#How she's looking elsewhere rather than at the jump | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bakugoushotwife · 4 months

Text

a/n: omg heyyy i make my grand return with my humble offering to @ohkento 's reddit theme collab!! i also have a piece for shouto coming up next, but here is the first one!! i took a while off after kinktober so if this is bad....lie to me!

warnings: dark content. nsfw. no minors. yandere theme gojo, no physical harm to reader, baby trapping, threats (not to reader), female reader, breeding, pentration, oral (fem!receiving), reader is kinda dumb lol.

summary: STORYTIME: I (28M) CAN'T STOP BREEDING MY GIRL BEST FRIEND (28F)!! it's a serious problem...i'm really reaching my breaking point here. i've been in love with this chick since high school and she keeps chasing other guys...but fucking me when the dates go wrong, help!

it’s been his dirty little secret since his years at tokyo tech. you’ve always been a looker, never were you short on attention from lesser men that aren’t worth your time—and yes, that includes when geto crushed on you all through the second year of school. but they never were quite what you were looking for, and every night of passion or attempt at a meaningful connection always ended the same—dialing up your closest confidant satoru to come console you and stuff your cunt full and wipe your tears–to make it better, like best friends do.

satoru was all too aware of your little predicament, because he had struggled with the same issues–except he realized his fate years ago and was determined to have it. you are his and his alone, no matter how many scrubs that try to take you from him. if only you would open your eyes. you were obviously hopelessly in love with him, of course—that’s why no one could compare! and that’s why you always turned your teary eyes and pretty pussy to him after yet another date gone wrong. he knew he was the only cure, and he’s given up on hoping you’d see the truth for yourself.

he tried to play the patience card, licking your tears off your face as he pounds his love into you, telling you that you’re worth so much more than those guys you keep letting break your heart. he tried being the nice guy that holds you after yet another promising prospect never texts you back–buying you dinner and bouncing you on his cock until you were crying from pleasure instead of heartbreak. each time, he buried his load in your womb until it was spilling out around him—hoping to give you no other choice but to pack your bags and move onto his estate to further the gojo clan with the very man at the head of it, but it seems your ovaries were just as stubborn as you are. he didn’t know how much more of this he could stomach—just waiting to be your knight in shining armor while laying in bed at night, staring at the pictures of you, both lewd and cute alike while wondering just how long it would take to have you laying beside him in his bed instead of the pixels on his phone screen.

he’s had enough. it’s clear his plan isn’t working as designed. you must be on birth control—which is both irritating yet complimentary to him. of course you wouldn’t let these bums knock you up. is it insulting that this applies to his seed too? of course, but then again the whole dynamic was rather insulting wasn’t it? fucking other men and crying to him about it when they aren’t the perfect man for you. no shit—no man will ever know you like he does. none of them could ever compete with the life he could give you if you would just face the music. he doesn’t get it either. why bother? why look elsewhere? obviously you’re attracted to each other—so why won’t you make the next natural jump and stop it with the drama-packed weekly bachelorette episodes?

that’s okay. it’s really fine. satoru is such a good friend that he’ll help you, like he always does. he would simply help you to the conclusion that he wants and then everything can proceed according to plan! it shouldn’t be too difficult anyway, you’ll be calling any moment now! you had a date with yet another sure disappointment that gojo knows will desert you as soon as the date is finished. he’ll be dry and boring after the promising conversations you had in the days leading up to the date—you’ll be confused yet again—and the guy won’t pay either, set for split-bill city. gojo knows all of this because he’s ensured that’s what happens, of course! and this is the thirty-sixth man he’s had to pay off to show up to the date and forget about you. a price he’s more than willing to pay no matter how high, though it’s definitely added up over the years. and you know what—now that he thinks of it, none of them deserve you because their weak nature and corrupt morals. he’s been proven right every time, each one of these bottom feeders would take the money no questions asked—maybe that was due to his threats of horrific death if they so much as answered a text message from you again, but who could be sure?

this one was especially easy to pay off, too. he didn’t even think twice about taking the money. it almost makes gojo mad. he clearly wasn’t heartbroken to walk away from you, and god you deserved so much better. you deserve a man that is willing to pay off any and every suitor that comes into your life just to make you his. you deserve a man so crazy about you he can hardly recognize himself. you deserve…well, him. he’s devoted himself to you for over a decade and it’s time for that to pay off.

your unique ringtone gets him out of his own head to answer, and of course, you’re crying and asking him to come over. pretty girls like you never learn, huh? that’s all forgiven though, as he is a teacher and it’s his passion to help you understand.

“of course sugar. i’ll be right over. mhm–don’t mention it. that’s what friends are for.” he hums to you over his end of the phone, picking up his car keys to make it to you in record time. you’re your same beautiful self as you answer the door and welcome him inside, though he can see the tear tracks staining your face. it makes him pout a little at the sight no matter how used to it he is. he hates that you let these cretins upset you like this.

“hey baby.” he pouts sympathetically with you, ducking under your arm to gaze around your familiar living room for any signs of a man he hadn’t yet heard about. he exhales a deep sigh when he finds none. he’s got his hands in his pockets, lips tightened in a knowing grimace. “so what was it this time? no—let me guess: split the bill and then he let you walk home in this weather?”

you close the door after he’s entered with a heavy sigh. your bleary eyes fix on your hand still clasped around the doorknob, “yeah.” you tug your lip between your teeth and turn to face him. you didn’t have to answer him, for he already knew. it was borderline routine at this point and you were already embarrassed enough. you draw your arms around yourself to feel your own warmth, shaking your head. what was wrong with you? you used to be pined after, wanted—and now you couldn’t even get non-sorcerers to call you back. you haven’t had a second date in years, nor had an orgasm that wasn’t satoru’s handiwork. but even he didn’t want you permanently. you were a good friend and an even better fuck, that’s all. you knew it was pointless to yearn for him, sure he felt nothing other than his ever-present sense of duty and loyalty every-time he took your pain away–no matter the lies that poured out of his saccharine lips to do so. your sad eyes fix on his face, letting your plump bottom lip bounce out from your teeth’s trap. he smirks softly, cock rising because it knows exactly what that look means.

but unfortunately for you, he won’t just hold you in his arms and promise that you’re worth so much more than you let yourself believe. tonight, he’s going to take what’s rightfully his—and his plan is already working beautifully. you never look away as you walk from the door to him, bracing your tiny and ineffectual hands on his chest. “what’s wrong with me, sato?” you pout, batting your long lashes up at him. his heart could stop just from that look alone. the comfort of his large hands covering yours soothes you already, making the tension drop from your shoulders.

“you’re naive.” he answers, eyes as bright as ever as they glow like fireflies in your living room. if you were going just by the expression on his face, you’d think he said something kind or even funny, the way he grins softly and blinks his white lashes down at you in wait of your reply. you’re sure you misheard—every other time you asked this question he always said, “maybe you’re just too pretty, huh? ever thought of that, sugarplum?”

“huh?” you tilt your head to one side, watching his expression shift to amusement. “naive? wh-what do you mean by that?”

“well, if you weren’t so naive, you’d know, now wouldn’t you?” he pokes his tongue between his teeth, tucking his hands behind his back while you still lean helplessly against him. he likes feeling the weight of your body on his, and he’ll like it even more when he knows it’s a permanent thing. “you’re on birth control.” he states, and your confusion sets in even deeper. your brows furrow, but you nod.

“yeah? what about that makes me naive?” you posit, used to his antics for the most part. you’ve been around him far too long to mistake his bluntness as an attack to you, even if it stings just a touch. though you did ask, and you have used him as your sexual relief and shoulder to cry on for years now. maybe he’s fed up with lying to save your feelings.

he looks around for a second, humming. “where is it?”

you also know better than to question him. if he’s asking you these questions it has to be for a reason—and you don’t have to understand him in the moment. just do what you’ve always done and trust him, support him on and off the battlefield–and never hesitate. it could be the difference between life and death. you learned that on missions together years ago.

“in my nightstand?” you tilt your head to the other side. he has to admit your astonishment is adorable. he smiles down at you, cupping your cheek lightly. his fingers are so long that his thumb rests on the corner of your lips, fingertips brushing back your hair.

“go get it for me.” he says as if he asked you to pass him the remote. you narrow your eyes to really study him—and then you see it. the teeming rage, the simmering crazy behind his eyes as they look at you. he is the most powerful man in the world, even if you were scared, there was nothing you could do but obey. but you trust him. and you nod. you turn to pad off to your bedroom and the clicks of his expensive boots follow. you’re used to the butterflies tickling your stomach as you lead him to bed, but you know something’s different this time. you feel like you’ll puke butterflies. but nonetheless, you pull the drawer of your nightstand open and fetch the little foil pack out of it, only a few pills missing from this month’s prescription. you turn to face him with it, mind racing on what he could possibly be doing. knowing him, he’s toying with you–trying to make you as nervous as possible and all this worrying is for no good reason.

he sits at the edge of your bed, seemingly watching you with interest. he’s happy that you’re humoring him, that’s for sure. not even the faintest hint of protest. maybe you’re not as naive as he thought. in fact, your effortless obedience has his the crotch of his loose hakama’s tightening quickly. your heart jumps in your throat at the sight of him as it usually does—satoru gojo is far too beautiful to be in your house, supposedly telling you why you couldn’t keep a man. the black compression shirt was nearly criminal when it was wrapped around his perfect body.

“good girl. now flush ‘em down the toilet for me.” he beams, blinding white teeth baring to smile at you. it was a simple request, really. he needed you to stop taking that poison and to stop entertaining the idea of other men.

“why?” you swallow harshly, voicing your underlying suspicion.

“don’t you trust me, baby?” he replies with a quickness, tilting his head to mirror yours. he’s doing well to keep himself together–you don’t understand his love for you yet, but he’ll take care of that. he’s a teacher, remember? “that stuff’s not good for you.”

you hum. the side effects have been brutal, but you’re hardly in the spot for a baby. you can’t even get a boyfriend, much less a baby daddy. “yeah…i know. sucks taking it. guess i could get an iud or something instead.” you think aloud, voice becoming distant as you turn your back to him and dump your pills in the bathroom attached to your small room. you really undersell yourself. you could have been his bride eight years or so ago and been living large. but he’s going to fix it now. his jaw clenches at that declaration, and you feel him watching you the entire time—the doorway a straight shot from the spot he sat in on your bed.

“no.” he says simply, the lightheartedness gone abruptly. it sends a shiver down your spine, makes your brain alert to the changes within him as he stands and cages you into the bathroom, broad arms stretching to block off the doorway.

no? he doesn’t want you to protect yourself in any way? that seems a little ridiculous, but maybe he had a good reason. “satoru…i can’t get pregnant right now.”

“why not?” he asks, looking over your little body nearly trembling from the darkness of his cursed energy growing more oppressive, nearly sucking the air out of the room. your heart pounds, more confused than you were at the start.

“because i’m…single?” you try carefully, not sure exactly what you were dealing with here. satoru has always been so happy-go-lucky, even when he shouldn’t be. you remember begging him to talk out his stress so that he didn’t explode right after suguru left. so this anger you see set in his features shocks you, his bright and clear sky-colored eyes are clouded and murky, more cerulean than you’ve seen before. his brow is set and you can see the muscles twitching in his jaw. but he’s still smiling, and that for whatever reason is still real.

“there’s that naivety again, princess.” he licks his teeth, shifting his weight from foot to foot. you look like a deer in the headlights, and he’s giddy at the rush that gives him. you’re finally in his grasp. “you’ve never been single. not since hmmm let’s see, march fifteenth, 2006.” he grins at you–”which makes all this dating real offensive, sweetheart.”

you want to laugh, but decide against it considering his unpredictability. you shake your head instead, backing yourself to the wall. “what on earth are you talking about? we’re friends–”

“friends that fuck!” he laughs a strained snicker, straightening his posture. “and make sweet hot love, of course. friends that cuddle on the couch and have sleepovers. come on. we’re both adults, don’t insult me. you love me! which is great, because i love you too. i love you so much i’ve made sure that no one could steal you from me.”

your brows must reach your hairline at that. “stop, satoru. don’t say that! you can’t mean it–fuck, you’re supposed to be married to a kamo or zen’in girl so you can keep making powerful gojo’s right? isn’t that what you always said in school?”

“you’d give me powerful gojo’s.” he smirks, breaking the barrier of the bathroom’s threshold by stepping closer to you, leaning down to be on face level. “i was only trying to make you jealous sugar! just like this whole stunt you’ve been pullin’, dating around to try to find someone that makes you feel like i do? tch, hahahaha—it’s impossible!! just stop it, be mine and be happy like you should be.” he grasps your chin with a surprising gentleness given his unhinged and maniacal laughter, smiling down at you with something you recognize as his power-trip going off the rails—but.

but you’d be lying if you said you were scared. he’s declaring his love for you in the most profound way possible, however crazy it–and he–may be. and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t absolutely see right through you. he has the six eyes after all, you should have known he knew what you were trying to do. you were trying to numb the pain of never being his…but you were actually manufacturing that whole scenario. you’re the only girl he’s ever seen, and it’s clear from the desperation mixed in with the insanity—he needs you.

you reach back and flush the toilet, letting the little white pills circle the bowl and disappear entirely. satoru gojo has always been insane. you’ve seen it firsthand on many missions and battles against curses and sorcerers alike. it just surprised you to see him turn that look upon you–but now you know it was just to get your attention.

though you don’t doubt what he’s capable of, you have no intention of pushing him to find out.

his eyes go from crazy to ravenous in seconds. you’ve accepted his proposal with hardly any effort and he intends to show you the difference between his sweet hookups and his passionate need to claim the woman of his dreams.

“so you…scared off all those guys?” you ask, raising a brow as your face still rests in his clutches. he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, nodding vigorously.

“sure did, princess. i was trying to let you figure it out on your own…” he sighs, brushing your hair back behind your ears as his eyes scan over your body again. he needs to feel you. “but you’re not a quick learner, hence why i’m on plan b.” he winks, scooping you over his shoulder moments later. he puts you on your bed, the short walk made shorter by his teleportation. he’s just too impatient, brain swelling with the flashing images of you in traditional wedding attire and round with his heir. it all feels within reach now, and he has to try it out now. “gonna show you how bad i love you–you’ll never go anywhere else.” he mutters, lanky frame swallowing up your body, hips pinning yours to the bed beneath you. “you’re gonna give me a gojo and you’re gonna look so fucking good doing it.” he mutters, lips attaching to your neck reminiscent of the way they have a million times. though this time, there’s intention behind it—or well. this time you’re aware of the intention behind it.

in all your times together, his dirty talk has been contained to praising your body and how good you feel to him. his incantations to knock you up has your heart beating funny and wetness pooling between your legs. you make a soft gasp sound for him, elongating your neck to let him leave real marks of possession where you’ve previously resisted. your body writhes and twists under his as his teeth knick and nip bruises into your skin. he’d spell his own name with them if he could, even a ring and a baby wasn’t enough in his eyes. he needs the world to know you’re his, that you’ll always be by his side, that you were born to be his.

“that pesky birth control’s gonna have to wear off though–so we have time to get married before you get pregnant–if that matters to you.” he moans at the idea, hands sliding under your top to push it over your head. his mouth moves to suck the swells of your tits once they’re exposed to him, humming out his satisfaction at the warm skin. your head digs back into the mattress—mind absolutely drunk on his affection and devotion. it’s all you’ve ever wanted and now it’s right here, and from the man you’ve always wished you could have—how could you ever deny him again?

your hands pull at the fabric on his back, hips bucking up for a source of friction. he breaks away from marking up your chest to bare his to you, throwing his t-shirt into some corner of your room to be forgotten about until tomorrow. this wouldn’t be your room much longer anyway–you’ll be moved into the estate within the next two days, he wouldn’t be able to live without you now. then he’s pushing you up towards the headboard, ripping off your lounge shorts to reveal those cute panties he knows you wear when you’re trying to impress him. color him fucking thrilled at your puffy pussy lips indenting the fabric around them, making him groan at the sight. he thumbs at your clit through the cotton, sparkling eyes flickering between the growing wet spot in your panties and the adorable scrunches of your nose and the pinch of your brow from the pleasure he’s dishing out before he’s even really touching you. you’re so cute he can’t pace himself, needing to consecrate your importance to him in the best way he knows how.

you help him get you out of your underwear, shamelessly spreading for him after hundreds of rendezvous—you’ve lost your shyness and he loves it, loves seeing your neediness for him in the glaze of your pretty doe eyes and the way you swing your hips around to beg for his attention. “tell me you love me.” he hums, nosing apart your pussy lips. his cock throbs at the scent, and you feel goosebumps break out across your skin at his command.

“you’re the one for me, sato. i love you.” you whisper so intimately he can feels his cursed energy pulsing like the rest of him. he groans, submerging his face in your cunt with a genuine pleasure you’ve only seen from him. he loves eating you out, loves the taste of you on his tongue—loves how your noises only rile him into fucking the bed, whining and grunting with his own neediness that he could only unleash once he’s properly readied you for it.

“you taste so fucking good baby…so sweet down my throat. get loud, i don’t care it’s an apartment. you’ll be moving out soon anyway.” he smirks, latching onto your clit to make your legs jolt like they always do. it makes him giggle every time, and the vibrations feel even better against your sensitive bundle. he rolls it around his tongue, letting his index finger explore the wetness he’s helping you create. he pokes into your entrance, knowing how violently you craved something inside. his thoughts are confirmed by the way you clench around the digit, whining and bucking into it for more. he’s more than happy to oblige, finger fucking you with two long and thick fingers while his tongue works overtime on your clit. he loves watching you at this part, enamored by your face as your hips involuntarily jump from the bed, smacking your clit into his nose instead of his skilled tongue.

your entire body is warm, jerking like you’re receiving electrical shocks from the pleasure satoru reigns down, gasping and sputtering on the edge of orgasm just a few minutes after he started. it’s always like this with him–though this time was special because you knew your life was changing before your very eyes—that satoru’s energy was growing so rapidly because he’s letting go of all kinds of stress and pent up frustration and anger. “please—wanna cum please sato–”

“daddy. i’m daddy now. ask daddy nicely.” he chuckles as he leans his head against his free hand, curling his fingers into the spot he knows so well just to watch your mouth drop and eyes widen in absolute blissful shock. you nod–brain fuzzy from his constant teasing and his new nickname.

“daddy!! yes—daddy! please, oh my god—daddy let me cum!” you sound so good when you say it–it’s all he ever wants to hear for the rest of his life. he can’t wait for you to make him a real daddy.

“oh missus gojo can do anything she wants.” he coos as if he didn’t make you expressly beg for permission, lowering his face to your cunt again with precise licks, shoving your hood back to absolutely abuse your sensitivity. your legs develop a mind of their own and you’re spiraling over the edge before you can understand what he’s doing. floating balls of color cover your vision and you scream his name just as loud as he wanted. he grins in satisfaction, hands resting on your knees so he can push himself forward for a sloppy kiss; slick covered lips sliding against yours so you could taste your own essence via his tongue shoving its way in your mouth with a hearty moan. you match his eagerness, making out with satoru with more passion than ever before–because you both have the security of knowing it’s real this time. he maneuvers his hips until his leaky tip catches on your hole, his breath shaky as before he shoves in like he always does. you squeeze him so tight it’s not hard to believe why he lost his fucking mind over this pussy. he truly would do anything to make you his, thank god you didn’t put up a fight.

“fuuuuck–” he whines a little, finding it nearly impossible to even move in the first place. you feel the burn of his fat and lengthy shaft parting your walls like they routinely do, mouth dropped wide open in pleasure. satoru hovers inches away from your face, so close that the ends of his hair tickle your forehead as he picks your legs up—holding you by the back of the ankles before he sets a brutal pace. his nuts clap into your ass from the way he moves, length curving just right to fill you to the brim. he doesn’t even have to try all that hard to bottom out against your cervix, finding the way you moan and twitch so adorable. “this is why you have to be my wife—i need you for life, sweetheart.”

your eyes widen at that declaration–though you already realized that satoru would never let you out of his clutches again. you knew he would marry you as quickly as possible based off of his desire to also knock you up as quickly as possible—but hearing him call you that, first missus gojo and now his wife, it all felt so real. his cock slamming into you only drilled it in further, his eyes glowing brighter than you’ve ever seen. the air also grows its own electric field, suffocating and thrilling all at the same time. your eyes are glued to him, entranced by the feral look on his face. you try to hold onto him, but he’s moving so punishingly you can’t even get your hands to work, mind and body on cloud nine. “you’re so beautiful. i’ve been in love…with—you–for years now.” he says in between deep breaths, trying to contain all his focus into drilling you unconscious.

you shudder, feeling that was completely in the realm of possibility. his balls ache, the need to breed you just as heavy as all the other times you’ve come to him to clean up every mess of yours ever since he’s known you, the need to make you his in a way no one else would be allowed to—it’s carnal. he can’t stop until you’re full of his seed and it takes. he needs to see your breasts heavy with milk to feed his baby from. he needs to see you struggle with the weight of your belly so he can urge you to rest and let him serve you like you should be. he needs to see what the combination of your love looks like; what these last ten years of hard work would become. he’s painting your insides white and still pumping just as fast as before, watching your face tick and jerk with the pleasure you’re experiencing as you tip off of your own peak. he grins, shoving that cum as deep as it will go. he stops when he knows your body can’t take anymore, cuddling you to his chest until you fall asleep safe and sound. he has the whole world in his hands, and that’s never been enough. now he can sleep with a genuine smile on his face. he knows your body will regulate in a few months off the birth control—but that doesn’t mean he can’t get plenty of practice until then. after all, he has a problem! he has to breed his pretty little girl best friend turned future wife.

#kishibyesredditcollab #dark content #x female reader #gojo x reader #kyleewritesjjk #jjk x reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut

3K notes · View notes

inuyashaluver · 5 months

Note

can you do one where reader has bad anxiety/panic attack and lessi comforts her? love you!!

i need alessia - alessia russo

alessia russo x reader

description: in which some talk with your national teammates has you spiralling, when you have a panic attack, all you can ask for is alessia

warnings: way more suggestive than i intended lmao, mentions of a panic attack

a/n: hiya lovely, thanks for the request!! love you, enjoyyyy❤️ LOVE YOU

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, alessia got called up for the world cup squad 5 minutes apart. you were both so excited for each other, honestly focusing on one another rather than yourselves.

you were both sitting in your shared living room, your legs resting on hers as you sat in complete silence. you were gripping alessia’s arm, gently running your nails up and down it in attempts to calm her down. alessia knew you were calming yourself down as well as her, she rests her head on yours, the both of you talking about random topics, both of your minds elsewhere. your phones sat next to each other on the coffee table in front of you.

every couple of seconds, you would lean closer to alessia, honestly sitting on top of her at this point but she didn’t mind, she loved this side of you. she could tell you were growing angsty, you kept sighing and gently squeezing her arm. “do you want me to distract you, baby?” she says with a cheeky smile, you smirk at her, “and how will you do that, lessi baby?” you mock

she grabs the back of your head and an arm on your waist, gently lowering you down on the couch and hovering over you. she looks at you suggestively, dipping her head to place a trail of kisses on the column of your throat. she moves painfully slow, grinning into her kisses when you squirm under her, placing your hands under her shirt and grazing the skin of her back with your fingertips.

she gently sucks a hickey on your pulse point and squeezes your hip when you whine in her ear. she moves away from your neck, smiling softly at your flustered face, you couldn’t take it anymore and pull her down to kiss you. she immediately places a hand on your cheek and slips her tongue into your mouth, she places her hand under your shirt, her hand inching closer to your chest but halts when her phone rings. you perk up and quickly push her off you, “answer! answer!” you exclaim, lightly slapping her thigh, she grabs your hand and answers the phone.

“hello?” she breathes out, “i’m good, how are you?” she replies politely, you were gripping onto her hand tightly, extremely nervous. “oh i just went for a run, sorry i’m a bit puffed out” she laughs, her face going red as she grips your hand tighter. “oh! thank you so much! i’m so excited, okay yeah, i’ll see you soon!” she looks at you with a bright grin, “i’m in, baby” you scream and jump on her, she laughs brightly when you whisper words of praise in her ear, hugging you tighter after each one.

“i’m so proud of you, lessi baby” you move to place a kiss on her lips and she tries to continue what she started before, hands creeping under your shirt again. she whines desperately into your mouth as you take control this time, lightly biting her bottom lip before she takes over again by putting her tongue in your mouth.

you, sitting on her lap instinctively buck your hips, she grins and pulls you closer to her, pulling away slightly, “my pretty girl” she breathes against your lips, grinning when you surge forward again to lock lips. you slot your hands through her hair, lightly tugging the hair at the back of her neck. a groan escapes from the back of her throat, pulling you closer until this time, your phone rings.

she rips her lips away from you and quickly grabs your phone from the coffee table and shoves it in your hands, you grip her shoulder and squeeze her waist with your thighs as you hurriedly answer. “hello?” you say breathlessly, alessia holds your thighs and comfortingly runs her hands over them. “hiya! i went on a run with alessia, haha yeah! gotta stay fit!” you let out an embarrassed laugh, alessia leans forward to place her forehead on your collarbone, catching her breath.

you move to grab the back of her head as you talked on the phone. “oh my goodness! thank you so, so much! yes! i’ll speak to you soon” you throw the phone to the other side of the couch, alessia looking up at you expectantly. “baby” you start, a tear running down your cheek as you nod at her, unable to express the words. alessia quickly hoists you up on her waist, rushing to the bedroom to congratulate you officially, phones staying in the living room.

—

you were all instructed by sarina to meet at the lionesses’ training ground, wanting to start training immediately in preparation for the world cup. alessia was driving you both to the facility.

“you excited, baby?” alessia says, running her thumb over your thigh as you hold her arm, she knows this is a sense of comfort to you. you hum in reply, she knew the real answer and didn’t want to push it, so instead she squeezes your thigh playfully and looks at you when she parks. “get through this today and i’ll give you a treat when we get home” moving to kiss your flustered cheek.

she giggles at you, getting out of the car and grabbing both of your bags, holding out her arm to you, you smile at her appreciatively and take on her offer. “i love you” you say simply, giving her a kiss on her cheek, she coos at you, “aw i love you too, baby” kissing the tip of your nose, “you cutie” she lightly bumps your hip with hers, entering together and getting ready for training.

luckily, your cubbies were right next to each other, so alessia could keep an eye on you. once you were fully dressed into the training kit, you let out a shaky breath, all of it hitting you at once, you were debuting in your first world cup, with your girlfriend. you close your eyes and try to slow down your breathing. you've had panic attacks before, but only when you’re immensely stressed. alessia immediately comes up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist, pulling you to sit down on her lap in her own cubby. you immediately calm down, leaning into your girlfriend's touch. “baby” she starts, placing gentle kisses in between your shoulder blades, “you’re okay, beautiful, i’ve got you” she says this softly in your ear, wanting you to focus on her.

you nod slowly, swallowing hard and grabbing her hand that rested on your waist. “i’m fine” you reassure her, “yeah, you’re fine in many ways” she jokes, you let out a little giggle at your girlfriend’s flirting, moving to sit sidewards on her lap. you wrap your arms around her neck, “thank you, lessi” you whisper, kissing her cheek. “anytime, baby” she whispers back, matching your energy. she lifts you up bridal style, standing up and giving you a quick kiss on your lips and places you on the ground.

—

to start, sarina wanted you guys to do light laps around the field as a warm up. you forced alessia to run with ella, wanting her to enjoy herself with her best friend. she was reluctant at first, but you gave her your best pout and puppy dog eyes and it was all over for her. giving you a loving kiss before parting from you, running in front.

meanwhile, you were running with leah, always looking up to her like a big sister as well as your teammate at arsenal. you were both chatting lightly until beth comes over, clapping you on the shoulder. “my little one! her world cup debut!” she teases, “beffy, i’m taller than you” she shoves you lightly, “don’t try me”. leah encourages you, “i’m so excited to see how amazing you’ll be, and we get to go all the way to australia!” leah slings an arm over your shoulder, walking now, “and you get to do it with your girlfriend!” she teases.

beth nods enthusiastically, “representing your country overseas is so sick (y/n/n), you should be so proud of yourself.” you let out a slightly pained smile, you knew they meant well and you’re grateful for their kind words but you were starting to freak out a little. your breathing starts to quicken and tears begin to roll down your cheeks. leah loosened her grip on you and stops you and beth completely.

“(y/n)?” she asks worriedly, your tears fall frantically, beth grabs your hand, “hey, are you okay?” you shake your head frantically and start to hyperventilate.

leah hurriedly makes you sit on the ground, “what do you need, love” leah’s heart was beating so fast, she’s never seen you like this.

you were crying, hard at this point. “i-” you choke out, “deep breaths, (y/n)” beth instructs, the two girls kneeling in front of you and shielding you from the others. “alessia-” you breathe out, “i need alessia” you let out a sob, covering your face with your hands. leah looks at beth and she sprints to get your girlfriend, alessia sprinting faster than she ever has to sit behind you and pull you to her front. leah moves back a little, keeping an eye on you from afar.

“baby” she breaths out, you immediately lean into her, breathing heavily and crying - calming down but still in a panic. “my love, you’re having a panic attack” she informs, speaking directly in your ear, you gives you a loving kiss on your cheek, grabbing both of your hands and squeezing them gently. “like we practised, okay?” you nod gently, squeezing her hands in response. “five things you can see, baby” you open your eyes, “uh- your hands… and leah and beth… and your legs” you breathe out, “good girl, baby, two more” she encourages, “the grass…-and your tattoo” you’ve started to calm down even more.

“well done baby!” she praises, giving you another kiss on your cheek. you lean into her further, she moves to rest her cheek against yours, you nuzzle into her slightly. “now give me three things you can hear, baby” , pulling you impossibly closer to her. “your heartbeat, uh birds and your breathing” she smiles at you, “good girl! follow my breathing” you match your girlfriend’s steady breathing as she litters your cheek with numerous pecks, you let out a small giggle, calming down immediately after hearing your girlfriend’s melodious giggle.

“there she is, my girl” you unwrap your arms from her and turn your body around, asking your girlfriend to sit cross-legged and taking a seat in her lap. “i’m so sorry, alessia” she frowns up at you, grabbing your face with her hands. “you have nothing to be sorry about, my love” you pull her into a tight hug, she rubs comforting circles on her back. “i love you” she whispers, “i love you more” you whisper back. you stand and pull her up, assuring the rest of the girls that you were fine. leah runs up to you to pull you into a tight hug.

you let out a laugh when she scolds you, asking you why you didn’t tell her to shut up. you hug her tightly to reassure her, a group hug occurring quickly.

—

you were lined up in the tunnel, standing in front of alessia, ready for your debut. she had her arms wrapped around you, swaying you gently side to side, kissing your cheek repeatedly.

you turn around in her hold, resting your chin on her chest and looking up at her, pursing your lips for a kiss, she happily obliged, giving you a loving kiss.

she quickly grabs your face between her hands and looks into your eyes, “you go out there, do your best, okay?” you nod at her determinedly, “you go out there and be my star girl” grinning at her cheekily. she smiles and gives you another quick kiss, flipping you around and giving your shoulders a quick squeeze.

you both walk out and do exactly that, alessia getting a goal from your assist. she runs up to you and hoists you up on her waist in celebration, giving you a quick kiss. you were both so proud of each other, you’d always be there for one another, no matter what.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

pretend it’s you, mwah (ily georgia!!!)

liked by leahwilliamsonn and 44,242 others

alessiarusso99: i’m proud of you in ways you can’t even imagine @/yourname, world cup debut!

view all comments

yourname: i’m so proud of my lessi baby

↳ alessiarusso99: you’re so cute

↳ yourname: no you!

↳ alessiarusso99: no you!

leahwilliamsonn: my superstars

↳ yourname: mother’s here!

↳ alessiarusso99: milf

↳ yourname: BIG milf

↳ leahwilliamsonn: stop.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader

561 notes · View notes

bichachonacho · 1 year

Text

I just had to write something for Aemond — I couldn’t help it. I’m wholeheartedly an Aemond apologist 😭

When we were young - pt.1

part 2 ‘All grown up’

Anerya Targaryen is Rhaenyra’s second born, a child sweet and kind— she makes the mistake of falling in love with her uncle Aemond, a boy who couldn’t stand to be anywhere near her.

warnings : angst, abuse, mild cursing, enemies to lovers.

authors note: this is going to be a series and there will be a time jump but they’re children in this chapter <3

—

She sees him from across the room, biting anxiously at her nails as she contemplates walking over to where he and his brother stood. Aegon was busily talking Aemond’s ear off, unamused— Aemond stands beside him with a look of boredom clear on his face. Considering they grew up together and spent almost every second day around one another, she still felt anxiety build inside of her as she thought of approaching him.

“You’re not going to make any progress with the prince if you continue to stare at him idly” Her handmaiden Evelyn mutters to her, elbowing her gently in the side. Evelyn wasn’t much older than Anerya, still in her adolescence— Evelyn was chosen by Rhaenyra herself. Anerya’s mother claiming it would be better if she had a handmaiden her own age to assist her with her needs, rather than an older lady.

“I’m not staring idly, I’m observing everybody” She lies, dropping her hand from her mouth to give her bad habit a rest.

“Everybody just happens to be in Prince Aemond’s direction” Evelyn scoffs, amused at the younger girl’s behaviour. Aneyra was a child no older than twelve, already overcome with her strong feelings toward the prince. Although Evelyn didn’t approve of how she was treated by him, she supported her regardless.

“Talk to him. I’ll busy myself elsewhere” Evelyn reassures her before sauntering off without another word, her action causing Anerya to huff in annoyance. She decided not to waste anymore time and approach her two uncles, her breathing uneven as she grew more anxious with every step.

She stands there wordlessly for a few moments, thinking over what to say as she fiddles mindlessly with the sleeves of her dress. Aegon is the first to notice her, a chuckle leaving his lips as he nudges Aemond. Aemond reluctantly turns to face her, wearing an irritated expression which causes Anerya to shift in discomfort.

“Evening my prince, I was hoping to talk with you for a few moments” She says, her voice trembling slightly.

“What for?” Prince Aemond’s reply is blunt.

“It’s just— we haven’t shared a conversation much over the last few days” She says, her reason sounding more ridiculous out loud than it was in her head.

She swears she sees Aemond mutter a snide comment to Aegon, judging from the way he lets out an ugly laugh after Aemond turns his head slightly toward him. She swallows her embarrassment and continues to stand there waiting.

“Have you started reading the book I gifted you?” She questions him, changing the subject and continuing the conversation that was clearly one sided.

“I read the first few pages and stopped because it bore me to tears” He huffs, causing her to let out a false chuckle. She hides the fact that the book she gave him was her favourite and tries not to show she was hurt from his comment.

“I suppose it is quite boring” She agrees with him despite her own judgement. Silence fills the air, an awkward atmosphere surrounding them as she thinks of more things to talk about. Before she can even open her mouth, the Queen calls for her two sons and rips the opportunity away from her.

Aegon barely spares her a second glance as he walks off, muttering don’t follow us pup as he approaches his mother. Aemond just nods briefly at Anerya before sauntering off, following closely behind his older brother. She finally exhales, feeling her nerves settle once she is left alone again.

She decides to put her attempts aside and move to comfort her cousins who were sitting glumly on a bench to the side. They had just lost their mother, she should’ve been more concerned about their well-being rather than gaining Aemond’s attention. So she did just that, spending the rest of the evening talking to Baela and Rhaena, distracting both her and their minds from everything surrounding them.

—

She hears of the incident between her brother Lucerys and Aemond hours after the commotion had occurred. Fast asleep in her bed, she missed the heated family meeting to settle the debate. From what she hears from Evelyn, she’s grateful she was not present.

She was conflicted, she will always support her brother— that is without question, he was her only younger sibling. They were practically joint at the hip when he was born and there was no one more ecstatic about his birth than she was. Many joked that he was her shadow that followed her with every step she took.

So why was part of her longing to hear Aemond’s side of the story. She had heard of his eye being severely damaged during the fight due to Luke, but as her brother claims— it was self defence. Aneyra decided to take matters into her own hands and find out for herself.

The morning after, she left her bed chamber with gifts in her hands to give to the prince. She wanted to visit him, show she was sorrowful about his injury and then give him a chance to explain what happened. Before she could even approach his door, Ser Cole and another guard stops her.

“The Prince is not taking any visitors” Ser Cole states, blocking the door with his frame.

“I won’t take up too much of his time” She argues, hoping they would cave and let her through. To no avail, they send her away— promising to give her gifts to Prince Aemond on her behalf.

A week passes and she hasn’t heard a word or caught a glimpse of Aemond. She visits everyday, hoping he’d have a change of heart upon hearing her desperation to see him— but she’s met with the same response each day.

She wonders how bad the damage is to his eye, judging from what she’s heard the kitchen maids and handmaidens whisper to each other, it’s quite bad. One evening Aneyra was moving through the halls on her own after supper, eyebrows furrowing when she overhears two kitchen maids scurrying past her.

“His eye is truly frightening. He’ll never marry with that”

Anerya knew that their words meant nothing, he was a fine prince— bound to be betrothed one day, secretly hoping and praying it would be to her. She knew it doesn’t matter if he was scarred, she would love him regardless.

It’s weeks after her last interaction with him before she finally sees Aemond again. Catching her completely off guard, she spots him in the garden late at night, staring up at the leaves on one of the many trees. He obviously snuck out of his bedchamber somehow seeing as he was completely alone, most of the staff already retired to their bedrooms. Anerya couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning in bed she decided to leave for some fresh air.

“I’m glad to see you’re better, my prince” She hums, approaching him quietly as she stands closer behind him. He doesn’t turn around to face her after hearing her speak, his gaze still focused on the tree as he replies.

“Hardly. I’m scarred for eternity— thanks to your brother” He states, tone bitter. She bites the inside of her cheek before moving even closer to him, her hand hesitating to grasp his. She decides against it and just stands beside him. He shifts away from her, avoiding her gaze upon his face, afraid that if he turned slightly she would see his scar.

“I’m sure Luke is deeply sorry. He’s just a child, Aemond. He was scared” She defends her brother, her words causing Aemond to scoff.

“Your words offend me. We’re both children, but I’m a monster now because of him” Aemond mutters, causing a lump to grow in her throat she thinks of other ways to comfort him.

“I’m sorry for my offensive words, I just wish you would find it in your heart to sympathise with him” When he doesn’t respond, she takes it upon herself to grasp his chin— gently pulling his face toward her. A bold move she must admit.

“You’re not a monster to me” She hums, fingers moving to gently caress the skin around his eye. There was a deep scar that ran along the centre of where his eye used to be, the skin still inflamed and slightly irritated— even after having weeks to heal. He narrows his eye at her before harshly pulling her hand away from his face, a look of disgust on his.

“You have no right to touch me” He grunts out in anger before he pushes her up against the tree. The harsh surface causes her to wince in pain as it grates against her back, the pressure of Aemond’s weight causing her to struggle as she tries to push him off of her.

His forearm is pressed up against the nape of her neck, the rest of his body holding her against him as he uses his freehand to pull a blade from his pocket. It was small, barely big enough to be considered a kitchen knife, but the edge was sharp— Anerya could see for herself how dangerous it was.

“No— please, Aemond. Stop it, you’re scaring me” She cries out, struggling to get away from him.

“Since your mother refused to give up your brother’s eye, I shall scar you instead” There’s no emotion behind his eye as he speaks, a sight that causes Anerya to shed tears as she failed to push him off.

She shuts her eyes tightly, the sensation of the blade cutting into her cheek causing her to go numb as Aemond’s hand moves to grasp her jaw. She can barely process the pain as the blade’s tip travels from her upper cheekbone to the corner of her mouth. She feels the blood trail down her face, aswell as her salty tears that burn her now open wound.

She finally manages to push Aemond off of her, crying out in pain as she stumbles away from him— her hand grasping her face as she looks at him with fear in her eyes. As he gazed at her, she barely noticed that he no longer had the dark look in his eye as he did moments ago. He looked almost remorseful. She blinks away her tears before turning on her heel and hastily moving to find Evelyn.

—

“I look hideous. I’m not attending” Aneyra sighs heavily, fingers grazing the now healed but obvious scar on her cheek. It was bold, causing the corner of her mouth to appear slightly uneven every time she smiles. She hated it, the stares she’s received from some of the other handmaidens has been unbearable— she can’t possibly face her whole family at the feast tonight.

“You must attend, Anerya. You’re to leave for Dragonstone in the morning, this will be your last family gathering for god knows how long” Evelyn sighs heavily, her fingers massaging Anerya’s scalp before braiding some of the strands. Evelyn’s right, the controversy about the rightful heir has already caused a rift in the Targaryen family— no one could predict how long the family would be separated for.

“I’m terrified of what people will think and having to face him” Anerya exhales heavily, a shudder running through her body at the thought of seeing the boy who did this to her.

Her beloved Aemond who tarnished everything she thought about him in mere moments.

“Endure it in silence, do not even look in that wretched boy’s direction. He is the spawn of satan himself for doing this to you” She tuts as she eyes out the scar on my face through the mirror.

Aneyra does her best to follow Evelyn’s advice, keeping her head down and chewing on her food quietly while everyone around her chatters idly to one another. She could feel Aemond’s gaze on her, afraid to even look him in the eye, she avoids even lifting her head.

“You’ve barely touched your food” Jace hums, elbowing me gently in the side. She mutters to him that she has no appetite, grateful that he doesn’t press her further about it.

She spent most of her night praying internally that no one would mention the scar on her cheek, she had been absent for just over two weeks— afraid to leave her bedchambers, so it would be resonable for them to question her injury.

Her family knew of her scar, believing that she was sparring with a young boy in a sword fight when he accidentally cut her cheek. Her mother demanded for the boy to be found and punished but Anerya lied about him already fleeing Kingslanding on a boat. Just like she lied about who actually gave her the scar.

“You’ll never marry with that. No one would want you” Aegon snickers from across the table, a grin clear on his face as he eyes out her scar. She tenses up but doesn’t bother looking up at him, seeing it more would only give him more insults to throw.

Her face warms, from the embarrassment she feels from his teasing and the fact the room felt overwhelmingly hot. She huffs before excusing herself from the table, quietly leaving the room and hoping no one would notice. Relief washes over her as she feels the cold breeze brush against her skin.

Her hands loosen their grip on her sleeves as she slowly walks along the hallway, no longer feeling tense. She admires the view from this high— the city almost looking angelic if it weren’t for the harsh reality of what it truly was. Despite that, Anerya was full of sorrow at the thought of leaving this place, the only home she’s ever known.

“You’re leaving tomorrow” She hears Aemond speak behind her, the softest she’s ever heard his voice. Usually his tone was harsh and blunt, uncaring of whether or not she was offended by his attitude.

“Are you sad to go?” He questions when she doesn’t reply nor turn to face him. He approaches her close enough to be a few inches behind her.

She continues her silence, eyes focused on the top of the roofs in the far distance— eyeing the flames that burn and light the streets. It was a beautiful distraction.

“Your prince demands you to speak” He says, his tone harsher. She feels him stand beside her and she tenses up, deciding to finally respond.

“I apologise, Prince Aemond. I am sad to go” She mutters, her voice so faint she questioned whether he could even hear her. It goes silent, the air stiff between them and for once it was Aemond’s mind racing in search of finding something to talk about.

“At least no one knows you in Dragonstone— you could’ve been born with the scar for all they know” Aemond says, his comment sounding more like teasing than reassurance.

“How can you jest when you’ve done so much damage already?” She questions him, her tone harsh— catching him completely off guard. He’s never heard her speak in any other way to him.

“I’m an embarrassment, my friends don’t want to be seen with me— I’m stared at in every hallway I walk through. I won’t marry with this, no one will want to wed me” She doesn’t know where this was coming from, she usually lets her anger settle inside of her.

“If I can be wed one day with this— you will too. You needn’t worry” Aemond hums, indicating to his wounded eye.

“We’re not the same. You’re a prince, second heir to the throne— you will marry regardless. I cannot. I’m hideous now because of it… because of you”

He wants to comfort her, reassure her that she wasn’t hideous— that the scar didn’t take away from her beauty and that he still admired her. That he was sorry for what he did and regrets it wholeheartedly. But the words don’t leave his mouth and he stares at her in silence, blinking at the girl who’s on the verge of crying.

“I apologise for any offence I’ve brought you during my time here. I realise now how overbearing I could be” She changes the subject, no longer staring out but at her hands instead.

“I was trying to pursue a friendship— hoping and praying for love. One day marriage if I was lucky enough” She admits, causing Aemond’s face to warm slightly. He knew she had liked him, that was more than obvious— but hearing she wished to one day marry him made his heart pound.

“But I put those childish wishes and dreams to rest now that I am leaving Kingslanding. I do not intend to return” She says in finalisation. He wants to respond but yet again his words fail him.

“All the best, Prince Aemond” She bids her final goodbye before pushing past him, continuing to make her way back to her bedroom with her head down.

Aemond watches her as she leaves, heart still pounding in his chest and head full of a mixture of emotions. He wondered if he’d ever see her again, silently praying she would one day return to him. The girl he once wished would leave him alone for good is the same girl he wanted to beg to stay.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen angst #aemond x reader #prince aemond #hotd #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x original character #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x y/n

1K notes · View notes

sssammich · 2 months

Text

collateral pt2

author's note: this is a continuation of the 'captive prompt' fic snippet. this story has now taken a life of its own but i'm not sure what the direction is until we get there. consider it a slow burn, angst with a happy ending, with an introduction of a rarepair. endgame supercorp...eventually.

thanks for reading. send me prompts

part 1

Kara heard the starting swell of the music from the live band, the notes from the trumpet flowing out onto where she found herself now: a restricted garden area of the estate, muted slightly with the now closed door behind her. She rushed to the metal railing overlooking the gardens and gripped the top of it, fruitlessly shaking it in her grasp if only to release some of the stifled restlessness inside of her.

As the music continued playing, Kara knew this as the moment that Lena danced with Jack for the first time as husband and wife. How they swayed together in the middle of the dance floor, her floor-length dress swishing from side to side. Her hand on his shoulder, his hand on her waist. The two of them looking into each other’s eyes and smiled. They were a perfect snapshot of a happy, perfect couple on their happy, perfect day.

It was a scene that she didn’t have the strength to witness for herself. She was sure the inevitable wedding photos and videos would remind her, but she’d rather not hurt herself any more than she absolutely had to.

She hastily wiped the tears from her face, shutting her eyes closed to stop the tears from descending down her face and dropping onto her bridesmaid’s dress. She took a deep breath through her nose before exhaling out of her mouth. God, how she wished she had another drink before escaping. Or a smoke. Lena smoked when she was nervous or stressed. She’d even taken a drag just before she walked down the aisle. Kara should have pocketed it or something for this very occasion.

She knew she would need to go back in there soon, but the allure of leaving entirely and starting fresh elsewhere just to give her heart a fighting chance felt more and more appealing by the second.

“If you glare at that poor rosebush any longer, it might just catch on fire.”

Startled by the sound, Kara jumped slightly back from where she stood, her hip hitting the railing as her teary vision found Andrea, one of Lena’s longtime friends from their boarding school days if she recalled correctly, standing there with an arm across her chest while the other rested on it as she held a lit cigarette between two long fingers.

“I wasn’t g-glaring.” She shut her mouth, mad at herself for stuttering. “What are you doing here?”

Andrea tilted her head and held out the hand holding her burning cigarette. What else, she gestured.

She watched the red embers from the tip of the cigarette. Then, “Do you have another one?”

That seemed to earn her a curious arched brow, but Kara only shrugged. Seemingly satisfied, or perhaps not simply not caring, Andrea opened her other hand to reveal the pack of cigarettes and her small gold lighter.

“Not what I would have expected from you, Pulitzer.”

“My name’s not Pulitzer,” she said, her tone defensive even as she took a cigarette and carefully rolled it between her fingers. “And you don’t know me.”

“No, can’t say that I do.”

Andrea deftly opened her lighter with a flick, the golden flame lit up between them as Kara, novice that she was, tried to light her cigarette. Kara placed the butt of the cigarette between her lips and puckered before she inhaled and let the smoke fill her lungs as best she could. Inevitably, unsurprisingly, that one pull was enough for her to cough and barely cover her mouth as she turned away to clear her airways of smoke.

“Did know that, though.”

She wanted to glare away the smirk on the woman’s face. Determined, she took another hit and let the warmth take over, if only to focus her mind. She turned her head and exhaled away the smoke from the corner of her mouth before quickly doing it again.

“You know you can’t get drunk smoking cigarettes.”

She huffed, the smoke coming out through her nostrils as she made a face at the other woman.

Andrea only smiled before she put her hand up, thumb over the pack of cigarettes and lighter to hold them in place, as a show of surrender. “Relax. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”

Then, as if demonstrating, Andrea brought her own cigarette to her mouth, the light colored filter sat against the rouge of her lips and inhaled. She stared expectantly at Kara as the smoke settled momentarily in her lungs before eventually the smoke wisps came through the side of her mouth.

Kara watched her, fascinated, even as she let her own cigarette continue to burn unsmoked between her fingers. They stood there in silence with one another, Kara slowing herself down with each drag, the smoke a putrid smell to her senses but it was something to focus on. She looked at the wall straight ahead of her, every now and again glancing at her unexpected companion. Woven between the wisps of smoke between them was what she could only assume was Andrea’s perfume. Something surprisingly fresh, floral. Not something Kara would have guessed for the other woman. Kara might have considered something warmer, darker.

“So which one?” Andrea asked aloud, breaking the silence between them, just as she finished her cigarette, dropping it by her feet so she could squash it with her shoe.

Kara scrunched her face. “Which one what?”

“Which one are you in love with?”

“I—” Her brows jumped to her hairline in surprise before her jaw dropped as she tried to find her voice.

“Lena, right?”

“I’m not—”

Andrea shook her head even as she waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not judging. It doesn’t matter, either way. But it’s her, isn’t it?”

Kara’s face scrunched as she thought about her options. She could lie. She’d been doing it for years, after all. But she was tired. And, at this point, it might do her some good to be honest even if it was just with one other person.

She looked away before nodding her head, ashamed of herself. Yet the confession lifted something up inside of her; she felt lighter, even just for a moment.

Andrea hummed as she wrapped her arms around herself. “There are worse people to pick, if it’s any consolation.”

Kara scoffed. “It’s not. But thanks.”

Andrea then gripped the remainder of Kara’s cigarette and plucked it out of her hand.

“Hey!”

“I won’t be responsible for your nicotine addiction. Let’s go back inside. If you really want to nurse a broken heart, that’s what the open bar is for.”

Kara watched as Andrea snuffed out her cigarette with the same shoe she used earlier and clutched at Kara’s now free hand, dragging her back through the doors. She could protest—should, really—but instead, powerless and resigned, she let herself be pulled back into the fray unaware of how she gripped the other woman’s hand tightly in hers like a lifeline.

When Kara reentered the grand hall, she winced at the cacophony of sounds and smells and sights. She winced slightly, adjusting her glasses with her free hand when she realized that her other hand was still firmly held in Andrea’s. She should let go, and eventually, she did. But if she let her joined hands linger for just a beat longer, Andrea said nothing about it.

She stepped forward and turned her body slightly towards the other woman. “Thanks. For earlier. And if you could—”

“I won’t tell. Don’t worry.”

She nodded, but then paused. “Why not?”

“What do you mean? Did you want me to?”

“No! I mean—I just don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me right now.”

“Would you rather I kick a girl while she’s down?”

She pouted. “Is this just pity?”

“Ah, querida, you’ll know if it’s pity.”

“Then what is this? What are you doing?”

Andrea eyed her intently, then made a point to scan the room until she found what she was looking for. Curiously, Kara followed her gaze and it landed on the wedded couple talking to some random group of grandparents several tables away.

“Helping. I’m helping.”

She was just about to ask why when they heard the clink of the utensils against glass, urging for the newlywed to kiss.

Kara watched helplessly as Jack dipped Lena and kissed her, the grand hall filled with cheers and applause. When she turned to Andrea, the other woman had already been staring at her, as if to answer her unspoken question: that’s why.

“Come on. You need liquor.”

#samfic: collateral #that's the title #make of that what you will #will eventually string these snippets together and form a proper chapter for ao3 #in the meantime pls enjoy or not? or whatever make your choices #samfic #supercorp #superrojas

82 notes · View notes

mistystepmoonbeam · 1 month

Text

Reborn into BG3 - Chapter 5

You're reborn into BG3 with only the memory of your past life. Now you're Tav's companion on his journey, and must learn about yourself as much as your new reality.

Chapter 5: You awake to something unexpected in your tent, and Karlach joins the group!

Word count: 1.3K

You awake holding your pillow rather than resting your head on it. The early morning light is soft within the confines of your tent, world tinted blue due to the thin nature of the fabric used to protect you. You yawn and roll onto your back—if you hadn’t been so tired last night you might have noticed how horrendously uncomfortable the ground was compared to a bed. You noticed it now, even with the bedroll.

Outside your tent is quiet, perhaps too early for the others to wake. You’d heard them return late last night if only by Karlach’s laughter and Tav shushing her, but still laughing himself. You hug the pillow to your chest and roll onto your other side to come face to face with a snout and protruding tusks. You yelp and skuttle backwards, pillow held out before you as your only means of protection against the…boar? A young boar, by the size of it, not quite a babe but not an adult either. Still, from snout to tail it is nearly the length of your bedroll. And there, right in its thick neck, are two little holes.

It’s dead. Completely drained of blood.

Why in all the gods' names was the boar—the boar that Astarion kills—in your tent?!

Theories race through your mind:

Astarion didn’t quite kill the boar and it wandered into your tent to die.

Astarion brought it to your tent and killed it, because he secretly hates eating alone.

Astarion killed it elsewhere and planted it here to make it look like you killed it.

Astarion has nothing to do with this and you’re actually a vampire.

You press your thumbs against your canines, finding them as they always were—not elongated or extra pointy like Astarion’s.

“What’s wrong?” The flaps of your tent fly open as a dishevelled Tav jumps inside. His eyes go over the area, taking in the boar and then you touching your teeth. You quickly lower your hands.

“Please tell me this is a really unfunny prank,” you beg Tav. He moves around you and squats by the boar, observing it closely.

The flaps of your tent fly open again and you’re met with possibly the loudest woman you’ve ever met.

“Hey! I told you it’s rude to just enter someone’s space without knocking.” Karlach looks down at you, towering over you as you stay in the ground. “Oh hells. Now I’ve done it! Sorry. I’m Karlach, joined up with your little crew last night. I was gonna say hi but Gale insisted you needed your rest.”

You give her your name, raising your injured hand to wave. It’s still a little tight when you flex your fingers, but there’s no pain.

More uninvited guests arrive when Shadowheart and Astarion each lift a flap of your tent. If it were possible you think Astarion pales even more at the sight of the boar.

“What’s going on?” Shadowheart questions.

“I’ve heard of being hungry enough to eat a horse but…” Astarion recovers quickly.

“I didn’t eat it,” you deny. You look back at the beast. “Or kill it. I woke up and it was here.”

“These holes are strange.” Tav takes everyone’s attention but his next question is directed at you. “Do you know what could make them?”

You stutter words but can’t bring yourself to say “vampire”.

“It looks like the work of a vampire,” Astarion announces, coming to your rescue. “Vicious creatures. We should have someone keeping watch at night—I’ll take tonight so no need to worry.”

Tav nods but his curiosity doesn’t seem sated as he observes the boar.

“But why is it here?” you ask.

“Looks like it walked in,” Karlach says. She points to small indents in the fabric on the ground, places where a heavy weight sunk into the earth, exactly like hoof marks would. They travel around your bedroll and out of the tent. “There’s a few more outside. Poor little guy…must have been looking for help.”

Your racing heart begins to calm. Based on the initial surprise on Astarion’s face Karlach was right, but still. You look at the dead creature, wondering if it really had just walked into your tent on its own.

Your hand is healed enough that you only need a small wrapping around your palm to keep it safe. Wyll had done it for you, securing the white cloth with ease.

“Can’t believe you would take an arrow for a goblin,” Karlach says as she watches. “Between you and Wyll here we aren’t short on heroes.”

“Not a hero,” you tell her.

“That’s exactly what a hero says,” Karlach counters. She’s just doing this to distract you from waking to a boar, you think. But it’s working. As the group discusses their plans for the day the fact that the boar wandered into your tent seems more and more plausible.

“You should come with me to see Dammon!” Karlach suggests. They’d already explained Karlach’s situation to you, fake paladins and all. “Could use the moral support if I’m being honest.”

“Of course.” You wanted to check on Arka, too. You’d never been able to save her in the game, but maybe you could now. There was never a definitive answer about her death, but if there was a chance you could stop it…

“Great! Then it’s you and me while these guys have all the fun.”

You look at Tav, who’s talking with Shadowheart. “What are you guys doing today?”

“Tracking down Halsin.” Shadowheart eyes the bandage on your hand. “Are you sure you should be going back to the grove after saving someone that tried to kill them all?”

“Aw,” you hum, “are you worried about me Shadowheart? That’s so cute.”

The half-elf’s eyes widen as her cheeks darken with a blush. “Just don’t go taking another arrow for a prisoner.”

You grin at her attitude, and the way she won’t meet your eyes now.

“I won’t,” you promise. “Unless it’s for Astarion, we made a deal.”

After Dammon gives Karlach a tune up she’s ready to fight anything. You thought she was going to run off to find the rest of the group if you hadn’t suggested checking around the grove for spies.

Obviously you weren’t about to send her into the underground where the goblins (maybe) lay in wait, but she could probably handle a bugbear by herself.

And she does, easily. You’re not even halfway up the hill to get to Nadira before Karlach is pulling her axe from its holster and swinging at the bugbear assassin. It takes a couple hits before going down, dead at the feet of a proud one-horned tiefling.

Even without Tav some things can be triggered, it seems. It’s more than a little concerning.

When Karlach is handed the soul coin as thanks you can feel a vibration in the air around it. The thought of your own soul trapped in a coin makes you shiver.

As you start back down the hill you catch the faintest hint of sulphur. Your head swivels as you look around, half expecting Raphael to appear but it’s only you and Karlach.

“Something wrong?” she asks when you stop.

Another glance at the grass and flowers around you shows no sign of the devil. “No, I just thought I heard something.”

That sounds better than “thought I smelled something”. There was already plenty to smell within the grove, plenty you’d like to not smell between the oxen and the bears.

But your anxiety didn’t leave until you mentioned to a couple of the druids you saw a tiefling boy heading to the beach beyond the grove and thought you heard singing. They’d exchanged a worried glance before waving over two tiefling guards and heading off.

“You’re worried about singing?” Karlach asks on your way out.

You think carefully before answering. “Yeah. Just…a bad feeling I guess.”

As you leave the grove you see Arka standing above the gate, crossbow in hand. That was something you’d worry about later. There was still time, after all. And you’d have a better idea of how much time after Tav returned tonight.

Taglist:

@half-poison-and-half-hope @sanscas @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @thequeen-oni @terrenuserinj @straewberrysoda @theomnipotentfox @becksynthetic @quitecontrary-to-mary @furblrwurblr @mega-trash-cringe @fandomsbookclub @dontneedbiologytoadopt

#reborn into baldur's gate 3 with no memory and plenty of money #reborn into bg3 #reader insert #gender neutral reader #astarion x reader #gale x reader #gale dekarios x reader

95 notes · View notes

milarqui · 1 year

Text

Scarlet Lady: Origins (Part 1)

Directory

That blasted girl! she thought. She had been the queen of this class of pathetic, poor peasants for years, and Dupain-Cheng, who was the worst of the lot, had somehow got a spine to replace the baguette she once had!

Baguette, ha! I kill myself.

Maybe that new girl, Cesar or whatever, had something to do with it, but she needed to make sure Dupain-Cheng got the message that no one got away with messing with Chloé Bourgeois, the Princess of Paris!

“I’ve got to get back at that upstart Marinette and Alya for talking back to me,” she muttered, and she looked towards the girl, who was distracted doing whatever homework she had missed, the clumsy idiot. And she also saw her bag - seriously, what a horrible thing, not even a Dior! - unattended to a side.

Struck by a brilliant idea, she carefully walked towards the bag and put her hand inside. Maybe she could find something she could use to put her down, back into her place. Her fingertips touched something wooden and polished, and when she grabbed it and pulled out, she saw that it was an eight-sided box that looked really old and expensive.

Hahahaha! This is probably an old family heirloom! she thought, crowing to herself with an evil smile. She’ll be totally freaked when she can’t find it! Perfect!

As she left back for her seat, Marinette remained completely oblivious to what just happened.

And would remain so for months.

----

Perhaps, if she had known what that act of thievery would bring her, Chloé Bourgeois might not have carried it out.

Perhaps.

But Chloé Bourgeois was never one to think on the long-term consequences of her actions.

----

Back home from that peasants’ building known as Collège Françoise Dupont, Chloé sat on her bed and picked the box she had purloined - not robbed, robbing is something those who are pathetic do! - and admired its colors.

“A pity that this was wasted in that family of boulangers,” she said. “Let’s see what kind of treasure I won. Hee hee!”

And she opened the box.

----

Within the box, the kwami known as Tikki had been waiting for this moment for quite some time. Master Fu had shown her how her future holder, Marinette, looked and acted like, and she knew it would be a wonderful partnership. With Nooroo and the Butterfly Miraculous in the hands of someone who would use it for evil, someone needed to act - and who better than the girl that showed strength of character and compassion in every act?

The box opened. This was her moment!

“Hello, Marinette!” she said, smiling. “Please, don’t be afraid, everything’s--!”

The light that usually covered this kind of thing vanished... and she saw that the person in front of her was clearly not Marinette. Blonde, long hair in a ponytail, rather than black and held in pigtails. Blue, cruel eyes instead of innocent blue. Features of Caucasian ascendancy instead of Chinese.

Conclusion: Master Fu had made a mistake.

“WHO ARE YOU?!” Tikki screamed, trying to make a sense of what had happened.

“THAT’S MY LINE!!!” the girl screamed even louder.

----

Elsewhere in Paris, a boy by the name of Adrien Agreste had discovered a similar box, containing a ring and the kwami known as Plagg. After the terrible day he had had, with his attempt to finally go to school thwarted by Nathalie and his bodyguard, he had listened to the cat-like creature and jumped into the chance to become something he had always wanted to be.

A Superhero.

“THIS IS GONNA BE AWESOME!!!”

----

He would regret those words soon enough.

----

Chloé couldn’t make heads or tails of what this little bug was telling her.

Going out there to fight some monster that had suddenly shown up?

"You’re the only one who can stop the Akuma!” the bug said.

As in, doing something sweaty?

“You use Lucky Charm to save the day?”

Helping other people? Her mere presence was enough to do that! She didn’t need to do like Majestia and waste her precious time in making people think they had any value beyond doing what she wanted.

“You have a partner?!”

And not even a way to claim the credit! No, she had to share it with some no-name peasant, and she couldn’t tell anyone she was the one that had saved their lives! No, she had to hide herself for whatever dumb, irrelevant reason the bug had mentioned, something about someone wanting to rob the earrings she had purloined from Dupain-Cheng.

But the bug was persistent. It kept pestering her until she agreed to it.

Well, maybe she could actually do something and bask in the love of the masses.

----

At the Dupain-Cheng’s house, Marinette thought she had earned a prize for finally telling Chloé off for being a jerk, so she had made herself some popcorn and gone to watch TV, where the usual programming had been replaced by a live newscast.

Un Super-Vilain Á Paris?

A giant creature, who for some reason the newscast had identified as Stoneheart, had shown up in the middle of the city, and was causing quite a lot of chaos.

“Stoneheart is moving toward the Montparnasse Tower!” Nadja Chamack reported, clearly shaken by the current events, as the titan punched a car and sent it flying several meters away.

“Sucks,” Marinette said, munching on her popcorn. Not like there was much she could do. If she were part of something like United Heroez, she would probably jump into action, but she was a civilian, so--

“The monster... seems to be unstoppable!”

And, as Stoneheart kept ambling towards its target, at the down left corner of the screen, Marinette saw something.

Or, rather, someone.

“ALYA!!! What are you doing?!”

----

How does Lois Lane always look so perfect when she does this?! Alya Césaire thought, panting as she pedaled behind Stoneheart. This could be the start of her journalist career!

----

“I’m starting to get the hang of this,” Adrien - no, Chat Noir, that was his superhero name - said, following the trail Stoneheart was leaving behind.

“aaaaaaaaAAAAAHHHHH!”

Pain.

Before he could react, someone had crashed on him, and now the two of them were tangled in some sort of thin rope and hanging upside down. And, as he recovered his sight, he was met with someone wearing a domino mask, similar to his, but red with black polka dots.

This had to be the partner Plagg had mentioned! Well, maybe he could break the ice and begin with a good joke.

“Well, nice of you to drop in!”

“Omigod, no.”

Seriously? Not even a smile?

Tough crowd.

The girl in red pulled on something, and the rope around them suddenly became untangled, causing them both to fall to the ground.

“Say, what’s your name, partner?”

“Why should I tell you?” she replied, with a tone that reminded him too much of his father talking down to someone else - usually him.

“I’m Chat Noir! Nice to meet you!” A loud noise reminded him that Stoneheart was still loose, and he swung back in action. “Come on! Stoneheart seems to be going for the Parc des Princes!”

“Stone-who?” he thinks he hears her say, but it might have just been his imagination. He didn’t pay it any mind.

It was time to be a hero!

----

Sabine Dupain-Cheng looked in shock as her darling daughter nearly crashed down the stairs and towards the door, a look of dread in her face.

“Marinette, where are you going? Lunch is almost over.”

“Out because my new best friend is INSANE!!!”

The bell clinked as Marinette opened the door, picked her bike and started to pedal westward.

“What’s going on here?” she wondered. Well, she would certainly learn about it later.

----

Chat Noir charged towards Stoneheart, his new staff - he could make it grow like Goku did, which was amazing - in hand, and attacked the creature, distracting it from the guy it was trying to attack.

BANG! the staff sounded as it hit Stoneheart’s head.

And then Stoneheart grew in size.

“Oh shit, he’s bigger!” he said, dodging an attack. “Where are you, partner?”

Looking around, he saw his partner standing at the top of the stadium.

“Ah, there!” Good, she could jump in and help him stop Stone- wait, was that a compact mirror?

She was preening in front of a mirror while he was here, risking his life?

“HEY!!!” he shouted, dodging another attack.

----

It looked like that mangy cat had everything well in hand, so she didn’t need to do anything at all! Whew! She could just stand here and let him do all the work, that was what peasants were for, after all.

“What are you waiting for, Super Red Bug?” a voice said from below, and Chloé Bourgeois turned to see the new girl down below, a cellphone in her hands.

“Ugh, you again.”

“The world is watching you!” Césaire said, gleaming and smiling.

“The world is watching...?”

Oh my god, this was perfect! She could jump in, easily put a stop to the monster and bang! Instantly famous! The adoration of all Paris was at hand!

She closed her new compact mirror and grinned.

----

Chat Noir was starting to feel that maaaaaaybe he was a bit over his head. Nothing he could do to Stoneheart could stop him, and it was a hard task to just keep dodging everything. And, of course, his partner refused to do anything.

Stoneheart had grabbed one of the goals with its gigantic left hand, and was clumsily attempting to swing it at him, but fortunately his years of fencing had given him the reflexes to avoid such a large object, and the suit was actually making him faster and stronger!

But then Stoneheart tossed the goal - and it was clear the target was not him, but a red-haired, dark-skinned girl that seemed to have followed them into the stadium.

Oh, no!! he thought, and he turned about to attempt to stop the large object from hitting the girl.

“ALYA!”

Before he could act, someone else, a girl with black bluish hair in a pair of cute pigtails, tackled the red-haired girl out of the way.

“You came!” the red-haired girl - Alya - said.

“Yeah, but why did you?!” the new girl replied.

Whew, crisis solved. Now, he had to find out how to stop Stoneheart, quickly, before it could cause further disruption.

“Cat boy!” the pigtailed girl said, and he felt her hand on his shoulder.

“It’s Chat Noir, actually!” he replied, turning to look at her - and wow, she was quite cute and blushing.

“He doesn’t open his fist!”

“Good note, thanks! Maybe you should be a hero!”

Anyone could be better than his "partner". Not that that was a high bar to surpass.

“Priorities!” the girl said.

----

Chloé could only see red. That blasted cat had said that Dupain-Cheng should be a hero? Ha! As if!

She jumped and kicked Stone-whatever in the head, sending it tumbling away as she turned to the cat and her classmate.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” she shouted.

“Wow, wow, calm down! Maybe we need to use our powers to stop him? Cataclysm! My power destroys anything,” the cat said, his right hand covered in some sort of icky black thing.

“How barbaric. And useless. Like you.”

“Did I look cool?”

The cat thought he was cool? She wanted to laugh.

“Absolutely not.”

The cat grabbed the large net thing that had fallen nearby with his right hand, and suddenly the white on the stick became black, and in seconds the entire thing had disintegrated into dust.

She was sickened to have to admit it, but that trick left her hair standing.

“Jesus...”

“So, what about yours?” the cat challenged her.

You’re going to swallow those words, you mangy cat!

“Lucky Charm!” she declaimed. After a flash of pink, she felt something heavy in her hands, that seemed to be made of rubber and looked a lot like this unfashionable costume she was wearing. “Oh, ha ha, Tikki.”

“So, how useful is your power?” he taunted her, and she angrily threw the thing at him.

“Why not ask your other partner?!”

“You just don’t want to work,” he muttered. Well, of course she didn’t! Work was something someone as important as her shouldn’t be bothered with!

You’ll come crawling back to me once you see how useless Clumsinette is, she thought, grinning at the idea of her rival doing anything useful at all.

“Cat boy, run interference!”

“it’s Chat Noir!”

“Alya, the tap!”

“You got it!”

What.

----

Chat Noir followed the black-haired girl’s instructions. The moment he had given her the polka-dotted red wetsuit, she had immediately come up with a plan. It was a bit risky, particularly since he would have to let himself get captured, but something told him he could trust her.

His trust was rewarded. The girl had managed to trick Stoneheart into grabbing her and the wetsuit, dropping a purple rock from its closed right fist, and then Alya had opened the hose tap, filling the wetsuit to grow and forcing Stoneheart’s fist open. The girl had quickly jumped out, ran for the rock and stomped on it, letting out a black butterfly and a crumpled piece of paper.

And Stoneheart transformed back into a large boy that looked to be his age.

The girl picked up the note and ran for the large boy, shouting what he presumed was his name, as his ring began to beep.

“What’s the noise mean?”

“Dunno, I didn’t read the manual,” he said. Maybe he should have waited for Plagg to explain everything before transforming?

----

“Kim wrote it. He’s always making fun of me,” Ivan confessed to his classmate.

“Pa, don't worry about him. He cried when we saw The Little Mermaid when we were 10.”

He chuckled.

----

Chloé grabbed the rubber thing - now empty of water - and attempted to rip it, but it only stretched without giving in.

No one’s paying attention to me!

How could this be? She was Chloé Bourgeois! The Princess of Paris! Everyone’s eyes should be on her! All the boys should be in love with her! Everyone should worship her! But here they were, paying attention to a mangy cat and Bruel who got his dumb arse turned into a monster, instead of her!

Oh, wait. Tikki had said something about this, right? That she could fix stuff broken by the monsters with this Lucky Charm thing?

“Hey, reporter girl! Catch this! MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”

The Lucky Charm transformed into a cloud of ladybugs that flew around everything Bruel had destroyed as Stone-whatever. In moments everything was back to its normal state - still below the quality she demanded of everything, of course.

“Whoa!!” Césaire said, and she rushed towards her, cellphone in hand. “Incredible! You can fix everything?! Hey, what do we call you, Wonderbug?!”

Now, that was closer to what she expected. Still not enough simpering, but closer.

“Well, obviously not that. Let’s see...”

----

Chat Noir was tired. Fighting Stoneheart had taken out a lot off him. And he realized that maybe the beeping was some kind of count down.

And then he heard his ‘partner’ proclaim to have saved the day ‘in spite of her clumsy partner’s inability to do anything right’.

“You... you didn’t do anything,” he muttered, astonished of her credit stealing. But then the beeping became more insistent and he left: he had to return home before someone noticed he wasn’t in his room.

Somehow, the beginning of being a hero had become nothing like he had thought it would be.

----

Fu sipped on his favorite tea, relaxing after a long day. Wayzz had reported that the negative energy of the Butterfly had vanished, which meant that young Marinette and young Adrien had managed to stop Stoneheart and captured the corrupted butterfly transforming him. Good. Ah, if only he were a few decades younger! He would have been able to go out there and guide the two young heroes in the matters of the Miraculous.

Wayzz clicked on the remote to turn on the TV and see if the news were mentioning anything about the attack.

“... our new hero, Scarlet Lady...”

He turned to look at the screen, only to notice something strange, because the girl wearing the Ladybug Miraculous didn’t resemble his Chosen wielder at all-

“... thanks to amateur footage by local student, Alya Césaire...”

-and then the screen showed Marinette and a red-haired girl he supposed was this Alya Césaire, smiling at the camera.

“Wait...” Wayzz said. The problem was clear: if Marinette was there in her civilian clothes, who was wearing the Ladybug Miraculous?

He barely noticed as his teacup crashed into the floor.

----

“So... her name is Scarlet Lady...”

Plagg was a bit disturbed by his bearer’s angry face. What in the holy name of Camembert had happened to leave him like he had gone a few rounds with trying to swallow some mushrooms?

“I’ll call her Scar for the scars she leaves on my life.”

Uh-oh.

----

Tikki enjoyed the cookies Chloé had offered her.

But she still wondered why she was here, instead of with Marinette.

And she remembered there was something she hadn’t explained.

“Did you catch the akuma?”

Chloé gave her what she supposed was what humans called the ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ look.

“Huh?”

Uh-oh.

----

Origins (Part 2)

@zoe-oneesama Hope you liked this.

#scarlet lady #fanfiction #milarqui #origins #long post #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #scarlet lady the novel

570 notes · View notes

socksracoon10 · 2 months

Text

Waiting For Nothing

Pairing: Legolas Greenleaf x F!Reader A/N: I haven't written for LOTR for a while, so I thought I'd make ya'll sad with this angsty Legolas fic. Have fun! The hearts of the warriors are often small; they've grown accustomed to fighting and death. And in each battle they fight, a layer of their heart sheds off. It falls to the ground, and rejoins the earthly soil to be reborn in another's. The scars remain, but the feelings behind the memories will slowly fade, until there is nothing more than the shell of a man who attained glory with his rotting heart a testament to the last sliver of hope that echoed in the beating of his heart.

Your heart was rather large. Having lived most of your life as the poor peasant girl with no relatives by blood, Edoras welcomed you into open arms. You were friends with almost everyone, especially with Théoden's niece, Éowyn, who quickly became your best friend - Théoden even considered you his niece as well because of how close you two were. The two of you would go riding on horses, galloping around in joy as you remained oblivious to the impending doom that would soon terrorize the entirety of Rohan in just a matter of a few days.

"I can hardly see why you roam this castle so willingly when we know your place is outside in a small hut…" Grima Wormtongue spat when you had walked past him. You glanced at him over your shoulder, your lips sharply turning into a scowl. The audacity of that vile creature to even speak in your direction. You huffed out in annoyance, biting the inside of your cheek as you chose your next words, carefully.

"Bold words coming from a creature that is more disheveled than an Orc," You snickered before haughtily marching off.

Within hours, you were kicked out of the palace and exiled from Rohan. You were back to being an orphan, right where you had started. Éowyn had looked at you with such pain in her eyes but she knew that if she were to act out against this cruel decree, she would face a similar fate and nothing could be done to save the Kingdom she so dearly loved.

Living in the outskirts was not as easy as you had initially thought it to be. In your mind, you had foolishly assured yourself that since you had been in this condition before everything would come naturally. It wasn't until the first hour passed did you sorely miss the place you once called home. With nowhere to go, you wandered around aimlessly, circling the borders of Edoras repeatedly to keep your mind occupied. By the 5th day, you swore you were dying due to starvation and thirst. You could barely move, your body lay stricken on a rock as you gasped for air. Your head tilted slightly to your right, the pain in your stomach blooming to elsewhere in your body and from afar, you noticed three horses charging towards you. You couldn't even sit up properly to examine the incoming invaders, and you weakly lifted your hand, silently begging for help.

The three horses revealed their masters on top of them, a tall dark haired man, another being that resembled a wizard and on top of the third horse was a dwarf, and in front of him the most beautiful elf you had ever seen. You had heard stories of elves before in your life, ones that were told by Éowyn, but never once did you think one would be standing right before you. If you were to die in this exact moment, you would've been very pleased that you at last saw an elf.

The man jumped off his horse and crouched down to your level, feeling your forehead before turning to the elf,

"Legolas, fetch her some of your Lembas bread, and you Gimli give her your water." The man instructed; not knowing whose name belonged to which creature, you looked between the four beings with curiosity, despite being so near to death's door. The elf crouched down besides you, allowing you to drink some water before chewing on his bread. Your hunger knew no bounds and you chewed and chewed, swallowing whole lumps of bread as you slowly began to regain some of your health. The man sighed in contentment, giving you a soft smile before standing up to walk towards the Wizard. The elf, on the other hand, stared at you with a gentle smile on his face and kept offering you food until you said no.

"What's your name?" The man asked,

"My name is (Y/N) (L/N)," You whispered, taking another sip of water. You coughed a few times, swallowing thickly before meeting his gaze.

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gandalf the White, that is Gimli, son of Gloin and over to your left is Legolas of the Woodland Realms." Aragorn exclaimed, gesturing towards the elf beside you. You glanced back to face the elf, a small smile forming on your face. After acquainting yourself with the 4 beings, they heard your pitiful tale and realized that Rohan deeply needed imminent change. They allowed you to accompany them, seating yourself behind Aragorn as the horses charged forward.

Your eyes, however, remained glued onto the elf. You noticed his soft features, the way the wind seemed to swirl around him and only him, and his piercing eyes that scoured the land before him with diligence. His silence captivated you, and you did not know why.

With Grima Wormtongue out of the way, and your adoptive uncle restored to his glory, it seemed that you were finally welcome in the castle. Éowyn had rushed forward, capturing you into a warm embrace before kissing your forehead. She grinned at you, holding onto your arms ecstatically as she danced to and fro, dragging you deeper into the throne room. As she tugged at your hands, you glanced to your right to find the elf conversing with the dwarf, the both of them walking in the opposite direction with concern glazing their eyes. You wanted to listen, you wanted to be a part of them… but you did not know why. You yearned for the chance to just be alone with him, and whether it was good for Rohan or not, the chance soon came when everyone was ordered to seek shelter at Helm's Deep.

"You're rather quiet," You chirped, catching up to Legolas. The walk to Helm's Deep was excruciating and you feared that the boredom would kill you before starvation or even worse - the Uruk-hais. Legolas smirked, his lips curving ever so slightly upwards before he turned to face you,

"Forgive me. I am not one to converse so easily in such pressing times. Though, of course, must you include Gimli in our conversation, I shall pass a few jokes at his expense." He glanced over his shoulder to face Gimli atop his horse; the dwarf shook his head and grumbled,

"I'd cut yer pointy ears off if ye try to embarrass me in front of this lassie," He scoffed and you let out a laugh, before turning to Legolas,

"Come now, surely you would be able to carry a conversation without teasing the poor dwarf!"

"Perhaps, but I do not know for sure," He sighed, before resuming his silence as he watched the horizons.

Legolas knew. He could sense your attraction towards him, but he chose not to say anything about it. He hoped that it would pass, that you would not be bound at his feet, desperate for his affection. Because it would never work, and he did not have the heart to admit that he did not have any feelings for you. You were trying so hard, trying to spend more time with him. You were trying to distract yourself from the doom that lay ahead of you because everyone knew how big your heart was; all you could ever do was dream.

Éowyn and you had both tried to convince the King to let the two of you fight. There was nothing for you to lose, you both loved your Kingdom, tremendously. But as Aragorn reminded Éowyn of her duty, you turned to face Legolas whose piercing eyes never once left you. His lips formed into a thin line, and he followed Aragorn out of the room, leaving you in your thoughts.

"She's very affectionate towards you," Aragorn pointed out as they were leaving,

"I'm well aware," Legolas responded.

"What do you plan to do about it?" The man questioned.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Legolas, perhaps-"

"Perhaps we do not speak of it." Legolas jeered, his brows furrowing at the rightful heir to Gondor. "We have more pressing matters to deal with, the lives of 100 thousand men are at steak tonight."

"Ignoring her will only heighten her love for you, she will be desperate. She will be fooled into thinking that she has a chance. If you are going to reject her, at least have the courage to tell her directly!"

"That wee lass will be devastated," Gimli chimed in, fixing his helmet, "You sure you don't feel anything?"

"I'm positive, I do not." Legolas grimaced and shoved past his two friends to grab his arrows. The incoming surge of Uruk-hais was his primary concern, but the guilt he felt as he killed one after the other tormented him. With each arrow he shot, he felt his burden increase tenfold. Aragorn and Gimli were right, but why could he not bring himself to tell you the truth? To tell you that he had no feelings for you?

Because… then he would be lying. He watched you from afar at times, watched the way you'd dance with Éomer, your arm wrapped around his as you skipped around. You'd stand beside Théoden to catch a breath, your eyes searching for Legolas and when they landed on him, he'd instantly look away - as if he wasn't staring at you. As if he wasn't infatuated with you the same way you were with him. He was lying to himself, he wanted to break free. He wanted to stand near you, to hear you constantly chittering about something; his heart ached at the sight of you fondly playing with some children. His mind roamed to thoughts that turned into dreams; dreams of you and him together. But this was wrong, all of this was wrong. He would only live a short life with you, and when you died, he would spend the rest of his life in solitude.

He'd seen it with his father. He'd seen the way his mother's death impacted him; he was not a man of many words, but his cold demeanor lingered around Legolas, a constant reminder of the similar fate he'd feel if he decided to indulge in his present feelings. He decided that he had to do something about it, even if he couldn't face it himself.

"Would you like something to eat?" You asked, toying with an apple as Legolas tended to his horse near the campsite. He glanced over his shoulder, looking at you with solemn eyes. You could've sworn a tear drop cascaded down his pale cheeks. He harshly took a deep breath in, and shook his head,

"It is alright, I do not need anything to eat." He responded, his fingers wrapped around the reins of his horse.

"Well, perhaps I could offer you something? It is not material…" You began, stepping forward with hope in your eyes. It pained him, it pained him more than anything else in the world. He could not bring himself to do this, but at the same time, it would be even worse to accept your affections.

"Lady (L/N), please." Legolas exclaimed, finally meeting your eyes, "Do not continue. I… I cannot accept your affection."

You paused in your tracks, looking at him with wide eyes.

"I do not… envision a future of us two living a happy life." He was searching for proper words, his head turning around the room as if he was physically swimming through his thoughts, "I… My heart is heavy, I have never felt this way for anyone. I do not want to be the one to burden your heart, but I am afraid that you must keep those feelings to yourself. There is nothing that I can do. Nothing we can do."

"I… You… You don't even know what I was going to say…" You reasoned, and Legolas let out a huff,

"I do not need to hear you say it, I already know. I've seen the way you look at me, the way you tend to me. I am forever in your debt for your kindness, I thank you for it. But, it cannot continue. Aragorn, Gimli, and I will be leaving tonight." Legolas murmured, tugging on the reins as he drove his horse forward and away from you. Your heart sunk at his words, unsure of what was happening.

This couldn't be happening to you. Not before you even had the chance to tell him how you felt. What if he realized how true your love was for him? What if this was the last time you ever saw him?

"I shall be waiting for you." You stated, swiftly turning on your heels to face his departing form.

"Don't, you'll be waiting for nothing," Legolas whispered, his eyes softening at your words.

"Nothing is… indeed something," You breathed, your fingers linked together as you began to fidget, nervously. "Perhaps, you'll understand. Perhaps you'll… come back."

"Perhaps, but I would not count on it." Legolas sighed, before hopping onto his horse and riding off, leaving you alone for the night.

"I see you've told her how you felt," Aragorn had asked Legolas when they were far from Rohan, "Does it feel as if your heart is lighter now, with nothing to worry about?"

Legolas paused, hearing Gimli grumble a few curses under his breath regarding the elf. He opened his mouth to speak, before closing it. The elf thought deeply, his mind was utterly blank and he hated it.

"I feel…" He began, "I feel as if I've only made it worse. Not just for her, but... for me as well." He swallowed, thickly, before glancing over his shoulder to take one last look at Rohan. The wind was still, there was not much that he could hear.

Except for the beating of a very large heart that painfully yearned for him with each fleeting second.

125 notes · View notes

spaceman-earthgirl · 5 months

Text

@itistakingover and I decided to write another fic together. This idea has been in our heads since last Christmas so we finally decided to write it. Enjoy!

Excerpt:

Beatrice turns another page, eyes on the book but her mind elsewhere. She never used to be like this, she always prided herself on the way she could focus, keep her mind on one task and one task alone.

Yet here she is, sitting in what barely deserves the name living room, trying to read a book that should be able to hold her attention, but failing miserably on the task at hand.

Her mind is on Ava, like it always seems to be recently.

It's not even the fact that she's worried about Ava, or wondering where she is. She knows where she is, she’s gone to have a drink with Hans on their evening off. She knows Ava will call her if she needs her, she knows Ava can handle herself with all the training.

But she’s still thinking about Ava.

She’s thinking about her smile and the way Ava cares so much, about how she makes Beatrice feel safe like no one has before. She’s thinking about how she misses Ava when she goes to bed and Ava is working a late shift, about how excited she gets when Beatrice agrees to something silly like going out for ice cream and how things might be pretty bad right now, but she’s happy she gets to be by Ava’s side.

She hears a loud bang and jumps, hand immediately flying to the knife under the coffee table. She pauses, hand on the hilt, just listening, waiting.

A few moments later she hears another noise, but this time it's a loud grunt. Beatrice frowns, but decides not to grab the knife, leaving it in place. She wonders if she'll regret not picking it up as she stands, still on guard.

She reaches the door, body still ready to attack as she presses slightly up on her toes, looks through the peephole and sees…a lot of green and twigs?

She grips the door handle, wondering if this is a good idea. But if she's going to die, she'd rather it be this way, in some small town in the middle of nowhere, than by Adriel’s hand.

Beatrice opens the door and she shouldn't even be surprised but she is, because there's Ava, balancing a huge tree in the hallway, her small frame dwarfed by its size.

Or she assumes it’s Ava. It’s hard to see anything past the giant tree that is taking up most of the doorframe, with just a pair of arms visible around its middle.

“Ava..?”

Ava shuffles herself and the tree around so Beatrice can see her properly. “Oh, hey Bea,” Ava says casually, like it’s completely normal to be holding a tree in the hallway on a random Tuesday evening.

#warrior nun #avatrice #sister beatrice #ava silva #avatrice fanfic

89 notes · View notes

qvrcll · 8 months

Text

college melodrama — V.

summary: ellie survives with a bruised lip and a throbbing pain that keeps her awake in her own bed. abby is elsewhere and of little care to you — you are beside ellie and nursing her wounds. tender touches lead to tenderer tellings and something worth recalling, perhaps.

warnings: injuries mentioned, food / medicine mentioned, just fluff, some angst but let’s be honest, it will be drowned out by the fluff 🫶🏽

a/n: part five and can i just say… THE POLL RESULTS ARE MAKING ME CREASEEEE. we love to see it! i love ya abby but you went too far… also my old divider stopped working for some odd reason :( + sorry for the slow updates, life has been brutally interruptive. anyhow, hope you enjoy this :-]

You’re tapping your feet anxiously beside the cotton of Ellie’s comforter the next time Dina checks in. Some part of you jumps from the familiar sound of the notification, but you put your good faith in Dina. You’re still shaken from the party’s brutal givings — besides Ellie’s bruised lip and cruddy looking jaw, the fight had taken flame amongst the entire college. From videos to whispers, you can feel the tension tenfold when you enter a room. People are nice enough to ask how Ellie is, but not nice enough to keep their eyes from telling.

You’d left her room when the messages rolled in, so it was safe to say that Ellie couldn’t hear the squelch of your heart playing in your throat right now. She couldn’t hear the deafening plea in your lungs drying the substance there, robbing it of the air that was. But she’s quick to realise, quick to ease you of your worries. You feel stupid, feel bad for even being upset but seeing her this battered and bruised hurt the world beneath your eyelids.

She knows all the right things to say and you’re really too hopeless to stay this way. You realise you’re unknowingly blaming Ellie for what’s transpired and make quick work of assuring her that no, it’s not her. It’s you and your dumb, full, thudding heart that is tipping over depravity. For her. But Ellie’s message makes you stop, makes you think. Makes your fingers shake as she loses her mind over her own recklessness with her feelings.

This is tipping close into uncharted territory. Into something of a ruse or something… warm and blanketed. Into something you’ve both hidden. But you’re not sure and Ellie is second guessing every bit of your letters, words, sentences. She’d rather have a shockwave plummet her to death than to lose you to her feelings. But if you were to be the same, she’d only dare to fall, no?

It’s an easy route to her dorm room. With her injury, prone to Abby, it had been a frequent endeavour and now, you were quite literally soaring through different altitudes. Savouring sweeter tastes. Hoping for something you’re sure you haven’t lost your mind to gain.

“Ellie?” your hand is on the door knob and the creaky, old thing flits back to allow you some space inside.

I’ve done this before, so many times. Why is it so much harder now?

“Y/N?” her voice comes softer, like the feel of peeled tangerines, in the commodity of her humble dorm. As you glance up, she’s standing in her flannel jacket, comfortable and so much like the reason as to why your heart is unrelenting in this very moment. But you can’t do this without surety — can’t do this without reason and lose half your mind with it too.

You step forward. It’s the right thing to do. You convince yourself that much, and whatever truth there is in that, is only helping you steer clear of what’s… meant to be yours, “You feel any better?”

“Y… Yeah. Totally. See,” she points ardently to the flesh that has begin to heal against her lip, “Already good. On the way… to be good, I hope.”

This is endearing, you think.

“And good, you will be, Ellie,” you reply, feet lambent against her floors, as you take her hands in yours in a complete show of camaraderie. But underneath the flesh and bone of it all, there’s something raw and pulsing there. Something alive and aware of consequences. Aware of a few of things. Curious of a lot more.

Curious of her hands.

Curious of her lips.

Curious of the row of hairs above her neck.

And of so, so much more.

“Is there… something else… you wanna say?” she suddenly asks. Rips the breath out of your lungs as her hands work to shield yours in some tight grip. Certainly not camaraderie. It’s something sacred in a nuanced sense; a telling? Or maybe one of her hidden shows of affections? But you need to try. Have to.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“When have I, Ellie, ever been wrong?”

“Dickhead. I won’t tell you now.”

“No, wait, hey! I’m sorry!”

You purse your lips, bite and swallow and throw away the smile that burdens them. But a ghost of it remains anyhow and she’s teeming with hope too, you see now. Something illusive made seen with her curiosity. She’s twice as nervous and holding you tighter and… leaning in.

Fuck.

Your lips meet slower than expected. Your nose budges against her cheek. Her teeth taste like oranges and medicine and raw, hot, scary love. Her hands are in your hair and you push the speed of them to match her—

“Ow. Ouch,” she bites her groans of pain, still holding you close. You shudder, afraid suddenly of the truth that she’s still not fully healed, “My lip… it’s just…”

“I’m so sorry—“

“Don’t be. Please?” she whines and her eyes are pouring into yours and you see her past the line you’ve always drawn between the two of you. It disappears till you can no longer smell it in the air anymore. Nothing to stop you anymore. Nothing to be afraid of anymore.

“Okay. Okay,” you laugh against the flannel of her shirt and she coughs out a laugh, the light in her smile, “but you’re going back to bed! Heal, first. Kiss me later?”

“Mmm. Promise you won’t leave?”

“When have I ever?”

“Right” her spit of auburn hair seeps against her ears and despite your words, her lips cut the skin of your cheek anyways. Light, airy, yet leaving with the air of your lungs. You curse comically as she laughs, exits to her room, and you’re doing your best to follow when suddenly…

You hadn’t blocked her. Everything is redrawn and spilt in red. Anger, confusion and curiosity is alive in you when suddenly you become aware. Aware of your buzzing phone. Aware of the back of Ellie’s figure as she retreats to bed. Aware that whatever has started has yet to be resolved.

THE DECISION IS UP TO YOU: YOUR ACTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES.

[taglist: @theganymedes @nil-eena @ximtiredx @inf3ct3dd @oceanparadox @cjrights @eveshyper @sosobaker @hsangel64 @zombie-catz @twsmalie @badbye666]

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fic #tlou x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #tlou x you #tlou x y/n #ellie williams fanfiction

122 notes · View notes

thatbanditqueen · 8 months

Text

No One Walks Out Ch 6

My boy my boy... it's been a long time, Becky. This is a response to the writing game prompt "You will love it." "I will hate it." "Nah, you won't."

Thanks to @whositmcwhatsit and @be-my-ally and @vintageshanny and @ellie-24 and @missmaywemeetagain and @from-memphis-with-love and @arrolyn1114 and for playing this game and supporting me as I write, thanks too to @ab4eva for just being an all around mensch....

Summary: Elvis calls Becky, or rather, watches as Charlie calls and asks her to come on tour. She doesn't realize this tour is not going well. But once she is there, she decides to just roll up her sleeves and jump right in. Because Elvis.

WC: 7.3K

Warnings: Swearing, implied drug use, oral sex. This could have been very angsty but it is actually a big ball of unpolished, fantastical, indulgent fluff. I wrote this today and didn't have anyone read it. So beyond typos, expect historical inaccuracies and probably mischaracterization of everyone, including my OC.....

If you need to catch up.... Chapter 5: Salty Lips

Chapter 6: Out of the Frying Pan and into the Fire

6 pm Sunday, July 20, 1975

Geiler’s Hardware Store, Jackson, MS

Harriet’s key clicked into the back lock of her parent’s hardware store, and she pulled the handle to double-check that the door was, indeed, locked, before turning to look at her cousin. Becky’s mind was elsewhere and she stared down at her Chuck Taylor sneakers, raising her head only after Harriet coughed, and the two women made their way to Harriet’s small, yellow AMC Pacer. Becky looked out the window, playing with her hair, purposefully avoiding Harriet’s curious stare.

Keep reading

“Earth to Becky, where are you? You haven’t said anything about the date Ida set you up on Thursday.”

Becky pulled on the ring she wore on her right hand, a band of platinum with a diamond flower at the center. It was the ring Elvis had given her, and she could still almost feel the caress of his hand as he slid it on her and told her how beautiful she was, how she deserved beautiful things. That had been a month ago, but it could have been yesterday when Charlie, Billy and Jo had all been rounded up to drive her home to Jackson after a whirlwind week at Graceland.

Becky tilted the ring back and forth, then looked up to watch the businesses in the Fondren go by as Harriet drove her home. Why did it feel like cheating on Elvis to go one blind date. An innocent blind date. An innocent blind date that had fizzled out and ended with a very platonic hug.

“Ugh, he was nice enough. I don’t know.”

Harriet looked over, then back at road. “It’s Elvis. Ida says he calls you every few days.”

“Yeah, he does. He asked me to come with him for his show in New York. Then well, when I said no I guess he went down the list.”

Becky sighed, thinking of the photos in the newspaper of Elvis with a very thin, very blonde woman who definitely was not Linda. The thought made her frown, and Harriet looked at Becky with sympathy as she turned the car on to her parent’s street.

“I thought you said that you left things on good terms, and that he wanted you to move up there? I can’t believe you would rather be here in Jackson than in Memphis.”

“Yeah. I mean no. I like, him, I mean, I cannot help it. I used to day dream of dating this man. But look at me, Harriet.”

Becky grabbed her purse and got out of the car, sweeping her hand over her body to showcase her tee shirt and jeans as she stood.

“I’m not groupie material. And I can’t up root my kid and move to a new city just so I can join Elvis’ harem for a few months. We left things on good terms, but I don’t even know if I am cut out to be a harem member.”

“You are a knock out, Becky. You are totally groupie material. No, wait. You're better than groupie. You are at least favorite girlfriend number two or three material. I cannot believe you aren’t on your way to Memphis. Or New York. You only live once!”

Harriet grinned as Becky shook her head and sent her off with a bang to the yellow hood, before turning to walk into the house.

She was a greeted with a yell from Ruth, who was coloring with Ida at the dining room table. Becky could smell Saul’s pot roast wafting from the kitchen as she crossed the room and kissed Ruth on head, checking out her drawing of what looked like a dressed up mushroom in a pile of rocks standing next to Father Christmas.

“What do you think?”

She looked at Ida, whispering as she tried to decipher the words her aunt was mouthing.

“The mob-bit? The Hobbit! Yes, of course, it's The Hobbit. There’s Bilbo. Wow, Ruth, you really captured what I thought he looks like.”

“I’ve been practicing my hobbit form. And see, he’s talking to Gandalf.”

“Ah, yes, I can tell from the beard.” She had to stop herself from giggling at Ida’s wink. “SO amazing, you have become a very talented artiste!”

“Well, she learned from the best.”

Becky smiled at her aunt as she went to grab a beer. “I think the student has surpassed the teacher, I can’t wait to hang this one the fridge.”

The phone rang while Becky was at the fridge, and she watched Ruth run to get it as she slumped into the chair next to Ida, who reached over to rub her forearm.

“Oy, Rebecca, was the restocking that bad today? You should have stopped Saulie from leaving. He is only 60, he could have helped finish -”

“Oh, no, Ida. Unless Saul has an in-depth knowledge of waterbed installation, his presence wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“Why do people want to sleep in those things? What if they leak. Or break? I get sea sick just thinking about it.”

“I’ve heard they can be really relaxing. I don’t know, but there is a new waterbed store two doors down. The owner spent an hour trying to figure out what materials he needs us to order, so I guess business is keeping him pretty busy.”

“Can you imagine getting busy in a water bed?”

“Ida!”

Ida grinned, fluffing up her short, silver bob. ”I’m just saying, I couldn’t make whoopee on top of a big bag of water, oy vey, I’d be so nervous, what with the sound of the sloshing - “

“Wait, hold that thought, although you know I love hearing about your sex life.” Becky held up her finger for her aunt to stop talking, pausing to hear what Ruth was saying on the phone.

“How do I know you are really a friend of Elvis’? Well can you ask him to come over again? The kids next door don’t believe he is my mom’s boy friend. And he promised to take me for ice cream again.”

Becky strode over to the phone. “Ruthie, who is it?”

Ruth covered the receiver with her hand, a mischievous look crept up her little face. “He says his name is Charlie, and when I asked how he knew you, he said -”

Becky held out her hand, taking the phone from her daughter. “Uh huh, ok, that’s enough from you , chatty Kathy, go help Ida clear up the art studio and set the table for dinner.” She paused, smoothing her hair, as if Charlie could see her from the other side of the phone.

“Hi Charlie. What’s up?”

She heard a single nervous “ha” on the other side of the phone, and took a deep breath. “Well, a, heya there Becky.”

It seemed to Becky like there was a more anxious desperation behind Charlie’s perfunctory niceties.

“Hiiiii? What’s up?”

“Look, um, Elvis asked me to call and see if you might reconsider coming out on tour? You know he misses ya somethin’ awful, ain’t stopped talking bout that cute chick back in Jackson.”

Becky took a deep breath, thinking of the photos in the paper of Elvis and that model.

“Hmmm. I’m sure. You know I want to, but I have a kid, Charlie - and it’s her last little bit of summer, I don’t wanna leave her twiddling her thumbs while I go traipsing around the country-”

“So bring her. Priscilla brings Lisa all the time, you know, they make it work, Elvis is a family man, hon- I mean Becky, tour is not some wild orgy. You’ve been there. The guys, the band, were all like a big happy family.”

“One big happy family, huh? I don’t know.”

“I can hear it in your voice, Becky girl, I can tell ya wanna come.”

Becky sighed, looking as Ruth paused her place setting to look up and grin at her mother. Ida was behind her, eye brow arched up as Becky motioned her over, whispering with her hand over the mouth piece if it would be ok to take off for a few days. It was disconcerting how much Ida nodded and how quickly an excited gleam grew in her eyes. Becky shoed her off and carried the phone to wonder down the hallway so no one could hear her.

“Maybe. You really think I could bring Ruthie? How long would it be for ?”

She heard Charlie breathe a sigh of relief, and then there was a kerfuffle and the bang of the phone handle dropping on the floor.

“Hey Becky Butt.” Elvis’ deep voice filled Becky’s ears and she realized he must have been sitting there watching Charlie ask her. “Honey, I ain’t stopped thinkin' bout you since you left me. I need you, need you bad."

Becky started to blush, just at the needy, low tenor of his voice. "I have been thinking about you to."

"That's good baby, real good. Let's get you out here, see if I'm still the same as you remember. Can’t wait to see you, baby. Tonight ain’t soon enough.”

“Tonight? Uh - Elvis, I - Charlie said I should bring Ruth? Is that really ok? Is it safe?”

“Honey, I’m a black belt with a gun. Ain’t no safer place on earth. Hell, probably the safest place for your baby. You know how crime is getting in our cities. Bring her along. Charlie can babysit too, he’s basically a child himself. Got the brains a one, any how.”

Becky stood there, tapping her toe as her mind raced. Every bit of sense screamed at her not to meet Elvis on tour. She had just told Ida last week she was ready for her aunt fix her up with any nice single guys her age, in a conscious effort to try and get Elvis out of her system. Be a normal, responsible adult. Having, normal, responsible relationships. But now, talking to Elvis, all she wanted to do was give in and rush to be near him.

“Ok.” She whispered out.

“Good, good girl. I’m having Charlie run get Joe, fly ya out tonight. Go get ya self packed up.”

********************************

The Norfolk airport was pitch black when they landed, and if it weren’t for the lights along the landing strip, Becky may not have been able to make out Jerry’s scowl from across the tarmac.

“You shouldn’t have come.” His voice was clipped and terse as he grabbed her traveling bag, looking her up and down as she wobbled behind him in the high heel suede boots Elvis had bought her.

“Hello to you, too.”

“He said you were bringing your daughter, so at least you have some sense.”

Becky gulped as Jerry opened her door, and she flipped the sun visor down to fix her make up.

“Yeah, I guess… I um, changed my mind. I thought she would have a good time, but then, I don’t know, I thought the schedule would throw her off. And I guess I don’t want her to get too attached to him. Or the idea of me and him. This is all just a little fun.”

Jerry looked over at her, his shoulders seemed to clench with his jaw as he drove

“Fun. Ha. Well get ready, I think you’re in for more fun than you bargained for.”

Then Jerry pulled over, and his voice went from sarcastic to earnest as he turned off the car. “Or you can just say the word right now, and I’ll turn around, take you back, and you can catch a flight home. I’ll tell him you never showed.”

Jerry’s hopeful expression gave Becky a strange sense of foreboding and all the excited, giddy anticipation drained from her body.

“But Jerry - there are no direct flights to Jackson, and it’s midnight.” Her lip quivered as she pushed her lipstick back into its case.

“And I - I can’t afford to pay for a hotel and then all the connections I would have to make to get back home. Why are you acting like this? What happened?”

The drove under a streetlight, and Becky saw the bags under Jerry’s eyes more fully as he gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“Elvis has been getting into it with the band all week. Kathy and two of the Sweet Inspirations stormed off the stage mid-show tonight cuz he was talking shit at them sideways.” Jerry looked over at Becky. “The big man can dish it out, but he cain’t take it. No sireee.”

He drew out his “sireeee” as he pulled the white Lincoln into a parking spot at the back of a hotel. Becky shifted back and forth during the elevator ride up, arms crossed in front of the white floral dress she had excitedly wiggled into with glee three hours ago, as Ida kissed her good luck, and Ruth had glowered, asking again why she couldn’t come. Now she felt ridiculous. Ugh, why couldn’t she ever listen to the voice of reason in her head that told her something was a bad idea. Leaning against the cool metal of the elevator, Becky kicked Jerry’s shin and tried to keep her voice light, positive.

“Ok, so level with me. Why is he fighting with the band, he seemed fine when he called me earlier.”

Jerry stepped away, grimacing at her familiarity. “That is because he is the master manipulator, and he wants you to come keep him company. But the last few days he has been stoned out of his gourd. More than usual. Cuz he’s in pain from all the performances, cuz he’s tired, cuz he’s bored. And he does not want to be on tour.”

“Then why is he?”

Jerry sucked in his breath and held up his hand, and a look of sharp contempt framed his smile as he rubbed his thumb and his forefinger together.

“Money money money, Becky! Linda needs a bigger apartment in LA! Dr. Nick needs a new house! Joe’s swindled him into starting a racquetball club! And of course he needs a different, gold plated plane.”

Becky swiveled in front of Jerry, looking him square in the eye as they hit the twenty first floor and she stepped backwards into the hallway.

“And what about you, Jerry, are your needs being taken care of?”

Jerry shook his head, and a sharp chuckle escaped his lips while he hung back and threw Becky’s blue travel case at her feet.

“Hmmm. I reckon you gotta from here, Becky. He’s in the Presidential Suite. Just down the hall.” He looked away, stating in a matter of fact tone. “Have fun.”

Becky’s mouth dropped as she watched Jerry tilt his head to the side through the closing doors, his eyebrows arched in a challenge. The elevator clanged shut, and Becky steadied herself, then opened her purse, as if all of life's problems could be solved with a tissue or some lipstick. There was the paperback copy of The Hobbit at the bottom, the one she’d been reading to Ruth. The one Ruth had shoved in her hands at the last minute, demanding that she call home and read to her while she was away. Becky smiled, thinking of Ruth’s big brown eyes as her small, stubborn mouth announced that she would be telling the neighbor kids all about how her mom was going to meet Elvis at his concert, even as Becky begged her not to.

“I guess if one good thing comes out of this, it should be Ruthie one upping those Ledbetter brats.”

Becky dug around in her purse, and decided to pop a tic tac in her mouth, the mint was refreshing, it washed away the bad taste her conversation with Jerry had left in her mouth. Then Becky took a moment to look herself over in the mirror. Ida had helped her pin her hair half up in the front, and her floral, cotton dress hung down in a flattering way from the embroidered empire chest to hang loosely over her hips before stopping at her knees. The suede boots gave her some height, and she liked the fringe along the side, she liked the way she could feel it dangle as she walked. She just had to keep her balance and everything would be fine. Looking at herself in the mirror, she blew herself a kiss and took a deep breath. In a moment of inspiration, she broken off one of the yellow roses from the vase on the table, and pinned it into the side of her hair, then strode down the hall.

She pulled on the ring Elvis had given her, once more finding reassurance from rubbing the metal over her finger again and again. But her confidence faltered for a moment outside the suite when she heard the smash of something being flung and breaking against the wall, followed by stomping and shouting. Elvis-like shouting.

“Fired, they’re all FUCKING fired. ‘Cept Myrna, she’s the only one with any sense a loyalty or professionalism. I don’ care if them other bitches come back here, begging, BEGGING, on their knees for their jobs back. They revealed their true colors here tonight. It’ll be a cold day in HELL before I take ‘em back.”

The shouting paused, and Becky leaned into the door to try and hear what the chorus of male voices muttering indecipherably were saying, before a loud voice, deeper than the Mississippi delta, bellowed back.

“Nah. Nope. I ain’t apologizing for shit. They need to ‘apologize to me, Felton, for not bein’ able to take a GODDAMN joke. There’s a hundred back up singers out there starving fo’ work. Who’d slit their momma’s throats for a chance to sing with us. Why don’t you do YA job and go find me some a them? What the hell I pay ya for? ‘Sposed to be producin’ this show, go produce some back up singers.”

Becky’s excitement at seeing Elvis again had now been replaced by a tense ball of nerves shifting in her stomach. Suddenly the sound of footsteps came towards her, and she jumped back from the door just in time before three or four men pushed by where she stood back, sucking in her stomach and gripping the wall as she watched them trudge down the hallway. Then she turned to find Charlie at the door, looking at her as his face scrunched from unease into a wide grin.

“Why if it isn’t Becky from Birmingham. Whatcha doin’ hugging the wall out here, Becky? Git in here, girl.”

Charlie stood back, and Becky braced herself as she entered the hotel room.

It was a mess, plates of half eaten food lined the table and bar, several of which had been flung against the wall, where mashed potatoes and gravy now dripped down the wallpaper onto pieces of broken porcelain on the carpet. Becky shivered, and then tried to compose herself as she looked around. There was Joe, smoking and pacing on the other side of the room, he turned when he saw her, unable to hide the disdain that grew on his face. She recognized Red and Lamar on the couch, Sonny hunched against the wall, but didn’t know the younger, skinnier guy with long brown hair.

Becky suddenly felt very awkward and out of place and brought her blue, vinyl travel bag up to her stomach where she could hug it for comfort. She smiled at Lamar as Charlie patted her back.

“You know the fellas, aintcha Becky?” She nodded, her walk stilted as she came further into the pent house. “The big guy just went to his room, but man are you a sight for sore eyes, he sure is gonna be glad to see you.”

Sonny let out a laugh, then stood up and walked towards her.

“I thought Jerry was picking you up?”

“He was, I mean he did, but I guess he - um - had other stuff to go do.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. By now I bet he’s kissed Myrna’s ass so hard his lips are glued to it.” Sonny rubbed his hands together, looking Becky up and down, and she hugged her bag harder at the resentment in his eyes as he went to pour himself a drink.

“Don’t pay him no mind, Becky, he woked up on the wrong side of the bed is all. For the last ten years.” Charlie laughed loudly at his own joke, as he guided Becky through the tense, silence of the living room towards the master bed room, where he knocked on the door to the old “Shave and a hair cut, two bits” pattern.

“I said to FUCK OFF.” Was the response, and Becky looked at Charlie imploringly.

“He seems - out of sorts. Maybe I shouldn't be here.”

Red snorted behind them, muttering under his breath that was one way to put it. But Charlie shook his head, whispering.

“Nah, it’s jus been a rough night with some a the personnel.” This elicited another snort from Red, but Charlie continued, undeterred. “He wanted to know the second you got here, trust me.” Then Charlie cleared his throat, calling out.

“Hey boss, guess who is here? It’s lil ol Becky! Just in from Miss’ppi.”

“Well why the didn’t ya say that in the first place.”

The door flung open with a bang to reveal Elvis, still wearing the blue jumpsuit with the silver zebra pattern rising on either side of his chest. A matching zebra patterned belt was at his waist and his hands held an old fashioned looking quilt in patriotic red, white and blue around his shoulders, like the comfort blanky Ruth still slept with sometimes.

Becky immediately dropped her bag and went to him, cupping his face with her hands as she looked up into his eyes. In spite of all the shouting, the gruff stance, he looked like a wounded puppy. She would whatever she could to take all the pain out of his eyes and hold him until he knew that everything was alright.

The side of her pinky crested against a taut choker, as she shook her head at the dark make-up smudged around his eyes. His lips pursed together at the center as he looked down sheepishly, like a little boy, biting his lip as his hands let the quilt drop to the floor and found her waist.

“Are you cold, Elvis?” She asked, looking at the quilt.

“What, oh that? Nah honey, someone gave it to me at the show and I like." He exhaled slowly through his nose. "Aww Becky, is it good to see you.”

Elvis picked her up and swung her around, bouncing her against his slight belly. His face lit up, and Becky could almost swear he wiped a tear from his eye as he placed her down and drew her into his side, walking her out to the living room.

“Now, this is what a good gal looks like, a loyal gal. Drop ev’ry thin when her man needs her. Man ‘o man, baby. You look like an angel, sent from heaven. How’d I get so lucky, have an angel come visit me, huh?” He grinned, looked at the others before kissing the top of her hair with gusto, so much so that his chin knocked the rose out of it, and then he accidentally stepped on it when he moved to pick it up. Elvis bent at his knees, wobbling as he tried to gathered up all the petals, his voice was high and babyish.

“Aw, no no no no. I’m sorry baby, I trampled all ova ya pretty flower.”

Then he dropped it an octave yelling forcefully.

“Charlie - boy, where’d that dumb ass go.” Before he had even finished uttering the words dumb ass, Charlie was there, chuckling as if Elvis and he were two frat boys yanking each other’s chain. Instead of master and trained dog, Becky mused, then pushed the thought from her mind.

“Charlie, run out and get Becky some fresh roses -”

Becky bent down next to Elvis on the carpet and stilled his hand to pull him back up, notching herself under Elvis shoulder as she turned to Charlie.

“Don’t you dare, Charlie. I just stole it on my way in, I can always go get another one.” Then she leaned up on her tippy toes and kissed Elvis’ cheek. “It’s a sweet thought, though. You’re sweet a sweet boy. Thanks for inviting me to join you, wished I hadn’t missed the show.”

Then she ran her fingers through the sweaty matted hair at his temple, stroked out the sticky hairspray that had kept his coiffed, high pompadour in place. Elvis’ blue eyes locked with hers and his whole body softened.

“S’ok, honey, probably all for the best. Was a sorry ass excuse for a show anyway.”

Becky trailed her fingers lower, over his chin and down along his chest hair.

“Impossible.” She whispered into the crease at his armpit, nuzzling her nose against the edge of his shoulder.

He didn’t even break eye contact as she looked back into his face as he lifted his right hand out and waved the guys off.

“Alright, boys, dismissed.”

Becky smooshed her face back into his armpit, rather than watch the parade of angry, middle aged men depart. Just before he left, she heard Charlie start to say good night and how nice it was to see her, when Elvis yelled for him to stop making eyes at Becky and go find his own gal.

Then they were alone. In a sea of dirty dishes, broken plates, rose petals and one coffee table that looked like it had been turned upside down. Unless it was some sort of new modern design, where you placed your coffee on the marble slab face down on ground.

Looking back up at Elvis, Becky didn’t know what to say. The screaming she had heard through the door had terrified her., yet looking at him now it seemed so clear how tired and how much pressure he felt. Jerry’s words rang in her ears, and they summoned all of Becky’s stupid, nurturing instincts. She began to pull off his scarf, peppering his chest with a few soft kisses to sooth the heart beat she heard, running as fast as a loose rail car thundering down a mountain.

Looking back up at his face, she licked her thumb, without consciously realizing what she was doing, and started to clean up his eye make-up, and he started to babble about the whole world going to hell. But he quieted as she shook her head, and gripped her hand tightly, shakily. Feeling him tremble, she remembered how exhausted he must be. So she paused and led him through the master suite and into bathroom, when she sat him on the toilet, stopped him again from protesting that he was fine, with a finger to his lips. Then she took a wet washcloth, and straddled his lap to clean his face.

Elvis grinned up at her, and when was done, he clasped both her hands in his and brought them forward to kiss her knuckles, his eyes level with her breasts. She let out a gasp at the way he sucked at her knuckles, before she shook herself free so she could reclaim her hand and undo his choker.

“What’s the matter, baby boy, hmmm? What’s all the fuss bout tonight, huh?”

She soothed his forehead with her fingers, cracking her neck as she steadied herself on his lap. The texture of his blue, gaberdine suit was soft underneath her bare thighs.

“Ah, nothing honey, jus the doggone back up singers can’t take a joke. Walked off in the middle of the set, make me look like a damn clown.”

Becky steadied herself.

“I find that hard to believe. Don’t look like a clown to me. If anything,” she begun to unzip his jumpsuit, her hands smoothing over the cool sweaty, hair she found there as she pushed against his belly. “If anything, they’re the ones who look foolish. Walking off like that.”

Elvis' lip hung down, just the slight hint of a double chin grew there, before they widened into a smile, pushing the apples of his cheeks up towards her.

“Ya sweet honey, ya know that? Wait, whatcha doin’ woman?”

Becky giggled as she pulled off his belt, and leaned into smell his chest.

“I am undressing you, Elvis Presley. Shower time.”

He tried to dismiss this idea with a wave of his hand.

“Honey, I don’t need a shower.”

“Oh yes you do.” Becky rubbed her hands under Elvis’ jumpsuit, trying to push it off his shoulders. “When was the last time you took a shower, you stinky boy.”

He pursed his lips, shaking his head. “Uh, uh, uh -”

“Ha, if it is taking that long to answer, it has been tooo long.” She jumped up, and went to start the water. Elvis stood, bringing her back against the bathroom wall.

“Think you can come in here, and order me around, huh?” He smirked. “I like how I smell. Smell like a man. S'natural, s'way God made me.”

“Good little boys.” Becky worked her hands back under his suit. “Who take good little showers.” She got the fabric off the side of his shoulders. “Get good little rewards.”

He stilled her hands, enveloping her with his scent, a staunch mix of sweaty musk doused with a bottle or two of brut. Becky wrinkled her nose.

“And what about bad little boys who do what they want, huh?”

She threw her arms around his neck. “They get loved on until they learn to behave.” And she began to kiss his chest and neck with a swift barrage of pecks.

“Alright, alright crazy woman. What’s my reward, then, huh?”

Becky pulled her dress off with a speed that made Elvis' head spin, but before he could make a snarky remark, she bent over to take off her boots, and all he could do was stare at her bottom as she motioned for him to unclasp her bra.

“Your reward is me. In the shower. Washing you.”

Becky giggled self consciously as she took Elvis’ hands and drew him into the shower. She didn’t know where her chutzpah had come from, all she knew was that when she was with him, she was a woman transformed. Her walls came down, and she wanted to be as close as possible to him, do whatever she could to put him at ease. Being around Elvis had warped her entire way of thinking.

The way his smirk rippled across his cheeks as he watched her lather up a wash cloth and start scrubbing over his hair chest made her tummy feel funny. Like she was about to jump off a diving board. She watched the soap drizzled down over his waist and down his happy trail. Becky swallowed hard, unable to stop herself from rubbing over it with her hand and wiping the soap into different shapes around his belly button. A triangle, a circle, a heart.

Elvis chuckled as he squeezed his eyes shut under the water, letting it rinse everything off as he muttered that she was a weirdo. Then he took the wash cloth from her hands and spread the lather over the top of her breasts. Back and forth, as if mesmerized. His attentive gaze made her vibrate, and Becky’s nipples became hard nubs. She pushed his hand aside, stepping close to rub the soap from her bosom against him, playfully.

“I think they’re clean.”

“Never can be too sure.” He pulled her closer, nudging his nose over hers as he took the washcloth back and began to caress her butt. “Just bein’ thorough. Wanna a get all my reward.”

“Your reward was me washing you, not the other way around.”

Elvis winked. “I’m renegotiatin’.” And he carefully turned Becky around so that she was leaning into the shower wall, while he slowly moved the washcloth over her shoulder blades, the small of her back, her bottom cheeks and the backs of her legs. His movements were so soft and tender, that they made all the thoughts drain from Becky’s head with the water. Her knees turned into jelly. And all she knew was the warm sensation vibrating up her spine and tingling between her legs.

It was 3:45 am when they finally collapsed into the master suite’s large, king bed in matching pajamas. Becky could rest assured that every part of her body was clean, and while she hadn’t scrubbed him behind his ears, she had done her best with Elvis.

He had taken the cute, sexy pink fluffy negligee she had brought to sleep in from her hands, and thrown it in the trash, reiterating that just because they were on the road, they were never safe from commie drug dealers. Arsonists. Assassins. Any number of dangerous threats that could result in an instant need to evacuate the hotel.

“Trust me, Becky, you’ll be greatful ya wearing something decent if that happens.”

Becky rolled her eyes, saying to herself that Elvis was worse than her grandmother. But she obliged and reasoned that Elvis’ pajamas were probably more comfortable than the gauzy peignoir she had brought. The she settled back, watching him take his medication from the black, doctor’s bag, before folding her arms around him when he snuggled up and lay his head on her breasts, murmuring to her in a low, babying tone.

“Aw Becky, don’t know what I’d do if you hadn’t come.”

She stroked his soft, dyed hair, shhhing him as she smiled to her self at the hint of grey she saw at the peak of his right side burn.

“You’d be fine, you always are.”

“Nah, honey, none a these fools love me for who I really am. None of them would be here if it weren’t for the money.”

“That’s not true, your friends love you. They’ve known you all your life.”

“Nah uh, they don’t, baby. No one loves me. You might be the only one in the whole world who doesn’t want anything from me. Won’t take my goddamn money, even when I mean it as a gift. Because I do love givin’ gifts.”

Becky trailed her fingers across Elvis’ forehead, enjoying the way his warm skin felt under her knuckles. “I know you do. You really do.”

“But no one appreciates it, they just want more. Won’t be happy til they suck me dry. Ugh, I don’t know if I can even sleep, so keyed up about the band.”

Becky kissed his forehead, as an idea percolated, and she rose from the bed to grab The Hobbit from her purse.

“Here, why don’t I read to you, take your mind off things?”

Elvis’ took the book ins hand. “This the book Spock was singing about?”

Becky giggled, thinking of Leonard Nimoy’s record few years back. “I believe the song you are referring to is ‘The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins.’ And yes, it was inspired by this book. But I know you've heard of The Hobbit, Elvis. Have you ever read it?”

Elvis shook his head, but before he could protest that he didn’t read children's books, she brought his head back to her bosom and began reading it, doing the voices the same way she did with Ruth. They passed out at some point in the “Roast Mutton” chapter, after pausing from time to time debating what their hobbit names would be.

“I think you are probably too tall to be a hobbit, Elvis, probably more an elf. Your name is practically the same as their language.”

“Well, that don’t make sense, no one names their kid after a language. English. Spanish. This is ma son, German. So then, what do you ’spose my elf name would be?”

Becky yawned. “I guess that will be our proooooject over the next few days, figure out what our hobbit and elf names are.”

“Guesss sooooooo.” Elvis yawned back.

**********************************************************

Becky found her paperback copy of The Hobbit open and smashed between them where Elvis had fallen asleep with his head on top of her chest. Several pages were bent back, and she tried to get them straight by bending them the other way, before deciding to put the lamp on top of it with the hope it would weigh them back into place. The room was still so dark, it surprised her to see that the clock read one p.m. It had been five or six when they passed out, and Becky could hardly believe how quickly she adapted back to Elvis’ schedule.

Looking down at him, she returned to cuddle into him, thinking how sweet he looked with his mouth wide open, asleep, completely unperturbed about the weight of the world that he carried on his shoulders. Then, as she shimmied her legs next to his, she felt the distinct, outline of an erect penis. I guess he slept well, she thought, and suddenly felt an aching tingle light up between her legs and a naughty thought enter her mind. Becky bit her lip, wondering how to wake him up without making it obvious. She began to nestle her knee into his cock, then blow air over his eyelids, faintly at first as she watched his long eyelashes flutter and waited to see if it woke him. When he remained asleep, she blew harder, emptying her lungs, until she saw his eyelids move and he opened one eye, with a blank, confused, slightly drugged out stare. This prompted her to plop back, not so stealthily, and pretend to be asleep herself. She also stopped moving her knee over his penis. Sleeping people don’t do that.

“Ha, now watcha think ya doin, Becky Butt?”

Elvis narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. A chuckled escaped Becky’s mouth, and her hand replaced her knee to slowly sweep over the outline of Elvis’ length, teasing his tip with the swirl of her thumb. Elvis seemed to instinctively move back up against the pillows, while also trying half-heartedly to swat away her hands from his pajama bottoms as she moved her head to his crotch.

“Now, honey, you’re a good girl, good girls don’t do that.”

Becky pulled at his waist, leaning down to nuzzle against the silk over his thigh, looking up and batting her lashes.

“Baby, you’ve been so stressed out, this tour got you all worked up. I’m just trying to help you relax and clear your head, so you can figure out what you want to do about your band.”

Elvis released her hands from where he had stopped them at his pants, and flopped back against the head board, resigned and moaning as her hand feathered over him. He closed his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling and muttered, “Lord have mercy. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

Becky did a wiggly, little triumphant dance as Elvis shook his head, grinning as she pulled his pants down and very slowly and reverently bent down to kiss the tip, savoring the way his breath became heavier as she did. He bit his lip watching her look at him as she swirled her tongue around his foreskin where it now crested back above the head. In a leisurely, affectionate way, she moved her tongue hesitantly around him, using one hand to loosely palm up and down his shaft as she sucked the tip once more. Kissing it delicately, relishing how sensitive he was, how even just moving her mouth down an inch made his leg jolt. She laughed onto his cock when his knee knocked her head, and she looked up to see a warm, boyish smile beaming back down at her.

“Hey now, be gentle with him. He's, uh, he's, ughhhh, he's shy.”

Becky smiled as best she could up at him with a penis in her mouth, and worked to just move along the end of the foreskin to the top of the head, waiting as he moved her hair to guide her forward. His gasps sent a sharp ping to her core and Becky realized that the sound of Elvis’ hushed pleasure was like an aphrodisiac that she wanted to chase. And chase it she did, hollowing her cheeks to bob further down, seeing how far she could go with out gagging, seeing what happened when his tip hit the back of her throat, savoring the feeling of how it almost choked her.

His mouth now hung open, and he let out a loud moan as she delved deeper with the next thrust. Looking, she saw that his eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth hung open, the bottom lip shaking tremulously as she began to speed up her tempo, following her mouth with her hand and breathing through her nose as she tried not to gag when she plunged downward. Then she felt Elvis grip her hair with a tight fist.

“Ah honey, oh Becky, oh honey, Imma about to burst!”

She watched his face contort as she nodded her acquiescence and continued to move her mouth over him, possessing him and at the same time giving herself to him as he arched his back up into her and came with a loud, breathy, high pitched cry. He was tangy, and salty, and she looked at him with a seductive wink as she flipped her hair and tried to swallow it all, before gagging and coughing most of it out of the side of her mouth and onto the duvet. This performance was followed by loud belly laughs from both parties as Becky rolled over in a fit of giggles at her clumsy attempt to be sexy. She hid under the pillows and blushed when Elvis moved over, threw the pillow away, and pulled her onto him with a goofy smile.

“Ya sure are sumpthin', Becky Butt. Man ‘o’ man." He sighed, stroking her shoulder. "Haven’t done anything like that in a while. Prolly since last time I saw you.”

“Elvis, you don’t have to lie to me, I see the photos of you with your other girlfriends on tour.”

He sucked in a deep breath, taking her chin to look up at him.

“You mean that girl I invited on tour after you turned me down? Honey, she don’t mean a thing, just someone to keep the bed warm. Wasn’t getting busy with her, tell you that.”

Becky arched her eye. “Really?”

“Mmmmhmmm. She is pretty, but she don't turn me on, not like you, baby. You’re my little snake charmer, member? And man, honey, every time too. Something special bout you. Gonna need you to come on the rest of the tour with me." His arm dropped, and his eyebrows furrowed and Becky realized he must be thinking about the tour. "Fuck, man, gotta figure out what to do bout these singers, goddammit. I don really wanna train new gals to sing, with only a few nights left.”

Becky patted his arm. “So don’t. Just apologize.”

A nervous squeak escaped her throat when she saw his lips purse and his eyes narrow in disbelief at her suggestion.

“You don’t have to mean it! I believe you were right, they are being bitches. Baby, trust me, you know how singers can be, premadonnas. And they are women. You can’t win with us. But you can know in your heart that you were joking, and also do what needs to be done to keep the show going by mending fences. S’easier to catch more flies with honey, E.”

Becky felt like a traitor to her fellow womankind, as she felt fairly certain that whatever had happened, the back up singers probably had every right to be upset. But the end justified the means, right? Her reasoning seemed to have some effect, as Elvis' pinched lips released and he grunted.

She watched as he looked at her, and repeated "easier to catch more flies with honey" in a high, mocking voice, while he rolled over and picked up the phone, asking the operator for Joe’s room. “Get Lowell on a plane, tell him to bring everything in the store. I don’t care, jack, do you work for my daddy? No, that’s what I thought, huh. Yeah, Imma have Felton take it all over to the girls, to everyone, tell them I know things got outta hand this week, let’s leave it in the past. Oh, and I wanna get Myrna a new Caddy, so she knows what loyalty means to me.”

Elvis was patting Becky’s thigh as he did this, his fingers playing a rhythm only he knew. But it made Becky feel special, needed, close to him, and she found a strange contentment just being there, receiving the song his body was tapping out. After he hung up, he called room service and asked them to send two of everything from the breakfast menu, explaining he didn’t care if it was 2 o’clock in the afternoon.

“Ever been Asheville, ha, honey?”

“MMmhmmm. No, can't say I have. Guess we'll have a few days there to figure out what our hobbitses names are.”

“Already know what your’s is. Becky Bobbit.” He grinned wide at her quizzical face. “Cuz you bobbit so good on my nobbit.”

Becky hit him as he burst into a fit of giggles. “Dirty, nasty, mean man.”

“Awww, honey, s’compliment. Wanna keep you round with me always, my lil bobbit hobbit.”

“Ha.”

“Comin’ to Memphis after the tour?”

“Elvis - I -”

“I thought we were talkin’ bout getting you moved up there. You will love it."

“I will hate it.”

“Nah, you won’t.”

“Hmmm, you might be sick of me after the next few days.”

Elvis squeezed his arm around her tighter, looking down at the stain on the duvet, and then back at her with a silly smile.

“Nah, I won’t.”

***************************************************

For fun...

youtube

Thanks for reading.... argh. Let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged. Comments, reblogs and feedback are very much loved and appreciated.

taglist:

@tacozebra051 @richardslady121 @powerofelvis @dkayfixates @searchingforgravity @sharebearkk @18lkpeters @elvispresleywife @moonchild-daniella @bisexualwvtson @eliseinmemphis @avengen @father-of-2cats @j-v-9-2 @lillypink @notstefaniepresley @stylespresleyhearted @godlypresley @crash-and-cure @doll-elvis @beeandheroddobsessions @misspresley @yanderereader @alqvarde @yynneessmons @kendralavon7 @daffieapple @louisejoy86 @flwrs4aust @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @leopardandstuds @burningloverdoll @butlersluvbot @precious-little-scoundrel @ashtag6887 @arrolyn1114 @stargirllily19 @amydarcimarie @joshuntildawn13 @ccab @artlover8992 @elvisrealgf @littlehoneyposts @literally-just-elvis-fics

#elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc #big daddy elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #no one walks out on big daddy #elvis fanfic #thatbanditqueen #Youtube

112 notes · View notes

voilate · 5 months

Text

An Eye for Snow (tbosas)

Pairings: Sejanus Plinth x Fem!Reader x Coriolanus Snow?

Summary: When Magnolia Hawthorne gets herself mixed up in the Rebel, Capital crossfire to protect her close friend Sejanus, how will she navigate the already strenuous situation alongside Coriolanus Snow? (7.3k)

⚠️: Death, Explosions, Mentions of Abuse, Fighting, Minimal Swearing, Arguing

The marble floor is icy cold, sending goosebumps up my bare legs. I curse myself for wearing a skirt before realizing that I’d prefer my choice of clothing soon enough, amidst the sweltering temperatures I’m soon to face during my walk to the Arena.

“Thank you so much,” I grin guiltily at Tigris, removing the steaming bowl of cabbage soup from her warm hands. A rather gross reoccurrence of a meal that is often prepared in the Snow house, but it’s better than no meal, and who am I to judge someone who can feed me?

My stomach grumbles at the remembrance of the large meal that was provided on the day of the reaping. It was almost impossible to not stuff myself full the second I was seated, and I now regret not taking some food home with me.

It was Coriolanus himself who forbid me from doing it, though I could tell he wanted to just as badly.

“Please.” She laughs, “You have got to stop emphasizing your thanks when you’re practically a member of this household. I would take as much joy in starving you as I would Coryo.”

“Starving me?” Coriolanus enters the living area as he adjusts his coat.

“I wouldn’t starve either of you.” She smiles, “Though, one mentor seems far more grateful for my cooking than the other.”

She teasingly pats his shoulder as he passes her by without recognition, which results in a defeated look plastered on her face.

“Alright well, you two better get going unless you want to be late for,” She pauses, “What is it that you guys are doing again?”

Coriolanus opens the front door, holding it there and looking back as if anticipating my arrival.

“Taking our tributes to the arena.” I tell her, jumping to my feet and placing my barely touched soup back into her hands, “Have you or Grandma’am eaten today?”

“We will.” She smiles softly. “Now go!”

I follow after Coriolanus, grabbing the rims of my skirt and curtsying dramatically after he shuts the door behind us.

He rolls his eyes, “Must you be so polite?”

“In what other way would I find pleasure in spiting you?” I tease, wrapping my arm around his extended invitation as we walk. “Did you remember her food?”

“Of course. Did you remember yours?”

“Of course.” I echo with a sigh, “Not that she’ll even take it. Hasn’t learned to trust me like your Lucy Gray trusts you.”

I eye him as he suppresses a smile and as if alluding to something else, note, “You mustn’t pretend to be someone else around me, you know.”

“And you mustn’t use such proper dialogue in the presence of I.” He mocks. “Isn’t it exhausting?”

“And how do you know this isn’t how I naturally speak?”

“I watch you calculate each word before you vocalize it.”

“Your claim reminds me of yourself.” His brow furrows, “I always know when you are about to speak publicly based on how much attention you pay to a conversation. How deep you are into wondering when the appropriate time to weigh in is, and what the exact words are. Isn’t that exhausting?”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Sejanus.” He chuckles.

“I’ve been spending too much time with you. Anyone could see it if they had the eye to.”

“Not everyone has the eye.”

“That they don’t.”

The newfound melancholy of the atmosphere deflates just as quickly as it arose. Silence replaces our lighthearted conversation.

I examine his distant expression, what is he thinking about? I’ve found myself wondering that a lot since the Hunger Games began, his constant empty gaze that suggests he’s here with you when his mind is elsewhere.

I open my mouth to comment on the heat, but his inhale slams my mouth shut.

“Any encounters with your father lately?”

Really? That’s what he was thinking about?

“Thankfully no.” I peer away, gazing out into the city that surrounds us as I pull my arm from his grasp, crossing both of my own over my chest. “Not since that night.”

He nods, digesting the newfound information before returning to his distant safe space. I can tell that wasn’t the only question on his mind but know he won’t dare ask another one. What does he think he’ll be taken as if he does? Inquisitive? Whatever the case, I drop it completely and pay my utmost attention to the anxiety that has been bundled in the pits of my stomach all morning. I make it a point to fully look away from Coriolanus as I allow the worries to take over my mind. Even the slightest scent of suspicion will turn him into a dog on our trail. Sejanus doesn’t understand that Coryo is all-knowing and that years of constant manipulation have granted him the ultimate access to everyone else’s deceits. He will undoubtedly find out sooner or later.

“Let’s hope it’s later rather than sooner.” Sejanus had half-heartedly joked, though I could tell he was just as nervous about the plan as I. Part of me wanted to tell Coriolanus. Fall onto my knees and confide in him how I had all those years ago. I want to explain that I have to help Sejanus otherwise he’ll get himself caught and hung. I used to find such warmth within Coryo, he gifted me a security that no one else could provide. Three years ago I would’ve never kept such a dire secret from him, but now? I’m not the same girl he rescued from an abusive, alcoholic father. I’m not the same girl he shielded from rumors after my moving in with him and I’m certainly not the same girl who cried tears of joy after the Rebels had been defeated.

I am a rebel now. At least in the eyes of the capital I am. I have one foot stuck in the mud of the rebel life, and the rest of me is still clinging to any Capital advantages I may be granted. The dirt on my shoe is a crime worth a rope in the sky, or worse. I sometimes recall the very last hangings that I witnessed, when the Rebels that had infiltrated the Capital were caught, and very cruelly charged. My stomach churns and I become queasy at the realization of the stark difference between my feelings towards their punishment then, and now.

I had to fight to maintain my scholarly reputation after all the ruckus about my situation broke out. I’m too afraid to disclose any information about my wanting to remain a virtuous capital student to Sejanus, who had originally begged me to keep away from the mess he had made of things. Now I’m entangled and can’t escape without risking either of our lives. The only person who could help me even begin to unravel this mess is a boy who could report me to Dr. Gaul without a second glance. I’m as good as a traitor no matter who catches me. Would Sejanus get himself killed? How far is Coriolanus willing to go for prosperity? He’s not the same boy either. He’s softer, and more understanding than he was before, all thanks to his little songbird, but I don’t think he would let me get away with this, even now.

“Everything alright?” His voice startles me back to the Capital Streets.

“Oh-“ I fumble, “Just thinking.”

“Enlighten me.”

An open invitation to admit to all of my wrongdoings, my mistakes. Maybe if I come clean I will be spared. I won’t be considered a rebel sympathizer, not just that, a rebel!

“I-“ I begin, but pause as my feet meet the entrance of the Arena. “Just my father.”

“Ah.” He nods as if understanding. “Well try to forget about that nonsense for right now, you have a tribute to attend to.”

I depart with a soft smile, leaving him at the rear of the line formed of tributes and mentors to fill the empty gap left next to Sabyn.

“Let’s go.” A peacekeeper orders, hoisting the bars above his head to allow us to file in.

Immediately our line diminishes into a clump, Sejanus and his tribute falling back to stand by my side as others just try to fill the small space. We take turns putting our assigned coin into the slot and stepping through the turnstiles, each being greeted with the same stimulating, “Enjoy the show!” I have to use my left hand to steady the trembling of my right as I attempt to fit the shaking coin through the compact hole. Finally, it falls in and clinks as it hits the bottom, signaling that I may walk through.

“Enjoy the show!”

I curl my hands into fists in a desperate attempt to stop the shaking that instantly flags me as guilty.

Don’t look scared.

I remind myself.

Don’t become a suspect.

“Enjoy the show!” Sejanus slips behind me, covertly situating his hand into mine. He brushes his thumb over the temple of my hand, soothing it to a light tremble.

I peer up at him expecting to exchange a look but he blankly stares off into the distance as if simply awaiting the arrival of the remainder of our group. I quickly avert my eyes to the Arena, which will soon be destroyed, hopefully to the extreme of canceling the Hunger Games which will send Marcus, Sabyn, and all the rest of the tributes home safely.

Suddenly that word swings back at me, whacking my newfound confidence like a lethal boomerang.

Safely?

Did the rebels ever ensure the safety of the people inside the arena? They wanted bombs placed inside, which Sejanus and I very hesitantly assisted with, but for what purpose? To hit the Capital right where it hurts, the Hunger Games. They desired the cancelation of the games, but not for the safety of the tributes, for the incitement of the Capital. To irritate them.

The words feel like toxins, threatening to bubble up and verbalize in the form of vomit.

“Ow-“ Sejanus grunts softly, forcefully pulling his hand from my harsh grasp. “Are you okay?”

“I-“ I breathe before seeing his eyes dart towards the microphone that hangs on the wall just 10 feet away from us. Has it been activated? Would it pick up my words? I swallow down any audible form of my concerns and simply verbalize, “Just surreal is all. Haven’t seen this place in person since the war.” Though my eyes illustrate all structures of my distress.

Will they die? Will we die? Will all of this anxiety-induced effort serve us no purpose? All of this, just for the mere annoyance of the Capitol?

A sad smile of recognition crosses his face. He understands. He doesn’t showcase more than a wince but I know he understands.

“Enjoy the Show!”

“All right huddle up.” The peacekeeper orders, “You get 20 minutes, that’s it! Explore, look around, get used to the place, because soon enough you’ll be living in it.” He pauses seemingly expecting us to act, “Move!”

“Where should we look?” I signal to Sejanus, wondering where the safest spot might be.

“Let’s check out the center.”

“The center?” Marcus scoffs, “What’s the point in looking around? There’s no place to hide and no escape, you can practically see everything from this spot right here!”

My eyes peer to below the microphone where I know a bomb is planted far too close to us.

“You’ll get a much better view from the center,” Sejanus begins towards it, “Come on.”

With a reluctant roll of his eyes, Marcus and Sabyn follow behind him, both trying to pretend as though their gazes aren’t exploring the arena far better from this perspective.

Strategy is hard to talk about when you know there won’t be an arena for the strategy to take place in anyways, but I can tell they both expect some ounce of advice.

“Here,” I whisper, conscientiously digging into my pockets and pulling out the slice of ham I was able to salvage from lunch at the Academy yesterday. “I’m sorry it was all I could-“ She snatches it and stuffs it into her own pockets, a small smile breaching my lips.

Suddenly a violent detonation shakes the ground and rings through my ears. I fall to the floor, covered by my arms as well as Sejanus’. Another burst sounds on the opposite side of the large room, still shaking where we helplessly lay. Then another and another until eruptions are blowing all around the edges of the arena, sending winds of rubble throughout the air.

My head lays on the ground with Sejanus buried into my shoulder. I can’t see much of anything occurring but the blood-curdling sounds are enough to know that I was right. Safety was of no priority to the Rebels.

My sobs shake the entirety of my body as the endless amounts of explosions finally halt, only heightening the shrieks produced by my classmates and their tributes. Gunshots fire close by, shrinking me deeper into the ground.

“Help!” A distinct voice calls out. “Somebody help!”

I quickly pull from Sejanus’ grasp, jumping to my feet to help Coryo, who must be in serious trouble if he risks the vulnerability that crying for help requires.

“Come on!” Sejanus grabs my hand, now on his feet as he ushers me towards the exit that is in the opposite direction of Coriolanus’ cries. When he can’t seem to pull hard enough, I’m suddenly scooped from the floor, and tossed over his shoulder, as he rushes towards the doorway just as another explosion sounds and a fiery beam comes crashing down in the spot we once stood. I can’t see Coriolanus through the smoke and instantly burst into tears, jumping from Sejanus’ arms.

“Coriolanus!” I shout to the peacekeeper who’s just thrown Livia Cardew onto the dirt floor, “Coriolanus is in there! So is Lucy Gray!”

He shares an annoyed glance with another Peacekeeper before they both reluctantly run in after them.

Sejanus entangles me in a tight embrace as his chest heaves up and down. His silent sobs crush my heart as I rub my hand over his back. All he wants is to help people, and this is what we’ve done.

“Sejanus-“ My voice breaks. I try to comfort him. I want to explain that this isn’t our fault, that we could’ve never predicted what would’ve happened, but the lie I almost vocalize forces even worse cries from the pits of my stomach, and I can’t find the space to speak in between the sobs and quick breathes I attempt to take. This is entirely our fault.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“He’s gonna miss Lucy Gray’s interview,” I note, standing to watch as Caesar Flickerman introduces his songbird.

Tigris and Grandma’am follow close behind me.

“Well let me quit my jabbering and introduce the real star of the show. Lucy Gray Baird!”

I watch as the beautiful girl, in her newly cleaned rainbow dress approaches the microphone. For a split second, she looks nervous, but in an instant, the anxiety fades into confidence. She slips her hair behind her ear, smiling and waving to the crowd as if it were just another performance back in 12. Coriolanus should be up there with her, but instead, he’s here with us, hospitalized and asleep, in the same state he’s been confined to since the bombing 3 days ago.

“Own it,” I whisper, recalling the advice that she had given to Coryo the day he got locked in the monkey cage along with the rest of the tributes.

“Oh, she will.” Tigris smiles, “How could she not while wearing a clean dress like that!”

Lucy Gray had entrusted Tigris with the duty of tidying up the special dress she had worn since Reaping Day. It does look beautiful, and I can’t help but grin at the proud arrogance that Tigris finally possesses.

“When I was a babe I fell down in the holler

When I was a girl I fell into your arms. We fell on hard times and we lost our bright color.

You went to the dogs and I lived by my charms. I danced for my dinner, spread kisses like honey. You stole and you gambled and I said you should. We sang for our suppers and we drank up our money.

Then one day you left, saying I was no good

Well, all right, I'm bad, but then, you're no prize either. All right, I'm bad, but then, that's nothing new. You say you won't love me, well I won't love you neither.

Just let me remind you who I am to you

'Cause I am the one who looks out when you're leaping. And I am the one who knows how you were brave. And I am the one who knows what you said sleeping, I'll take that and more when I go to my grave.

It's sooner than later that I'm six feet under It's sooner than later that you'll be alone. So who will you turn to tomorrow, I wonder, For when the bell rings, lover, you're on your own

For when the bell rings, lover, you're on your own I am the one who you let see you weeping I know the soul that you struggle to save.

Too bad I'm the bet that you lost in the reaping. Now what will you do when I go to my grave?”

As Lucy Gray finishes the song everyone had hoped she would sing, tears fill the eyes of each person in the emergency room, including my own.

“That was… beautiful.” Tigris sniffles.

“Lucy Gray surely knows how to put on a show.”

“Coryo!” I gasp, jumping into his arms as he stumbles, almost falling back onto the floor before stabling himself and embracing me with mirrored passion. Though, he could never begin to understand how grateful I am that he’s awake. There would not be a moment during the remainder of my miserable life that I would forgive myself or Sejanus for getting him killed.

“I-“ I begin, my eyes swelling with tears, “Thank you for waking up.”

“It was the least I could do,” He laughs weakly. I finally gain the courage to release him to allow Tigris and the Grandma’am to cherish his awakening.

I turn to face the television screen again, closing my eyes and exhaling the deepest sigh of relief.

I have to come clean. I have to tell Coriolanus about what Sejanus and I did, and what he intends on continuing to do. I haven’t decided whether or not I could bear to resume helping the rebels after what they did, or almost did, to Coryo, but admitting my crimes to him will be the last and final declaration that I am done.

After the pleasantries with his family cease, he places his arms around my neck and traps me in a tight embrace, a cheesy grin plastered on his face.

Oh, how that smile would have faded had he known how he got into this situation in the first place. But for now, I just gratefully accept it, leaning my head onto the side of his, and wrapping my arms around the ones he holds below my neck.

“I heard you sent the peacekeepers after me.”

“And I heard Lucy Gray rescued you from beneath a fiery beam,” I smirk, raising my brows. “I suppose we’re both hearing things.”

“Suppose so.”

His gaze lingers on mine, or rather mine on his. I’ve never been so thankful to see those annoyingly piercing blue eyes and perfect locks of blonde hair. “Can you guys give us a moment?” I turn back to Tigris, who nods with a smile and immediately grabs the Grandma’am’s hand, both of them taking their leave. “So,” I smile anxiously, untangling his hands from my body and moving to sit in the same waiting chair I’ve sat in for the past 48 hours.

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know how to say this-“ My words tremble, threatening to collapse at any moment.

“Are you alright?” He quickly takes a seat on his hospital bed, truly interested in whatever I may say next. I can visibly see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to piece together what I’ll say next before I’m granted the words to say it.

I also, try to construct my next sentence before saying it aloud, not sure how to tell him it’s my fault he almost got killed. I don’t waste time apologizing and try my best to blink back the tears that now gloss my eyes. He doesn’t care about this performance I feel as though I’m putting on, I just-

“I think I’ve involved myself with the rebels,” I whisper, almost inaudible.

“You- what?”

“I know.” I correct, “I know I’ve involved myself with the rebels. I-“ Tears descend my cheeks, but I ignore their presence, as does Coriolanus, “I put the bombs in the area.”

He stared at me, eyes wide in confusion.

“You?”

“I wanted to tell you this morning,” I whimper, “That I regretted it, that I needed your help to fix my mistakes but I was so scared Coryo-“

“No-“ He stands, backing away from me. “You can’t- you shouldn’t have- do you understand the position you’ve just trapped me in?” His voice slightly raises before he registers the darted glances being sent toward himself, “You’ve involved me just as much as you’ve involved yourself by telling me this! What do you expect me to do? Report you?”

“No- Well- maybe that’s what I expected you to do but I hoped you wouldn’t!”

“And Sejanus?” He orders, “I’m sure your little vitiated district boyfriend is the one who dragged you into this mess?”

As much as I would like to blame anyone but myself in this moment of vulnerability, I can’t.

“He was the one who begged me to stay out of it,” I mutter, eyes peering to the floor.

“Why-“

“Shhh!” A nearby nurse shushed, uses a single remote to collectively heighten the volume of all five televisions in the room.

“And one last message before we let you all go for the night!” Caesar Flickerman announces gleefully, he touches his earpiece to hear for himself what the announcement may be. His eyes widen with shock, and then fade to melancholy. “Well folks, I’ve just been given word that the 10th annual Hunger Games will still be commencing! In two days, don’t miss it! Thank you all and have a-“

The world around me fades into a blur as my heart sinks to the deepest pits of my stomach. If I had eaten anything more than a few sips of cabbage soup today, I’m sure I would vomit it up at this very moment. I struggle to find air to inhale before the confidence of Coriolanus’ claim snaps me back to reality.

“I presume that’s why you did it? To stop the games?”

“That’s why I did it, yes,” I state blankly.

“But not them?”

“They wanted to irritate the Capital.”

“Us.” He corrects bitterly, “We are the Capital, Lia, they wanted to irritate us, don’t let yourself forget it.”

“It all seems so pointless, now. To irritate the capital, to almost lose you, to become a traitor, for what? For my tribute to be dead, Marcus to be missing, and the games to continue?”

“What?”

“I’ll see you at home, Coriolanus.” I push myself out of my chair, leaving him alone in the dullness of the hospital room.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

I wipe my tear-filled eyes, though I’m sure the red and puffiness of them is not concealable.

“You should’ve known better.” Coriolanus reprimands for the tenth time this morning. I desperately long for our walk to the Academy together, where we’ll be in public and he can’t shame me any longer. “I mean really, what were you thinking?”

“That I could make a difference, Coryo. Is that so hard to digest?”

“You need to stay away from Sejanus. He’s filling your mind with these fantasies! That’s all they are!” He slams his bag down on the kitchen counter, stuffing it full of the few snacks he was able to collect for Lucy Gray, “You think that these creatures are like us and they’re not. They are district, you are Capital!”

“We’re people! Is Lucy Gray a creature? I see how you look at her Coriolanus. How your gaze lingers on her from across the room. You’re the creature! You’re a venomous snake who’s going to squeeze the life out of that poor songbird and I’m not going to be around to see it!”

“You almost got me killed, Magnolia.” He shouts. “And I’m the creature?”

“You’re going to wake the others up.” I deflect, knowing Tigris didn’t get much sleep last night. She hasn’t slept since the bombing, too worried for Coryo. Of course, he doesn’t give a damn about her or anyone else who has the displeasure of knowing him.

“You know what? You’re right!” He exclaims, refusing to change the subject, “You won’t be around to see it, and neither will Sejanus. If neither of you can follow a simple set of instructions or at least pretend to carry the ideology the Capital requires of you then you’ll be hung for your rebel crimes!”

“Coriolanus!” Tigris reprimands, rushing into the room just as he slams the front door behind himself.

I crumble to the floor, burying my head into my bruised knees.

“Oh, Magnolia,” Tigris comforts. She wraps her arms around me in a warm hug, brushing her fingers through my hair as I cry into her shoulder, “He would never report you to anyone for anything. I don’t know what it is that you guys are bickering about but everything shall pass with time. I promise.”

Her quiet assurances and physical touch have transformed my muffled sobs into soft gasps for air that come in waves. She releases me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and kissing the top of my head. “I’m off to work, love, but please don’t take Coryo’s empty threats seriously. He would report you just as soon as reporting me, or Grandma’am.

She grabs her purse and quickly rushes out of the door as if she were not half an hour late to work because of me.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The chill of the fresh morning air has turned the apartment damp, the humidity causing me to sweat due to our broken ventilation system.

I pick myself up from the floor, dragging my feet to the miraculously functioning phone that hangs next to the doorway that connects the kitchen and living room.

Today is the mentors' last day with their tributes before they’re thrown into the Arena and forced to become the creatures everyone believes them to be. The only people who have no purpose of reporting to the Academy are Androcles, Guis Breen, Sejanus, and myself, since all of our tributes were killed before the games even started, so I expect they should all be home.

I dial the number Sejanus had me memorize the second he let me involve myself with the Rebels and await the ringing to stop.

“Hello?” A voice deeper than the one Sejanus possesses answers.

“Good..” I drag out, looking at my watch to decipher the time, “Afternoon, Mr Plinth! Is Sejanus home?”

“Sejanus!” He shouts as footsteps patter to the phone, “Here he is.”

“Maggy?” My heart warms, the nickname my mother used to refer to me serving like morphing to the pain. The only time I ever hear the name anymore is in the presence of Sejanus, every other Capital student refusing to call me it. Even Coryo claims that it sounded too district, resulting in my new, more widely used nickname, Lia.

“Sejanus,” I smile, feeling like I’ve been granted a breath of fresh air just through the sound of his voice. I don’t want to spoil the rare happiness and can’t talk about the rebels through our likely monitored phone conversations anyway, “Please come over?”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

The line disconnects and I move to the front door that he meets me at less than ten minutes later. He doesn’t live very close to us, but his car of the latest Capital technology allows him to travel at the highest of speeds, making it here in record-breaking time.

When his knock sounds at the door, I realize that he’s never been inside the Snow apartment before, and wonder if I’m crossing the simplest of lines by having him over.

I shake the thoughts from my head, opening the door and allowing him inside with very little confidence.

“Hey,” He smiles, wrapping his arms around me before closing the door with his leg and following my lead to the living room.

“Maybe we should meet at your house from this point on,” I suggest, shifting uncomfortably as he takes a seat on the cold marble ground next to me. Not a single piece of furniture decorates this bland space except for the TV sitting on a run-down coffee table. Almost all of it was gone upon my arrival, Tigris explaining that it all had to be either sold or thrown into their fireplace amidst the war just to grant them the barest of food and warmth.

“The war hit us, or- them pretty harshly.” He nods considerately, seemingly paying no attention to the interior of the room. “What’s wrong?”

“I just- feel awful.” He sighs, hiding his face in his hands, “Both of our tributes are as good as dead, the Ring twins are in the hospital, we almost killed Coriolanus, and for what? For the games to continue anyways?”

“I know.” I adjust my body to be leaning against the side of his as he slips his hand into mine. I debate whether or not I should tell him about my quarrel with Coriolanus this morning, in turn, admitting to having revealed our part in the Rebel bombing, risking both of our deaths.

“Are you alright?” Sejanus’ gaze lingers on my tear-stained face, his thumb rising to caress my puffy undereyes.

“I just didn’t take the news well, is all.”

“Me neither, it’s just sickening! I barely got any sleep last night, couldn’t close my eyes without picturing Sabyn’s warm lifeless body. The peacekeepers cared more about shooting her dead than helping to keep others alive! And then Marcus! Condemned to a life of torture should he be caught.”

“He won’t be.”

“He will be. He has nowhere to go, no place to hide, and thousands of people on the lookout for him every day. I just hope his death is quick.”

The mood of the room falls flat, neither of us knowing how to recover from such a dim topic so quickly, so neither of us does. Instead, I give in to the heftiness of my eyelids, allowing myself to gain full support from Sejanus’ body as he rests himself against the wall behind us.

He buries his hand in my full head of hair, massaging the migraine he didn’t even know existed until my eyes can’t keep themselves open any longer.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

I startle at the sound of a door slamming shut, barely catching a glimpse of Coriolanus’ hefty blonde curls swooshing from the harsh swing of the door.

I shake Sejanus, who leans against the wall with his head angled up and an arm wrapped protectively around my body.

“Hey- I’m sorry to wake you but I’ll be right back, okay?” I jump to my feet, already starting towards the door, “I’ve gotta- I’ll be right back.”

What time is it?

Through the windows I swiftly pass by, I examine how the sun begins to set over the horizon, estimating how much of the shining circle still soars above the skyline. I approximate it’s about 5 o’clock. meaning we slept for 3 hours.

“Coryo!” I call, catching sight of him shooting down the complex stairs. “Coryo please wait!” How was he off mentor duty so early? I didn’t expect him to arrive back home until at least nine. Not that my unconscious body would’ve known the difference between now and then, but still, it could’ve bought me some time.

Mere inches away from his escape, Coriolanus gets stopped by an older woman, and panting from his long walk he bends down to pick something up that she seems to have dropped.

“Thank you, son.” She breathes feebly as he hands the magazine showcasing Lucy Gray’s face back to her.

“Coriolanus.” I wheeze, “You almost forgot about me!”

“Oh, you too have fun.” The woman knowingly smiles, retreating to her room before we can allow ourselves to speak freely.

“I’m sorry it’s not-“

I slightly anticipate him to make a run for it, but instead, he just extends his arm, willing me to wrap mine around it, and continues walking through the front doors of the apartment complex, leaving me utterly speechless.

“What was Sejanus Plinth doing inside of the Snow house?”

I begin to plead my case, before truly wondering, what was Sejanus doing? All we had done was confide in each other over our guilty consciencees. Why had I called him in the first place? Knowing the solemnity of our situation, I feel rather dull for allowing him over and realize that I really should’ve listened to Coriolanus.

I watch the gears behind his eyes, turning as he plans out his entire stance in this difficult situation. Will he report me? Will he cause a scene? How will he protect himself from my rebellious mistakes?

Suddenly, I realize how Coriolanus constantly finds himself in such a wide pool of success.

“I want to report him,” I mutter, peering over my shoulder to make sure nobody’s listening to us. He eyes me conspicuously. “There’s nothing to trace his crimes back to me. Not a phone call, not an item, nothing. Only his word against mine.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, a glimpse of hope glimmering in his eyes.

“I’m sure. And if the Capital discovers my part in the bombing,” I pause, bracing myself, “I’ll be hung and that will be that.”

The statement itself sends shivers down my spine, threatening to turn my legs into jello, I won’t allow that to happen. Nor will I let them hang Sejanus. He’s never belonged in this district and he’s helped me realize that neither do I. I’ll come with Coriolanus to report Sejanus on my terms, hopefully buying us enough time to escape this hell before they can tie his noose.

“What caused this sudden change of heart?”

“I realized in my time spent with him today, that not only is he a danger to our home, but he’s a danger to me as well. I never meant to get involved as much as I did and can’t continue to risk my entire being just to help him any longer. He’s chosen his life.”

Coriolanus nods approvingly. “All these years, he’s longed for us to forget where he came from. Wanted us to pretend he was one of us, and it wasn’t to spite him that we couldn’t. It was his attitude that didn’t allow us to see past him being district.” I smile in genuine agreement, reminiscing on my absolute favorite trait that Sejanus possesses, and find myself almost envious. Sejanus never let the Capital ruin him.

“Well, not everyone can live up to Capital standards. Most capital born won’t ever amount to us.”

He chuckles, the security of having Coriolanus by my side numbing the previous helpless feeling.

“I’ll tell Dr Gaul everything I know and pray she takes my information for what it is, and nothing more. Sejanus will be hung, and he will die, along with the troubles he poisons our lives with.”

“So you blame him entirely for your little rebellion phase?”

“Well, I believe everyone has to dip their foot into the other puddle before you truly stop wondering if it’s clearer, Sejanus just helped to mud the dirt.”

I almost feel guilty for talking about Sejanus in this manner, though I speak in gallons of truth, hiding drops of lies amongst them. Coryo isn’t stupid he’s one of the brightest people I know, emotionally and intelligently. Something inside of him just knows things, and a full lie can’t deceive him, but an almost truth might. I do believe that you’ll never stop longing for rebellion until you try it for yourself, but what I don’t tell Coriolanus, is that I also believe that sometimes you might find that the puddle in question is clearer. A clearer, bigger, better, more humane puddle that can save you from everything that burdens you in life may just be waiting for you to dip your foot in, and when you do you’ll never rid of the dirt.

So yes, though Sejanus is to fault for my rebellion phase, and I blame him entirely, I owe him nothing short of my life for it.

The sun is no longer brightening the sky by the time we reach the citadel. I wonder if Doctor Gaul will even be here so late in the night, but Coryo seems certain she will be.

“We’d like to speak with Doctor Gaul.” He tells the peacekeeper guarding the elevator, “It’s urgent.”

The peacekeeper touches the side of his head, seemingly listening in to orders from his earpiece.

“Go ahead. Level -10.” He scans his card and the elevator dings open, inviting us inside. As soon as we’ve both stepped through the door, it slams shut and plummets down, hitting our destination in under ten seconds flat.

“Are you alright?” Coriolanus assures, slightly winded himself.

“Yeah.”

We step into the overbearingly white laboratory, passing cages filled with different failed Capital mutations. I stand as close to the center of the aisle as I can, avoiding a personal view of the enclosures as I brush against Coriolanus’s protective build.

“Pitter patter, the blood goes splatter, and a rebel fought war will be lost i’m….” She trails off.

“Sure.” Coriolanus finishes, “Will be lost, I’m sure.”

She turns to face us from her platform, clapping delightedly. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Does she know why we’ve come? Or is it just an ordinary day in the laboratory when she makes up unnerving Rebel rhymes?

“What for?” I inquire, confidently.

“Coriolanus owes me a paper.”

I turn to him and he nods as if in remembrance, “Yes, I do, though that’s not why we’ve decided to visit.”

“Then what’s the cause?”

He falls back, signaling for me to take full control of the situation, something he doesn’t offer up very often.

“You’re familiar with the mentor, and student, Sejanus Plinth, are you not?”

“I am.”

“Well, I deeply regret to inform you that he’s been,” I falter, unable to phrase my accusation, “dealing with rebels.”

“Oh?” She grins viciously, descending the steps of her platform and approaching Coriolanus and me.

“I know not entirely of his Rebel associations, but am certain that he aided them in the planting of bombs in the arena.”

Her piercing green eyes inspect every aspect of my face, searching for a hint of what emotion I must be feeling.

After a long moment, she finally declares, “We had our suspicions. Though, it is improbable that he was working alone. Are you informed of any other rebels hidden amongst the Capital?”

“No ma’am.”

“Coriolanus?”

“Hadn’t a clue that rebels were still amid the Capital until today.” He almost truths.

“Well, you must’ve assumed.”

“I could’ve.” He considers, “Though it entirely slipped my mind.”

“Well,” She smiles, “Thank you for your confirmation. Your sacrifice means a great deal to your Capital, and I hope you will inform us of any information you may come across in the future.”

“Of course,” I return warmly, “Good night, Dr Gaul.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Our walk back home was too silent, almost eerily. We had barely made it back to the apartment when a storm of peacekeepers rushed past and I remembered the vulnerable state that I left Sejanus in. Half asleep, and in my own home without a single advance on what I was planning.

What if they already found him? What if his noose is being tied as we speak? What if-

“Everything alright?” Coriolanus incredulously pesters.

“Yep.”

That is all I can manage. Something feels very wrong. An anxiety-induced hole bubbles in the pits of my stomach as I try to maintain my composure. Coriolanus can’t know that I’m worried about Sejanus… or maybe I could play into that role. An innocent friend who knows she’s done the right thing but still can’t seem to digest the gravity of the situation. Will he think me weak? Will he believe a word I say?

I consider the performance I may execute, before realizing how similar to Coriolanus I feel in this very moment. Calculating, gears turning, trying to analyze every piece of my affairs while simultaneously attempting to feed the impression of innocence.

Is Coriolanus performing? Pretending to believe and support every lie I present him with just to double back at the last second? Or does he have no concept of the truth behind my motives?

I liven my pace, acting as though out of pure interest though really in concern for Sejanus’ well-being, and desire to escape the constant agonizing burden that is Coriolanus Snow.

I hear his feet patter behind me, the tempo of his steps quickening as mine accelerate. He’s chasing me. He knows. He knows that I never intended on allowing Sejanus to be hung for his- our crimes, and he doesn’t intend on his life being spared.

I’m full-fledged sprinting now, desperately dodging people as well as random rubble that lines the streets. Am I trying to save Sejanus or escape Coryo? Either way, I don’t relent, darting through the electric doors of our apartment complex and shooting up the stairs. He’s on my tail, a mere arm's length away as I shove into the Snow household and startle awake.

I lay strapped to a hospital bed in the overly white laboratory room. Blinking in owlish incomprehension, I slightly tilt my head as much as the big machine attached to it will permit, and squint my eyes to make out an unconscious Sejanus, the top of his scalp removed entirely from his head as a machine scans his brain.

My head pounds and the blinding lights force my eyes shut, i’m left blind as hands prod at different pieces of my limbs.

I squirm disobediently in my best attempts to be free of the shackles I’ve worn for the past 3 days. For a mere moment the memories come flooding back as tears descend my cheeks.

The night that Sejanus and I had chosen to plant bombs in the arena, had coincidentally been the same night Coriolanus had wanted to sneak in for himself, in search of good hiding places for Lucy Gray. None of which existed until the bombs went off- except they never did. Coriolanus turned on us before anyone else had ever unsafely entered the place.

I recall seeing the gears turning in his mind as he toyed with the though of giving us a second chance, but he never did like how personal my relations were with him. How familiar I was with his way of thought, or how close I was to discovering his genuine self.

Now they spend their days testing our brains, digging through our memories, warping them for research, trying to find the rebels who gave us the bombs in the first place. But whoever granted them to us made sure they could never be traced. They knew we were likely to fail, it’s almost as if they willed it to happen.

A needle jabs through my shoulder, morphing soothing the headache that I felt only moments ago, as the world fades away along with the remembrance of Sejanus and I’s new reality.

Upon entering the room, I find an unconscious Sejanus, sleeping exactly where I left him, entirely oblivious to the tragedy that almost awaited us and exhale a sigh of relief.

#tbosbas #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #sejanus plinth #sejanus x reader #the hunger games #snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #lucy gray baird #tigris snow #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #writers #tbosbas fanfiction #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #fanfiction

63 notes · View notes

probablyhuntersmom · 1 year

Text

Thinking out loud...I'm both relieved that Hunter wasn't singled out by The Collector to go through these horrors...yet ofc curious what it may've looked like.

Nonetheless, his mind would be unleashing nightmares upon him even after Belos's death.

C-PTSD nightmares seem to have three flavours (going off my own experience..this isn't textbook or researched, as a disclaimer).

There are two kinds that have the theme of immediate danger.

First is the type where you yourself are being physically threatened. I don't want to choose the more graphic violent ones for this post but an example I can cite is being arrested and thrown into prison. Those got me on pretty high alert and idk, it was like this I guess:

Second would be the ones where you can't save someone else. Those hurt and yes, they pack a nasty punch. I've only had this type once as far as I can remember. But poor Hunter would have it worse since Belos could literally puppet him to be the one to harm the best friend he loved most:

The relational ones, though? That involve being blamed and/or abandoned, with no physical threats? Those are where you are in touch with the shame, which in a way makes it the worst of all three in my opinion. Because the deep sense of shame is the aspect of the condition which you can't reason your way out of using impersonal logic...in the way that you can e.g. come up with an escape plan or hold off an assailant.

The most memorable one was being in a dark room, almost entirely pitch black, seeing my 5 or 6-year-old self looking at me like this:

and because you just know stuff in dreams, I knew she was demanding an answer from me, as to why I wasn't there for her to protect her.

And holy smokes this was freakier than the first two categories. Because I had no adrenaline in my system, and somehow this third kind of dream always takes place in narrow spaces where I can't sprint and run elsewhere. Brainnnn, whyyyy?? Therefore I couldn't even give myself an adrenaline rush from fleeing anyway if I wanted to. (Idk if anyone else experiences this?) The first two kinds always took place in wide spaces e.g. underground parking lots and forests.

A similar nightmare involved an abusive family member whom I was trapped on a small boat with, and I had to listen to him demean and minimize me all over again while I was stuck, and I somehow didn't make myself just jump off the boat to swim away.

This type of nightmare is the one that can get me upset for hours after I wake from them, while with the others I get out of the shock a lot quicker for some reason.

For Hunter...it would involve Belos, other Grimwalkers, his friends and others such as those he previously worked with in the Castle, blaming him and judging him in his nightmares. Worst is if Flapjack does the same to him and rejects him. And I apologize for this angsty train ride but...but...he might see those poor lost palismen all over again, since it points towards the profession we see him thriving in, during the epilogue sequence...:

*drags this lost child to therapy sessions*

So yeah. The first two kinds are a more straightforward fit with how C-PTSD changes a person's neural networks and primes them to act relatively calmly in actual physical crises. The high price paid is, the person therefore struggles once things become safer (e.g. arguing with someone who is actually a safe presence), in some twisted unfair form of compensation. This is seen in how Hunter's triggers properly emerge once he's actually physically distanced from Belos: Labyrinth Runners and For the Future are the main examples.

It is painful and difficult, only becoming easier once the person has built a solid support network and can repair their own relationship with themselves.

In fact, my body sometimes feels as though I strangely want such a thrill e.g. riding in an ambulance all over again, a re-enactment of those times of high alert, because they are still more 'comfortable': rather than having no choice but to experience and accept that ingrained sense of shame, process it, and ride the wave instead of simply throwing a punch at it or evading it. Wanting that thrill is our equivalent of wanting a "fix", I guess.

Safe to say, this is why the canon Watching and Dreaming moments that hit hardest are the (false) blaming statements that Luz's friends direct at her. Because the ultimate test is whether the dreamer believes those or not.

#toh hunter #hunter's cptsd #the owl house #okay to reblog. I was just rambling #get the boi all the hot cocoa

163 notes · View notes

msbarrybeeson · 2 years

Text

First Encounter (Raph X Reader)

A/N: Hey hey, I’ve returned. I took some time to visit New York, and gosh, if only there were actual mutant turtles to come and save me from the most disgusting streets I’ve ever seen. But that rant is up for another time.

I decided to write something for Rise!Raph. Personal thought for a second: I adore the change in his personality, compared to other versions. I’m more into “red means passionate and impulsive” than “red means anger.” Constructive criticism is appreciated and enjoy!

Summary: Raph finally met an animal that didn’t hate him. The animal was actually your missing pet.

Reader: Gender-neutral pronouns if anything. Second-POV pronouns are used.

Word Count: ~1090

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Some mentions of kidnapping or pet-napping.

The earliest he met you would have to be when you were searching for your missing pet. It scurried out quickly the moment you opened your door.

Raph was on his night patrol, while his brothers were elsewhere.

As of late, noone tried to murder them, so things felt monotonous.

He sat down off the edge of a building, looking at passing cars and people.

And then, Raph heard a trash bag tumble.

“Finally! Sounds like something’s about to go down toni—.”

In an alleyway, your pet wandered with sadness in its lost eyes.

Oh boy, Raph’s heart ached.

He jumped down, startling your pet with a THUMP.

“Hey there, fella,” the snapping turtle cooed, leaning on his knees. “Don’t worry, Raph won’t hurt ya.”

Your pet stood in place for a while, staring at Raph. It made him nervous, because while he claimed animals love him, do they really?

“Come on, come to Raph-y.” He gestured with his hand. Your pet stepped closer, interested in this giant turtle. And for the moment of his life, it reached for his hand and nuzzled.

Raph’s eyes widened, and his mouth curled into a huge smile.

This was proof that he has a chance with animals!

He proceeded to scratch its head gently. “I love you too, buddy. Yes, I do. Yes, I do~.” It looked like it returned his smile. Maybe, Raph thought to himself, maybe this is the chance for me to adopt!

“(Pet Name)! Where are you?!”

Raph froze. A human? Looking for something?

He glanced behind him for a second and back to the animal in front of him. No, rather, some-pet. Raph couldn’t believe it; the one time he befriended an animal, it turned out to be someone else’s pet.

A part of him wanted to pet-nap it.

“Whoa, whoa, Raph. You can’t just pet-nap it!” Mind-Raph exclaimed.

“I can’t help it. This is a milestone for me!”

“Look, as much as you like animals, you can’t just make someone else feel terrible about losing their pet. You’ll always have another chance, big guy.” Mind-Raph pat Raph’s back before vanishing.

The snapping turtle groaned. “Never a good day—.” WHACK! Raph was knocked off his feet.

“Get away from my pet, you creep!” you yelled, picking it up. “I know how to use my bag, so don’t you dare try me.”

“W-Woah! Hold on, this is just a big misunderstanding—.”

“I’m seeing everything clearly. You were standing there for a good minute, thinking about whether you should pet-nap (Pet Name)!”

Did he seriously take so long to think!? Raph winced. “Maybe— no, I mean— I was just walking by and I thought he was lost—.”

“He? (Pet Name)’s a she.”

“Right.” Raph winced again. “My bad.

But I was only thinking about whether I should knock on people’s doors, or put up a found dog poster, or—.”

“What even are you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who dress up in a weird costume to lure and kidnap kids too, are you?” Your grip tightened on your shoulder bag, and Raph well noticed it. “I’ve had enough of—!”

“A mutant ninja turtle!”

You stopped midway in swinging your bag. “...What?”

“Just a mutant ninja turtle!” Raph panicked, waving his hands and all. “Not wearing a costume! Was up on a roof until I heard a trash bag fall over. Then, I saw your pet. I admit, your pet’s really, really adorable. I didn’t mean to make you suspicious. It’s just that I’ve never had any animal be so loving around me—!”

You laughed.

Raph suddenly slowed down. “—and I was gonna... leave it.”

Your hand covered your mouth. “Really, you’re a ‘mutant ninja turtle?’” You continued to laugh. “I’m sorry, the way you blurted it out is so random.”

Raph had no words.

“Fine, I believe you for now.” You crossed your arms. “A panicked speaker is always worth some trust— (Pet Name)?”

Oh god. Did you let go? You quickly scanned around, hoping that she wouldn’t run off on you again. To your surprise, your pet was right by Raph’s foot, snuggling against him.

Even the snapping turtle himself didn’t notice until then. And Raph tensed up.

“H-Hold on... before you—.”

“Relax, I’m not going to swing my bag again.” Your voice softened. “Looks like she does like you a lot.”

You stepped a bit closer to Raph, eyes still on your pet. “She’s very sensitive about others. Only gets near whoever is a good person. So for her to—,” you paused, meeting eyes with the snapping turtle, “—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made those assumptions and... hit you.”

Raph watched your expression. There wasn’t anger or bitterness. Instead, there was sincerity on your face. “You’re good. You trust her that much, huh?”

“I know when I should give someone a chance.” You smiled, throwing Raph off guard.

“Oh, and I should probably pay you back for earlier,” you said, picking up your pet again. “I.. do know a good pizza place we could order from. How about it?”

“...” He blinked.

“You.. may need to say something, so I know if you’re good with that.”

“...” He slowly nodded.

“Nice. We should probably meet up another day for it. I have finals coming up soon,” you explained. “Is there a way I can contact you?”

Raph reached for his phone and showed you his number.

You were kind of unsettled by how quiet he was, but his profile picture of Jupiter Jim reassured you. You even chuckled.

“Thanks.” You punched in the numbers and returned the device. “I’ll see you soon, ‘Raph.’ Or maybe ‘mutant ninja turtle.’” You walked off with another smile.

...

And just like that, he was left in the alleyway with a couple of questions. A blush grew on him, and he found himself crossing his arms to “cover” his beating heart. Gosh, was it your smile?

Were you also into Jupiter Jim?

How come he had never seen you before?

Hold on, did you still think he was a human in a costume?

Bonus Bits:

Raph develops a fear of your bag now.

April easily figured out that Raph has a crush on someone from his inability to hide his emotions.

Apparently, you and April are close. So when you tell her about an experience with a ‘mutant turtle in a red bandana,’ she connects the dots.

You come to realize that Raph is an actual mutant turtle when he refuses to enter the pizza restaurant with you.

#rottmnt raph #rise raph #raphael #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #april o'neil #reader insert #reader imagine #headcanon #raph x reader #raph

782 notes · View notes

notyour-valentine · 2 years

Note

Hello Val!!

How are you doing? Congratulations on reaching 1k! ✨

Can I request a Tommy blurb with this prompt?

“I want to understand you.”

I’m sure you’ll create something amazing 🥰 xx

An Understanding ~ Dad!Tommy Shelby (Fluff)

[Celebration] [Celebration Masterlist] [Masterlist]

Warning: Babies? (18/21+). I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Words: 1039 words

By now, one would think Thomas Shelby was used to these situations.

He knew the rush, the feeling of his blood pumping and his mind racing at a hundred miles an hour.

If one had the luxury of a warning, one had to use it wisely - such quarter wasn’t easily given but far too quickly squandered.

It had started with the slightest of sounds, but Tommy knew it all too well by now. Small at first, but it was only the beginning, like the first droplets of rain before the storm would come.

Immediately wide awake, he had jumped out of bed and rushed out to the adjourning room before the woman next to him could stir.

"Shh, shh!", He soothed, even before he reached the crib, making sure to close the door behind him that usually was always open.

The baby was squirming inside, little legs kicking in frustration, with swollen and red cheeks and a face torn in agony.

“Oh love.”, he sighed as he reached inside, supporting the little head.

While cradling the child against his chest, he reached inside the cot and retrieved the little blanket before fleeing the nursery for the silence of the corridor.

It was a small thing, embroidered at the edges with rather clumsy needlework, but what it lacked in skill it made up for with the love that laced every stitch.

They reached the corridor just in time as outright cries began to replace the restless groans and sniffles.

Tommy rushed down the stairs as quickly as he dared with the baby in his arms, thankful he had the means to put so much distance between the crying baby and it’s mother.

Once downstairs in the sitting room, he breathed a small sigh of relief because at least they were out of earshot by now.

It was short lived, though, as the baby began to cry again, making him feel the burn of warm tears against his bare chest.

“What was it?”, Tommy asked, rocking the child back and forth.

“Was your room a bit chilly?”, he asked.

He hadn’t noticed a drop of temperature but he would have to check once it was safe to go up again. Things like that could happen all too quickly in times like these.

He checked the nappy but that was still good too. And yet the baby kept crying.

In an effort to spread some sense of calm, Tommy placed his chin on the top of the little head, humming softly.

But it did little to stifle the wails. They were just as noisy and just as piercing as earlier.

So it couldn’t be lack of attention or a mean midnight scare.

Not warmth either, not when the baby was held between his bare chest and that blanket.

Tommy shifted, allowing himself to look into the tear streaked face.

Gently, he stroked a few droplets aside.

“What is it, eh?”, he wanted to know.

The only response he got was another heart wrenching sob.

He had always hated the sound of a baby’s tears, not because he found them annoying, but because it sent a rush through his body to sooth them, to help and to comfort.

Nothing, not those countless hours with Anna, Michael of even baby Finn had prepared him for the heartbreak of hearing his own baby cry.

"Want to tell me?", he tried once more.

When he brushed his finger over one of the tear stained cheeks, the baby leaned into his touch, still wailing as if there was no tomorrow.

“Love, I want to understand you.”, he sighed, “but you have to give me more than that. Otherwise I’ll have to get Mummy.”

And that was the last thing he wanted to do.

He had heard the women talking about the different types of baby cries, which Ada and Polly had only ever confirmed, and she could probably figure it out at once, but he really didn’t want to have to wake her.

The days with a young baby were long, and the nights longer still.

Carrying a child, giving birth and nursing - these were all strains Tommy could not help with, but he was determined to do his absolute best when it came to nighttime duties. A few more hours of sleep weren’t the world, but it was the least he could do.

He wiped at the tears again, only to have his finger caught and immediately brought to the baby’s mouth.

The sucking was immediate and forceful, the scars of his split knuckles bushed against those pink petalled lips.

The baby sucked and sucked, and when there was no release in the light of a disappointment, Tommy huffed.

“No milk but you keep sucking, so you’re not hungry then.”

His baby was smarter than that.

Then he remembered something and brushed his finger against the baby’s gums only to see the little head flinch.

“Your gums, is it?”, he asked. “Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

He thought of giving the baby a droplet of whisky - that had calmed Finn, but he knew a certain someone who’d have his head on a silver platter if he did that.

“We could just not tell her.”, he thought, his eyes wandering to the crystal carafe once more, but he hated lying to her unless it was absolutely necessary so he had to find something else. And he knew just where.

The kitchen was pitch black when he entered, and the chill of the ice box made goosebumps appear all over his arms and back.

He muttered a curse under his breath as he gathered a handful of cubes with his bare hand and threw them into a bowl before letting a little water run over it.

“Shh, shh, nearly there.”, he soothed the fussy baby as he waited for a few moments before dipping a clean cloth into icy water.

The cold stung as he wrapped the soaking cloth around his finger but it was a pain he just had to bear.

Compared to the icy water, the warm lips felt almost soothing as his baby began to suck once more.

They repeated the process again and again, Tommy leaning against the kitchen counter and before the ice was fully melted, he felt the weight of a sleepy little head resting against his chest.

“I knew we’d come to an understanding in the end."

Thank you so much @look-at-the-soul for requesting and participating in my celebration - I hope you liked where I went with it, and who knows, perhaps it is not what you expected?

Thank you everyone for reading and as always, I hope you enjoyed and would love to hear your thoughts!

If you want to participate in my celebration, click here!

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight @lilyevanswhore @polishcrazyone @zablife @just-a-harmless-patato @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend

Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @signorellisantichrist @lespendy @geeksareunique @look-at-the-soul

#valentines1k #valentineswritings #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #ask me to dance #tommy shelby fluff #thomas shelby fluff

463 notes · View notes

storiesofsvu · 11 months

Text

Love Comes Quietly Ch 10

Alex Blake x reader warnings: language, alcohol, smut.

You’d taken Alex’s go bag, dumping laundry from both it and yours into the washing machine before dropping hers in her room and retreating back to your own room to refill toiletries and repack clothes to make sure you were ready when the next case hit. As you were pulling out socks your eyes landed on the swimsuit collection in your drawer and Emily’s words floated back into your brain. It was Thursday, normally a night like tonight would mean a glass of wine followed by bed but considering Emily had the team working rather late she’d made the call to come into work for noon. Which meant you had a little bit of leeway with how the rest of your night went.

You could hear Alex puttering around out in the kitchen, you figured she was either putting a drink together or making lunch for tomorrow considering you’d already eaten. You tugged your lip into your mouth, fingers flitting through the swim suits until you revealed the red one. Emily was right, it did make your tits look fantastic and you hadn’t worn it since moving to DC since it was one of the more revealing suits. You had to admit, your body was rather stiff after sleeping in the hotel bed, a soak could help, what was the harm if you just happened to stroll past Alex on your way out?

Alex had pulled out a couple of containers of frozen stir fry, placing them in the fridge for lunch on Friday when she noticed a container of strawberries that looked like they were about to go bad. For some reason her first thought was to toss them in with some wine, liquor and juice for sangria and she figured why the hell not. She’d just finished the jug of it, filling a cup with ice to pour one out for herself when she heard your footsteps coming down the hallway from behind her.

“You don’t mind if I use the hot tub do you?” You asked, “my back’s a bit of a mess from that bed.”

“I might join you; those beds were terrible.” She replied with a soft groan, the ache in her lower back seeming to sink in now that she was thinking about it, “sangria?” She asked, finally turning to face you and she all about choked on her drink as she took a sip, her eyes raking up your body and she knew her cheeks were red. “That’s… a new suit.”

“Haven’t worn it in a while.” You shrugged, “and yeah, that looks great.” You walked up to the island, leaning against it and Alex had to tear her eyes away from your chest, perky and pressed even higher by the way you had your arms crossed, “did you make this? I didn’t see a bottle in the fridge.”

“Yeah.” She shot you a half smile, desperately attempting to hold eye contact and not look elsewhere, “easy way to use fruit that’s about to turn.” She slid you a glass and you picked it up, taking a sip.

“Mmm. Delicious.” You pushed off the island, “well, you know where to find me.” With a soft grin you turned, sauntering your way out to the back yard and Alex caught herself staring at your ass, the heat shifting from her cheeks to between her legs.

“Jesus…” she muttered to herself, shaking her head as she tried to get the image of you in that suit out of her brain.

She heard the soft splash of the water from outside and was starting to wonder if maybe a cold shower was a better idea than joining you. She could still feel your lips on hers, taste you on her tongue, her body burning where your hands had trailed across her skin. She nearly jumped when her phone went off, buzzing on the counter and she swiped open a text from Emily.

‘Good work tonight Blake. Added benefit, maybe that kiss helped sort some things out?’

‘If by sorted things out you mean I feel like a horny teenager, then yeah, completely sorted.’

‘It’s a nice night out, go soak in the hot tub and clear your mind.’

Alex rolled her eyes and let out a huff. On any other night that’s likely exactly what she would have done, she often spent evenings out there watching the stars to help sort out her thoughts but Emily had no idea what was going on at the house. She glanced out into the yard for a moment before downing her sangria, if she was going to make a choice, she had to make it now.

You glanced up at the sound of the screen door sliding open, smiling up at Alex who almost audibly swore and the sight of your skin glistening in the moonlight, just enough of your chest exposed above the surface. She tossed her towel onto one of the loungers, placing her drink down by the edge of the tub, letting out a satisfied groan as she slipped under the water.

“See, right choice.” You greeted with a chuckle and she nodded.

“You think that for even just one trip they’d book us in at a hotel that didn’t have bricks for beds.”

“They gave us a jet.” You laughed, “I don’t think we’ll be getting much of anything else for the foreseeable future.”

Alex laughed, relaxing back into the seat as she let the water swirl around her, breaking down the stiffness of her muscles and the heat calmed her. It was quiet for a bit, just a playlist echoing from your phone as the two of you wound down from your week, your double case day, trying to think of anything but the feeling of the other’s lips on your skin. There was some small talk, comments on work, thinking about plans for the upcoming weekend, if Emily was dragging you off on any insane adventures or not. You finished your sangria, letting out a little huff, your lips briefly pouting as you put the empty glass down on the ground. Alex was almost done her second one and she sighed softly,

“I should have brought the pitcher out.” Her lips pursed as she glanced back to the screen door.

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll grab it, I’ve been in longer.”

Before she cold protest you were climbing out of the hot tub, briefly patting at yourself with a towel to avoid getting the kitchen floor too wet. If Alex thought the red bikini was a look from heaven she truly wasn’t prepared for the sight of it now. She could barely tear her eyes away from the way the suit was clinging to your body for dear life, nipples hard in the cool night air, peaking through the fabric and all she could think about was wrapping her lips around them. The brief seconds you were in the house she downed the rest of her drink, trying not to watch as you walked back to the tub, refilling both of your glasses before you slipped back under the water. It didn’t go unnoticed that you were significantly closer to her this time. She chose to distract herself by bringing up work,

“You really do a lot of undercover work in your last unit?” She asked and you shrugged.

“On and off. I was one of the younger ones and one of the only girls, it just kinda slid into my lap.”

“You enjoy it?”

“It’s always hit or miss.” You shot her a grin, “though I’d say tonight was a hit.”

“Really?” She felt her cheeks heat slightly, but the sangria was lowering her inhibitions as she grinned back at you.

“Yeah.” You laughed, glancing your gaze as you felt your own cheeks heat, “you know, I won’t lie... that kiss? Easily top three.”

“Oh c’mon.” It was her turn to laugh, “you don’t have to bullshit me.”

“I’m not. I kinda forgot how to breathe for a minute there. You’ve got skill Blake.”

She blushed at the compliment, letting it sink in as she took another sip of her sangria, “well thank you.” She smiled softly across at you, watching the way you were looking at her, “I can think of one complaint though.”

“Hmm?” Your brow furrowed, head tilting in the adorable way she loved so much.

“It’s a shame we were interrupted.” She figured she was already here, she may as well go ahead and take the plunge, there was basically no risk left at this point.

“Yeah.. it was.” You could practically hear your heart thundering in your ears, occupying yourself with your drink as Alex laughed softly, mirroring your movements before she spoke again.

“Well…there is one benefit of being home, no one here to cut in.”

You cocked a brow at her, wondering how much she really meant was she was saying, or if it was just the heightened sensuality of the entire evening, the alcohol making neither of you really care about anything else. But before you could really even consider thinking about it you were gravitating towards her and her arms were tugging you into her lap. There was only a moment of hesitancy before your hands were cupping her cheeks and your lips were on hers again.

A mutual sigh of relief came from both of you as you relaxed even further into her embrace, her arms slipping around you. One of her hands slid up your back, tangling gently into the loose hairs from your messy updo. You would gladly stay just like this for the rest of the night, lips moving with ease and a familiar rhythm together, kissing Alex was all you needed, wrapped in her arms knowing you were exactly where you were meant to be. Her arm wound tighter around you, pulling you closer to her and her lips parted, eagerly accepting your tongue into her mouth. She let out a soft groan at the fruity taste from your shared drinks, the flavour adding to what she was already familiar with of you. It was almost like she had been waiting for this moment her whole life, that whatever had pulled her to you back in that bookstore all those months ago had ultimately been leading to this.

Feeling the freedom of being in private Alex began to let her hands wander, running down your back, returning under the water, drawing patterns onto your skin while she continued to kiss you like her life depended on it. Her hands slowly trailed up your sides, thumbs ghosting up your stomach until they reached the fabric of your bikini. You rocked ever so lightly toward her and she took that as the go ahead, her thumbs brushing over your nipples and you broke the kiss with a small gasp, your eyes fluttering open, gazing across at her as she did it again. Her nose nudged against yours, kissing you again, softly this time as she cupped at your chest and you groaned into the kiss. Her lips kissed the side of your jaw, her nose bumping your chin to the side so she could press tender kisses into the side of your neck, teeth scraping against your skin. Her hands groped at you again and you let out a soft sigh, your eyes falling shut, nearly grinding down against her. She bit into the crook of your neck, tongue lapping out to soothe the burn before she sucked at your skin, her fingers pinching at your nipples through your suit and you whined.

“Christ...” She muttered, feeling herself flutter around nothing at the noises she was pulling from you already. She nipped at your earlobe, breath hot on your even hotter skin when she spoke, “you’re going to be good for mommy, right?” Your eyes shot open as your head tilted back to look at her, your lips parted and eyes wide at the slight smirk on her lips, the brow raised in your direction.

“Yes.” You nodded, already breathless.

“Good.” She smiled, pinching at your side, “up.”

She nudged at your arm and you immediately obliged, letting her guide you from the hot tub, her arms snaking around your waist again as her lips found yours. She carefully backed you to the lounger, gently laying you down on it as she settled half over you, her hands exploring every inch of your body that she could. Out of the water you began to take advantage of having Alex not trapped against the seat, your hands roaming over her warm skin, ghosting up her front, softly groping at her chest. She moaned into the kiss, mirroring your actions on your body as your legs tangled together, gently rocking towards each other. There wasn’t a care in the world from either of you, you were utterly intoxicated with each other.

Alex craved more, needing to really feel you, her arms wound around you, grabbing your ass, urging you to roll your hips toward her and your breath caught in your throat. A hand slipped between your bodies, cupping you through your bikini, you sighed happily into the kiss and Alex eagerly swallowed it down. Your hips ground down against her hand as she rubbed you a few more times before her fingers toyed with the hem of your bottoms. You nipped at her lip, urging her to keep going and her hand found its way underneath, ghosting over your clit and you whined.

You didn’t want her to have the upper hand, not yet, and as desperate as you were for her to touch you, you were absolutely aching to feel her. So you copied her movements, a hand sliding her bottoms to the side to give you access to her pussy. As your fingers slid through her folds she broke the kiss with a gasp, hips rutting towards the touch and you giggled softly, the grin staying on your lips as your eyes cracked open to watch her. Her thumb flicked at your clit and you whimpered,

“More… please.” It was just over a whisper, but the neediness in your eyes was enough to make Alex smirk, her finger tips spreading your wetness around before two fingers sunk into you and you let out a moan, your eyes falling shut once again.

The world ceased to exist as you toyed with each other, fingers plunging into wetness, curling and pumping with ease, lips searching out one another for messy breathless kisses. All you felt was Alex and all she craved was you, free hands tangling into hair, pulling the other closer, as tight as they could to plunge a tongue into their mouth. Whimpers, whines and moans getting louder with each roll of your hips, fire shooting through your bodies as you began to reach your peaks. Wetness dripping from pussies, thighs clenching together in an attempt for some form of relief, bodies rocking in tandem until you were practically panting into each other’s mouths, the ultimate bliss and pleasure settling over you as Alex kissed you softly. Her hand slipped from beneath your suit, gently smoothing back a piece of your mussed up hair and you tugged her closer to you as she kissed you. Her tongue lazily sneaking into your mouth, surging against yours until she broke the kiss, the fire prevalent in her eyes as she looked down at you.

“I need to really see you, let’s get you inside, hmm?”

All you could do was nod, catching her hand in yours as she tugged you up from the lounger and inside the house. Once the patio door was shut behind you it was a flurry of movement and kisses to get you into her room, hands swiftly undoing knots, pushing swimsuit parts off to reveal more skin. Alex snuck into the bedside table and before you knew it she was strapped before you and it was a sight that made you weak in the knees.

She dropped onto the bed, settling on her back, pulling you to her, “oh you sweet girl,” she purred, “how about you come ride mommy’s cock? I want to see those gorgeous tits bounce.”

There was absolutely no hesitation as you climbed onto the bed, leaning over her to kiss her again, tongues nearly battling for dominance as you lined up the toy with your cunt. Sitting up you slipped Alex’s cock into you, sinking down until your hips met hers and you let out a satisfied moan, taking in the feeling of being stretched and so full by her before you began to move. Braced on your knees you raised yourself up until just the tip was left inside you and you started to bounce in her lap, sinking all the way down with each thrust.

The sight of you blissed out combined with the way the base of the toy was pressing on her clit was more than enough to start to bring Alex to her peak yet again. She watched the way your tits swayed, the way your eyes fluttered shut at the sensations, how your hands danced around your body, sliding over your bare skin, pinching at your nipples, grazing across your throat and felt herself pulse. You were an absolute dream and the noises you were making were only urging her on further. She couldn’t resist touching you, her hands sliding up your waist, aching to get her mouth on your tits she sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist as she surged forward. You gasped at the angle, her cock now reaching even deeper inside of you and you could feel the ridges dragging across every inch you desired. Her hips continued to thrust up into you, pulling gasps and moans from you while her lips latched onto your chest, sucking and biting at the tender flesh.

“Oh god Alex…”

“Feel good darling?” She murmured, her words hot on your skin and you let out a whimper.

“Ye- yes mommy…oh fuck!” You let out a yelp when she bit into your skin, your arms tightening around her as heat coursed through your body, pleasure building tighter and tighter. You’d never felt like this before, your skin prickling, body nearly trembling in her arms as Alex fucked you deeper with each push of her hips.

Her lips kissed up your chest, nipping at your collarbone before she made home in the same crook of your neck as earlier, biting you again before her tongue lapped across the spot. She latched on, sucking at your neck as you moaned, louder with each thrust of her cock. She could feel you vibrating in her arms, feel how fast your pulse was going under her mouth, hear how your words were becoming more broken by moans, gasps and breathless whines. She pinched at your nipple, pulling a whimper from you,

“Come for mommy. I know you’re close sweetheart.” She husked into your ear and you felt yourself pulse around her.

“Oh god…oh.. fuck.. fuck!”

Your thighs clenched and you cried out as you felt your juices dribble out around her cock and Alex slowed her thrusts until she sunk into you one last time, her own breathing laboured as she held you to her. You buried your face into the crook of her neck, your breath hot on her skin as your body trembled with pleasure in her arms. Her hands soothed up and down your back slowly, calming you as you came down from your high, her lips softly pressing kisses to your skin.

“Holy shit.” You muttered, a giggle on your lips as you finally pulled your face up, a hand cupping her cheek as you smiled at her, a small laugh etched across her features.

“Worth the wait?” She asked with a smirk and you laughed again, pulling another one from her as you leant down to kiss her gently.

“Fucking absolutely.”

___________________________

@svulife-rl @clarawatson @hbkpop @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @itisdoctortoyousir @temilyrights @alexxavicry @evilregal2002 @alcabots @ladysc @dextur @disneyfan624 @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @prentiss-theorem @happenstnces @whiteberryx @heidss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @emobabeyy @1974-sp @theclassicgaycousin @kalixxa @leftoverenvy @bigolgay @daddy-heather-dunbar r @regalmilfs4me @scorpsik @riveramorylunar @h-doodles @maybe-a-humanbean

#alex blake #alex blake x reader #criminal minds #love comes quietly #alex blake: criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #alex blake fanfic #alex blake series

111 notes · View notes