#fanfiction adjacent

[themonopolyhat]

way back when i was a fandom youngster, i did some stuff that was (in retrospect) pretty unkind. not intentionally -- i didn't flame other people's fic in reviews, i didn't harass artists or authors, nothing like that. but in my ignorance, i participated in fandom in ways that i regret now, and i wish i could apologize personally to anyone i may have hurt back then.

i am sorry. i learned to do better. i hope you are happy, and enjoying your corner of fandom, wherever you've ended up.

maybe we've met again in the time since, and just didn't recognize each other. if that's the case, i hope i was able to brighten your day.

#fandom #fanfiction adjacent #all of which is just to say #i don't understand people who are intentionally cruel or hostile in fandom spaces #you might grow up too and regret it #but by that point you've already done damage #and it was intentional

[tervaneula]

let us catch you this time

#mmmmmm. yeah. feeling some kinda way tonight #message to bears - i know you love to fall #music rec #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt movie #rottmnt fanfiction #not quite kintsugi #nqk #nqk adjacent #future leonardo #future michelangelo #future raphael #future donatello #peepaw leo #peepaw mikey #tervdraws #i've known forever that i want to draw something for a mtb song

[natalievoncatte]

Lena squared herself up after she stepped from the elevator.

This has taken considerable work. She’d had to arrange for her absence from boarding school to go unnoticed, or at least, unremarked upon. If Lillian got wind of her running away, she’d have been skinned alive. Perhaps literally. Since her adoptive father’s death, she’d actually looked forward to school, and to being away from Lillian’s abuse. Lex was now the only thing keeping her from Lena, and Lex was preoccupied with his project.

Her brother had been away for school for some time, but they had summers off together at least. When Lex took over the company when he turned 21, he grew distant and aloof, spending more time with his friend Clark or at work than with family.

With his absence came Lillian.

Still, she had managed to build a support network. Frank, her bodyguard-slash-driver was Lex’s man, but he was useful. Lena had spent months buttering him up to participate in her plan: she needed wheels.

In the meantime she’d acquired blackmail material. The head master at the school gave her a broad latitude after she implied that she might expose certain proclivities of his. That gave her the time away she needed. She’d carefully negotiated a higher allowance from Lex in exchange for accelerating her studies in anticipation of beginning her undergraduate studies at sixteen, which was a triviality for her anyway.

Lena walked down the hall, heart pounding against the backpack clutched to her chest. Each step felt heavy, alive with portent.

She could turn back now. She could turn her back now.

What if she was wrong? Paranoid, addled, as crazy as her mother, just like Lillian said? What if she was about to not only blow up her whole life, but slander her brother. If this went sideways, she didn’t know what exactly would happened to her, but Lillian had once, while tipsy on whisky from Lionel’s stash, told Lena that if not for Lex, she’d have Lena garroted with piano wire and buried on the estate, and like any bag of trash, no one would notice she’d been disposed of.

When she told Lex, her hands shook like leaves. He looked at her for a long cold moment and she worried that he’d slap her or scream or throw her out of the house, but he simply said, “I’ll talk to her about it.”

He did. She never made another threat.

He also brought her a wooden box, ornate and polished. Lex sat next to Lena and opened the box, showing her the contents, lying on red velvet. A five shot snub nose revolver and two speedloaders.

“I’ll teach you how to use this,” Lex said, grimly. “I know you’re smart enough to know if you need to. If anyone tries to harm you, kill them. I’ll clean it up.”

Lena had been terrified of it for months, even as she enjoyed the shooting lessons from Lex, given in a remote part of the estate near a burbling creek, the shots cracking the morning peace and shaking dew from leaves.

She had the gun in her backpack, and her hands were shaking.

The other contents of her bag were a weapon far more devastating. She was about to fire it and she’d have to accept the consequences.

Finally, she stood outside the door. Apartment 18B. The name on the lease was Lois Lane, but according to Lena’s reconnaissance, Clark Kent had been living with her virtually full time for the last six months, not long after something changed in his relationship with Lena’s brother.

Lena’s hand hung before the door for a good minute before she knocked, weekly. She hadn’t considered what might happen if they were simply not home. Her legs felt watery and her eyes burned. She knocked again. She was committed now.

The door swung open and Lois Lane stood before her. She was beautiful in an understated way, obscured by limp hair in a chaotic bun, rumpled clothes, and the stink of coffee on her breath.

“Who- what? Kid, what do you want?”

“I need to see Clark Kent. Is he here?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Lena Luthor.”

There was a gust of wind behind her, and Kent stepped into view.

“Lena?” said Clark. “Lex’s little sister? What are you doing here?”

Lena’s throat went tight. She swallowed hard, and as she anticipated, his demeanor changed. He softened. He craned forward slightly, studying her intently, and his brows shot up when looked at her bag.

He was checking her vital signs and he’d spotted the gun. In the bag.

“He knows you’re Superman,” Lena choked out, “and he’s going to kill you.”

Lois glanced at Clark with a stunned, stunned wide expression. Then, she grabbed Lena and yanked her inside, slamming the door. Lena squeaked.

“How do you know that? Lex knows? Did he tell you? What do you mean he wants to kill Clark?”

“Hey,” Clark said, crouching beside Lena to bring himself to her level, resting a comforting hand on her slight shoulder. “Take a breath, Lena. You’re safe here.”

In Lena’s plan, she was going to begin explaining, starting with how she deduced his identity and lay out what she discovered in his files. That was her plan, but no plan survived first contact with the enemy.

Lena began to sob.

Superman knelt beside her and removed his glasses, and enveloped Lena Luthor in a warm, protective hug. She sobbed harder, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ,” Lois whispered.

She drew the gun out of the bag and checked it with professional, practiced familiarity, dumping the shells into her hand.

“I think she’s telling the truth.”

Clark nodded.

Over the next hour, Lena was swept to Lois’s big couch and sat in the middle while the pair sat on either side of her. When she was hungry, Clark went out to get her favorite guilty pleasure meal, a big greasy burger and fries, and a milkshake too. Between bites, she explained everything, telling them about her brother’s insane plan to turn the sun red.

They believed it all. Lena had receipts.

Eventually, Lena was exhausted, everything had been said, and she sat with dull shock on the couch and stared at the black mirror of a blank television set, marveling at how small and helpless she looked, like a drowned rat.

“Why don’t you lay down for a while?” Lois said, gently. “Here, I’ll put something on the TV for you.”

Lena didn’t make it ten minutes in before she was asleep, curled tightly on one end of the couch with a pillow under her head.

She woke sometime later. It was dark now and she heard voices on the far side of the apartment.

“I called Bruce. He said he’s in, and he’s bringing reinforcements. I’m going to try to get a Green Lantern on board. We have to move fast. Nevermind me, if Lex does this, millions of innocent people will die. We’ll have to move fast.”

“What about the girl?” said Lois. “She can’t go home now. We have to get her somewhere safe.”

“I have to get you both somewhere safe. I should probably come up with a reason to get the building evacuated. One Lex realizes he’s been caught out, he’ll come after both of you.”

“You’re right.”

“I want you to go out,” said Clark. “Make it look like you’re heading out to a convenience store. Bruce is sending Alfred to pick you up, he should be here in an hour. I have somewhere else in mind for Lena.”

“Where?”

“It’s better if I don’t tell you, just in case.”

When he emerged from the back bedroom, Clark Kent was resplendent, clothed in the persona of Superman.

“Lena?” he said, gently. “We have to go. I’ll take you somewhere safe, where your brother won’t find you.”

Lois joined him. “You’re going to put on some of my clothes, and I’m going to check your hair. You can’t take anything with you. Lex Luthor might have been tracking you the entire time.”

Lena’s stomach dropped. What if she was right? That might be a move Lex would play, tracking Lena so that he could use her against his enemy. Lex had become cold, single minded. Lena was wondering how long it would be until she was disposable.

“Okay,” said Lena.

“I’m going to have to fly you.”

Lena did as she was told. She put on an outfit that belonged to Lois, a hilariously oversized Gotham U sweatshirt and leggings. When it was time, Superman bundled her up in his cape.

“I’m scared of heights.”

“I would never drop you,” he said.

Lena screamed when he took off. She was glad for the cape, glad she couldn’t see the ground. She curled up around him and pressed her eyes tightly closed, wondering exactly how fast they were going.

The landing came surprisingly fast. He’d alighted on the grassy lawn of a lovely beach house. Lena smelled something baking and heard voices inside. Clark knocked on the door.

A girl, a little older than Lena, opened the door. Golden curls spilled over her muscular shoulders, and she wore an oversized pair of glasses that did nothing to dull the endless depths of her blue eyes. There was something profoundly sad behind the curiosity in those eyes. She looked at Lena with mild confusion.

Lena stared back. There was a wild stirring in her stomach, and she shifted uneasily on her feet.

Then, the girl addressed Clark in a rapid, clipped, and utterly strange sounding language.

It hit Lena like a shockwave.

They were speaking Kryptonian.

“Lena,” said Superman, turning to her. “This is Kara Zor-El, my cousin. The last daughter of Krypton.”

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #runaway Lena #my headcanon is that Kara is older #teen supercorp romance #Lillian Luthor is a rancid bitch #teen Lena was adorkable #Kara has jock tendencies but is only jock adjacent #You can have a little butch Kara as a treat

[toxicanonymity]

The Worst 

1.3k, Tom “Redfly” Davis x DARK f!Reader 

SUMMARY: You make Tom pay for Frankie's death.

WARNINGS: I8+ DARK FIC, DEAD DOVE noncon or very dubcon p in v, implied murder, roofie, forced gun sucking, restraints, degradation, praise kink?, Dom reader. Tom survives / Frankie dies AU.

Dedicated to @romanarose who is hosting a write a thon for the @triplefrontier-anniversary.

Happy 5 years to Tom ruining everything. He's the worst, but I'm sorry to say he's also packing.

-------------

You pretended to take comfort in him during your grief. Your flirtations over the past weeks had all been a ruse, as were your advances tonight. You always had one goal – to get Tom tied up in your basement.

Finally, you had him sitting at your kitchen table drinking a night cap. You rubbed his thigh and he looked at you like he wanted to eat you alive, if only he could muster the energy.  His eyelids were heavy with lust and a roofie.

“Maybe we could, uh, get more comfortable,” Tom slurred, nodding toward the living room. 

You downed the rest of your drink, set the glass down, and lowered yourself onto his lap, side saddle. 

“Ohh,” he muttered with his mouth barely open. “Hello.” 

“I was thinking we could go downstairs,” you purred. 

He swallowed, raised his eyebrows, and nodded, “Sure.” 

“Frankie ever tell ya ‘bout our hobbies? Lotta fun stuff down there.”

His face gave him away. “Uhh,” he stalled, “Sounds-” You ran your hand through his hair. “-Sounds good,” Tom muttered at a horny pitch. His eyes lingered on your lips, then he cleared his throat. 

“I'm gonna need ya to trust me though, Tom. Can ya do that?” 

Tom nodded. 

“Yes ma’am,” you whispered. 

“Yes ma’am,” he confirmed, clearly enjoying this. Your dominance was a perfect fit for his being a lazy sack of shit. 

“Good.”

—----------

In the basement–more of a sex dungeon, as it were–you sat Tom down in a metal chair. He let you tie him up and barely objected when you zip tied his hands behind his back. 

“Mmm,” he hummed as you did it. 

“Good boy,” you told him, making him blush. His eyes lazily danced across your face in bemusement.  “Now I'm gonna go change,”  you said. 

-

You returned in a black lingerie set – a lacy top over a strappy, crotchless bottom. You had tucked Frankie’s old pistol into the back of the bottom piece. The cool metal made your skin tighten with goosebumps all over. 

You slowly approached Tom and watched his eyes consume you. Without sitting down, you straddled him so you were standing with your tits in his face. You let him play. He nuzzled his head into your breasts, then nosed at a nipple. 

“Fuck me,” he whispered, then took one into his mouth, through the lace. 

“God, you worthless shit,” you laughed with faux affection. 

“Heh,” Tom chuckled sadly against your tit.

He didn’t notice you reach for the gun. You used the barrel to massage yourself through your underwear. He glanced down, then his eyes snapped back up to you. “Whoa, careful with that,” he laughed nervously with the barrel pointing right at his dick as you slid the cool metal against the lace covering your mound. 

“This is Frankie’s,” you said wistfully and raised the gun to admire it. You used the barrel to nudge his chin so he looked at you. He froze. “You’re gonna suck Frankie’s dick now,” you nodded and slid the barrel up his jaw, then nudged his lips with the muzzle. 

His breathing was heavier and faster. His eyes were less sleepy. 

He maneuvered to dodge the barrel. “Listen, sweetie,” he started. “Are you okay? Maybe we’ll just  — maybe. . .  watch a movie tonight,” his voice trailed off as your face made it clear you were not fucking around. 

“Open.” You grabbed his jaw. “It’s the least you can do, Tom.” 

Tom swallowed. “Okay,” he whispered. “You’re right.” He let the muzzle into his mouth. 

“Good,” you whispered. “Go on.”

You pushed the barrel further into his mouth. “Suck it, Tom. Suck Frankie’s cock.” 

His face whitened as he began to hesitantly bob his head. 

“If it weren’t for you, I’d be sucking Frankie’s real cock right now,” you reminded him and watched dread fall over his face. He hardly moved at all. 

“You can do better than that.” You pushed the gun further into his mouth and his teeth hit the metal. “Good,” you whispered as he took as much of the pistol as he could. You held the back of his head and fucked his mouth with the gun. He looked up at you pleadingly and whined incoherently. You mercifully let the barrel out of his mouth, a string of drool falling down his chin. 

“Look,” his face was serious and his tone was more sober. “I know you’re devastated. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. We can–” 

“Shut up.” You crossed your wrists behind his head and lowered yourself onto his lap. Your most sensitive area met his semi-hard bulge and you let out a moan. 

“Oh, Tom,” you sighed, impressed. 

As it turned out, there was one area where Tom didn't fall short, and your body wouldn't let you ignore it.  “Fuck,” you whispered as he hardened beneath you. You were throbbing against him. The adrenaline already had your blood flowing, and now it was flowing south. His cock twitched against you. His breath was shallow.

He watched your face carefully. He was as quiet and still as a mouse. 

“Got him killed, and now you wanna fuck his girl, don’t ya?”

Tom nodded hesitantly. 

You scoffed. “With friends like you,” you started. “Pathetic.”  A subtle lift of his hips took all your thoughts away as his warm, hard package rubbed against your front. You had never hate fucked someone before. . . With the gun still behind his head, you nudged the nape of his neck with the muzzle and he flinched. “You’re not gonna say a word,” you warned. Then you reached down between you and feverishly unbuttoned his cargo pants. 

You reached into his boxers and gasped at the smooth heat of his naked girth against your palm. “Jesus,” you whispered as you took it out. A hint of cockiness tugged at the corner of his mouth before he appeared to remember his imminent doom.

With your gun hand, you braced yourself using the back of his neck for leverage. You took your thong to the side, then spit on  your hand and wiped it on his dick. God how you hated this man. You lined yourself up, then sank down with a rush of pleasure to your chest as your cunt slowly swallowed his thick length. You closed your eyes and thought of Frankie as you began to roll your hips. Your heart was racing. 

He moaned nearly silently as you fucked yourself on his massive cock. You got wetter and wetter. You could feel Frankie’s presence. You could practically smell his scent wafting off of Tom. You could feel the ghost of Frankie’s hands on your ass and practically hear his whispers in your ear. Should’ve ridden his face, he said in your head and you breathed out a laugh as you rode him.

You let out a sigh and Tom shuddered. You imagined Frankie’s brown eyes looking deep into yours, and your walls twitched around Tom’s cock. You whimpered as you came. 

“Fuck,” Tom murmured through gritted teeth as you choked his cock.Then he erupted inside you. You groaned as his warm spend flooded your core. 

-

When you were finished, you sat there on his cock and you both read each other’s faces. He knew his time was up. You took the safety off the gun. 

“What a way to go,” Tom muttered in resignation. He winced as you squeezed him with an aftershock.

“You took him from me, Tom.” 

“I know, honey,” he agreed. “It’s okay. Kid's better off with the life insurance.” 

The next few seconds felt like minutes. Your heart raced and you could see Tom’s heartbeat in his neck. 

Tom took a deep breath. “Just put it in my mouth.” He nodded. “And pull the trigger,” he whispered. 

His gaze was apologetic as the muzzle once again nudged his lips. He closed his eyes with his softening cock still sheathed in your warmth.  You didn’t feel a thing as the hammer clicked under your thumb.

-----

-----

Thank you for reading!

my main masterlist

#triple frontier fanfiction #Tom Davis x reader #triple frontier smut #triple frontier write a thon #triple frontier anniversary #Tom “Redfly” Davis x reader #female reader #tw noncon #tw rape #tw violence #tw main character death #tw suicidal adjacent thinking #toxicanonymity ☠️ #dark reader #triplefrontier #triplefrontier2019 #dark!reader

[cursedconstellation]

I just had the absolutely diabolical thought-

After Cas died the last time, Dean just shut down. He wouldn't let Sam speak of him, he wouldn't let himself think of him, if he saw a man in a familiar trenchcoat, he'd just turn away. Any of Cas' belongings made it to an old shoe-box, stashed away so well it could only gather dust, intentionally forgotten. As far as Dean Winchester was concerned, Cas might have not existed at all.

Sam, of course, wouldn't leave it alone. Every once in a while he'd mention the angel fleetingly, only to be ignored. He tried being forward, cornering Dean and begging him to at least acknowledge a part of their life was missing. He tried being careful and gentle in his approach, trying to spot a hint of vulnerability in Dean, that momentary, blink-and-you-miss-it look in his eye when he'd hear his name. He tried to be casual, off-handedly say something to catch him off guard.

"Oh, I think this was Cas' favourite mug," off to the shoebox it went.

"Cas really liked this song," and coincidentally, he'd never hear it again.

"Cas would've loved that," and whatever 'that' was would never be mentioned again.

No matter what he said, as soon as Cas' name was uttered, Dean suddenly could not hear it. Even when it was left unspoken, as soon as it became clear who 'he' that Sam incessantly talked about was, it fell on deaf ears.

Months went by, and Sam would not give up, he'd never give up. However his attempts would become more sparse and he'd go weeks without even trying to say anything alluding to Cas. In fact, at a certain point, although he could not remember exactly when, he actively avoided the topic, just as Dean did. Some days he was too tired to confront the reality of his brother being severely unwell, and played into it, just to give himself a couple of days of false normalcy. Because Dean was 'fine'. He said so every time Sam dared to ask. So, some days Sam allowed everything to be just 'fine'.

It was one of those streaks, then. They'd have breakfast together and make a small talk, about anything and everything - as long as Cas wasn't mentioned. Dean would make a bad joke, and Sam would roll his eyes. They fell back into decades long routine, only occasionally broken by Sam, who would always end up coming back to the topic of the angel. He'd always try and catch Dean off-guard, even though he knew the outcome by heart by then. Dean would simply look away, the same, dark look over his eyes, and while he'd stand still, the same as before Sam said anything, he seemed miles away.

That day Sam didn't plan on saying anything. In fact, he himself forgot about it, caught in Dean's denial. It was truly easier that way, to just take Dean at face value, to ignore the fact everything he said, did, or perhaps even thought was a facade. The day itself wasn't remarkable in any way, either. It was as if the entire world adjusted to ignore the fact Cas ever existed in it.

They had their usual banter over breakfast, only to split up after finishing - Sam hid away with his laptop in hands, Dean would leave to work on Baby. In fact he worked on her so much, Sam wasn't sure there was anything left to improve. He never doubted that was in fact what Dean was doing, as he'd always hear banging and scraping of metal even through the walls. It was like that then, too. There was clanking, and music, and occasional roars of the engine. Yet-

At one point it stopped.

Sam only noticed it after a couple of minutes - the music still played, echoing through the bunker, but there was no other sound accompanying it. There was no delicate vibrations from tools being tossed onto the floor.

Perhaps it was his hunter instincts kicking in, or perhaps simple paranoia, but there was something unsettling about that silence.

Sam carefully put his computer away and followed the music up the stairs, listening in closely for any sound of distress, or even any sound at all, but Led Zeppelin blaring from the speaker drowned everything out. Once he reached the garage and the music barely sounded like any melody at all, with mild annoyance, he turned it off, for a moment relishing in the sudden silence.

Except- he heard heavy breathing, as if someone was gasping for air despite being locked in a place deprived of oxygen. It was loud, it was panicked, it was-

It was Dean. Dean, sitting with his back against the wall, knees pulled to his chest, tears streaming down his pale, clammy face. Before Sam could even move, Dean looked up at him, eyes wide and glistening, and he looked so terrified and helpless, for a moment it felt like he was just a scared kid, who saw something in the darkest corner of his room.

Between heavy, disorganised breaths, he managed to pant out,

"My ears keep ringing, and it sounds just like him."

#destiel #fanfiction #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #spn finale #im sorry #or youre welcome #depending on whether youre a masochist like yours truly #*casually drops the first fanfic adjacent post publically. be cool. stay cool. its fine.* #i dont know if its the greatest thing i ever wrote or absolute shit #art is subjective ig #i know this ship has sinked and drowned everyone in it but if i had to think about it so do you

[ibrithir-was-here]

So!! Currently redrawing "The Solider and the Solicitor", and just published the first chapter on Webtoon, which happens to be a brand new chapter not seen in the OG comic! So give it a look if you like!

#my art #the solider and the solicitor #Quincey Harker #jonathan harker #dracula #dracula fanart #dracula fanfiction #webtoon #web comics #dracula daily #adjacent anyway

[bambiraptorx]

@thedawningofthehour mentioned on this post that the turtles would pretend Draxum kidnapped them, and honestly? they totally would.

Featuring an oc that I really need to find a name for because I'm planning on drawing her more.

#rottmnt #rottmnt au #minor interference au #rottmnt baron draxum #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt oc #donatello hamato #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt fanfiction #my art #naming characters is so hard and for no reason #like i know the vibe i'm going for: kinda old fashioned and maybe weird sounding? like idk Mildred or something #except not mildred that's not quite it #but some kind of granny-sounding name #mildred adjacent if you will #anyway the funniest part of this post (at least to me) is i do actually have a fic where draxum kidnaps all four turtles lol

[lorilane33]

Midnight Musings

Pairing: Echo x Reader

A/N: I think I should start a bingo card for myself with all this fandom hopping I'm doing lol Star Wars is my current hyper fixation, and one special copy paste boy had my soul in his hands.

Summary: You wake up to find Echo not in bed.

Word Count: 1,098

Warnings: This is truly the saddest thing I've ever written, which isn't saying much. But Echo has been to hell and back, and he needs all the hugs in the entire universe. So this was my self indulgent self doing just that.

In a quiet bungalow somewhere on lower Pabu, something suddenly pulls you from the pleasant dream you were having. In the bed you share with Echo, something didn’t feel quite right, but you couldn’t place what it was.

You huff, mildly annoyed at the inconvenience of being pulled from sleep and snuggle deeper into the blankets in hopes of finding sleep again. 

You sleepily reach behind you in hopes of Echo being able to hold you until you fall asleep again, only to find the sheets cold. “...Echo?” you mumble, sleep thick in your voice. Less sleepy than you were mere seconds ago, you now understand what had pulled you from your sleep. 

Your boyfriend was not where he needed to be, and you had a feeling you knew just where to find him. Pushing the covers off yourself, you swing your feet over the edge, sliding until your feet gently hit the floor. 

You start your journey out of your shared bedroom and into the living space, leaning against the doorway. Looking around for his familiar bald head, you find him sitting at the table, head resting in his good hand.

From what you can see, he’s glaring down at his scomp link that rests in his lap. “Honey, are you alright?” you whisper. Some nights Echo had a hard time with nightmares or sometimes it was his survivor’s guilt that did him in. 

In the light of the moon, Echo looks up at you, a shimmer of regret in his eyes as he responds, “I’m sorry, cyare. Did I wake you? I didn’t mean to.” A sad smile lifts at the corner of your mouth as you pad towards him. 

“It’s okay, really Echo. I woke up and you were gone so I thought I’d come find you.” Reaching the table, you place your hands on his shoulders to gently pull him back into a sitting position. “What was it this time, my love? A nightmare again?” 

He sighs and reaches his hand up to hold yours that sits on his shoulder, then shakes his head no. “No, mesh’la. Not this time.” 

Leaning forward you place a kiss to the top of his head. “Then if not a nightmare, what is keeping you awake at this hour, hmm? And if you think of fibbing to me and saying it’s nothing, then you will indeed have another problem to reckon with,” you respond, almost whispering the words into the top of his head where your lips remain. 

You hear him chuckle tiredly at your sass, the sound of his laughter lifting your spirits a little. Breaking the hold of his hand on yours, you slide your hands over his torso, stopping at the chest plate that sits atop his sternum. You feel him sigh, simultaneously in relief and in resignation at your touch. 

“Alright, fine.” The low cadence of his voice soothes you, as you hold him from behind. He reaches his good hand back up to lay over yours again, and you smile into his neck as he answers your question. 

“Cyare, it’s just…I don’t…,” he sighs, struggling putting his feelings into words. “I miss Fives, so kriffing much. The rest of the Domino Squad too, but Fives and I were brothers by choice. The two of us had been together since Kamino. Having to carry on now? Knowing he doesn’t get to? It hurts.”

You feel him shudder in your arms as speaking becomes too much for him, your arms instinctively pulling him closer into your arms. Heart breaking for this beautiful man, you softly respond, “I know you wish you could bring them back, and if it were possible, I’d do it for you in a second.” 

Stepping back, you keep one of your hands clasped tightly in his as you slowly slip around his shoulder to face him. Dropping to your knees, you reach up to caress his face with your free hand. When a tear falls from his amber eyes, you lightly brush it away with a swipe of your thumb. 

You squeeze his hand before continuing, “But I do know that wherever they are, they are so kriffing proud of you, Echo. You may have the scars and some metal parts to contend with now, but you survived. And are all the stronger for it. Your resilience and quiet strength are a couple of the millions of reasons why I have fallen in love with you.” 

A small smile graces your lips as you drop his good hand and gently pick up his scomp link still sitting in his lap. “This old scomp link? Is proof to me every day that you survived and are here with me. I wouldn’t trade that for anything, Echo. And if you need me to remind you every kriffing day that I love you, and that I’m not going anywhere, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.” Lifting it to your lips, you place a gentle kiss against his scomp while retaining eye contact with him. 

His bottom lip quivers, and his eyes blink slowly. You can see the emotions churning below the surface of his beautiful face. Then, you are suddenly yanked up into his lap and into his embrace as he holds you close. 

You place one arm around his neck, pulling yourself level with him. His response is a rumble of emotion, “Thank you, my love. You always know exactly what to say to me to make me feel better. I’m sorry you have to-”

“Ah!” you suddenly place a hand over his mouth. “If I hear another apology out of your mouth, good sir, then I'll have to punch you. And I’d really hate to have to do that, Echo.” A grin breaks out on your face, as you make eye contact with him. 

He looks emotionally drained, but graces you with one of his genuine smiles as you lean forward and place a kiss against his headset. As soon as you move your head away from him, you feel him turn his head and pull you in to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“You’re not wrong, cyar’ika. I’d hate to have you get violent. Your punches hurt.” He chuckles, and you feel it tingle on your lips. “And for the record? I love you too. Thank you for being so understanding.”

He kisses you again, pulling you close. The two of you continue to sit in the quiet of the kitchen, trading kisses and soft words until the sky outside turns gray; a new day on the horizon.

#echo x reader #tbb echo #tbb echo x reader #arc trooper echo #tbb echo angst #tbb echo fluff adjacent? #echo tbb #echo tbb fluff #ish #the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb #star wars #bad batch echo

[ktwritesstuff]

First Comes Love (a Last of Us fanfic)

Title: First Comes Love Fandom: The Last of Us (no-pocalypse AU) Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Joel Miller x plus size!Reader Word Count: ~1,600 Summary: A rare night alone with Joel. Beta-read by the incomparable @bs-fangirl. Additional content notes below the cut.

Part 2 posted 9/1

A/N: At last I have returned to my roots: all your faves want to fuck fat girls. It is, sadly, the early 2000s (no shroompocalypse) so the reader character having history of experiencing anti-fatness seemed unavoidable, so TW for a brief mention. Other than some light breeding kink we have mostly fluffy cuteness. Enjoy!

Austin, TX. 2004

Joel wanted to go out for dinner, but you convinced him to stay in.  It was rare for you to have a night alone--Sarah was at a sleepover--and you didn't want to waste a minute.  Some folks might have considered Sarah a complication.  Dating a single father of a teenaged, mixed-race daughter wasn’t without its challenges (not the least of which was bending over backwards to arrange date night) but the truth was, Sarah was the only reason you had given him a chance.

Joel was a good looking guy–a real man’s man–so much so that at first you hadn’t trusted his interest in you. You thought, perhaps, he learned to set his sights a little lower as a single dad.  That the caliber of women he was used to–women like Sarah’s mother, no doubt–wouldn’t give him a second look once they found out he was raising his little girl alone.  You had spent a lifetime being told that you were undesirable because of your size, but Joel never made you feel undesired. 

Joel picked you up after work.  You grabbed burgers and shakes at the Creamery and ate in the truck on the way back to Joel’s.  He kissed you playfully as you came through the front door, blowing raspberries on your throat and behind your ear until you screamed with laughter as you fell into bed together.  

Joel unbuttoned your blouse slowly, one loop at a time, kissing his way down your breasts.  Working his way down your body, he lingered longer to adore the rolls and folds of your stomach with his mouth and fingertips.  It used to make you self-conscious, but you had since come to enjoy the loving attention he gave the largest part of your body.  He opened your jeans and slipped one hand into your panties.  Two fingers slid through your folds, stroking up and down against your clit.

“So good.”  His breath felt warm against your skin.  “So wet for me.”

You leaned back, pressing your head into his pillow with a content sigh.  It smelled like Tide and Irish Spring and the clean sweat that was unmistakably Joel.   

You whined a little as he paused his ministrations and rested his head on the soft pouch below your navel, his beard tickling the delicate skin.     

“Watcha doing?” You grinned, running your fingers through his curls.

“Thinking,” Joel sighed as his fingers traced spirals on the lowest part of your belly.

“About what?”

“Putting a baby in here,” Joel’s chocolate-brown eyes glanced up at you.  “Is that okay?”

“Yes.”  

The answer spilled out of you before you even had time to think.  You had assumed Joel didn’t want any more kids, he was so devoted to Sarah.  It was one of the things you loved most about him.  You never felt like you needed a child of your own to be a family.  But the idea of Joel wanting another baby was so delightfully surprising; you relished the idea of raising little chunky-thighed peanuts with huge brown eyes and dark curls. 

“Really?” Joel grinned.

You nodded.

“Good,” Joel said, snaking his way back up your body to kiss your throat.  “Because I can’t wait to fuck my babies into you.”

You pulled the back of Joel’s t-shirt up over his head and he shucked it off in a hurry to slide his hand back down your pants, fingers stroking through your increasingly damp folds.  He kissed you like he was swimming through your mouth, coming up for sips of air between long, confident strokes.  You reached down to grope him through his pants.

“Gonna love watching your belly grow,” he whispered, low and husky with desire.  “Knowing it’s my baby in there, warm and safe, enjoying that nice squishy water bed.”

You felt giddy at his sudden confession.  Joel was far from an inattentive lover, but he wasn’t usually this talkative.  You could tell he was enjoying the fantasy and frankly, so were you, spreading your legs a little wider as he stroked you lazily.

“Keep going.”

“I’ll read to the baby and sing to them, so they get to know daddy’s voice. Gonna take such good care of you, too.” Joel dipped two fingers inside you, curling them up around the curve of your pelvis.  “Rub your feet when you’re tired and get you ice cream in the middle of the night.”

You ran your hands over Joel’s chest and back, feeling the hard muscles under a thin layer of padding.  Not vanity muscles, Joel had the body of a man who worked with his hands–strong, useful.

“What else?”

“Your tits are gonna be fucking huge.”  Joel drew both hands up to knead your breasts.  “Getting ready to feed our baby.  I’d suck them for you…If you wanted.”  

You almost laughed out loud, but you would hate to embarrass him after he had opened up to you.  

“You can,” you assured him.

Joel shifted his weight back, bowing his head to your breasts, sealing his mouth over one nipple, pressing down with the flat of his tongue.  

You knew you had a good one, but hearing Joel’s secret fantasies spilling was so endearing, that what he wanted most were all the things he hadn’t gotten to experience with Sarah.  You had never been desperate for children of your own, but now anything else was unthinkable. 

“I want to have your babies, Joel.”  

“Yeah?”  Joel looked up at you, bright eyed and flushed.

“A whole gaggle of them,” you said, taking his face in your hands.  

“Shit, that’s hot,” Joel chuckled, dipping his head to work the beginnings of a hickey into the crook of your neck.  “You’re so fucking sexy right now.”

“Careful,” you warned.  “We’re not teenagers anymore.”

You suspected Sarah was well-aware her father was no celebate monk, but there was no need to publicly embarrass the poor girl.  You wanted desperately to stay on her good side–she and Joel had a special relationship.

“If we had met when we were teenagers, we’d have a whole damn baseball team by now,” Joel said.

You rolled your eyes at his attempt at flattery.  You knew damn well the high school version of Joel would never have given your bespectacled and brace-faced younger self a second glance.

“Thank God for small mercies,” you teased. 

“You ready for me?” Joel asked, sitting up to retrieve a condom and lube from the bedside table.  You had barely touched him, and he was rock-hard, straining through his blue jeans.

You nodded, shimmying your pants down and kicking them off from around your ankles.  

Joel rolled on the condom and moved over you, lining the tip of his cock up at your entrance before pressing in slow and careful, stretching you open a little at a time.  

“How’s that?” he asked, bottoming out inside you.

“Feels good.”  You hitched your knees up around his waist, letting him press in deeper as you traced the triangles of muscle in his shoulders.

Joel kept most of his weight in his hips as he rocked into you.  A few short, quick thrusts followed by long, slow strokes.  He reached one hand between your bodies to massage your clit, sending sparkles of pleasure through your belly.

“Shit, that’s good.”  Your toes curled, muscles clenching and releasing as Joel fucked you through the climax. You tugged his hair and pressed your mouth over the exposed vein pulsing in his throat to keep from crying out.  

“Don’t stop.” You grabbed his ass with your other hand, your nails leaving crescent-moon indents in the plump flesh.

“I’m fucking close,” Joel laughed, brushing one hand over your sweat-damp hair.  

“Want you to come for me,” you panted between strokes.  “Come inside me.”

“Fuck!” Joel shuddered, collapsing onto you. 

You chuckled, still enjoying the ripples of your orgasm.  

“Shit,” Joel rallied.  “You need anything?”

“I’m golden,” you said with a smile as he kissed you.  

Joel held the base of the condom as he withdrew from you.  He rose from the bed and went to the bathroom to dispose of it.  You almost felt sorry for the unlucky little swimmers—they must have been so confused. No egg today, but hopefully one day soon…

“You know,” you called to him, adjusting your pillows.  “If you really want a baby, there’s only one thing you have to do.”

As Joel emerged from the bathroom, you held your left hand out to him, wiggling your fingers.           

Joel chuckled, crossing the room.  He opened his dresser drawer and returned to the bed with a small velvet box.  You gasped, hand flying to your mouth.

You had suspected Joel was thinking about proposing for some time now, when Sarah had not so subtly asked to “borrow” one of your rings for her Spring Fling dance. You had dropped your fair share of hints as well, browsing bridal magazines in the grocery checkout line and remarking which of Country Radio’s Top 10 would make a good first dance.   

Evidently Joel had reached the limit of his endurance. 

"Sarah found it while she was snooping," he explained.  "I was going to take you out for a nice dinner, get down on one knee–”

You opened the box, to find a perfect, tiny diamond on a simple gold band.  

Joel cleared his throat as he sat down beside you in bed.  “I know it’s small–”

“Shut up,” you snapped, slipping the ring on your finger.  “It’s beautiful!”

You laid back in bed, holding out your hand to admire the ring, glittering in the sunset light.  Joel draped his arm around you and you curled into his side.  

“I’m assuming because you put it on, that’s a yes,” he joked. 

“It’s a yes,” you agreed, kissing him.  

“We can tell Sarah tomorrow,” he said.  “I’ll pick her up before breakfast.”

“I’ll make pancakes,” you agreed.

“I don’t like pancakes,” Joel said.

You rubbed your nose against his playfully.  “Sarah does.”  

#the last of us fanfiction #last of us au #joel miller x reader #joel miller x plus size reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal #troy baker adjacent #tlou smut #joel miller smut

[fandom-hoarder]

A Bibro's

Sastiel Rec List

-for the canon-adjacent connoisseur-

1. Pagan by posingasme

Gen | Rating: Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 17, 782 | Chapters: 8/8

Tags: Blasphemy, Idol Worship, Fallen Castiel, Priest Sam, Hunterverse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Canon-Typical Violence

Summary: Castiel has fallen, too soon. Madness and desperation plague him, but, as always, his heart is still in the right place...with Sam Winchester.

🔆

2. Run Right; or Lie by orphan_account

Gen, M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 5,197 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: AU, Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Pre-Slash

Summary: AU in which Dean died during Faith, the first seal was broken in season one, and Sam met Castiel when his faith was as strong as ever.

🔆

3. Kneel Before the Lord Our Maker by EnInkahootz

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 3,000 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Supernatural Kink Bingo 2021, Porn, Smut, Blasphemy, Angels, Angel Kink, Religion, Religion Kink, Angel Wings, Wings, Flying, Clouds, Cock Worship, Dom/sub, Sub Sam Winchester, Dom Castiel, Dom Castiel/Sub Sam Winchester, Dreams, Blow Jobs, Post-Episode: s04e07 It's the Great Pumpkin Sam Winchester

Summary: After first meeting Castiel and being disappointed in It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester (Season 4, Episode 7), Sam has a dream about Castiel being the classic sort of angel he had expected to meet. Sam dreams of using his mouth to worship Castiel's holy cock, which Sam sees as an extension of god.

🔆

4. What This Is About by MissMisdemeanor

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 3,147 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Top Castiel/Bottom Sam Winchester, Riding, Sweat, Hook-Up, Secret Relationship, Canon Compliant, canon adjacent?, Making Out, Early season 5 Supernatural

Summary: “This is something you’ve wanted before today,” Cas states, and it’s true. He’s not sure if Cas even had to read his soul to get at that.

Sam’s breath stops. He freezes momentarily. “Yeah,” he admits. “Shit, Cas, yeah. I’d have done this the day we met.”

🔆

5. A First Grasp by Fae-and-night (goodgirlgonegeek16)

M/M | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,034 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Season 5 angst, Episode: s05e03 Free to Be You and Me, or at least the sastiel alternate ending to that episode.

Summary: Sastiel-flavored coda for “Free to be You and Me” with some early seasons bamf!castiel.

🔆

6. My Sastiel Valentine by rosworms

M/M | Rating: Mature | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 3,371 | Chapters: 3/3

Tags: Episode: s05e14 My Bloody Valentine, Slash, NSFW, Sastiel - Freeform, Sam/Cas - Freeform

Summary: A very slight AU of the episode 'My Bloody Valentine' where Sam is affected by famine in a different way.

🔆 55 more fics, in relatively chronological order, below the cut 🔆

7. Boy in the White Suit by posingasme

Gen, M/M | Mature | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Words: 13,460 | Chapters: 7/7

Tags: Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Post-Apocalypse, Dark Sam Winchester, Insanity, Alice in Wonderland References, Blasphemy, Self-Destruction, Madness

Summary: Sam said no. Dean said yes. Sam lost his mind. Castiel lost his friends. That’s the road so far.

🔆

8. A More Profound Bond by confxsed

Gen, M/M | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 5,824 | Chapters: 5/5

Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel, Hurt Sam Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Angst, Season/Series 05, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Mentions of Suicide, Pre-Slash

Summary: Five little moments where Dean notices the relationship between Sam and Castiel growing.

🔆

9. some space underneath my skin by hellsreluctantheir

Part 1 of touch -- The soulless Sam and Cas were fucking verse.

M/M | Rating: Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 23,607 | Chapters: 8/8

Tags: Soulless!Sam, Season/Series 06

Summary: Humans liked to touch each other in ways that baffled Castiel. Not just in the manner they slyly referred to as biblically. He watched them clap hands onto shoulders and backs, lean into each other in exhaustion, sleep sitting up with feet resting against each other on the floor. A constant, reverberating, nonverbal hymn. I am here. You are here. We are here, and we are alive. Angels did not need that kind of reassurance. Castiel could hear his siblings' songs no matter how near he was to them physically. Prayers and psalms in the back of his mind. It saddened him, somewhat, to think that humanity would never know that.

🔆

10. The Unexpected by muzivitch

M/M | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,253 Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Sam and Castiel discuss his missing year. Also, Sam has a crush that would be obvious to anyone but Castiel (except it might even be obvious to him, after all). Takes place after 6.12 "Like A Virgin."

🔆

11. Doing Just Fine by masterlynovak

M/M, Multi | Rating: Explicit | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 1,069 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: idk it's a threesome but not really?, Dean is just watching Sam and Cas have sex, voyerism

Summary: Dean wakes up in a room with a naked Sam spread out on the bed.

🔆

12. Wings by Rowan203

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 1,415 Chapters: 1/1

Summary: AU after season 6. Sam comes back from the cage broken and changed. Dean and Castiel deal with it in different ways.

🔆

13. Between the Shadow and the Soul by Vee (Vera_DragonMuse)

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 6,456 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Poetry, hell is the absence of love, take shelter in me, castiel thinks sam is the wolf, sam thinks castiel is in another story, really they're both just lost in the fog

Summary: What if Sam was the one that went to Purgatory with Castiel?

🔆

14. The Sun Pale as Milk by Icanseenow

M/M | Rating: Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 39,879 Chapters: 21/21

Tags: POV Sam Winchester, Season/Series 08, Purgatory, Post-Purgatory, Slow Burn, Nearly Human Castiel, Post-Season/Series 07

Summary: Instead of Dean, Castiel is the one to return from Purgatory first. He finds Sam, and together they spend a year. Looking for Dean and not looking for Dean.

🔆

15. a body of proof by lordofsoup

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Words: 21,525 | Chapters: 5/5

Tags: Angelic Possession, Consensual Possession, basically possession (romantic), Trials of Hell, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma From Lucifer's Cage, Sam Winchester Has an Eating Disorder, a minor point but i wanted to mention it, references to honey!cas, Developing Relationship, Romantic Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Body, includes art!! [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: Sam's sickness worsens after the second trial, resulting in him being rushed to the hospital, the extensive damage has left Sam drained of his fight. To continue with the trials Sam must allow Castiel to heal him, by possessing him. While having an alien home under his skin is nothing new for Sam, Castiel's constant presence unwittingly unburies a host of issues. Two people desperate for forgiveness in the same body should get crowded at times but between the nightmares, the sickness, and the blood; there are some cookies, a quiet beach on the coast of Oregon, and a chance at something new between them.

🔆

16. ficlet - sastiel, a/b/o dynamics by wrenseroticlibrary_archivist

[also on tumblr]

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 580 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Post-Season/Series 08, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fallen Angel Castiel, Mating Cycles/In Heat, First Time, Porn, Ficlet, Alpha Castiel, Omega Sam Winchester

Summary: When Castiel had Fallen, he’d clearly become an alpha.

🔆

17. Stay in Touch by Cuda (Scylla)

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 6,310 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Post-Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, Missing Scene, Human Castiel, Newly Human Castiel, Love Confessions, Not Actually Unrequited Love, First Kiss, First Time, Masturbation, Sexually Inexperienced Castiel, Castiel and Sam Winchester in Love, Sastiel - Freeform

Summary: Concerned about newly-human Castiel's decision to leave the Bunker on his own, Sam sets out for Idaho to find his best friend - and get some answers for himself.

🔆

18. Angels and Answers by klove0511

Part 1 of Milestones 'verse

M/M | Rating: Explicit | Rape/Non-Con | Words: 15,190 Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Possessed Sam Winchester, Memory Alteration, Human Castiel, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, First Time Blow Jobs, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Sam Winchester Has Self-Esteem Issues, Castiel Has Self-Esteem Issues, Alternate Season/Series 09, Winchester communication skills

Summary: Cas has discovered his sexuality as a human when the Winchesters bring him to the bunker, and he and Sam fall into bed together. When Gadreel forces Dean to drive Cas away, the two must find their way back to each other, freeing Sam from Gadreel in the process.

🔆

19. So polite by bloodandcream

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,174 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Season 9, Angst, Sam topping from the bottom, Erectile Dysfunction

Summary: “Please,” was whispered into his mouth. So polite. Sam was in control here.

🔆

20. Had Worse by posingasme

Gen, M/M | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 3,687 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Bunker Fic, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Sam has a very high threshold for pain, and an iron will. So this current hunting injury, even with its weird attack on his view of reality, is nothing compared to what he has been through in the past. He’s had worse. But that does nothing to reassure those who love him.

🔆

21. I'm always dragging that horse around by Trojie

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 5,499 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Unrequited Wincest, Unrequited Destiel, Enochian, Phobias, Hell Trauma, Season/Series 09, Episode: s09e11 First Born, Angel Healing, Implied Wincestiel, Hopeful Ending

Summary: Sam has a horror of angels and Cas has a compulsion to heal. It doesn't help that they speak the same languages, or that Dean is elsewhere - somehow he's always between them, and somehow they still have to meet in the middle.

🔆

22. The Best Medicine by sarasaurusrex

Multi | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,247 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Comfort, Fluff, Depressed Sam Winchester, Season/Series 09, Misunderstandings, Castiel Takes Care of Sam Winchester, Established Castiel/Sam Winchester, Domestic Fluff

Summary: Castiel confuses Sam’s symptoms of depression with symptoms of the flu and tries to help. Set mid season 9.

🔆

23. anything you need, that's what i'll be by starlightswait

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,092 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Dissociation, Bodily Autonomy, Season/Series 09, Aftermath of Possession, Post-Episode: s09e11 First Born, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, Food Issues

Summary: There is a strange discomfort in healing Sam in the days that follow Dean’s departure.

🔆

24. muscle memory by hellsreluctantheir

Part 2 of touch - Sam's POV s7 - s9

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 5,830 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Season/Series 07, Season/Series 09

Summary: Sam lost his soul, slept with an angel, got his soul back, lost his memory, and then lost his mind before they could have a conversation about it. It's fine. The Hell trauma is gone, and he's coping. Even when Castiel comes back, he'll continue to cope.

🔆

25. Divine by Matthew1972

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 8,120 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: POV Sam Winchester, Protective Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Kissing, First Time, Porn with Feelings, Anal Sex, Bottom Sam Winchester, Top Castiel, Bottoming from the Top, Angelic Grace Play, Angel Wings, Morning Sex, Oral Sex

Summary: Coda/AU scene to episode S09E11, First Born. "But nothing is worth losing you", Castiel shows that what he said was something he meant. Held safe in his arms and wings Sam learns the stunning truth about 'his' angel. How he heals the pain inside of him with something more than trust, care and touch.

🔆

26. Even If We Can't Find Heaven by ellerkay

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 8,044 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Having Faith, Loss of Faith, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Pining

Summary: Sam finds his faith and loses it and finds it again, albeit in a very different form. A Sastiel love story and exploration of Sam’s faith and spirituality. [Note: prayer during sex🙏]

🔆

27. Table For Two by the_diving_fox

M/M | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,775 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: somewhere in s9, Human Castiel, valentine's day fic, POV Outsider

Summary: A tired waitress at Ann's Diner happens to serve Sam and Castiel amidst all the other obnoxious Valentine's Day couples. Sam and Castiel manage to surprise her, though.

🔆

28. Two Beat Up Humans by PacJazz

M/M, Multi | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 3,863 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Fluff and Angst, Pre-Slash, PTSD, Post-Gadreel, Human!Castiel, Hurt Sam Winchester, Post-trials with no angel healing hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 09, Nightmares, Domestic Fluff, Hair Brushing, Insomnia, No Smut, Enochian-Speaking Sam Winchester, Sleepiness, Literal Sleeping Together [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: Both broken, yet eager to help the other heal.... Sam and Cas are living in the bunker now, sans-dean after the gadreel betrayal. Cas is newly Human now, and while he needs some help learning the intricacies of that, Sam needs some help healing. They both share things, and think through what they've lost. *In slight AU where post-gadreel Sam is living in the bunker with newly human Castiel*

🔆

29. A Crucifixion Without A Christ by angelshotgun

M/M | Rating: Explicit | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con | Words: 18,501 | Chapters: 10/10

Tags: Angelic Possession, Castiel's Angelic Grace, Major Character Injury, Hurt Sam Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hell Trauma, Sam Winchester is Loved, Hurt Castiel, Guilty Castiel, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, voicemail fixit, Post-Gadreel, Trust Issues, Sam Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Happy Ending, Schmoop, Hunter Retirement [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: When Sam Winchester is badly injured on a hunt, Cas has to possess him to keep him alive and help him heal. And though Sam agreed to let him in, Cas is acutely aware of how many times Sam has had his bodily autonomy taken away from him, and how much Cas himself has contributed to Sam's pain. And now that he's inside Sam's head? Well, he tries to be as unobtrusive as possible, but Sam is just... traumatized. And hurting. Maybe, he thinks, maybe this is his chance to put aside his own feelings for Sam to help heal the hurts he had a hand in creating?

🔆

30. Moments of Madness by orphan_account

M/M | Rating: Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,140 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Season/Series 10, ish, Canon Compliant, Enochian-Speaking Sam Winchester, Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma From Lucifer's Cage, Protective Dean Winchester, Castiel Loves Sam Winchester, Kissing, Fluff

Summary: It just happens, the first time. Dean's a Demon, and Sam's so alone. The next times?

🔆

31. Blankets by mako_lies (wingeddserpent)

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,212 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Episode: s10e01 Black, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt Castiel

Summary: Sam and Cas try to take care of one another.

🔆

32. Situational Failure (The Chicken Soup Remix) by StripySock

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 2,540 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Season/Series 10, Remix, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt Castiel, Sickfic, Frottage

Summary: There is a fear in Cas that if he lets Sam make himself at home in all of the places that Dean had declined to fill, he will lose the ability to ever refuse it again.  Or: Sam is sick, Cas is failing, and Dean is nowhere to be found. [implied unrequited destiel]

🔆

33. Feathers Falling by posingasme

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 13,144 | Chapters: 6/6

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angel Wings, Castiel in the Bunker, Permanent Injury, Protective Sam Winchester, Hurt Castiel, Fever, Delirium, Castiel & Charlie Bradbury Friendship, Alternate Canon, Season/Series 10, Angst [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: Castiel has been hurt, but he won't reveal how bad it is. Sam distracts him from the pain by reading him classic love stories, and Cas just doesn’t think any of them depict a love as strong as theirs.

🔆

34. Since When Does Sam Have PLANS? by Fae-and-night (goodgirlgonegeek16)

Gen | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 343 | Chapters: 1/1

Summary: "Dean’s POV on Sastiel, late seasons Sastiel, the ‘mistaken for a couple’ trope.

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35. Keep You from the Gallows Pole by Fallynleaf

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 7,337 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Alternate Season/Series 10 Finale, Mark of Cain Cure, Charlie Lives, Implied Unrequited Destiel, Implied Unrequited Wincest, Implied Wincestiel, Asexual Relationship [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: Season 10, if it were the love story of Sam and Cas.

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36. Episode 199.5 by posingasme

Part 1 of Before 200...

Gen, M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Words: 56,473 | Chapters: 20/20

Tags: Mark of Cain, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Stolen Grace, Protective Dean Winchester, Demon Blood, BAMF Castiel, Sam Winchester on Demon Blood, Alternate Angel Lore, Canon-Typical Violence, Torture, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Guilt

Summary: Dean is dealing with guilt, and fear of losing control to the Mark again. Castiel has new Grace, but eventually, it will burn out just as before. Sam just wants a fresh start all around. Life in the bunker is getting a bit...crowded. Memories and tempers are boiling over, along with something that has been heating up for a long time. Things get nasty when an old foe comes for Sam, and it's all hands on deck.

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37. Wingman by posingasme

Part 2 of Before 200...

Gen, M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Words: 65,222 | Chapters: 21/21

Tags: Spoilers, Mark of Cain, Dreams and Nightmares, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Psychological Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Destructive Dean Winchester

Summary: Now that Sam and Castiel have been honest with one another, and Dean has given his blessing, the two are forced into the awkward stage of figuring out where to go from here. Dean is still battling against the Mark, and his anxiety manifests in various ways, some of which are healthier than others.

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38. Sentimental Iterations by fabella

M/M | Rating: Explicit | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 33,370 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Future Fic, Season/Series 11, Season/Series 10, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Betrayal, Deception, Winchester Style Death (Not Typical Death), Semi Curtain Fic, Resolved Sexual Tension, Anal Sex, Rimming, Bottom Sam, Oral Sex, Sam is a big damn hero, Castiel-centric, Human Castiel, Big Brother Dean, Angst, Hurt Sam Winchester, Mental Instability, Sacrifice, Brother Feels, Grief/Mourning [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: Castiel learned everything he knows about devotion from the Winchesters. In this peaceful future built on the back of Sam Winchester’s most recent sacrifice, Castiel discovers that death itself can be overcome. If he’s willing to pay the price. [Notes: Set after season 10. An entirely different take on season 11.]

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39. Sam's Room by NobleHouseOfBlack

M/M | Rating: Not Rated | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,864 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: No Dialogue, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Platonic Cuddling, Feel-good

Summary: Sam's room in the bunker didn't seem like his room. He slept there occasionally but there was nothing that would indicate he lived there.

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40. The Devil’s Gonna Let On That You’re In The Details by sahwen

M/M | Rating: Not Rated | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 3,055 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lucifer Possessing Castiel, Post-Episode: s11e10 The Devil in the Details, Episode: s11e14 The Vessel, Post-Episode: s11e14 The Vessel, Season/Series 12, this fic spans across a lot of time, Hook-Up, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Trauma, Protective Dean Winchester, Supportive Dean, Post-Possession

Summary: Sam and Cas have been hooking up casually for a while when something feels off to Sam. He’s sure it’s just his mind playing tricks on him.

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41. Loved by the Devil, loved by an angel by N_13

Part 1 of Of this damned reality

M/M | Rating: Mature | Rape/Non-Con | Words: 3,076 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Rape/Non-con Elements, Abusive Relationships, Angst, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, everybody needs a hug, and therapy, Hurt/very little comfort, Unhealthy Relationships, No really every relationship in this is fucked up on some level, Hurt Sam Winchester, Season/Series 11, Lucifer Possessing Castiel, Enochian-Speaking Sam Winchester

Summary: Cas has loved Sam for quite some time. Then he said yes to Lucifer and everything went to hell.

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42. Heartbreak is Savvy and Love is a Bitch by Cuda (Scylla)

M/M | Rating: Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 2,405 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Lapdance, Light Dom/sub, Dom Castiel, Sub Sam Winchester, Sensation Play, Post-Episode: s11e14 The Vessel, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sam Winchester Deserves to be Happy, Safewords, Sam Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Sam Winchester is Bad at Self Care, Castiel's not the most experienced dom, Established Relationship, Light Angst [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: Castiel and Sam work on some fractures in their relationship. A gentle attempt at sensory play goes awry, leaving them scrambling to ratchet things back up to normal. Part of the 2020 Supernatural Kink Bingo.

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43. Thirty Years too Late by hyperbolicfae

Gen, M/M, Other | Rating: Teen+ | Rape/Non-Con | Words: 2,770 | Chapters: 2/2

Tags: Hurt Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel, Aftermath of Torture, Implied Mind Rape, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Protective Mary Winchester

Summary: Mary Winchester has rescued her son. She’s just thirty years too late. Or: The aftermath of Sam’s rescue from the British Men of Letters

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44. whore of babylon by angelszn (artbabe)

M/M | Rating: Mature | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 2,465 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Infidelity, Movie Night, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Floor Sex, Non-Penetrative Sex, Drinking, Dubious Consent, Past Rape/Non-con, Guilt, Gift Exchange [contains background destiel]

Summary: “Dean is a good man, and I love him. But sometimes, I…” Cas licks his lips. “Sam, I’m afraid.” Sam should leave. He should walk away. He should run. But his body is heavy and wine-drunk, his head spins at what Cas might be hinting at. “What are you afraid of?”

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45. The One You're With by gracerene

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 5,397 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Unrequited Wincest, Unrequited Sastiel, Platonic Sex, Friendship, Sexually Inexperienced Castiel, Fuck Or Die, Curses, Frottage, POV Sam Winchester, Season/Series 12, Hung Sam Winchester, Present Tense

Summary: Sam knows better than to touch anything in the bunker that looks even the slightest bit suspicious. And yet…

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46. Wins & Losses by Threshie

M/M, Multi | Rating: Teen+ | Major Character Death | Words: 17,384 | Chapters: 8/8

Tags: Temporarily Dead Castiel, Heartbroken Sam Winchester, Comforting Dean Winchester, Sharing a Bed, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sastiel, Wincest, Wincestiel, Poly Vee With Sam Pivot, Cuddling & Snuggling, Men of Letters Bunker, Angst with a Happy Ending, Touchy-Feely, Grieving Sam Winchester, Idiots in Love [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: A few months after Sam and Castiel start dating, the angel is killed. Still reeling from the loss of his best friend, Dean can’t just sit and watch Sam’s heartbreak slowly pull him away, too.

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47. Now I am here by Matthew1972

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 13,728 | Chapters: 5/5

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Asexual Relationship, Literal Sleeping Together, Sharing a Bed, Feelings Realization, Hugs, Boys Kissing, Case Fic, Monster Hunters, Crime Scenes, Angst, Blood, Hurt, Pagan Gods, Magic

Summary: Castiel and Sam have come to another nameless town to free it from the claws of a dark and ancient power. As they work the case their friendship grows stronger, changing into something more or does it? This, here, now… brings the confirmation they each needed.

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48. Something Good by posingasme

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 5,876 | Chapters: 4/4

Tags: Food Issues, showtunes, Sleep Deprivation, Hurt Sam Winchester, Sick Sam Winchester

Summary: Everyone deals with their losses in their own way, and Sam prefers to work things out on his own. But his angel friend can’t stand on the sidelines as the hunter wastes away in pain. Sam may have had a complex past, but an angel’s love is proof that he must have done something good.

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49. Something to Talk About by Fae-and-night (goodgirlgonegeek16)

Gen, M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 777 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: mentions Castiel but he's not actually here, Bunker Era, Dean being a big brother, telltale hickies, Love Bites

Summary: To be honest, Sam thought it took Dean way longer than he would’ve expected to figure he and Castiel were together.

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50. Lois by posingasme

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 4,195 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Superman References (DCU), Awkward Crush, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings

Summary: Jack discovers the joy of comic books, and reminds Castiel of a time when Bobby Singer called him Superman. And Dean had an opinion about who his Lois Lane was.

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51. Happy Ain't a Two-Story Victorian, But it Might Be This by Cuda (Scylla)

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 3,382 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Episode: s14e15 Peace of Mind, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fake Marriage, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Dean Winchester Tries, Family Issues, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester Bonding

Summary: Sam and Castiel have been on a mission to an Arkansas hamlet, and they haven't checked in. When Dean and Jack trail them to a quiet street in Charming Acres, what they find is nothing like either of them expected. To be honest, cleaning out a nest of vampires might be easier than this, but Dean's going to give it the old college try. Whatever that means.

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52. Milestones and Misunderstandings by klove0511

Part 2 of Milestones 'verse

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 2,711 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: mildly homophobic!Mary, inappropriate anniversary gifts, protective!Dean, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Season/Series 14, Fluff, Tumblr Prompt, Oblivious!Dean

Summary: There is something different about Sam and Cass. The lingering stares, the intimate touches. The careful whispers and secret smiles. Dean knew it. He was going to get to the bottom of it, one way or another.

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53. Stricta Dormire by klove0511

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Major Character Death | Words: 3,583 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Temporary Character Death, Fairy Tale Type Death, Established Relationship, Hurt Sam Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hell Trauma, Season/Series 14 Spoilers, Sad Dean Winchester, Sad Castiel, Grief/Mourning, True Love's Kiss

Summary: When Sam is hit by a spell, Cass is the only one that can save him. Meanwhile, Dean is grieving his brother, unaware of the struggle going on within Sam’s mind.

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54. Roadhouse Rough by posingasme

Gen, M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 12,738 | Chapters: 10/10

Tags: Curtain Fic, Alcohol, Hurt Sam Winchester, Retired Hunter Sam Winchester, Bartender Sam Winchester, Permanent Injury

Summary: The last tangle with the last archangel ended with an act of spite, from which Sam will never recover. Lucifer’s bitter parting gift to his wayward vessel means Sam’s forced retirement. He runs the hub from his very own Roadhouse, and watches over a powered-down nephilim, while a weakened but recovering Castiel hunts at Dean’s side. It’s a rough life, but someone’s got to do it.

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55. Familiar Spirits by Cuda (Scylla)

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 6,619 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Wisconsin - Freeform, The Beast of Bray Road, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Season/Series 15, Monster of the Week, Case Fic, Sastiel Secret Santa Exchange, Sastiel - Freeform, Sastiel Secret Santa 2019

Summary: Fills in a little gap of time between 15-7 and 15-8. Sam's on the hunt for Eileen, and winds up on a case in the middle of Wisconsin in December. What seems like a straightforward case of werewolves gets out of hand, when the werewolves turn out to be something Sam's never encountered before. It's Castiel to the rescue, but in the middle of the night in a refrigerator of a forest, one wrong move could be the last one they ever make.

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56. a rock with a hole in it by De_Nugis

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 11,052 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: faerie - Freeform, possibly in some way a Canadian shack fic, except Faerie, Consent Issues, animal death (hunting), Unrequited Destiel, Soulless Sam Winchester, POV Castiel

Summary: Castiel walks back into Faerie with Sam's soul in a jar in his pocket.

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57. Right Now by spideybegins

Gen, M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,512 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Hurt Sam Winchester, Comforting Castiel, samcas, Sastiel - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 15, Angst, Crying Sam Winchester, Don’t Look at These Messy Tags, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, no beta we die like men

Summary: The one where Cas hears Sam crying and realizes he’s been avoiding the youngest Winchester for much too long. Set somewhere in season 15.

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58. It’s Good to Be Here Again, With You by raisinghellonstarbug

M/M | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 2,240 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Canon Compliant, Reunions, Mentioned Dean Winchester, Fluff and Angst, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sharing a Bed, Season/Series 15, Episode: s15e07 Last Call

Summary: Sam is missing Castiel and doesn't understand why he left. He knows Dean has something to do with it. But then he shows back up just in time before Sam's in real trouble.

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59. wishing too hard for them to stay by angelfishofthelord

Gen | Rating: Not Rated | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 1,727 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Episode s15e17 coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, One Shot, Season/Series 15, Season/Series 15 Speculation, POV First Person, POV Sam Winchester [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: You tell me you’re doing to die, and I don’t yell at you. Instead I say, “Let’s go for a walk.”

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⚠️ Unfinished Fic - last updated in 2013

60. Of Blood And Water by lovedsammy

M/M, Gen | Rating: Mature | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 20,081 Chapters: 7/?

Tags: 8x23, Fallen Angels, Post Season/Series 08, Hurt/Comfort, Family, Romance, Angst, fallen!cas, Hurt!Sam, Hurt!Cas, Slash, stigmata!sam, Stigmata, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, AU, Season/Series 9 canon divergent, Friendship

Summary: Now AU to season 9! Post-8x23, "Sacrifice". Both of them were wounded, broken, in need of repair; both of them had done things in the name of the greater good and had ultimately failed and caused something or another to bend and break and destroy upon itself. They'd both wrecked themselves to achieve an end, and in turn wrecked others. But they couldn't have been more than two opposites on the end of the spectrum that somehow aligned at the middle-point, and now there was no going back.

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💜💀🖤 Self Rec 💜💀🖤

(because this is a list of my favs, and I wrote it for me)

61. grief and husbands on the interstate by ladygizarme

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 2,787 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: background wincest, background wincestiel - Freeform, they're a polycule but they're sam-centered, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Rimming, Bottom Sam Winchester, Spit As Lube, Wound Tending, Episode: s14e01 Stranger in a Strange Land, part coda, Part fix-it, Polyamory, Anal Sex

Summary: En route from Detroit back to the bunker, Cas makes them stop at a motel. Sam is exhausted, and so is everybody else. But right now, Castiel's priority is Sam, and he knows just what he needs. Part coda, part fix-it to 14x01.

#my rec list #sastiel #sastiel fanfiction #sam and cas #spn fanfiction #sastiel for bibros #sastiel for multishippers #sam whump #hurt/comfort #canon adjacent #caretaker!cas #caretaker!sam #canon sastiel #as in sastiel set during canon #outsider pov #unrequited destiel #wincestiel #unrequited wincest #spn fic recs #sastiel fic recs #sam + faith #boyking!sam

[tervaneula]

WAAOOOUUUGGHHH HAPPY BDAY @beeceit!!! Fawn I love you so much, you're so smart and funny and kind and I'm so happy to have met you <3

Uh oh Leonardo was supposed to be babysitting Bitty but I guess it's the other way around now. Congrats Bitty you're a dad now

(look at the bitty fic y'all do it for bitty)

#I actually had a lil comic in mind but I just don't have the energy. I'm happy I got this done though!!!! <3 #do not entrust toddlers to leonardo he will fall asleep trying to get them to fall asleep #this is purely based on my dad trying to get me to nap when i was just a wee babe. he fell asleep instead and mum took a photo of it #she's so funny i love her #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt fanfiction #future leonardo #future leo #rise leonardo #rise leo #turtle tot #turtle tot leo #pob bitty #nqk #nqk adjacent #tervdraws

[elvisabutler]

spark ( chapter two: prayer )

fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( fameless big daddy electrician/handyman ) x female original character word count: 10570ish so just shy of 11k this time. warnings: talk of children. a bit of negative self talk. infidelity in some form. elvis in glasses. religion playing an at least faintly important part. use of a washcloth in inventive ways. faint naivety regarding come and precome and pleasurable parts of sex, i suppose. fingering. implied/referenced masturbation ( m and f ). pining. talk of female reproductive issues. author’s note: so before you read anything involving this. i need you all to either go into this chapter blind other than my note about female reproductive issues or i need you to scroll all the way down to the bottom of this past the tag list for a bit of an explanation for that warning. i'm fine either way but i didn't want to spoil it in the warnings considering i left what happened fairly nebulous. all that being said hi y'all, welcome to the second chapter of spark! there is not a lot i can say other than telling you all i am so very thankful for every single one of you who read it and especially those of you who left comments in the notes or reblogged because hearing what feelings i invoked or what i did to y'all was a highlight and truly makes me want to interact with all of you more and makes me just want to hear more from all of you. this chapter and the next are a doozy but this one specifically has the nearly 6k bath scene as i've called it so you're in for a treat. special thank you to my southern gothic/southern sticky romance soulmate @precious-little-scoundrel because y'all know this wouldn't exist without her little whispers. additional thanks to my discord wives @ab4eva and @butlersxbirdy, my princess and my peach y'all know how much hearing y'all scream about my snippets made me know i was heading in the right direction. @blurredcolour thank you for also reassuring me that the one bit i showed you worked and wasn't just completely a mess. and last but not least @powerofelvis and @prompted-wordsmith thank you both for the edit job and smitty specifically for a few choice lines. i still am never gonna not laugh about you trying to sneak weepy in there though. and now before this author's not gets much longer, i present the second chapter of spark, titled prayer.

It's so quiet in the room. It's too quiet in the kitchen. It's too quiet even as Lilly hears Elvis's deep breaths against her back, hears her own softer breaths mixed with something that sounds almost like a whimper—a soft cry of elation with every other breath and shift of her body against his. Her vagina—her pussy—oh, she doesn't know what to call it now—aches in a way she's never felt before, not even when her husband took her for the first time in their bed. It aches but it doesn't hurt, it burns but in the way her legs burned after she would go running with Melly or how her arms burned after lifting up a basket of Nathan's clothes. Her—what had Elvis called it?—her clit, her button throbs as she feels his soft cock brush up against it as he moves forward just a bit, causing a noise that sounds so obscene Lilly can't help the way her cheeks darken even as another noise leaves her. Another whimper, this time lower in pitch, a keen leaves her mouth as Elvis stills his attempt to separate them.

"Lilly, darlin' I gotta—you gotta let me let ya down. Ya leg's startin' to hurt, ain't it?" Elvis murmurs, his hand moving down her flank, watching how her body starts to shiver, their shared sweat starting to cool on her body as the fan–the fan he just fixed whirrs above them. "Don't… it's gonna start hurtin' the more we stay here, darlin'. Let—" His hand moves to her thigh, feels how it's so sticky and slick with God knows what fluid, his or hers or both, and he's not sure how he's going to take his hand off of her if it starts to stick. Her shivers are starting to strengthen, be it from nervousness or the cool air or a combination and Elvis can't help the way a singular one flows through him, causing him to tighten his hold on her thigh and bury his face against her shoulder, a groan leaving his lips as he feels her clench at it. "It's—come on, Lilly, I gotcha, let me help ya."

It's those words, that mild parroting of words he had just whispered against the shell of her ear not even 15 minutes ago that has her head falling forward just a little, has her body going lax completely, a rag doll for him to maneuver how he sees fit. She doesn't trust herself to help him, doesn't trust the thoughts in her head that tell her to make him keep her this way, to keep him inside of her and keep her filled and aching all at once. Doesn't trust the traitorous thought that tells her Nathan would have never done this, would never be this gentle and calming with her. She'd already be standing on shaky legs with him tucking himself in his pants before telling her that was good. Elvis's arm catches her, holds her tight against him still as he helps her pull her leg down off the counter even as she hears that noise again that—squelch of her arousal and the sheer amount of come he had released in her. If this is how he sounded inside of her, what would happen when he pulled out of her? What would happen as he left her stretched and satisfied? Would—perhaps some would take. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. 

"Lil." His whisper is gentle, almost as if he's scared she'll bolt. "You hold onto me. Gonna get outta ya now. Gonna pull out of ya."

Her arm and her hand grip his own tightly, her shivers increasing as she feels Elvis start to pull out. The more he inches out bit by bit the more empty she feels, the more she feels as if there's a wound there that won't heal caused by him leaving. It's never felt like this with Nathan and she knows, she knows so deep in her bones and soul that should worry her. But her mind, her body, her everything has narrowed down to her and Elvis as he finally breaks free of her vagina and she feels a wetness like she's never felt before slide down her legs. Unbidden and unrestrained, a sob is wrenched from her throat as she's set down, her feet finally touching the floor once more. A sudden shift back to reality she wasn't prepared for.

Elvis's arm tightens around her even as her shivers worsen and as he feels and hears the sob that comes from her. He doesn't think he hurt her—not physically, at least—but he can't… he can't check her like this. Not when he looks down at her legs and sees his release sliding down her leg.

A realization hits him in that exact moment as his arm tightens around where—where a child would grow if any of his release caught. Where their child would grow if it caught. He hadn't worn protection. He allowed himself to enter her bare and come not once, but twice. Right in this very moment he could be sealing both of their fates. Her to have the child of a man who is not her husband and him—him, to see another man raise his child. To see his child grow up through pictures instead of being there for every waking moment. His thoughts are interrupted by another of Lilly's sobs and he shakes his head. She–she needs a bath, he can't let Nathan come home and see her like this. Even if he had been neglecting her, leaving her to wilt and leaving her to be watered and in the worst of cases fertilized by another man, Elvis couldn't be sure of his reaction to seeing the proof leaking out of his wife.

The fan creaks as it spins, unused to spinning after the break it had been given from being broken. Elvis's brain settles on the noise even as the air circulating causes even his body to let out a shiver. His own natural heat feels like it isn't enough in this one moment, as if it's too busy trying to keep Lilly warm to remember to keep him fully warm and yet he thinks he can handle it. It's nothing compared to winter in France. Nothing compared to the bite of the cold against his skin then. And yet—and yet it cuts far more to the bone, through his muscles and fat and everything that should protect him. Straight to the heart of him.

His arm finally falls from around Lilly’s waist as she moves to stand on her own, her legs a little shaky like a newborn deer. He hastily tucks himself back into his jumpsuit—she can't see what he put inside her, can't see his uncut cock even if it brought her pleasure he wonders if she's never had before. When she finally looks at him he has to stop himself from pulling her into his arms to kiss her. She looks… she looks like an angel and he's corrupted her like a devil. He's touched something that might not have been pure and innocent but was as close as he’s seen in such a long time and sullied it. Touched it with hands that have seen war and have seen death and threatened to cause death even in peacetime. What sort of person did that, what sort of man who believes in God with all his being now would do this to another man’s wife? Breaking not one, but two sins, and for what? To try and fix something that it isn’t his place to fix, that will never be his place to fix? To try and fix something only to potentially cause more things to break inside and out. He hopes she doesn’t see how his hand clenches into a fist, hopes she doesn’t see how he can’t look her in the eye right at this moment. He hopes—he hopes—he hopes she can forgive him, he hopes God can forgive him. 

Lilly can’t help the way her legs shake slightly and how her body trembles just a little bit. She’s not cold, not in a way that would cause this much shivering and yet here she was acting as if she had been dunked in a bath filled with cold water and shoved into a Yankee winter. Elvis was—is warm in a way she knows would help. Or at least she feels as if it would help because it would just be an extension of taking care of her, wouldn’t it? It would be him continuing the duty he’s given himself despite not… not being the man who promised to love and to hold and to take care of her in every conceivable way. He is just a man. He is just a man who she has grown quite fond of but a man nonetheless. A man who is not her husband and yet—no, this was just both of them being tempted and falling for temptation. In her mind, she thinks of never having Elvis speak to her again, thinks of a world where this act has ruined their relationship. No, their friendship, and she bites her lip to keep from crying out in anguish. He had been such good company. He is such good company and to lose that would have her all alone once again with nothing to show for it except… perhaps. Perhaps his release could catch inside her. Perhaps it could catch and form a child, their child and she would have someone to be with. She would have the child she longed for to spend her days doting on and mothering. She would have her company and she could be so much less angry—despondent over her friends and she could enjoy Melly’s pregnancy and any other ones that would come after because she’d at least have her own child. Too preoccupied with her thoughts, she nearly misses Elvis speaking to her and grabbing ahold of her hand. 

“Lil darlin’, ya shakin’ like a leaf. Ya got a robe or somethin’ in that bedroom of yourn?” He asks all while walking them ever so slowly to the bathroom near the other bedroom. It has a bathtub, that much he knows from using it but he knows it’s likely not anything compared to the one in the main bathroom adjacent to her bedroom. Lilly can only nod as an answer. “Ya good to go grab it? Don’t wanna—it’s not my place to see ya bedroom.”

He’s right and she knows he is but a part of her, the part of her that’s clinging onto his hand for dear life and doesn’t trust her legs to carry her into the bedroom and back to him shakes her head. “I’m—I don’t—walk me to it?”

“Lilly,” he starts before he looks up and sees her face pleading with him, begging silently in almost the same way it was up against the sink and he stops himself before nodding. “Just keep holdin’ my hand. I’ll walk wit’ ya.”

Between the walls and Elvis’s hand, Lilly’s steps are a little more certain by the time she makes it to the doorway of her bedroom where just on the inside there’s a hook that has her robe. She creaks the door open just slightly to grab it before pulling it on. It smells faintly of Nathan’s cologne and she can’t help but crinkle her nose in distaste, wishing it smelt different. The walk over to the other bathroom is just as slow and just as measured but the moment they reach it, Elvis moves to set her on the toilet after shutting the lid. His knees crack audibly as he gets down on the floor with a groan. Lilly winces as she hears the water turn on. “Warmer than you think I should have it.” 

He hadn’t asked what temperature she wanted the water but she figured it was best to tell him ahead of time, just in case he thought she needed it only lukewarm. His response is a chuckle before he turns the hot knob just a bit more. 

Her mind wanders as she sits there feeling more of his release sticking to her leg. Her mind wanders as she looks at Elvis in his jumpsuit still half open but done up so she can’t see what was between his legs, what had given her such pleasure that her vagina clenches 

involuntarily at the memory. Clenches at the memory of how full it felt, how it felt like it was catching, how it felt different than Nathan’s penis. Surely—oh surely with how full she feels even now with his release inside her it would take. It would catch and take and her belly would swell with new life. Her child would grow inside her and kick and roll and make her so happy even as she pushed them out, painful as everyone had told her it was. Her child would look like her if it was a daughter or perhaps a healthy mix of her and Elvis if it was a boy. Her breath catches at the image and she finds herself leaning against the toilet and clutching her hands to her stomach with her eyes shut. Her eyes shut so that the lord could hear her prayer because she’s only focusing on Him and the words she was praying up into the heavens. Please, Lord, please let it catch. Bless me with just this one baby.

Elvis looks over at Lilly over the rims of his glasses and is struck by how she looks so serene in the moment. How her robe covers her and how her head is tilted up as if she’s praying for something. His eyes drift down and notice her hands on her belly. Her hands that seem small compared to his on her belly and briefly, in a flash he berates himself for later, he pictures her growing round with his baby after the release he's just left in her has taken root. Pictures her blossoming and blooming right before his eyes as she thanks him with his favorite dinner with their child rolling inside of her under an apron. The word please leaves her lips, though, and it shatters that image quicker than anything else. She is married to an idiotic child, yes, but he is still her husband and is still a strapping young man. Perhaps still more suited for her than him. More suited to give her those children to help her bloom. He has to shut his eyes and pray for forgiveness and for God to dissolve his come before it reaches those parts of her that can bear fruit. She’s pleading with God that it doesn’t take—that they aren’t caught with their indiscretion and his mind is being selfish with the desires it has for her.

It doesn’t take long for the tub to fill and Elvis turns off the water before it gets to be too much. He can’t look at Lilly, hasn’t looked at her since he heard the word please fall from her lips and yet he knows he has to. He knows to help her into the bathtub he has to but he stares at the water, watching it ripple just a little until he hears Lilly’s voice. 

“Are you—? You can… can you stay?” Her skin flushes at her own question, as if it’s the worst possible thing for her to say, as if it’s mortifying to have it leave her lips. He is not her husband. He is, at best, a new friend—and she wants him to see her completely bare. “You don’t—”

Elvis cuts off her words with a shake of his head. “I’ll stay for ya. Since ya want me to.” He pauses, his eyes finally looking at her: specifically looking at her legs where his release is still sliding down onto the floor of the bathroom. Had he honestly come that much? “Ya—e need to—I came in ya, Mrs. H—Lilly. It’s gonna need to be washed outta ya,” his hand twitches as his eyes drift to her stomach and he has to stop himself from placing his hand on it with his next words. “Don’t want ya bein’... Don’t wanna cause ya any issues.”

Don’t want to have my child growin’ inside of ya, is what he means, Lilly thinks. Her traitorous mind wants to be that mean woman Nathan’s accused of her of being and spit that she wants to swell with his baby. She wants to grow round with his baby because she wants a baby and Nathan won’t give her one. She wants a child to love and dote on and to cherish. She bites her tongue though, because it’s not right to say it, it’s not proper to admit she might do anything for a baby. Instead she nods and moves to take off the robe, motioning for Elvis to help her with the rest of her clothes as she stands up. Ever the gentleman, he obliges, and Lilly can’t help the goosebumps and shivers that dot her in his hands’ wake as his fingertips glide across her skin. Her body hunches over just slightly to protect her modesty as if he hadn’t just had her against her kitchen sink not once, but twice. Elvis frowns slightly when he sees this, the frown only deepening as she moves to step into the tub on her own. It doesn’t take him but a second to scoop her into his arms.

Lilly squeaks slightly at the unexpected touch before she leans against him, her hand moving to play with his chest hair until he sets her down softly into the tub. A whine escapes her lips as her vagina hits the water, the temperature difference reminding her of their actions. A moment passes before Elvis opens his mouth to ask something and Lilly tilts her head to the cabinet above the toilet. “Middle shelf.”

A nod is his only response to her direction until she hears the crack of his knees signaling how he’s back down on the ground. Her eyes haven’t left the water, watching how there’s little bits of white, stringy and almost clear swirling around the water. It was all going to waste. It was all going to be going down the drain and she was going to remain barren, a woman with no fruit of her loins to call her own when there should be no reason for that. Elvis eyes her before setting the washcloth in the water and humming, his hand moving to touch her shoulder, a strangely domestic touch that she doesn’t shy away from.

“There’s so much of it.” Lilly whispers absentmindedly, her head tilting just so as Elvis hums and chuckles slightly because she’s not wrong. 

“It’s just—that’s my—that’s what I produce before I actually release inside ya. Hell, I think most of it might be that ‘cause I ain’t ever produced this much.” A truth if he’s honest with himself, even in his younger days he doesn’t remember this much being in a condom and yet he had filled her with so much it’s just leaking out of her. He had filled her like he was her husband and they were trying for a child. He had done the unthinkable and yet there’s a small part of him that wonders how much of his release is inside of her. That small part has his cock twitching just slightly against his leg, ready to give her more if she asks, to fill her up and replace what’s being lost in the water. He shakes his head to clear it, to direct the blood flow back to his thinking self and not the desirous snake in his pants.

“This ain’t the part we gotta worry ‘bout anyway. It’s the thicker stuff,” he points to a small bit that’s floating from her vagina as he speaks, “like that right there that we gotta worry ‘bout. But the rest? Ya see how it's slidin’ right out? We don't gotta worry bout those parts.”

Lilly has to stop herself from perking up at that knowledge. That there’s more where this came from and that this? She can lose as much of this as she is right now while still perhaps having his seed catch. This was just the initial bit, the majority of it is still inside of her and she clenches, tightens her vagina even as it feels to be an insurmountable task as it throbs and pulses from the effort. She can't tilt her hips up like her mother had told her but later, perhaps, later she could lay in bed and tilt her hips to help whatever is left behind reach where it needs to be. 

Elvis can't put it off any longer as he stares at rippling water, he needs to help this along, other than those small bits not much of his release is coloring the water. If too much stayed within her—her body would change soon, her body would change and it would be all his fault. He would be responsible for her blooming and blossoming but with a child that wouldn't be, couldn't be taken care of the way he'd want them to. He leans closer to Lilly and finds his hand holding the washcloth sliding up her leg. 

"Don't—I gotcha Lilly. Gonna help clean ya out, alright? Gonna be as gentle as I can." He waits to see her acknowledgement of a nod before he finally moves his hand up to between her legs, the heel of his hand against her mound and his hand covering everything else.

Her body—her vagina feels as if he's shocked her, as if there's a live wire from his hand to her. A gasp leaves her lips even as she inadvertently grinds down on his hand, chasing a feeling she can't quite put her finger on. It’s almost instinctual the way she reacts, the way her eyes shut as she hisses, the pressure too much while at the same time too little. At her hiss Elvis pulls back his hand as if it’s been burned. It’s not his job to take care of her, it’s not his job to make sure she’s alright after their intercourse against the sink and yet he doesn’t think he could live with himself if he hurt her. He knows how to take care of a woman after sex and he’d be damned if he didn’t treat Lilly with all the respect—and love, his mind traitorously whispers—she deserves.

“Lil, ya alright? Did I…” he starts before his words are cut off with a violent shake of her head. Words are failing her and his eyes search her face for a clue as if that will explain her actions and finds it in the way she shifts in the bath slightly. “Ya sensitive down there?” 

Lilly nods and breathes slowly through her nose. “I think so? It’s—It feels like it’s throbbing, Mr. Pre—Elvis.” 

In the back of his mind he knows that means she took him well and that he pleasured her thoroughly. It means that her body is overwhelmed with the sensation. It means that it’ll be like that for days to come. A small, sick bit of joy shoots through him at the thought of her aching for him and his stomach roils as soon as the thought comes to him. He would be no better than her husband who ignores her if he took pleasure in the idea. If he took pleasure in knowing he left her aching for him while she is married to her husband. 

His words are measured when he speaks, a low murmur as he leans closer, taking the washcloth back in his hands. “Ya ain’t—I’m a lil bigger than most, should have prepped ya better. Jus’. We both got a lil’ overwhelmed, didn’t we? ‘S’alright, ‘m gonna make it better, darlin’. Gonna be gentle as I can. Gonna help ya get all this out of ya. Keep ya from having my baby.”

Lilly’s face falls at his words even though he doesn’t notice, too preoccupied with shifting his focus downward to her vagina. Her breath is slow and measured as she watches him, trying to give this a clinical air, trying to make her body realize there’s nothing arousing about this. This is him just trying to clean his release out of her to keep from being tied to her in some way permanent. Her hand drifts to her belly as she curls into him, her head leaning onto his shoulder. He’s methodical with the outside of her and using the cloth he tries to reach between her folds, tries to open her up only to feel as she tenses just that little bit harder. Forcing her open isn’t an option, not one he wants to seriously consider, at least, and he pauses. His fingers through the rough washcloth threaten to ignite another fire low in her belly as they rub slightly against her skin—at least, if the way she whimpers softly is any indication. Perhaps if he brushed against her clit, perhaps that could open her up. It’s helped in other times when he’s wanted to pleasure another woman. His thumb is already near it and without dwelling on his thought his thumb swipes against it, the wash cloth adding friction that has her unclenching faster than he thought was possible, the shock of it ricocheting through her system. A gasp escapes her lips. A gasp that sounds like his name. He refuses to dwell on what that means as he brushes his thumb against her clit once more. 

“Elvis,” she whimpers his name as his thumb swipes a third and a fourth time and she can feel her vagina clenching and unclenching at the feeling, at the sensation as finally she relaxes fully, allowing his fingers to enter her without a question. “Sensitive.” 

Her mind is narrowing to single words, the swirl of arousal curling tighter and tighter in her abdomen with each brush of his thumb and each press of his fingers inside of her. The washcloth shouldn’t help the feeling, it shouldn’t make her eyes want to roll in the back of her head from the friction and the slight roughness. The splashes of his arm and hand hitting the water as his fingers move in and out of her ground her and yet have her floating away. Her brain registers him speaking through her whimpers of pleasure. Pleasure that she doesn’t know what to—to do with, having been denied it for so long. 

“I know it’s a lot but gotta be thorough, Lilly. Gotta make sure it's all out,” he whispers softly to her, his fingers never stopping their task. “That's it, unclench for me, Lil darlin. Let—ya gotta help me, we gotta make sure there isn't anything left up there."

Faintly she can hear him and feel herself nodding, too busy trying not to rock against his fingers. That’s not what he’s doing this for, he’s trying to prevent—he’s trying to prevent a child. He’s trying to protect her marriage and yet her body wants to move on instinct. She wants to be beholden to her instincts just this once. Just this once she wants to have pleasure and happiness she doesn’t have to beg and plead for. It’s nice, this haze that overwhelms her senses, and she can’t truly recall the cold, distant figure of her husband leaving each and every day for work without so much as a kiss on the cheek as it has been recently. Instead she is nestled into the crook of Mr. Presley’s neck, lips tasting of the salt of his sweat. She wants to feel like he made her feel against the sink. Her body cants itself just so in order to earn another swipe of his thumb and she feels herself dangling on the precipice of something—of her orgasm, maybe? Was she about to find release on his fingers as he cleaned her body out with a washcloth? As he cleaned his release so a child didn’t form inside her, giving away their actions from tonight? A miniscule part of her feels as if she ought to be mortified but it doesn’t drown out her sighs and whines as she feels his fingers curl just so—trying to make sure she’s clean. It doesn’t drown out how her hips move once in another attempt to grind before he puts his hand on the back of her neck. A comforting gesture, yes, but when paired with his next words seals her fate.

“Take what ya need right now. Jus' takin’ care of ya. It’ll help get more outta ya. That’s it, Lil darlin, Elvis’s gotcha.”

A keen, high pitched and pained, leaves her mouth as she feels herself fluttering around—no, clenching around—his fingers before becoming practically boneless against him, the aftershocks from the orgasm causing a new round of shivers and goosebumps to happen. Her face burrows into his shoulder as he works her through them gently before her hand moves to grab his wrist, the sensitivity finally becoming too much. 

“Elvis it’s, o-oh—” Lily struggles to articulate her words and breathe and exist in this moment, the sensation drowning out any thoughts other than the pulse of her own heartbeat she feels between her legs. “It—”

Elvis shushes her, trying his hand on her neck, rubbing it and tightening over and over as he finishes cleaning her out, knowing that whatever is left is too high up for him to reach. He’d have to just pray to god for that to be done away with. "Shhhh, Lilly… Darlin', I'm sorry, bein' as gentle as I can.”

Lilly should object to how his hand at her neck feels almost as if she's a kitten being dragged along by their mother but she can't find it in her to do such a thing. She can't find it in her to since objecting would mean he'd remove something that truthfully is keeping her tenuous grip on reality and the Earth there. She figures she'd float away without it. There's a part of her that doesn't think she'd mind in that moment, that she'd understand floating away after what's happened because it almost doesn't feel real, especially as he takes care to wash her body despite her being fully capable of doing it herself. His grip loosens for the last time as she watches him lean over and unplug the drain. The water swirls slowly at first, gaining speed the longer she stares at it and the more of his release slides down the drain. She hears the crack of Elvis's knees as he stands up and winces for him even as his shadow towers over her. She should get up out of the tub, she knows this and yet her legs feel just shaky enough that she finds the task impossible until she feels his arms underneath hers.

Getting out with his support allows her to fully catch her bearings as he hands her a towel that she wraps around her body, drying herself off as he grabs another and assists with her legs, his knees cracking once again at him getting back down. She makes the mistake of looking down at him and seeing him look up at her with a surprising sense of worship she only ever usually associates with church and God. A shiver makes its way through her at the realization. 

Her voice sounds like it's going through a tunnel as she says something about how she's fine from here. She swears she hears herself say Mr. Presley and hears him say Mrs. Harris like he hadn't seen her naked and like he hadn't just helped her to clean out his release. Their formalities would make her laugh in any other situation, especially if she thinks of his seed catching inside of her. It wouldn't do to call her that when she was carrying his child, now would it? Wouldn't do for her to call him that as her belly rounded out with his baby, would it? Would it?

He leaves and she waits until she hears a goodbye burst forth loud enough to break through the tunnel her ears are in to finish drying off and getting ready.

She barely finishes making dinner as Nathan walks through the door.

Elvis… Elvis finds himself under his shower cursing his actions even as he remembers her face and her pleasure. He dreams of a life. He dreams of a life with her. He dreams of their life together. It feels worse than any nightmare.

Charlie notices something is up the moment he walks in the diner and sees Elvis already sitting down at their table, a plate with just bacon in front of him in addition to eggs and what looks like toast, or at least he hopes it’s toast. It looks like a plate for him and Elvis and yet he sees the man he's willing to call one of his truest friends eating it all as if it's just for him. He ought to be gentle about the whole thing, ask Elvis a question calmly and innocently. 

Instead, as any sensible friend who’s seen you naked and bleeding and cryin’ for your mama does, he steals two pieces of bacon and sits down in the chair across from his best friend and chomps on said bacon before asking one, singular question: "What are you doing?"

Elvis's hand darts out with a speed that betrays his army training to grab the other piece of bacon only to be rebuffed with a frown. "Eating bacon, Charlie. Ya suddenly blind now? Short and blind, what a catch for ya wife."

Charlie visibly recoils and waits for Elvis to apologize or give him some clue that the statement was just his normal, playful ribbing. The crunch of the bacon disabuses him of that notion as the minutes tick by. "We got a family so she must've seen something in me. Just thankful she didn't see you first."

"Ain't that everyone's damn thanks. Thankful I didn't see their wives back then but if I see 'em now they ain't gotta worry. Women don't go for this body like they did back in the day." Elvis stabs at his eggs and Charlie—Charlie thinks he knows what's going on and he can't help but roll his eyes internally. 

"Did some woman turn you down and now you're moping? Over a plate of bacon after church?" He tries to keep the judgment out of his voice but there's still a hint there that he can't do away with. 

If looks could kill as well as every gun both he and Elvis have ever used, Charlie's certain in this moment he would be preparing to go to sleep in his eternal resting place. As it stands he once again realizes that perhaps he ought to not poke his absolute bear of a best friend. Elvis's next words punctuated by another crunch of bacon and a laugh so bitter Charlie's never heard it come from him seals that idea.

"Oh. Charlie, my boy, my boy, that would have been better. I would have handled that like a champ," he shakes his head, "ya 'member Mrs. Harris? The—the woman I told ya 'bout?"

“Yeah, the one with the niece and the husband who can’t work his way ‘round a wrench. What about—?” Charlie stops mid sentence and stares long and hard at Elvis trying to school his face into something normal and something less like he looks about ready to murder him before realizing it’s impossible and saying the first words that come to mind in the most hushed tone he can manage. “Wasn’t one of your rules you wouldn’t sleep with a married woman?”

Elvis can’t help but curse the fact that Charlie has seen him through some of, if not the worst, parts of his life and can regrettably read him like an open book sometimes. He doesn’t answer with words. Instead he allows himself to eat a piece of toast that is both soggy and crispy all at once. His silence is practically deafening before Charlie exhales. 

“You—ou got me thinking your daddy died or something and all this is because you slept with another man’s wife? A man who’s practically ignoring her despite how she looks like a—” Elvis swallows and holds up his pointer finger before practically growling. 

“Not other fuckin’ word, Hodge. Not a single fuckin’ word. Lilly ain’t some fuckin’ European floozy we forgot ‘bout the next day. Don’t ya say ‘nother fuckin’ word.”

A chuckle leaves Charlie’s mouth despite his best efforts to stop it. Elvis is moping about a woman alright, just not the way Charlie thought he was. He wouldn’t have—He loves Elvis, he does but he would have never predicted him managing to charm a woman like that if she didn’t know who he was beforehand. If she didn’t know him as he was when they both came back from the war, both struggling with things they had seen yet pared down to a lean type of beauty: the scraggly pines that grew on Italian mountaintops. Yet maybe, just maybe, there was hope. Very stupid and unwise hope, but hope nonetheless that Elvis might be able to enjoy the same sort of life he has. 

"Cursing on the Lord's day. At me. She's got you—pass me your whole pig's worth of bacon and tell me what happened, E."

Elvis stares at the plate and lets out a heavy sigh as he scoots the plate over. “It ain’t a whole pig’s worth of bacon.”

“It’s as big as my head.” Charlie states, motioning to get the attention of one of the waitresses in an attempt to get a plate and different food even as he eats a piece of bacon.

“Ya have a tiny head, Hodge. Like a damn lil hedgehog.” 

Meanwhile across town Lilly finds herself in her sister’s kitchen, sitting at her dining room table with the light of the sun shining on her through the window. Her sister Melly busies herself with the finishing touches of a lunch for the two of them and Jerry. Lilly had tried to help only to be waved off with an ease that had her sitting down in the chair watching, her hands settling on her stomach as they had been since that fateful afternoon. It’s too soon to know, she reasons, too soon to know if Elvis’s seed took and has filled her empty womb with a child she’s craved for years. Yet her hands gravitate there anyway, almost trying to provide a cradle as if to tell the child she hopes is forming inside her that it’s okay to stay, it’s alright and that she’ll be their mother. She’ll take such good care of them and they’ll get to meet their cousins. They’ll get to meet their cousins and grow up with the one swelling underneath Melly’s apron. 

Melly notices this, of course, notices how her sister is cradling her belly and yet she doesn’t dare ask. She doesn’t dare ask if Nathan’s finally done right by her sister and given her the baby she so desperately wants. Her chest hasn’t changed and she hasn’t felt a firmness when she’s brushed against her but perhaps it’s just too early.

“You’re looking happier,” Melly comments as she sets down the plates of food. She leaves Jerry’s on the counter, knowing her husband will grab it when he comes back inside from dealing with the yard.

Lilly can’t help the way she smiles slightly and practically preens at the acknowledgment that she seems happier. Elvis might not be—Elvis might not have been by since that afternoon but there was something so beautiful about his actions, so gentle and nourishing about him that it stuck with her. The throbbing in her vagina’s finally stopped after days of her cupping it and playing with it next to Nathan’s snoring body, wishing her fingers were thicker and longer and wishing it was Elvis’s cock sliding in and out of her. That he was keeping her full and telling her he’s got her, he’s always got her while filling her with so much of his release that there’d be no other choice but to swell with his child. 

She doesn’t dwell on the fact that it’s taken another man to make her feel a way she hasn't for years. She can’t dwell on that because it’s improper and she’d like to just bask in the glow of everything for now. She’d like to bask in the glow of things before a different glow would overtake her. 

“I feel happier.” Lilly answers, still continuing to grin as she digs into the food. There’s a hint of nausea at some of it but she chalks it up to being hungry. “I feel different.”

Melly’s eyebrows both move upward as she settles into her chair and takes a bite of her toast first, knowing how her stomach reacts to food without a bland base to start off with. “Different. Does that have anything to do with Nathan and you? Anything you want to tell me?”

Lilly’s hand stills in its subconscious rubbing as her eyes widen. “No. Not—not yet.”

There’s something that shifts in Melly, a brightness that shines through as she looks at Lilly. If she is pregnant it's too soon to tell but the idea that she'd be carrying her second while Lilly is finally carrying her first delights her in ways she can't put into words. It's perhaps a secret dream she's always had. The scrape of her chair against the linoleum is harsh to both their ears and yet it’s a small price to pay for the feel of Melly’s hand against her stomach. 

“You’ll tell me as soon as you know?” Melly’s voice comes out as a whisper, as if she’s scared to speak it any louder. “You’ll tell me I’ll have a niece or nephew on the way?”

Lilly nods quickly as she hears the door open and hears Jerry’s voice carry into the kitchen. Melly’s hand moves off of her stomach as quick as can be before Jerry pops his head in and smiles. “Won’t ask what you two were doing before I got here.”

Life doesn't stop that Sunday and instead continues on and on with one week passing by and then another and another until Lilly knows she's due for her cycle and yet it doesn't appear. Her underwear remains pristine and white with not a drop of blood in sight. She doesn't dare tell Melly or anyone yet, knowing it could be a fluke, a stress induced issue but she swears she feels her womb hardening. She swears she feels it bloating in a way that feels different than what comes before her cycle. Perhaps, perhaps Elvis had done it. Perhaps Elvis had filled her and their child was forming unbeknownst to either of them. It occurs to her that she should try and reach out to him and see if he can come by her home. There's nothing that's broken for him to be fixed and yet he deserves to know what's happening inside her. That soon her stomach will round outward and their child will kick and roll and grow inside of her. That she is still married but it would be cruel to deprive him of ever knowing of their child. 

It's too soon for him to know, she'll tell him when she's sure, when there's no mistaking what has happened to her because of their actions that afternoon. She'll tell him then, she'll convince him to come by and press his hand against her stomach so he can feel what he's—what she wished and prayed to have happen even as he washed himself out of her. He ought to be able to be in their life somehow because he's their father and he'd make such a brilliant one. He'd make such a brilliant one and her mind traitorously tells her it's a shame she wouldn't be raising the child with him. 

Six weeks is a long time for him to be avoiding Lilly and he knows that. He knows that she didn't deserve to be left out in the cold like that—to be left without company and companionship like that but he can't help it. He can't help how his mind drifts when his exhaustion sets in remembering how her body felt against his when they danced and when she sagged against him. It’s a sin to covet a man’s wife as much as he covets Lilly. It’s a sin to want to be in another man’s home taking care of his wife in any way she’ll let him. It’s a sin and yet it feels so right, it feels like he’d be doing what he’s meant to be doing. Elvis is not her husband and yet his mind—his traitorous mind and soul tells him he should be and tells him she needs him in some way. She’s been happier, he thinks, since that afternoon—and his mind tells him that he had something to do with that. There’s a glow about her and it draws him in like a moth to a flame before he pulls himself away every Sunday when she passes off her niece. A nagging thought crosses his mind as the weeks go by and he swears that glow is stronger every time he sees her, that perhaps it wasn’t just happiness and joy causing her to glow that way. He ought to ask her and yet the idea feels invasive in a way that makes him think he has to find the right time for it. If his suspicions prove to be correct, he figures they both will need time to process it. 

Six weeks is a long time for him to avoid her and it makes it so that when he gets a call that sounds like Lilly crying there isn’t a moment of hesitation before he finds himself jumping into his truck and driving to her house she shares with her husband. Her door is unlocked and he wants to admonish her for it, tell her that she shouldn’t leave the door unlocked because you never know who might come in but then he sees her. He sees her tear stained face and her rumpled dress and fears the worst. A flash of pure anger courses through his veins as his mind swirls with possibilities of why she’s crying. Why her face and body betray such anguish that it twists his gut and has his mouth opening to speak before her voice sounding so small in a way he’s never heard interrupts him. 

“I was waiting. I was being careful!” Her words don’t make sense to Elvis even as his eyes trace over her form and around the house where they’re standing as if either thing holds the clue for what’s going on. As if some part of the way she’s carrying herself—hunched over—or the way things seem out of place—her lunch was sitting on the table only half eaten—would explain what’s happening, why she had called him crying, muttering about needing to fix things. 

His tone is soft and comforting as he moves to touch her shoulder, to pull her into some form of a hug. “Darlin’—” The word slips out before he can stop himself but he continues. “What’s… what’s wrong?”

Her eyes look up at him and he’s struck by how bloodshot they look. How long had she been crying? How long had her body been wracked by sobs that no one was there to comfort her from? Elvis watches as her mouth opens and closes several times before she shakes her head. “I—the oven is broke again.”

“Lil—Mrs. Harris, things I fix don’t break like that. Not this quick.” He tries to defend his work, knowing there’s no Earthly way that it was broken already. He had made sure to fix it, he had made sure that her oven wouldn’t need his touch for quite a long time after he was inside of it that day. In the back of his mind he thinks he’s missing something.

“It’s broken, Mr. Presley. It’s broken and can’t keep heat and bake anything and I’ll call someone else over if you won’t fix it. Just please take a look at it. Just make it work like I thought it was.” Lilly’s voice shakes but doesn’t waver when she speaks. If anything it seems to get stronger the longer she speaks. It seems she’s more insistent with every word that comes from her mouth. Something is broken—the oven he was supposed to fix is broken and she wants him to check it again. That nagging feeling grows as he looks at her in confusion. He prides himself on being a smart enough man, but… maybe it’s because she clouds his judgment. He can’t tell what she’s talking about.

“Lil—Lilly, why did you call me here?” He manages to almost stutter out the words, wincing he hears it. She has to answer him when he asks point blank, doesn’t she? 

Lilly is silent for the longest while and Elvis thinks he pushed too hard, thinks that he’s overstepped for once—twice—in their friendship and opens his mouth to apologize before she grabs his hand and places it on her stomach. In a rush everything clicks into place for Elvis and swears his heart stops. He should move his hand and yet he can’t, it’s almost as if there’s a magnet keeping his hand attached to her stomach. The oven is broken, her oven is broken and empty and can’t keep heat. 

The night before, when his body gave out and had him sleep he tossed and turned over images of him and Lilly together. Images of her swollen with a child and laughing next to him. He remembers being on his knees kissing her still-flat stomach and laughing with her hand over his and telling her how she’s made him the happiest man alive. He could still hear her giggles ringing in his ears when he woke up. That was fantasy, a dream dreamed up by an old man who shouldn’t be dreaming of a life with a woman he isn’t married to and who is married to another. They’re brilliant company for each other but—but she is not his wife and he is not her husband. 

“I’m sorry.” Elvis whispers the words and they feel so insubstantial, so insignificant to what he feels in this moment. The sorrow he feels for her being fed by her tears and the way her silence just drags on and on. Perhaps this was his doing, perhaps there was something there and he had broken it. Perhaps—perhaps he should have been selfish and not cleaned his release from her. Or perhaps—he can’t dwell on it. It threatens to drive him mad if he does. 

And yet his mind can't shake another time and place where his hand is there for another reason, with her hand over his, a smile on her face instead of tears rolling down her cheeks and onto his suit as she curls into a hug he offers. She looks so young and yet like she's been crushed by the world all at once. A flower run over on the side of the road, soaked in the gutter. The attempt he finally makes to move his hand is thwarted by her own grasping his wrist, forcing him to press down to feel that she's bloated but still very empty.

It was supposed to be different. Things were supposed to go well, she had prayed and begged and cradled her womb and for what? For her cycle to be off and there to be blood mocking her in her underwear? For there to be cramping that feels like it might threaten to tear her in two. No one she’s known has lost a baby, there’s no one she can ask to see if that’s what’s happening. If the child she swore was growing from the moment Elvis released inside of her not once but twice was gone. Or if there just wasn’t one at all and she had been deluding herself. Either option feels almost unbearable and feels like a lead weight in her stomach.

Elvis doesn’t speak and Lilly’s thankful for it. Her dream of telling him and them figuring out how he would be involved has been flushed down the toilet multiple times today and is currently flowing between her legs. Her hand finally loosens its grip on his wrist and her chest tightens as she looks into his eyes. Those blue eyes shouldn’t be so caring, they shouldn’t look so caring when looking at her. There shouldn’t be sympathy in those eyes directed toward her or her empty womb. Yet there is and Lilly is struck not for the first time at how different Elvis is from Nathan. She’s struck by how she’s been in this sort of position before with her husband and she doesn’t recall there being nearly as much care and—dare she even pretend?—-anguish in his gaze. She remembers frustration at himself or, or her? She doesn’t know. She can’t recall just now.

“I—I was late,” She starts, and shakes her head, sniffling. “I was late for my cycle and I didn’t—I don’t know why I called you.”

Elvis doesn’t dare say the first thoughts that come to mind. Doesn’t dare tell her that he thinks she knows exactly why she called him because the mere idea shouldn’t be put into words. He’s already damned himself and her anguish, her pain is perhaps a consequence of it. Had he not given in to his baser urges perhaps Nathan would have given her a child that she could tell him she was growing inside of her. If he hadn’t given into his baser urges she wouldn’t have thought his child was growing inside of her. He shuts his eyes, trying to not think of the image of her swollen with his child once again. 

“Comfort?” The word as an answer feels safe and from the look on Lilly’s face, how it relaxes just a little bit and how her hunched over position straightens out even as she grimaces in pain he was right. However, that urge to fix that had caused so many problems rears its ugly head again and Elvis knows he should ignore it but the grimace on her face reminds him that she’s in pain and to leave her in pain without attempting to help her feels cruel. It feels cruel to just allow her to deal with this on her own. Perhaps that’s why she had called him, taken the chance that he wouldn’t want her to be alone in this situation. Taken the chance to assume he missed her and just wants what he's craved from her more than anything else: her company. 

A nod is the only thing she manages before her body is wracked with another flare of pain as Elvis watches. He’s never—he’s never been here when she’s on her cycle so he doesn’t know if this is normal or not but he remembers June and remembers the other girls and knows, in this moment, he can’t leave her like this. Especially after she had called him. His mind tries to think back on what other women would do before he remembers how some would curl up in bed and ask for heat and any number of other things. The flash of memory at her in the bath after their activities and a flash of a fantasy of her in the bath with him runs through his thoughts until he shakes his head to clear it. 

“Missus—Lilly. Darlin’, I—wouldn’t it be better to be laying down? For your pain?” His words are chosen as carefully as he can and yet he still feels like he might have said the wrong thing until he sees her move to lean and sag against him as if he’s the only thing that’s going to keep her standing in this exact moment. 

“My—oh, just help me to my bedroom, you don’t—” The words are lost as Elvis picks her up, earning a bit of a shocked gasp from her. “You don’t have to pick me up, I can w-walk.”

Elvis stays silent for a moment or so as he walks, ignoring the ache in his knees that tell him he should have prepared more for this. That he should have known better than to pick Lilly up like this and yet he finds that it’s easy to ignore the ache as her protest grows a little quieter and she practically burrows into his hold. He is not her husband and yet he wonders if her husband’s ever done this for her. Ever treated her with care when she’s like this. 

Nathan had noticed her pain that morning and brushed it off, much to Lilly’s frustration. It’s not that she wanted him to know she had engaged in a transgression but she was his wife and she was in pain. Jerry had made sure Melly was taken care of after Lizzie and Nathan couldn’t even be bothered to call her sister or anyone. The neglect is what feels like an even worse knife than the one she swears she feels in her lower stomach. The neglect is why she called Mr—Elvis. Even in the short time she’s at least partially known him—the actual him, not the image she had of the man who taught her niece’s Sunday school—has taken care of her and hasn’t left her to rot and wallow in her pain and loneliness. He’s kept her company and fixed so many things around her house that at this point she’s thinking she’s going to have to break things just to have an excuse to get him to visit under the guise of working. 

She knows she shouldn’t relax in his hold, she shouldn’t burrow into his arms like he’s her husband and he’s just carrying her to their bed but she can’t help it, the sheer joy and calmness that settles over her from the care he shows overwhelming her. His arms allow her to feel safe in the moment, help her to forget how much pain she’s in physically and mentally. They are a balm to her aches even as she potentially causes some for him. It doesn’t take too long for him to reach her bedroom, using his body to open the door the entire way from its cracked open position. Lilly hears him sigh and feels his head move to try and avoid looking around before she feels him shift her in his arms.There’s a difference, she thinks, in knowing that he would have to eventually set her down on her bed and him actually doing it. 

A shiver runs through her body that has Elvis’s grip tightening as he moves his hands away. It’s not cold and yet here she was shivering like she was that fateful night.

“You alright?” he murmurs, low and questioning in a way that he shouldn’t be.

“You’re warm,” she whispers back at him, looking into his eyes and trying to pretend that answers everything. Pretend that telling him he’s warm will get him to stay and comfort her until it’s time for Nathan, cold, icily indifferent Nathan to be home. “I feel—it felt good.”

Elvis opens his mouth to speak before his breath catches in his throat at the sheer intensity of the look she’s giving him. He can’t put a name to what he sees in her eyes, only that it threatens to overwhelm him if he stares at her for too much longer. He has to leave, he needs to go back to work or home or just somewhere where her eyes aren’t burning holes into his soul. He finally starts to step away only for Lilly’s arm to find its way in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. Her hand moves to grab his and grasps it so tightly he can’t wrench it from her. 

“Can you—can you stay?” She asks, quiet as a church mouse and looking as if she expects him to say no. As if she expects to be left alone to deal with things once again. It makes his stomach roil and twist and he feels almost like throwing up before he moves to sit down on the bed. 

“Not for too long, Lilly,” he answers, as he watches her move to the other side of the bed, letting go of his hand as she does. He sits down, groaning slightly as he does at the feel of her bed underneath him. It dips more than it did when she was occupying the same spot, his weight causing the springs to creak just a bit more. Lilly waits until he gets comfortable to move closer to him. He stays sitting, his body leaning against the headboard, not even daring to try and lay down in her marriage bed. It makes trying to cuddle with him harder than it should be but after a moment of a deliberation she settles on laying her head in his lap. The warmth of his belly seeps into her head, soothing any headache she’s gained from crying and the vantage point allows her to feel encased in what feels like a protective shell. Elvis tries to keep his hands to himself but as he feels Lilly settle against him and sees every wince and shift his hands move to her hair, running his fingers through it. Scratching ever so softly against her scalp. Lilly’s sigh tells him it was the right thing to do and emboldens him to sing, breathe out into the world the first song that comes to mind when he thinks of her. 

Lilly hears Elvis’s voice singing Jo Stafford to her, a song she’s only heard once or twice before but it feels so romantic that something inside her chest feels warm and feels almost like it’s blossoming the more she hears his voice singing in that low tone, his hands flowing through her hair. 

“But just remember, darling, all the while, you belong to me,” he sings, watching as Lilly’s eyes start to flutter shut, the pain and the emotions of today getting the best of her. The more he sings the more he realizes he wishes those words were true. The more he wishes he wouldn’t have to leave in a few hours. But she is not his wife and he is not her husband and he’ll leave in a few hours as he should. He’ll leave after he shakes her awake lightly, grimacing as she winces in pain and as her eyes practically beg him to stay once again. He'll leave watching her curl back into her sheets but won't see her head move to where he had been sitting or see her hands grab at the pillow that had been behind his back.

She will wake up alone right before Nathan comes home. She will wake up to a simple dinner made with two plates on the table. 

She calls him back over the next day.

taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @be-my-ally,  @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @marriedtopresley, @memphis-menace, @steph-speaks, @coolgirl462, @vintageshanny, @memphisflash1935-1977, @j-v-9-2, @sexystarfish, @duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, @jessicarcates, @chirssycrumble9456789, @shantellescrivener, @yomammalolha, @honey6578, @urmom11111111111119, @myradiaz, @elvispresleyxoxo, @tryingtogettoelvis, @joegramoe, @rainblue-art, @fav-fanficssss, @moodyblueriver, @misspresley, @fallinlovewithurlove, @ash-omalley, @yynneessmons good heavens, i think that's everyone. those of you who didn't get the tag, know i'm gonna head to the messages within the day. also i including those of you who reblogged the first chapter. i would have done likes as well but there- there was a hefty chunk and i didn't know for sure if you all wanted to be tagged.

additional explanation: so if you haven't just read the fic instead of just scrolling down to the bottom to see what's up, hello. but even if you did just read the fic, let the record show that i myself did write this with the idea that lilly had a very early miscarriage. and it's why i added a tag just in case for it since i know some people avoid the subject matter for their own mental health. however i purposefully left it nebulous because she herself wouldn't know for sure and it's- the same result occurs either way, she is not pregnant and that wrecks her emotionally because she had put so much stock in the possibility that she would be. no matter what if she wasn't pregnant she was going to be sad and depressed and generally in a state of anguish. so, you can read this whichever way you want, it does not really change the intent/what happens afterward in this. but i didn't want to directly spoil all of you in the warnings especially since it causes a turning point of sorts, but i also don't want anyone to be in duress because of me. also i promise honestly these two have a happy ending, just trust me like y'all trusted me with professor presley, okay?

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x oc #big daddy elvis #big daddy and lil darlin' #elvis x lilly #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley smut #elvis fanfic #elvis fanfiction #spark universe #elvis x reader #crawfever adjacent #elvis #ally writes #tw: miscarriage

[be-my-ally]

The Morning After

I’ve been neck deep in smut and I wanted a short little break, I also was on such a roll with some other things (anons in my inbox - what you want is coming soon I promise) so this is a super short sweet one. A follow on/tidying up the morning after from ‘Do You Mind?’

For the prompt “Are you always this shy?”

warnings: none? I don’t think there’s any anyway - lmk if I’m wrong! oh wait. the tiniest reference to 'leading you on' which is obvs not ok. but makes sense in context.

wc: 1.1k - honestly, I'm just happy there's some words on the page.

as always!! thanks for the support + encouragement @whositmcwhatsit @thatbanditqueen @ellie-24 @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis

The next morning you wake up with Elvis still clutching at your waist, your head pillowed in the crook of his neck. You blink rapidly into his shoulder, trying to assess the situation. It’s unnerving, that you don’t feel more unnerved - you feel unmoored, uncertain of the day and what it has planned, unsure of how to navigate the situation you’ve found yourself in but ultimately, tucked in Elvis’ arms - you feel safe. Calm even. As you’re letting your mind wander his arm tightens around you, his hand squeezing your hip - you’re suddenly very aware that through the night his too-large-for-you shirt has risen up, leaving your lower half exposed in just your underwear. You wriggle, trying to tug it back down to a more respectable length but pause as his chest rumbles. He does a strange little half-cough, voice remarkably low and growly on the top of your head, 

“Are you always this shy?” You lean back a little to glance up at him, taking in the shadow on his chin and cheeks, barely resisting the urge to run your fingers over it. You’ve never even seen a photo of him with stubble. His eyes are still tightly closed, like he’s hopeful he might not actually have to wake up right now. 

“I’m not shy! I’m just - you’re practically a stranger.” You’re indignant on this point, not wanting him to think you were uncool and inexperienced or a massive prude. His fingers stroke your hip, absentmindedly, as if he has no idea he’s even doing it. He hums back at you, 

“Mmhmm, just a stranger, baby, that’s me.” You can hear the smile in his voice, see it lifting the corners of his mouth. He ducks his head lower, eyes blinking open - you’re taken aback at the blue of them in the hazy morning light, your throat dry with the sudden desire. “Just a stranger.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, gently, and you feel your face flush at the intimacy of the gesture. He pauses momentarily, before pulling his hand away and up to your neck, brushing up the side of your body to cup your face. He bends to press his lips against yours, jumping back like he’s been burnt when you jump in surprise and leap out of the bed. 

He laughs, his head falling back on the pillow as you stand there. “Lord. Normally the girls are desperate to get into my bed, not out-ta it.” You feel awkward, and embarrassed - you hadn’t even really wanted to jump out it was just instinct, it had just happened. His laugh though is infectious, and you find yourself giggling a little too. 

“I wasn’t - I didn’t mean to, I didn’t wanna get up!”  He smiles, eyes crinkling as he leans forward, his hair flopping over his eyebrows, looking like he’d been dragged through something backwards. You know he’s had plenty of women but as you look at him lounging in the bed so casual and carefree you have to wonder how many others he’s allowed to witness him like this. You pull his sleeves down over your hands, shuffling your feet, feeling further embarrassment at the strength of the affection you feel for him at just that thought. “Sorry - I didn’t -“ 

“No, No, I’m sorry - I should’ve checked you were - I shouldn’t have assumed.” You stare back at him as his tone turns serious, breaking eye contact with you to look to the side. 

“I was in your bed. I think it was a pretty safe assumption.” 

“Still I should’ve checked first.” You roll your eyes, slightly annoyed that your rash action was being taken so seriously - 

“Honestly, it’s my fault El, I just panicked for a second. I’m not - not ready to do anything much more than kiss at the moment, didn’t wanna give you the wrong impression. Lead you on.” You walk back over to the bed, his expression turns earnest as he pats the space next to him. 

“I ain’t gonna do nothing but kiss doll, swear it - haven’t got, motor ain’t running yet.” He pauses, as if hearing how that sounds, “Not that - I mean, I’d definitely wait for you to ask for that.” He grins, a mischievous expression coming over his face, curling his lip, “Beg for it.” You roll your eyes, 

“In your dreams.” You expect him to laugh, but he nods instead as if agreeing. You rapidly change the subject before he can say anything, lying back down next to him, “Right then. Kiss me.” This time he lets out another shocked laugh, shaking his head as he rolls over to lean on top of you.

“ ’S not a chore doll, is it? You could sound a lil more ‘nthusiastic!” You laugh, reaching up with a hand to cup his face, thumb brushing over his high cheekbone, the creases by his eye. 

“Kiss me and you’ll see how enthusiastic I can be.” You’re not sure where this confidence has come from, but you know you love the look in his eyes when he thinks you’re funny. He presses his lips to the corner of your mouth and you giggle as he completely misses, ending half on your cheek. He mumbles against your skin, 

“Stay still baby,” He moves to slot your mouths together properly and you immediately surge forward, hungry for it, desperate for it - despite your earlier reservations. You didn’t even think about the possibility of morning breath and you don’t now - opening your mouth, inviting him in. His teeth are catching on your lips nibbling on them and it feels unparalleled to any sensation you’ve ever experienced before. The softness of his famous pout, mixed with the gently harsh stubble on his cheeks, and the tug of his teeth on your soft skin. You pull away, 

“God - Elvis, you gotta, need you to,” You reach for his hand, pulling it to land on your stomach, He looks slightly shocked at your clear desire to have him effectively pin you down. 

“That ok?” You nod frantically, 

“Good god, yes, just, just keep going,” He rubs his fingers in a little circle, just barely tickling before he presses it palm down, resting on you. It’s heat seems to amplify everything you’re feeling - down to the little jolts of arousal when he tugs your lip just right.

 You have no idea if you’re making a noise, no idea if you’re even breathing. All you can feel, see, taste, hear is him. Finally his tongue slips in, you don’t fight him letting him straight in, do what he likes. You suddenly hear yourself the little moans and breathy grunts that you’re letting out when he pulls back enough to let them escape, and you gasp as he presses little wet open-mouthed kisses against your cheek. You’re lost to everything but the feel of him, heat thrumming through you as he captures your lips in his again.

He pulls back and you’re in a daze, unable to do anything but lie there and try to catch your breath, hoping to be left there for eternity. 

#elvis fanfic #elvis x reader #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley x reader #elvis x you #writing prompt game #elvis smut adjacent #this can't even be called smut lite #it's just kissing.

[darkwingsnark]

Koopa Valley AU

Just had a sudden thought. So you know how there are flower shop aus for Bowuigi? I thought of something like essentially a set up like Harvest Moon/Stardew Valley where maybe somebody the bros had rescued had died and in their will gave his farm to the bros.

Mario, of course, isn't exactly into it because of not really having the time for farming. Luigi, however, has always enjoyed gardening and thinks that retiring would be relaxing. The old man was a koopa that lives maybe on the borders of the kingdoms, maybe even IN the Koopa Kingdom. Either way, Luigi moves in and Bowser of course gets wind about a Mario Brother moving in on his turf. Bowser goes there at first and is ready to wreck havoc, get answers. Finding out the reasoning doesn't exactly make Bowser any less suspicious. But it's enough to give him pause. After all, the place was a koopa property. He'll have his people look into it, keep a word out for anything suspicious. he will NOT let them try and play some ploy for Mario. Guy sucks at scheming anyway! Why would he just leave his weak defenseless bro out in HIS territory?? Makes no sense!

Well time goes on, and word has been that Luigi has become more settled in the small town in that part of the area. People seem to absolutely love him. Not a single bad word, and his spies can't see him doing anything suspicious. Just him and his ghost dog... living on a farm. Again, what the heck? So are you to tell me the guy just upped and everything just because an old koopa asked him to look after the place? Just like that? It's so... thoughtful, disgustingly so. I think what would make the AU work would be if around that area there has already been problems. Maybe farmers in that area had already been struggling? Even with being so far from the volcano, not enough sun? Or, because they're so far away from volcanic activity koopa crop can't thrive there. Luigi, however, has been using his time to experiment. See what from both kingdoms works. And he's starting to thrive, actually doing REALLY well? It's Bowser who has the idea of taking a gamble. On one hand it gives him an excuse to personally check in on things, and two, it might actually be useful. Bowser makes an agreement to personally fund Luigi's farm, in exchange to it going towards the people in the outskirts of his kingdom. He will give money, he will send workers. Give Luigi more land, whatever is needed. And Luigi, instead of feeling intimidated by the prospects of being under Bowser's control, as the king expects some hesitancy, cause duh-- instead Luigi surprises him by his eagerness and jumps at the offer. He not only gets to help in a way he usually doesn't feel, but not having to struggle with money would also be a bonus. After all, his experiments have quickly been depleting his funds. And thus, a partnership is born. That of course isn't the end. As Luigi becomes even more a part of the village and its surrounding area, Luigi becomes more involved in the community aspect. He starts finding himself partaking and learning about Koopa holidays and their cultures. And Luigi writes letters to the king giving updates. Not something Bowser asked of him, as he planned on having his own men report everything. But Bowser ends up going from amused by the friendly non-professional aspect of how Luigi writes, to full on getting eager for the updates. And eventually a time comes when Luigi ends up inviting Bowser to one of the festivals. After all, the king should see the fruits of their shared labor. ['That's a joke, Bowser. Heh. Cause we've been growing fruits and veggies. Get it?'] And that becomes a thing. Bowser gets invited more and more, and he comes to actually think of the weird little noodle human as a friend.

Of course eventually it can lead to more, but that’s what I was thinking for a potential setup. What do you guys think? Again, same as the Doctor AU stuff, I don’t personally have time outside of maybe doing some pics. [Too busy with Melodies in Motion.] But throwing this out into the universe anyway.

#bowuigi #super mario bros #bowser #luigi mario #stardew valley au #koopa valley au #fanfiction #adjacent anyway

[backofhismomsmercury]

backofhismomsmercury spencer reid nsfw alphabet coming ur way soon.. lol

#im having sm fun making this #idk its just fun to write smut adjacent #anyways #back to work i go #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader

[televised-eyes]

here’s a few of my current favorite fluffy fanfics of the ineffable husbands as requested by @goodomensduh !

Cosy Preening by canadiankazz

Aziraphale preens and massages Crowley's wings in their South Downs Cottage. That's it. :)

Familiaris Ground by inflappible

A tale of how two immortal beings accidentally resulted in the domestication of modern dogs.

Drinking Buddies and Diaries by dove_dove

“I read the books about you,” Muriel said matter-of-factly.

Crowley wasn’t following. “The books about me?”

“The letter books to Aziraphale’s friend Diary? You must know them. They must be an angel, but I don’t think I’ve ever met them before.”

Crowley coughed heavily. “You’ve read Aziraphale’s diary?”

#good omens #gomens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale #crowley #anthony j crowley #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic recs #fluff #fluff adjacent at least #some dramatic elements but happy endings