with what you have to say. And then what? You leave and he’s unable to perform, leaving hundreds devastated. And come Monday will he even show up, or will he make the call and have you immediately reported for your part in this whole ordeal. Not to mention the long-term variables of if he will even want to continue therapy should you fail to get him ready tonight.

You sigh in defeat, as it appears you have no choice but to concede on this matter and focus on the immediate task at hand. “So you mentioned over the phone that your head’s been all over the place this week. Tell me, is this how you normally feel in the days leading up to a performance?” 

He looks pleased with your question and answers “Not in the last few years no. I mean, first time in Vegas it was a little like this, but after a while that all became routine.”

He leans his chair back and reaches behind him to the vanity table to reach for a glass of water. This angle puts his full chest on display and you can’t help but rake your eyes over the hair there and follow the trail of it down to his-

Focus, you think to yourself.

He offers you a glass, and in spite of how dry your mouth feels at the moment, you are trying to no longer accept anything from him at this point regardless of how small, so you refuse. “Tell ya’ what though,” he says, taking a sip. “I ain’t feel this nervous since my early days of performin’ and I would shake somethin’ fierce on stage,” he laughs a little at this statement. “That’s actually parta where all my dancin’ came from.” 

“I see.”

It’s unsettling how you could almost mistake the rest of your time together as a typical session with him. The only cosmetic differences being the harsh lighting from the vanity behind him and the uncomfortable feeling from the leather chair sticking to the back of your thighs. You’re also at a bit of a loss as to what to do with your hands without anything to take notes in, and the outfit has you feeling particularly vulnerable. As for his part you doubt you’ve ever seen him this relaxed in your presence before; leaning back with his legs spread and his robe exposing a mouth-watering amount of his torso. If you had to guess, it may have something to do with you being in his territory so to speak, as opposed to the typical setting of your office. Or maybe he’s just into your humiliation.

Aside from those factors, you would have even labeled today as a successful session… that is until the conversation takes a turn.

“I’ve done what feels like a thousand shows, most of them without all that crap Nic was pumping me with, but it feels like… I don’t know. Like that was some other guy that was performin’ and that he ain’t here tonight.”  

“This ‘other guy’ has he always been a part of the way you perform?” 

“I ain’t feel like myself on stage in a long time.” he said morosely.

“Elvis, I want you to try to recall a concert where you did feel like your true self. It doesn’t have to be the last time you felt this way, just the most memorable.” You replied leaning forward.

The half smirk that creeps on to his face makes you regret that question though. “Actually the show that comes to mind is the comeback special. You seen it before?” he asked. 

Yes. “...No, I-I believe I missed that one,” you manage to stutter out.

He grins knowingly, “Well they had me in front of an audience, maybe less than a hundred people and had me dressed all in leather with only a small square for a stage. In spite all that I felt free especially since Parker had almost nothin’ to do with it,” he said wistfully. “He chewed me out later for it, sayin’ shit like how it was no real audience and that they were told when to clap. But I knew…”

His hungry gaze meets yours and you feel a kin to prey about to be devoured. “You wanna know how I knew?” he said.

In spite of your gut instinct that you are delving into dangerous territory with this conversation, you’re far too curious at this point. So you try to swallow that uneasy feeling and reply in the affirmative.

“I came in my pants,” he says, taking a sip of his water, as neutral and matter of fact as if he were just telling you what he ate for dinner last night. 

“Wh-what?” you said, for the first time in your career, truly at a loss for words. 

Sex certainly wasn’t a taboo subject to discuss with your patients, and it wasn’t even the first time you discussed it with Elvis himself. But those conversations typically surrounded your patient's fears of intimacy with a new partner, and even though that wasn’t a concern for Elvis, he did make reference to it when discussing his need to please others. Most importantly though when discussing sex with a patient, you’ve never actually had the experience with them.

“It was the weirdest thing, Doc. Never happened before, hasn’t happened since,” he said, at complete ease with himself. “Sure a few close calls here and there, but it never got to that point. Hell, it mighta been the suit itself that did it for me. What ya’ think it means doll?”

And what can you say to that really? You try to even out your shallow breathing as your mind races through the possible implications of this reaction. You have certainly never met another performer before so you’re unsure whether this is even unusual to those in his line of work, but at the same time most people who do what they love for a living also aren’t sexually aroused by it, let alone reach climax through it alone. Previously you would have labeled yourself as firmly within that category, but that damp feel beneath your dress proves otherwise. 

Across from you, he waits patiently for your reply, but he is also openly delighted by your squirming state. 

“I-” you clear your throat. “Um… Sex is a perfectly natural thing.”

“Don’t I know it,” he smiles rakishly.

“Yes I…” you say, briefly losing your train of thought. “A way of interpreting the… arousal you feel on stage is that being there and performing in front of an audience comes just as naturally to you. As for what happened at your special, it may have been the moment you felt most acutely aware of your desire to be on stage.”

He nods his head and you continue. “You’ve mentioned previously how you were unsatisfied by your movie career by that point in time. So the return to the stage may have also acted as a cathartic release of all these pent up frustrations you were feeling up until that moment.” 

He raises an eyebrow at that in the way he typically does when he’s confused by your wording. “Basically you were feeling unhappy for a long period of time, so when you felt the joy of being back on stage, you’re…” you hesitate, suddenly embarrassed. “Body, as a result misinterpreted that joy as arousal. And adding to that, Parker’s disapproval as well as the feeling of being free that you described. It all culminated into that… reaction.”

He sits on your presumption for a moment, before chuckling a bit. “I see where you’re comin’ from on that doc. Though I gotta ask.”

You pause, apprehensive to what he may ask. “Ask what?”

“What are my chances for a repeat performance tonight?” he asks in a way you could almost mistake as innocent. As you feel close to hyperventilating, he continues. “I mean those things you brought up from the special are here tonight sooo…” he quirks an eyebrow, putting it on you to continue.

“...well… um” you draw out, truly dumbfounded and without any words to respond to that. You’re only saved from this conversation by hurried knocking at the door behind you. 

“Well, looks like we’re outta time here doc,” he said standing up, prompting you to stand up as well. With a hand on your lower back guiding you to the door, you don’t miss the fact he’s effectively dismissing you. “Baby, thank ya’ for comin’ down here tonight and settin’ me right. And I just want you knowin’ that this whole show is because of you. I don’t think I woulda made it this far without my girl” he said looking down at you and bringing you close while his other hand was on the doorknob. 

Your primary focus is trying your best to collect yourself before you need to go out there, but you’re so astonished by how he just so casually slipped in “my girl” into there. You know then you have to say something.

“But… I’m not your gir-” you quickly cut yourself off as you see his jaw clench, the previous look of satisfaction on a dime replaced with one of intense indignation at your denial. Before you can even begin to feel regret for your refusal, his expression just as rapidly shifts to one of downright mischief. 

Not wanting to find out what that look meant, you attempt to turn towards the door, only to be halted by an iron-like grip on your jaw. “Not my girl, huh?” he says, forcing you  to look at him, as he brings his face closer to yours. He then whispers, his lips just barely brushing yours, “tell that to them.” 

You can’t say you weren’t expecting him to bring his lips closer to yours, but you can say you weren’t expecting to be such a willing participant this time around. You can tell yourself all you want that you did it to save him from the embarrassment of being walked in on with a less than willing woman, but it seems, deep down, the both of you knew better. So you played your part as you grabbed a fistful of hair at the nape of his neck as your lips came together, and he was all too willing to believe in your role as his hand snaked down your back. You’ll never fully know (or at least admit) who closed the distance that night.  

All you really know is that being in here with him as he was now, was nothing short of intoxicating, in a way it had never felt in your office. You were not one to participate in drugs, but as his tongue slips past your lips to wrap around your own, you truly believe you could become addicted to this. His scent, his taste, his touch, all of it threatened to consume you whole and never let you go.

He was so all consuming in fact, you barely registered the sound of the door opening beside you, but you definitely don’t miss what feels like a dozen sets of eyes in full view of the both of you. You’re aware that you should in fact be more embarrassed of your compromising position with your arms thrown around his neck and his hand firmly on your ass. But with all the shame you’ve been feeling this past week, this hardly registers as the worst. Though you do feel a spark of it when he pulls away, and you let out a small whine from being denied his plush lips, until you feel them near the shell of your ear. 

His breathy demand for another session after the show is hard to deny in your state, and more so when you see the color of your lipstick haphazardly smeared across his downright sinful smirk. It goes without saying what that will entail, but you surprise even yourself by not immediately running for the hills. Instead you, with all the grace of a newborn fawn, stumble past a line of people rearing to get in and do their job. This venture, not at all aided by the playful swat he gives your behind. The “knowing” looks on some of their faces tells you what they are all assuming. Part of you wishes they were right, because doing that would somehow have been less shameful than what actually happened.

After that “session” you try to compose yourself as best as you can, and make your way to the ladies room. Alone in the restroom you see your face in the mirror and to your relief aside from the smudged lipstick, you look relatively fine. You reach for your bag to touch it up, only to realize that you forgot to grab it when he was leading you to the door. As you shudder at the thought of going back to retrieve it, you finally realize how much of a sopping mess you’ve made of your underwear. 

Insanity is truly your only defense for your next course of action, as you quickly remove your panties and dispose of them. 

After cleaning yourself up a bit, you end up wandering around backstage with a new resolve to not think about him. You still have roughly another hour to kill before the show is set to start, so unsure what to do with yourself until that time, you attempt to strike up conversations with your fellow VIPs. Your attempt at keeping your mind off of him proves fruitless though, as it becomes apparent that word travels fast behind the curtains, and their interest in you begins and ends with Elvis. You’re flooded with questions as to what he’s going to wear tonight, what he’s going to sing, if there will be an afterparty at Graceland and subsequent requests for you to try to get them invited. The only time any questions are directed at you, it’s simply polite inquiry as to where you met him and how long you’ve known him, and you try to be as vague and non-descript as possible.

One woman remarks how she thinks she saw you in a magazine last week along with “the big man himself.”

“Guilty,” you reply with a nervous laugh, because you truly are. How would you even begin to try to explain the truth?

You are able to meet most of the members of the so-called “Memphis Mafia,” and get the rundown as to who does what in the group after asking in an effort to get a basic conversation going. It doesn’t go unnoticed that none of them ask what you do for a living, only mildly interested in the fact you’re the new girl, as though being Elvis’ “girl” is supposed to occupy the totality of your existence. Usually you would take offense to this, but under these circumstances, you know the fewer in the know, the better. 

You don’t think you’ve ever truly considered the world he lives in until this moment. A world in which he’s surrounded on all sides by women that want him, and by men that admire and/or envy him. What does that do to a mind when everybody he meets falls into one of those two categories? How would one handle someone who doesn’t fit into either category? 

Eventually though Jerry finds you and brings you to your seat, front row and center, because of course Elvis would. You know from his stories about his Vegas residency that he would often kiss women in the front row, and you already have a feeling as to how this is going to play out. As Jerry leaves, you contemplate making a break for it at this point, but without your purse, that idea is quickly tossed out.  

You look around your area and breathe a sigh of relief at the fact that all are virtually unrecognizable. You know from the tabloids that this concert was deemed one for the ages already, being essentially his second comeback and with rumors flying around that there would be more than a few international attendants this fact is not all too surprising. There’s a small swelling of pride within you knowing that he is so loved worldwide that you quickly try to stamp down.

As the curtain goes up and the music starts to blare, you make the conscious decision that at this moment you are not his therapist, and that you are merely a fan. That you will be without worries at the state of your career right now, without fear that the APA is breathing down your neck, and definitely without any guilt to the sexual attraction you feel for him at this moment. Afterall you’re a fan, isn’t that just par for the course?

So as he steps on stage and immediately makes eye contact with you, you play your part. You get lost in it even, as you dance and sing and make a fool of yourself. He’s just… incredible doesn’t even begin to describe what he is as you’ve never seen someone move like he does, never felt music as you did in this moment. There’s not a single inch of the stage that’s not occupied by his presence as he’s able to keep the crowd fully enraptured for music they’ve undoubtedly heard hundreds of times before. His command over everything truly brings a new perspective to his King epithet. 

Despite your best efforts you cannot help but think of the comeback special incident and in the brief moments between songs you can’t help but observe and this makes you feel all the more  like a voyeur. In spite of the fact that there’s a couple hundred people watching the same show you are, they aren’t cursed with what you know. Unintentionally you read into every gyration, every hip thrust, even every time he throws his head back looking for any indication. You had thought about what he looks like in the throes of ecstasy an inordinate amount of times already this week, so you even compare every face he makes up there as well. 

Eventually, after two demands for an encore, Elvis merely has to put a finger to his lips to command the rowdy crowd down. “Now before I go,” he pauses with a slight quirk in his lips as he hears their protests, but continues with “I’m gonna leave y’all with somethin’ new.” This statement is met with uproarious applause as he gestures to the band behind him and begins. 

Want me to love you in moderation?

Do I look moderate to you?

Not even two lyrics in, you know you’re in trouble. Previously he had the decency to not single you out as he worked the entire crowd in front of him, but as he sings you know exactly who he’s directing this song to. 

And are you any better? Like the other women in the front row you move to the stage, as you're overpowered with the urgent need to be as close to him as possible. You’re overwhelmed with just about everything at this point: the audience, the song, him, and all your conflicting emotions this past week all reach a crescendo as he kneels on the stage before you. You’re crowded by his fans all reaching out to touch him as though he were some divine being. But you knew better.

Girl, you better learn

Can’t hold it in,

And girl you better learn

I just can’t win

Cause I don’t see the worth

I don’t see the worst

He is something monstrous, demonic almost. Elvis is a siren-like creature who is leading you to your doom. As he leans down closer to you, you stand on your toes, willing your knees to not give in at a time like this. The women around you flock even closer, all trying to get a piece of him, while he puts a hand underneath your chin, his eyes challenging you to stop him. He may very well be a siren but you’re his victim who is all too happy to drown at this point.

And I’m still tryna figure out if it

Always

Always 

Always 

Has to hurt

Unlike the last few times, you were very much prepared for this kiss. At least you were, until he proceeded to lean away from you and plant the kiss on the woman directly next to you. Time slows at this moment, truly forcing you to take in every single detail of what is happening not even a foot away from your face. He kisses her with all the filth and passion you were craving in that moment, and she just as enthusiastically kisses him back. 

His face is glistening with sweat from his performance that runs down onto her, but this woman doesn’t seem to mind. She will leave this concert and forever be able to have an interesting anecdote to tell at every party she will ever attend. This will be her one crazy story to tell about Elvis Presley, and the more logical side of you truly envies that about her. 

Finally, after what was perhaps only seconds but felt like an eternity, he breaks away from the kiss, though that doesn’t ease the heavy stone that has settled in your stomach. You want to cry, you want to scream, and judging from the state of the women around you, you wouldn’t be at all out of place. You’re upset that you’re in this position, you’re devastated over the fact that this is the man who holds your career in the palm of his hand, and most of all, you’re heartbroken that you even wanted him to kiss you at that moment.

Did he not see you? Did he mistake her for you? Shouldn’t you be glad about this new development? That hundreds of people weren’t witness to you flagrantly breaking every rule and ethical responsibility you made upon becoming a therapist? 

He answers all these questions with the single look he gives you as he stands before you, his lips now stained red from that random woman. 

You want looove

You feel a tug at your elbow as Jerry once more guides you backstage. Elvis for his part shamelessly watches you walk away all the while belting out those final lyrics of his song. As the lights from the stage blink out, and the crowd proceeds to explode in near-deafening screams and hollers, and you see him bow out as the curtain drops. You try to make yourself numb to it all as you make your way through the bustling corridors, but in reality you can’t ignore your heartbeat thundering through you, nor the uncomfortably slick feeling between your thighs. 

You have to get out of there and you know it. But you also want to stay and there’s no denying that. You have accepted that he has an unhealthy attachment towards you, and you naively thought you could work to dismantle it over the next few months to get him back on track. But seeing him kiss that other woman made you realize that this attachment threatens to be mutual, and that is truly where it will derail. 

Before you can figure out what you’re going to do, you’re back in front of his dressing room door and you walk in not even having bothered to knock. You find him along with several members of his crew already in there but upon seeing you he grins and a simple wave of his hand has them all scurrying out, leaving the two of you alone. He stays seated at the vanity, too comfortable apparently, with his feet propped up, the upper half of his suit peeled off of him, and a towel around his neck. He doesn’t even bother to fully turn around to look at you directly, he simply watches you through the mirror. 

“You enjoy the show Darlin’?” he says, lightly dabbing himself with the towel. “It sure as hell looked like you did out there.” 

Despite knowing he saw how you behaved, you still try to lie with an indifferent, “You did good up there.”

“Ahh, baby” he draws out in a light teasing tone. “Don’t be like that. Why don’t you come over here and tell daddy what’s wrong?” Your breath hitches at his casual use of that word and you find your feet making the decision for you. You make your way over to him and you finally find your purse on top of the vanity. You go to grab it but in one fluid motion he grabs your hand and you find yourself on his lap. As he leans forward for a kiss, you see the red that still paints his lips and without even thinking you use the towel to wipe some of it off. 

He makes a pleased hum at that, believing that this is what has you acting this way. 

Is it not though? You think sarcastically. After rubbing off most of the color you drop the towel letting it fall back into place on his chest. He takes your hand into his, and your heart does an embarrassing little skip as he gives it a sweet kiss.

“Baby, I was raised to be a gentleman,” he said, adopting a chivalrous affect. “If my bestest girl don’t like me kissin’ others, all she’s gotta do is say so. Then I ain’t never gonna do it again.” His eyes pleading as he waits for your answer.

So that’s what his plan was, you think bitterly. You’re resentful over the fact that it worked at all. But he doesn’t need to know that.

You rip your hand away from him as you reply with as much resolve as you can gather, “You can do whatever you want Elvis,” before mulishly looking away. He evidently didn’t like that answer, as he stood up to prop you onto the vanity and placed himself between your legs. You try to escape his grasp only for him to place his hands at the top of your thighs, effectively pinning you in place.

“I can do whatever I want?” he says in a low, challenging voice, looking you directly in your eyes. It is only then do you regret your wording. Were you not so petrified, you would have admired his ability to quickly turn your own dismissive words into seemingly an invitation. There is no denying the trembling force in your body at this point and with the way he’s holding it is only inevitable that he will find your secret. And as though reading your mind, you feel his thumb brushing your inner thigh, and he finally notices the slick feeling in between. If you're going to be honest with yourself, you think you’re even more wet than when you walked in.

He makes an approving hum as he flips your skirt up, and you get the momentary pleasure of seeing his eyes widen at your lack of underwear. That is until he quickly bunches up the material past your hips and you feel mortified at being naked from the waist down in a room you don’t remember locking. You’re even more mortified as he kneels down and begins to pepper your inner thighs with light kisses. You instinctively try to close your legs, but his grip makes it impossible, and he notices your effort.

“Ahh, sweetness none of that,” he drawls out, emphasizing his point with a small nibble at the sensitive flesh that has you cursing. You feel his hot breath waft over you and as you’re trying to wrap your head around what’s happening, he teasingly licks a stripe up your slit, giving you a taste of what he has to offer. You gasp for air as though you’re about to drown. 

“I can do what I want, can I?” he asks knowing you’re far too preoccupied to answer. “Well I want this,” he purrs, emphasizing his point with a soft kiss to your clit, which you meet with a strangled moan. He chuckles at your reaction before resting his head on your thigh and looking up at you. “But I gotta know what my girl wants,” he trails off.

Your muddled mind cannot even begin to process the question itself before he follows up with. “What’d ya’ say mama? Do you wanna be my girl?” he says looking up at you with those piercing blue eyes of his, and you know there is not even a choice anymore. You’re so far gone at this point, you hardly hesitate in saying yes. “No, no mama. I wanna hear you say it.”

You can already feel a few shameful tears trailing down as you cover your face with your hands, as though that will absolve you of your next words. “Yes… I want to be your girl,” you cry out desperately, and he dives straight in. 

All of your composure is tossed out the window the moment you feel his mouth on your needy cunt, you moan and shout freely, no thoughts given to the people undoubtedly outside of the door. He’s going at an unhurried languid pace, exploring your nether regions, seemingly trying to learn what gets the biggest reaction out of you. He’s apparently indifferent to how desperately you need to cum. You grab at his hair and try to bring him closer, desperate for some control of this situation but the noticeable tightening of his grip on your legs make it clear that he’s going to take all the time he wants.

You’re there for what feels like hours before you’re at the point of begging him to let you cum. The King finally takes mercy on you as he stuffs his fingers into you while simultaneously nursing at your clit as you are finally allowed your release.

You’re a mess after that devastating orgasm, and as he brings himself back up to you, you don’t put up a fight to this kiss. You taste yourself on his lips, and the smallest, pettiest part of you feels victorious over that woman whose name you will never get to learn. Before you can dwell on that part of yourself, he spins you around so you’re facing away from him. Despite all of that you still feel yourself wanting for more, and as you look over your shoulder at him, you know he is very aware of that.

“Were you watching mama?” he said, pressing kisses to your neck as he undoes his belt. “Were you sittin’ there, wonderin’ if I did it again, and that’s how you got this wet?” You let out a small keen as you feel his cock just barely brushing at your entrance, and he presses a hand on your back, prompting you to bend over the vanity fully. You give a slight shriek as you feel a sharp swat on your ass. “Answer me,” he growls out, sending another shiver down your spine. 

“Yes,” you say, pushing yourself backwards to him. 

Another swat on the other side, “Yes what?” he rasps.

“Yes daddy,” you nearly cry out and you bury your head into your arms in shame as he drives into you. Once slotted fully inside, he pauses giving you time to adjust to him. The stretch of him burns only slightly this time around, though mostly you feel satisfaction as he feels achingly familiar. 

“You don’t gotta worry mama,” he pants next to your ear. “I saved it all for you,” he says as he slowly begins to push his hips back and forth into you. You find yourself just as eager as you push backwards to keep him within. You close your eyes to the sensations, as this feels like the closest you’ve come to a reprieve in this whirlwind of a week he’s caused. You want to lose yourself here, and for once want to believe as he does that this is any way healthy or sustainable for the both of you. This delusion has the ability to ruin you, but for the moment you truly just want to indulge yourself in it.

Reality will always win out though. At some point he thrusts so hard, your feet no longer meet the ground, and you have to brace yourself on the mirror. Here in this position you’re truly forced to look at yourself for seemingly the first time as you truly are. You see your eyes bloodshot and pupils blown, your mascara trailing down your face, and, mortifyingly, you're drooling from the pleasure at not only what he’s doing to you but the sight you're met with in the mirror. You also see him behind you, looking more animal than man with the way he forces your hips to meet his pace and the snarl that mars his face. It’s all too much for you to handle. The only way to describe how hard you came in that moment would be violently, as you convulse and sob terribly at all the shame and pleasure you’re experiencing in that moment. 

You feel him pull out, and moments later you hear a shuddering howl as he paints your lower back with his cum, effectively marking you as his. You sob even harder with the realization you had not even been thinking about protection in the last week, and now you fear that there will be another cord that will forever tie you to him. 

If he sees your tears he ignores them and places a kiss on your cheek before sitting you down in front of the mirror. He lets you know that he has a press conference soon, but that he will meet you back home for the afterparty. He quickly dresses himself while you use a tissue to fix your makeup and try to make the wrinkles in your dress less noticeable. Once outside the door he hands you off to one of his men with orders to take you back to Graceland.

It is only as you’re pulling up to Graceland do you realize you gave no resistance whatsoever to his whims and didn’t even try to insist you go back to your own apartment. You pay no thought to that as you see there are already many of his people there to celebrate his astonishing performance, and the last thing you need is to draw more attention to yourself by being the one woman having a breakdown at the party. 

So you slip back into your role as his girl, though can you even say that it is simply a role anymore when you fully agreed to it. 

Eventually he arrives home and is met with all the praise and glory he has earned tonight. Yet he barely looks at anyone before he seemingly sweeps the room to zero in on you. He grins and approaches you to sweep you into a hungry kiss which is met with various wolf whistles and cheers from those around you. You are still playing your part for the audience you tell yourself. 

The rest of the night is spent on his arm essentially advertising to all attendants that you're his. Eventually he announces to no one in particular that he is starting to feel tired, and it feels like only moments later when a mass exodus occurs, no one daring to stay past their welcome. The grip he has on your waist though tells you that he has no plans of letting you go.

That night and the following day in Graceland you spend in a daze of fucking and resting and even more fucking, interspersed with conversation between the both of you. Surprisingly you find yourself opening up to him as well, and with the conversations being not so focused on him, it’s easy to pretend that this is even remotely natural. 

You do make a few attempts to leave that day, each time met with some pushback on his part to get you to stay. Each attempt is met with some excuse on his part be it being too early, his fans outside the gates, his exhausted state etc., and immediately following your concession, you are bombarded with physical affection and compliments as to how understanding and what a good you are for him. You allow yourself to indulge in this fantasy for a little while longer, and stay another night with him.

The next morning, reality sets back in, and there is no denying your active part in this anymore. He kisses you good morning and he reminds you that you have work today. You’re amazed that he hasn’t already made you cancel all of your appointments today, until you remember who you have your final session with later. You shower and use his toothbrush, no longer hesitating to do something you would previously labeled as far too intimate to do with anyone, let alone a patient.

You are however disturbed but not surprised when you exit the restroom and find a full outfit ready for you. This one is more in line with your regular work attire but the blouse does have a rather loud pattern, a far cry from your admittedly limited, colorwise, wardrobe. Without the tags, you briefly wonder if this is something left behind by the previous stand-ins or if he bought it for one of them to better pretend they were you. You push that thought aside as you finish getting ready for the day. Being early on a Monday morning you are able to be driven to your office without the worry of any ogling eyes. He even gives you a parting kiss at the door and it feels far more domestic than it has any right to be.

You would deem that day almost normal. You are of course exhausted from the strange weekend you had, but somehow you also feel unfettered when compared to the stressful week you had previously. You receive some compliments on your blouse, and you are able to, through tightlips, confirm yes when someone asks if you got it from someone special. 

Other than that you are able to get back to your standard attentive self for your patients. Having worked with Elvis for nearing a year at this point, has had the unexpected benefit of making your other patients seem easier in comparison. You laugh at their funny stories, you dole out advice and insights when asked, and you comfort them when needed. These moments in between your nearly all encompassing thoughts around Elvis, you find, are a welcome respite from the looming black cloud that is your future as a therapist. 

Eventually though 4:30 PM arrives and you hear a knock at the door.

[imzadi-caskett-huddy]

It Started With a Kiss (8/?)

Thanks so much, everyone for your reviews on the last chapter! I’m so glad you all enjoyed my take on the Alex Conrad situation. And now for one of my favorite episodes of the show, To Love and Die in LA. Seriously, this episode is in my top 5…maybe even top 3 depending on my mood that day.

Date wise, the last chapter took place around April 11, and this one takes place around May 2. So that’s a 3 week time gap. Wonder what our favorite couple got up to after the way Kate kissed him in the last chapter, hmm?

Again, I want to remind you that this will be the last update on this story until after I return from vacation on June 15…and Hell Hath No Fury will be due for an update first. So enjoy this one, because it will most likely be several weeks before I get around to writing the next chapter. I promise I’ll get it up as soon as I can though!

Also…there is a section rated M in this chapter. It is clearly marked where you will want to stop reading, and then when it ends. It’s sex heavy, but not smut heavy. Still, read at your own peril, lol!

I still don’t own Castle…

xxxxx

Castle had barely seen Beckett since that night 3 weeks ago when she’d kissed him. The first week she’d been tied up prepping with an ADA for a trial, which worked out with him needing to finish a couple of chapters for the next Heat book, as well as some edits. And then Gina and Paula had worked together to ambush him with some promotional book signings and appearances in an effort to drum up more presales for his newest novel, not to mention the graphic novel for Storm that was being put together.

He’d seen her exactly twice…both times at the precinct when he’d brought her coffee. Neither time for very long, so they hadn’t been able to discuss their relationship or if the kiss she’d given him was a sign she was ready to move forward, but she had made time to spend several minutes with him in the break room since he had come all the way to the precinct just to bring her coffee. They would spend those ten minutes or so in the break room together, innocently flirting and occasionally standing just close enough to brush up against each other. And it always ended with the most brilliant smile from her, thanking him for the coffee. Castle knew he would go out of his way to bring her coffee every day for the rest of his life if she continued to smile at him the way she had those two days.

They had, of course, chatted via text and twice over the phone, but neither of them seemed to want to discuss the kiss or their relationship over the phone or text messages, and rightfully so. It was a big step for them; when it happened, it needed to be in person. She had known he was returning to the city that afternoon, so when his phone rang, he didn’t bother to look at the caller

ID, simply assuming it was her. No one else usually called him after 9 anymore.

“Did a body drop, or did you just miss me so much you couldn’t wait another day to see me?” he asked with a grin.

“Castle, I’m going to send you an address, and you need to get down here,” Lanie said simply.

“Lanie? What’s wrong?” he asked, the smile falling from his lips. Lanie never called him. Kate was the one who called him about a body drop.

“A body was found…”

He swallowed hard. “Kate? Did something happen to her?” he had to ask, interrupting before Lanie could finish her sentence. He felt his heart sink. Was Lanie calling to tell him something had happened to Kate?

Hearing the worry in his tone, Lanie realized what he must have thought. “The body we found is Mike Royce. Espo is just now calling her, so she’s not here yet, but you need to hurry. I doubt she’ll admit it, but she’s going to need you on this one.”

“I’m on my way,” he said, already out the door. He’d watched her go through hell several months ago when she’d realized Royce was part of their investigation and she’d had to arrest her former training officer. He could only imagine how his murder was going to hit her.

xxxxx

Castle’s eyes were on her the moment she got out of her unit. He could tell, just in the way she carried herself…the tension in her shoulders, the firm set of her jaw...she was torn up and doing everything she could to not appear that way.

“Where is he?” Beckett asked as she approached.

Montgomery stood beside Castle, shaking his head. “Turn around, go back home, and let me handle this.”

“Sir, I’ve seen dead bodies before,” she insisted.

The captain studied her for a moment but knew it was better for everyone if he just let her through. He nodded toward the back of the alley where Lanie was standing.

Castle was immediately at her side as she headed in that direction. “Come on, Kate…you don’t want to remember him like this,” he tried to get through to her.

“Castle, if it were me lying there, would you just walk away?” she turned to look at him.

Just the thought of that possibility sent a chill through his body and made him nauseous. He didn’t have to answer her question; the look he was giving her was answer enough–hell no, he wouldn’t just walk away. He would find whoever had hurt her, and then no one would ever find the body.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” Lanie offered her condolences.

Beckett clenched her jaw and blinked, but Castle could tell she was struggling to hold onto her composure. “Tell me what happened.”

“He was shot in the leg. Judging from the blood trail, I’d say the bullet broke the bone. He tried to hide, but…” she trailed off with a shake of her head. “I found this in his pocket,” she handed Beckett an airplane ticket stub. “He flew in from LA this afternoon.”

Castle took a step closer to Beckett then. “What was he doing in LA?” he asked curiously.

“I heard he moved there after he lost his bounty hunter’s license. I guess he was trying to make a fresh start,” Beckett answered, looking over the ticket stub.

“When was the last time you spoke with him?” he asked her softly.

She swallowed hard, staring at the ticket stub before folding it back. “When I arrested him.” She took a deep breath. “Lanie, could I?”

“Sure,” Lanie answered, stepping out of the way and exchanging a look with Castle as Beckett approached Royce’s body.

Castle watched intently as she crouched down near the body and took a few minutes. He watched as her shoulders tensed a little more. He watched as she touched Royce’s hair and either sniffled or inhaled deeply…he couldn’t tell. He was ready to move to her side the minute she stood and headed back in his direction.

“Royce had something else in his pocket. It’s addressed to you,” Lanie handed her a note.

“Is it about the case?” Castle asked her as she opened it.

After reading for a few moments, Beckett folded the note and put it in her pocket. “No.”

Esposito approached them, carrying a gun. “I think we got the murder weapon. Found it in the garbage around the corner.”

“Gun was definitely fired recently,” Ryan added as he joined them. “Shooter took the time to empty the ammo before he dumped it.”

“Worried we’d find fingerprints on the bullets?” Castle raised the question.

Beckett took the gun and examined it. “This is a cheap street gun. It’s a throw away.” She studied the gun a little more. “There’s threading on the barrel.”

“Silencer?” Castle suggested.

Esposito nodded. “Yeah.”

“Allowing our killer to shoot Royce in broad daylight,” Beckett stated, handing the gun back to Esposito to bag as evidence.

“Listen, Beckett…we’re gonna get this guy,” Ryan assured her. “We got uniforms heading to every store and apartment within a 5-block radius.”

“This is New York. Somebody had to have seen something,” Esposito added.

Castle turned to her, placing his hand on her shoulder lightly after the boys walked away. “Kate…”

“Castle, I’m fine,” she insisted.

“You’re not fine,” he said softly. “Royce was your friend. It’s okay to take a few minutes to grieve,” he added. After a minute, he let his hand fall from her shoulder. “Why don’t you let me take you home? There’s nothing else you can do tonight. You can get some sleep and start fresh on the case in the morning,” he suggested.

Beckett was about to protest when Montgomery walked over to join them. “Alright, you’ve seen him. You paid your respects. Now go home, Beckett.”

“Sir,” she started to protest.

“There’s nothing else you can do here tonight. Dr. Parish won’t have anything for you until she does an exam. Uniforms are canvassing everywhere. Ryan and Esposito will handle anything else. They’ll call you if anything pops. Go home, Beckett. That’s an order.”

She looked between her captain and her partner and finally relented, wordlessly stepping away from them to go back to her unit. Castle was quick to follow her.

“Castle, you go home too,” she told him, stopping him as he went to get into her car. “You just got back from a book tour. I know you’re tired.”

“I’m okay. I can just sit with you. You shouldn’t be alone…you don’t have to be alone,” he offered.

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” she assured him.

“Kate…”

“Rick, please,” she said. She needed to be alone. She was going to fall apart when she got home, and the last thing she wanted was for him to see her break like that.

The way she said his name, coupled with the look in her eyes had him nodding. “Okay. I’ll go home. But if you need anything…you call me. Even if all you need is me to sit on the phone with you in silence, ok?”

“Do you even know how to be silent?” she teased lightly, trying to show him that she was okay.

“I do, actually, when it matters. And I’m serious. Call me,” he insisted.

She nodded. “Okay.”

xxxxx

“Beckett, I’m not sending you to LA. You have no solid evidence linking Neal McCauley to this murder,” Montgomery insisted.

“He came to New York for 6 hours. Who flies in for that short a stay?” Castle pointed out.

“Businessmen do it all the time,” Montgomery countered.

“Businessmen don’t use fake IDs,” Castle countered back.

“Or pack silencers,” Beckett added.

Montgomery shook his head. “That’s supposition. I need a lot more than that to justify flying a detective across the country.”

Beckett shook her head as well. “You and I both know the longer I wait to go out there, the colder this trail gets.”

“Take a day to shore this up. And then if there’s sufficient evidence, I’ll contact the LAPD.”

“You’ll contact the LAPD?” Beckett asked incredulously. “This is my case! This happened in our jurisdiction. You think the LAPD is gonna lift a finger?”

“Kate, you’re too close to this!” Montgomery insisted.

“No, Sir, I am committed. I am not compromised.”

“You’re torn up,” he interrupted her. “Kate, things between you and Royce ended badly. I get it. But that emotion is exactly why I need to assign this to someone else.”

Beckett paused then, taking a step back. “You know what? You’re right. I am too close to this. I have some vacation days coming up. I think now would be a good time,” she stated, turning to head out of the office.

“Kate,” he called, stopping her. “I hope you’re not thinking about doing something reckless.”

She turned to face him, meeting his eyes for a long moment. “No, Sir,” she stated, leaving the office.

Castle’s eyes met Montgomery’s and both men seemed to understand each other. Montgomery’s look told Castle to follow her…something he would have done anyway…because neither man believed she was stepping back and doing nothing.

“Where are you going?” Castle called after her.

“Home,” she insisted.

“The hell you are. I know you better than that,” he tried to stop her with a hand on her arm.

“Castle, please,” she pulled it away. “He was my training officer…my friend. I just…I really need to be alone right now,” she told him, making her way to the elevator.

Castle watched helplessly as the doors closed. Why did it always feel like they’d take one step forward and then something happened to make them take two steps back? He was really beginning to hate that dance.

“You know she’s going to LA,” Espo said, coming up behind him.

“I know,” Castle sighed.

“You really think she’s going to just willingly let you go with her?” Ryan asked as he joined them.

“She won’t have much of a choice if she doesn’t find out until the plane is already in the air,” Castle stated simply, already pulling out his phone to check for the next flight to LA, knowing she’d be on it. “Whether she likes it or not, someone’s got to have her back…and I’m her partner.” He headed for the elevator himself; he had a couple of hours to pack a bag and get to the airport, already calling to arrange a hotel suite for them.

xxxxx

Kate Beckett hated the middle seats in airplanes. Unfortunately, that was all that was available to her last minute. She knew she was lucky to have gotten on the flight at all considering she’d been on standby status. Still, being squished between two larger men was going to make for a very uncomfortable flight across the country…especially if the baby screaming in the cabin didn’t eventually tire itself out and fall asleep.

“Excuse me, Detective Beckett?” one of the flight attendants approached her.

“Yes?” she answered.

“You’ve been upgraded to first class.”

Beckett didn’t even question the reason. “Thank you,” she smiled, standing quickly. “I’m sorry…excuse me,” she said to the man, climbing over him to get out of the cramped row. She followed the flight attendant to the first-class cabin.

“Seat 3C,” the attendant told her.

“Thank you,” she smiled her relief. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the man she’d be sitting next to.

“Champagne?” he asked innocently with a smile.

She took the seat beside him, fastening her seatbelt. “Castle, what are you doing?”

He shrugged with a grin. “The studio’s been after me for weeks to fly down and do a set visit for the Heat Wave movie. Imagine my surprise when I saw your name on the standby list,” he took a sip of the champagne.

“You cannot be a part of what I’m gonna do out there,” she told him simply.

“I thought you were on vacation,” he pointed out.

“Castle,” she shook her head. “Look, it’s one thing for you to follow me when we’re in New York, but I’m not a cop in LA. I don’t have any authority or backup,” she told him.

“I’ll be your backup,” he insisted. Seeing her roll her eyes, he continued. “I’m your partner. Besides, going rogue is kind of my specialty.”

“Yeah, but subtlety isn’t,” she countered with a small smile. “I’m not going to get rid of you am I?” she asked him. Seeing him shake his head, she sighed. “Okay, if we do this together you have to promise me that we’re gonna fly under the radar.”

“Of course,” he smiled, offering her the extra glass of champagne.

She studied him for a moment before taking it with another roll of her eyes. She took a sip, offering him a small smile. “Thank you for upgrading me. I was kind of miserable back there.”

“You mean, you didn’t enjoy your seat sandwiched between two of the linemen for the Giants?” he asked with a chuckle.

“No,” she smirked. “The screaming baby didn’t help either.”

He laughed softly. “You’re welcome. Besides, how are we supposed to talk strategy with you in the back of the plane and me in the front?”

“We weren’t supposed to talk strategy at all,” she laughed, nudging his shoulder playfully.

“We have a 6-hour flight, Beckett. It’s going to be a long 6 hours if we don’t talk.”

She smiled and took another sip of her champagne. “Some people sleep on a flight.”

“Are you one of those people?” he asked with a smile.

She shrugged. “Sometimes. Probably not this flight. I’ve got too much on my mind.”

He nodded, placing a hand over hers. “I’m here for whatever you want to talk about,” he offered her a smile. “Or we could just drink,” he joked.

“I think one glass will suffice,” she chuckled, stretching her legs out.

He smiled and squeezed her hand before releasing it. The surprise was evident on his face when she took his hand back in hers a moment later.

“Thanks for coming with me, Castle,” she said softly, offering him a smile and pulling their joined

hands back into her lap.

“Always,” he smiled, stretching his legs out to get comfortable as well.

xxxxx

“Is this what you call under the radar?” Beckett asked, gesturing to the red Ferrari they were currently in.

“In LA, this baby fits right in,” Castle insisted. “So what’s our first stop?”

“My hotel. It’s on Ventura Blvd.”

Castle shot her a look. “That’s all the way in the Valley. How are we supposed to work together if you’re an hour away?”

“Castle, we weren’t supposed to work together at all,” she reminded him.

He shrugged. “Okay, well the studio comped me a two-bedroom suite at a 4-star hotel. You just stay with me,” he stated as though it were a no-brainer.

She snorted a laugh. “Yeah right!”

“What?” he asked, turning to look at her. “You’ll have your own room.”

“No! I am not staying with you!” she insisted, biting back another laugh.

He raised an eyebrow, almost in a challenge. “Worried you can’t control yourself when we’re alone together?”

Her smile faltered only slightly. It was a legitimate concern of hers, yes, considering the current state of their relationship and how close they currently were to crossing the line between friends and lovers…but she wasn’t going to admit that to him. “Actually, it’s not me that I’m worried about,” she replied.

“I assure you, Detective, my intentions are pure,” he insisted as the light they were stopped at turned green. He paused a moment before continuing. “Need I remind you that the last two times we were alone together, you were the one who kissed me,” he commented nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road.

She tugged her lower lip between her teeth. She couldn’t even deny that. Even though it had been months ago and she hadn’t ended her relationship with Josh at the time, she’d still been the one to kiss him on Valentine’s Day over wine in his loft. And now that they were both single,

she hadn’t been able to resist kissing him when they’d gone out 3 weeks ago after he’d been so jealous of Alex Conrad.

Yes, they were here to work…at least she was…but she also couldn’t deny the attraction and connection that pulled them together, couldn’t deny that they were one “Yes” from her away from becoming romantic partners in addition to professional ones. Here to work or not, she knew it was a very real possibility that when they were alone together she would give into the temptation that was her desire to be with him. Simply having her own bedroom didn’t guarantee she wouldn’t seek him out in the middle of the night without anything holding her back anymore.

“Fine, I’ll stay with you,” she finally agreed. She knew herself well enough to know there was a very real possibility she would find herself in his bed…or invite him into hers…before they left LA. She only hoped she was ready for everything that entailed. Because once they crossed that last line between them, she knew there would be no going back. If she messed it all up, if they crashed and burned, she would lose him forever…and she wasn’t sure that was a loss from which she’d recover.

xxxxx

“We’re so happy to have you back, Mr. Castle,” Maurice the concierge smiled. “I’ve taken the liberty of setting up the suite just the way you like it.”

“Thank you,” Castle returned the man’s smile.

“And I’ve scheduled a couple’s massage at 7,” Maurice added.

Beckett paused looking around the suite for a moment to cut Castle a look. “Pure, huh?”

Castle’s eyes widened slightly. “Uh, Maurice, you can cancel the couple’s massage. We’re actually here to work, so we won’t be needing that tonight.” He didn’t ask for the champagne or flowers to be removed, however.

Maurice nodded. “Very good, Sir.”

Castle handed the bellhop who handled their luggage a tip and offered Maurice one as well. “Thank you, Maurice.” He followed the men out and closed the double doors behind them. “The last time I was here, I brought this Parisian supermodel, so he…” he trailed off when he caught the look Beckett shot him and he realized bringing up the fact that he’d been with other women here was probably not the best idea considering they were working toward a relationship with each other. “You know, that is not important. Would you like to choose your bedroom?”

She rolled her eyes and went to her carry-on to get her jacket. “No, I would like to start the investigation.”

“But we haven’t even ordered room service yet,” Castle pointed out.

“Castle, I’m not here for room service, I’m here for justice,” she stated, heading for the doors.

“Can’t we have both?” Castle called as he followed her. “Wow. In LA for all of a minute and already she’s spouting cheesy movie dialogue. Must be something in the air.”

xxxxx

“Picture this: a gullible young actress, desperate to make a name for herself. She meets our mastermind at a club. He needs a pretty girl to help him get the voice code. He tells Violet he’s a producer, promises to make her famous if she helps him play a practical joke on a friend,” Castle theorizes. He turns to face Beckett on the couch in the living room area of their suite.

Beckett turns a little more facing him, her elbow resting on the back of the couch with her head resting on her hand. The bottle of champagne from earlier is opened and mostly empty on the coffee table in front of them. “She doesn’t even realize that she’s participating in a crime until afterwards. She can’t call the cops, so she contacts Royce.”

“But then, our Mr. McCauley finds out,” Castle continues to build theory with her.

“And Royce tries to change the game. He goes to New York; home-field advantage. Classic. Classic Royce,” Beckett smiled slightly. “I was so in awe of him, Castle when I first met him. I just hung on his every word. And then later, I realized he was just making up stories to mess with me,” she gave a soft laugh, but her smile faded. “I can’t believe that I’m never gonna see him again.”

He studied her for a moment, shifting just a little closer. “You know what I first thought when I met you?” he asked her.

She turned her attention back to him. “Mm?” she hummed the question.

“That you were a mystery I was never gonna solve. Even now, after spending all this time with you, I’m still amazed at the depths of your strength…your heart…” he trailed off as the faintest smile teased his lips, “and your hotness.”

She looked down for a moment and then met his smile with one of her own. “You’re not so bad yourself, Castle.”

Their eyes locked and they held each other’s gaze. He wanted to kiss her…so badly. Under any other circumstance, he would have. But she was vulnerable now. She was dealing with her grief over the loss of her friend whom he knew she cared for deeply. He wouldn’t be the guy who took

advantage of that. He cared too much about her to be the guy who did that to her. If there was a move to be made, she was going to have to be the one to initiate it.

“I should go. It’s late,” Beckett stood, finally breaking the moment between them as she headed for her bedroom door.

“Kate…”

“Goodnight, Castle,” she stated, stepping inside and closing the door. She leaned against it, running her hands over her face and through her hair. A hundred thoughts were running through her mind: She should have kissed him. Why was she running? How badly she wanted to kiss him. How badly she wanted to lose herself in his arms tonight, let him make her forget everything else but him and the way she knew he would make her feel. But was that fair to him to do it this way? Was it fair to either of them to spend their first night together under these circumstances? Was she ready to fully embrace the depth of her feelings for him? Was she ready to embrace the depth of his feelings for her?

Her hand lingered over the door handle for another moment as she hesitated. The words from Royce’s letter echoed in her mind: And now for the hard part, kid. It’s clear that you and Castle have something real. And you’re fighting it. But trust me, putting the job ahead of your heart is a mistake. Risking our hearts is why we’re alive. The last thing you want is to look back on your life and wonder, if only. A moment later, she’d made her decision. She wanted the comfort he would provide. She wanted to touch him, to taste him, to feel him. She just wanted him. She opened the door and met his eyes as he stood from the couch. “Castle…” she breathed from her doorway.

He wordlessly approached her, coming to stand in front of her in her doorway. In her bare feet, she was a good 5 or 6 inches shorter than him, and his eyes were soft as he looked at her. “Kate…” he murmured, unable to resist reaching out to run his fingers gently across her cheek.

Her hands moved to his chest and her eyes closed as she leaned into his touch. Her fingers tightened in his shirt and she pulled him closer against her, opening her eyes to look at his lips.

He leaned down, his lips stopping just before they touched hers. Swallowing hard, he had to make sure. “Kate, I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he murmured in a whisper.

Her nose nuzzled his, her lips moving the tiniest bit closer until they were only a hair’s width apart and she could feel his breath tickling her lips. “You’re not…” she breathed, her lips barely brushing his as she spoke. “If we hadn’t been so busy the past few weeks, this would have already happened…”

He swallowed hard again. She was making it so damn hard to think straight, to try to be the

gentleman. “I thought you wanted to wait…”

The last words from Royce played over again in her head. The last thing you want is to look back on your life and wonder, if only. “I’m done waiting,” she told him.

“You won’t regret this in the morning?” he had to ask her. Because he wouldn’t be able to handle it if she did.

“No regrets,” she promised, unable to take it anymore and closing the almost invisible distance between their lips with a slow kiss. She stepped back from him into her room a few moments later, her lower lip tugged between her teeth and the look in her eyes inviting, imploring him to follow her.

He was powerless to resist her now, and he knew it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Opening them a second later, he followed her into her bedroom and closed the door behind him.

xxxxx

IT’S ABOUT TO GET STEAMY

SKIP THIS PART IF YOU DON’T WANT TO READ SEXY TIMES

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Her eyes never left his as he approached her. She took the final step toward him necessary to close the distance between them again and took his face in her hands. This time when she kissed him, the dam broke; her feelings for him, their physical attraction to each other, the past two+ years…everything poured into her kiss. She was drowning in his kiss, in him, and for once she didn’t care.

Her tongue ravaged his mouth, and he let her take what she needed, what she wanted from him while his hands gripped her hips and pulled her closer. One hand slowly ran up her back and curled into her hair, deepening the kiss until both needed some oxygen. His mouth ran along her jaw to her neck and finally along her throat, grazing her skin lightly with his teeth as he tasted her.

Her hands moved to his plaid button-up shirt and shoved it over his shoulders, causing him to release his hold on her long enough to yank his arms free from it. She grabbed his t-shirt and tugged it over his head as well, her eyes and fingers traveling the lines of muscle across and down his now bare chest appreciatively. Her lips grazed against the hollow of his neck where it met his chest, her tongue darting out to taste his skin. Her arms moved around him, her fingers sliding up the muscles of his back as she pressed an open-mouth kiss to his chest, smiling against his skin at the low groan that escaped his throat.

When he felt her fingers at his belt before he’d even had the chance to get her shirt off her, he

caught her wrists and brought them to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Not so fast,” he murmured with a smile. He caught her playful look and returned it with one of his own before grabbing the hem of her shirt and bringing it up and over her head. His eyes darkened at the exposed skin, the black lace of her bra a stark contrast against her tanned skin. His fingers gently traced along the length of her bra strap at her shoulder as he circled behind her.

The feel of his lips on her shoulder and then her neck as he pushed her hair aside drew a gasp from her lips. His mouth lightly danced along the curve of her neck as his fingers unclasped her bra. She leaned back against him as his hands slowly slid the straps down her arms until the piece fell from her body to the floor. Her head fell back against his shoulder and her eyes closed as his lips slid to her shoulder, one hand flattening against her stomach to hold her against him, the other moving to her breast, eliciting a soft moan from her lips.

He bit her shoulder gently as he squeezed her breast. One of her hands moved to cover his on her breast, and her other moved to his head, pulling him into a smoldering kiss. As she tugged his lip between her teeth and bit gently, the hand on her stomach slid lower, dipping inside her pants, his fingers lightly tracing along her underwear. She moaned her approval into his mouth and released her grip on his hand to guide the hand in her pants lower until she could press his fingers into the heat between her legs.

Even through her panties, he could feel her arousal, causing him to groan against her lips. “Kate…” he breathed, his mouth moving to her neck as his fingers slipped past the barrier of her underwear to slide between her legs. The feel of his touch where she was already so ready for him caused her hips to buck against his hand and nearly sent her spiraling. The hand still joined with his on her breast flexed and squeezed, while her hand that had guided his into her pants gripped his hip, her fingers curling in his belt loops.

He continued to work her up with his fingers at her core, his lips gently sucking and nipping at her skin, and his other hand on her breast, alternating between massaging and rolling her nipple between his fingers. It wasn’t long before he had her a whimpering mess, his name escaping her lips in a breathless moan as she crashed over the edge. His fingers continued to work her through her orgasm until she couldn’t take it anymore and gripped his forearm, tugging his hand away. He smirked against her skin, moving his hand to her stomach to hold her against him as she recovered, his lips softly caressing her skin.

Once she regained her senses, she turned in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and meeting his smile with one of her own. “Hi,” she murmured, kissing him slowly.

“Hi,” he returned, resting his forehead against hers. He slowly walked her back toward the bed, easing her back and lowering her down on it when her legs hit the edge. He moved over her, capturing her mouth with his in a passionate kiss, his tongue slowly stroking hers. This time when he felt her fingers slide down his chest to his belt, he didn’t stop her.

She easily unfastened his belt and the button on his pants, and then slowly slid the zipper down. Her fingers teased just underneath the waistband of his boxers before her hands moved to his hips. She pushed both his jeans and boxers over his hips, her hands sliding around to grab his ass, squeezing the ample flesh as she pulled him into the cradle of her thighs. “Get them off…” she murmured, her lips brushing against his jaw as she pushed them as far down as she could.

He did as he was told, standing and removing his last remaining clothing. She pushed up to her elbows to watch, her eyes darkening as she took in the sight of him for the first time. She sat up, her hands moving to his hips as she pulled him to stand in front of her.

“Kate…you don’t have to…” he started.

“I know,” she met his eyes with a smile. She knew he would never expect or even ask her to do what she was about to do. But she wanted him, wanted all of him; she had for awhile. “I want to taste you.”

Her lips pressed a soft kiss to his stomach, glancing up at him as one hand moved to his length, her slender fingers stroking him slowly. She smirked against his skin at the low groan and moved her mouth to his hip, nipping playfully before blazing a trail of open mouth kisses across his skin as she worked her mouth further down. She looked up at him watching her and saw his eyes close as she ran her tongue the length of him before taking him in her mouth and sucking gently.

It took all of his willpower not to buck his hips into her mouth, but he somehow managed. He forced himself to keep his eyes open, watching her, one hand tangling in her hair…not to guide her movement, but to simply caress her. After a few moments, he hand to stop her. “Kate…” he managed to choke out her name on a strangled moan, his hand gently caressing her cheek. “I can’t…you’ve got to stop…or it’s going to be over to soon…” he managed to get out, trying to force his breathing to return to normal.

She raised an eyebrow, slightly amused as she leaned back on her elbows. He moved with her, leaning down to kiss her again, moaning against her lips as her tongue sensually tangoed with his. His hands gripped her leggings and pulled them down her legs slowly, standing to toss them aside as she shifted to push herself up on the bed, resting her head on the pillows.

He crawled up the bed to her with a grin, dropping soft kisses to the inside of her knee and trailing his tongue along the skin of her thigh. When he reached her underwear, he paused and looked up at her. “You’re sure?” he asked her again.

She pushed up on her elbows so she could gently caress his face. “Make love to me, Rick…” she told him softly, pulling him to her for a slow, deep kiss as she slid her body against his.

He groaned, wrapping her in his arms as he deepened the kiss. When he finally broke away, he pushed up to his knees and hooked his fingers in her panties, drawing them down her legs slowly before dropping them to the floor to the side of the bed. He swallowed hard as his eyes traveled over her body slowly. “You’re beautiful, Kate…” he murmured in awe. His hand slowly, lightly ran up her thigh as he settled between her legs.

He trailed kisses across her stomach before getting sidetracked by the tattoo on her hip, which she’d fully expected, tracing the outline with his tongue. His mouth continued it’s path, until his tongue dipped inside her, finally tasting her, and he knew at that moment he was addicted. Each touch of his fingers to her skin, each press of his lips, each stroke of his tongue was reverent, as though her body was a temple at which he was worshiping. He took his time as he worked her up, enjoying the taste of her, enjoying the soft moans and whimpers of pleasure as he explored her body, learning the way she liked to be touched so intimately.

It wasn’t long before she was moaning his name as she came, her fingers clenching in the comforter on the bed. He gently but firmly held her hips in place as mouth continued to work her through her orgasm, and then suck on her bundle of nerves until she quickly came undone again, his name falling from her lips in a strangled scream. Only when her fingers curled in his hair and pulled him away slightly did he move his mouth to her hip, biting enough to leave a mark and soothing it with his tongue.

His kisses were slow and gentle as they moved back up her body, giving her time to recover. It wasn’t until he was settled in the cradle of her thighs with her hips rocking against his as they kissed passionately that he realized–he didn’t have protection on him. “Kate…” he pulled away breathlessly. “I didn’t bring…I mean, I didn’t expect that we would…I don’t have condoms…”

“Neither do I…You don’t carry one in your wallet?”

“Not if I don’t think I’m going to need it…which I didn’t…because we weren’t together…and I did not come out here with the intention of sleeping with you…” he murmured, moving to shift off her.

She gently stopped him, her fingertips lightly caressing his jaw. “Castle, it’s okay,” she assured him softly, pressing a kiss to his chin. “I’m clean. And I’m on birth control. So I’m good without one if you are.” He was the only man she would ever consider doing this with, and only because she trusted him implicitly. She'd never even had unprotected sex with Josh. There was no one she trusted the way she trusted Castle.

He stared at her for a moment, because he knew the level of trust that she was putting in him with that statement, with that action. “I’m clean…” he promised. “You’re…you’re really sure about this, Kate? Because I can’t promise you I’ll be able to pull out before I…”

She interrupted him with a kiss. “I’m sure. I trust you completely, Rick…”

This time it was him who cut off her words with a deep kiss. I love you, was right on the tip of his tongue to say, but he didn’t dare say it now. He’d told her before…on more than one occasion, admittedly not always at the best moment. The last thing he wanted was to send her running now if she wasn’t ready to hear those words from him again. Instead, he’d show her.

One of his hands found hers and he laced their fingers, pushing their joined hands above her head. His other hand lightly caressed her thigh and shifted, meeting her eyes as he slowly slid inside her. She gasped softly, and his forehead rested against hers as they both took a moment to savor the connection.

Her hand squeezed his and her free hand caressed his cheek as her lips met his again in a tender kiss. One of her legs hooked over his hip, pulling him in closer, and a soft moan escaped her throat. Another moan escaped, this time from each of them, as she rocked her hips against his to get him to move.

They exchanged breathless kisses, gentle caresses, soft moans as their bodies moved together almost seamlessly, meeting each other perfectly, each knowing what the other needed or wanted as though they were in a well-choreographed dance and not coming together for the first time.

As he felt his climax approaching, he released her hand and shifted so that he had a deeper angle. “Kate…I’m close…” he warned dropping his mouth to her neck.

Her lips moved to his ear as her hands slid down his back, her nails raking across his skin. “Let go with me…inside me…” she panted breathlessly, tugging on his ear with her teeth as her legs pulled him in closer to reinforce her words.

Her breathless moans and the way she moved her body with his, the way her legs tightened around his waist, was enough to push him over the edge and pull her with him. He thrust a few more times until he was completely spent, and dropped down, rolling them so she was on top of him.

xxxxx

SEXY TIMES IS OVER

IT IS SAFE TO READ AGAIN

EVERYTHING BELOW IS RATED T

They stayed wrapped in each other's arms silently, both catching their breath. He caught her hand drawing patterns on his chest after a few minutes and brought it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

“You were right…I had no idea,” he admitted with a grin.

She laughed softly and pushed herself up on his chest to look at him. “You still don’t,” she grinned. Seeing his look, she kissed him as she laughed again. “That was just a preview,” she murmured against his lips before pushing herself up off the bed. “Be right back,” she promised, pressing one last kiss to his lips before disappearing into the bathroom.

When she returned, he’d gotten under the covers and made no attempt to hide his enjoyment in the fact that she hadn’t bothered to put any of her clothes…or his…back on to cover up. She met his gaze with an amused arch of her eyebrow, turning the lights off on her way back to bed. “Staring is still creepy, bud.”

He chuckled as she slipped back into bed beside him. “Can’t help it,” he shrugged, turning on his side to look at her. “I told you before…I’m still amazed at your hotness.” He couldn’t help but reach out and let his fingers trace along her curves.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she echoed her own words from earlier, sliding closer to kiss him. She grinned against his lips as he deepened the kiss and threw her leg over his hips, quickly straddling him, running her hands over his chest as she stared down at him. “You wanna find out what you really had no idea about?” she asked in a husky tone, already sliding her body sinfully against his as she bit her lower lip.

He swallowed hard, his hands moving to her thighs. “Yes, please,” he managed to choke out. The way she was moving her body against his was similar to every fantasy and wet dream he’d had about her since that undercover date in the club back in February. Only now it was real…she was really here, it was really her body moving against his, and it was better than any fantasy.

She leaned down to kiss him with a wicked grin. “Your safe word still apples?” she purred against his lips.

All he could do was nod.

xxxxx

Okay, I am aware this is only the first half of the LA episode. I went a little crazy here…I told you guys it was a favorite of mine! And I am sorry, but you will have to wait until I return from vacation to get the chapter dealing with the second half of the episode. But I did make this a long one to tide you over in the meantime!

I really hope you enjoyed this one! And I look forward to reading all your comments for those who leave them!

[love-kurdt]

Now That We Don't Talk (byler): 1

word count: 13,034

warnings for this chapter: mild sexual content, a few homophobic slurs. this is semi-autobiographical so pls be kind <3

in short, if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, pls dni.

When I first moved to California, it had taken me two whole months to fully unpack my boxes. And it wasn’t really a mystery as to why; I had no desire to be there. Yes, I’ll admit that I wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of Hawkins, either, considering the events of the past few years, but when it all came down to the nitty-gritty, Hawkins was the lesser of two evils. Because Hawkins had Mike, and Lenora was… well, Mike-less. I’d never really thought about my life without Mike in it up until then, because I didn’t think I’d ever have to. But then I did have to. And it was an awful feeling.

We’d driven away from the old house, and I watched as Mike became smaller and smaller, until he was merely a stick figure in the passenger side mirror. I’d blinked my tears away and turned my gaze to the road ahead, trying to focus on the lyrics of whatever song by the Smiths that Jon was playing, but it was impossible to take my mind off of my new reality. As cliché as this sounds, I felt a piece of my heart break that day. And from the look on Mike’s face as he stood idly by, bike leaning against his hip, he was hurting just as much as I was. He’d looked lost, confused, and hurt. I could totally relate.

When we’d arrived in our new house, I’d had mixed feelings about it at first, because that’s what usually happens when you arrive in an unfamiliar environment, but then those feelings pretty much dissipated within a day. The house was bigger, for one, which was nice in a way. It had two floors, and had enough rooms in it so that El, Jon, and I didn’t have to bunk up like we’d been doing up until the move. It was in a bigger town than Hawkins was, so not everybody knew each other’s business. Which was great, considering that the Zombie Boy name hadn’t been able to tag along for the ride.

It was a lot warmer than it had been in Hawkins, and I’d grown to hate the cold over the past few years, so that was a welcome change. It was a welcome change for everyone, I think. We’d taken time during our first week in our new home to just sit together on the deck, basking in the sunshine. We learned quickly that sunscreen was a must in California, even when it wasn’t scorching hot. I’d burnt my nose on more than one occasion, and El proceeded to call me Rudolph at every possible opportunity.

El’s addition to the family was another perk of moving. El and Mom had been able to bond really well, albeit over the loss of Hopper, but also because Mom finally had a daughter. El and Jon got along well, too, which was nice. And I was cool with her. She never did anything wrong to me… besides dating Mike, of course, but that was completely out of my control. Plus, it wasn’t like he’d ever want to be with me in that way. He’d set that in stone over that one summer when he told me, “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

Not even half an hour after our fight in the rain, Mike and Lucas had biked over to my house to apologize. Of course, my demolition of Castle Byers and the return of the Mind Flayer had me kind of preoccupied at that point, so nothing officially happened to resolve that situation. It was the Subject Change of the Century; we got so wrapped up in the Upside Down stuff that Mike and I put it off, then put it off some more, and then swept it under the rug altogether.

Nothing was the same after that night… at least, not on my end. What Mike said to me kind of changed my life. I’d become so dependent upon his overwhelming presence near me all the time that I kind of lost sight of myself and my own identity. In my mind, I wasn’t Will; I was Mike’s-Friend-Will. I felt worthless without him, and was always so quick to forgive him out of fear of losing him that I’d inadvertently become Passive with a capital P. And I didn’t want to be that way anymore. So I created a strictly platonic boundary between us, one that allowed the tension to dissolve, and to give myself space to grieve the idea of Mike I’d created; the one who loved me back. And then… we were back to best friends again. Just in time for me to move. At least Mike and I would still be able to talk over the phone.

I could not have been more wrong. Mike did not make a single call for the entire seven months that we were in Lenora. He didn’t send a single letter, either. Well, at least not to me. El was in correspondence with him literally every week, practically skipping into the house after trips to the mailbox with letters upon letters in her hands, beaming with excitement. I hate to admit it, but it got really annoying after a while. Then, she’d started building a shoebox shrine to him, and I was just like, what’s so special about him? He’s just Mike. But then I realized that if I were in her shoes, I’d be doing the exact same thing. Because he was Just Mike, and that was why I loved him.

After watching this go on for a few months, I kind of fell into a depression, and El was too busy swooning over all the “From, Mike”s to notice that I was falling apart. I had resigned from the idea of reaching out to Mike, because he hadn’t made any kind of effort to reach out to me. That was when I decided to finally start unpacking my boxes. Unpacking meant that the move became real. Unpacking meant that it was permanent. Unpacking meant that I’d have to officially start my new life, at a new school— high school— without Mike in it.

Each box represented a call and letter El received. My clothes were put on hangers in the closet, and my art supplies finally found a place next to my bedroom window. And all of Mike’s writing was shoved away into the darkest depths of my lowest desk drawer, never to see the light of day again. Yeah, I was being petty, but I was angry. I deserved to be angry, damnit. I was angry at Mike for abandoning me, and I was angry at myself for being delusional enough to believe Mike cared that much about our friendship.

But then, I started the painting. The Painting. I’d sworn to myself that I would stop making art that revolved around Mike. He would no longer be my muse. I’d started off the piece as a typical landscape, but I added the Thessalhydra, and then I added myself, Lucas, Dustin, and… Mike, at the front, leading the Party to victory. Screw it, I had thought to myself, everyone else is in the painting, it’d be weird not to include Mike. When I painted the red heart on his shield as a finishing touch, it hit me like a truck that I’d created one of my best paintings to date with Mike in my subconscious thoughts the whole time. He was inescapable. There was no use in ripping myself up over what I couldn’t control, so I figured I’d just give him the painting during Spring Break.

Spring Break happened, and boy (man, really; the boyish look had almost completely faded away), Mike had changed, in more ways than one. He’d shown up the airport gate nearly half a foot taller, with sharper cheekbones, longer hair, and a deeper voice, wearing the dumbest looking outfit I’d ever seen. I was so happy to see him. He hadn’t been as excited as I was, considering the timid clap on the shoulder I’d been given while I’d gone in expecting one of his amazing, tight hugs. He’d always given the best hugs. Not anymore, I’d supposed. So I tucked my rolled up painting back under my arm and took a step back, letting El and Mike have their time together as a couple. I admired him from afar, but that was all I ever did.

Mike had changed, in more ways than one; he’d gotten so much more attractive… but he’d also turned into a total asshole. I finally confronted him about his standoffish behavior at Rink-o-Mania, and he’d placed all the blame on me, not once taking responsibility for essentially forgetting that I existed, and on my birthday, no less. When I asked why El got so many letters while I got absolutely nothing, he replied that it was because she was his girlfriend. Which, yeah, obviously. But when I followed up with, “...And us?” Mike had snapped, “We’re friends. We’re. Friends.” As the two of us laid in my bed that night, it set in that Mike had taken my question in a romantic context. That made my heart flutter a little bit, but I shut myself down immediately, because I was not going down that road again.

My mood hadn’t shifted much when we’d initially arrived back in Hawkins, following the worst road trip I had ever had the displeasure of going on. I’d been trapped in a weed-infused van, sitting inches away from a wordless Mike. I’d given the painting to Mike and lied about its origins just to boost his ego. And worst of all, I endured an Emotional Michael Monologue in which he told El that he loved her multiple times. When we got out of the van, I had taken the biggest sigh of relief, because thank God the suffering was over. Oh wait, no, scratch that, because the suffering had only just begun; Vecna was the “Him,” I’d been feeling all those years, and “He,” was destroying Hawkins as we spoke.

About a month into the Vecnapocalypse (Dustin had been the one to coin that term, and I’d doubled over laughing during a very important group meeting when he’d first used it), Mike had told me that he’d finally broken up with El. I was secretly elated; the mope-fest was finally over. But when Mike revealed the reason why they’d broken up, which was the very painting that I had used as a device to try and clear the air between Mike and my sister, my back-breaking efforts seemed to be all for nothing. We had a little argument-turned-heart-to-heart about it, but we hugged it out in the end like best friends do. And things were fine. We were a team again, and that’s what mattered most.

The dynamic between Mike and I changed, though, throughout the course of the Vecnapocalypse. And I wasn’t complaining. We’d gone from being virtually radio silent to… whatever the situation was. We’d flirt, hold hands, listen to each other’s mixtapes, and partnered up together during missions. This continued on for a while until one particular moment in the Upside Down, when Mike had leaned in a bit too close, almost as if we were about to… no way. I was beyond tempted to lean in as well, caving into the deepest desire I’d ever had in my life: kissing Michael James Wheeler square on the mouth. And I almost did. However, in typical Mike fashion, ever the dramatic, he’d jumped backwards, stumbled outside, tripped over a gigantic vine, and triggered a bunch of Demobats to swarm the Upside Down version of the Wheeler house. After that shit show, I couldn’t help but be a little bit bitter towards Mike. That side-battle could have cost us everything. Vecna could have won. And on top of all that, I was tired of being led on by Mike and all of his contradictions, so I kept Mike at a physical distance from there on out. We never brought up the Almost-Kiss ever again.

Things got even stranger a few years later. On one particularly gross day in August of 1989, I’d dropped by the Wheelers’ to ask Mike if he wanted to watch a movie later that night. I headed up to his room, and the door was slightly ajar, so I lightly knocked. No response. He probably had his headphones on or something. I walked in, but he was nowhere to be seen. His notebook was lying open on his desk beside a pile of multiple ripped-out pages, with one of his signature blue LePens sitting on top of the page, the cap cast to the side. Mike had a bad habit of accidentally letting his overly-expensive pens dry out, so I figured I’d do him a favor and put it back on and save him the trouble. I took a few steps over to his desk and reached for the pen, but immediately paused in my tracks when I noticed the first two words he’d written on top of the page.

Dear Will,

I shouldn’t have read any further, because I wasn’t sure if it was Mike’s intention for me to even see it, but it was too late to go back. My eyes involuntarily scanned the page, widening more and more with every sentence.

Dear Will, When I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my life. Poetic, I know. It kind of came out of nowhere. You know I’m not much of a poetry kind of guy, I’m more of a storyteller, but the thought came to me in a dream I had about you, and I just had to write it down in one of these letters.

Hold up, I thought. What the hell? He… had a dream about me? Why would he have a dream about… Why me? What letters? What was he talking ab— My eyes hesitantly drifted to the pile of papers beside the notebook. I gulped, my suspicions confirmed.

You’re asleep in my bed, and I’m hunched over my desk, writing this letter because I am freaking the fuck out. And not because I almost ruined our chance to defeat Vecna. Well, that too, sorry about that. But the primary reason for my current freak out session is because we almost kissed. And that’s weird.

I flipped to the next one.

Something is wrong with me. I swear to God, I didn’t mean for this to happen. But I keep staring at you for longer than I should. And I can’t look away. I haven’t been able to since the Almost Kiss™. You’ve caught me looking these past few times and I feel myself burning up like a match every time. And I’ve come to the conclusion that you, Will Byers, are my flame.

And the next one.

I’ve kind of gotten used to sleeping in the same bed as you, subconsciously cuddling through the night, and waking up tangled together. Your face is so relaxed right now, and you hum contentedly to yourself every few minutes. It’s so fucking cute. I’m glad you’re not having as many nightmares anymore. Or, at least you’re having slightly better dreams. I should go to bed soon. I don’t want you to catch me writing. But yeah. You’re adorable. And I really like you.

And the next one.

I was so caught off guard by the fact that you called me cute that I couldn’t get any words out. You turned around quickly to get your bike and hopped on, giving me a small wave as you left my driveway. And it hit me then: I love you. I am in love with you. Unabashedly, wholeheartedly, head over my fucking heels in love with you. And believe me, this has been a long time coming, and not just because you complimented me. I think I’ve loved you for a long time. I just didn’t know what it was.

And the next one.

Why does loving you feel so wrong, yet so right? It seems like for every thought I have about you, another comes to bite me in the ass. I wish I could just think about you in peace without all of the shame. But at the same time, I know it isn’t normal for me to like you, to love you, to want you. I’m usually able to stop my mind from wandering into that territory, but there’s something about you that is making it more and more difficult for me to resist those thoughts from entering my head. I think the main culprit is your shoulders. Yes, I said it. I am attracted to your shoulders. Specifically when you wear your polo shirts that are a size or two too small and hug your upper body a little too tightly. Or when you steal my leather jacket and shove it on, and it accentuates your arms, rather than making them disappear like it does to mine. You’re so attractive, it’s actually crazy. I think my brain needs to catch up to my heart. Because my heart is thriving, but my brain is a killjoy.

Another.

I turned to my dad with a wild look in my eyes (probably), and said some shit like, “Yeah, me and my boyfriend, Will Byers, had such a great time last night! We stared longingly into each others’ eyes for hours, then we cuddled, then we kissed, and then we got each other off! It was so hot, Dad. Truly. I wish you could’ve seen–” … I know what I said was a lot. I mean, it was pretty vulgar. Plus, it's never actually happened, and it never will happen. So I'm sorry about that.

Another.

I found this set of dice, though, and they were just… so you. They were a deep, translucent purple with gold stars painted around each number, all of which were also gold. They reminded me of your Will the Wise costume. I know you haven’t worn it in a long time, and that’s probably my fault. I think the last time you wore it was the day we had that fight in the garage, when I told you it wasn’t my fault you didn’t like girls. And the sick, twisted irony of that is, in reality, I’m the one out of the both of us who doesn’t like girls.

Another. Another. Another.

I think about you and those fucking gorgeous lips almost every waking moment. And the urge to follow through with my desire to kiss you always gets stronger whenever you’re in the room. Which is unfortunate, since you’re always in the room now— specifically my room, because it’s summer, so of course we’re hanging out every day. We made that stupid promise to dedicate one-on-one time to just the two of us. If only “one-on-one” was synonymous with “you-on-me.” Or “me-on-you”…? Either would work for me, honestly. But there’s something about the thought of you straddling me and leaning your entire body weight onto me that makes me weak in the knees. I’m kind of glad your mom wanted you home tonight, because there’s only so long I can refrain from lunging into your space and holding your face in between my hands and

But then, your very short swim trunks clung to your thighs, and eventually, I was able to see the full outline of your dick. Like, the whole thing. Those shorts do not leave anything to the imagination. And, imagine I did. I began to fantasize about the most lewd things: getting you off with my hand, sucking you until you came down my throat, using those thick thighs to grind myself down onto, groping your perfect ass as you flip me over onto my back, feeling the sensation of our dicks rubbing together through our clothes, feeling you on me, inside of me. That last mental image snapped me out of my thoughts, and I realized I was rock hard in my own swim trunks.

We fell asleep, together, on the couch last night, cuddling like we had during the time that you lived with me, and I felt something similar to homesickness. Nostalgia. When we woke up, I was resting my head on your chest, and I shifted my eyes upwards to look at your lips, which were slightly parted by the soundest of sleeps. I wanted to kiss you. I really, really wanted to kiss you, Will. And I want you to hold me in your arms forever, because it’s the only place I can truly call home.

I continued shuffling through the letters, counting twenty five. Plus the one in the notebook, which made a grand total of twenty six. I could barely believe what I was seeing. This had to be a kind of creative writing exercise or something. Or maybe he’d met another person named Will and… fallen deeply in love with them? Or maybe it was a cruel joke Mike was playing on me, because he’d decided that writing love letters would be a good prank to pull on his gay best friend. He had no right to do this to me. No fucking right. I ripped the last letter out of the notebook, gathered the rest of them between my sweaty hands, and headed down the two flights of stairs leading to the basement.

When I’d attempted to confront Mike about the letters, I was pinned against the wall and kissed as if it were something I should have been expecting that entire time. There was no way I could have fathomed that this was how my time in Hawkins was going to close out. I’d been looking forward to the point in my life where everything could just be normal for once; I’d been on a decent roll for the past two years. But Mike just had to go and drop the bomb on me that he wanted the two of us to spend the rest of our lives together, and that threw me for a goddamn loop, because in what world– in what universe– was Mike Wheeler loving me, Will Byers, even remotely viable? Had the Upside Down come back again? Was I trapped in a nightmarish torture chamber, with Mike as the subject of said nightmare?

I would believe it, honestly; when I mentally added up the Vecnapocalypse period of our relationship (including the Almost-Kiss), the endless mixed signals afterwards, senior prom, the letters, and the probability that Mike would have just let me leave town without admitting his stupid, dumb, impossible feelings or letting me know about all of those love letters he’d written over the past few years, it made sense. And that kiss, if he’d really meant it, made Mike’s stance on our relationship crystal fucking clear, leaving me feeling breathless and blindsided. By the time I escaped the Wheeler house that humid August evening with tears following the semi-permanent track marks that stained my face due to crying for literal years back to back, I knew for sure and certain that I couldn’t spend one more week in Hawkins, Indiana. I was done.

I had been pretty damn quick about escaping Hawkins to begin with, but the urgency to get away from Mike only accelerated my timeline. I spent the rest of the summer avoiding Mike at all costs; I’d been working at Melvald’s with my mom all summer, but started picking up extra hours under the guise of wanting to save as much money as I could for my new car– which I’d already had more than enough money for, but still. Time spent at work was time spent away from Mike. And a couple extra paychecks couldn’t hurt. Mom certainly didn’t complain; she loved having me around, and savored every moment she could with her Baby Boy before I moved to the Windy City.

I realized, as I sat on my mattress amongst heaps of boxes scattered across the floor of my dorm at the American Academy of Art, that anger seemed to fuel my unpacking process. It ignited the flame of desire for transition and change in my life. And oh, after the summer I’d just had, did I desperately need a change. This particular change, I decided, would be good for me. I was out of Hawkins, at my dream school, about to begin studying the subject that I loved most in the entire world, and Michael Wheeler wasn’t around anymore to throw me off. I grabbed a marker out of my pencil case and marked off the date on my calendar: Sunday, August 20th, 1989. This was going to be a good, drama-less, normal year. I could feel it.

“That’s everything, huh?” I turned to look towards the doorway, where my mom stood with misty eyes. She took a few steps inside, letting the door close, and I hopped off my bed and wrapped her in a tight embrace, kissing the top of her head.

“Yeah, this is it,” I said, my voice shaking a little bit with overwhelming emotion. It was bittersweet. Yes, I hated Hawkins, and was grateful to have finally escaped, but I also hated the idea of leaving my mom back in Indiana. She’d brushed my concern off, saying she wouldn’t be alone, because my stepdad would be there with her. I didn’t even like referring to Hopper as my stepdad. I’d accidentally called Hopper “Dad,” over dinner a year ago, and after an emotional encounter where James Hopper, the Hawkins Chief of Police, shed actual tears, the name kind of stuck. Hopper couldn’t make the trip up to Chicago with Mom, as he needed to help El move into her dorm at Vanderbilt University.

Mom pulled back to smile up at me. “You are going to do, and are already doing, great things in this world, Will. You deserve every opportunity you’ve been given, and more. I am so proud to be your mom.” I felt tears pricking my eyes. I’d miss my mom the most.

“I love you,” I replied, hugging her once more in order to avoid an emotional breakdown. I’d gotten close to having one at least five times throughout the day, but never did. I saw the door open out of my peripheral vision, and I lifted my head to see a guy step into the room. His hair was shaved down to a buzzcut, and a copious amount of freckles splayed themselves across his face. He casually strode right past me, without even acknowledging my existence, before tossing his duffel bag onto his bed and unzipping it. Only now did I notice the near-complete setup on the other side of the room; he’d apparently been here for a while.

I decided to talk first and introduce myself, because this guy clearly wasn’t willing to make any effort. I wanted to make a good impression, even if Buzzcut Dude didn’t. 

“Hey, uh, I’m Will. Byers.”

“Aaron Heathrow,” Buzzcut Dude– Aaron– replied, turning towards me. We gained eye contact for the first time, and Aaron’s eyebrows curved into backwards S’s on his forehead. He looked me up and down and scoffed, returning to his unpacking without another word. Well. This was going to be an awkward arrangement, that was for sure.

“Honey, let’s go check out the common area!” Mom broke the silence, and I couldn’t help but glare back at her. I wanted to deal with this on my own. I loved my mom with my entire heart and would literally die for her, but this was not my idea of a fresh start. Mom gave me a knowing look and I, knowing my mother’s stubborn nature all too well, followed her out the door and down the hallway. She led us toward the armchairs in the common area and gestured for me to sit down next to her. I knew where this was going, but I obliged anyway.

“Are you sure–”

“Mom, oh my God, I’m fine–”

“He just seemed very–”

“Yeah, okay, he was rude,” I kept my voice low at the risk of people overhearing, but keeping my tone firm. “But not everyone in this world is kind. I, of all people, should know that.” I watched as my mom’s features fell from their usual anxiety-riddled state and into more of an empathetic sadness.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” she murmured, and for a second, I felt badly for snapping. I shook off that shame, because as unfortunate as this situation was, I knew in my gut that I was right; the world didn’t owe kindness to me. But I also knew I didn’t owe kindness to the world, either. It had taken enough from me already.

“I just want to stick this out for a little bit before jumping to conclusions,” I said, and my mom went to talk, but I continued on before she could. “I’ll switch rooms if anything does happen, I promise.” I took my mom’s hands in my own in an attempt to put her mind at ease, which would not be an easy feat, but I could at least try.

Apparently it worked, because the next thing she said to me caught me off guard: “Okay, sweetie. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” Who was this woman, and what did she do with Joyce Byers-Hopper? Hell if I knew.

“No, it’s fine,” I assured her, “I just… I want to start making my own decisions and being more independent and stuff. And I want you to know that I’ll be okay.” I placed a hand on Mom’s shoulder, knowing that this transition would be incredibly difficult for her to process. After everything that had happened with the Upside Down, I had been shocked when my mom was so encouraging regarding my pursuit of art school. I’d assumed that she would want me to stay as close to Hawkins as possible. But in the end, she had been the one to slide the American Academy of Art pamphlet across the table.

“I know you will,” Mom smiled up at me, reaching up to pat my cheek. I leaned into the affection, knowing that this would probably be my last time seeing my mom until Thanksgiving. She raised her left wrist up to her face and squinted at her watch. “I should start heading home, before it gets dark. I love you, my sweet boy.”

I couldn’t help but pull Mom in for one last hug, feeling the emotion creep back into my voice as I told my mom that I loved her so much and to call me when she got home so I’d know she was safe and sound. I walked her out of the main lobby, waving as she headed back to the visitor parking lot. When she pulled away, I turned on my heel and headed back up to my dorm room. My dorm room. Holy shit. I was in college. What even was life?

I opened the door to my room and saw Aaron laying on his bed, his basketball short-clad legs spread obnoxiously far apart in front of him as he read what looked like a book about the Reign of Ronald Reagan. Lovely. I diverted my eyes before he could catch me staring, and focused on the pile of boxes I had yet to unpack. I picked one up, set it down on the edge of my bed, and unfolded the pre-bent corners on the top to reveal my extensive sweater collection. Perfect.

I pulled out the blue sweatshirt on top, letting it fall into its full form in my hands. Oh, god. This was Mike’s sweatshirt, the one I’d stolen from him last winter. I laid it out on the mattress and reached in for the next sweater, but there weren’t any more. I peered inside the box to see the dice… that Mike had given me for my seventeenth birthday, the picture frame… that held a photo Jonathan had taken last year when Mike had the genius idea to hop his six foot three self up onto my handlebars, and the binder… that held all of Mike’s letters that he’d written to me. I’d kept everything in a shoebox under my bed back home, and I had no recollection of packing them. How did they end up making it to Chicago with me? No matter how it happened, it had, and I was stuck with all these memories of Mike. I would never throw them out, because that would most definitely keep me up at night. And I didn’t want to hide them away, because despite the sadness I felt when I looked at them, they were also accompanied by a strange sense of appreciation for what Mike and I did have: thirteen years of friendship. That’s still something, right?

I shrugged the sweatshirt on. I’m wearing it because it’s comfortable, I tried to justify myself to myself, not for any other reason. Now that that was settled, I was determined to unpack something that would make my room feel like my own. I set the dice and the picture frame on my desk and reached over to the rolled-up posters that sat on top of all my bags. I removed the tape from the edges of one of them and unrolled it to reveal the album cover of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John. I smiled to myself and grabbed a few thumbtacks from my box labeled “School Supplies,” before standing on top of my mattress and hanging the poster on the wall. Once I was satisfied with its placement (five attempts and three concerningly lost thumbtacks later), I got off of my mattress and took a step back to admire my work, putting my hands on my hips.

“Elton John?” I heard a voice ask from behind me, and I turned around to face Aaron, whose facial expression had settled into what looked like disgust. I’d forgotten he was even there. “Jeez, man, if I knew I’d be dorming with a fag this year, I’d’ve brought my gun.” I knew it. I knew he was a homophobe, I knew it from the second he’d looked me up and down when I’d introduced myself earlier. Maybe my mom was–

“Better to shoot you with, my dear,” I replied coolly, before snapping my mouth shut and widening my eyes at the realization that I was the one who had just said that. I’d never been good at comebacks; that was more of Mike’s specialty. In high school, I was the one stuttering out the lamest retorts of all time while Mike verbally kicked our bullies’ asses right back at record speed. I envied his lack of filter sometimes.

“What did you just say?” Aaron narrowed his eyes and moved to get off his bed and meet me in the middle of our room, so we stood face to face. I could feel his breath on my face, and it smelled like stale sour cream and onion chips, but I stood my ground.

“I said,” I lowered my voice, moving closer into Aaron’s space, “I’m a pretty damn good shot, so you’d best leave me alone.” He took a few steps away from me and put his hands up in surrender. Good. When I promised to myself that things were going to be different, I meant it. I was not going to take any shit from this guy, or anyone else for that matter. Not anymore.

“Where was I?” I asked myself, flipping right back into the good mood I’d been in before. I picked up the next one and hummed to myself before hanging up my poster of The Cure’s Boys Don’t Cry.

This campus was so confusing. I had to stop and turn around on the sidewalk at least three times before I found the Convocation Hall, where I was due… right now for orientation. I pulled the unnecessarily heavy door open with all the strength I had, which was not much, but I managed to make it through and reach the sign in table for last names A-E.

“Hi! Welcome to freshman orientation!” the girl seated at the table smiled at me, and I noticed little white stars drawn in the corners of her eyes. “Can I have your last name, please?”

“Sure, it’s Byers,” I replied, “B-Y-E-R-S.”

“William okay? For your name tag.”

“Just Will’s fine.”

“Alright,” she nodded, handing me one of those cheesy Hello My Name Is stickers. “So you’re gonna be over in circle seven, head on over there and take a seat!”

“Thank…” I trailed off, having to squint so I could read the name she’d written on her tag. Kate. “Thank you, Kate!”

“You’re welcome!” she called after me, and I walked over towards the table with the giant green “7” centerpiece. I glanced down at my tag, noticing what Kate had written on my tag: Just Will. I swiveled around quickly, and watched as Kate snorted a laugh, giving me a thumbs up. She was funny. I smiled back, returning the thumbs up before approaching my group.

I had no idea what to expect; we’d obviously be going over typical orientation things like campus life, rules and regulations, and maybe a fire escape route or two. But we would also more than likely be doing icebreakers, like a “getting to know your peers” kind of deal. I hated icebreaker exercises, because not much about me was interesting. Not much that I was legally permitted to share, anyway. And even if I could, I wasn’t sure if I would want to revisit that time in my life, or if I wanted others to know about what I’d been through. I was kind of grateful that my NDAs revoked that decision for me.

I reached the only empty seat left at my table– karma for my tardiness– and sat down with my group, who was already knee-deep in conversation. The only seat left was between two girls; one of them looked like she could star in a live action anime series, and the other looked like she’d fit right in with a stoner rock band.

A guy with bleach blonde hair noticed my presence and glanced up, a smile spreading across his face. “Aye! A newcomer! Welcome! What’s your name?”

“Uh, Will,” I eloquently said.

The guy stood up, crossing the circle in order to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you, Will! I’m Pete, your group leader, and…” he looked around at everyone else, “Why don’t we all go around the circle to catch Will up?” The girl sitting next to Pete lifted a hand in greeting, starting off the Name Game.

“Hey, I’m Claire Bierker.”

“Ryan Baker.”

“Jackson Boonstra.”

“Ivy Baldwin.”

“Hannah Reid.”

“Wait–” Pete cut Hannah off, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Reid? I have you on here as ‘Beid.’”

“Yeah, um, about that… there might have been a typo on my application, something to do with my terrible handwriting.” The rest of us laughed at that, including Pete.

“Well… I think you should be fine here. Will, take your seat between Hannah and Ivy, and we can get started on our other activities.” Half an hour went by, and we’d all kind of drifted away from the initial Orientation outline that Pete had been working off of. I was kind of glad that this was the case; if I had to tell one more person about my favorite food, I was gonna riot. Beside me, I felt Ivy nudge my arm with her elbow.

“So. This is gonna be a fucking blast,” she muttered.

“Tell me about it,” I replied.

“What’s your major?”

“Painting,” I said, “You?”

“Ceramics.”

“Woah, really? That’s so cool!”

“Thanks,” she grinned. I felt Hannah lightly tap my shoulder with her fingertips, and I turned my head to give her my attention. It hit me that I hadn’t been to a social function since that last high school party the Party and I went to; I wasn’t used to this amount of attention.

“I can’t help but notice your guitar pin on your backpack,” Hannah gestured downward, where my black Jansport backpack sagged onto my shins. “Do you play?”

No. The pin was Mike’s. I might have stolen it from him.

“My… my friend does,” I hesitated, trying my best not to outwardly cringe at myself. Mike was not my friend. Mike ruined my fucking life. He wrote twenty-six letters to me, confessed his undying love for me out loud, kissed me with an urgency that haunts me every night, and then expected me to just– “I don’t play any instruments. I wish I did. But I love to listen to rock music.”

“What are your favorite bands?” Ivy asked me, and I hummed in contemplation. I leaned back in my chair, wrapping my feet around the front legs for gravitational support. That way, I could see the both of them without getting whiplash.

“The Cure, Pink Floyd, The Smiths, the Beatles… I also like Bowie and Elton John.”

“Look at you! Hannah, this is my kinda guy!” Ivy exclaimed, smacking my shoulder so hard that I almost fell backwards onto the floor. Hannah saved me, though, pulling me upright again. 

“Let’s not scare him off, now,” Hannah laughed uneasily, and I shook my head.

“No, you’re not gonna scare me off. This is kind of… nice, actually,” I admitted, folding my hands together in my lap. “Would you guys wanna hang after this snooze fest is over?”

“I’m so down,” Ivy replied instantly, and Hannah agreed not even a second later.

Maybe making new friends wouldn’t be as difficult as I’d imagined.

We ordered a pizza and, in the meantime, headed up to my dorm. I unlocked the door and braced myself for Aaron’s usual disdain, but was pleasantly surprised when my roommate was nowhere to be found. I exhaled, and headed inside, holding the door open for the two girls. Hannah immediately gravitated toward my desk, where my set of dice rested atop the little purple pouch they came in.

“Oh my God, you play D&D?” she gasped.

I nodded, taking a few steps in her direction. “Yeah, I used to play more often with my friends back home. But… I kind of stopped a few years ago. They all lost interest.” ... ‘Lost interest’ was a fucking understatement.

“Well that’s depressing,” Hannah slumped down onto my comforter, haphazardly splaying her arms out on either side. “Tell you what, though,” she lifted her head to look at me, “My roommate, Kate just so happens to be the the DM of our school’s D&D Club, and she was telling me that they’re gonna be at the activities fair next week. Maybe we can check it out!” 

Wait a minute… I knew that name. “By any chance was Kate at–”

“The A-E sign in table at Orientation? Yup, that’s her!” she grinned. “She’s a junior. They paired all the freshmen with upperclassmen this year for some reason. Something about mentorship? I dunno,” she sat up and shifted her gaze to Aaron’s side of the room. “Who’s your roommate? He has…” she squinted, reading the titles of the books on his desk before widening her eyes in shock. “He has an interesting taste in literature.”

I could only nod. Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but notice Ivy’s fixation on something on my desk. Maybe she was just admiring the dice, or checking out my pile of books. But as I moved closer, I realized that she was staring at none other than the picture frame. The one and only picture frame I owned. The one and only picture frame I owned that just so happened to hold that one photo of– “Who’s this attractive string bean?”– Mike.

“Oh, he’s just a friend,” I said, and Ivy shot a suspicious look in my direction.

“Looks like you two were close,” she smirked up at me. “Really close.” 

“Were. Past tense,” I repeated back to her firmly. I really didn’t want to dredge up my turbulent… whatever-ship with Mike Wheeler right now. I just wanted to focus on the Here and Now of it all.

“So, Will, are you dating anyone?” Hannah asked, changing the subject. And for that, I would be eternally grateful. Because even from hundreds of miles away, Mike Wheeler still managed to stress me out.

“No, my love life is kind of dead at the moment,” I shrugged, and Hannah’s eyes lit up.

“Maybe we can find you a cute girl!”

Woah. I hadn’t been expecting to have to come out so soon, but… there’s a time and a place for everything, and apparently, this was both the time and place, no matter how apprehensive I felt about it.

“Um, about that…” I began, but was cut off by the sound of Ivy’s palm smacking the surface of my desk.

“What did I tell you?!” she exclaimed, her wild eyes meeting Hannah’s. “I called it. I. Fucking. Called. It.” I was so confused.

“Huh? Called what?” 

“You’re gay, right? You’re into guys?” Ivy asked, and I nodded hesitantly.

“See?!” she screeched suddenly. “I’ve got lesbian intuition!” 

“Guess I don’t have to formally come out, then,” I chuckled.

“I’m so sorry about her,” Hannah placed a hand on my shoulder, and I shook my head. I took her hand in mine, lowering our connected hands off my shoulder and swinging them back and forth between us.

“No, it’s okay, it made things easier for me, I guess. I’m kind of glad I didn’t have to prepare a dramatic speech or anything.”

“Yeah, God, that’s always a pain,” Ivy added. “It’s so stressful running the risk of ruining a friendship or relationship just by being yourself.”

I knew that experience all too well. “Yes, it’s horrible.” 

“I have a feeling we’re going to be good friends, William Byers,” Ivy smiled, taking both mine and Hannah’s free hands so we formed a triangle. “Best friends, even.”

My first class was Painting I with Dr. Miriam Horovitz, located clear on the other side of campus. I knew from the get go that it would take a while for me to figure out where the hell I was going, so I left an hour early, just in case something like this happened. And it did. So when I finally sat on a worn-down stool in front of an empty easel, it felt all the more surreal. I’d made it. To class. But also… I’d made it to art school in Chicago.

Dr. Horovitz was a short, middle-aged southern lady who had the combined fashion sense of a Flower Power protestor and a gothic, medieval witch. Mike would have loved– no. No. Not now. I needed to focus, specifically on the assignment Dr. Horov– Miriam, as she insisted upon us calling her– was explaining.

“So for your first assignment, I want y’all to paint something that brings you joy, but also inflicts immense pain. It could be a feeling, a person, a material object… it’s up to y’all where you want to take your projects. I’m just tryin’ to figure out everyone’s specific styles.”

If I were given this assignment a year prior, I would have done something related to the Upside Down. But now, as I closed my eyes, my thoughts went awry. Vines, snakes, fire… Mike. Vecna, gouged out eyes, mold… Mike. The rain fight. The Almost Kiss. The neverending flirtation. Prom. The letters. No, Will, I’m in love with you. Don’t say that, please don’t say that, you don’t mean it. Mike’s sobs echoing up the stairwell on my way out.

Well… looks like Mike is gonna be the subject of my first ever project in art school, I thought, rubbing a hand down my face with a groan. Fuck me.

I glanced at myself in the mirror, which I currently stood in front of, shirtless. I’d been insecure about my body for years. I had always been more on the skinny side, but then I got tall and skinny, my knees turned into knobs, and my voice dropped— but I kept my baby face. I was a walking contradiction. It didn’t help that my clothes just made me look worse. They were more often than not hand-me-downs from Jonathan, or purchased for a buck each at the thrift store. When I was younger, I would secretly resent my mom for not being able to afford newer, more flattering clothing. Then, I learned about the concepts of money and divorce, and that resentment never once entered my mind after that. I could never blame my mom for our circumstances, and would never dream of holding our poverty against her, but still. It was embarrassing. Especially when most of my other friends walked around looking like they’d come fresh out of the Starcourt Mall. Thankfully, when I’d moved to California, my shoulders had filled out a little bit, and I could wear most of those clothes without cringing anymore. And after the events of the Upside Down, I spent some of my government hush money on a new wardrobe.

Even then, despite the broader shoulders, newer wardrobe, and a few years’ time, there still wasn’t really much to see, physically speaking; I looked less like a young man, and more like a boy with unbalanced muscle mass and light, barely-there stubble on my jaw. To be fair, I was only five months into being eighteen, and had plenty of time for my body to mature. Working out would probably help quicken the process.

“Alright, man, you ready to go?” Aaron came out of the bathroom rather abruptly, startling me out of my thoughts. Aaron’s eyes lowered down to my torso, lingering for a few extra seconds before he said, “I’m glad you decided to come with. You definitely need it,” with a light chuckle. I felt my face burning up with self consciousness as I scrambled to my dresser, throwing on the first shirt I could get my hands on: a plain white Fruit of the Loom tee, the kind that came in a multipack. It was a bit loose on me; my mom had been a bit optimistic when she’d talked me into buying the mediums. 

I could have easily turned down Aaron’s offer to go to the gym with him. Aaron’s new membership included a promotional perk which gave him the option to invite a second person for free. In turn, once the person paying for the membership had built up enough points, they could redeem said points for a private training session. Aaron, a cup that apparently overfloweth with boundless generosity, offered that guest spot up to me. Because I was poor. And skinny. And I liked Elton John. That was, like, the trifecta of male incompetence. I often thought about why Aaron insisted upon coming to the American Academy of Art if he hated gay people so much. I assumed that in order to get on Aaron’s “good” side– whatever the hell that even meant, if it even existed–, I would simply have to play the role of a straight guy, which was what I had been doing for my entire life up until a few months ago, so it wouldn’t be difficult to do.

I hastily laced my black high top Vans up, tying them a bit too tightly, but I was too intimidated by my roommate’s eyes drilling lasers into my scalp to care. I grabbed my empty drawstring bag, because what do you even bring to a gym, tossed my wallet and keys into it, and followed Aaron out the door. We headed down the hall and descended the stairwell, and I watched as his calf muscles flexed with every step.

“So. How’re you liking the school so far?” he called back to me, and I got confused for a second, because, was he talking to me? “Any interesting classes this semester?” Oh. Okay, so I wasn’t just hearing things.

“Uh… it’s good,” I replied, quickening my steps to catch up to him, “I really like my painting class. The campus is just kind of confusing to navigate.”

Aaron chuckled at that, holding the door open for me once we reached the dorm hall entryway. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. I must have gotten lost seven or eight times in my first year.”

“Oh, you’re a–”

“Junior. Architecture major.”

Huh. I’d kind of forgotten about the Junior-Freshman pairing system. And it made a lot of sense why he had decided to pursue architecture. It’s the straightest art form there is. We approached the student parking garage, and Aaron fished in his pocket for his keys.

“Oh, nice,” I said, “what made you choose to go here?”

“They have the best architecture program in the state,” he shrugged. “I’m really into postmodern stuff as well, and most schools don’t really teach that. But they do here.”

When we got into his car, I had to hold myself back from rolling my eyes into the darkest depths of my skull, because of course it was a Mercedes. Aaron checked his reflection in the rearview mirror before reaching an arm behind my seat, leaning back and looking behind him as he backed out of the parking spot. I was shocked; Aaron seemed to despise being within two feet of me, and now he had almost come into contact with my shoulder. Were we… making progress? “By the way,” Aaron said once he’d changed gears, “I’m sorry for being such a dick. I think I misjudged you.”

See, now, my kneejerk reaction had always been to cut the person who was apologizing off with a lighthearted, reassuring, “No, it’s okay.” I always felt the need to absolve people of their guilt, but now, that need was seemingly gone, because I let him continue with his apology without interjecting once. And it felt nice to not take on someone else’s burden.

“I just can’t stand all these fucking homos around here, I thought I was stuck living with one.” If he hated homos so much, then what the hell was he doing at the American Academy of Art? What was he expecting? If you hate gay people, don’t go to an exclusive art school. You’re basically asking for your own personal torture chamber, I thought.  But I kept my thoughts to myself, opting to sit there in silence for the rest of the ride. The drama simply wasn’t worth it.

We arrived at the gym, and Aaron headed straight over to the treadmills. “Cardio,” he explained, and I went along with it, because if it weren’t for him, I would have no clue where to begin. We ran a mile and a half before switching gears and moving to the dumbbells. Aaron handed me a pair of 2-pounders, just to fuck with me, but then actually taught me how to lift the 5-pounders properly, without tearing muscle. We then moved over to the larger sets of weights, which Aaron loaded onto a bar and taught me how to do a proper barbell hip thrust, which I found to be a strange first exercise to teach someone. I had no idea so much effort went into the form and technique. But I found myself strangely loving it. I’d have to find time to go on my own time, so I didn’t feel so pressured as I did around Aaron.

I felt like I was dying as we stood beside the water fountain. I raised my cheap AAoA water bottle to my lips and chugged the lukewarm water as quickly as the dumbass mouthpiece would allow me, which was not much. I messed with it for a few seconds before Aaron grunted out, “Congrats on the new girlfriend, by the way.” I was so glad I hadn’t unscrewed the top yet, because I damn near dropped the bottle out of pure shock.

“I’m sorry, what?” I spluttered, and Aaron merely clapped my back with a laugh. “Don’t be shy, Byers, you’re dating Hannah fucking Reid! Own that shit!” Oh, I was going to kill her. I knew she meant well, but… really?

As soon as we got back onto campus, I sprinted to the girls’ dorms and up the stairs to Hannah’s room. I knocked, but could hear really loud music playing… was that Zeppelin IV? We’d gotten to that point in our friendship where Hannah, Ivy, and I would barge into each others’ rooms unannounced, but I apparently never got the memo that anything had changed. 

“Wanna tell me why Aaron goddamn Heathrow thinks we’re–” I started, but cut myself off at the sight in front of me. Ivy and Hannah pulled away from each other– no, excuse me, Ivy moved from where she’d been straddling a borderline naked Hannah on her bed. I turned away, shielding my eyes with a screech. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I should have knocked louder– You guys are together?!”

And then it made so much more sense. If Hannah and I were “dating,” at face value, then she’d be able to be with Ivy. And– in their words, not mine– I’d be able to find a “sexy hunk” of my own someday soon. As much as we all hated the idea of a “beard,” arrangement, it was the best possible way for all of us to love who we wanted to love. That conversation ended with happy tears, hugs, and hope.

My sketch of Mike was coming together nicely. I’d been meticulously planning it out for the past week on smaller sheets of paper, and had finally transferred it to a giant canvas. I shifted my hand from side to side across the canvas to darken and further emphasize Mike’s prominent jawline. It was insane how drastic and how quickly that transformation had happened; it was so hard to believe now that Mike had ever been bullied for his looks. If only our bullies could see what Frog Face looked like now. I was convinced that if someone were to put a piece of glass within three inches of Mike’s insanely sharp bone structure, the glass would split in two. I smirked at the thought and glanced down at my pencils, which I’d lined up neatly on my right hand side in order of lightest to darkest. I was about to decide which one to use for shading his cheekbones when I heard a familiar, strong Southern drawl from behind me.

“And who is this handsome young fella?” Dr. Horovitz asked me, and I felt my body deflate a little bit. She wasn’t wrong. Mike’s attractiveness was undeniable. Using Mike as my muse for the past thirteen years definitely helped in portraying his beauty. Even then, I didn’t want to entertain that idea any longer than I had to, so I downplayed it.

“Oh, just this guy from back home,” I said, refusing to meet her eyes, which I just knew were overflowing with curiosity, given the silence that followed. “He’s not important now,” I added, just to make a point. And that was the truth. He wasn’t important. He wasn’t… as important. Not as important as how I’d made him out to be throughout my childhood, sitting high on a pedestal. Dear Will, when I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my–

“I notice there’s a bite to the way you talk about him,” my professor noted, and I turned to try and meet her gaze, but she was observing my work thus far. “If he isn’t important now, as you say, he must have been important in the past.”

Who even was this lady? She was the professor of my painting class, yet she was reading me like a therapist would. And I knew by the slight insistence laced in her voice and the way she’d parked herself next to my station that she wasn’t going away until she’d gotten some answers.

“He and I didn’t leave things on the best terms when we left for school,” I admitted, and Dr. Horovitz nodded, processing. I turned away to take a sip from my water bottle as she spoke.

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. So he’s an ex boyfriend, then?” 

I nearly spit out my water. “God, no,” I said, feeling heat rise to my face at lightning speed. “He… uh, he’s– he was my best friend. Mike.” 

“Mm. Best Friend Mike,” she crossed her arms in thought. Suddenly, her eyes snapped over to mine, the eye contact sending chills down my spine. I worried about what she would try to pry out of me next. “He broke your heart, didn’t he?”

Well, shit. She’d been able to see right through me. Maybe I wasn’t as good of a liar as I thought I was. So much for being vague.

“Yeah,” I confessed slowly, watching a smile spread across my professor’s face. Sadist! “Yeah, he did break my heart. And he really messed with my head. But even now, I still believe he’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Well, you’ve covered the topic of the assignment quite well,” she told me, taking a step backwards. “I’m looking forward to seeing your progress.” 

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Will, I told all of you on the first day of class, call me Miriam. None of that old lady business.” 

“Sorry, Miriam.” 

“You’re forgiven.”

I watched Miriam walk away and begin talking to one of the other students in my class about their piece, and I tried to focus back on my work. But Miriam had gotten me thinking. She had gotten me thinking about one specific day. The day where Mike finally confronted me about the painting.

“Hey, can we talk about something for a second?” Mike asked from across his basement couch. I set my pencil and sketchbook down. He had insisted upon being a model for my potential college portfolio. I didn’t even know if I’d be going to art school at all, but he was so sure that I’d get in somewhere “really fuckin’ cool.” Mike shifted his body out of the position he’d been in for the past hour, and I heard his joints crack as he stretched his long legs out onto my lap. Don’t get a boner, Byers, I thought to myself, repeating it like a mantra in my head.

“Sure,” I croaked out, my voice rough from lack of use. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, “I was talking with El yesterday, and I mentioned the commission she’d given you for the painting.” Oh shit. “You know, the one from Spring Break.”

I gulped. “Yeah?”

“It’s kind of funny, actually,” Mike continued, “because El said she had no idea what the word ‘commission’ even meant. Do you know anything about that?”

“I’m not following,” I blurted out in a sad attempt to preserve my own feelings, but Mike knew that I’d never been capable of keeping secrets from him. 

“Come on, Will. I know you know what I mean.” He gave me a pointed look and pulled his legs in before scooching closer to my side of the couch, crossing his legs. Our knees touched, and I felt like I was on fire.

I knew then that I’d been caught red-handed. “I was trying to–”

“What, lie to me?” Mike cut me off as he stared down at the carpeted floor. “I thought we didn’t do that.”

“I told you what you needed to hear,” I said, and Mike crossed his arms.

“Yeah, so you lied.”

“I didn’t want to lie, Mike!”

“But you did, Will, and that’s–”

“Just listen, alright?!” I raised my voice, startling Mike into silence. I hated doing that, but it was the only way he’d listen to what I had to say. “Hear me out, okay?” Mike’s lips formed a straight, thin line as he nodded. “I just… I thought if the painting came from El, you’d feel needed again. Like, you told me you felt worthless to her, so I did what I could to try and… fix… that.” Suddenly, Mike’s face was inches from my own, and I could barely breathe. It was probably just my imagination, but I could have sworn I saw Mike’s eyes flicker down to my lips, then back up to meet mine again.

“You know,” Mike breathed, blinking slowly, “It would have meant a lot more if you’d admitted that the painting was from you.”

“Oh,” was the only word I was able to get out.

“Yeah,” Mike said, voice smooth as velvet, “You’re my person, Will.”

“Hey, Will! We– woah.” I hadn’t noticed I’d spaced out until Ivy’s voice hit my ears. I turned to see both her and Hannah gaping at my work.

“Oh! Hey!” I smiled, trying to keep the tone light, “I wasn’t expecting you guys to be–”

“Is that the guy from that photo in your room?” Hannah asked.

“Well… yes,” I admitted, “but he’s not–” 

“Bullshit,” Ivy interrupted, her eyes narrowed. “Bullshit to everything you’ve said and are about to say. You’re going to tell us about this boy.”

“Fine. Can I at least wash the paint off my hands first?”

Our D&D Club had a bi-weekly movie night, where we would all go to Kate’s house in our pajamas and eat enough snacks to feed a small army. Both Kate’s and my favorite candy was Reese’s Pieces, so there was always an overabundance of them in her pantry. I shoved my hand into a bag I had rested between my legs, throwing a handful back as if they were a shot of hard liquor. The credits of CLUE were rolling, and Kate spun around from where she sat on the floor wrapped in a giant quilt. She clapped loudly to get our full, undivided attention.

“Okay, so. What are we thinking for Halloween?”

Crickets.

“We need a group costume for the party in two weeks, obviously!” Kate exclaimed, as if this were supposed to be common knowledge. I didn’t think Halloween was a thing anymore. It certainly wasn’t a thing when I was still in Hawkins. “We need one that fits a group of five.”

“We should all be Ghostbusters!” Pete said, but Ivy immediately shot that idea down.

“Too clunky. Plus, the proton packs are gonna be a bitch to make, not to mention difficult to lug around everywhere.”

“She’s right,” I found myself saying, and felt all of my friends’ eyes on me, expecting me to explain myself.

“You’ve dressed as a Ghostbuster before?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “Back in middle school. My friends and I made proton packs out of vacuum tubes attached to these huge plastic boxes with straps.”

“That’s badass!”

“Well, yeah,” Kate shrugged nonchalantly, “But that also cancels out that option, since Will has done it already.”

“If we take into account every costume everyone has ever done, then there will be no options left,” Pete pointed out, and Kate grimaced.

“That’s fair.”

“What if we did Marvel characters?” Hannah asked, and I shook my head.

“That would put us in the same situation as the Ghostbusters, it’s too complex.”

“Hey, guys.”

“Fine, well, what if we did the Beatles?”

“There are four Beatles, Pete.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Guys.”

“What about Yoko?”

“Please don’t tell me you just suggested Yoko is the fifth Beatle, Pete.”

“Is she not???”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just ask that.”

“Mötley Crüe?”

“The Runaways,” Pete grinned. “Will and I could go in drag, it’d be so hot.”

Hannah’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why are we suddenly so focused on bands?”

“I don’t know, do you have any doable ideas?” Pete retorted.

“Hey assholes!” Kate snapped.

“What?!” we all shouted back.

“We should be the Mystery Gang.”

“As in Scooby Doo?” I thought out loud.

“That’s a really good idea, actually,” Pete nodded slowly. “It’s classic, people will know who we are, and they won’t perceive us as total rejects!”

“I want to be Velma,” Ivy announced.

“That makes one of us,” Hannah snorted.

“Hey! I’d be a hot Velma!”

“I won’t deny that.”

“I guess I’ll be Fred,” Pete said.

“Will has got to be Shaggy,” Kate giggled, reaching her arm out far enough to run her fingers through and mess up my hair. “I mean, his hair is perfect for it.”

“Yes, oh my God–”

“He’d be the buffest Shaggy I’ve ever seen,” Ivy said, and I whipped my head in her direction.

“Buff? What do you mean, buff?”

“Will, have you seen yourself lately?” Hannah gawked. I had no idea what she meant.

“I mean, yeah, I go to the gym pretty frequently, but like, it’s not like I’ve changed that much…”

“Will, honey,” Ivy sauntered over to where I sat, and crouched down until we were eye level. “We all know that I only have eyes for women, and even I can admit that you are smoking hot.”

“I concur,” Pete said.

“Seriously,” Kate exclaimed, “why hasn’t Will linked up with anyone yet?”

“Okay,” I tried to kill the tangent before it grew legs and ran away, “let’s not discuss my nonexistent love life–”

“Um, excuse me– it did, in fact, exist,” Hannah quipped back. “You just prioritized yourself over someone who treated you like shit.”

“Amen to that,” Ivy said, and everyone else laughed in agreement.

“So I’m gonna ask again: why hasn’t Buff Byers found himself a man yet?”

“Buff Byers,” Pete snorted, “that’s fucking brilliant.”

I put my face in my hands. “Jesus Christ.”

“Let’s be a little more realistic, because I’m pretty sure Jesus wasn’t into guys,” Hannah said, earning a sad laugh from me.

“Are you sure about that?” Ivy questioned her girlfriend, “Because his suspiciously close bond with twelve men shows us otherwise–”

“This is not the time to delve into biblical theology, baby.”

“He let Judas kiss his cheek! You cannot tell me he wasn’t at least a little bit gay.”

Okay, that was enough. “Guys, really,” I insisted, “I’m fine. I don’t need to date anyone right now.”

Pete quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t need to? Or you don’t want to?”

“Alright, everyone,” Kate called out to the rest of us, “so we’ve established that we’re going to this party as the Scooby Gang. But I have a plan in mind that’ll make this Halloween a night to remember.”

“Which is?” I asked warily. Kate couldn’t hide her devilish grin.

“Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man.”

I was sure that going to this off-campus Halloween party wasn’t the brightest idea I’d ever had. It wasn’t solely my idea, per se; we had decided upon our group costume weeks ago, and I was fully aware of the environment I was voluntarily entering, so I had plenty of time to back out if I wanted to. Even then, I didn’t back out, because I was obviously a new man; outgoing, social, and bold. I no longer allowed my crippling anxiety to interfere with my life. The latter statement would probably be a bit difficult to justify, though, considering the fact that I had soaked through my fluorescent, vomit-green tee shirt with sweat the second I’d walked through the door. It also didn’t help that my friends were still dead set on a singular mission for the evening: Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man. This was a bad idea. A really, really bad–

“Ooh, I spy with my little eye… Jose Cuervo! Come on!” Ivy exclaimed, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy underneath her fake glasses as she grinned up at me. Oh God, here we go, I thought as I followed my friend over to the center island in the kitchen. Every square inch of counter space was occupied by some form of hard liquor. This was not my first rodeo; I’d gone to a handful of parties back in high school. I enjoyed the atmosphere, but I just wasn’t a party animal, for the lack of a better term.

“Alrighty, one for you… and two for me,” Ivy muttered as she poured her favorite vice, Jose Cuervo tequila, into three disposable red Solo-brand shot cups before handing one over to me, and I took the cup hesitantly. She then grabbed two lime wedges out of a bowl on the kitchen counter, and located a salt shaker a few seconds later. She turned to me, grabbed my free hand, rubbed the lime on it, shook some salt over the spot so it would stick, then did the same for herself. She held one of her shot cups up to mine, clinking them together as a toast.

“Fuck Mike Wheeler!” she shrieked, and I burst out laughing. While I calmed myself down, Ivy licked the salt off her hand, threw the shot back like it was water, chomped down onto the lime, and cringed at the taste. Once she’d opened her eyes and seen that I hadn’t done his shot with her, she pouted up at me.

“You’re supposed to actually do the shot, not just stand there,” she whined. I looked down at the shot, squinting at it before lifting it up, bringing it to my lips. Before I could properly throw the shot back on my own, Ivy tilted the bottom of the cup further upwards, and I felt the tequila rush down my throat much faster than anticipated. “That’s how you do a shot, Billiam,” she told me as I sputtered out a cough, followed by an indignant grunt. I wasn’t mad; I probably wouldn’t have done it without her involvement.

“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been so incredibly selfless. You’d do anything to make people happy. But sometimes you do it at your own expense.” Not the time, Mike.

Ivy and I had stayed a few hours late in Miriam’s classroom to finish up our pieces, so we’d all agreed to just meet at the party. When I had set my brush down for the last time earlier that afternoon, I thought to myself, “Hey, I’ve finally achieved the closure I’ve always wanted, so I should feel better.” But I didn’t feel any different; if anything, I felt even worse than before. The Heart gave me closure, but I still felt like Mike was there. So when I arrived back at my dorm to change into my costume, I glanced at the bunched-up blue sweatshirt on my bed and made a decision: It was time to pack up the Mike Box again. I put everything (the dice, the frame, the sweatshirt, and the binder) back into a box and under my bed. Out of sight, out of mind. 

“Shaggy! Velma! You made it!” voices exclaimed from behind me. Hannah, Kate, and Pete approached us, dressed as Daphne, Scooby, and Fred, respectively. A smile quickly made its way across my face as I collided with my friends in a group hug. Once they all pulled back, the gossip was instantly afoot.

“So, any luck yet?” Ivy asked her girlfriend, who shook her head.

“Not yet, we just got here a little while ago.”

“I’ve seen a few potential candidates who I think he’d get along with–” Kate began, but Pete interrupted with an expression of pure confusion.

“Sorry, what’s going on?”

“Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man! Come on, Pete, get with the program!” Kate clapped her hands in the middle of the circle, and the rest of them laughed while I rolled my eyes. They were being absolutely ridiculous. I didn’t need to get any man, let alone a fine-ass one. I was perfectly fine with being alone. Totally content, and not at all depressed.

The song that had been playing faded out, and a familiar bouncy synth introduction to the next song vibrated up from the floor and sent shockwaves through my entire nervous system. Kate demanded immediately that the group should dance, and the rest of the Scooby Gang agreed, save for me. I didn’t do well on dance floors, because my claustrophobia often got the best of me. So I stood against the wall, watching as my friends disappeared into the crowd. The beat picked up, and I sighed deeply, crossing my arms over my chest. This was the radio cut. If Mike were there, he probably would have complained for hours afterwards.

“Will. I’m being serious! If you know about the existence of the 12” version of Smalltown Boy and still opt to listen to the radio cut, you’re committing a crime against both me and Bronski Beat. I said what I said. No further questions.”

I hated that I couldn’t tell Mike how, for once, I actually agreed with him. He wasn’t here with me, and it was all my fault.

I checked my watch– 8:26pm. We’d only been there for less than half an hour, and I already wanted to go home. There were enough people packed in the house for it to be considered a fire hazard, and my friends were nowhere to be found. So much for Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man. Besides, I was dressed as Shaggy from fucking Scooby Doo, there was no way any guy would want me while looking like a disheveled cartoon character. I decided to go outside to get some fresh air, and maybe smoke a cigarette… or five, but right when I began to move, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Kate and Ivy, standing on either side of a guy with spiky black hair and chunky black liner under his eyes. The only defining elements of his vampire costume were the fake blood dripping from the corners of his painted red lips and the cape draped over his shoulders.

“Will, Matt. Matt, Will. Speak,” Ivy rushed out, pushing us together by our backs. I watched, stunned, as my friends pushed their way through the crowd, giggling the entire time. I then shifted my gaze to meet eyes with… the very hot guy who stood before me.

Matt.

-

next part

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[heavenlybutler]

i can’t keep waiting

part two

pairing: austin!elvis x reader

summary: elvis returns from tour and the two of you officially get together. but problems arise when he explains the plans the colonel has for him.

warnings: (horribly written) smut, fluff, some angst at the end, probably some grammatical errors.

note: i’m embarrassed at how many hours i’ve worked on this part. i’ve written out so many things and ended up deleting them to start over. also, i absolutely suck at writing smut so just bare with me as i try to get better at it. there will probably only be one more part after this one. i’m still shocked at all of the love it’s been receiving because when i had originally posted it, i had no idea for what i wanted in part two. all that being said, i hope everyone enjoys! if you have any ideas for part three please message me because i need all the help i can get lol. thanks so much for all of the love!! <3

elvis kept his promise to you about keeping in touch every day. he called every morning and every night. he’d share every single detail of his days, not wanting you to feel like you were missing out on a second of it.

you had gotten through the first two weeks without elvis with ease. you distracted yourself with work, taking extra shifts just to keep yourself busy. but it had almost been three weeks without him and it was definitely starting to get to you.

you didn’t want elvis to know how selfishly you missed him. you knew he’d turn around his car in a flash if he knew that you’d been lying in the bed crying over him all day. elvis always sounded like he was having the time of his life whenever he called. you were happy for him but it hurt you to know that being away from each other wasn’t really affecting him like it was you.

“you barely said a word on the phone this mornin’. and now, i can still barely get a peep out of ya’. what’s on your mind, baby?,” elvis’ voice echoed out of the phone and into your ears.

“just tired is all,” you mumbled, playing with wire coil that connected the phone to the wall with your fingers.

“you sure that’s all?,” elvis questioned, concern lacing his voice.

you ignored him, wanting to hear your own question answered, “do you miss me?”

you heard a light chuckle from the other end of the phone, “‘course i miss you. i tell you everyday, sweet heart. why would you even question that?”

“it’s just… you sound like you’re having the best time- which i’m so happy about. god, i’m so proud of you, insanely proud. you know how happy i am for you, i tell you all of the time… but it’s like i’m drowning without you here. and i know it’s selfish to say… i just feel stupid because i’m the only one drowning…”

“y/n, you’re the first thing i think about when i wake up in the morning and the last thing i think about before i go to sleep. you never leave my mind lonely. you’re always there, not anyone else, you. i miss you just as terribly as you miss me, i promise.”

you immediately felt guilty for asking that after his sweet response, “i know- and i’m sorry. i just miss you, like a lot.”

“ain’t gotta be sorry, darlin’. you don’t have to miss me much longer either ‘cause when i get home, you ain’t leaving my sight,” elvis chuckled, bringing a small smile onto your face.

“only one more week…,” you reminded yourself out loud, trying to keep positive.

elvis and you conversed for a few more minutes before yawns started to escape both of your lips.

“getting sleepy?,” elvis asked.

“a little but i would rather stay up and talk to you,” you yawned, once again.

“i’on wanna keep you up ‘cause i know you got work in the morning… i’ll call you as soon as i wake up, ‘kay?”

you groaned, knowing you were going to miss his voice as soon as the phone call ended.

“okay,” you mumbled, elvis hearing the pout in your voice which earned a chuckle from him.

“i love you, y/n. sweet dreams.”

you never got tired of hearing those first three words coming out of his mouth. elvis hadn’t forgotten to tell you those words before ending every phone call in the past three weeks

“i love you, elvis,” you smiled, placing the phone on the hook.

“have i mentioned my boyfriend is coming home sunday?,” you spoke to your coworker, maria, with a large smile on your face.

“only about ten damn times,” maria laughed as she rolled her eyes.

maria was a couple of years older than you and she had become one of your best friends through the past year of working at the diner. she was very easy to talk to and was like a big sister to you.

“i’m sorry,” you giggled, slapping your hand to your heart pretending to take offense. “i just can’t wait to see him…”

you and maria talked over milkshakes since there were no customers at the moment. it was currently three in the morning on a friday, you didn’t expect any more customers until the morning rush at six. so the both of you made yourself comfortable in a booth.

“what’s he like?,” maria asked out of pure curiosity.

“well first of all, he’s very- like very, very handsome. he’s caring, sweet…,” you went on for minutes, gushing over the boy.

“i didn’t even know they made men like that anymore. where did you find him?,” maria joked.

meanwhile, elvis was on his way back to memphis earlier than planned, which you were completely oblivious to.

“you ready to see your girl?,” scotty nudged elvis on his shoulder with a grin as elvis drove down the road.

“ain’t ever been so ready for something in my life,” elvis chuckled, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

elvis had told his bandmates about you the day they had left for tour. he needed to tell someone about you, he just couldn’t hold it in. bill and scotty were a bit surprised at first, thinking of dixie. but elvis explained how he had never felt the way he did about you with dixie.

it was something completely new to him, he had always thought he loved dixie until he met you, it was something different. elvis fell in love with you. he didn’t know there was such a big difference between loving someone and being in love with someone until you.

two weeks into the tour, elvis had called dixie and ended things with her. the guilt was getting to him and he just couldn’t drag her along for another two weeks. she took it exactly as elvis expected, tears and screaming.

elvis felt bad for days after but he knew it had to be done eventually. he knew dixie would get over it sooner or later. he had almost gotten the whole situation off of his mind until a few days later, his mama called him.

“why in god’s name did dixie just come here cryin’, elvis?,” his mother practically screamed through the phone, obviously upset.

“i broke up with her, mama…,” elvis spoke softly, hoping his mother would calm down.

“why would you do that? y’all two were happy… been together two years…,” gladys trailed on repeating herself, “why would you do that?”

“i met someone,” was all elvis responded, ready for his mother to explode through the phone again.

“on the road? you couldn’t have known the girl ten seconds, elvis! what were you thinkin’? you two were happy,” gladys spoke with so much anger in her voice and it dug under elvis’ skin to hear words come out of her mouth that weren’t even true.

elvis ran his fingers through his hair, trying to calm himself down before he flipped. “mama, dixie ain’t been happy with me for the past six months. she’s always complaining about me having no damn time for her,” elvis paused, waiting for a response but not getting one so he continued. “the girl i met… i met her months ago at that diner me and the boys go to, uptown in memphis.”

“so you’ve been cheating on the poor girl?,” gladys painfully choked out, like he had hurt her too which made elvis’ heart pound.

“no, mama…,” elvis lied through his teeth for the sake of his mother ever being able to look you in the eyes. “we’ve just been seeing each other as friends but i know there’s something more there. her name is y/n, she’s wonderful really. she’s kindhearted, caring, a hard worker… she reminds me of you.”

elvis talked about you for days until his mama finally accepted the thought of you. gladys could tell that her son already loved you just by the way he spoke about you. she ended up telling him, “all that matters to me is that you’re happy.”

so elvis took that as a win in his book, he couldn’t wait to introduce you to her. but he didn’t tell you anything about the dixie situation over the phone, he’d rather tell you in person because it was a lot to take in.

it was pushing five in the morning as you laid your head on the booth you had been sitting in for hours now, trying to fight sleep.

maria had almost fallen asleep too but shot up when headlights pulled into the diner parking lot.

you heard a groan leave her lips before she sat up straighter, “got a customer…”

“rock, paper, scissors?,” you mumbled sleepily as you peered up at her, hearing the door open behind you.

maria rolled her eyes at you, looking over to the entrance where a boy was walking in, “this one ain’t bad on the eyes, i’ll take him.” maria smirked as she got up, your head falling back to the table because the last thing you were interested in was a random boy walking into the diner at five a.m. you didn’t even care to take a glance at him before your eyelids fluttered shut.

that was until you heard a very familiar voice. there’s no way, you thought to yourself before lifting your head up. your once sleepy eyes shot open as you saw elvis standing by the entrance, his eyes already on you.

you immediately stood up and ran over to him. you felt tears build up in your eyes as you threw your arms around his neck. his cologne scent that you had missed for weeks engulfed you immediately as your head rested in the crook of his neck.

elvis’ arms wrapped tightly around your body, lifting you a few inches off of the floor. you had to be dreaming, you couldn’t believe this was real life.

your mouth hung open as elvis placed you back down on the floor, your hands placing themselves on either side of his cheeks. you simply stared at the face that you had been missing for far too long. elvis looked tired and it showed in his eyes, but he looked happy.

“is this real?,” you mistakenly asked out loud. you couldn’t believe he was here, right in front of you.

“it’s real, darlin’,” elvis smiled widely, placing a kiss on your lips that was basically all teeth because the both of you just couldn’t stop smiling. “i ain’t ever leaving you again,” elvis whispered against your lips while wiping a tear that fell down your cheek.

you looked back to the large clock on the wall, maria noticing you checking it as she had been viewing your whole love fest.

“y/n, get out of here! i’ve got this,” maria smiled at you widely.

“are you su-,” you couldn’t get your question out before maria cut you off.

“you love birds better go before i change my mind,” maria said with a shewing motion of her hands.

“i love you!,” you yelled to her as you grabbed elvis’ hand and dragged him out of the diner.

the two of you walked to his car, hand in hand. elvis politely opened the door for you as he always did.

elvis slid into the driver's seat, smiling when he turned to look at your face. he could never get tired of looking at you after going a month without seeing your face.

“what do you want to do?,” elvis asked as he cranked up the car. it was a silly question for it to be five in the morning.

“want me to be honest?,” you smiled as you reached over the console to grab his hand from his lap.

elvis nodded his head as he smiled back at you, “i’d love nothing more to get in my comfy bed and go to sleep right now,” you paused, “with you of course.”

elvis leaned over the middle console to place a short kiss on your lips. “i was thinking the exact same thing,” elvis chuckled.

“mama is out of town with her boyfriend so she won’t be there to chew us out in the morning,” you explained before elvis had the chance to ask. your mom loved elvis but would never be comfortable with letting any boy stay the night with you.

the drive to your house was filled with a lot of comfortable silence besides you questioning him about why he was home so early. elvis explained that the last show was canceled so he and the boys left and headed back to memphis before the sun even rose yesterday.

the two of you made it to your house a few short minutes later. you made your way into the bathroom, putting on your pajama slip that you had taken off and mindlessly thrown on the floor the previous morning.

you then walked into your room, seeing elvis already curled up in your bed. the clothes he had been wearing sprawled out on your floor. his tired eyes met yours as you walked over to the bed.

“comfy?,” you chuckled while pulling back the covers to crawl into the bed next to him.

“very,” elvis smiled, extending his arm out on a pillow so you could lay your head on it. you reached to turn your beside lamp off before cuddling into him. you laid on your side, head laying on his shoulder as you wrapped your top leg around him. it had to be one of the best feelings in the world to simply be beside the boy that you love.

you felt like you could finally release a breath that you had been unknowingly holding in for a month. you were unbelievably content in his arms.

“god, i’ve missed you,” elvis whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead which made you look up at him. the room was dark but the moonlight that came through your curtains illuminated enough light for you to faintly see his features.

you had your whole body wrapped around him but you still didn’t feel quite close enough. you leaned up onto your elbow so you could connect your lips to his. your lips were needy for him and it showed in the way you cupped his face to bring his lips impossibly closer to you.

your tongue almost immediately made its way into his mouth when he opened it even slightly. one of elvis’ hands placed itself on your lower back while his other hand rested on your thigh that was thrown across his body.

your hand left his face and placed it flat on his upper bare chest. you happily hummed into the kiss as you felt something hard on the inside of your thigh which was pressed to his crotch.

at that moment, you no longer thought about dixie. all you could think about was having the man you love inside of you so he was close to you. that’s all that you wanted right now.

elvis tugged at your thigh, signaling that he wanted you on top of him. before you did that, elvis broke the kiss to sit up so his back was rested against the head board.

“c’mere, baby,” elvis whispered as he patted his thigh. you immediately felt him under you when you sat down in his lap. elvis let a groan leave his lips due to the friction of you being sat on his erection.

you wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you. you yearned for more friction against your damp panties so you began to rock your hips back and forth slowly. elvis’ hands rested on your hips, squeezing them as he steadied you. you rested your forehead against elvis’, feeling his breath hit your mouth which was gaped open from pleasure.

“want you inside of me, elvis,” you whispered against his lips.

elvis had been waiting for this moment for months so he was quick to make it happen. his hands left your hips as you lifted them so he could pull his boxers down. as soon as he did, his length sprung up and slapped against his toned stomach.

you looked down in between the two of, in awe at his size. you had slept with a handful of people but never anyone close to his size. your breath hitched as elvis’ fingers came down to your panties, brushing over your folds as he pushed the lace panties to the side.

“you sure, darlin’?” elvis asked, looking into your eyes deeply. you nodded quickly because you had never been more sure of something.

elvis brought his palm to his mouth, spitting in his hand before spreading the saliva onto his length. he used it as lube, wanting to take any measure for it to be as painless as possible for you.

your hips hovered over his length as he drug the tip up and down your folds, stopping at your entrance. you grabbed onto his shoulders for support before sinking down onto the tip.

“go as slow as ya’ need to, baby,” elvis comforted you as his hands rested on your hips to steady you.

you slowly sank down a couple more inches, pleasure surprisingly ensuing you. a light moan left your lips as your eyes fluttered shut.

“makin’ the prettiest sounds,” elvis spoke which encouraged you take make more as you sink down some, him being halfway inside of you now.

it seemed as if he got thicker the farther you went down which caused you to start feeling a highly uncomfortable pain.

“elvis… i- i can’t,” you whimpered, the pain causing you to squeeze your eyes shut.

elvis’ hand grabbed your jaw, pulling your face close to his. his thumb rubbed circular motions on your cheek to comfort you.

“open- look at me,” elvis spoke, his voice deeper than usual. elvis waited for your eyes to flutter open before he spoke more, “doin’ so good for me, baby. you’re almost there…”

you focused only on his words, trying to forget about the pain. elvis could see the pain you were in from the look on your face and it was killing him. his current pleasure wasn’t worth your pain.

“we can st-,” elvis began to whisper but you cut him off quickly.

“n-no! just keep t-talking to me,” you managed to groan out.

“feel so damn good wrapped around me…”

you moaned as your zeroed in on the praise you were receiving.

“can’t believe you’re all mine… can’t believe your pussy is all mine,” elvis said as you finally bottomed out.

suddenly feeling him hit a spot inside of you that you didn’t know was there. your head went completely numb as your mouth dropped open. the pain was still there but it didn’t compare to the amount of pleasure that ensued from the head of his cock sitting on your sweet spot.

elvis could have let go at the pure sight of the scene in front of him. he thought he loved you before but he felt something even stronger as your tight walls fully engulfed him. elvis was now experiencing an obsession over you. he was absolutely and utterly obsessed with you.

you stilled for at least a minute, trying to get used to the feeling of the new found pleasure.

“wan’ me to help you start movin’, darlin’?” elvis asked as his hands left your cheeks and placed themselves on the underside of your thighs.

“please,” you managed to whimper out.

elvis gripped your thighs as your knees dug into the mattress on either side of him. he began to lift you gently, sliding you down on him even more gently.

the pain started to subside the more you moved so you kept going. a moan left your mouth each time his tip hit your sweet spot.

you brought your mouth to elvis’s, pressing opened mouth kisses to his lips every few seconds.

elvis’s hands left your thighs as he noticed you were now guiding yourself up and down on him. elvis enjoyed the slow pace you were at as he looked down in between you, watching his cock disappear into you when you bottomed out.

elvis started to bring his hips up to yours so you wouldn’t have to do so much work by yourself. but once he started he just couldn’t help himself from going faster.

suddenly elvis was fucking up into you, at a harsh and fast pace. you didn’t know what had came over him but you let it happen. the most erotic sounds escaped from your mouth as his tip hit your spot, over and over again.

“such-a-good-girl-for-me,” elvis grunted in between thrusts. those words alone bring a new sensation inside of your body.

“elvis, i-,” you started but couldn’t get the words out because of elvis repeatedly pounding up into you.

elvis felt you clench around him, immediately knowing what your previous unfinished sentence was about.

your whole body began to shudder, the unfamiliar feeling in your stomach unwinded while elvis still pounded into you. sobs spilled out of your mouth from the pure pleasure that was running through your body.

elvis wrapped his arms around your body as he flipped over to lay you down on the mattress, his cock still in you as he did so. elvis brought your legs around his waist and rested his head in the crook of your shoulder, slowly pushing into you.

a sob of overstimulation left your mouth as you clutched onto elvis’ broad shoulders.

“i can-can’t,” you groaned out, elvis stilling inside of you. he pulled his face from the crook of your neck to look at you.

“you can be a girl for me… i can go slow for my good girl. take me for a few more minutes?,” elvis asked but it came out as more of a demand.

you nodded your head because you’d do anything to make him happy. as long as he was happy, you were happy.

elvis was absolutely pussy drunk as he began to slowly pump himself in and out of you. in that moment, he had never felt more in love in his life.

“love you so much, darlin’,” elvis whispered into your ear, peppering kisses below it. “s’glad you’re mine…”

elvis had never experienced sex this good in his whole life and neither had you. he never wanted it to end but he knew that wasn’t realistic.

“ain’t no man ever gonna touch you this way again. you hear me?” elvis grunted, his pace growing sloppier. you loved how possessive he was becoming over you.

“i’m yours, all y-yours,” you breathed out as you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer to you.

elvis brought himself deeper inside of you with every stroke. the feeling you felt earlier returning to your lower stomach.

elvis brought his head out of the crook of your neck to look at you, “i’m gon’ marry you one day…”

the words made your eyelids flutter open, finding elvis staring at you with pure lust in his eyes.

“you want that, darlin’?”

elvis bottomed out inside of you, staying still for a few seconds which almost drove you up at the wall.

“y-yes,” was all you could manage to choke out because your orgasm was very close to approaching again.

“gon’ have all my babies? let me fuck you like this for the rest of your life?” elvis rambled breathlessly.

“mhm…” you moaned out as you gripped onto his black hair.

elvis decides in his head from that moment on, that no one else would have you. you were his and were only ever going to be his.

the next few days were spent with elvis by your side every second. he finally told you that he ended it with dixie weeks ago, which you shouldn’t have been so happy about but you were. you were just happy that he was yours, officially yours.

elvis introduced you to his parents and immediate family very quickly. it was so quick that you barely had time to process everything around you, but you were happy. gladys and you got along surprisingly well in the past week. elvis would bring you around everyday, you felt like you were invading but elvis insisted on it.

you were helping gladys clean up the dishes from the meal you and his family had just enjoyed. elvis and his father sat at the kitchen table and chatted as you made small talk with gladys.

the whole day had been wonderful but you felt like elvis was on edge for most of it. you thought about asking him if he was alright but you figured you were just overthinking.

that was until elvis suddenly stood from the dining table, walking over to lean himself on the corridor of the kitchen.

your attention was drawn to him when you heard him let a cough out. you looked over to find him nervously fiddling with his fingers.

“um… i wanted to give it some time until i brought this up,” elvis spoke, looking between you and his mother’s nervous facial expressions, “but the colonel fellow that took me on the hayride tour… he thinks we could do some great things together.”

gladys sat her dishrag on the side of the sink before asking, “great things… meaning what, elvis?”

elvis’ eyes traveled down to the floor as he continued, “television, recording contracts, hollywood… the colonel wants to represent me exclusively. he wants me to do more shows with him. he said he could have me signed to a big record label that has national distribution… like rca.”

the words that flowed out of his mouth sounded absolutely crazy to you. you thought there was no way that any of those things could happen.

“elvis, you sound crazy… i don’t know what this colonel has put in your head to make you think he could do all of these things. sam phillips is a good man we can trust but we don’t know this colonel from a nail in the wall,” gladys spoke with disbelief in her voice which also showed on her face.

he would be leaving you again… and that was the only thing that you could think about. elvis had promised he’d never leave your side again but apparently he had completely forgot about that promise.

elvis continued to go back and forth arguing with his mama. you stared emptily at the kitchen floor, you couldn’t process any of the situation that was going on around you.

“darlin’,” you heard the familiar nickname come from elvis which pulled you out of your staring trance. you looked up at him, not even wanting to hear anything else come from his mouth because you it would be disappointing.

“the colonel also mentioned to me that i’d have to put it out there…,” elvis paused to nervously look away from your eyes, “that i ain’t got a girl…”

your heart broke into a million pieces at the sound of those words. the tears that you had been holding in were now falling down your face. you couldn’t even look at him anymore, it was making you sick.

you quickly ran out of the kitchen and past elvis, escaping his failed attempt of grabbing hold of your arm. you ran out of the apartment complex as you heard him chase after you.

you sprinted as fast as you could, hearing him shout your name behind you.

“baby, slow down! just come back,” elvis yelled as he ran down the street after you.

you body started to give out on you the longer you ran. you finally had to stop, leaning against a brick building as tears now covered your whole face. you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to make the tears subside. you knew elvis wasn’t far behind you but you didn’t know how far until you heard his footsteps a couple feet away from you. elvis immediately tried to wrap his arms around you for comfort.

“don’t come near me, elvis!,” you breathlessly yelled as you pushed his arms off of you.

elvis had never seen you so upset and it was breaking him on the inside.

“baby, i won’t tryin’ to break up with you… i was just-,” elvis started but you didn’t even want to hear what he had to say.

“i can’t do this,” you shook your head as you began to walk away from him. elvis quickly grabbed your arm which made you turn around and snatch it from his grip.

elvis backed up at the sudden movement, “just talk to me… we can figure this out, i promise, y/n. i love y-.”

you cut him off quickly by raising your voice, “you don’t fuckin’ love me, elvis! you’ve kept me hidden away for four damn months until this past week! y-you promise not to leave me over and over! but as soon as i finally get comfortable you’re trying to get out of the door again!”

“no, baby. that ain’t it,” elvis spoke with a shaky voice, “i want you to come with me… everywhere. i want you to be there every step of the way. i won’t ever thinking about leavin’ you again.”

elvis spoke sincerely but all you could hear leaving his mouth was pure bullshit.

“you expect me to follow you around like a damn lost puppy? i have a job, elvis! i have a life!,” you screamed at the top of your lungs, pointing your finger to his chest.

you saw tears begin to fall from elvis’ eyes and as much as it broke you… you had to act like you didn’t care because apparently he didn’t care that much about you.

“i want to make a life for us, y/n… a new one, a better one… one where you don’t have to work your ass off every single day to make tips just to help your mama pay the water bill. all i want is to take care of you, damn it! why the hell won’t you let me?,” elvis’ voice became louder as he got more frustrated with you.

all you could do was shake your head, letting silence linger for a few seconds.

“if this life includes me being hid away in a damn closet for the rest of my life…,” you spoke as you inched closer to him, “then i don’t want anything to do with it,” you spat.

[to-the-stars8]

Learning to Love Slowly

Parings; Jason Todd x Reader 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

13- Time and Love and Flowers

The vigilante didn’t know a lot of things, which was a fact he knew for sure and frequently conveyed the sentiment. Jason was fully aware of his downfalls, but, for some reason, not his greatest characteristics. 

He didn’t recognize how friendly and sweet he was with the people around him. It wasn’t odd to see Jason joking with the old lady waiting for the bus like they had known each other for years or buying the kids hanging around the corner store snacks just because he could. He was a lot more charismatic than he let on or even knew. 

You first noticed it at the beginning of your friendship. The way he talked to you was what gave it away. Conversations with Jason were easy. You could always count on his honest, sometimes humored, opinion. He hid nothing from you and only asked in return that you hid nothing from him. And you didn’t.

Then, there was the fact that he often took his time with things when the mask was off. Time, as you eventually figured out, was one of the things he loved to have with you. You figured that it was because vigilante life was fast and there weren’t many calm moments in-between. Or maybe it was his death that made him realize that was all he had in the end. 

When you two started to date, you quickly observed the way it seemed to sink into your love life with him. Often, Jason would stand on your fire escape with flowers that reminded him of you from patrol with sweet, awkward words about how much he enjoyed knowing you and your company. He would talk about how much he liked the way a certain book of his was going or talk about little things in his life. Without realizing it, the two of you had talked for hours. 

One evening, in the first week you two had started to date, you and Jason were sitting on your couch. He had just gotten done with patrol and you with a long, unexpected shift. It was quiet except for the low volume of the TV. 

The energy drink you had earlier hadn’t worn off yet, but it was getting close to burnout. Jason, on the other hand, was nowhere near tired. He had grown up used to long nights that required being fully awake, and that would not wear off until the sun was high in the sky. 

“I’ll be away for a while in the next few days,” Jason said suddenly. 

Your brain was still trying to stay awake, which nearly caused you to miss the statement, but you heard it you and looked at him. His eyes were on you, looking like they were searching for something on your face. 

“I’ll miss you,” You whispered, scooting closer. 

For a moment, surprise crossed Jason’s face before turning back to his cool, casual expression. As friends, his being gone was something that, at first, didn’t phase you, but, over the course of a year, you started missing him. You found yourself wondering what Jason would be doing, if he was thinking of you, and if he felt the loss of your company like you did his. 

Jason’s gaze finally broke from you, looking down at the hands in his lap. You hoped he would reach for your hand just so you could feel how warm you thought they were. He didn’t but looked back at you instead. “I won’t be long. I promise.”

“Will you miss me?”

“Yes,” Jason hoped you didn’t hear the desperation in his voice. Despite being less than a foot from you now, he already wished to be back in your company. “More than anything.”

You could have leaned over and kissed him, but remembered his desire to move slow. So, you would wait for him as you had started to like the slowness of your relationship. For the first time in a while, you felt like something real was happening between the two of you. 

“When you get back, let's go to that new museum exhibit.”

Jason smiled a little. “I’ll take you out to dinner, too.”

“You have to,” You said. “I want to hear all that’ll happened.”

“Guess I have no choice, huh?” Your boyfriend whispered. 

You smiled before turning back to the TV since there was nothing left to be said. Together the two of you sat in silence, happy that the honesty that, despite the distance, would you miss and wait for him. In turn, Jason, though would not admit it unprovoked, promised himself to always return to you.