#but I’m beginning to settle. which I know is bad or whatever but I am so bad at this and I cannot handle this

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 10

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* In-laws (nice ones though!), passing mention of federal agents possessing guns, family dynamics, that one family member that married someone awful, the mystery of Agent Bailey begins to unravel, discussion of life in the public eye, planning for the future, discussion of collaring. Summary: After a rather dramatic birthday, heading to Texas to meet Marcus's family seems like a walk in the park. Notes: I am 100% certain that I have missed errors this week, loves. But alas, ya girl is back to working five days a week and she is SO tired. ✌ Please enjoy the chaos that is the Pike extended family!

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9

The flight from Washington DC to Dallas is just over three hours long and you had agreed that it would be better to leave early in the morning on Saturday to arrive at his family's compound before lunchtime. The last two weeks have been a dream as you and Marcus spend basically all of your extra time together, sharing dinners after work and alternating beds for overnight stays. He's even come to his first Friday Night Dinner with your family, which makes it all the more appropriate that you're now flying with him to meet his.

Airline points used, Marcus was well aware that on a commercial flight, Agent Bailey would be much more comfortable with First Class and boarding the plane last. Allowing for the rest of the plane to embark so they were not filing past her and you. Now that the flight is closed and you are settled into your seat, he looks over at you with a smile. "Ready for chaos?" He asks playfully, picking up your hand. "My family is....energetic."

“I’m excited,” you assure him. You’re also nervous, but that’s natural. His big family is having their annual springtime get together for the start of baseball season and — according to Marcus — this is the biggest Pike family get together of the year. It’s a week of pickup games with his cousins, big family meals, revisiting old favorite haunts, and catching up on life. It used to be a way to help distract Marcus and his Mom as his Dad started out the new season every year and started traveling, but now it’s just their favorite reason to get together.

“Don’t feel like you have to do anything you don’t feel like.” Marcus insists. “Plenty of times half the cousins or wives and husbands end up in the stands watching and shit talking.”

“Baby if you think I’m not playing at least one game, you’re nuts.” Marcus has been so sweet about reassuring you and making sure you know nothing is expected of you on this trip, but frankly it just sounds like fun. Like the kind of happy chaos that is a complete break from your normal life.

He flashes you a grin. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He admits shamelessly. “After the games, we grill out or eat whatever we threw on the smoker that morning.” He shrugs. “It’s a party the entire time.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” You have been, and you are, and seeing him get excited would make the whole thing worth it even if you weren’t.

“Everyone is excited to meet you.” He promises. “Oh and mom asked if you had any allergies? Food or otherwise?” He shoots you a sheepish grin. “Forgot to ask.”

“Nothing at all. I’ll eat anything you put in front of me and sniff whatever weird Texas plants you guys have got.” A teasing grin counters his embarrassed one. “My brother and I did a campaign stop in Texas; I don’t think there was anything too sniffly in Austin. But I know the state is big.”

“Huge.” He snorts, smirking slightly. “You know what they say. ‘Everything’s bigger in Texas’.” He jokes.

"Oh yeah?" The smirk that forms on your face is immediate and you lean over to nudge his shoulder. "Is that how you grew up so big?"

“Not that big.” He chuckles. “My cousins – the males – are bigger.”

Snorting slightly, you can't help but laugh as you nudge Marcus again. "That sounds painful."

“Shit.” Marcus chokes and shakes his head. “I didn’t mean that.”

"Well good," you're still laughing, juvenile sense of humor on full display even if you're quiet. "Otherwise I'd feel bad for their spouses."

He snorts and leans into press his lips to yours. “I’m the biggest.” He boasts, completely lying and he winks to acknowledge that. Not like him and his cousins have compared…since before puberty.

"Naughty." It's chastising, but you giggle as you steal another kiss as you both settle back in your seats for a short but comfortable flight.

Marcus hums as the flight attendant comes by. “Do you want a mimosa?” He asks softly. “Start our vacation off right?”

"Why not? Let's have a fancy flight." First class is already a bit of an extravagance, and you smile at the flight attendant gratefully. They are well aware of who is on board – Agent Bailey had background checks run on the flight crew as a precaution – and discreetly point out your agent to the gentleman. "And a cup of coffee for the woman in the suit right over there? She'll say she doesn't want anything but I know she'd love a cup right about now."

“Yes madam.” He nods and smiles back at you, finding it refreshing that you aren’t over demanding like some political figures. One asshole really set his teeth on edge last month.

"Thank you so much." The last thing you want to do is make a fuss for the flight crew, and you sit back with Marcus's hand in yours. As nervous as you might be, this is going to be a good week.

“Anywhere you want to see in particular?” Marcus asks, stretching his legs in the extra space the first row gives you. “We don’t have to rent a car. Although I know Agent Bailey will want one of the Secret Service vehicles to follow.

"I want to see whatever you want to show me. Any place you used to hang out when you were growing up, or favorite local places, or even places you've never been that you've always wanted to go." It's his hometown, after all, even if he wasn't born there. Texas is where he became the Marcus that you know and love.

“There’s a band that’s playing Friday night.” Marcus tells you. “At the bar where I used to play.” He chuckles. “It’s my old bandmates.”

"One hundred percent." Your agreement is absolutely instant and there is a giant smile on your face. "No contest. It will be the perfect way to spend our last night in Dallas. Well...last night for now. I know we'll come back plenty of times."

“Awesome.” His grin is wide, happy that you would want to listen to some music and hang out. Potentially meeting old friends. “Then that’s what we’ll do. You’ll like the place.”

"I'll love it." Just like everything else this week, you're looking forward to it because it's something that you'll share with him. It's the early memories of your relationship, as you share the things with each other that made you who you are.

The family compound is exactly that. A compound. Built during the first contract with the Yankees, Pike’s Place as it was fondly referred to, had started out as a way for Marcus’s dad to build the retirement home of his parents’ dreams and ended up being the multi-generational property it is today.

There are more than a half dozen buildings in the property, a large pool and a garden, and even their own personal baseball diamond. It’s like having a resort built specifically for his family. Stuck smack in the middle between a ranch to the south and another large family property to the north, no one would even have any idea that neighbors existed around here if they weren’t told about it.

The main house is a beautiful American Craftsman-style building with a deep front porch and a swing out front, painted bold blue and white against the yellow Texas sun. Matthew and Donna Pike’s house is well-appointed but far bigger than it looks on the outside, and all around it is a stunning garden that they keep together as a shared hobby. The backyard sprawls on endlessly, but for right now you can see more cars than people. It looks like everyone is congregating with Uncle Matt and Aunt Donna.

Marcus’s smile gets visibly wider the closer you get and when the car stops, he’s almost vibrating with joy. He’s not nervous at all, knowing that his entire family will adore you. “Are you ready?” He asks again, not even waiting to the reply before he is shooting out of the car to open the door for you.

“You didn’t tell me you grew up in the cutest place on Earth,” you tease happily, practically giggling at how picturesque it is as you get out of the rental car.

“It’s home.” He looks around the property proudly. “Even when we were living somewhere else because of dad’s job, this was always home.”

“It’s beautiful.” You squeeze into his side and grin back at Agent Bailey as she gets out of the second rental car. “I hope you get to relax a little while we’re down here, too. It’s got to be a hell of a nice change of pace from looking at the inn every day.”

Agent Bailey notes the fence that seems to stretch around the property with approval. “We might be more secure here.”

“Glad to hear it.” Anything that makes her more comfortable is more than okay with you. With as hard as she works, she deserves to be able relax whenever she can.

“Dad installed a fence when he had some fans come up to the house when he was on an away trip.” Marcus explains. They had done one of those ‘where the star athletes live’ things in the Sports Illustrated magazine and someone figured out where it was.” He shakes his head. “Dad was furious, and the compound got an upgrade.”

“Sounds like a solid response to me,” the Secret Service agent agrees as she looks around the property.

“Although, he does open the compound up for youth programs. Training, spending the day with baseball players.” Marcus smiles proudly.

“I love how proud of him you are.” You slip your hand into Marcus’s again and give him a beaming smile. “Time for the chaos, baby. Let’s do it.”

Marcus laughs as the two of you hear the playful shouts from the backyard. The little welcoming barbecue that your father had insisted on was already in full swing. He can’t wait to see how you take all of his cousins and nieces and nephews wearing name tags.

It only takes about a second before someone notices you, letting out a boisterous shout across the yard and garden. “Well, looky what the cat dragged in!”

“Charlie.” Marcus leans in to tell you as every head turns your way. “First cousin from my mom’s side. Can’t believe he’s the first one.”

“Is Charlie not usually this friendly?” You ask under your breath, smiling and waving as more and more heads turn your way.

“Just…unobservant.” Marcus hums, smiling wider when his mother drops her platter of finger foods on a table and rushes forward. “You made it!”

Dr. Donna Pike is a tall woman with a wide smile and honey brown eyes, but right now her most noticeable feature is her long arms which reach out to fold out her only son like a protective mama bird. "Flight was okay?" She asks, smiling at Marcus's nod before she shifts over to hug you in turn.

When she had been told that Marcus had found his soulmate, she had been thrilled. Not because he had to be with his soulmate, she wasn’t narrow minded like that, but because he’s always had so much love to give. She can only hope that you will do well receiving it and return a fraction of it back to him. The others hadn’t seen how pure his heart is. She says your name and squeezes you tight. “How are you? It’s such a delight to meet you.”

"Thank you for having me." Her hands are on your shoulder and it's instantly obvious where Marcus's beaming smile comes from. "I've heard so many wonderful things from Marcus about his family, I'm really excited to meet everyone."

“Well if anyone is too much, or we all are, you just tell us to go away.” She snorts, shooting you a grin. “We are a bit much as a collective.”

"I promise my threshold for much is very high." It has to be, with the kind of people that are always around political figures, but this week is not about you. You do smile again, though, and urge Agent Bailey to come closer than her usual three steps away. "And thank you for understanding that things are not very conventional for me right now. This is Agent Bailey. She's my duty agent and an absolutely superb human."

Donna smiles at the agent, although she doesn’t attempt to hug her. Aware that it might be deemed as threatening. “She is also extremely welcomed.” She nods and offers her hand. “I hope you can relax and have some fun as well, Agent Bailey. We have a comfortable room set up for you at the top of the stairs, just down the hall from them.”

"Thank you, Dr. Pike." Agent Bailey accepts the handshake gratefully. Some people perceive her presence as threatening and that just isn't the case. Especially not here.

“Please, call me Donna.” She insists. “Now, we’ve told the children they are not to ask about your gun, but I do hope that you will change out of your suit into more weather appropriate clothes?” She asks. “Texas is too hot for bespoke all day.”

Agent Bailey actually laughs at that, and you smile when she nods. "I'll be dressed down while I'm here, don't worry about that. Being conspicuous doesn't do much good in protection most of the time."

“Good.” Marcus’s mother smiles. “I’ve also taken the liberty of moving Marcus’s gun safe into your room. For when you are needing to secure it.” She frowns and looks towards Marcus. “Did you bring your own, sweetheart? I didn’t think to ask.”

"Very kind of you, ma'am, but not necessary." Agent Bailey assures her. "I have a portal safe in my luggage. Agent Pike also has his firearm so we'll both be secure and safe that way."

“Told you.” Matthew Pike snakes his arm around his wife and kisses her cheek. “Always overthinking. But I love it.”

"Precautions are good, sweetheart," Donna reminds him, but she smiles.

Marcus and his father could be twins, except for the older man has more pronounced wrinkles from a career spent in the sun. “So this is the gorgeous creature the universe paired you with?” He unwinds his arm from around his own soulmate to pull his son into a bear hug. “Aren’t you a lucky man?”

"I swore I was only going to do this once while we were here." Standing beside Marcus and practically vibrating, you know you probably look silly but you don't care. "Mr. Pike, I am a huge fan and I promise there will be no more fangirling from this point on, but I just wanted to say that once."

There’s a grin that matches his son’s, currently on both of the Pike men’s faces. “Marcus….she has taste.” He teases, winking at you and pulling you in for a hug. “You can fangirl all you like, sweetheart.”

“I’m just very excited to be here,” you admit, laughing as you hug your soulmate’s father in turn. “Marcus…he’s absolutely amazing. I hope you’re as proud of him as he is of both of you.”

“More-so.” Matthew promises, already liking you. “Although, let’s get you settled and a first drink in your hand before we introduce you to everyone else, hm?”

You and Marcus follow his parents through the house and Agent Bailey notes the features of the house with interest but doesn’t interfere. So far, everything is straight forward. She just hopes it stays that way. For your sake.

The tour of the house is easy. A large, open concept main living area is perfect for entertaining, and lines of sight. “Our bedroom is downstairs.” Donna explains. “So you kids will have the top floor to yourselves. Everyone else is staying in the bunkhouse this trip.”

The bunkhouse, as it has been explained to you, is the largest building on the compound which basically amounts to a Pike family motel. Plenty of parking and plenty of rooms to stay in makes it the place that is customarily occupied by Marcus's enormous brood of cousins. "And I'm sure Marcus told you," Matthew glances back at you as the five of you walk together. "But the basement is a game room. Foosball table, game systems, all that kind of thing."

“I was going to show her.” Marcus admits with a shrug. “But she’s bowled in the White House, I doubt our game room would impress her.”

"You are seriously underestimating my love of foosball," you assure Marcus. "I'm terrible at it, but I love it."

“Don’t worry.” Matthew chuckles. “My son excels at pool but cannot figure out a foosball table.”

"Then we can be terrible together," you decide, thankfully garnering a laugh from both Marcus and his parents.

“Which will be a lot of fun.” Marcus chuckles. “When bad weather rolls through, we enjoy the game room and there are people everywhere.” He warns. “One time, we had a checkers tournament, so all the little kids could be involved too.”

The group of you stop in the kitchen for large glasses of sweet tea, and Agent Bailey excuses herself to bring her things upstairs and change into some more civilian-oriented clothes. There are pictures of the family all around the house, but none as prevalent as the pictures of Marcus. His graduations, his triumphs, and some absolutely adorable childhood photos adorn the walls of the house, and you smile at every single one. At one time his wedding picture must have hung on these walls too, or other pictures of him and Lara, and for a moment your heart clenches with regret that he was ever hurt but swells with the knowledge that he’ll never be hurt like that again. The next wedding pictures on these walls will be of you with him, and those will never be coming down.

“Home sweet home.” Marcus hums, watching you take in the space that he had mostly grown up in.

“Ready kids?” Matthew Pike chuckles, opening the sliding kitchen doors to the backyard with great ceremony.

“Don’t worry.” Marcus quickly assures you. “Everyone has had their rabies shots. So they aren’t as feral as they seem.”

For all the teasing, the hugs from his cousins are immediate. They descend on you like a swarm of eager birds, flapping their wings and chattering away as they all introduce themselves and say how happy they are to see Marcus and to meet you.

Marcus smiles at every one of them. Greets them like long lost friends, which they are. They are the friends of his entire childhood and he's happy to introduce you.

A man wearing a name tag that marks him as Uncle Rob holds up two more name tags proudly — one emblazoned Marcus and the other Birdie. “Marcus told us you prefer your nickname,” his father explains with a grin.

“It’s perfect,” you assure them, taking the name tag with a bursting heart. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Uncle Rob is a treasure.” Marcus tells you as he is pulled into a hug and slaps his uncle’s back.

"Uncle Rob is his mother's younger brother," the man clarifies with a happy grin. "Four of the cousins are ours, but I won't quiz you on the family tree just yet."

"I appreciate that." Your laugh of acknowledgement comes easily. "But I've been studying, I promise."

Marcus laughs, knowing how worried you had been over this visit, and it seems as if you are blending in well. He reaches out and squeezes your hip affectionately. “She’s a quick study.”

"Probably mandatory." One of his cousins – her nametag says Selena – teases as she offers you a hug. "Can't imagine the way family debates go when your Mom is the President."

"They're....active." You admit with another laugh. The hug is readily accepted, too. Pikes are apparently very huggy people. "I'm just glad we don't have to come up with opening and closing arguments."

She laughs and nods. “No, but here you might be asked the ERA or RBI stats of anyone you are a ‘fan’ of.” She advises. “So beware.”

"I can absolutely handle stats." For some reason Selena's energy is a lot more calm and reassuring than some of the other cousins, and you feel a little more at ease with her at the moment. "Most of the time I've got those on lock even when nobody's asked."

“How do you take your hotdog?” She asks, narrowing her eyes playfully. “Get it right and we can be friends.”

"It's not gonna be what you want it to be," you laugh, though you do appreciate the way Selena measures her new acquaintances. "I'm from Philly, so pepper hash and spicy mustard."

Her frown is replaced by a smirk and she nods. “You didn’t say ketchup, so you’re good in my book.” She smirks, eyeing Marcus who is huffing and rolling his eyes. “I don’t claim her.” He snorts.

"Too bad," you tease back, looping your arm through his cousin's. "She's delightful and I'm adopting her immediately."

“She’s not housebroken.” He warns, ducking the playful swat she aims towards him.

"Neither is my brother, and we let him into the White House," you snort, laughing even harder when Selena snickers.

Matthew chuckles and he pats his son on the shoulder. “Too late now, son, Selena has charmed her.” He advises.

"I steal hearts," the woman beside you jokes, throwing you an exaggerated wink. "My parents named me after Selena Kyle. It's not my fault."

“Last year you said you were named after Selena Quintanilla-Pérez.” He reminds her with a grin, slapping away her hand again and tapping her chin fondly. “You were lying?” Of course she was, considering she was nine when Selena rose to fame.

"You should keep the Catwoman reference," you advise her with a grin. "Mysterious and nerdy. Very sexy choices."

“See?” Selena smugly grins at Marcus. “Your soulmate has taste.”

Marcus can’t help but grin at that. “So I keep hearing.”

“I have the very best taste.” You agree with that assessment wholeheartedly, leaning back over to Marcus to kiss his cheek.

That makes him laugh quietly and he leans in to hug Selena. “You do. Especially in soulmates.” He teases.

“Oh no.” Pretending to be grossed out, Selena rolls her eyes dramatically but is smiling fully at seeing her cousin happy. “Did you finally find someone as gross as you are when you’re in love?”

“Grosser.” Marcus hums, grinning at you lovingly. “My perfect match.”

“Stop hogging them!” A voice calls out from halfway down the yard, and yet another of Marcus’s smiling cousins can be seen lounging on a picnic table. “We all need to get our annual harassment in, ya know!”

“Oh god.” Marcus hangs his head, even as he laughs. He knows everything is in good fun and he will be harassing them right back.

Thank god for the nametags. You'd be utterly lost without them, even after the flashcards you made for yourself with permission from Marcus to scout his Facebook page for photos of his family. There are just too many of them. The conversations swirl and so do the introductions, but Marcus sticks with you. By the time everyone starts eating the conversation dies down a little and you find yourself at a table with Marcus, his parents, Selena, and her twin sister Harper. Plates of barbecue and cold salads come with fresh glasses of cold sweet tea or cans of soda, and the most relaxed atmosphere of chaos you've been in the middle of in a long time. In your book, this is vastly preferable to a State dinner.

“So what do you think?” Even Agent Bailey has a plate and a drink in her hand, talking to Rodger, one of his dad’s oldest friends. He always comes to these weeks. “She’s gonna relax some?”

"Seems like it." The sight of Agent Bailey socializing is like a miracle to you. A unicorn in real life if ever you saw one. "Any chance your Dad's friend is a beer guy? I found out last week that Agent Bailey brews her own as a hobby and I am endlessly fascinated by all the niche hobbies I keep finding out she has."

Marcus chuckles. “Rodger owns the brewery that supplies the Rangers with the Pike’s Pints.” He explains. “So he’s kind of a renaissance man when it comes to beer.”

"So she has a new best friend?" You laugh, leaning into his side as you eat. "That's fantastic. I hope she has some new ideas to be excited about by the time the week is out."

“My question is this…when does she have time?” He asks, shaking his head. “She’s always with you.”

"I don't think she sleeps." It's a question you've asked yourself plenty of times, but have yet to find an answer. "Apparently she has a dog and a husband and everything? A whole damn life. I'm so glad that doing the job she does hasn't kept her from it."

“Holy shit.” He snorts and looks back at the woman in question with more than slight admiration. “She’s a superhero.”

"She really is." There's no denying that whatsoever.

The meal progresses and his mother smiles at you. “So please, tell me about your inn.” She insists. “Marcus said that you have created a beautiful oasis.”

"It's my happy place." The question – and the description – make you beam. "And...sort of my first child, as well. I bought it from the previous owners a few years ago and my best friend runs the restaurant. It's a beautiful historical property in Alexandria, just outside of DC."

“It sounds like it’s your baby.” She smiles happily and nods. “He has had nothing but praise for it, and you, since his first phone call.”

"He's been wonderfully supportive. I couldn't ask for a more understanding or helpful partner." You do flash him a grin, though, and decide to rat him out to his mother just a tiny bit. "I do think the restaurant is at least half the reason he spends so much time there, though. It's amazing."

“He has always led with his stomach.” Donna snorts, shooting you a conspiratorial grin. “When he was a teen, he was always starving.” She intones dramatically.

"Isn't that how all teenage boys are made?" The laugh you share isn't at his expense, just shared amusement, and you pick up your sandwich again. "At least, my brother was always that way. I swear he ate six meals a day from ages twelve to twenty."

Marcus laughs and Donna rolls her eyes. “Marcus still sometimes eats six meals a day.” She snorts. “At least that’s the way it sounds when he calls. Always snacking.”

“That’s probably my fault these days,” you admit with a guilty grin. “I’m a snacker. Maybe that’s just another fun little quirk in the broad scheme of things.”

“I just have to run more.” Marcus chuckles, picking up a pickle spear and biting it in half. “So I can still beat everyone here stealing second.”

“We’ll see.” Selena narrows her eyes at him in challenge. “I’ve been training.”

“Oh you have, have you?” Marcus snorts and winks at his cousin. “Twenty bucks says I steal more bases than you.”

“Fine,” Selena shrugs, smirking as she leans back in her seat. “I’ll be out there stealing more hearts, anyway.”

“I’ve already got the heart I want.” Marcus informs her, picking up your hand and kissing the back of it dramatically.

“I love you, too.” Over the weeks, the promise has become stronger between the two of you and little daydreams about the future don’t seem so far off anymore — though you haven’t really planned anything beyond agreeing that you want to be together.

"See?" He smirks towards Selena with a fluttering of his lashes. "She loves me, so I am complete."

“You’re completely gross and I’m very happy for you,” Selena teases back. “You’ll have the picturesque wedding you always dreamed of, and a million kids, and make an east coast version of Pike Place.”

"Ohhhhh." He tilts his head curiously as he looks back at you. "Modern day Kennedy Compound?" He suggests. "Our version of Hyannis Port at the inn?"

“That’s a lot bigger than a little colonial cottage at the back of the grounds,” you remind him, but the idea makes your chest swell with absolute love. “But I think if we build at the back of the property we could do a bigger house and get away with it. People wouldn’t even be able to tell the two are connected.”

He smiles at the idea. "We will have to find out who owns the property adjoining yours." He hums. "Expand."

“So you’re already talking about a family, then?” His father, obviously enamored of the thought, smiles broadly. His son has always been a family man, even when that definition just meant his best friends were his cousins.

"We are planning out a lot of things." Marcus admits with a grin, unable to contain the happiness at the idea. "Not sure when that's going to happen, but we are on the same page."

“Maybe sometime before we’re too old and gray to travel all the way to DC?” Matthew jokes, although he’s only half joking.

You groan quietly and Marcus smirks as he looks at you expectantly. "Told you." He laughs. "You said your parents would be first, but I knew it was going to be mine."

“I’m still shocked my Dad didn’t bring it up at dinner last night,” you admit. You had been absolutely certain that your folks would use Friday night dinner as a chance to interview you about your intentions as a couple.

"I'm sure he wanted to." He laughs. "But we've classified that as Need To Know." He jokes.

“That may be the only way to survive with them.” Still, you can’t help but let the smile grow on your face. “By their standards, we’re taking positively forever.”

"I guess that means we should just run off to Vegas and get married." Marcus teases with a wink. "Really mess with their expectations."

“We would have four parents very upset with us,” you remind him. Every time you joke about getting married or have a little daydream it just sounds better and better, but you would never push him to elope. His family means to much to him, just like yours does to you.

"Yes they would." Donna points her fork at him playfully. "I don't care how you get married, I just want to be there."

“Yes ma’am.” That gets an instant agreement from you — not at all ready to set the precedence of going against your future mother-in-law about something like this.

"Good." She smiles in approval and smirks at her husband. "We will clear our schedules whenever they decide on a date."

"Well," you laugh, leaning into Marcus's side. "I guess you were right about not needing to worry over their approval."

“The fact that I love you is all my parents ever need to know.” He smiles and Matthew nods. “Marcus has a good head on his shoulders and a heart of gold. With you being his soulmate, you have to be the same.”

For dinner on your second night in Texas, Marcus promises to take care of everything and disappears with a grin on his face while his mother and Selena take you on a long walk around the large gardens of the compound. Anticipating a little girl talk and some bonding with his family, you had readily agreed.

“So how are you liking Texas, Birdie?” Donna asks curiously as the three of you stroll in the warm morning. You have been a dream to have visit and it’s obvious that you adore Marcus, so she has loved you being here. She just wants to make sure the feeling is mutual.

“It’s beautiful.” It’s not too hot yet, being the beginning of April, and walking around the compound is a nice way to settle in and work off the big breakfast everyone had this morning. “I’ve only been here once before and this is far less stressful.”

“I am sure the campaign trail was never relaxing.” She sympathizes softly. “Although, if you have to take up the trail again, we can offer you a respite from the questions and prying wherever we can.” With being her baby’s soulmate, she will be just as protective over you.

“I’m sure when re-election comes, I’ll be volunteering to come to Texas again just to be able to see my in-laws.” The thought is actually relaxing, to be able to take respite with such kind people, but the in-laws part excites you a bit.

“In-laws.” She beams when you say that. “Now I promise I won’t insist that you call me ‘mother’ or anything, but I hope that we can be friends.”

“Let’s start with Donna and Birdie and go from there,” you suggest, smiling just as broadly as she is. “I absolutely want us to be friends. Marcus loves you all so much and I know it means the world to him.”

“He is our only child, and we want him to be happy.” She promises. “But that doesn’t mean smothering him or not letting him live his life.” She laughs. “Matthew almost had a heart attack when he came home one break to find Marcus with shoulder length hair and an earring. But he never said a word.”

“Oh, please tell me you have pictures of that.” Marcus had told you about his long hair phase, but claimed no photos remained. You’ve been hoping that his parents have one tucked away somewhere.

Donna grins. “I have them all.” She promises. “Snuck them up to the attic before he could burn them.”

“He looks like the nerdiest member of Nirvana,” Selena snorts, giggling with the jovial malice only family can truly master.

“He was…too polite to really pull off the grunge look.” Donna admits, smiling at Selena’s almost evil outlook.

“He’s such a sweetheart.” There are hearts in your eyes when you say it and you don’t care to hide them one bit. “It’s—he’s better than I could have dreamed of for myself. Truly.”

“I have to confess….” Donna looks out over the gardens and sighs. “I have been so very worried about Marcus. He’s is such a loving man. He always has been, from the time he was a baby. But when he called me to say he had discovered his soulmate…” she looks back at you. “I was so very afraid that you wouldn’t understand his heart.”

“How do you mean?” She obvious cares for her son very deeply, and you do want to make sure that the relationship you have with her is honest. No misunderstandings if you can help it — which means asking for clarification. “Because he’s so giving and quick to jump in headfirst?”

“Yes….and no.” She admits. “Marcus is….well, he’s a caretaker. A fixer. You have a problem, he comes up with a solution. You feel tired and down, he will take some of your burden and try to cheer you up.” She sighs softly. “Oftentimes, so many women have been conditioned to be strong, independent, so they view that as misogyny or finding them helpless. It’s insulting to them and they resent him for it.”

“They don’t understand that offering care is his way of being supportive. It’s not that he doesn’t think they can do it themselves, it’s that he views being helpful as a romantic gesture as much as anything else.” You nod, understanding that entirely. “I think the hardest part for Marcus and me right now is that we’re both like that a lot of the time. Which means we’re constantly doing little fixes or giving little gifts or making little gestures. We’re still finding the balance.”

“That makes me feel better.” She admits with a smile. “You understand his need in doing it.”

“He wants me to know I don’t have to do it alone,” you acknowledge, offering her a smile as you walk. “And I want to make sure he knows the same.”

“You two truly are soulmates.” She chuckles. “And I have never been more happy to say those words.”

“Just as happy as I am to hear them, I promise you.” Stopping in your steady tracks, you touch her arm gently and offer her a slightly more serious look. “A lot of people interpreted the things I said on the campaign trail to mean that I’m against soulmates, but I’m absolutely not. I just don’t think anyone should be discriminated against for who they love. Anyone, and unfortunately a lot of people still believe only soulmates should be able to get married.”

“Those people…in my most professional opinion…” Donna snorts. “Are assholes.”

“Agreed.” You nod your head but Selena snorts at her aunts phrasing as the three of you start walking again.

“Do you have any specific plans while you are here?” Donna asks, curious if you had wanted to spend the entire time at the compound.

“I want to see whatever Marcus wants to show me.” It seems like an easy answer, but honestly you’re just here to meet his family and spent time with your soulmate. Anything more is a bonus. “Or anything you guys have in mind. I just…” you shrug in admission. “I never take vacations. So I’m reminding myself not to worry about work and trying to relax.”

“A workaholic.” She smirks slightly. “Something I’m very well-versed in.” She teases.

"Can't exactly stop yourself from taking work home with you when you live at work," you admit with a grin.

“As long as it’s work you love, I don’t see a problem with it.” Donna tells you.

"I really do." They already know that, of course, from how much and how proudly you talk about the inn. But still, you're beaming. "Marcus suggested we look at building our house on the property since I already own it, and I think it's only going to be a little while before we start in on that plan."

Building something together is something that Donna highly approves of. She nods. “Word of advice?” She offers with a smirk. “Have a general contractor negotiate any and all disagreements.”

"Noted," you agree instantly, knowing that Marcus's parents have a whole lifetime of experience in this particular area.

“It will solve a lot of arguments.” She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Over tile size!”

When Selena snorts out a laugh you have to suppose it's a family joke or at least and a family story, and you laugh too. "It's always something small, isn't it?"

“Yep.” She shakes her head and laughs. “One fight was about if the dishwasher should be on the left or right side of the sink.” She huffs. “Matthew rarely loaded the dishwasher, but thought that it continuously unfair to live in a right handed world as a leftie.” She rolls her eyes again, although it’s more amusement than annoyance.

Small things always seem large when they're under the microscope, and you can see how those things could get out of hand. But fortunately, from what you and Marcus have talked about so far, you're mostly on the same page right from the start. "I can see us tussling over little things pretty easily, but I think it will all turn out pretty well in the end. It's definitely a solid way to work through our skills in compromise and communication, though."

“Marcus knows how to communicate.” She promises. “He’s good at it, and if he’s not, I’ll give you free sessions.” She jokes, knowing the last thing any couple would want is to have an in-law involved.

"You'll be glad to hear that I have an excellent therapist to help me handle stressors and any manner of other unexpected event in my life that I need extra help in processing." The importance of simply having an impartial third party is not lost on you, but having a professionally trained and educated one is all the more important when possible stressors could include death threats sent to your family members.

“Very glad.” She nods and reaches out to pat your hand gently. “You are under a lot of pressure. That is obvious.”

"When we get back I have a meeting at the White House." Though you shudder for dramatic emphasis, it is unnerving. Those meetings about social outreach and the image of the First Family had gone well for Junie and Alex but since you're fairly certain what your mother will ask of you, you're dreading it.

“If you ever want to talk, just to vent, you can call me.” Donna offers softly. “Not in a professional capacity, although anything you say would be kept between us.”

"I really appreciate that." It's not something she has to offer. Not at all. But you're so grateful that your soulmate's parents have so far turned out to be wonderful people.

“Of course.” You might not take her up on the offer, but she wanted to extend it.

"And I hope you know you're always welcome in DC. Anytime, no hesitations." You swing back to grin at Selena on your other side. "You too. We could use another partner in crime."

“I am absolutely going to come visit.” Donna promised, and Selena nods eagerly. “Me too! I want to see this inn.”

"If you want to come and stay there, I'll have a word with the owner," you joke, and throw in a wink.

“And the food.” Donna insists. “Marcus has raved about your best friend, Sydney.”

"She's an absolute goddess." You promise them both. Building up your friends and loved ones is always easy for you. "Just the most talented chef you could possibly imagine. And an amazing person, to boot."

“She has to be.” Selena isn’t joking this time. “Marcus doesn’t waste time on people who aren’t amazing.” Now she gives a small, preening grin. “Which is why he loves me so much.” She jokes.

“I know what it is.” After about one full day of hanging out with Selena, you’ve narrowed down why it is that you are so comfortable with her, and it makes you laugh endlessly. “You’re exactly halfway between my best friend and my brother. Who are two of my top three favourite people in the world, despite the crap I give my little brother on a daily basis.”

“That sounds like a high compliment if I’ve ever heard one.” She laughs. “I’m the little sister Marcus never wished he had.”

“He loves all of you like siblings.” Even if he hadn’t said so explicitly, it’s easy to tell.

“We grew up together.” She agrees. “Even if we lived apart, summers together were important. Holidays spent driving each other and our parents crazy.” There’s a fond smile on her face. “Hopefully our kids will experience the same things.”

“I hope so, too.” The idea head settled into your bones and made you sunny with daydreams. “My siblings’ kids, too. The biggest family we can possibly make for them, since we never had any cousins growing up.”

“Pikes tend to assimilate the families that join them.” Donna shoots you a grin. “They are like the Borg.”

“That’s how we collected friends when I was a kid,” you laugh. The Pikes are definitely not like the Borg — they all feel far too much for that and you adore it. “Make friends with one of the three of us and suddenly you were just another family member.”

“That sounds familiar.” Selena snorts. “We love having people around. The more the merrier.”

“Absolutely.” The morning sun has hit the top of the sky but it’s not too hot, just making you stop warding off the crisp breeze as it disappears into a mellow midday.

“If you don’t mind me asking…” Selena hesitates. “There was some talk about you dating a Congressman?”

There it is. You were wondering how long it would take someone to ask the very fair question. At least it’s Selena and not Cousin Terry’s wife Hannah who seems to distrust you purely for being the daughter of a politician. Which…is also fair…just not a stereotype that applies to you personally. “I was. For almost a year. I was still seeing him when Marcus and I met, but…” you shrug your shoulders a little, with honesty in the sheepishness. “I fell in love with Marcus so fast, and so deeply. Even if he hadn’t turned out to be my soulmate, I still would have ended things with my ex.”

“I didn’t want to pry, I just hadn’t seen anything about a break up and wanted to know if you were ‘public’ yet.” Selena reassures you. “There’s already been a message in the family chat about not posting while we are here on social media. So we don’t potentially ‘out’ your relationship.”

“It will be out by Easter.” Breathing a sigh of relief isn’t subtle, so you swallow it down and simply tighten your smile into an affirmative. “He’s coming to the Easter Egg Roll at the White House with me. After that, just…try to be conscious of people asking about family photos? If you’ve got ones with Marcus and me in them, we’ll just ask everyone to keep them private. You know, friends only.”

“We are used to that.” She nods and sends you a smile. “We’ve got your back. Don’t worry. No one here is going to judge you. Besides Hannah.” She snorts. “And let’s be honest, she’s a bitch.” Donna chokes out a laugh, quickly smothered, and swats at Selena’s butt from behind you. “Selena!” She scolds, obviously still trying not to laugh.

“Oh.” This time the relief whooshes out of you, but you end up laughing. “So it’s not just me?”

“Hannah is…the least comfortable with the easy, familial closeness of our family.” Donna snorts. “When she first started coming, there was an…accusation.” She hums delicately.

“What could poss—” As soon as your mind spins on it for long enough to actually ask the question, your mouth falls open in horror. “Oh my god! That’s—obviously, obviously I don’t think that. Please know that I have never ever thought that.”

“You don’t think I’m sleeping with Terry?” Selena snorts. “Thank God!”

“No, I definitely do not think you’re sleeping with your first cousin,” you laugh but still shudder.

“Apparently, Hannah doesn’t believe men and women can be friends. Not even relatives.” Selena shrugs. “So if it seems like all the female cousins keep their distance from Terry, it’s not because he’s a pervert. He’s actually amazing. His soulmate is just fucking nuts.”

“Got it.” Even though you flash a thumbs up in acknowledgment, all you can think of is how glad you are that Marcus didn’t stay with Vanessa. She would have hated this for the exact same reason. Probably been Hannah’s only ally.

“Hannah isn’t all bad.” Donna adds, trying to soften it some. “Just….a little…set in her ways. But honestly, this is the only time of year they come. They rarely join other holidays.” She looks over at you. “And pleased don’t think that we expect you to come for every holiday, but we will invite you.”

“We’ll come as often as we can.” You can promise that easily, though you know sometimes he’ll have to work and you’ll have to be at official events with your family. “It…will be easier once my mother is out of office.”

“I understand.” Donna is well aware of the demands of public figures. She had to be seen at a certain number of games and it was her own personal mission to attend the post seasons games any time Matthews’s teams made it. “Just know that we want what is best for you.”

“And that is so much more appreciated than you could know.” Maybe she does. Maybe she understands every bit of it. But because you appreciate the honesty of the words from your soulmate’s mother so much more than you expected to, you leave the phrasing as it is. No stumbling or correcting.

Donna winks at you and links her arm through yours. “You and I are going to be good friends.” She predicts with a happy smile. Marcus is over the moon in love with you and from what she could see, you are much the same. There is nothing more than Donna could ever wish for her baby, to find a smart, loving, good person – and you fit that bill perfectly.

Most of the day is spent in the massive pool down by the bunkhouse, with a little day drinking and a whole lot of horsing around and even a little heckling when some of the cousins got into a competition over best diving form — which quickly degraded into silliest dive. Now it’s sunset, and you’ve thrown a shirt and shorts over your dried out swimsuit for Marcus’s surprise.

“Hey babe.” Marcus finds you again, smiling at the relaxed smile on your face and he hands you a new drink. “You look like you’ve had a good time.”

"Well howdy stranger!" A slight affectation in your voice is just to make him laugh, and you grin when it succeeds. "Where have you been all day? Did you have fun with your Dad?" Matthew Pike had disappeared after breakfast along with his son, and when you had remarked on it to Donna during your walk, she had just said not to worry.

“Of course.” He grins, unable to stop himself as he moves over to caress your neck. “I was taking care of a few things for tonight. Why? Did you miss me?”

"Every second." And you don't care who knows it either. You sit up in your chair and stretch a little more to kiss him, catching the fresh scent of the bodywash he favors as it mixes with his bergamot and musk cologne. He's fresh and clean and it makes you wonder what he's been up to as much as it makes you want to drag him up to his bedroom.

“Good.” He smirks against your lips and offers you his hand as he steps out of your sphere. “Come on.”

"Ooo, is it surprise time?" The look of delight on your face is undisguised as you readily take his hand to pop up from your seat. "I'm all yours."

“Yes you are.” He beams about that fact as he pulls you closer. “Say goodnight to everyone, Birdie.” He hums quietly. “We probably won’t see them again tonight.”

"Good night everybody!" You wave immediately, wrapping your arm around Marcus's waist and barely sparing a backward glance in favor of grinning up at him.

“Damn.” He whistles as he guides you away from the pool and over to the truck. He’s already talked to agent Bailey and cleared things with her, so he just nods as the two of you pass by.

“Damn what?” You pose, laughing a little as you wonder if he’s amused at how quickly you’re ready to leave just about anyone behind to spend time with him.

“I could be a kidnapper and you would just go willingly.” He teases, reaching out and tugging on your ear gently.

“You’d be the best looking kidnapper around and Agent Bailey would have a hell of a time bringing me home,” you tease, hopping into the pickup when he opens the passenger door for you.

“Yep, you have Stockholm Syndrome.” He teases, leaning in to steal one more kiss before he closes the door and hurries around the hood.

Once he’s back in the cab beside you, you flash him a grin. “Belle got a library, I got the softest dom in the whole world and awesome in-laws. I’m okay with it.”

“Softest dom?” He snorts, tilting his head while he tries, and fails to look offended. “I’m a hard dom.” He protests.

"How hard you fuck me when we get going is not what I mean," you clarify, settling into the corner of the seat as he starts to drive the two of you across the compound. "You have the softest heart in the world and I feel very lucky to be the one you've decided to give it to."

“I know.” He promises. “I was teasing. I want you to be happy, healthy and loved. That’s all I want.”

"I am. All three, absolutely." Leaning against his shoulder on the drive, you hum slightly and end up sounding a little sheepish as you look out the window. "I missed you today. Even though we weren't apart too long."

He chuckles slightly and lifts your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles and scrapes his teeth over the delicate skin. “I’ll show you how hard of a dom I am.” He teases. “I’ll put a collar on you.”

Not expected that reaction from him, you make a remarkably incoherent noise of interest and surprise before turning your head to look at him. "Don't tempt me with a good time, Pike."

He had been joking, but the way you react has him pausing. “Is that something you’re interested in?” He keeps the question casual, not wanting to seem like he’s pushing or judging, he’s doing neither.

"I always thought it sounded kind of sexy," you admit, wondering if he was just joking and not serious at all. "I mean it's not like...like something mandatory for me to be happy in a relationship, obviously. If--if you're not into that and at all and you were just joking—"

“Baby.” Marcus squeezes your hand. “Anything you are interested in is something we can talk about. If it’s an absolute no, then I’ll explain why. But I think it sounds kind of sexy too. Collars don’t have to be spiked dog collars where I pull you around on a leash and make you bark.” He snorts.

"A lot of day collars just look like cute little necklaces." Alright, you may or may not have done a little looking into it a few years ago with the guy you were seeing at the time. He was long gone now, but the idea had remained in your head. It was not something Sam would have gone for so it had never been brought up to him.

His brow ticks up, noting your interests and he hums. “They do.” He agrees. “Something sexy about being claimed, isn’t there?”

"Absolutely." He turns left at a pair of apple trees on the western part of the compound and keeps going, while you continue to snuggle next to him like a contented house cat. "I mean...I'm wearing a Pike family nametag. That's about as claimed as it gets."

“Not quite.” Marcus chuckles. “There’s definitely more claiming that can be done.”

"Is that a promise?" You tease, grin growing a little wider when he turns toward a tree line up ahead.

“Absolutely.” He follows the less worn paths through the trees, although it’s obvious from the tire marks through the grass road that someone has been there recently.

"So can I have a hint about where we're going?" This isn't a part of the property that you've been to yet and it's beautifully woodsy in a distinctly Southwestern way that you're finding fantastic.

“You’ll see.” The tree line gives way to clearing and Marcus smiles as the pond comes into view. “Right now.”

The little clearing in the trees is picture perfect. It looks more like a movie set than real life, the tree-lined pond ringed with fairy lights sitting side-by-side with a red and white checked gingham blanket and large picnic basket, and a small cooler to boot. "Baby," you sigh out the endearment excitedly. He knows you love surprises -- your family told him so -- but you weren't expecting anything. That, of course, it was makes surprises so wonderful.

“Now you know what I’ve been doing all day.” He tells you as the truck pulls to a stop close to the picnic sight. “Wanted to make this perfect.”

"It's gorgeous!" You breathe, practically squeaking with excitement as you turn to snuggle into his side as soon as he parks the truck. "Is this your old make out spot? Because if it is? It's an awesome choice."

“Maybe a few times?” Marcus shrugs his shoulders and gives you a boyish grin. “Not too many times.”

"Could make it one more." The exaggerated wink you aim at him makes both of you laugh. "If you wanted to, I mean."

“That was my evil plan.” Marcus admits without any remorse. “Bring you out here, woo you, make out with you.”

"Pretty good plan." Right about now he could undo your seatbelt and haul you into his lap in the truck and you wouldn't protest even for a second. "It's absolutely gorgeous, baby."

“Wanted to give you a special night.” He’s explains, unlatching his seatbelt so he can open the door and walk around to help you out.

“Every night with you is special.” As soon as you’re out of the truck you press in to kiss him, enjoying the lingering warmth of the early evening.

“So you’d rather go have dinner with everyone else than have a romantic picnic by the pond?” Marcus asks, reaching for the door handle. “We can go back…”

“Ohhhhh no.” You shake your head immediately. “We’re staying right here. In our perfect little oasis.”

“I thought you would say that.” Marcus chuckles as he takes your hand to guide you over to the blanket. “I brought wine, but we don’t have to drink anything stronger than lemonade.”

“Wine sounds nice.” You’ve been moderate in your drinking today, having two cups of water for every alcoholic beverage and making sure to eat, so you’re not worried about being too inebriated. “And very romantic, but I don’t ever doubt that from you.”

“Well. I know that it might not be the fanciest, but I wanted to make an effort.” He grins at your praise and both of you sit down on the checkered spread.

“You’re perfect level of fancy for me.” Once you sit down here starts to unpack things, and you fidget slightly on the blanket. “But…Speaking of…of that? I wondered if I could talk to you about an idea that I had.” The actual thought has been rolling around in your head for a while for uncomfortable reasons, but now that it’s Marcus it’s actually a nice thing you don’t mind dreaming about a little.

“Speaking of fancy….” He chuckles. “Alright. I’ll pour out the wine. You pitch me your idea and we will strategize.” He jokes as he opens the top to the wicker basket and produces two, picnic friendly wine glasses and sets them down to retrieve the wine from the cooler.

“Unless you had something else you wanted to talk about?” Maybe that’s what this beautiful picnic is and you’ve usurped the purpose of the night by jumping the gun, you can’t be sure.

“I’m wanting to talk about whatever you want, my love.” He promises as he uses the corkscrew to open the bottle.

“Very accommodating of you.” But that’s Marcus and you know it. Instead you focus on opening up the containers he’s packed away that are holding your dinner. “Do you remember I told you that my mother wants the three of us kids to all do…sort of…family publicity type stuff? Like Junie getting a dog and being willing to be public about it?”

“Yes.” He nods and pours out the wine into each glass. “You didn’t sound terribly enthusiastic about it, although you tried to put on a good front.”

“I’m not terribly enthusiastic about it.” You can admit that, especially to him. “Which is why I’m not sure if this idea is selfish or not.”

“Honey….” Marcus hands you the wine and takes the container with the cheese from you to open. “You are not a politician, you don’t seek the spotlight. Sharing yourself with the public in a way you need isn’t selfish.” He’s pretty much guessed that it has to be some idea about your relationship, and he’s okay with that.

“It’s selfish because it’s something I’m asking you to do with me.” The wine glass is cold in your hand, a soothing and grounding change from the warm day. Although now that the sun’s down it will be cool sooner rather than later. “Because I’m more comfortable and more confident with you beside me in that spotlight.”

“Whatever you need.” Marcus promises. “Undercover work was never exactly fun for me, and I’m out as a UA now that the picture of us dancing was posted in the papers.”

“I feel like I ought to apologize.” The wine he chose is fruity and dry, much more complex than you would but for yourself despite his claim that it’s not fancy.

“No, sweetheart, please don’t.” Marcus shakes his head. “I was aware pictures would be taken. It was my own choice. And I don’t regret it for a second.”

“I didn’t know art crimes required undercover work. Though I suppose it makes perfect sense now that I think about it.” And you’re definitely stalling, but you push it further by assembling a charcuterie bite from the containers around you.

“It’s rare, but I only took the last assignment where I went undercover was because I needed to get away after things ended with Teresa.” He explains.

"Well, you'll have nothing like that reason ever again." The idea of Marcus with a broken heart is too much to stomach, and the coping mechanism of assembling the perfect charcuterie bite for him now pushing the thought out of your mind.

“I know.” It’s freeing to know that you two are very much in the same pages. Despite the fact that being soulmates does guarantee happiness, you and him will do everything to make sure that your story is a good one.

"So...the thing I wanted to talk to you about..." Enough stalling. Time to be an adult. "Is not because I want to push you, or rush you, or anything like that. But...because I keep thinking about it and thinking that getting ahead of the curve is the only way to really control it, and controlling it will be so much less stressful and make half as much work in the long run."

You’re cute when you’re flustered, Marcus leans back on the blanket, completely relaxed as he takes a sip of his wine. “So are we talking televised wedding? Or just pictures?” He asks.

"We are not broadcasting the wedding." That's the point at which you draw the line, you already know that. It's too much. Too invasive even for a family in the public eye. "I was thinking more like...letting photos be released along the way. Like sharing engagement photos, or photos of dresses that I don't pick. Things like that?"

“I’m perfectly fine with that.” It’s an easy agreement, one that has him lifting a brow. “That was all?”

"Even if that includes sharing photos of your bachelor party or sitting down with a reporter yourself?" The fact that he's willing to agree to it so easily is utterly shocking to you, and you feel like you have to do your due diligence and double check. "Or even share part of the proposal?"

“Whatever you feel comfortable with.” Marcus agrees. “It’s like the family days at the parks or when mom and dad would have interviews.”

Sometimes you really do forget that he already has a frame of reference for all of this. That he understands being a family in the spotlight. You take a sip of your wine and build him another bite from the charcuterie containers, offering it to him with a grateful smile. "I love you. Completely. I really hope you know how grateful I am for you."

“Why don’t we plan to have photos released from our engagement, you and I can sit down with a reporter about the expectations of soulmates and politics. There can be a website for all this with links to charities or causes that you want to champion or bring to light?”

"I don't understand how you get even more perfect." When he takes the cracker from your hand you run a finger under his jaw and end up feeling heat in your cheeks all over again. "When we get back I'll talk to Mom and whoever from her team is supposed to be coordinating my media stuff. And..." That same hand of yours squeezes his knee gently. "This is not me trying to rush you into anything. I'm sure we'll get enthusiastic and rush all on our own."

“Us?” He feigns surprise and smirks slightly. “Maybe we will, maybe we will surprise ourselves.” He turns and kisses the palm of your hand. “But I doubt it.”

"I doubt it, too." It's a kiss from his lips that you want most, and lean forward to steal it without shame. "But I love that we're on the same page so easily."

“So after that birthday….um, debacle…” he makes a face. “Are you totally opposed to the idea of a surprise proposal or what?”

"As long as it's you proposing, a surprise is fine." Debacle is the right word, and you roll your eyes slightly. "I actually do love surprises. Mom told you that."

“You might have changed your mind.” The sun is setting and right on cue, the fairy lights that he had spent the majority of the day stringing around the pond come on.

The way you coo at the change in lighting is full of delight, and you lean into his side on the blanket with nothing short of delight on your face. "See this is why I love surprises. For things like this."

“I was hoping you would like it.” Marcus grins as you stare in loving awe of the lights as they play off the water and the sunset.

"You know...the back of the property at the inn has a little pond like this." You lean back against him and enjoy the view around you. "There's nothing around it really, so I haven't thought about putting a garden there or anything. But...it could be in the backyard of our house if we wanted it to."

“I think we could do that.” Marcus smirks and reaches out to touch the rim of his glass against yours. “Our own little escape.”

"And it's far enough back from the inn to soothe your very sweet concern over historically matching buildings." Which you love, but you don't want him to get so hung up on it that he ends up sacrificing another aspect of the house he might truly love.

“You have something else in mind?” He asks, wondering if you want something different for how you raise your children and where you live.

"I don't really know a hell of a lot about architectural styles," you admit. "I just don't want us to miss out on our dream house because we got stuck on making the buildings match. We can set our house back enough that it will have its own space."

“Any house that has you and our family in it is my dream house.” He promises, smiling at you happily.

"I love you, too." In a way that makes you feel like your heart is going to swell right out of your chest, but in the absolute best possible way.

“I know you do.” Marcus murmurs softly, wondering how he got so lucky with you. “I am a lucky man.”

Leaning back lets you kiss him, just a soft thing but tender and full of desire and promise before you pull back and smile at him softly. "I guess we're both lucky, then."

“Oh!” Marcus pulls out his phone, forgetting that he had programmed it and opens it up to the music app to start playing music. “Forgot that part.” He huffs. “Too eager to pour wine.”

You know even on the first song that it's a playlist of love songs. There is nothing more supremely on point for Marcus than a night like this, with all of the magic that he's infused into this beautiful little dinner. "I don't know how, but you keep making it better every second."

“That’s high praise.” He hums, putting together a bite for you and holding it out for you to eat. “I’ve enjoyed having you to spoil.”

“And you’re about the only person in the world I’ll ever let do it.” The admission comes with a laugh, and you place another soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for suggesting this trip, love.”

“I’m glad you got to come.” He admits with a smile as you take the offered bite and groan at the taste. “I know it was hard to take off last minute and I appreciate it. Next time we will have it planned better.”

“It’s less that it’s hard and more that I get very determined about being hands on,” you admit. “Malachi can run that place in his sleep during the day, and my managers are great. I just…always worry.”

“It’s your baby.” Marcus acknowledges easily. “It’s like a case for me. My team is incredibly proficient at their jobs, but if there is a stake out or some kind of op to be run, I like being there.”

“I’m grateful you understand.” Others hadn’t, and so the fact that Marcus is supportive of your need for work as well as your need for a family is very much appreciated. “And Sydney was joking about sending care packages to your stake outs if you wanted them, so I think your team is about to be very happy, too.”

“If she did, she would become an unofficial member of the team.” Marcus snorts. “They wouldn’t be happy with pizza anymore.”

“I’d have even more FBI agents on my doorstep,” you giggle at the image. “There’s already three of you, we’ll need to designate a dining room or something.”

“The Fed Room.” Marcus snorts, grinning at the idea. “It would never be empty.”

“Syd may have thrown a tiny bit of a fit when I told her I don’t want her to cater any of our wedding stuff,” you admit, cringing slightly as Marcus starts to open another round of containers from the picnic basket. “But she’s my best friend and will be my maid of honor. I want her there by my side, not stuck in the kitchen.”

“How about she can cater the engagement party?” Marcus suggests. “That way she’s involved but it’s not taking over her enjoying your wedding day.”

“I wasn’t even thinking about an engagement party.” The compromise makes you turn up your chin to look at him with wide, starry eyes. “It’s perfect. Just like you, love.”

“We have to have a party.” Marcus teases, kissing your nose. “The press can have the story of my proposal and the engagement party. That’s also a good way to keep our actual engagement to ourselves.”

“I’m so fucking glad you’re with me on this.” The honest laugh is stifled but full of relief as you lounge with him in the blanket. “I would never think of any of this and I’d just end up stressed out or going along with whatever anybody else planned to avoid having to think about it.”

“I will fix anything you ever ask me to.” Marcus promises. “But if you ever don’t like something, you never have to worry about me being upset by that.”

“And the same goes for you,” you promise him, with the same measure of seriousness in your eyes and honesty in your voice. “I hope you know that.”

“I know.” He picks up a grape to pop into his mouth. “You and I are very communicative.”

“I feel like I should apologize.” Your voice lowers slightly, the unsureness seeping through it.

“Why?” Marcus frowns slightly, not liking that comment at all. You have nothing to apologize for. He loves that the two of you are talking and planning your lives together.

“Past relationships…have not been as okay with my tendency to talk everything out at length.” It’s not something that you really ever planned on bringing up, since Marcus likes to dream and plan and plot like you do. But maybe it’s good that he knows, since it has slipped out without you meaning to. “I always felt like I was bothering them with it. And ended up apologizing a lot.”

He frowns even more, reaching out after he sets down to his wine glass and pulls you close. “Sweetheart, I want to talk things out. Even if it’s as mundane as brunch locations or if the entryway table should be moved.” He promises. “Please never feel like you should apologize. I want to hear everything you have to say.”

“You might regret saying that when I get going about the logistics of booking rooms for large parties.” It’s a decent attempt at a joke, even if it’s wry, and you lean into Marcus’s comforting warmth with a sigh. “I’m still getting used to the idea that you are as straight forward and wholeheartedly enthusiastic about this entire relationship as I am. It seems surreal but it’s too wonderful to be a dream, so I’m just doing my best to process the whole thing.”

“You process however you need to.” He kisses your forehead. “I’ll be right here to reassure you again. You’re my partner, my lover, and my friend.” He murmurs. “The most important person in the universe to me.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers @missladym1981 @babeincolor @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #soulmate au #First Daughter reader #Juan Badillo #Graceland #Juan Badillo x f!OC #Juan Badillo x OC #love triangle

[mandos-mind-trick]

Kinktober Day 14 - Orgasm Denial

Summary: You don’t get to cum until you finish your lesson. 

Pairing: Tech x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, orgasm denial, edging, teasing, sex toys, fingering, overstimulation, bondage (frog tie and box tie), BDSM, Dom/sub dynamics, made up technobabble for plot’s sake, aftercare, a little praise kink cause who am I without some praise kink. 

A/N: Flipping the script a bit here from day 1, but we also love some Dom!Tech in this house. We're very near the halfway point, how are we feeling? Surviving so far?

MASTERLIST

“If you connect wiring incorrectly to the hyperdrive, you run the risk of critical failure, or worse, an overload of the system which will end in a terminal explosion. If the wiring is laid incorrectly, the casing for the hyperdrive will fit incorrectly which could cause overheating and a failure of the system...” 

Your eyes roll back, legs squeezing together. Your hips rock against the vibrator situated between your legs, eagerly chasing your approaching orgasm. You’re so close, toes curling in pleasure, head thrown back. You’ve long since stopped listening to Tech, your only thoughts on finally getting a sweet release.

You let out a whine as the vibrator shuts off, hips still rocking as you desperately try to keep the pleasure coming. You turn your head to look at Tech, desperation written all over your face. 

“Please, Tech!” You almost sob, tugging at your restraints. 

You’re on your knees on the floor, your ankles tied to your thighs. You’re sore from kneeling in the position for a while, but you know that’s all part of the game. Your arms are bent at the elbows behind you, ropes tied above your breasts and below, keeping your arms pinned, and your wrists secured behind you. You’re not going anywhere, completely at his mercy. 

“You know the rules.” He says, adjusting his goggles. “Answer correctly, and I will turn it back on.” He holds up two wires. “Which wire connects to the hyperdrive directly?” 

You stare at the wires. They look almost the same except for the color coding on the tips. You wrack your brain, trying to pull up your previous lessons in your lust-addled brain. You’ve been over this before, even while you were clear-headed and not bound and being edged. 

“B-Blue.” You stutter out, legs squeezing together to keep any sort of friction, any sort of pleasure coming. 

He stares at you for a tense moment, your heart pounding in your chest. You’re not sure you could take it if you’re wrong and he makes you wait even longer to cum. “Correct.” He finally says, the vibrations starting on the lowest setting once more. 

You practically sigh with relief, your stomach tightening as pleasure ripples through your clit. Tech continues to talk about the hyperdrive, but you’re only half listening, the pulsing on your clit far more important than whatever he could be saying. You let out a breathy moan as your legs begin to shake, your orgasm quickly approaching after an hour of vibrations against your clit. 

The vibration disappears once more, and you let out a frustrated groan. You lift your gaze to Tech’s, his eyes narrowed and focused as he stares at you. 

“Are you even listening?” He asks. 

You gulp, a guilty look on your face. “I’m trying, but I need to cum so bad!” 

“You know the rules.” He says. “You cannot cum until you finish your lesson.” 

You let out a whine, tugging at your restraints. “Please, Tech!” You beg. “I need it so bad. I’ll be a good girl, I’ll listen!” 

“Prove it.” He says, leaving the vibrations off as he continues on about the hyperdrive.

You almost cry, the feeling of pleasure slowly fading away until you have nothing but the needy throbbing of your clit. Your knees are aching, thighs slick and soaked with your arousal. You listen to him speak, trying to distract yourself from the discomfort beginning to settle in, and the neediness still pulsing through your body. 

“What happens if you lay the wires wrong when reconnecting the hyperdrive?” He asks. 

“Hyperdrive casing won’t fit correctly.” You mumble, pulling the answer up from memory. 

“Good.” He says, the sudden return of the vibrations against your clit making you jump. 

You let out a sigh of relief, your pulsing clit finally getting some attention again. 

“And what happens if the casing doesn’t fit correctly?” He asks. 

You search your addled brain for the answer. You know it, he had just said it a while ago. He had been discussing reconnecting the hyperdrive, but you had been very lost in your rapidly approaching orgasm. Even now it’s getting hard to think with the pleasure clouding your mind once more. 

“...Risk overheating...” You mumble, lips parting with a gasp as you get closer and closer to the edge. “Critical system failure.” You practically moan, your hips rocking against the vibrator. 

The vibrations disappear again and you let out a sob, your whole body shaking from how close you were. You couldn’t possibly be wrong. You know those were the right answers. 

Tech gets up from where he had been seated on the floor, leaving the many wires and devices where they are. He stops behind you, and you hear the clank of plastoid as he kneels on the floor. His armor is cool as it presses against your back, his arm snaking around you and between your legs.

“You’ve made quite the mess.” He says, dragging his fingers through your folds. 

“Please, Tech.” You whine, pressing your hips into his hand. “Please, I need to cum so bad.” 

“You were a good girl.” He says, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I think you deserve to cum.” 

You do cry, tears of relief sliding down your cheeks as he ramps the vibrations up, his fingers slipping into your soaked pussy. His palm presses the vibrator harder against your clit, and the drag of his fingers against that spot inside you nearly has you blacking out as you cum with a cry, soaking his hand. 

He keeps going, fucking you with his fingers while holding the vibrator against your clit. He doesn’t let up any, your body shaking and burning with overstimulation. You squirm but you can do little against him, the reassurances being whispered in your ear nearly making you melt. 

Your second orgasm slams into you suddenly, your entire body writhing in his hold as you soak his fingers again. Your vision blacks out for a moment and when you come back to, you’re on your side on the floor, your legs free from their restraints. Your wrists are tugged free, dropping limply at your sides. Tech settles on the floor, scooping you into his lap. 

Your knees are red from kneeling on the metal floor, and you’ll need to stretch later but you feel satiated. Tech presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, gently easing the ache from your muscles and the places where the ropes had indented into your skin slightly. 

“Good girl.” He praises you. “Always such a good girl for me.” 

Ragu list:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @sinfulsalutations @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink @lickylickylicky @sweetheartsnips @commanderblood @crosshairlovebot @ghostperson69 @captain_rexs_cyare @jediknightjana @jedi-hawkins @dalu-grantkylo

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #tbb tech x reader #bad batch tech x reader #x reader #clone thirsting #kinktober 2023

[alienaiver]

Rugged

Aizawa Shouta x GN!reader

warnings: quirk-induced amnesia, canon minor character death (major in my heart tho), spoilers for... season 5 and forth? to be safe wordcount: 4.9k content: confessions, first kiss, fluff, sfw, no use of y/n, pro hero reader but quirk is unspecified, canon compliant, genderneutral reader, poc!friendly reader, body positive reader, hurt/comfort in like the mildest sense, soft love, amnesia situation, friends to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, started as a meme turned into something serious, something about cats, unbeta'd, flashbacks to high school days

notes: this is so embarassing to admit but i only came up with this story bcos of that tiktok/insta reel (link is a tiktok as thats where i could find the source material) about having a type that's 'rugged'. it was supposed to just turn into a little joke on that and... uh, ykno suddenly i was almost 5k deep into a childhood friends to lovers, ..ya my brain had a VISION alrighty!!!!! please enjoy a one-eyed kitty, one-eyed aizawa and interrupted confessions!

Aizawa’s leaning forward on the desk, meticulously writing down an exact copy of your notes from English Literature that he missed yesterday due to being in the infirmary… again. He’s always known that becoming a Pro Hero with a non-physical quirk would be tough, but he didn’t imagine landing himself in a hospital bed as often as he does. He’s bulking up nicely, but he feels beaten black and blue every other day and it’s… exhausting.

Rewarding, but exhausting nonetheless. He’s momentarily disturbed as a chair is being dragged across the floor, screeching away before haphazardly thrown next to the desk, wrong side facing it, and Yamada throwing himself onto it, arms leaning on the backrest. He says your name in a sing-song voice – your given name, has he no shame? - and steals a peek of you from over the rim of his glasses. You rest your head in your palm and smile at him, “what’s up?” you ask, and he hums as if he’s thinking deeply about something. Aizawa’s got a bad feeling about whatever subject he’s about to bring up; ever since he appointed himself Aizawa’s wing man, the pestering’s both been non-stop and non-discreet.

Aizawa keeps his face buried in the notes, purposefully removing himself from the conversation.

“What’s your type?” Yamada asks and Aizawa has to hold back a facepalm. You simply giggle and play with the zipper from your pencil case before you answer, “hmm, I’m not sure. But with all due respect, I know it’s not you,” you tease him and he straightens his back in mock-surprise, the conversation’s one you’ve had before. He takes a hand to his chest, “what? Not me? Well you’re not my type either!” the shriek in which he yells is a little too loud, his quirk still a little too unmanageable when he gets excited – he winces as the rest of the class turn their heads. You simply laugh and bite your lower lip. Aizawa steals a look at you through his bangs, admiring the glimmer in your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sorry ‘Zashi, I truly am, but… you’re just not… rugged enough.”

“What? I’m so rugged. I can be rugged!”

“Look at you, you’re not rugged,” you laugh as you gesture vaguely to… all of him. He takes offense as he puffs up his chest, “how am I not rugged? Because I’m not wearing a flannel in 80 degree weather?”

You hide your face in your hand as you try to contain your laughter, “yeah, sure, whatever… but look at you now. You fly off the handle like that, you’re too angry.”

“That’s a very rugged thing to do!”

“No, it’s really not.”

Aizawa has been saddled with the two of you for almost two semesters now, and he’s still not entirely used to the way you joke around. In the beginning he was always worried about you fighting and not getting along and he’d stare at you both with wide eyes like a startled cat and hope you’d settle down soon. You always did, laughing like the greatest joke was just told.

You lean forward on the table to bark out a laughter deep from your stomach, momentarily blocking the view of your notes that Aizawa’s copying. He lets out a soundless grunt at you being so close and pulls away in surprise when he accidentally smell your shampoo. He wants to lean forward again, to commit the scent to memory, but you’re already straightened back up, wiping an imaginary tear from your eye, “you don’t even want me, Hizashi, why is this always so important to you?”

This makes Aizawa freeze, terrified that Yamada will accidentally tell his secret to you. But Yamada simply crosses his arms, puffs up his cheeks and nods, “you’re right, I don’t. But I want you to want me. I’m the entire package.”

You laugh and shake your head, letting your arm fall onto the desk in defeat. “Sure then, ‘Zashi. I want you. Badly. More than anything. Please go out with me.” your face is as flat as Aizawa’s can be, and Yamada smiles proudly, “no thank you.”

Aizawa’s startled out of grading papers when his personal phone starts ringing next to him on the desk, the screen much too bright for the darkened room he’s situated in. It’s an unknown caller, which makes him hesitant at first but since it’s well past office hours, he knows it won’t be a salesman of any sort.

He bites his lower lip before he picks up.

“Aizawa speaking.”

“Ah, good evening. I apologize for contacting you at this hour, however, you are written down as the emergency contact for…” he apologetically butchers the pronunciation of your name, but gets your hero name correctly, “this is Aizawa Shouta, right?” the person on the other end confirms, and Aizawa nods before he verbally comes up with an answer.

“Well, it’s just that…” he explains your situation precariously, advising Aizawa to just come down to the station if he’s able, since someone will need to escort you home. He makes sure to remind Aizawa that you have two more emergency contacts on file in case he’s not available, but after getting the location, he’s already up from the chair before he’s hung up with the poor officer dealing with you.

From the call he knows you’re neither mortally wounded or in any kind of distress. You were on patrol when you encountered two villains. One of them turned out to have an amnesia quirk, and now you were stuck at the precinct, not entirely sure where your apartment is located. The officer informed Aizawa that you seemed calm and collected but that the last date you remember was well over 10 years ago even if you haven’t age-regressed in any way.

When he arrives, the officer leads him to one of the offices, profusely apologizing and thanking him at the same time. He’ll never really get used to the way newly appointed officers act around Pro Heroes.

Even if all facts and rationale tells Aizawa that you’re fine, he still grips the door handle way too tight, throwing open the door and evidently scaring the shit out of you, sprawled out on the couch with an ice bag on your knee. You spew out some profanities as you sit up. Aizawa immediately calms down as he sees you alive and well. He thanks the officer and agrees with the officer to sit down and talk with you before taking you home. He bows before he closes the door and looks back at you.

“I already gave a statement – was anything missing?” you ask, resting your hands neatly on your thighs. Aizawa shakes his head, “I came to pick you up – they informed you about which of the emergency contacts to call, right?”

Realization seems to travel across your features as Aizawa masks the sting he feels. Instinctively you reach out, but ultimately pull your hands back, “Aizawa?”

For a split second he lets his emotion show on his face – the way you say his last name instead of his given name, but he’s quick to hide it again. He nods and sits down on one of the chairs on the other side of the coffee table, “I was informed that your memory’s been wiped.”

You nod and look at the floor, “yeah. They took in the villains and interrogated them. It seems it’ll wear off in five to seven hours, but until then I’m stuck with my first work study as my most recent memory. I don’t feel like high school me, though, it’s just like there’s an empty gap in my timeline and not an age-related kind of thing. I can’t remember what has happened since then, but cognitively speaking, I’m still myself.”

Aizawa breathes in sharply, “well, that’s a relief. I have enough students to take care of,” he dryly jokes and the way your eyes widen make him self-conscious. He shouldn’t have made the joke he thinks as he shrinks in on himself.

“You’re a teacher?”

The way you ask betrays your emotions all too clearly and Aizawa holds back a snort. If the last of his personality you remember is high school, he gets why you struggle with the image of him taking care of the budding youth.

“A homeroom teacher, actually.”

Whatever preconceptions you had initially seems to dissipate and you smile proudly, “that’s amazing.”

You haven’t commented on his appearance; besides the moment where you didn’t recognize him, you don’t seem all too taken aback by his lack of eye and prosthetic leg. He’s relieved.

“You ready to go?” he asks, patting his lap with his palms before bracing himself to get up. You get up too and stretch your arms over your head, waiting for that satisfying pop, but it never comes. Annoyed, you let your arms falls and Aizawa smiles at you.

He leads you out of the room and as you put on the jacket he came with, he thanks the officers for their work with some polite back and forth and a bow.

The trip back is quiet as you seem to just take in your surroundings. You stop by your Agency to grab your personal items and civilian clothes that you left behind before your patrol. Luckily the offices are mostly cleared out, so you don’t have to ‘meet’ everyone and Aizawa gets out of explaining everything to everyone.

“Do you want me to escort you to your place? Or do you want to come to mine?”

The question is straight-forward and innocent; you sleep over so often that Aizawa’s spare futon has simply been dubbed your futon, but you seem taken aback, eyes wide and mouth agape. For a moment Aizawa’s blind to the confusion before he remembers.

“Sorry, you sleep over at my place a lot since it’s close to your work. I thought you might also like to see Benben.”

Your eyes that had seemed so tired ever since he arrived, lights up in recollection and excitement, “Benben’s alive and well?” you ask, absentmindedly leaning into Aizawa’s space in your joy. He struggles not to lean back reflectively.

“Yeah, she’s living with me now. She’s becoming old, though. But you’re still her favorite human, so she’d be happy to see you too.”

You giggle into your palm, clearly trying to picture Benben. She was a stray that you and Aizawa started to feed your leftover lunches to back during your first year at U.A. She was also one of the reasons you even started bonding with the stoic classmate. When you talk about the name Benben, a very bad nickname based off of bento, you always laugh and tease Aizawa about his cat-naming skills. While he defends himself in front of Yamada – the man with a habit of getting out his childish side – he never once argues against you on that subject.

Next to Aizawa, you clear your throat right as he’s about to unlock his front door. He’s been polite enough to not comment on the level of staring you’ve done ever since he picked you up, but it seems to be getting too much for yourself. He smiles at you gently, like he’s communicating with a lost child, and the smile makes you act before you can think too long about the action. Aizawa’s breath hitches and whole body freezes when your cold fingertips reach the skin of his cheeks. Your eyes look at him like they’re searching for something, and shortly after your palms make contact, your thumbs start traveling around his face, from his eyebrows to the slope of his nose and then a finger is being traced over the scar under his right eye. He can see all the questions fly through your head, the way you hold back from tracing the eye patch but stare at it like it’s not supposed to be there. He’s about to clear his throat when a thumb starts tracing his chapped lips before continuing down to his jawline, tickling his 5 o’clock shadow. As he tries to smile patiently at you, you mumble something under your breath that makes Aizawa’s heart stop for just a moment too long before racing at the same speeds as Yamada’s car when he’s late.

“It really is you… you’re just so…” you pause for a moment to swallow thickly and lick your lips, “…rugged.”

Not until you’ve had your (in Aizawa’s terms) grabby little fingers on every part of his face and given his heart an aneurysm with your words, does realization hit you. You seem to shrink and pull away to bow half-way a few times at him. Aizawa grumbles out a weak complaint about personal space and jingle the keys again to find the right one. No matter how advanced his work place is in terms of security and technology, he finds it unbelievable how many different types of keys he is expected carry for the school grounds alone. Logically, he’s aware that he’s fumbling due to your innocent advances but his brain’s not exactly acting calm and rational, so he furrows his brows and as he puts in the correct key, takes in a deep, calming breath.

When he motions for you to enter the apartment, he can’t help but observe you as you curiously peek around while you enter. You don’t toe off your shoes or step up from the genkan until the door behind him is locked and he gestures to the left pair of slippers in front of you. You let out a breath as you mumble, “sorry for intruding…” as if this isn’t your home away from home.

As Aizawa toes off his own shoes, he takes notice of your searching eyes. He jerks his head towards the living room, “she’s probably sleeping on the couch. She can’t hear very well anymore, so she doesn’t greet by the door.”

There’s a clear sort of heartbreak in your eyes that Aizawa recognizes, before you nod and walk in the direction of the living room. While your memory might be gone for the moment, it seems there’s muscle memory still intact as you purposefully step over the loose floorboard he always warns guests about. He smiles at that. Benben seems to spot you from her pillow on the couch because no sooner than you enter the room, he starts hearing the hoarse bleating of the senior kitty in there. She must’ve stayed up when Aizawa suddenly left, since it’s out of routine. She’s never been able to meow properly, which enchanted you since she first bleated at you for a bite of your convenience store-bought onigiri back when the two of you met her for the first time.

He hears you coo at her and can only imagine you both before he turns the other corner for his office to shut down the computer for the night. He quickly rejoins you and finds you with Benben on your lap, purring and headbutting your hands to her heart’s contents. When his eye travel higher to meet yours, he’s taken aback momentarily at the strained smile and wet eyes.

“She looks so loved.” you try to explain, and Aizawa can’t hold back the blush from the compliment. She does look loved now, a little on the fuller side (not by a lot, as her physical health is very important to Aizawa), her coat is shiny despite the coarseness that age brings, and she no longer has that stubborn eye infection it took Aizawa several years to treat out of her; she’s missing an eye now as a result, but she’s healthy.

You look around his living room, smiling and heaving in breaths at all the external proofs for her love; she has a pet staircase to both the windowsill, couch and the dining chair next to his; there are three different cat towers and several cat shelves for her to perch on although they’ve rarely been used for several years now. Aizawa can’t bear to take them down – what if she wants to go on one last adventure to the shelf highway he built for her close to the ceiling? It obviously wouldn’t be safe for her to do so, but robbing her of the options feels cruel to his heart.

When you pet her behind her ear and Aizawa situates himself on the floor pillow, you giggle, “you match.”

You’re referring to the missing eyes and while Aizawa takes no offense from the comment, he can’t help but snort at the straightforward observation. It’s very like you.

“How did you lose it?”

You don’t remove your eyes from Benben as you ask and from the shaky lilt to your voice, he knows you’re afraid of the answer. He’s afraid of telling you, too.

So much bad has happened during those years – you were there during his low points after, and asking that question is like removing the experiences you’ve shared. The grief you’ve suffered.

But he knows you want to know. Before he can answer, you continue, “can you tell me everything? About you… Oboro and Hizashi, too. I was informed it was only you, Hizashi and my mom on my emergency contact list. I know it’s not supposed to be miles long but… yeah…” you trail off and Aizawa’s grateful that you’re not looking at him. He’s not sure he’s able to control his face right now; and the emotion he’s showing wouldn’t be remotely close to soothing for you.

“Uh,” he jerks and clears his throat several times to stall, “when did you say your memory would be back?” he asks instead even if he’s aware of the answer.

You look up and hum thoughtfully, “they said five to seven hours around … two hours ago? So…” you count on your fingers and despite everything, Aizawa huffs out a soundless laugh, “three to five hours? Give or take.”

He inhales sharply. He can’t drive you off for that long, even if he used going to bed as an excuse. You’d just toss and turn in fear of what you’d come to remember.

So he tells you. He retells every painful memory with clear objectivity, pausing to let you process each one, seeing the light slowly dissipate in your eyes for every terrible incident. When he reaches present day, he inhales slowly and holds his breath for a moment to control his own emotions.

You’ve stopped petting Benben who’s sound asleep on your lap now, your hands hanging like lifeless limbs by your side. Aizawa then clears his throat, “you were scouted. In third year. ‘Zashi opened a radio station shortly after graduation. Oboro’s mom still invites us for hotpot for his birthday every year despite the mismatch in dish and weather,” you both laugh at that one – of course she insists on his favorite dish on such an important day. An image of the four of you huddled around, sweating over a pot of delicious food has you throwing your head back in sincere laughter, “you have a prodigy; you inspired me to take a pupil on as well, and he’s graduating this spring… I, uh… I use eye drops now.”

The last tidbit of information makes you turn your head so fast you almost get whiplash. Then, your expression turns stern, “didn’t I tell you! Didn’t I tell you to be careful!” you reprimand and he almost rolls his eye at you. Almost.

You shake your head at him and focus back on Benben, a little more color on you again as the mood has successfully shifted. He’s unsure if you’re pretending to be fine for his sake or if he actually succeeded in making you feel better, but he can’t stifle the yawn that comes out of him as soon as he feels relief.

You look up apologetically, “oh my God I’m so sorry, I’ve kept you up haven’t I? Please, you can just go to bed, I’ll be okay!”

Aizawa wants to argue but he also can’t fight the creaky ache he feels in his bones. He went straight from a night shift to school, napped in the teacher’s lounge and then home to grade papers. He’s dead-tired.

He gets up to carry his futon into the living room and set yours up in his bedroom. Usually, you sleep in the same, bare room as him and Benben, but he feels it might be too much for you without your memories, even if you sleep on separate futons with space in between. You make a joke about the futons but then, in a soft voice admit, “I think it’s nice you sleep on something accessible for Benben…” there’s a warm tone to your voice that makes him blush heavily before he pushes you out of his living room.

“I’ll sleep out here, you take the bedroom.”

You meekly argue about taking his bedroom, but he shuts you down in the same way he’s always done, and urges you to carry Benben in with you. You agree to have the door ajar in case Benben wants to walk around, and you bow your head when you bid him goodnight. Aizawa lets the light in the hallway stay on.

////

You wake up with a hitched breath and sweat on your brow, unsure when you managed to fall asleep. Disoriented, you take in Aizawa’s bedroom; you were supposed to sleep home tonight after your shift though, not to mention that Aizawa’s futon isn’t laid out next to yours. It takes you a moment to gather your bearings until it all comes back to you. You’d lost your memory.

You’d lost yourself. You hug your arms around you as the feeling of being lost still sits heavy in your body and makes you shiver. Seeing Aizawa was terrifying; you’d no idea of the obvious horrors he’d had to endure. You didn’t remember your best friend’s death.

For a moment you control your breathing, making yourself calm down as best as you’re able. It makes sense why Aizawa decided to sleep in the living room, if the last memory of him was a pimple-y teenager and not the gruff man he is today. You close your eyes and think back to right before you entered the apartment.

You roll onto your stomach and hide your face in your hands, letting out a drawn-out flustered groan. Without thinking, you kick your legs on the bedding to alleviate the embarrassment that’s coursing through you at your own actions. You’d just went all up in his face! The sensation of his stubble underneath your fingertips, his warm breath and his chapped but so, so kissable lips.

No!

You groan again, drowning in your one-sided misery of a crush. Your honed Pro Hero senses are completely dulled by your pining, so when Aizawa suddenly throws open the door and asks if you are alright, you screech as you lift your head from the pillow, “Shouta!”

“Shit, sorry, I heard you moving around so I thought you might have a nightmare,” he hurries to explain, secretly relieved to hear you say his given name again. He frowns when he can’t see your face with your back turned to him. Still frozen, you barely breathe before he continues, “...you are alright, right?”

Making a grimace and with no interest in facing him right now, you choke out “mhmyepdefinitelyeverythingsperfect!” in one single breath before you’re forced to inhale deeply. You hear Aizawa’s metallic foot as he walks towards your futon and hear the rustling of his clothes as he bends down in a squat next to you, “you don’t sound perfectly fine to me, though. Do you have a fever? Is it an aftershock from getting your memories back?”

Being the perfectly rational man that he is, he oversteps any boundaries to quickly check your temperature with his palm. Embarrassment can come after he’s made sure you’re okay.

You push his hand away weakly, still looking pointedly at the wall in front of you, letting out a strained laugh, “heehee, I’m just… you’re right, it must be an aftershock, right? Nothing else!”

He lets you swat his hand away without much resistance but stays where he is, letting the silence hang over you both for a minute. Suddenly, he croaks out all hoarse and desperate, “Just tell me if there’s anything, please.”

Your shoulders fall at the voice. Aizawa’s the opposite of having a heart on a sleeve, but you’ve been with him through enough tragedies to know he must be scared shitless right now. Whenever you or Yamada is even remotely bruised, he fusses over you in his own, annoyed way, until he finds you sufficiently healed. You sigh before you let your head fall back onto your pillow, a short moment to gather your thoughts and feelings before having to face him.

It must’ve been a lot for him, when you asked him to recount the years you’d momentarily lost. It would’ve been better to let it be, but he knew you so well and knew you wouldn’t let it go. Curiosity kills the cat, right?

With heavy and slow movement, you turn around so that you’re facing him, hoping your expression won’t betray your real emotions. You sigh and reach out for his hand. It’s shaking but as soon as your warm fingers make contact, he flinches before he relaxes.

Then, he grunts like he’s annoyed and chastises you for worrying him. You giggle, “I’m sorry, you’re tired, right?” you ask, knowing his schedule this week is packed. He usually leaves little wiggle room for emergencies, however many he encounters.

Before he can reply, you pull at his hand and he topples over, half on the futon and half on the floor, on his knees. You laugh and pull him even closer to you, hoping your beating heart isn’t as loud as it feels.

You and Aizawa have cuddled before; loneliness and grief has made you carve out comfort in each other, but nothing else have ever been spoken aloud. No kissing, no romantic notions to trace back to. Having a one-sided crush since high school feels deafening right now, when all the years travel back to you after what only amounts to a moment without them.

You want to tell him how you feel; losing your memories made you realize how much you’d like for him to comfort you with kisses if anything should ever happen; how you’d like for him to hold you without holding back.

He grumbles where his head is rested in your neck after he’s settled, but he makes no effort to move. You nuzzle into the mane of hair and breathe in his scent; it’s a lavender-scented shampoo that Yamada insists on buying for him. He never accepts it without complaining, but he also never showers without using it. There’s a spare in your bathroom, at the Agency’s bathroom and at his teacher’s dorm at U.A.

“Y’know, I was really surprised for a moment that you became a teacher.”

He makes no movement, but you know he’s listening.

“But as soon as I thought about it, it made perfect sense. You care so much it sometimes hurts to watch…”

You feel his fist tighten around your bedding, but he stays otherwise quiet still.

“You hurt watching me, too, right? How we both have a habit of bending over backwards for what we perceive is right.”

You start dragging your hands through his hair, letting out a sigh.

“I like that we know each other so well. I like how after so many years, you’re still right here in my arms…”

You pause as his upper arm snakes around you, a sharp exhale against your neck.

“You’ve never dated anyone. At least, not anyone you’d tell me about, so I have no idea where this will lead me to but,”

You take a moment to gather your nerves. There’s really no backing down now. Even if you regret it, your words have already given your feelings away; there’s nothing you can take back.

There’s nothing you want to take back.

You’re about to continue your confession when Aizawa pushes against your neck, his warm lips, soft despite the dryness, presses against your pulse point. You can hear your heartbeat so loud in your ear that the rustling of the sheets from Benben is indistinguishable to you, the only sensation you’re able to take in being Aizawa’s lips as they briefly pull away from your neck, only to push back higher up, closer to your jaw.

You whine and pout, but it’s shaky and without much force. You want to protest, scold him for interrupting you but suddenly he lifts his head to face you, and you’re faced with wide eyes and blown pupils. He steals a glance at your lips before he licks his own, pink tongue peeking out. You feel like a cornered prey, one that’s about to be devoured by a beast. When he hovers mere millimeters above your lips he pauses as if to ask for permission and the sigh you let out makes him know that everything’s okay. That everything he’s ever wanted, wished for, dreamed of, is real.

That losing your memory for a second made you desperate to make more meaningful ones.

And you kiss.

While curiosity did kill the cat, satisfaction definitely brought it back.

#its been a while since i wrote and posted a full blown fic so im suddenly nervous........ in like the way i used to be when i started! its #little fun to feel that way again after 30+ works!!! #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #bnha fluff #aizawa shouta fluff #reader insert #nohr.writing #nohr.bnha #i honestly MOSTLY hope that this is coherent. i really did shift my perspective half way in bcos i like to flesh out pain apparently KJDASK #ilysm yall<3333 hope u enjoy this smooching offering

[f0xgl0v3]

How does one Elias Bouchard hold his Pipe/The overall murder scene

Tw this like entire post is about the proper way to hold a pipe if you wanna effectively hit someone with it several times repeatedly :3 also spoilers for MAG 80

Guys I am simply a writer and this is just for writing and thought experiment purposes, none of this shall or should be applied to real life and it’s just for the haha extended sounds of brutal pipe murder-

What has come to my life-? I’m talking about Elias Bouchard and how he holds the Pipe to murder people- I, there will be actual Percy Jackson stuff soon. Maybe talking about Camp Jupiter and armor and gear and stuff or something however,

Everyone draws Elias with really weird hand positions on the pipe-? That’s a weird thing to say and the art is fantastic but if your beating someone with a Pipe then there seems to be a way I always thought in my head-

Let’s, for the sake that I’m halfway through season 4 consider the only Pipe murder I am currently aware of would be Jurgen Leitner’s, we can work with this. Elias is standing over him at the other side of a desk while Jurgen is seated I believe-? There are a couple ways we can go about this,

1) Elias hits him while they both are in the neutral position at the desk

2) Elias walks over to Jurgen’s side during the conversation and hits him then

3) Jurgen stands up from his chair and then Elias hits him.

I have had to listen to the sound clip so many times for this- I- okay. So, the beginning of the murder still is Jurgen talking, I think audibly a bit worried. I’d like to make the assumption that while Elias is like “bird stuff always a risk about death” that is when the pipe is revealed, Jurgen is taking the moment to try and reason with him and I think 2 and 3 are the most viable due to the sound they use. In 1’s scenario Elias wouldn’t get enough strength in that first swing (due to the desk being in the way, and Elias most likely having to lean over the desk to try and get a strong strike.

Then, the sound- I believe Elias initially hits Jurgen from the side of the head, think like the same ‘row’ that your temples are on, that vague side of the head. Jurgen is heard with a grunt by the first hit; we don’t hear him fall or anything (which makes me suspect it could be a situation of Elias walking over to the other side of the table) and it doesn’t really sound like Elias moves where he hits very much- continuing to strike that original spot; otherwise we’d likely hear the crunch of bone. Am I making the assumption that the sound design would include the crunch and that I would know what hitting a skull with a metal pipe is, oh yeah totally.

Now, that settles how I think this entire thing played out, Elias revealing the pipe as he walks over to the side, Jurgen looks up in old sad man still seated and is trying to reason with Elias, maybe he even attempts to get up and that is when Elias strikes in the right side of his head (just what makes sense to me, it could be the left either it wouldn’t matter much) and repeatedly hits there 11 times (yes I counted the strikes we hear, no I don’t have anything better to do with my time because I’m putting off writing a script) before like dipping or whatever.

Now, the pipe posture if you will. I see so many drawings of Elias’s hands like this,

Raised, and for all intents and purposes from an art sense it’s rad. It’s a dynamic pose and stuff, and of course this is not a critique on artists (who are way better than me) and how they want to draw this fictional man hold his pipe. However this is my brainrot talking on the ‘hey I think this is how he’d get the most effective swing’ because I’ve listened to two seasons back to back and I no longer have a brain.

But; Elias Bouchard wants the most bang for his buck so to speak. I think holding the Pipe like the tried and true baseball bat would provide this. Elias holding it like in my very bad diagram is good if he’d want to poke or stab someone with the pipe, but it’s really effective if you can get that swing in. So yeah, baseball style; hands together near the end of the pipe and over a shoulder or even over his head if you want to be silly with his posing.

Uh, haha okay. I’m sorry but the rot is all consuming and I’ve been thinking about him a lot, also like Peter Lukas and a bunch of the other sillies but this kinda- forced itself out while I was looking at art of the scene. I, uh, :3 that’s all. I like thinking about the mapping and layout and planning of scenes like these and how the visuals might’ve looked if there were visuals. I promise I probably won’t make any more posts like this for a solid while (however, talking about Bryce Lawerence and my thing in SoN are-imagining that he was the one to kill Gwen… maybe.)

#hehe :3 #idk how to tag this #the magnus archives #tmagp spoilers #tma podcast #tmagp theory #this is really stupid #ridiculous even #I’m sorry if you just want to see the funny pjo stuff I post- #elias bouchard #love that sick little rat man #sorry #okay bye

[4beomy]

★ small talk, big talk | c.bg

synopsis: in which you beg for your annoying seatmate to shut up for just one class. wc: 2.2k genre: fluff, drabble

You were never the one to not be able to focus in a class. There wasn’t a day where you slept during a lesson—okay maybe you’re selling yourself a bit too much— but still, the point stands, you were always focused, prepared whenever a teacher would think it was a good idea to randomly call on you. And frankly, you prided yourself on that.

Until you were doomed. Your math teacher had snapped one day and from the heat of the moment, decided to assign seats again. You groaned—finding her reaction to be an over exaggeration, but nevertheless, you pulled yourself out of your old seat and stood with the rest of your classmates waiting for your name to be called.

“Y/N. You’re here.” you looked at the desk she was pointing at and immediately, you fought the urge to audibly whine. She chose a back table, way too far from the board—way too far for you to actually be able to read whatever she writes on there. Before you could try and remind her that you asked in the beginning of the trimester to be seated in the front due to your embarrassingly poor eyesight—she calls out another name.

“Beomgyu, you’re next to her.”

You’re doomed.

“Miss, I—” you get cut off with your teachers stern voice. “Don’t test me today. Go to your seat Y/N.”

Before you could respond, she had already moved on with calling other people’s names. You just had to suck it up and walk over to your new desk—And bare your new deskmate. It wouldn’t be for too long anyway, you’d talk to her later and convince her to change your seat.

“Introduce yourselves to your new neighbors. By the time I’m done trying to open the slideshow, you should have exchanged the basics.” your teacher instructed.

When you settled your bag on the floor next to your leg, you could see from your peripheral vision that Beomgyu was looking at you. Hesitantly, you glance at him— his head was completely turned to a 90 degree angle tilt, literally staring at you.

“Hey.” he beamed when you finally noticed him, a grin so big you were sure you transformed into a winning lottery ticket for a second.

You didn’t know it was possible for your face to falter, or for the corner of your lips to fall, even when they weren’t up to begin with, but it happened. Because a realization set on you. Beomgyu, the officially certified class disturbance, was going to be sitting next to you. You were in the comfort of your previous seat, being able to roll your eyes everytime he decided to open his mouth—to either make a stupid joke or ask the most idiotic question—and now, that was gone. You were in the comfort of your previous seat, not having to have him close enough for you get a migraine, and now thats gone too.

You exhaled managing to put a weak smile on your face—one that trembled, “Hi.”

Your plan was simple. To just sit, and listen, like you’ve always done until you could go up to your teacher and ask for a seat change.

But that didn’t happen. Not the seat change, not the listening.

“You’ve been seeing just fine the past couple of weeks Y/N. All of a sudden when there’s a seat change, you can’t see?” it was a week after the seats were assigned, and you finally decided to request a seating change. It was torture to put things simply. It was like your ears only picked up Beomgyu’s sound waves and you were very, very close to pulling out your hair—officially declaring your insanity. When you saw her eyebrows raised, questioning the motive behind your request, you internally panic at the thought that she might refuse to change your seat.

“It’s not all of a sudden! I told you about it before when you asked us what seats we prefered! I swear I can’t see the board from where I am right now.”

She sighed, choosing to study you for a minute, then finally saying “Hun, Beomgyu isn’t that bad. You can live sitting with someone new, yea?”

So. That ultimately failed.

New plan. Ignoring your seatmate till the trimester ends and hoping for the best.

“You know, I totally like ice cream. But I don’t like the sweet flavored ones, you know? I mean like, the really really sweet ones. I hate cookies n' cream ice cream. But then—”

It was the daily rambles from Beomgyu, how great. Thankfully, your brain had finally learned to filter out his voice faster. But seriously, was he insane? Who was he talking to and who was listening? Because it was definitely not you.

“Y/N, what about you?”

Your thoughts come to a stop, your brain, for some reason, not filtering out his voice when he decides to call your name.

You would’ve asked what exactly he was talking about, but then, you did have some compassion left in you and you kind of didn’t want him to know that he was talking to the molecules in the air instead of you.

So, you settle for a general response. “Yeah, I totally dooont—” you narrow your eyes at the way he his eyes turned a little sad so you immediately switch it up, “I’m toootally a big fan...?”

You think you said the right thing because a contrast to his sulky face a few seconds ago, a toothy grin spreads on his face, “A big fan? Definitely not bigger than me.”

You let out an awkward chuckle, “Yeah..it’s my favorite” you say the second part quietly, not having the energy to put effort into the white lie.

The minute you hear your teacher coming in the classroom you pull out your notebook. You shoved your hand into your bag, trying to fish out a writing utensil, you get a bit frantic, confused on why you can’t find anything.

You came unprepared.

“Need a pencil?” you hear, then turn your head to the direction of your deskmate. You sighed, nodding. ”Alright, wait a second.”

You expected anything but him getting up, walking to some random student’s table.

You just wanted to run away out of embarrassment when the teacher stopped her lecture, arms crossed, tapping her foot over and over again impatient at Beomgyu’s disturbance.

He seemed tame —-and with what you could make from the small gaps of your fingers that were subtly over your face, he had a smile on. He walked towards you again, a cartoonish, accomplished smile on his face, and a pencil in his hand.

You swallowed the lump in your throat when the teacher gave you a disapproving look, for some reason, and finally continued the lesson.

“Here.” he puts the pencil conveniently on your notebook. But you side eye him, kind of annoyed that he caused such an awkward scene. “Why?” it was barely audible but he catches on, and his eyes look at you again.

“Hm? Oh—oh, it’s because Soobin’s like.. known for having really good pencils.”

“What?”

“Well not good pencils more like—”

“Mind sharing what you guys are whispering about to the class?” your teacher announced, the smile on her face showing the exact opposite of happiness. It was obvious it was directed to you guys because the whole class turns to stare, some rolling their eyes and others snickering.

Beomgyu shook his head quickly. “Sorry Miss.”

“Focus.” she warned and you both nod. When she turned to the board to write again, Beomgyu leaned sideways closer to you.

"It's more like.. Soobin wouldn't mind if you borrow and never give it back." he whispered. "And it would probably be a safer bet to like..take a pencil from him, you know?" he added.

You don't look at him, eyes glued to the board. "We should focus."

"Oh—oh, yeah." he moved away, the childish energy dimming.

You didn't say it but you did find it slightly endearing that he tried to make logic of walking across the classroom to get a pencil for you. Just slightly.

When the next day rolls around and he's talking about his favorite Taylor Swift song for the thirtieth time this month, you're oddly more focused on what he had to say. Even if his opinions were completely invalid.

"I'm telling you, Evermore is objectively the worst Taylor Swift album. Folklore was better by miles."

You narrowed your eyes at him, an unbelievable smile on your face, not believing someone could have such a bad take. Before you could start an argument with him, your teacher had slipped your graded test on your desk—no one noticed, but you did. Even when the paper was faced down, not actually being able to confirm your grade—you could hear her disappointed sigh, and it gave you the hint that you didn't do well.

"Also, the weather has been so bad these days. But even then, I'm just like...it's definitely better than sweaty armpits and bugs everywhere."

You don't focus on what he's telling you, your brain doing its best to filter out his voice as you stare blankly at the paper. You should turn it around and see what you got. It can't be that bad. Maybe not your best, but not that bad. Right?

Like ripping a bandaid, you slammed the paper around. And it dawned on you— the big, fat F.

Which did not stand for fantastic.

You could've used your deduction skills for a second and narrowed down why you did so bad— maybe because you were so busy laughing randomly whenever something that Beomgyu said pops up in your mind ...that you didn't study, maybe—maybe because whenever he would focus on the board, you could steal glances at his side profile, one that you found so genuinely beautiful— no, maybe because you haven't been focusing on your assignments lately...

No, it was Beomgyu. He successfully managed to distract you. Was he happy? Judging by the way you see him still talking, with the prettiest smile you've grown to warm up to very quickly, he is. You don't care if your irrational blaming was irrational. You don't care if you're wrong, your anger was still directed at him. Increasingly by the minute getting more and more annoyed the more you see his mouth move.

"I forgot to ask, but what's your favorite color—"

"Can you shut up?!" accidentally, your voice was way louder than you intended and immediately you're feeling regret when your eyes meet your teachers'. You apologize non verbally, showing the most apologetic face you could make but she was clearly not having it. You're doomed.

"Out. With your bags. Both of you."

Anger overrides the previous emotion, and you flare your nose, hastily carrying the shoulder straps of your bag, storming out. Beomgyu followed behind with his bag hanging on his shoulder, jogging to catch up with you.

He closed the classroom's door behind him, mirroring the way you were leaning on a wall, your leg stretched out in front of you.

"You okay?"

You shot him a glance, confused on why he would ask you that—especially when you basically just embarrassed him.

"Beomgyu—why...Why are you asking that?" your anger had basically dissipated, regret once again finding its way in the pit of your stomach remembering the way you yelled at him.

"Because I don't think you are... I just wanna hear it from you." for the first time, he doesn't look at you while talking, just held his stare at his feet.

"I mean—it was just..." you stopped because to you, it wasn't just a bad grade. It was a bad grade and you were disappointed. Extremely, to the point you had to act like a complete baby with such an outburst. "I failed the test. And then got angry for some reaso—look, I'm sorry I don't know why I yelled at you. It was just the heat of the moment and—"

You didn't notice that Beomgyu had zipped open his bag, taking something out until he offered you a long brown, paper bag.

You hesitantly accepted it, confused on what was happening.

The bag was hot, which makes you even curious so you take a peek of the inside.

Churros?

"I was gonna give it to you after class ended. Also, don't worry, it's completely fresh. My dad got it out of the oven right when I was heading to schoo—"

"How ...how did you know that I liked Churros? Like ...they're my favorite?!" you were semi scared, confused but still really, really happy at the warm cinnamon smell that made you crave shoving the churros down your throat.

Beomgyu gasps, looking at you with wide eyes. "You literally told me yesterday."

You furrowed your eyebrows—until, ah. He was talking about Churros that time? Thank god you were smart enough to read his facial expressions.

You bite your bottom lip slightly trying to hide your smile, looking down at the paper bag. He went out of his way to get you something that you said you liked.

"Thank you." you smile. And in return, he smiles too. Not the over the top grin, it was a heartwarming smile that was more than genuine. He smiled because he was genuinely happy at seeing you happy, not because he's just a person who naturally smiles all the time.

"Give me half, yeah?" he teased.

"Piss off Beomgyu."

a/n: apology drabble for the delay of nbm. u guys deserve this (non proofread) beomgyu fluff. i'm up for part 2 one day bcs i think this is still a bit platonic lol

#beomgyu fluff #beomgyu drabble #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu x you #beomgyu x reader #txt fluff #txt oneshot #soobin fluff #soobin x reader #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun x reader #txt drabbles

[thatbanditqueen]

No One Walks Out Ch 5: Salty Lips

Warnings: Tarot misinformation, penetrative vaginal sex, manipulation, fluff, smut, then angsty tears. 18+ Minors DNI.

Apparently I don't know how to schedule things so I am posting earlier than expected. Please file your complaints accordingly.

Word Count: 9.4 K

Summary: Becky has settled into the rhythm of life at Graceland over the first few days there, though she still has not had a full tour. Luckily, her hosts finally get it together to show her around. She goes to visit her sister, but encounters an unexpected guest. At least for her.

I need to first thank my alpha, @whositmcwhatsit for reading the first draft and giving me feedback as she corrected my grammar. Which is generally bad. Thanks Jade, I some how fooled you into hanging out with me and I would feel guilty for asking you to read my stuff, because it takes you away from your own writing which is necessary and needed for the good of the fandom. But you always make my work better so I cannot feel guilty at all. No, I selfishly will take every glance and glint and comment you give me.

Also thanks to my fellow Elvis sister wives for all their morale support and brilliance. Just being in your orbit is a gift: @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @be-my-ally @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love

If you need to catch up first:

Chapter 4: Kaleidoscope

or start from the beginning: No One Walks Out On Big Daddy Masterlist

Chapter 5: Salty Lips  

11:45 a.m. Thursday, June 19, 1975

Graceland Estate, Memphis, TN

A cardinal twittered loudly, joined by a chickadee, and Becky was so ensconced in the bubble of idyllic life at Graceland that she wondered if this musical rendition wasn’t just for her benefit. Lisa gave an excited hum where she sat next to Becky on top of the picnic table by the pool and slapped down another tarot card.

“Alright, Becky, ‘Page of Swords’, what does this one mean?”

Becky looked closely at the drawing, closing one eye and squinting nearer for effect.

“Well, babt,” Becky mused, trying to stifle a grin and pronounce the girl’s fortune with complete confidence. “They all go together.” She set it next to the other cards they had drawn: Strength, The Chariot and The Moon. Becky was not sure how many cards you were supposed to put down when reading tarot, but four seemed like a good number.

”So?” Lisa slapped her hand on the table.

“Well, so, Page of Swords, as we can see here now, obviously means you are gonna live on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and you’ll have yellow tights, and a pretty pink dress, and a big ol’ sword that you’ll be very good at using,”

“I’m already pretty good with my daddy’s samurai sword, wanna see?”

“Hmmm, maybe later.”

Becky thought of her shooting lesson the other day and decided against more deadly weapons. Getting through the day without letting Lisa kill or be killed would count as a win for bonding with the kid of her new  - lover? fling? friend? - whatever Elvis was to her. She decided to go with fling. A short fling. They were two grown adults having a casual, fun, very short fling. Well, one rock star and one adult. 

Was she even an adult? She had spent most of the last three days playing with a seven year old until the late afternoon, and then playing with Elvis into the night. She felt like she had wandered into a strange, enchanted land where all the adults acted like children and all the children acted like adults. Water fights, target practice, ice cream for breakfast, and impulsive shopping sprees. 

Not having a schedule or others depending on her had been freeing at first, but now, on day four of life at Graceland, Becky had started to feel somewhat unmoored from reality away from the structure of her daily life back home.

She looked down at the table, where Lisa was tapping on the next card, and continued her tarot reading. 

“Ok, see here, Strength, that’s an angel with a lion. Of course, now, that is just symbolic. The angel is your conscience telling you the right thing to do, but you won’t have this moral confidence until you own a lion. They can be very difficult pets, I hear, I recommend getting an ice locker for all the gazelle meat you are going to need to feed it.”

“You’re silly, Becky, no one owns lions as pets.”

“No one yet, but hey baby, according to your fortune, you are gonna change all that. There’s nothing you can do. It’s in the cards. That means it has to happen.”

Lisa rolled her eyes, her lips betraying a smile. “Ok, what else?”

“Well, here, The Chariot, clearly one day you will go to Egypt and meet a prince -”

“And marry him?”

“Well, that depends. On whether you like him or wanna feed him to your lion?” Becky growled and gashed her teeth playfully as if she was going to eat Lisa’s shoulder. Just as Lisa shrieked and hit Becky, the back door slammed and they glanced over to see Elvis’ aunt Delta stagger out.

“Alright, Lisa Marie now, s’getting to be round lunch time. I just got Ma settled out in the rockin’ chair, so it’s time for you to come eat.” Delta looked Becky up and down as she spoke. 

“Whatcha y’all got goin on?” she said, and Becky noticed Lisa stiffen and gather up the cards.

“We’re just playing Old Maid, Aunt Delta.”

Becky raised her eyebrow at Lisa, who just shook her head with a crafty smile. Becky turned to the older woman. Hmmm, I guess these older ladies don’t approve of mystical practices. Or maybe they only let one resident here get away doing whatever he wanted. 

She thought of Elvis’ grandmother, who had turned to her after he had left the dinner table the night before, taken her arm and whispered low:

“I hope ya don’t break his heart, like all the rest. That young boy ova there has been through so much. Don��t know why he canna find a good woman. Guess they just don’t make us like they used ta.” Minnie Mae had then released Becky’s hand and spit part of her chew into the tea cup next to her dinner plate. 

Becky only had a moment to feel uneasy before Elvis swooped back in and pulled her into the den and onto his lap, where he cajoled Lisa to perform “Crocodile Rock” for the group on top of the coffee table. 

No, I reckon these good ole girls who sit around bemoaning the lack of any good women left would probably not go in for tarot cards, Becky thought, as she looked at Elvis’ aunt.

“How are you doing today, Ms. Presley?”

“Hmmm, it’s Biggs. And it’s Mrs. And never you mind, you can save it, I don’t care for you kissing up ta me. I know your kind.” 

Becky tightened her smile at Delta’s grimace, wondering if that was the faint odor of vodka wafting off the older woman. Just then, Delta weaved towards her and gripped a nearby chair to steady herself. Her eyes narrowed at Becky in judgment. 

“You are like all the others, waiting around for your payday. Out for all you can get. Bout as useful as gum on a boot heel. Humph.”

“Oh brother, here we go!” Lisa jumped up and walked past Delta. “C’mon, Becky Butt, let’s go get some chocolate cake.”

Becky smiled even wider at Delta as she followed Lisa, and watched the older woman scan the pool area, before tottering back to the house behind them.

“Chocolate cake? That doesn’t sound like a good lunch.”

“Oh, it’s the best lunch, don’t worry, I told Nancy before she left this morning, so it’s all ready.”

“They - they  let you have that for lunch”

“Let me?” Lisa grinned a devious grin and her eyes sparkled. “I’m the boss round here when Daddy’s asleep. If they ever give me any guff, I just lay down tha law an let ‘em know how it is, jack.”

“Oh? And how is it?”

“Get with the program or git!” Lisa held the door to the kitchen open for Becky, and grabbed the milk out of the fridge.

Sure enough, there in the middle of the counter was a tall, chocolate cake adorned with a circle of pink frosting rosettes. Lisa poured two tall glasses of milk  and carefully set out china plates with all the hospitality of a true, Southern hostess.

“Don’t worry, Becky, it’s vegetarian!” Lisa announced, grabbing the biggest knife Becky had ever seen, almost the length of the short, seven year old’s arm, as she proceeded to carve two large, unwieldy pieces from the beautiful dessert.

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

Becky was certain that her chocolate cake was about to make an encore appearance as the golf cart whipped around the bend. Grabbing the top of the seat, she looked over at Lisa as the little girl pushed her foot harder on the pedal and yelped with glee while she steered them down the grass behind the carport.

“I didn’t realize golf carts could go this fast.” Becky gripped her seat tighter, her knees jostling up and down against the metal bar at the front.

“Oh yeah, these are top o’ the line, Becky. Watch, I can get it to go even fast—” Becky put her hand up in protest.

“Nope, not necessary, this - this is great. Very refreshing in the heat.”

Lisa pushed her feet down a little further and Becky held on for dear life as the air whipped through her dark curls and reminded her very much that she was alive and wanted to keep it that way.

“Ok, so this is the stable,” Lisa pointed to a large white building coming up on their left side. “It’s called House of the Rising Sun, and most people think it's after a song, but actually, it's named after Daddy’s horse, Rising Sun. Though I always say he should be named Setting Sun, on account of the fact that the sun is usually setting before Papa gets up and goes riding.” Lisa slapped her thigh, as if making a rimshot on a drum set, and Becky realized this was her cue to laugh, so she let out a chuckle and rubbed Lisa’s hair.

“Yeah, that is a much better name. Or Sleeping Bear, hmmm?” Lisa giggled. 

“Or Grumpy Sleepy Bear.”

“That one sounds perfect, what do you think? We have time to paint a new sign?”

Lisa laughed as she drove them on, showing Becky the trailer where her daddy’s nurse, Tish lived, and the other where Billy, Jo and their kids lived, and they wound their way around the back of the paddock.

“That’s where Daddy likes to race his horses with the guys.”

“For special occasions? Or just for fun?”

“Oh, he does it to show off for the fans.” 

Becky snorted down a laugh and and attempted to catch her hair and pulled it back up as it escaped into the wind. 

“Um, ha - how do you know he does it for the fans? He tell you that?”

“No, my mama told me; he likes to race the horses round for no good reason, just to show off for the fans cuz he’s a big show off and he’ll never really be a true questrion.”

“Well, I don’t know, I mean your mom may not know —”

“Oh, she does, she knows everything. Daddy’s always saying my mama’s the biggest know-it-all you’ll ever meet. And hippo cat. Why would he call a woman a hippo and a cat?”

“Hmm.” Becky grabbed the side rail as the golf cart swerved back around towards the mansion, trying not to laugh at Lisa’s casual description of her parents. “I bet he meant something else and said it wrong, cuz you’re right, doesn’t make any sense.”

Lisa seemed to agree, nodding her head. And on to the next point of interest, her proud, confident tour guide voice explained that the house butted up to fence over there used to be her granddaddy’s. 

They drove past the throng of fans at the front gate near the bottom of the hill they were coming up and Lisa asked Becky if she needed any money or a new camera. Becky wasn’t sure exactly how this related to the crowd, but she had some suspicions as she looked over her shoulder at the people mulling aroun down at the gate. So, instead, she rubbed the sweat off her forehead and complained about the heat. 

Parking the golf cart back at the side of the house, Lisa led the way back inside, suggesting they cool down in the pool. Becky didn’t have a bathing suit, but jumped in wearing her tee shirt over underwear, letting her feet push off the rough, concrete bottom of the pool. She felt an almost instant sense of relief and rejuvenation as she sprung up weightlessly through the cool water and floated to the top, rubbing the chlorine out of her eyes. This was, of course, a futile exercise, as more chlorine water was in her face almost immediately, followed by the sounds of Lisa laughing from where she was splashing Becky a few feet away.

“Oh, you are gonna get it!”

Lisa’s screams ricocheted through the patio as Becky swam over, grabbed her and threw her playfully back into the water.

They raced each other like this for a bit, and then played catch in the water. Lisa particularly liked trying to aim directly in front of Becky, and shrieked with delight when Becky let the ball hit the water and then dramatically flustered about in the wake of the splash, uttering out a loud, affected:

“Now heyyyyy! That’s not fair!”

After a while, Mary brought them out some lemonade, and ham and cheese sandwiches, and they dangled their feet in the side of the pool, eating. Becky pulled the ham out of her sandwich, and Lisa opened her mouth, motioning for Becky to drop the cold cut in, chuckling.

“Hmmm, we make a good pair, huh?” 

Lisa nodded, speaking with a full mouth:

“Mmmm choww nuhff.” She swallowed, and took a sip of lemonade. “How’d you get to be such a good swimmer? You don’ all kinds of fancy moves out there, I never seen anyone swim sideways like that or stay underwater so long.”

“I was on my high school swim team. Then I used to lead canoe trips down the Cahaba, that’s the big river where I’m from, over in Birmingham.” She ruffled Lisa’s hair. “And I was a camp counselor for a while in Mississippi, we spent most of our summer in the pool. I reckon I was a fish in my past life, that’s what Helga used to say.

“Your nanny?”

“MMhmm. You have a good memory, kid, I can tell. You’re whip smart.”

Lisa giggled and splashed Becky with her foot. Water was violently flying up in the air as they commenced in an epic foot splash fight when a loud, deep ‘Ahem’ made their feet still. Lisa’s lips were pursed, emitting a nervous laugh and Becky met her eyes with frightened giddy trepidation as they turned in unison to see the tall, broad silhouette of Elvis behind them. Becky coughed nervously.

His thumbs hung down from the belt at his white trousers and he tilted his sunglasses down to look over them, adjusting his stance.

“MMMM what's - a -a - ahappenin’ ova round these parts, mhmmm?” Elvis tried unsuccessfully to keep his lip from quirking into a smile as his voice boomed out comically deep.

Lisa giggled, and pointed. “Becky started it!”

Gaping, Becky pushed her into the pool with a whispered, “Thanks a lot, Lisa Marie Benedict Arnold Presley!” Then jumped up to say hi to Elvis.

His face beamed with a grin but then, as she got closer, his lip tightened and his chin tilted out as he took in her swimsuit.

“Becky, what the hell are ya wearin’, girl?”

Becky pulled her shirt down, and Elvis went to grab her hands to stop her, as it just made her nipples more pronounced through the thin, wet fabric.

“Elvis, I don’t have a bathing suit, I didn’t think it was that big of a differe—”

“Honey, I can see your hair through your panties,” he whispered gruffly, wrapping Becky in the thick, white, suede jacket he’d been wearing. As part of his outfit. Outside. In June. In Memphis. Becky rolled her shoulders, trying to shirk it off, looking into his eyes imploringly.

“Elvis, I’m all wet, it will ruin this suede and get it all dirty. It’s so humid, too, I just th—”

“Becky, don’t worry about the jacket.” He pulled her in, unable to resist flicking her over her nipple imself as he scolded her to cover up. “Anyone could see you out here.”

“Baby, no one is out here.”

“But they could be, boy, they could be.. ‘Sides, think now what if a band of drugged-out commie burglars jumped the back fence, and I, I had to send you running to safety at that motel across the street? You don’t wanna be waiting for me and the boys and the police in public like this.” He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

“Elvis, that’s ridiculous - what is the likelihood tha—”

“Now, c’mon on, you never know, it’s getting rougher every day out there. These are the things ya gotta consider.”

Becky was about to argue with him further, that he was being paranoid, and where did he even come up with this stuff, commie drug dealer burglars? She thought of Elvis doing some of the karate moves he had taught her as a band of crazy-eyed youths scaled the back wall, and almost giggled. However, she was suddenly distracted by the fingers tracing over her hips, underneath the suede jacket, and she shivered as she felt goosebumps rise up on the back of her neck, still chilled from the water. Elvis leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she closed her eyes with a low gasp, feeling his belly press into hers.

“Good thing you got me around to think of every angle.” Elvis clicked his tongue and point to his head. ”Go on upstairs and get cleaned up, wanna give you a tour of Graceland.” He patted Becky on the butt as he turned her to the house.

Shuffling forward in the comfort of her new mobile suede sauna, Becky heard Lisa pull out of the water and ask her dad if they could have a bonfire tonight with hot dogs and baked potatoes and corn and s’mores and coconut cake and ice cream.

“Course, baby, jus let Mary and Charlie know how you want it.” 

Becky opened the door at the side of the house, she looked back to see Elvis kneeling and smiling as he wrapped Lisa in a towel. 

“You’re the boss, booger, I jus’ work here.”

Becky could feel the brightness radiating from Lisa’s broad smile as she went inside, and she shook her head as she mused to herself how sweet they were together. The way Elvis spoiled his daughter was charming when Becky pushed aside her own parenting philosophy, which she had always considered to be overly permissive until spending this last week at Graceland. 

She frowned at the prospect of having to parent with someone like him, and felt a sharp pang of sympathy for Priscilla, a woman whom Becky had always regarded as a bit of a cold Yankee. As if you could ever know what someone is like from reading gossip magazines, silly girl. 

Getting dressed, Becky chided herself for not telling Elvis about her earlier tour of the estate. It was just that he had looked so intent as he told her what they were doing, and the sound of his voice gently commanding her made her agree with whatever he said, take whatever he offered, do whatever he wanted to do. 

Yeah, a long term relationship with this man is trouble. Becky reflected on how relieved she had been when Lisa didn’t wake up and come get her until 10:30 that morning, instead of 8 a.m., like she had the first day, and felt a bit disgusted with herself. Ugh, Elvis’  lifestyle is warping your judgment. Sleep all day, play all night, and now I have to go pretend that I haven’t already seen the grounds of Graceland.

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

The dirt shifted under Becky’s Keds as she walked beside Elvis towards the stables, holding his hand as he squeezed it tightly and turned to look at her, eyes soft and bright as he spoke. Becky summoned a look of awe as if seeing the building for the first time.

“Right, now this is the House of the Rising Sun, on account of my horse, Rising Sun. Though I reckon I shoulda named him Setting Sun, because, ya know, that’s usually when I’m getting up.” Elvis looked at Becky expectantly, and she forced a giggle, leaning into him as they walked into the building.

The sound of horses’ snorting and whinnying greeted them, and Becky followed Elvis as he grabbed a handful of sugar cubes from the front counter and leaned against the white gate of the first stall, waggling his eyebrows at Becky as she cautiously stepped forward. He took her hand, unrolling her fingers and putting a piece of sugar in the middle, then clicking his tongue as the large palomino nuzzled into him, nickering and searching for treats.

“Now, go on, he won’t bite ya - much.” Elvis smirked, watching as Becky rolled her lips in and put out her hand, shrieking at the tickle of the horse’s chin hairs on her hand.

“Is this one yours?”

“MMhmmm, this is Rising Sun,” Elvis told her, turning to ruffle the blonde tuft of hair between the golden horse’s ears.

Becky cautiously stroked the white blaze down the middle of his face, stopping to rub his muzzle as he sniffed her hand for more sugar. She looked into Rising Sun’s large brown eyes, wondering how such a majestic creature could be tamed, and how quickly he would trample over her for more sugar.

“He’s beautiful. And terrifying.” She said, then looked up at Elvis. “Just like you, I suppose.”

Elvis’ fingers caressed over Becky’s dress, stopping at the small of her back to rub into her tenderly. 

“Oh now, don’t tell me ya afraid of me, now honey. Or these horsies, are ya Becky Butt?” He moved behind her, his hand trailing slowly over her arm, down from her shoulder, until it was over the back of her palm. He slowly guided her palm up to smooth over the side of Rising Sun’s face and cheek, leaning into whisper into her neck. “See, now, now, see? He’s a good boy, gentle and well trained as can be. Ain’t got nothin ta fear from hims.” 

Elvis kisses warmed her skin, and Becky shuddered as his lips crushed into her. Moaning, she dropped her hand and turned into him, biting her lip in anticipation as Elvis rolled back on his feet and then forward, pressing her into the white pole that separated the stalls. Rising Sun grunted at them and blew his nose, and Becky squealed at the feeling of his large, gummy mouth chewing at her hair. Elvis' mouth quirked into a smile, but his hand rubbed her side more intently, and a fierce, starved look animated his eyes.  

“Get now, silly horse, that ain’t hay.” He gently pushed Rising Sun away, and pulled Becky into him, gripping her tightly.

A tingle burned in Becky’s belly and she breathed out in hushed desire.

“Huh. How - how does my hair look?”

“Looks a a a, a whole lot better than it's gonna once I’m through wit ya.” Elvis said softly, through a high breathy giggle. Then he looked down, bashfully, his hand rubbing Becky’s waist up and down then pinching her on both sides. Becky giggled, pulling herself into his frame, her hand working up over his chest as she kissed his jaw. 

“Why, Elvis Presley, I declare, are you - are you trying to seduce me? In the barn?”

He shook his head, a goofy expression pushed his lips into a pout.

“Depends.”

Becky arched her eyebrow, her fingers toyed with the high blue collar of Elvis’ shirt. “Mmmmmm? Depends on what?”

Elvis withdrew, blushing, his jaw tightening, suddenly changing his mind from whatever he had been thinking about doing,  “Neva mind, baby. Here, let me introduce ya to the other horses.”

Becky followed him, brushing her hand over the top of his belt and sweeping along his back. 

“Ok darlin’, you’re the boss.” Pushing her hand around him, Becky leaned into Elvis, and he drew her tighter into his side, looking ahead to give a large, black horse a sugar cube.

“This here, now, this boy is special, this is Ebony’s Double, come from a real champion stud, Ebony Masterpiece.”

Becky put her hand up to the horse’s neck, feeling his muscles ripple under his silky black coat as she rolled her hand over him. Breathing in, her eyes locked with Elvis as she caught him looking down at her, and she thought about reaching up on her tiptoes to try and kiss him, but instead kissed his shoulder. It was easier, and she relished the way he squeezed her into him in response. His bottom lip dropped down with his chin, and his voice came out in a raspy croak.

“Hey there, lil’ girl.”

Becky nuzzled in, and shifted the rubber soles of her shoes to pivot and bring her closer into Elvis' chest.

“Hey,” she whispered into his armpit.

Elvis brought her chin up and leaned down, his hand moving to cradle her neck as she curled her fingers into his shirt. Gentle kisses became more fervent as his hands crept lower until they cupped her bottom and Elvis was holding Becky up. Notched above his tummy, Becky’s knees bumped up awkwardly against his elbows, and Elvis chuckled as he carried her towards the back of the barn, almost dropping her with a mild stumble. That would have been the end of the white suede suit. But he quickly recovered, grunting as he jostled Becky up and smiling at the sound of her breathy chuckles as she held onto his shoulders while they staggered to the back of the barn. Becky could hear the sound of horse’s hooves, grunts and neighs, but they were peripheral to the sound of the heartbeat pulsing through her ears.

Becky felt the edge of the workbench where Elvis placed her atop. They were at the back of the stables, next to a saddle presumably left for repair. Beckys legs hitched on either side of Elvis' body, and she dragged her thumb over his cheek, moaning out as his lips found that spot on her neck once more and his hands moved under her skirt, slowly, carefully, tugging on her underwear.

“Hey,” she murmured. Elvis cheeks reddened above a smirk as his dark blue eyes looked down at the ground.

“Hey,” he breathed out in a deep voice.

Becky fell back on the table, resting on her wrists.

“Hey.” she waggled her eyebrows and dangled her legs, then tightened them at his side.

He shook his head, unbuttoning his trousers and moving over her, his lips feathering above her as he whispered: “Heyyyyyyy.”

Becky gasped as she felt him thrust slowly upwards into her, moaning out into his mouth. 

“Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.”

She wrapped her legs around him, rocking her hips to meet him in the slow, gentle cadence of their love making. His eyes narrowed on hers as his movements became more deliberate, and his thumb found the slick over her clitoris, swirling in time to their needy rolls back and forth over the workbench. Heat coiled in her belly, and Becky leaned back as a guttural cry escaped her mouth.“Heeyyyyyy fucking ohmygod heyyyyyyYYYYYY GODDAMMMIT” as her climax overtook her.  

Elvis leaned forward, peppering kisses over her collarbone and burying his head in her bosom where he continued to slow move in and out of her until he came with a vehement grunt and remained there, head in her chest, panting through the final thrusts before stilling completely. 

Becky relished the weight of his body pressing down on her, insistent, immediate, she wanted it to crush her forever. His shaggy swath of black hair moved as Elvis’ chin protruded forward, and she met his blue eyes, looking up at her from his smug, boyish expression. She melted in the radiance of his smile. “Hey.” Elvis blushed, again, then grunted as he pulled himself up and grinned at Becky’s playfully shove.

“Hey is for horses, Presley,” she gasped, and he laughed as he zipped up, bending down to restore her panties to their rightful place.

She wondered if she had made the wrong first impression on the horses, as they ambled out of the stable and back toward the house.

“Hmmm, so that was the tour huh?”

“I think that’s all the tour I can manage right now, lil girl.”

“OK, well, Lisa already showed me the smokehouse, and I’m definitely not having sex in there.”

“Hmmm, well, figured you should know by now, telling me something isn’t gonna happen just about guarantees I havta try.” He slapped her bottom  and she shoved him away, only to have his arm instantly around her, drawing her into the warmth of his body as he kissed her head.

“Just so you know, Becky, I did not intend to get busy back there.”

Becky nestled into his shoulder as they walked. She could still hear the sounds of twenty horses behind them if she focused, joined by the sound of crickets and cars on the far off roads buzzing into the twilight of early evening. Above it all, she could feel the grain of Elvis' voice as it rumbling into her ear, heating the side of her neck with each word.

“I, I  - I just, well, suddenly couldn’t help myself. Don’t feel that way very often, honey, I think - ” He stopped talking abruptly and turned Becky in to face him.

“Honey, now stop walking already, I’m tryin’ to tell ya something.”

As he looked at her, he noticed that her hair really had come half out of the up twist she had styled it in that evening, and he paused to take out her hair pins, freeing her curls and arranging them over her shoulders.

“There, better.” He nodded with satisfaction. “What was I sayin’? Oh yeah. OK. Here it is. I think I’m starting to really fall for ya, baby. I think, well, I think you should move up here. Can’t bear ta think about taking you back to Jackson next week.”

“This week,” Becky muttered, crossing her arms. “Sunday.”

Suddenly the buzzing, post-coital glow disintegrated and she stood still trying to process what he had said.

He took her shoulders in his hands. “Think about it. Didn’t you say you have a sister here in Memphis?”

Becky nodded, her mind still swimming, wondering if there was any way in hell she could, would, should pursue this. Looking up into Elvis’ eyes was like diving into a sea of endless optimism where everything was possible.

“Hey, I got a business meeting I gotta handle tomorrow night, maybe you could go visit your sister? I was thinking you probably would want to while you're up here anyway. And you can think things over. How it would be, if I got you a place up here, come live with your lil girl in Memphis?”

Becky stood there, nodding again, looking back down at the house. Elvis started to walk.

“Don’t just stand there woman, get in here. The most handsome man in the world just asked if you’d be his baby, least you can do is give him some sugar and say thank you.”

Becky leaned back into Elvis' open arm and kissed his chest. “Hmmm, just took me by surprise is all. I, um, I need to think about it, that’s a big deal, Elvis, I , well, I feel strongly about you too.”

She tickled his side as they walked, and he jerked back with a, *Hey, now.*

“You’re right, though, I should try and see my sister. Tomorrow night, I guess.”

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

6:15 p.m. Friday, June 20th 1975

Still at Graceland, for now…

It was one of the new dresses Elvis had bought her that week, a purple, jersey halter dress, that Becky pulled over her head, before asking Lisa to help clasp the simple, diamond drop necklace around the back of her neck. Lisa jumped back, and put out her wrists for a spray of perfume as Becky doused herself and twirled around.

“How do I look?” Lisa put her hand to her chin, thinking carefully. 

“I think you need more eye make-up.”

“Ha, maybe, but trust me, my sister is the opposite of glamorous. She’s a judge. And I’m crashing a dinner party, so I think modest, simple, less-is-more sort of look is what I want.”

“Well,” Lisa sighed, ”you definitely nailed the less part. You’re hardly wearing any diamonds. Sure you don’t wanna borrow some of mine?”

Becky fidgeted with the ring she was wearing, the gift Elvis had given her that first night at Graceland. It was almost too large and gaudy for her style, let alone her sister Deborah’s taste. But it had come to be a comforting talisman, something she felt and twisted when she felt nervous or out of her element here with Elvis, doing whatever she thought she was doing. *Acting like an immature teenager who just discovered what sex is*, she thought to herself. 

Becky also sensed Elvis would be hurt if he saw her without the ring, because he’d mentioned how nice it looked on her several times, usually taking her hand and kissing the ring there before turning her palm and kissing the center of her hand. And pulling her in for a kiss. *Ughhh, these kisses*. Even the way his dry lips bumped over hers at first touch caused a burning electricity to electrify her face and she became instantly incapable of reason. 

Becky sighed, she had this impending sense of doom, her inner Cassandra, as Ida would say, always on high alert to call out trouble at the slightest provocation. Just trust him. This is fun. This feels right. Everything is ok. Wear the damn ring to Debbie’s dinner party.

Becky’s dress swished around her legs as she carefully walked down the staircase, trying not to trip in the orange platform heels Elvis had picked out at the boutique during a late night shopping spree on Wednesday. As she descended, she saw him whispering with Charlie, then the two men heard her and turned around, smiling in an eerie unison. Elvis was somewhat dressed up for his business meeting, in a dark red suit with a light blue dress shirt with a high, starched collar framing his face.

“There she is, Charlie. There’s the most beautiful gal in the world. And the smartest. And the funniest.”

Becky teetered on her platforms as she put her foot down another step.

“And the most graceful woman in the world.” He let out a low guffaw with out, and Becky narrowed her eyes at him

“Oh, keep laughing, Elvis Aaron Presley, I’mma get you for that. Buying me mile-high shoes an then laughing at how I walk in theses unnatural torture devices!”

Becky ran down the rest of the stairs and leapt onto his waist, ruffling his hair as Elvis chuckled.

“God, crazy woman, tryin’ ta kill me?” Becky kissed his forehead as he jostled her up and down, then placing her safely on the ground.

“Mhmmm. Just wanted to give you a kiss for good luck with your business dinner.”

Elvis kissed her back on the cheek as he ushered her and Charlie out of the door with a swat to the butt and a “See ya later, sweetheart.”

Charlie’s white Pontiac was waiting in front for them and they walked around, Charlie leading to open her door. Just as Becky was about to duck into the passenger seat, she saw the long, black snout of Elvis’ Stutz Blackhawk rolling up the driveway, Jerry at the steering wheel. Next to him sat the thin, blonde frame of Linda Thompson outlined against the dark, red leather interior. Jerry was a statue, stoic and serious as he pulled up and Linda burst out of the car to stride over.

“Charlie Hodge, you handsome man, where you runnin’ off to this evening? And who’s your friend?”

Charlie let out a shrill, high-pitched laugh, wondering to himself how Jerry had managed to arrive twenty minutes earlier than he had been told. Becky smiled awkwardly as she watched Linda give Charlie an air kiss on each side of his face, and then turned to Becky and her tight, wide forced cheerful smile.

Charlie stammered quickly, “Ugh, Linda, this is my cousin Becky, from Birmingham, come up to visit while her kid is at summer camp. I, ugh, well I -”

“He promised me I’d get to meet Elvis while I was here,” Becky gushed, summoning all of her energy to force her tongue to sound excited. She watched Jerry get out of the car and walk to join them. His lips were pursed, and his shoulders were stiff.

“Oh, well, it just dills my pickle to meet Charlie’s family, I feel like we’re practically family ourselves, seein’ how much time I spend with this good ole boy.”

Becky tried very hard not to tense up as Linda threw her arms around her to squeeze her tight. Linda wore a red, satin evening gown with cutouts along the side that emphasized her the curves of her sveltetorso and the wide hips below. Becky felt as though her tall, awkward fleshy figure and bust overwhelmed Linda’s body completely.

“Gosh, I just love that dress,” Linda exclaimed, adjusting the layers of Becky’s hair off her shoulder. “Though I don’t know if I could pull that color off, mhmmm, don’t know if that would be my choice, but it's so you, isn’t it?”

Becky smiled. “That’s so sweet of you to say.”

“So, Charlie, the old boy been behaving?” Linda winked at Becky, then whispered conspiratorially. “You know, Elvis is a good, Christian man, s’just that the devil is mighty powerful, hmmm, know what I mean?”

“MMMhmmmm.”

Becky nodded. It was like she was back in high school and one of the popular girls had waltzed up to her desk at the school newspaper, indirectly ordering her to do a story about the committee decorating the homecoming game bleachers. Ughhh.  Becky steeled herself, falling back on the niceties that she was well versed in.

“I can’t even imagine! Gosh, it’s so exciting to meet you, I’ve seen your pictures in the paper and, of course, Charlie has told us about you. But you are just more precious in person, you really are.”

Linda gave Becky another hug. “Well bless your heart, Becky. Aren’t *you* the sweetest.”

Jerry coughed. “Hm, yeah, we better get going.”

Linda shrugged her shoulders. “Ugh, I know, we got this Police Charity Dinner to go to, I flew in from LA just for this. I guess the Lord saw fit for me to make it. And meet you! I hope I get to see you again while you are visiting, are you staying here? With Charlie?”

“Oh God no.”—“No she aint!”

Charlie and Becky both answered together. Becky smiled big again, hugging Linda one more time. From the big, wide-eyed puppy dog look on her face, Becky felt she seemed to expect it. “No, no, I’m staying with my sis - sorority sister from college, who lives here, we’re actually just heading there now, for dinner. In fact, we better scoot, eh cuz?” Becky looked at Charlie, and sat into the car.

Charlie closed the door, a big  smile at Linda as Jerry led her up the steps into the house, and Linda waved goodbye. “I hope y’all have a the best night, see you again real soon!”

A tense feeling pushed up from Becky’s tummy and seized her shoulders in a tight anxious grip. It was one thing to know you were spending the week with a man who was seeing several women at once. It was another thing to come face to face with one and have to lie about who you were and what you were doing. Becky felt dirty, dirty and sick. She didn’t know how she could possibly face her perfect fucking sister, Deborah, and Debbie’s husband Steve, another lawyer, and the various lawyer professional type guests she expected to be at this dinner party. Charlie patted her thigh, seeming to intuit her thoughts, at least in part.

“Ya know, he’s not a bad guy, the boss man. He carries a heavy burden. And Linda’s moved out to LA to try and break into the movie biz. She had him buy her a home here in Memphis. It’s like they both know it’s over but neither one can bear to pull the trigger. And she knew how it was to date someone like him.”

Becky nodded, telling herself not to cry, and leaned against the window, hitting her head on the cool glass a few times as she swore under her breath at how stupid she was to be here. She muttered to herself in yiddish: 

“Ugh, whenever you have choices, oy vey, my sheyna maidel, boy oh boy do you somehow always manage to pick the worst. Your picker is broken, that’s what it is. When you go home, you are turning your love life over to Ida and her yenta brigade. There is a reason they used matchmakers in the old country. People are incapable of making good choices in men when left to their own devices. Stupid, foolish, idiot girl!” She hit her head on the window one last time, and then realized they had pulled up in front of Debbie’s house.

Charlie rubbed her shoulder. “I’ll be out here waiting when you’re ready. I - he - I - he’s gonna be dropping Linda off at the other house. It was, it is, all part of the plan. You see, her brother’s in the police force here. It, ugh, it just made sense that she would be his date for this big charity ball fundraiser for the cops.”

Becky nodded, half in a daze, trying to mentally prepare for her sister, for the dinner party, and for Elvis later.

“Hmmm, yeah, no, totally makes sense, absolutely.” She breathed in, then looked over at Charlie’s apologetic face. “Wait, you’re just gonna wait here?”

“Yeah, the boss, he, well, he wanted me to look after you. On account of all the druggies running wild these days.” Becky nodded. 

“Right. The drugged out commie burglars, those are clearly the biggest threat to my livelihood right now. Not Elvis Presley and his selfish manipulative ways. Not his powerful girlfriend, or her cop brother. Not my family and their judgment. No, no no, it’s the invisible commie drug criminals supposedly lurking everywhere. Well, thank god you’re here Charlie, I feel so much safer.” 

She slammed the car door, knowing it was unfair to take it out on Charlie, but the look on his face when she bent to the window made her heart sink even further before she uttered one word of apology. Because his goofy, winsome smile told her she was not the first woman to yell at him like this. Not only did he seem to expect it, he had mentally braced himself for it. Becky’s face softened apologetically. 

“I’m sorry, for that. I’ll try not to be more than an hour.”

“S’ok, we’re family now, cuz.” 

Becky knew that Charlie’s smile was meant to be reassuring, but it made her stomach drop even more as she turned and braced herself for a night at the Hoffman - Blumfeld’s (very intentionally hyphenated modern family of the 1970s) Dinner Party.

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

To say the night was uncomfortable and embarrassing would have been generous. Everyone else at the dinner party was dressed in jeans, khakis or linen pants and some sort of comfortable blouse or semi-casual shirt, and Becky felt she stood out like a Vegas showgirl at a library full of nerds. Which was probably the best way to describe Debbie, her husband Steve and their social circle. She was grateful it had been Debbie who opened the front door, so she could walk Becky into the side room and they could make their flustered hellos alone. 

Debbie wore a pair of sensible khakis and a tasteful floral button up top tucked in. As predicted, Debbie wore no make-up. And all judgment, though she tried to repress and be loose and fun.

Six years older than Becky, Debbie had always been half friend/half-parent to her, and this was a characteristic she inhabited calling out “Rebecca, please come in!” when she greeted Becky at the door.

Thank god for wine, the Hoffman-Blumfeld intentionally hyphenated household had some very good bottles of wine on offer and, after sipping one glass gracefully, and the another quickly in the kitchen, Becky was able to exhale and confront the evening with a blundering fort of confidence. She decided to pretend the meeting with Linda never happened, and stumbled confidently through her description of her relationship. She was dating a man who worked in the music business, after meeting him with Danny at a radio event fundraiser for the tornado in Mississippi. Was it serious? Well, sort of, he had invited her to Memphis for the week to meet his daughter, and he was trying to persuade her to move there. But her very successful life managing Saul and Ida’s store, and all her f.’

riends, made her reluctant to leave Jackson.

“I’m just taking a day at a time.” Becky winked and sipped her wine, before taking another mouthful of salmon.

After dessert, Debbie cornered her in the kitchen and asked if they could talk somewhere. Putting up her finger while she poured another glass of wine, Becky nodded and followed Deb to a bedroom, where she sat on a tasteful quilt blanket and had a tasteful restrained conversation about the impossibility of letting her father see Ruth secretly the next time she was in Birmingham.

“She is his only grandchild, Becks.”

“Well, they should have thought about that possibility when they kicked me out. Three months pregnant. Pronounced me a shonda, and disowned me.”

“Do you really want to have Ruth grow up without her grandparents?”

“I didn’t make that decision, Debbie, they did. Maybe, maybe, maybe if Papa was willing to admit how wrong they were, and stand up to Mama, and if he had any backbone at all and publicly welcomed me home for everyone to see, for Ruth to experience a true family, maybe.”

Debbie responded with a knowing look. “Well, I told Papa I was gonna see you when he called earlier, and I promised to ask, but I don’t blame you. I wish Ruth was here now, it’s been too long. And this guy, hmmm? Sounds promising. He wants you to move here?” Becky gulped her wine down first, rubbing her sister's arm. 

“Yup, yes, mhmmm. Oh yeah, finally, right? Everything’s coming up Becky. I can’t wait for you to meet him, because I’ll definitely be back up here with Ruth after she finishes camp. Ah, yes, mmhmmm.” She downed the last sip of wine, smiling so enthusiastically she almost laughed at how absurd the charade was. “I feel like, ugh, finally, right? I’m finally getting that happiness I searched for, for so long. ”

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

“You are never going to find happiness.” Becky said to the fork of coconut cake as she brought it to her mouth, letting the sweet, sticky crunchy sugar do its work comforting her momentarily as she chewed it and swallowed it down with some chocolate milk. The door to the kitchen opened, and she jerked her head up to see little Lisa Marie poke her head around.

“What are you doing?”

“Umm, late night cake?” Becky answered.

“Have you been crying?” Lisa asked as she stepped closer, getting herself a plate and a piece of cake.

“No, honey, no, it’s just been a long day.”

“Is it cuz of my daddy?”

Becky shook her head, too vigorously perhaps. “Npoooo no nononoo. No. It’s just been a long day.”

“You’re a bad liar, Becky Butt,” Lisa said, taking a big bite of cake, and then rubbing Becky’s shoulder. It broke her heart to see Lisa’s genuine look of pity staring up at her as she tried to comfort Becky. “Why is he like this? Mommy says he ruins every relationship and he’ll never truly be happy.”

Becky laughed at Lisa’s matter-of-fact statement. “Oh, my dear, I think your mama is very wise, but who knows what the future will bring. I do know your daddy loves you, that’s a relationship that makes him happy. Trust me, my parents never openly showed me love the way I see him show you. He’s a good man. There are just some things I might do differently if I were him.”

Lisa looked up at her. “Like what?”

“Well, for starters, I’d carry around less guns, I guess, that's dangerous. And maybe wear less jewelry, probably out there blinding people with all those dazzling gems and diamonds all over his person.”

Lisa laughed out loud as she finished her cake, and let Becky walk her up the stairs where she tucked Lisa back into bed and then returned to the kitchen.

Becky was down on her knees, looking through the drawers under the phone when she heard the door behind her slam shut. Glancing up, she saw Elvis’ broad figure swagger slowly toward her in the dimness of the kitchen lit only by one of the lights under a cabinet. He sighed and stopped, hands bracing the front of his hips, spread out fully extending his fingers as they tapped a little ditty over the sides of his belly. 

With his jacket pushed back at the hips, he looked even wider and more intimidating than usual. His lips were pursed in a frown at the sight of Becky in the jeans, converse and Destin tee shirt she had been wearing when she left Jackson the previous Sunday.

“Huh, hey.”

Becky turned back to look up at him. “Oh, hey!”

He adjusted his stance, pivoting his feet and twitching his left knee, his thumbs tapping over his belt.

“Watcha doin’?”

“You don’t know where the yellow pages are, do you? I’ve been looking for a phone book for the last fifteen minutes.”

Elvis sucked in a deep breath and adjusted his glasses. “Why, uh, why ya looking for the phone book?”

“Well, maybe you can help me.”

Becky returned her attention to the kitchen drawers in front of her, trying not to flinch as she heard the thud of Elvis boots walk closer and stop directly behind her. She chose not to twist back around and look at him, afraid she might cry or be dramatic, so she decided to speak directly into the drawers as she continued to look through them.

“You see, I’m trying to find a number for a local cab company, so I can get to the Greyhound station.”

“Mhmmm. I noticed your bag in the foyer.”

“Oh yeah, that,” Becky sighed, shutting one drawer and then opening another. “Well, you see, it just dills my pickle to be all prepared and ready to go when I call up a car to come get me. Although I had rather hoped I would have been gone before you got back, I didn’t want to bother you. But, since you’re here, maybe you can make yourself useful and help find the phone book?”

Elvis bent and leaned over the island that jutted out of the counter at the front of the kitchen.

“Honey, I have absolutely no intention a helpin’ you find a phone book.”

Becky stopped and fell back against the cupboard next to the set of drawers, her legs stretching out over the dark, burgundy carpet that covered the kitchen.She banged her hand back and closed her eyes.

“Why? Why can’t you just give me the phonebook?”

Elvis walked over and stood above Becky, his hand reaching down. “Cuz I don’t want you ta leave, honey. Not like this. C’mon, let’s talk. If you still wanna go home, why, I’ll drive you back to Jackson myself, like I promised.”

Becky glared up at his hand. “No.”

“What, you just gonna stay there on the ground?”

“Mhmmm.” She crossed her legs and her arms and tilted back into the cabinet. “Yup, yessiree. This is my home now, til I get a cab, I reckon.”

Elvis meandered over slowly and groaned as he lowered himself next to her on the floor. He moved his hand out to touch hers, only to be rebuked by their swift retreat back under her breasts in a huff of crossed arms and limbs. He rolled his neck to meet her gaze against the wooden cabinet.

“Honey, you are actin’ like a child. This is all one big misunderstanding. Now, c’mon.”

Elvis put his hand over her thigh, but Becky swatted it away, so he grabbed the foot she had criss crossed over her knee, and rolled into her shoulder as he scooted closer, squeezing her foot.

“Becky, look, you know I have other friends —”

“Girl friends, yes, I know about them, but apparently they don’t know about me. Do you have any idea how horrible that felt? Lying, looking at your beautiful beauty queen girlfriend, pretending to be Charlie’s cousin?” She pressed her face against the cupboard and let the tears come pouring out. “Ugh, I am so stupid, I know this isn’t me. I am not cut out to be the other woman.”

“Sssshhh.” Elvis put his arm around Becky’s shoulder, massaging her as he drew her body into his, bringing her head to nuzzle in his chest, where she gave up and grasped his shirt, letting the sobs come out as she cried into him. “Sshhhh. S’ok, s’ok.”

“No, s’not ok, ugh, I’m a horrible person, a traitor to my sex.” Her fist bumped tepidly into Elvis’ chest. She looked up at his chuckles. “What, why are you laughing at me?”

“Baby, you are too pretty to cry. Now, come on. Linda is not my wife, she knows it, I know it, things haven’t been going well and our relationship has been sorta peeterin’ out. But I have to do things my own way, ok? Her brother is on the police force, it made sense, right now, for me to take her as my date. But I swear, nothing happened. I’m here with you. At my house. Would I have a mistress at my house, where I lived, if I was keeping her a secret?”

Becky wiped her eyes. “You think she knows about me? She knew when she met me?”

Elvis sucked in his breath. “Honey, I don’t know, and frankly, right now I don’t care who knows. I-I, I didn’t wanna get into it tonight. But Linda knows well enough how it is with me. Look, I want to be with you, here, now. So let’s be together, and let’s go to bed.”

He said this with finality, and stood up, groaning slightly and steadying himself against the sink,  and Becky followed, exhaling loudly as she pulled herself up on his outstretched hand and walked with him out of the kitchen, still sniffling and wiping her eyes into his silk dress shirt.

“Ok, but only because the floor was starting to feel uncomfortable. And I couldn’t find the phone book.”

Elvis smiled and Becky watched his cheeks twitch above the pout of his mouth, and she couldn’t help it, she led herself into his embrace.

“There now, lil girl, why you go get yourself all worked up like that?”

Becky looked down, blushing trying to just calm herself and feel good about making peace, or whatever it was she was doing. Giving in. No, you are having fun, she told herself. It’s silly to be upset over Linda, and was the use of fighting? This is a short, fun, little fling. Somehow his logic made sense at the same time that it made no sense at all. Becky’s head ached trying to sort it out, she decided that she was tired and exhausted and still a little tipsy, and needed to stop fighting and let herself fall forward into Elvis’ pliant, warm belly. He took a silk handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit and wiped her eyes, then softly pressed his lips to Becky’s mouth.

 “Mmmm, baby, those are some salty lips.” 

Elvis lifted his hand, thumbing over her lower lip slowly, it made Becky gasp and she watched him respond with a smirk. He leaned in slowly, and Becky shivered when he breathed on her, watching with anticipation as he  licked his own lip and hesitated with a wider smirk before pressing his mouth into hers. More forcefully this time, his hands soothing up her sides. 

“S’alright now, s’alright, no more cryin, ok, lil girl? Too pretty ta cry like this. Goin’ on and making my favorite lips all salty. "

taglist:

@woundmetender @powerofelvis @tacozebra051 @butlervol6 @ab4eva @richardslady121 @dkfixates @azzawrites @searchingforgravity @sharebearkk @18lkpeters @elvispresleywife @moonchild-daniella @bisexualwvtson @eliseinmemphis @avengen @father-of-2cats @j-v-9-2 @lillypink @notstefaniepresley @stylespresleyhearted @godlypresley @literally-just-elvis-fics @crash-and-cure @coolgirl462 @elvisabutler @beeandheroddobsessions @precious-little-scoundrel @misspresle @yanderereader @alqvarde @yynneessmons @kendralavon7 @daffieapple @louisejoy86 @flwrs4aust @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @leopardandstuds @burningloverdoll @fangirlaround @butler-trouble @butlersluvbot

Let me know if you would like to be removed or added to the taglist. Thanks for reading!

#no one walks out on big daddy #elvis presley #big daddy elvis #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis x oc #elvis smut #1975 elvis #banditqueenwrites

[sluttywonwoo]

if Joshua senses you’re sad or stressed abt smth but you’re reluctant to tell him, he tries to get it out of you through a lengthy massage with soft scents and body oils, getting rid of your knots and stress with each pass of his hands on your back. eventually he turns you over and can’t stop himself from massaging your boobs, which would end in him making sweet love to you while whispering about how much he loves you

tears in my eyes u know me so well

he should have known better. this was supposed to be a way for joshua to get answers out of you but here he was with a hand on either of your boobs, feeling your nipples harden underneath his palms as he massaged them like he had the rest of your body.

joshua knew something was wrong the second you walked in the door but you didn't seem to want to talk about it so he didn't push. but as the night stretched on and you stayed distant he began to worry. he knew you were massively stressed over... well, everything you had going on but this seemed different somehow.

so he’d offered to give you a massage to help you relax, maybe get you to open up in the process but be had overestimated his ability to Not Get Horny whilst doing so and now your nipples are hard, he’s hard, and he can’t think about anything else.

“shua?” your voice floats out into the room and startles him out of his thoughts.

“hm?”

“are you hard?”

fuck. of course you could feel it, he was literally sitting on top of you. idiot.

“fuck, i-i’m sorry, baby. i didn’t mean to— it, uh, wasn’t on purpose or anything, i promise.”

“do you want to have sex?”

were you really going to make him lie through his teeth?

“no, of course not.”

he purses his lips after he says it, knowing you won’t buy it.

“shua,” you whine, “you’re a terrible liar.”

“maybe, but this isn’t about me. and i wasn’t lying, i really don’t want to have sex when you’re feeling like this. even if i’m having a physical reaction, i’m not about to be selfish.”

“it’s not selfish if i want it too.”

“i guess- wait, what?”

“i mean, you’ve been rubbing my boobs for like eight whole minutes now. i think that’s enough to turn anyone on.”

joshua yanks his hands away from your body as if he’s been burned, making you giggle.

“i didn’t even realize how long i was doing that, i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay,” you assure him softly. “i know you have tunnel vision when it comes to my tits.”

he chuckles sheepishly but then turns it back around on you. “maybe if they weren’t so perfect i’d be able to focus better.”

“oh, so it’s my fault?”

“i didn’t say that.”

“you implied it!”

“you can’t prove it,” he scoffs before getting serious again. “but for real, i wasn’t trying to get you in the mood or anything, i just wanted to help you relax—”

“joshua, i know,” you say earnestly and he feels bad because he’s supposed to be comforting you right now, not the other way around. “but since i am now, why waste it?”

“are you sure?” he asks, eyebrows scrunching together.

you nod. “i’m so wet i’m probably dripping through my shorts onto the sheets right now.”

“fuck,” joshua groans.

he wastes no time climbing off of you in order to tug your pants off, eyes glazing over when he confirms your suspicions. you’re soaked, just like you predicted, and joshua’s mouth starts watering immediately.

he slots himself between your knees and begins to lower his head when you stop him, squeezing your thighs together before he can taste you. joshua looks up at you questioningly, fully aware that he’s also pouting with his bottom lip jutted out and everything.

“just want your cock,” you admit shyly. “i know it’ll be a tight fit without you stretching me out first but i want you on top of me right now… is that ok?”

“of course, baby. whatever you want.”

he kisses your knee tenderly before rising on his own, gently spreading your legs again so that he can settle between them. he gets his pants off without making a total fool of himself and throws them onto the armchair beside your bed before turning his attention back to you.

joshua can’t resist playing with your clit as he slides in, just wanting to make sure you’re feeling something pleasurable in case there’s any discomfort from the stretch.

you moan and grab at the t-shirt he had completely forgotten he was wearing, using it to pull him down on top of you. with your chests pressed together he can feel you breathe out a sigh of relief as he bottoms out, making him twitch inside of you.

“god, you’re so big,” you mumble, “such a perfect dick. feels so fucking good, baby. want to have you all the time…”

“don’t,” joshua warns hoarsely, “i’ll cum.”

it’s your turn to pout. “so? it feels good when you do that too.”

“but i’m supposed to be making you feel good, remember?”

you roll your eyes at him. brat. but joshua knows you know you’ll get away with anything right now so he just smirks fondly and presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

“fine, fine,” you surrender, putting your hands up as if to prove it. “go ahead.”

“good girl,” joshua praises.

at that, he feels you clench around him and he can’t help but feel a little cocky over it.

joshua waits for you to adjust and give him the green light to start moving before doing anything else. once you do, he begins to rock his hips ever so slightly, adjusting his pace and position based on your reactions.

since he’s laying on top of you and you’ve got your legs locked around his waist, he can’t go very hard or fast, but you seem content to have him like this. his cock is right up against your g-spot so even the small movements feel good to you, which is all joshua wants anyway.

“love you, love you so much,” he whispers against your skin. “just want to make love to you all night.”

“please do,” you beg, mouth falling open as his fingers find your clit.

“i will, baby, don’t worry. i’ll take care of you.”

#been going thru it recently so she sent me asks :(( #this got… out of hand #answered #alicia 🌱 #seventeen smut #svt smut #joshua hong smut #joshua smut

[shiftingparadise]

heyyyy! it’s been a loooong while since my last request and i keep thinking about an enemies to lovers fic with gojo 🫠🫠 i mean like “i hate you. i hope you die a horrible death.” typa beat at the beginning.

i’m not sure if you’re taking requests atm, or if you haven’t watched jjk, so feel free to ignore this if that’s the case, i will completely understand^^ have a nice day<3

aaaa, I really loved writing this one. I'm sorry it took so long, but I was busy with school :(

I hope everyone's having a great day, enjoy reading 🤍✨

No warnings.

Word Count: 3100

“Yaga’s going to send me on a mission with him”, you let your head fall back. “Please Suguru, just kill me”. You earned a small chuckle in response, “I don’t understand why you two hate each other”. “And I don’t see how you could be friends with someone like him”. “He’s not that bad. I mean, he’s an arrogant piece of shit, but so am I”. 

For some reason, it felt as if the corridor to Yaga’s classroom kept expanding. Which was a good thing. You didn’t want to see that white-haired bastard.  

“You’re not arrogant, you’re confident. There’s a difference”. “He is the strongest sorcerer. His birth technically changed the balance of earth”. “I’m strong too, and smart”, jealousy flooded through your veins. “Y/N”, Geto stopped walking, “Don’t underestimate him. He may act foolish, but there’s more to him”. “Whatever, I’ll see you around”. 

You hated it when Suguru defended him. It was bad enough that they were best friends, he didn’t have to defend him every time you complained about Satoru. 

“Okay”, you closed your eyes once you saw the door to Yaga’s classroom, “Maybe he just wants to settle things with me and that idiot?”. 

“Nope, he’s going to send us on a mission together”. 

“S-shit”, your heart dropped to your stomach at the sudden presence behind you, “Asshole. I almost died because of you”. “Almost?”, he clicked his tongue, “What a shame”. “I’m not going on a mission with you”, you turned around, angry eyes staring into his blue ones. “As if I would ever go with someone like you”. “Excuse me?”, heat rose to your cheeks. “You’re selfish. You’d never sacrifice yourself for someone. Honestly, I don’t even know what you’re doing here. A sorcerer needs to protect others”. “What do you know about me?”, you shakily replied. “I know that you’re in love with Suguru”. “W-what?!”, your eyes wide open, “N-no, that’s not true!”. 

It wasn’t. He was wrong, but nonetheless, a cherry-red glow was left on your cheeks. 

“Stop it. Both of you”, Yaga opened the door, a stern expression on his face. “Sorry”, you mumbled. “Hm”, Gojo scratched the back of his head, “What do you want?”. 

Right. His disrespect for his peers never failed to amaze you. 

“Sit down”, Yaga nodded towards the wooden chairs. “Why?”. “Just sit down”, you angrily pushed your shoulder against your classmate, “The world doesn’t revolve around you”. “Actually-“. “Shut up”, you sighed as you sat down. 

“Gojo”, Yaga’s stern voice broke through the silence, “Sit down”. “I know you’re sending us on a mission together”, he lazily leaned against the wall. “That’s right”, Yaga ignored his disobedience as he turned to look at you. “Now, I know –“. “Not happening”. 

It was your turn to be disrespectful. Everyone knew how much the two of you despised each other. Was this some kind of joke? 

“Y/N-“. “Let Suguru hop along. He’ll be delighted”, you pushed your chair back, ready to leave. “If you two don’t go on this mission together, you’ll both be expelled”. 

“You think you can blackmail me?”, Gojo loudly laughed, “You guys need me”. “I’ll be expelled?”, you widened your eyes, “But I-“. “We know”, Yaga replied, “Just go on this mission together, and we won’t have to”. “Perfect”, Gojo smiled as he clapped his hands, “She gets expelled, I get to stay since you guys need me and-“. “Please”, you softly whispered, “I can’t get expelled”. “I don’t care”, he turned around, his hands childishly waving in the air, “My life will be a lot easier with you gone”. 

Yes, you hated him. Yes, you wanted to kill him for being so ignorant, but… 

“Please”, you lowered your head, “I’ve got nowhere else to go”. “I’m sure your rich family will happily welcome you back-“. “I don’t have a family”, your voice shaking, “If I get expelled, I’ll have nowhere to go”. “Huh?”, he tilted his head. “Satoru, just go on this mission with her”, Yaga pinched the space in between his brows, “It’s easier for everyone”. “Why do those old people from higher up want us to work together? I know this wasn’t your decision”. “I don’t know”, Yaga sighed, “Just do it”. 

---

“Let’s try to be nice to each other, shall we?”, he nonchalantly walked through the hallway, not caring to look at you. 

“Fuck off”.

 Why, out of everyone, did they send you on a mission with Satoru?

“You should thank me. All I know, is you’d be sleeping on the streets if I didn’t agree to go on this mission”. 

“You’re an asshole”, you stopped walking, “I hate you, and not because you’re arrogant, not because you’re always bragging about how strong you are, but because you’re heartless. You don’t care about anyone except yourself. You only ‘save’ people because it makes you feel good. You’re a self-centered idiot”. 

“And what do you know about me?”, he looked over his shoulders. 

“Easy”, Suguru’s voice tore down the dense atmosphere, “It’ll be nice”. 

God, why did he always have to smile? 

 “Nice?”, you turned around, eyes wide open, “Nothing’s nice with that idiot”. “I disagree”, he smiled as he slowly walked towards you two. “Dinner?”, Gojo ignored your insult. “Starving”, Geto smiled as he walked past you, softly patting your head. “He’s not that bad. You’ll see”, a soft whisper. “Hm”, you pouted, “See you”. “See ya”, Geto happily waved, “Oh, when do you two have to leave?”. 

“Tomorrow morning”, you placed your hands in your pockets, “Want to play UNO after dinner?”. “Don’t be a crybaby when you lose”. “I won’t lose”, you smirked as you turned around, “Later Geto”. 

“Are you in love with her?”, Gojo smirked. “No”, Geto coldly replied. “How can you be friends with her? She’s annoying”. “Why? Because she’s almost as strong as you?”, a smirk on Geto’s face. “She isn’t”, Gojo grabbed something from his pocket, “We’re the strongest”, he smiled as he put his shades on.                               

---

“Car’s not big enough for you?”, your angry eyes staring at him. “What?”, he coldly replied. “Your legs, could you spread them even further?”. “I always sit like this”. “I don’t care”, you angrily pushed against his knee, “I need some room too”. “Brat”. “Excuse me?”, your eyes studying his face. “You heard me”. 

One more word and his cheek would have a stinging, red glow. 

“You’re a brat”, you childishly replied. “We don’t have to talk”, he let his head fall back, “We’ll be there soon”. “Give me that”, you snapped the tablet from his hand, “Want to know what we’re dealing with”. “All yours”, a smirk on his face. 

Special grade curse? This must be a joke, right? You weren’t that strong and- 

“Why didn’t they send Suguru on this mission? I’m not that strong”, your heart dropped to your stomach. Your cursed energy wasn’t special, not like Suguru’s or Satoru’s. 

“Don’t know, but I’m not responsible for your safety”, he stared out of the window, “I won’t sacrifice the mission for your safety”.  

“Just worry about yourself, I’ll manage”, you quietly responded, a worrying frown on your face. 

--- 

“Hey”, his cold voice greeted your ears. 

You dreaded this moment. 

“Hey”, you walked past him. 

“Y/N?”. “What?”, you stopped walking, eyes glued to the painting at the end of the hallway. 

“I’m sorry”. 

Sorry wasn’t enough. It could never be enough. 

“I was just a kid-“. 

“You’re still a kid”, you scoffed back, “You only think about yourself”.

You waited for a response, for another sorry, but only silence filled the air. 

“Don’t worry. I’m only here to see Sukuna’s vessel”. “When are you going to accept my apology?”. 

“Accept? They expelled me because of you”. “But you got transferred”. “And I never saw Suguru again. I never got the chance to talk him out of it”. 

Why were you even explaining things? 

“You killed him. You killed your best friend”, a lump in your throat. “He killed an entire village, Y/N. He wasn’t the Suguru you used to know”. “I don’t care. You don’t give up on the people you love”. 

“He gave up on us”. 

He didn’t. Even if his motives were wrong, even if he did evil things… He wanted to make the world a ‘better’ place for the people he loved. 

“Goodnight, Satoru”, you wiped a tear from your cheek, “Always nice to see you again”. 

--- 

“What do you think?”, Yaga looked at you, his dark shades masking his eyes. “You made the right decision. He’s strong, even without Sukuna”, your eyes twinkling, “Can I train with him tonight? Just for research?”. “As long as he’s okay with it”, he lifted his shoulders. “That kid”, you nodded towards the dark-haired boy, “He’s strong too, isn’t he?”. “He has the most potential”, Yaga crossed his arms, “You don’t know who he is, do you?”. “I know. Thanks to his dad-“. “Yeah”, Yaga interrupted, “That’s him”. 

--- 

“So, you let him take over whenever?”. “N-no”, the pink-haired boy backed away, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “Does he talk to you?”, you tightened your grip around his jaw, your eyes studying every part of his face. “Y-yeah, he’s annoying”. “Can I talk to him?”, you eagerly asked.  “It’s too dangerous”, a stern expression on his face, “I don’t want to risk the safety of others”. 

“Don’t worry”.

Why? 

“Get out”, you slowly backed away, resisting the urge to turn around. “Come now, that’s my student”. 

He was smirking. You could feel it.

“Yuji”, his footsteps drew closer, “Let him out. I’m the strongest, you know that”. “B-but Gojo sensei-“. “Let him out”, he lifted his blindfold with his thumb. 

You didn’t want to see him, to give him some form of satisfaction, but… You were so curious, so fascinated… 

 “And I’m here too”, you softly agreed, “I’m strong too”. “She is”, Gojo happily smiled, “And smart. She’s the most highly paid researched in the sorcerer community. Her books are being used in every sorcerer school”. 

“Tsk”, you clenched your jaw. “She doesn’t seem to like you”, Yuji tilted his head. “That’s because we’ve got some history-“. “N-no! Not like that!”, you blurted out when you saw the look in the student’s eyes. 

“Let him out, Yuji”, Gojo smirked. 

“Okay”, the boy shrugged his shoulders before closing his eyes. 

Your heart was racing, your mouth dry… You were nervous. 

“That brat gave me 30 seconds”. 

“H-huh?”, you jolted, “H-his voice… The marks-“. 

“Sukuna?”, you slowly walked closer. “Long time I’ve seen someone this pretty. She yours?”, the curse widely grinned at Gojo. “Your time’s almost up”, Gojo smiled back, “It’s been a pleasure”. 

“W-wait!”, you tried to buy more time, but you could already see the marks disappear. 

“What did he say?”, Yuji shook his head, as if he tried to shake the curse away. “I’m never leaving this place as long as you’re here!”, you swung your arms around the boy’s neck, “I’m going to write so many books about you!!!”. 

“G-gojo sensei?”, the boy tried to ask his teacher for help, his cheeks glowing red. “Hey, she never hugged me”, Gojo loudly laughed, “Just enjoy it”. 

--- 

“So peaceful”, you sighed as you looked at the stars above you. 

You always loved the smell of a hot summer night. A clear sky above you, thousands of stars, the soft touch of grass underneath you… 

You were sitting in the middle of a park just outside Jujutsu high. It must’ve been 3 AM, but you didn’t care. This was worth it. 

What was this sudden feeling? This sudden eeriness?

“Right, I should’ve known better”, you slowly stood up. “I can never get a moment of peace”, you angrily mumbled. “Don’t hide. I know you’re here”, you wiped some dirt from your uniform. 

“Hide?”, a chilling voice greeted you. 

This wasn’t a normal curse. This was trouble. 

“Who are you?”, you widened your stance, one hand in your pocket. “Mahito, nice to meet you”, a tall figure happily walked towards you. 

“What do you want?”. “You. Dead”, a big smile on its face. “Try me”, you grabbed a bag of blood from your pocket. “Oh, blood manipulation. Interesting”, the curse scratched underneath his chin, “But then again, I already knew that, didn’t I?”. 

It knew? 

“Just like I know about your little accident years ago. Don’t you want to get revenge? Don’t you want to make him pay?”. 

“It was an accident”, your heart racing, “He didn’t mean for it to happen”. “Then why are you still mad at him?”, a fake confused expression on Mahito’s face. “You know it’s his fault. You know it’s his fault your body is covered in scars”. “He didn’t mean to”. 

It scared you how much doubt there was in your voice. 

“He did”. 

T-that voice-

“S-suguru?”, you turned around, your legs shaking. 

“Missed me?”, a smile on his face. 

He was dead-

“Suguru!”, you immediately ran towards him, your arms eagerly wrapped around his body. You didn’t care what he’d done. He was your friend. You two were inseparable- 

“S-suguru?”, tears in your eyes as you fell to the ground, a sharp pain in your side. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to die. We just need Gojo”, a disgusted look on Geto’s face as he looked down at you. 

“W-what-“, “Don’t worry”, Mahito’s happy voice interrupted, “I can heal you, and your scars”. “D-don’t-“

Why couldn’t you use your cursed energy? 

“You’ve been poisoned”, Suguru coldly added, “You can’t use any cursed energy”. “Why did you do this?”, your sight blurry. “Don’t worry. The Suguru you know is gone”, a smirk on his face. 

Right. The Suguru you knew would never do this. He’d never- 

“You aren’t-“, “What a smart girl”, he kneeled down. “Mahito?”, Geto brushed some strands of hair from your face, “She’s useless. Do with her as you wish”. 

“Get your hands off her”. 

For once, you were happy to hear Gojo’s voice. 

“Finally. Let’s see how strong you really are”, Mahito laughed. 

“S-satoru-“, darkness surrounded you, “Leave”. “Leave?”, a gentle smile on his face as he walked towards the curse, “I owe you one, remember?”. 

--- 

“Suguru?”, you slowly opened your eyes. “Ouch”, a chuckle, “I saved your life, you know?”. 

“Satoru”, you immediately sat up straight, “Where am I?”. “In your room. Shoko took care of you”.  “S-shit”, you grunted as you felt a sharp pain in your side. “Careful”, his hand immediately behind your head, “Shoto did what she could, but you need plenty of rest”. 

Normally you’d rather die than let that idiot touch you, but now it felt kind of reassuring. 

“Thank you”, you whispered, “If you weren’t there, I’d be dead”. “As I said, I owed you one”. 

You knew he expected you to ask what had happened after you passed out, but you didn’t want to know. Not yet anyway. 

“Got you these”, he took something from your nightstand, “They’re my favorite”.

Mochi?

“Thanks”, an unintentional smile on your face. “They’re not regular mochi, you know? I got these from-“, “I recognize them, Satoru”, you gently smiled, “Thank you”. 

“Y/N, listen”. 

What a strange sight. He actually seemed nervous. 

“I never meant to… I didn’t know”, he clenched his jaw. “I hate myself for what happened back then. For the pain I caused you”. “I know”, you softly whispered. “If I knew there was another curse, I wouldn’t have-“. 

“Where were you?”, a lump in your throat. “I don’t blame you, but I’ve been wondering why you suddenly disappeared after I exorcised the first curse”. 

“Flowers”, he mumbled as he looked at the ground. “What?”, you frowned. “I was getting you flowers”, his hand massing the back of his neck. 

“F-flowers?”, you widened your eyes, cheeks blushing. “I guess I was in love with you back then”, he cleared his throat, “That’s why I was such a jerk… I thought you loved Suguru and –“. 

Why was he cute right now? Gojo wasn’t the type of man to seem insecure and shy, but it kind of suited him. It was refreshing to see a blush on his cheeks. 

“When you exorcised that first curse, you seemed so proud”, a nostalgic smile on his face. “I never doubted you for a second, but you did. You always underestimated yourself, so… I wanted to celebrate. I had this stupid idea of buying you flowers and asking you out on a date”. 

“Satoru-“. 

You finally understood. You understood why you hated him all this time. Why you never got close to him. Why he was the one person who could get under your skin. 

“I know it’s silly”, he chuckled, “Please don’t tell the students I have a crush on you”. 

“Have?”, you repeated the words in your head.

“Ask me”, you quietly responded, “Ask me if I want to go on a date”. 

“H-huh?”, his blue eyes towering over his glasses as he looked over them. 

“Ask me”. 

You didn’t love Suguru, you never did. You remembered why you even tried to get close to Suguru in the first place. You wanted to spend time with Gojo. 

“Do you want to have dinner with me?”, his voice sounded raspy. 

“No”, you nervously smirked. 

“Do you want to go to the arcade with me?”, he smiled when he realized what you were after. 

“Nope”, you shook your head. 

“Fine”, he playfully sighed, “Do you want to order pizza and watch a movie?”. 

“Bingo”, you held out your thumb. 

Why was the room so cold all of a sudden? 

“Can I see?”, a dark expression on his face. “What?”, you frowned. “What I’ve done to you”. 

No. 

“You haven’t done anything to me”.  “I want to see, Y/N”. 

Don’t run. Don’t run. Don’t run. 

“Okay”, you slowly unbuttoned your shirt. 

He was disgusted. He had to be. The dark scars on your stomach and chest, all the way to your arms… 

“I’m so sorry”, he lowered his head, a crack in his voice, “I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you”. “Do you still think I’m pretty?”, your eyes hanging low. “No”, his digits slowly tracing over your scars. 

“Right”, you closed your eyes, “That’s fine”. 

“I don’t think you're pretty, " the sweetest smile on his face, “I don’t think there are enough words to describe how beautiful you are. You’re divine. A goddess. I’ve always thought so”.

Shit. You were blushing. 

“T-thanks”, you awkwardly responded, his nose brushing against yours. “Ask me”, he smirked. “W-what?”, you loudly swallowed as you felt his lips hovering over yours. “Ask me to kiss you”. 

“Kiss me, please”. 

#fanfiction #fanfic #gojo imagine #gojo jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo saturo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo jjk #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujustu kaisen #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk fanart #jjk x y/n

[queer-reader-07]

ok buckle up cuz we’re talking about ✨religious trauma✨ today (i’m allowed to sparkle emoji it this is entirely a self insert meta)

ok so aziraphale in the context of religious trauma. specifically, why i think his character is one of the most accurate and real portrayals of religious trauma in media. and i want to explore that because i’ve seen it talked about a little bit but my raised catholic turned queer trans self has some more thoughts.

a lot more under the cut

i’m sure we’ve all seen the “why would aziraphale leave crowley?” “why would he go to heaven?” “doesn’t he know heaven is bad?” posts. or some flavor of the same idea.

and they seem to be coming from the same crowd who also think that aziraphale going to heaven was “out of character”. which isn’t true if i’m being perfectly honest.

when we look at aziraphale through the lens of trauma, his actions begin to make a lot more sense. he is in an abusive and toxic relationship with heaven. and we all know (or at least we all should know) that leaving toxic/abusive environments isn’t an easy feat. and more often than not, abuse victims are very likely to end up in an abusive situation again.

aziraphale only knows heaven. while he and crowley have both seen that heaven doesn’t always do the best things (e.g. killing everyone in the flood, wanting to kill jobs kids, armageddon 1 AND 2), crowley has seen first hand that heaven is bad. crowley has fallen (or sauntered vaguely downwards), he’s been told that he isn’t worthy of heaven. that he isn’t enough. and he knows that what heaven does is so often wrong. he see that, because heaven already cast him out. why would he bother defending them?

but aziraphale only has heaven and has only ever had heaven. yeah he doesn’t agree with heaven or God on all fronts but heaven is still the right side,,, right? heaven is still his side.

aziraphale is comfortable with heaven. he’s used to it. and admitting to himself that heaven is toxic or problematic or bad would dismantle everything he’s ever told himself. it would mean admitting that he is a part of that toxic/etc institution. and possibly complacent in it.

(side bar: i would argue he isn’t complacent. we’ve seen him defy the will of God or heaven multiple times. see: giving up the flaming sword & lying about it, saving job’s kids and lying about it, stopping armageddon)

speaking from a personal perspective here: religious trauma is a beast to deal with. and a lot of people with religious trauma (myself included) go back to The Church over and over again despite being burned by it so many times.

for me it was knowing that The Church didn’t care about my reproductive rights. and knowing that they didn’t condone my queerness. and knowing that they think i’m somehow sinful for the music i listen to or the clothes i wear. and knowing that they believe my friends who are wonderful people and i love deeply are doomed to eternal damnation because they aren’t catholic.

aziraphale is the same way. for him it was being shown over and over again that heaven doesn’t care about him. doesn’t care about humanity. doesn’t care about what he thinks. doesn’t care (and in fact actively hates) the one being he loves more than anything. doesn’t care about anything but “triumphing over hell” (whatever that means).

but he kept going back. and i kept going back. i kept going to sunday mass for years after i figured out i was queer. i kept going long after i settled on my leftist politics that are far too radical for the catholic church. and aziraphale kept going back. despite having worked side by side with a demon for millennia. despite heaven wanting to kill his best friend/lover/most important person. despite wanting to destroy humanity (not just in armageddon, the flood did happen).

it takes a lot of work to even begin stepping away from toxic and abusive institutions. aziraphale gets better. season 1 is very “i am an angel you are a demon we cannot work together (but also we definitely are)” but by season 2 we have “our car” “my former people” “i thought we carved [this fragile peaceful existence] out for ourselves”. he’s beginning to realize that heaven does not have his back. he is on a side with crowley. they are in it together.

and yet. he still goes back to heaven. after all this time. all the failed attempts to get heaven to hear him out. why is he going back now? after a love confession from the demon he loves more than literally anything ever.

because he wants to enact change. he wants to finally see heaven rebuilt so that humanity is safe. so that the things he loves about the world are left unchanged. and most importantly, so crowley is safe. and he can only do that if he fixes heaven, right?

i know i’m not the only one who’s thought to myself “i’d be more religious if only i could fix The Church” or something adjacent. this idea that it’s an institution that can be fixed. when in fact, organized religion can’t be fixed. the structure it’s built upon is inherently flawed. personal faith is beautiful and i value my own, but organized religion will always bear systemic issues and oppressions.

aziraphale wants to be the change. he wants to fix it. that’s why he went back. he didn’t reject crowley. he didn’t leave crowley because he doesn’t love him back. he went back because he loves crowley. he went back because if he fixes it, crowley will finally be safe.

and i for one, want to see him succeed. i want him to be able to actually fix heaven. i want him fighting tooth and nail to make the world a safe place for the love of his life.

i want him to succeed in the change the rest of us never managed. i want him fulfilling what was mine and so many others dreams.

#thanks for reading all of this if you did #good omens is rly special to me as an ex-catholic queer person and this is one of the reasons why #despite how much i AM crowley #the religious trauma aspect of aziraphale hits really close to home #good omens meta #good omens thoughts #good omens #aziraphale #supreme archangel aziraphale

[a-gal-with-taste]

Stolen In a Night (Oneshot)

Summary: "It's okay to laugh - it's a little funny." Making a sound that's not quite a scoff, and not quite a laugh, the Kingpin settles back further into his couch seat, and tilts his head just enough that the lights behind the window makes his eyes gleam as he stares up at you. "It's really not. At least, I don't find anything funny about soulmates."

Having long since convinced yourself that the very last thing the Eye of Zaun would have ever wanted was a nobody, a dime-a-dozen, lowlife thief for a soulmate... he surprises you, and you steal something far more precious from him.

Warnings: SFW. Soulmate AU (names/temprature), first-meets, insecurities, thief!Reader, beginning of romance, pining, mutual-possessiveness, some fluff/angst, hurt/comfort, humor, just a long convo between two people also I wrote this back in April/May and forgot it existed until 2 AM this morning, lmao

(Inspired by @chickenparm Jaded)

“... I’m guessing the door’s locked?”

There’s a light hum that immediately puts you on edge, more so than you already are. The two points of burning-red - one from the tip of the cigar in his fingers, the other the infamous Eye itself - shift from where they had both been fixated directly at your attention. You take the moment of reprieve to sag back against the window, fingers once more flexing on the latch you already know is shut, locked, and he takes a slow inhale that leaves the red-point of his cigar flaring.

Once the mouthful of smoke plumes from his mouth, does he speak. It’s not an answer to the question you asked, but a confirmation of another sort, that makes a deep pit of dread fill in the place of panic inside your heart, “You’re my soulmate.”

It’s not a question, and he doesn’t look impressed. By the statement he correctly makes, or the audible way you attempt to jiggle the window latch again - you’re unsure which it could be, or if it’s perhaps both.

You wouldn’t be surprised. You doubt the reigning kingpin of Zaun is pleased to find out his other-half happens to be a thief attempting to rob his establishment, more specifically, his office .

Speaking of which.

“You knew I was coming.” Again, it’s not a question.

“Your associates are not very  subtle  with their attempts to blend in. They left more than enough smears behind in their attempts at espionage, or  whatever they were attempting, to follow a trail.” He rolls a wrist freely in time with his unimpressed eye roll, and you bite the inside of your cheek. The idea of going around, sussing out the job location via smooth talk and conversation-prying, was a bad idea from the start that you vehemently disagreed with.

Naturally, your great reluctance earned-you the 'honor' of being the one to sneak upstairs to the main prize of the job. And the one place you didn't want to be, considering the name currently burning like magma beneath your wrist, matched the name of the owner of this office.

It’s a fire that’s spreading throughout your body, setting every nerve alight and warming your very bones with a heat that is as innate as it is unnatural, at least from your experience.

Soulmates aren't necessarily uncommon, but rare-enough for you to scoff at the idea of such a bond; almost magnetizing, opposing yet equal beings coming together in a perfect balance. The name on your arm, one you’ve kept hidden for years, burns with the pure need for the man that sits at the couch... and in contrast, you can see the slightest tremor at the end of the cigar-point.

Nearly a shiver - and despite scoffing at such dramatics that a rather theatrical God has decided to bestow upon soul-pairs - you take this as proof that as much as you burn with the need for him, there’s a definitive lack of warmth that can only be revived from your presence, specifically, your touch.

Made more-extreme by the shortened proximity between you, you had hoped the rising-temperature within your body had simply been a byproduct of nerves and the shot-of-courage you had taken before hauling yourself up to the second-story window. 

Or at the very least, if he was here, the telling sign of your body flaring up with heat was only because he was downstairs, and not literally in the room you were slipping into, pressing the window mutely-shut behind you as you scanned the darkened room for what valuable to grab first...

Of course, your hopes evaporated when the name on your became a living-source of fire, and a frantic push on an unmoving window, killed any remaining wish to keep you and your soulmate separated.

Destiny, it seemed, was a cold-hearted bitch. Potentially as cold as Silco was feeling, if the tremors going through his body seemed to be any indication. 

Both of you knew it would continue to grow stronger while being so-near, ceasing only upon first-physical contact with your other - but neither of you closed the gap. You, for far more obvious reasons, but Silco’s were largely left up to interpretation, until he continued with a cool-tone, “The trail they left behind was muddled. They do not seem as if they are the wisest at planning.”

“They get the job done.” Your attempt at a defense was weak, and Silco was already waving a hand dismissively before you even finished the quiet, unconfident sentence.

“Regardless of their skills, or lack thereof, they gave enough of a trail that led me to the mention, the briefest passing of  your  name.” A beat, then, balancing the tip of his cigar through a small chip between his two front teeth, the Eye of Zaun reaches to hook a finger on a gold-embroidered cuff.

For a moment, you wonder if maybe it could all be a mistake. Maybe another’s name, similar but not your own, lies on his skin. You might even hope for it...

But then Silco pulls his sleeve up, just a little past a muscle-lined forearm, and presents his wrist towards you. It’s adorned, in a perfect imitation of your own scrawl, with your name and you can only sigh in quiet, heavy acceptance, before Silco plucks the cigar from his mouth with a now-free hand. “That’s you, I believe?”

You stare at it, and blink once in hopes that it’ll change before your eyes. It doesn’t. “Yes.”

“Wonderful. Now would you care to explain to me, why it never occurred to you to come to me when my name appeared on your own wrist.”

Perhaps there’s some sort of byproduct of divine-driven companionship which makes one incapable of lying, because the only thing you say in his response to his calm, firm demand for answers is, “Well... you’re my soulmate.”

Even the smoke itself seems to still be at your words.

More specifically, the fact that you said them in a negative connotation - a bit flat, and almost an accusation.

Silco exhales a moment too-long later, and thin, gray tendrils pool from his nostrils before long fingers reach up, capturing the length of the half-finished smoke. They're trembling, while his voice remains steady, “And what, exactly does that mean?”

...Was he serious?

“It... You're  Silco . Eye of Zaun, Ruler of the Undercity, Chem-King of Shimmer-"

"I am  well-aware of who I am. Just as I've learned who you are." For a moment, it's as if the roles are reversed. Despite a shiver-trembling body, Silco leans back and fixes you with a heated glare of annoyance that would put you on the verge of sweating, if the name on your wrist wasn't halfway there... Then Silco says your name, slowly, thoughtfully, and in a way that suggests he's been memorizing it for a long, long time now. 

"Common-thief, born of the Sumps. Biggest hit was a thrift-shop bordering the Promenade, and the entirety of a thriving food stall in your teenage years - the largest-factor for such a feat would be  starvation, if I were to hazard a guess..." 

"Well, that's not a exactly rare thing down in the Slums, y'know-"

"I'm also learning quickly you have a knack for  sarcasm," He adds flatly. "You, wisely, avoid altercations, be it petty-disputes or gang-related. Stick to the shadows, rarely boast about your efforts, and never attempt to take more than what could last you a week." Pausing, Silco raises the heel to grind the half-finished cigar into the heel of his boot, perhaps with a bit more viciousness than necessary... "You could disappear, and the loss would amount to nothing."

Harsh, but he was right. And it wasn't like you didn't know this - few born in the Sumps got out of them, the highest aspiration one could hope-for from such miserable-beginnings would be some second-hand worker at some miscellaneous stall along the Lanes, or muscle for unsavory back-alley operations. Not exactly jobs suited for you, and you weren’t born with a sense of ambition in the first place.

Living day-by-day wasn’t a rarity - in fact, it was a commonly accepted way of life in the Underground, so you couldn’t understand the fuming glare in the mismatched eyes of your apparent soulmate... except, for the one reason you had convinced yourself of, from the moment your wrist had burned in the five-letters of his name, on why Silco would be so furious on having you.

“Trust me, I’m not banking on any rags-to-riches from you,” You said, scoffing, but that glint in his eyes only grows, and hardens. “ I get it, okay? Lowest of the low, with the man-on-top, a Baron stuck with a sump scraper for a soulmate... I’m not one for public image, but even I know it wouldn’t make a pretty picture.”

“Do you really think I would deny you, based on potential rumors that would circulate?” 

You laugh. Half out of hysteria at a job gone horribly-wrong, and at the fact that this man has the gall to look  offended  at the thought, when he had to have been thinking the exact same thing. It’s ridiculous to think Silco didn’t think this through, because even on the streets, everyone  knew  the Eye of Zaun had the mind of a man possessed, and gifted with the ability of controlling. Controlling all aspects of Zaun, the untamable of all cities in Runeterra, and having complete control over his own life as well.

You had lived the first few weeks post-soulmarking in grim anticipation. Waiting for the inevitable, be it in the form of a quiet collection in the night, or an even quieter disposal of an unwanted weakness to the Eye of Zaun, that no one, particularly him, would miss. 

Just as he said. You could disappear, and the loss would amount to  nothing , and you had known for a long time that in Silco’s eyes, you had to have amounted to just as much.

It didn’t matter if the nightly, daily loneliness got so bad that it physically  ached  . It didn’t matter if there was a desperate flame inside of you, burning with the need, the  requirement  of a soul-linked touch to cool that fire inside.

It didn’t matter if, from even as a small child with nothing to their name, scared, angry and dreadfully  alone , to the moment right now, that you wanted your soulmate more than anything in the world.

It didn’t matter if you needed him.

What mattered, is that you knew he didn’t need you. Not as a liability, a weakness, after today  certainly  not an attempted-thief, and most definitely not as a soulmate. It was easier to laugh at the absurdity of it all, than to give into that crushing burning within your chest.

"It's okay to laugh - it's a little funny." Making a sound that's not quite a scoff, and not quite a laugh, Silco settles back further into his couch seat, and tilts his head just enough that the lights behind the window makes his eyes gleam as he stares up at you. "It's really not. At least, I don't find anything funny about soulmates."

“Well... i’m sure you expected something a little less ridiculous,” You said after a swallow, sobering back up quickly when you recalled who this was, again. “But, regardless. I know better than to expect anything, and I'm certainly not looking for anything, not from you.” Plans for Bilgewater had always been your backpocket escape-route if you became any-less of an unknown. All you needed was one more score - a  solo  one, not one that put you less than five feet away from the very Eye you were trying to avoid. “I can manage. I can survive without you. It doesn’t matter to you, but if there’s any consolation, you can live with knowing I'll be fine.”

Your soulmate is silent for a very, very long moment. “...Is that what you want?” There’s a tense muscle in his jawline, the angle twitching lightly as he struggles not to grind his teeth. “You want to be without a soulmate in your life, is that what you’re telling me?”

You open your mouth to confirm, to make it clear and  abundantly  so... and find words left stuck on your tongue. The yes Silco is looking for goes unsaid, and the pause lasts too long for any form of agreement, verbal or otherwise to hold any actual weight now.

Silco’s eye narrows, and despite the visible chill in his body, his eye  blazes .

“Fuck, I mean, yes -”

“You’re a dreadful liar.”

“No, I... I just-”

Silco braces an arm on the couch-arm, and makes to stand up. You press closer to the window, in which the cool green glass does amazing for your burning body, but very little for your racing heart. If he had any scathing remarks in regards to your immediate fight, mostly flight response, Silco says nothing of it. 

In fact, he says nothing at all. All the Eye of Zaun does, is shift his body over to the side of the couch, propping an elbow onto the rest, and hand gesturing vaguely to the open space beside him.

An invitation that you do not take. Even though there’s more than enough space to hold you both, with a good foot in-between... and even if it looks very, very comfortable. Surely more expensive than any surface you’ve slept on, let alone sat at...

“Don’t hurt yourself by overthinking. You can walk out to join your little team, or you can sit. It’s hardly a decision worth earning a headache over.”

A moment passes, and you swear the short breath he lets out comes in a cold little cloud, when you push off of the window and step over. 

Silco makes no reach for you, even as you all but collapse in barely-restrained pants at the pure  magma  that flows through your veins, and the shivers tremor through his entire muscle system as the space between you goes from feet, to mere inches. But still, he doesn’t reach out to you, and you make no moves to him. Curling up opposite of him, you bring your knees to your chest and hug them tight, never once looking away from him.

Like all things, he mirrors you just the same. Eyes scanning over you - he’s already memorized you, but from what you can tell, Silco seems to look at you now without the intent of cataloging, committing every detail, contour and angle to memory. He looks at you like... he likes to, and wants to look at his soulmate.

There’s a minute shift on his lips, as if he realizes that your reasons for staring are no different than his own. But otherwise, Silco’s expression and voice remain cool, “I fear as though several... misconceptions have been allowed to fester. Many branching from certain assumptions I sense you’ve concocted-”

“With good reason, believe it or not. I know who you are,”

“And so you know everything about me, then?”

“Like you know all about me?” 

The challenge goes unanswered except from a prolonged eye roll, perhaps because Silco knew if he indulged in it, the two of you would be circling for hours. Whatever he wanted, however he wanted it to end, it was clear you had few options in it, just as it was clear Silco wanted it over and done with before he froze to death from the inside-out, “I don’t. Admittedly, and unfortunately, I don't, and it seems like you don’t want me to...”

“Because... you’re you .” He raises a brow, again seeking clarification, and you tighten your arms around yourself, to the point that nails bite through your jeans. “I... you don’t  want  me, you could have anyone. Anything, really, and you got stuck with someone who has had to fight and claw for every scrap in their life,” You turn to glare over the top of your knees as you hear a faint scoff escape him, reaching up to wipe across your sweating brow with a scowl. “Let’s not kid ourselves here and say you actually want me. You literally have a million other options, and I'm... just a Sumper. A nobody. I’m a thief, and while you have the world, I can only take what’s in my reach.”

“...You’re correct,” He says after a slow moment, and you close your eyes, trying to convince yourself that the twisting inside your chest is a form of  relief  . “I have a million options. And I only have one soulmate, one  other-half, as it were... Perhaps we’re more alike than you think. I have many options, yet I only want to take what’s in my reach.”

The repeat of your own words - and the implication, too hopeful for you to ignore - causes you to turn toward him, just in time to see his hand halt mid-air. It’s hovering, the closest point of contact you have ever had with your soulmate... And indeed, you can’t tell if the sight causes your throat to parch, or if it’s the divine ‘gift’ of fire burning though your very soul. 

He makes no other reach for you - again, it’s an invitation you can take or leave. And there’s no imploring in his gaze, no other emotion that’s an attempt to sway you.

Just a hand, held out to you so openly, and so readily... that for a moment, you wonder if he’s been waiting just as long as you. Just as lonely as you. It was already clear that he was a man half-frozen without you, but did he burn just as much for his other half?

When you shift, just enough, and see a flash of pure  need  cross his gaze when you move just one increment closer, you start to think the answer is  yes, he has.

The thought makes you move even closer, and also speak even more freely, “I don’t... I’m not looking for anything you can’t give-”

“You’ll find I'm only looking for one thing. You can give it freely, or you can leave,” His fingers twitch - the one tell that Silco will allow, the one physical act that shows it’s taking every ounce of his self-control to allow this to be your decision. Whatever you decide, he was willing to honor it, despite his own, long-held desires. “I’m admittedly a selfish man, and I think you’ve well proven you’re much the same. But know that there’s no others, none I have had, and none that I have ever wanted, other than you.”

“Then... why didn’t you? If you wanted me so much, why didn’t you come for me?”

“I’m as much Zaunite as you,” He says, raising a brow at your surprised blink. “I know just as well how a thief takes to the shadows, and how long one can survive there. The moment I had your name, I knew how far-simpler, sooner it would be to let you find your own way.”

“Like you hoped?”

“Like I wished. But... Ultimately, the choice is yours.”

Your hesitance was clear, enough to stop his hand in place. It truly felt like you were burning alive, the very flames flickering within your very bones, and you swear that his jaw tightened, not in annoyance of your continued search of assurance, but to keep his teeth from chattering at the glacial-temperature he no doubt felt in his veins. 

Still, despite fire and ice threatening to engulf you and him respectfully, you glance at Silco's hand and manage to croak out, "And... you mean it? You won't....” You can’t bring yourself to ask, that tiny, lingering speck of doubt inside you is still loud enough that you fear it could consume you, if Silco so much as hesitates at your questions:

You want me?

You’ll keep me?

You won’t leave me?

The hand doesn't waver from where it's aloft in the space near your face. And his expression, patient and closed, save for that yearning, gleaming in his eye, remains the same as well... the only thing new is the small smile that quirks onto Silco's lips. Truly a small, quiet thing, but honest; just like his words are, that fill you with a warmth that doesn't burn like that of your mark, but radiates.

"Darling, I am never letting you go."

And when he closes the distance, two absolutely heavenly cold-palms cupping up your face and bringing relief upon relief to your entire being and soul, you can’t help the laugh that escapes you as, for the first time since entering, your body isn’t reaching damn-near melting points, being so close to what you burn with desire for...

You broke in here with the intent of spiriting away with riches. Golds or documents, coin or other priceless items to make off with a weeks-pay.

You don’t know, quite yet, what you got instead by breaking.

All you know, is that you aren’t spiriting away with riches, but as the gap closes, and the fire inside you meets with his ice, you realize that you’ve stolen something far-precious from Silco, and you know you share his sentiment, now that he has you, and you, him:

You’re never letting him go.

#silco #arcane #arcane silco #silco x reader #gender neutral reader #soulmates #oneshot #soulmate au #this has been in my drafts for 4-5 months LMAO #hope it isnt TOO rusty! #writing #ao3

[ladymcres]

brief disclaimer here, this is about build, so skip it if you find it uncomfortable

i waited a little bit before dumping whatever my brain is coming up with because yesterday was overall a hard day (real life shit happened) and i was not ready to face the eventual hate i could get for, you know, having opinions.

so, let’s start from the fact that i am not a perfect person, i do have flaws and for the same reason i do not expect perfection from anyone, neither from my close circle of friends/family nor from the people i happen to follow online.

that’s why what has been coming out in the last months - and yesterday specifically - is closure enough for me. i can’t even fathom how people can look at this whole situation and pick good and bad guys when it’s kinda obvious that they were in a relationship which turned to be pretty toxic and ended up in fire. what’s also true is that the allegations against build were indeed fake, (both the ones coming from netizens on twitter and the ones coming from poi) therefore he got his life ruined on the base of accusations that were never backed up from any evidence and were actually supported by fabricated pictures and blatant lies (making threads is not my thing, but this story is all over twitter if you’re interested) there’s also the fact that when push came to shove, he decided to take the whole thing on the legal route, while she decided that harassing him, his family (the whole thing against build’s sister was disgusting) and his fans was the right thing to do.

i’m not saying anybody should support him or turn into his fan, because i understand that we are all different and we perceive things differently, but refusing to acknowledge that in the beginning - and i put myself in there too - we were all blinded by prejudice and that the situation is now much clearer is hypocritical. I also believe that what happened to him is unfair and he deserves some sort of reparation for having his life ruined considering that things are clearly not going back to what they were before.

You do not need to be a build’s fan to see that poi lied from the beginning to the end and that as imperfect as build is, he was the one to be slandered and potentially abused. I mean, voice on the street (not confirmed from any parties, but you know, info like to leak) is that she will have to pay him a whole lot of money for this mess, which to me does not sound at all like settling, but rather admitting to a fault and deciding to pay up instead of facing more gruesome consequences.

I would also like to point out how the whole kp and bl fandoms are very much filled with double standards considering what’s been happening in the last week (and i’m not referring only to the whole gmmtv situation), but on the other hand i have hope that maybe people are starting to realize how dumb cancel culture (or fandom life the way it’s turning to be) is.

I hope Build can somehow get what he lost back and i hope he’s taking care of his mental health and, more than everything, i wish he’ll learn something from this experience. Just to be clear: this is a build-friendly blog. I won’t pretend i know him as a person, but i know him as an actor and artist and you know, 10 minutes of his acting left me gaping for a year now, so I will support any kind of project he may have in the future (i know chances of 4M happening are low but a girl can dream).

To conclude, please, do not send hate to people if you don’t like them, do not spread lies for clout, but practice kindness. There’s nothing to lose in that.

#build jakapan

[chaotictoast]

Waltz to Death - Prologue

Xe watched as the more experienced deity shifted its shape through multiple different Syrens. She could almost make out the individuals’ features but they shifted too fast for her to get a good grip. Finally, they settled into what looked like a young man with chin-length fluffy hair and blazing blue eyes. He was wearing a dark blue traveler’s outfit made of thick wool. “This one works, I suppose.” His voice was pleasant and melodic, as usual. “I am in a more extravagant mood today but it’s not quite appropriate to wear silks in this weather,” he laughed and he and Xe walked down a winter road, “so I guess I’ll settle for a boring traveler today.”

Xe still didn’t know how he could be so many things and people. Sometimes he wasn’t even a he, most times he didn’t adhere to any of those specifics. She told herself that she didn’t mind that she didn’t even know his name if he even had one. She admired his skill and thought of her own as she could only shift into a few different forms, and not any other people than how she usually expressed herself.

Xe fastened the buttons on her fur-lined coat. A bitter wind was beginning to stir and sting her cheeks. Her traveling companion didn’t look outwardly fazed. However, he had given himself a scarf that covered his face and nose. “There’s an inn up that way,” he said, pointing to a brick structure with a plume of smoke flowing lazily out of its chimney, “I’m sure they’ll like some business on this cold winter night.”

She agreed and the two of them made their way to the inn. The path they were walking on had been crudely shoveled out and made it so they had to walk single-file. The snowbanks were almost as tall as Xe, although they only reached to her companion’s shoulders. I guess I’m just short, thought Xe with an inward laugh.

As they made it to the inn, her companion checked them in. He pretended not to notice the innkeeper’s startled expression when she noticed his unnaturally blue eyes. When they were safe in their room he sighed, “Yellow probably would’ve been a better choice.”

“I like the blue. It’s classic,” Xe replied, settling down on the smaller of the two beds. The other was larger, but not by much.

“The yellow is ‘classic’ too,” he replied.

“I suppose,” Xe looked up at the bare wood ceiling, “One question. I’ve known you for almost my entire life, which admittedly isn’t that long, but I still don’t know your name.”

“I thought you didn’t mind not knowing?”

“I guess I do now.”

“Well, since you asked, my name is Aurentis,” he said. Xe figured that the name roughly translated to “fractal” or “the one who confuses through shape” in Oldest Syran, the language of Upper Gods like Albys and Syrra. The name made sense from what she knew of him.

As far as Xe knew, Aurentis was one of the older gods in the pantheon, although they usually kept to themself or did errands for Syrra, who couldn’t leave her domain lest she be cast out permanently and another god take her place as Priest of the Sun. From that logic, Xe figured that the whole reason she was with them was that she was the errand for Syrra, whatever that meant. It left a bad taste in her mouth but she still had some sort of innate respect for the Sun Goddess, was she the one who made her? She tried her best not to think of it.

All she knew now was that they were headed north, and at this point, they were about halfway across The Towering Range that split the continent of Seunby-Sy in two. On one side was the Golden Rainforest, named for the way the sunlight filtered through the leaves; and the Kingdom of Tataki and the Vetur Alliance of Provinces, both of which were subject to a terrible lycanthropic curse over a hundred years ago which made all their citizens more wolf or foxlike than human. On the other side of the mountains is the cold Xiollan desert and strangely crystalline Aevum forest, along with the split Syrenian kingdoms of Ornithincia and Sylven. Xe thought it was strange that she never had to be told this information, but maybe it just came with the territory of being a god? Demigod? Spirit? Angel? Something along those lines.

The next day they started their descent down from the mountains. Traveling became much quicker once they got out of the domain of people, as they could shift into more graceful shapes and run on four tireless legs. Aurentis preferred a form similar to a wolf or fox, although it was taller with long legs and tail, and a peculiar blue coloring with dark blue stripes that ran down the entire length of its body. Xe’s favorite form was a black wolf with one long horn on one side of her head. And so they ran for tireless miles, and sometimes they flew, Xe as an eagle and Aurentis as a dark blue jay with stars glittering under its wings.

“Where are we going?” Xe finally asked.

“To Albys. You need the blessing of the Moon Preist,” Aurentis said, diving through the sky to land in the suddenly appearing prairie. And she heard no more about it.

#oc #writing #original story #this is mostly for my YouTube followers lol #anyways writing a thing #I’ll try to keep up and remember to write #original pantheon #worldbuilding

[nuggets-and-french-fries]

Hello!!! How are you? The moment I read the be creative part in the dos and donts I had this idea...now just hear me out. Jimmy and Eggsy are twins (or brothers whatever works best for u <3) separated at birth which is how they ended up w their own separate lifes. At some point they find out about each other bc of Eggsys work. The reader is Eggsys best friend who is also a Kingsman and meets Jimmy (maybe at Eggsys wedding?) And Jimmy being Jimmy is all flirty and things start to develop between them? Could you maybe write about it? Ofc only if you have time and like the idea!

Note: Hi lovely. I want to thank you for your immense patience with me.

I know that this is on the short side but I'm proud of it. Also, sorry if there is spelling mistakes and other grammatical errors, I did try and edit but I may have missed some things.

I hope that you enjoy!

===

Bad boy Jimmy Keene had grown up in an unhealthy home feeling like he had been missing a part of himself. For the longest time, he tried to fill that void with anything and everything he could think of. Drugs, alcohol, cars, money, weapons and most of all, women. He loved women.

He loved how he could chill with them the way he couldn’t with a man. He loved how their hands fit in his and he loved making them moan and scream his name. He loved the powerful feeling he got when they would look at him as though he was their next meal….the feeling more than mutual.

The one thing he loved more than anything? The darkened corners of the strip clubs he would visit on a late Friday night. A Friday night much like this one.

Jimmy swaggered into the building with a confidence about him that most of the people inside could never possess. Everyone except you.

You watched from the bar as Jimmy settled into his corner before the person in your ear piece spoke.

“Focus please, agent Vivian.” Merlin spoke as he noticed the woman staring at their target.

“I am. I’m watching the target to make sure he doesn’t do anything.” You said sassily, making Eggsy laugh through the ear piece.

You and Eggsy had been friends for a very long time and when this case came up, you were paired together which was a choice that Merlin now found himself regretting.

“I still can’t believe that we found him.” Eggsy said in disbelief that they were tracking his long-lost twin brother.

That fact he even had a brother to begin with was surreal to Eggsy but to find that the brother was identical to him, that was worlds of surreal that he didn’t think existed.

Before you could reply with your two cents on the matter, Jimmy was on the move and heading straight to where you were sitting.

You hadn’t noticed it but while you were talking to your colleagues, Jimmy’s eyes had fallen upon you, and he was enamoured by you and your beauty.

“Hello gorgeous.” Jimmy greeted as he came to a stand still next to you.

Your breath hitched when you faced him. It was like you were staring at Eggsy except Jimmy had an American accent and had black hair as apposed to Eggsy’s brown hair and south London accent. Sure Eggsy was hot and fucking sexy but Jimmy seemed to put Eggsy to shame.

“Gorgeous?” You questioned with a quirked brow.

“You’re right, you’re more than that.” Jimmy said, eyeing you up and down.

It made you feel self conscious if you were being honest, even if you did think Jimmy was modeled after a Grecian god.

“Does that shit ever work for you?” You asked, somewhat unimpressed that he was trying to get into your pants.

“You go girl.” Merlin whispered, speaking to you through your ear piece.

You wanted to laugh out loud at the Scotsman, but you didn’t. You held it in.

“Come on now, I saw you watching me.” Jimmy said, leaning in a little closer.

You tried to keep your cool.

“Who says it was out of interest?” You questioned with a hint of cheek in your tone.

Jimmy’s brows raised in surprise. He had never had someone so attractive play hard to get the way you were.

“I like you.” Jimmy said, pointing his finger at you as a smirk appeared on his face.

“Good to know.” You replied.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Jimmy asked and you shrugged.

“Nothing cliché and girlie.” You told him, giving in just a little, though you could feel Eggsy’s gaze burning a hole in your brain.

“Agent Vivian, there is no time for this now.” Merlin lectured.

You cleared your throat and made excused yourself to the bathroom.

Did you return to Jimmy against Merlin and Eggsy’s wishes, perhaps. Did you have a good time, maybe. Did you and Jimmy do the deed, you weren’t one to kiss and tell.

All you knew was that this bad boy had you wrapped around his little finger.

===

Tag List:

@elizami11s @geo-winchester @stilessbaseballbat

#taron egerton fanfic #taronegertonxy/n #taronegertononeshot #taron egerton imagines #taronegertonfanfiction #jimmykeenexreader #jimmykeeneimagine #eggsyunwinxyn #eggsy unwin imagine #kingsman imagine #merlin kingsman

[thebeautifullydamnedone]

Heart Stopper (Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Naval medic Rhiannon Hayes didn’t know what to expect on her newest post, but it certainly wasn’t Lieutenant Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. They run into each other and the games begin. But will she be able to resist the charming Lieutenant, or will she cave?

A/N: Hey guys! I couldn’t get this story idea out of my head, so after hours of writing, editing, and perfecting, here it is! Please feel free to comment and let me know how it is, and there’s plenty more to come! I am open to requests, and any ideas you guys may have! Thank you for reading and supporting! -C

The Captain led Rhiannon and her partner Kacey through the passageway and then turned into a room with a bunk in it. “This will be your living quarters while you join us here on the carrier. If there’s anything you need, please let us know. I’ll let you get settled. There’s a briefing this evening at 1900 on the mission happening tomorrow. Attendance will be required for all support staff.” Rhi nods to him as Kacey examines the small room near the hospital bay. He turns on his heels and exits quickly Rhi turns her full attention to Kacey.

Kacey grins wickedly at Rhi and tosses her duffel on the top bunk. “I call top bunk!” Rhi rolls her eyes at her childishness and waves her off before tossing her own duffel on the bottom bunk.

“I’m still confused why we’re here. I mean…. the mission is mostly Top Gun aviators, right? There’s no combat here, what the hell do they need medics for?” Kacey hoists herself onto the top bunk and laid on her back.

“As far as I know, no combat,” She replies to Rhi. “But look at it this way. This will be the easiest post we’ve ever worked on! An aviation mission with zero combat and barely any patients to look after is like a vacation for us! Enjoy it.”

With a chuckle Rhi checks her watch before glancing back up at Kacey. “Let’s go check out the sick bay before the briefing!” She groans under her breath, clearly perfectly content to lay on the bunk until the meeting.

“Fine. But only because I heard a rumor that they’re doing pre-flight physicals on the pilots for tomorrow and I could use a visual pick-me-up.” She winks at Rhi as she jumps off the top bunk, landing gracefully on her feet.

Both girls head towards the sick bay that will be their home for the next week until the mission is complete, and the powers that be decide where to send you next. “I mean, I was thinking more like introducing ourselves to the Commanding Officer, but sure, also the hot pilots.”

She burst out laughing right as you both entered the sick bay, and all eyes turn to you both. Rhi scans the room and notices a few guys in a row of chairs. All of them are shirtless and most of them hooked up to blood pressure and heart monitors. Rhi deduces that those are the pilots for tomorrow’s mission, each being assessed by Naval nurses for pre-flight physicals to ensure their bodies are up to the task, whatever it may be.

Kacey is clearly ogling the blonde officer across the room who radiates confidence as the guys assess you as well. Rhi can’t help but notice the guy a few chairs down from him though. He’s got his eyes on her too, and when he sees her notice him too, he cracks a confident smile. Not wanting to feed his ego she nods an acknowledgment his way before looking away and scanning the room for your CO. The pilot wasn’t half-bad looking. Very toned, defined biceps and abs. Brown hair that’s clearly been lightened by the sun, and a mustache atop his perfectly plump lips.

You nudge Kacey out of her trance and nod towards the officer heading your way. “You must be my new medics.”

Both women salute their new CO until acknowledged. He reaches out to shake each of your hands. “I’ve heard great things. We’re thankful to have the extra help, it’s been a hectic week.”

Rhi smiles at him. “Thank you, sir, we’re happy to be here and ready to help where we can.” He glances down at his clipboard and then back up at you both.

“Excuse my ignorance, which of you is Hayes and which of you is Davis?”

Rhi smiles politely and clears her throat. “Rhiannon Hayes, sir. Most call me Rhi.” She motions towards Kacey. “And Kacey Davis.” She waves shyly at him with a smile of her own.

“Great! Listen, I’m sure you’ve been told about the briefing at 1900.” He peeps at his watch and then back up. “Which is in 20 minutes. We’re doing last minute pre-flight physicals on the pilots chosen for tomorrow’s mission. The briefing is mostly for them, but always good to have the support staff on standby included. Tomorrow, you report here at 0700 and will be here until 1900 or as long as needed. Not a lot to do around here for two experienced combat medics, butif anything should arise it’ll be all yours. If either of you need anything, please feel free to reach out. Excuse me.”

He walks away briskly as he’s motioned over by a nurse with a man on a gurney. Rhiannon glances at Kacey and smiles. “Sounds easy enough. Like you said, a vacation.” You both share a quiet high five before realizing you might as well make your way to the briefing. You both stroll quietly through the carrier until finding yourself in a large room. You both take your seats, and all is quiet awaiting the start but Kacey nudges you slightly as the men from earlier enter the room.

“Dude, that one’s had his eyes on you since we saw him in the sick bay.” She says under her breath as yet again before catching the cute pilot from earlier eyes again. “I call the blonde one.” Rhi rolls her eyes playfully at her and nudges her to focus as the briefing starts.

As Rhi sits through the entire briefing it occurs to her that this mission sounds damn near impossible. At least two “miracles” as they call it would need to be performed to even achieve it, not to mention the dog fight when they leave enemy air space. In her experience with combat, this sounds like mass casualties waiting to happen. All is quiet as the team is officially announced. Rhi perks up a little when the sandy-haired man from earlier steps forward to the name “Rooster” being called.

When the briefing is over everyone is dismissed. On the way back to the bunk Rhi and Kacey quietly discuss how random and sometimes weird the call signs were. You giggle amongst yourselves as they walk back into their small room. Checking her watch, she realizes the briefing has taken over two hours and it’s late. “Kace, we should get to bed. We report at 0700, remember?”

She grumbles but agrees and both get ready before settling into your bunks for the night. The next morning comes bright and early with the blare of the alarm she’d set the night before. Neither of them being morning people you both dress in your uniforms in total silence and head to the mess hall. Breakfast is a quick affair, and mostly quiet. The room is unusually hushed with the weight of what today could hold.

After an awful cup of coffee and a small breakfast both women make their way back to the sick bay. Tension is everywhere on the carrier as they both make their way into the bay. Rhi and Kacey report to their CO and are told that all stable patients have been discharged, and any unstable patients have been sent to the mainland for further treatment. You’re both told to wait and if anything comes up, respond. If anything were to happen and you’re needed, your squad’s name is “Alpha Med Team”. It brought Rhiannon back to the days on the ambulance working alongside Kacey as EMTs before they decided to join the Navy together.

Rhi settles into a comfortable chair with Kacey by her side and begins the start of one of the most boring days either of you have experienced at work. Without any patients to check on it’s mostly sitting around gossiping with Kacey about the next post. You’ve both been tipped off that you were either being shipped off for another combat mission or being sent back to Fightertown again. Rhi would honestly be happy with either but going back to North Island seemed like a much more chill option. Her parents are both based out of the mostly overrun Naval town and it’d be nice to see them again.

Most of the day has passed when cheers could be heard erupting from all over the ship. A few people ran into the sick bay to exclaim that all pilots on the mission had returned, and the mission had been a complete success. Rhi claps along with them and selfishly wonders when their CO will allow her and Kace to leave. Their stomachs are grumbling, and it’s almost 1900.

Rhiannon and Kacey are in the midst of a deep conversation on why military guys are just her type and how Rhi has actively avoided them when the tones sound throughout the sick bay. It jolts you both into focus as a voice overtakes the speaker. “Alpha Med Team. Cardiac arrest. Main flight deck. Delta response.”

Every nurse’s head in the bay whipped over to them as Kacey and Rhi leap to their feet. “Shit!” She grabs the AED machine, and Rhi grabs the medic bag before both take off to the hall full-on sprinting. “What the hell happened to vacation, Kace?!” Both bob and weave through the soldiers in the tight halls who ducked out of your way. “Clear the path! Medical emergency!”

Rhi doesn't understand what’s happening. A cardiac arrest on the main deck right as the last two pilots return? Too much excitement? As you both burst onto the main deck Rhi sees where the patient is based on the amount of people circled around them. The sound of running alerts the sailors circling the patient and they quickly step out of the way. Rhi sees an older gentleman, maybe mid-forties, lying on his back. A man stands over him, patting his cheek to see if he will respond.

Once beside the patient she tosses the medical bag beside him and gently moves the gentleman next to him away. “Stand aside sir, thank you.” She drops to her knees and immediately begins your assessment while Kacey fires up the AED. “What happened here, people? Did anyone witness him collapse? Any trouble before, med history I need to know about? Age, name? Anything?”

Information begins to sporadically flood in from different people as she quickly realizes the guy isn’t breathing nor does he have a pulse. His pupils are responsive but he’s completely out, not even reacting when she sternal rubs him for a reaction. “Kacey, we have a full arrest.”

His name is Officer Reed Adams, forty-two-year-old male with no known medical history. He was celebrating with everyone else when he clutched his chest and collapsed. He was down for around two minutes but they called for medics immediately. Without hesitation Rhi begins chest compressions as she glances around for Kacey. Kacey is preparing the AED, pulling out equipment to manually insert an airway in case, as well as the ventilating bag, and gloves for the both of you just in case. “Kacey, be ready for ventilations!” She nods, fully focused on the task at hand.

It probably should have made Rhi nervous that over a hundred people were looking on to the scene but all that matters is the patient. She continues CPR for another minute before realizing that nothing is happening. “Kacey, next time I vent I need the pads on him.” Immediately as she moves to his mouth to give him two rescue breaths Kacey is placing the AED pads on his chest, after skillfully cutting through his uniform with her trauma shears.

She takes a quick break as the AED analyzes his heart rhythm. She realizes she is slightly out of breath and her arms already ache from the effort of chest compressions. She shakes it off and quickly looks up at the first person she made eye contact with. “Someone call sick bay; I need a stretcher out here now!” The guy nods and takes off across the flight deck.

Rhiannon turns her attention immediately back to the AED as the voice prompt speaks once more. “Shock advised. Stand clear, push to shock.” She takes a deep breath and looks up at Kacey who is equally as flushed as her.

Clearing her throat, she looks down at the lifeless man in front of her. “Shock advised. Everybody, clear?” She glances up as Kacey, who throws up her hands. Rhi reach over to the AED, her finger hovering over the shock button. “Shocking in 3, 2, 1….” She press the button and watches the man flail up momentarily before going still once more. “Shit…” She mutters under her breath as she immediately begins compressions again. “Kacey, I need the epi ready just in case!” She glances up wildly as she continues compressions. “Where’s my stretcher?”

At the stopping point she analyzes his rhythm again and is once more met with “Shock advised. Stand clear, push to shock.” Rhi groans a little and wipes at her forehead as she looks up to Kacey once more.

“Everybody, clear?” Kacey holds up her hands once more and Rhi reaches down to the AED again. “Shocking in 3, 2, 1…” She pressed the shock button and watched it deliver. A commotion throughout the crowd gets her attention momentarily as the stretcher is quickly wheeled over to them. But then, the most beautiful sound from their monitor rings. Rhi’s eyes whip to the monitor, and she lets out a gasp of excitement. “I have a pulse! Kacey, grab me the spine board! I want him on the stretcher now!”

Kacey immediately leaps into action as Rhiannon continues to ventilate the patient who is still having difficulty breathing. Within a matter of moments, they log-roll him to get the spine board underneath him. Kacey and another set of hands lift him off the flight deck and quickly transfer him onto the stretcher. Right as Rhiannon begins to lift the stretcher up higher Kacey’s concerned voice shouted out. “Flatline! I have asystole!”

“Damnitt!” Rhiannon exclaimed before doing the only thing she can do. She hoists herself up on the stretcher and straddles Officer Adams hips and immediately restarts chest compressions. “Kacey let’s GO! I want him in the sick bay! I need the crash cart ready when we get there. Go, go, go!” The stretcher immediately lurches forward as she continues chest compressions and ventilations the entire way to sick bay where everything is ready and waiting when they arrive.

When they arrive, Rhi climbs off the patient and helps transfer him to the bed. Everyone works tirelessly for what felt like ages, but eventually the officer was revived fully and immediately placed on oxygen. The doctor assures both Rhiannon and Kacey that the officer will remain in sick bay until he is stable enough to transport to North Island for observation and rehab.

When it is all said and done Rhi and Kacey share a triumphant high five and a mutual agreement that they both are in desperate need of a shower. They are both dismissed, and both head to the showers and then to change into a fresh uniform. When done both enthusiastically find their way to the mess hall where the celebrations have continued.

Upon entering the mess hall, it goes silent for only a moment before loud applause breaks out everywhere. Rhiannon and Kacey both glance around to see where the pilots they are applauding are before realizing in astonishment, they are applauding you guys. Apparently, word has spread throughout the ship quickly that Officer Adams has been successfully revived and is recovering in sick bay. Both women smile graciously around them, making their way to the food, receiving so many pats on the back and “great jobs” everywhere they turn.

Rhiannon and Kacey, both serve themselves on trays and go to sit down. But before either could get to the only table that wasn’t already occupied, Kacey is pulled aside by the blonde pilot from earlier who immediately starts laying on the charm. “Want me to wait?” Rhi turns to Kacey, but she’s already fully engulfed in the smooth-talking pilot who identifies himself only as “Hangman”. She merely shakes her head in Rhi’s general direction and continues to talk to him. Shrugging Rhiannon heads to the table, setting her stuff down and sitting.

She immediately cracks open her first bottle of water and chugs half of it before setting it back down and picking up her fork. She pierces a piece of the pasta on her plate and lifts it up to put it in her mouth when the squeak of the chair beside her being pulled out catches her attention. She takes the bite and turns to see the brown-haired pilot from earlier taking a seat beside her with a tray of his own. He flashes Rhi a smile and she smiles back around the bite of food. “You’re the medic, right? From earlier?”

She nods and finishes chewing before responding. “I’m one of the medics from earlier. And you are one of the pilots that flew that mission today?” He grins, obviously happy that she at least semi-know him.

He produces his hand for her to shake. “Bradley Bradshaw. Call sign: Rooster.” At this she smiles as she takes his hand in her own and shakes it.

“You let people call you, Rooster?” She lets out a small laugh and shakes her head. Yet again reminded of the earlier conversation with Kacey on why some call signs are just ridiculous and weird.

He chuckles and shrugs. “Yeah, I mean, my dad’s call sign was Goose. So, when I got to the academy, I got the call sign Rooster.” Well, she thinks to herself, after it was explained it wasn’t quite so silly. She takes another swig of water as he watches her intently. “And your name is?”

Watching him spear his own piece of pasta and turn his attention back to her, she smiles. “Rhiannon Hayes. My friends call me, Rhi.” He nods quickly after taking his bite.

“I gotta tell ya, what you did earlier? That was impressive. I mean, I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” She appraised his face, looking for some kind of sign of sarcasm.

Much to his surprise she lets out a small laugh. “Wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight.” His eyebrows tilt up as you giggle. “You are a Top Gun aviator, top 1% of all aviators. And who just flew a next-to-impossible mission, and you’re impressed with me giving some quality CPR?”

At this statement he lets his own laugh out and sits back fully in his chair. Rhiannon can’t help but notice the way the muscles in his arms and his broad shoulders strain against the fabric of his flight suit. “I’m glad I amuse you. But, I mean, yeah. You do impress me. What you did was not only admirable, but it was incredible to watch. You had laser focus, total control of the situation, and zero fear. Calm and focused in a situation like that is the kind of stuff fighter pilots dream of.”

She’s immediately embarrassed to feel the flush of her cheeks blushing at his compliments. “Um, thanks? I guess. I mean, it’s just part of the job. When you’re the only thing standing between your patient and a body bag, you just….do what needs to be done. You must have some idea what that’s like. You just flew the most impressive mission I’ve ever heard of.”

Tapping his fingers against the tops of his leg he shrugs once more. “A great fighter pilot once told me, ‘Don’t think, just do’.” She nods almost immediately at the advice.

“Exactly. When something like that happens, you don’t have time to do anything other than trust your instincts.” She leans back in her chair and watches him analyze her with a content smile that he’d found some common ground with her. After a moment her blunt personality shines through. “You know, to be honest, you’re a lot different than I thought you’d be. I mean, different from other pilots I’ve met.”

Once again, you’ve captured his curiosity and he leans forward, resting his elbows against the table. “Oh? Well, I’m flattered. How’s that?” She laughs at his joke and shrugs a little, mostly to herself.

As Rhi watches him, she realizes maybe he’s a little like other pilots. He’s clearly puffed up a bit at the compliment she’s giving him. “You’re…. decently humble. Not so full of yourself. And you started the conversation talking about someone other than yourself. That’s pretty impressive.” He chuckles again and she plays with the unappetizing pasta on her plate. “I mean, most pilots are intolerably proud of themselves. Kinda like your friend over there talking to my partner.” She nods her head in the general direction of Kacey and her new “friend”.

Rooster glances over at Hangman for a miniscule second before returning his attention back to Rhi. “Yeah, I mean, Hangman can be a little conceited, but he’s a good guy. Once you get past all the sarcasm and self-confidence he’s got going on. I mean, your friend seems pretty interested in him.”

She lets out a laugh at this and nods. “Yeah, well, Kacey hasn’t completely sworn off all military men like me. Hasn’t learned her lesson, I guess.” At this comment she has his entire attention again, with a raised brow he leans forward.

“Sworn off all military men, huh?” She looks up into his kind-of stunning hazel eyes as he stares at her with interest. “You mean…. even fighter pilots?” He wags his eyebrows at her as he motions dramatically to himself and his flight suit.

Rhi laughs again, a little louder than last time. He clearly thinks he’s climbed over her wall of resistance towards military men. She leans forward and motions him closer with her finger. He leans all the way forward and she glances around, pretending to make sure no one is listening before whispering to him, “Oh, especially fighter pilots.” Rhiannon cracks a smile at him, and he smiles back. She can almost see the challenge in his eyes.

He opens his mouth to make another witty retort but the loudspeaker crackles before coming to life with a monotone voice. “Alpha Med Team, please report to sick bay for deployment briefing. I repeat, Alpha Med Team, please report to sick bay for deployment briefing.” Rhiannon’s eyes flicker to Kacey across the room.

So, it’s been decided. Their next assignment has been chosen. She clears her throat as she pushes the tray away and turns her attention back to Rooster. “Well, that’s my queue.” She pushes off the table and stands up, but he follows suit and stands alongside her.

“Wait, deployment briefing? Like, you’re shipping out?” As she looks up at him she realizes he’s at least a foot taller than her. She smiles up at him and fakes a shrug.

“Maybe. I guess I’ll find out in a second.” He looks like he wants to say more to her, but she turns to leave. “Sucks to be the best of the best, doesn’t it?” Rhi shoots him a wink before walking off to meet up with Kacey. You both head to sick bay where you’re told your next assignment. You’re both being called back to North Island temporarily to oversee the training of a new class of combat medics.

Both women leave the meeting beyond happy with their next assignment and decide to turn in for the night, exhausted from the day of surprising events.

Rhiannon awakens the next morning to the alarm clock blaring. She turns it off and rolls over, groggily groaning still half-asleep. “You coming to breakfast or staying here for a bit?” She calls up to Kacey in the above bunk, who merely answers by grumbling under her breath. Smiling slightly and standing up, she turns on the overhead lamp to get dressed. When she’s all done she turns off the light and leaves her partner to catch some extra Z’s before heading towards the mess hall.

When she walks in she realizes it’s not nearly as full as dinner was last night and for that she’s grateful. Rhiannon is not exactly a morning person, and she definitely needs at least one cup of coffee before dealing with the day. She immediately makes herself a small plate of scrambled eggs, two slices of bacon, and a banana. And then grabs the biggest cup of coffee she can find and turns to find a table.

Nearly spilling the entire tray, the coffee included, when she almost smacks into Rooster. “Jesus. Hi. Sorry. I’m still half-asleep.” He chuckles at her and appraises her face with something that looks like appreciation.

“Well, you look beautiful. Not that you didn’t yesterday but…” He wavers, obviously a little nervous. “Sorry, um, I just was curious where you’re being deployed next? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

Rhi blinks up at him, wondering why he’d care where she’ll end up next. But she shrugs it off and balances the tray in one hand. She picks up the coffee and takes a long swig of it. “Um. North Island to instruct a new class of combat medics. We leave this afternoon at 1500.”

As she says this his entire face lights up and he lets out a surprised chuckle. “Really? Wow. That’s amazing! We’re also heading back to North Island this afternoon at 1500. Guess we’re going back there together. I mean, not together, but you get what I mean.” She smiles up at him and nods.

“Yeah, I guess so. Are you excited to be going back? I’m sure this mission has taken a lot out of you.” They both hear someone call out his name from across the cafeteria and see the woman who also went on the mission with them trying to wave him over.

He holds up a finger, motioning for her to hold on a minute before turning back to her. “Yeah, I mean, North Island is kind of like a second home. I’m more excited now that I know you’ll be there too. Um, what do you say to letting me take you out for dinner or a drink when we get back stateside?”

She smiles up at him, almost a little sorry that she must turn him down. Not for any particular reason, he seemed like a perfectly nice, respectful guy. But she’d promised herself after the last guy that she was swearing off all military men, and that included Rooster. “Ah, well, that’s a problem. It’s sweet of you to offer but, I don’t date fighter pilots, remember?”

He grins, clearly what he heard he’s accepted as a challenge. “Yeah, but I mean, it’s me we’re talking about. I’m not just any regular fighter pilot, remember?” He winks at her, reminding her of the compliment she’d given him the previous day. “Come on, can’t you make an exception, for me?” At this he folds his hands together and excessively bats his long eyelashes at her dramatically.

She places her coffee back on her tray, still balancing it with her left hand and reaches out playfully to pay him on the shoulder. “Over your dead body, fly boy. I’ll see ya later, Rooster.” With that she moves around him to take a seat and eat her breakfast as he feigns wounded and heads over to his friend’s table.

Rhiannon sits alone and indulges in her breakfast and more coffee. A few times she notices Rooster and a few of his pilot friends glance her way but she actively tries to avoid making eye contact. She can tell that for whatever reason she’s the topic of conversation over there and she’s almost certain he’s recanting the tale of him asking her out and getting rejected.

She zones out while sipping her coffee when suddenly someone shouting catches her attention. “Holy shit! Help! I need help over here! I-I don’t think he’s breathing!” Her eyes rapidly scan the room, and she can see the pilots crowded around right next to their table.

Before she can fully process what she’s doing she’s leapt to your feet and is dashing across the mess hall to the commotion. “Move, please! I’m a medic!” She shoves through the crowd and her breath gets caught up in her throat when she sees Rooster lying on his back, obviously unconscious. “What the hell happened?!”

Instantly dropping to her knees as his friend babbles on. “I don’t know! He stood up to leave and just collapsed! Thank God you were here! Help him!” She adjusts his head, so his head is completely facing the ceiling and she checks his carotid artery. A breath of relief rushes out of her as she realizes he’s got a strong pulse.

Quickly she leans over and places her ear right next to his nose. Shit. He’s not breathing, she thinks to herself. She sits up quickly and watches his chest for rise and fall and see it’s totally still. “He’s not breathing! Did he choke on something?” Her eyes move to his friend who’s got her face covered, probably embarrassed she’s crying.

“No! I mean, I don’t think so! He was talking just fine!”

Immediately she leaps back into action. “I need someone to run to the sick bay and get me a trauma bag! I need portable oxygen and a stretcher here right now!” She’s shouting up at the milling crowd but then laughter erupts from beneath her. Rhi stiffens before her eyes dart down to Rooster who’s practically in tears he’s laughing so hard. “W-What…?”

She realizes he’s not the only one laughing. Every single one of his pilot friends are laughing and high fiving each other too. Her eyes land back on Rooster as he tries to sit up and she shoves him hard back down to the ground. “What the hell are you doing?! You faked a respiratory emergency?! W-Why would you do that?!”

Now that most of the soldiers in the mess hall have realized it’s a prank they start to dissipate. Rooster is still laughing pretty hard as he tries to speak around his laughter. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s just…” He laughs again as Rhi takes  deep breaths to calm her still-crazy beating heart. The adrenaline is wearing off and now she’s left with anger, total confusion, and a small bit of gratitude that he’s not actually in respiratory arrest. “Y-You said over my dead body would you go on a date with me, s-so…. I died!”

At this his friends erupt in another fit of laughter and knee-slapping. Her eyes are wide as she stares down at this infuriating man, but the anger slowly starts to fade, and she lets out a few shocked laughs before full-on losing control and laughing as well. Now that the anger has faded she realizes how oddly charming and funny this situation is. The guy was so desperate to get her to say yes to one little date he was willing to fake his own death.

She plops completely on the floor in a fit of giggles and shakes her head at him. He props himself up completely and then turns his attention to her. “Well?” He raises an eyebrow her way again. “Will you let me take you out now? I mean, I died for you!”

Rhiannon watches his eyes twinkle with more laughter and he’s grinning cheekily at her. He really is unlike any guy she’s ever even considered going out with. He gets to his feet before reaching down and helping her to her own. She looks back up into his beautiful eyes and giggles a little bit more as he waits for an answer. He’s still semi-holding onto her hand as she squeezes it a little.

“I mean…. you did die for me. How do I say no to that?” His grin gets even wider if that’s even possible and she shakes her head at him. “Fine, Rooster, you can take me out when we get back to North Island. Just once.”

He lets out a triumphant holler and turns to high five his friends and congratulates them on a prank well done. She watches as he celebrates his crazy victory and admires him a bit. He’s dedicated, she’ll give him that. And he’s willing to go to extreme lengths just to make her smile, laugh, and say yes to dinner or a drink. She completely comes to terms, right then and there, that he’s definitely a handful and maybe more mischief than he’s worth.

But it’s just one little date.

What could it hurt?

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fan fiction #original story #bradley bradshaw #love story #top gun love #thebeautifullydamnedone

[kieiswrite]

First draft of the first chapter of a fic. Ranchers. The story would eventually have shipping and tragedy, but the beginning is fluffy. Right at the start there is a mild graphic description of the aftereffects of a creeper explosion.

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United we fall, chapter 1

Death brought them together.

Jimmy woke up on the ground feeling like his whole body had just been torn to shreds. A disconcerting thing to feel, especially as it was not associated with any sort of pain. His skin was tearing, his bones shattering, his blood and flesh splattering around him, and yet the only sensations were the mild discomfort caused by sticks and pebbles against his back, the wind touching his face and the stretch of his chest as he gasped for air. Branches of an oak tree swayed above him. The sky was blue.

Forest, he thought. What is attacking me in a forest? Am I dying?

Am I dead?

The memory of the explosion was already beginning to fade. He was undeniably breathing, he could move his fingers, but he felt weak, and cold, and at the very back of his head he felt afraid.

In a remarkable feat of willpower, Jimmy twisted his neck to look around him. On his left side there was grass. On his right side— 

On his right side right next to him lay somebody—a man? It was shaped like a man, but it had red eyes—not just red pupils, irises or sclerae, but full red, this bright intense almost burning red—and those unearthly eyes were open very wide, and its mouth was moving.

“I’m sorry!” the man cried, “I’m so sorry!” just the same time as Jimmy screamed.

That is how he met Tango. Not the best start for a relationship, but on the bright side, after dying together things could only improve.

Eventually Jimmy got over his shock, and Tango got over his yelling apologies, and they managed to figure out the basics of their situation. They were bound together. The warmth that had settled under Jimmy’s skin, steady and comforting in one moment and wildly fluctuating the next, had been Tango all along. Tango’s eyes were still impossibly wide as he confessed he always felt another heartbeat parallel to his own.

“Do we need to stay together, then?” Jimmy asked. The red eyes still unnerved him, and for all Tango was acting meek and unthreatening, he did not appear to be entirely, or at all, human. The proportions of his body were off, his hair flickered like flames when it thought Jimmy was not watching, and his teeth felt pointed. 

Not looked. Felt.

Tango was wringing his hands as if he was about to start apologizing all over again. “I don’t know, I won’t—look, I understand if you don’t want to. I thought we would. I mean, with whoever I was partnered with, but now—”

“No, no,” said Jimmy. “I think it’s a good idea. A stellar idea. Honestly, I think we should. I was just asking to gauge your feelings about this. That’s all.”

Tango regarded him wary, shoulders tense, but he had started nodding and his voice was earnest. “Uh-huh, yes, uh-huh. Okay. I’m with you.”

Against his better judgment, Jimmy felt for him. Tango had messed up, in the worst possible way, but it had not been malice. At least it was not on me, went through Jimmy’s head, and while he was not happy about all this—all this business of being all of a sudden at the edge of inhumanity, being unsafe, being less than—it was much easier being gracious and forgiving than being the culprit. Besides, there was comfort in knowing he wouldn’t need to trudge through this strange land alone, even if his companion was some kind of a monster.

Jimmy had met monsters before. He could not have said when or why, but he was still alive, so it must not have gone terribly bad.

Neither one of them owned anything more than the clothes on their back. (Which—why clothes? It did not make sense. Why were they brought back with clothes? Not that Jimmy wanted to complain about it. If whatever the force that had dragged him in here cared about his decency, all the better. He was just wondering.) The forest was quiet and honestly sort of charming for now, but come nightfall it would get dangerous. They built a flimsy platform high up in a tree and huddled together when the sunset painted the world red.

“Do you remember anything?” Jimmy asked, since neither of them could sleep. He was freezing, but the only warmth available for them was each other’s bodies, and, well, it was awkward enough to be pressed side by side, so freeze he would. “From before?”

Tango was staring over the treetops, maybe to pretend the awkwardness was not there, or maybe he was thinking complex thoughts, the kind that were beyond Jimmy at this moment. “I think I was an engineer,” he said.

“An engineer? What kind?”

“Redstone.” Tango glanced at Jimmy, then returned to look afar. Something moved through the bushes below them. Hopefully something that did not know how to climb trees.

Tango smelled of burning. It was faint, nothing he would have paid attention to in an ordinary conversation, but here Jimmy could not help but to inhale it, and Tango was warm too, warmer than him at least. He tried to focus. “I think—I think I’ve heard of that, yeah. Redstone? That’s dangerous, isn’t it?”

“It can unravel you to teeny tiny little pieces or trap you eternally inside stone if you mess up, but it’s not dangerous as long as you know what you are doing.” Tango rested his hands on his knees, a relaxed position, but tension still lingered about him.

“And you for sure know what you’re doing,” Jimmy prompted.

Tango was deft with his hands, Jimmy had noted. Granted, he may have fumbled once or twice when they were preparing for the night, dropped a branch on his toes and then fell down from a tree so that Jimmy too lost his footing from the impact, and they both ended up on the ground grimacing and rubbing their butts—but when Tango got in the flow of work his fingers worked smart and nimble. An eye-catching mix of clumsiness and grace.

“Uh.” The fingers twitched. “Sure! Sure, of course, how about you, Jim?” He turned to look at Jimmy properly, no longer leaning on him and now only their knees were touching, and the wind chose just that moment to pick up and blow the last remaining bit of warmth out of him. “What were you before?”

He was shaking, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. “I, I don’t know, to tell you the truth, and I swear it is the truth, I would not try to keep things from you.” He smelled a bog and an ocean, the dust on a road; a rush of power; somebody crying out his name over and over, and he was flying—that had to be a dream—and he did not know what to make of any of that. “I don’t think I was any one thing. Just a man. A human,” he felt the need to clarify, “your average human male.”

Was he? He felt very human. A proper ordinary person, no mythical powers, no outstanding skill.

Then again, maybe everybody was a redstone engineer where Tango came from. Maybe everybody had a hair that looked like it was catching fire.

“Uh-huh.” Red eyes were locked on his own. “Why do you think we are here?”

“I’ve—I’ve got no c-clue. Maybe we did something wrong and this is a prison. Maybe whoever put us here thinks it’s funny. Is that right? Are we here just for entertainment?” The night swallowed his words and gave no answer. “It could be anything, really, if you think about it. It f-feels like a game, but what kind of a game assumes y-you will die, and n-not just once, no—”

“Are you cold?”

Jimmy blinked at Tango, who was watching him with obvious concern. Tango had a very expressive face, and the color of his eyes seemed to shift with his mood. “Well, I died. I’m a two-lifer now, am I not? That’s how it goes. I w-will be cold and fragile and miserable until I die again, and then all bets are off, for how I understand it.”

“Huh. It’s different with everyone then,” Tango said. “Here. You can have my vest. I can do one night without, and tomorrow we get some fire going and build a real sheltery place for us.”

Jimmy took the vest, smiled at him and Tango smiled back; tentative, shy even. He was quick to withdraw his hands.

They agreed to try to get some sleep. 

The idea was to doze in turns, but come morning they woke up both leaning on the trunk of the tree and against each other, Tango’s head on Jimmy’s shoulder, sun touching their faces through the leaves. Below them, a flock of sheep were chewing grass and making occasional sheep noises that had dragged Jimmy back to the waking world.

“Sheep,” he said, in wonder. “We should try to get some of those.”

#double life smp #tango tek #solidaritygaming #trafficshipping #not yet but it will get there #team rancher #double life fanfic #kiescribbles

[themythicalgeek]

Day 3 of TOH Hiatus

In “King’s Tide” we finally got to see the most anticipated event since the end of season 1: the Day of Unity. But after the initial hype of the episode had settled, I started to think about the way the Day of Unity was handled in the show. And I find that my feelings toward it have become… conflicted. Don’t get me wrong, I loved “King’s Tide” and I thought that the Day of Unity overall was very satisfying. It was intense, emotional and action packed. Luz’s confrontation with Phillip was immaculate and the plot to stop the Draining Spell was also really interesting. However, I find that I have one glaring issue with the way that the Day of Unity is handled.

And that main issue is The Collector. Now, I don’t have a problem with The Collector himself. I find that they are a very interesting character and the implications he has on the show’s world-building are ones that I am very excited to discuss later on. But I think that the Collector has really thrown a wrench in the entire story. While that’s not inherently bad, it impacted the way the Day of Unity was resolved specifically. The Collector literally just moves the moon out of the sky and suddenly the eclipse is over. The Day of Unity has ended. This scene does a great job at showcasing The Collector’s incredible power and the fear that that instills in our main cast helps to propel the story forward. But to me this end was incredibly anti-climactic. The Day of Unity has been teased and talked about since the end of season one and throughout the course of season 2, the tension surrounding that main plot point continues to build until it boils over and Phillip’s plan is revealed. And while the Day of Unity was handled well throughout “King’s Tide” (holding many great emotional beats, character moments, and furthers the plot spectacularly), it ends on a completely different note. The end was abrupt and the person to cause it wasn’t even one of the main characters, who had been working to stop Phillip’s plan since the beginning of season 2. And what makes this so upsetting to me is that it seems like the Day of Unity was cut short in order to fit in The Collector and whatever new plot points their presence might mean to the story. Which I don’t really like, since the Collector is someone that was introduced later on in season 2 and (at least I don’t think) holds as much weight as the Day of Unity does.

Now, I don’t know what Dana and the other writers have in store for The Owl House moving forward, but I’m also sure that the decisions they made were what worked best for their plan. And the way things have ended has certainly opened many interesting avenues for the third season. However, I can’t help but feel a little disappointed about the way the ending of the Day of Unity played out. It certainly isn’t bad, but I had hoped for a massive team-up of the characters, putting together their unique abilities to come up with a plan to end the Draining Spell and save the Boiling Isles. I guess, the only thing I can do is just wait for season 3 to come out and see what’s going to happen. Knowing Dana and the crew, I’m confident it’s going to be incredible. 

#the owl house #day of unity #toh spoilers #original post