#i also get a less deeper voice an stuff!!

[angelwithdemonictendencies]

he set my house on fire, you lit my heart ablaze; when the smoke cleared, you stayed, coughing up ash with me.

jh86 x reader: the revenge plot doesn't go as planned (ft. ex-fiance am34).

(warnings: blasphemous filth (it's on the tamer side, i think), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), spit and descriptions of bodies and stuff like that, hair pulling (big fan), lots of talk about toxic relationships and being mean and using people and sad moments (we can thank this fictional am34 for that), oh, and slight bullying of tz11). idk just please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: hello, favorites. thank you so, so much for your patience and softness. today i bring you a story that took me so, so long because i worked so, so hard on it (and it's really long! 14k worth). we have checked all the boxes: terrible ex-fiance am34, sweet boy jh86, schemes and plots and the like. no, i don't think any of these characters are like this in real life. no, nobody acts like this, but it's getting colder, so i think a lot of us are craving that gentle domesticity. and yes, i wish someone had shown up with flowers after i finished undergrad midterms. there's probably a ton of plot holes but shh! don't tell anyone. also tried out a new format, the smut is in the middle instead of the end, let me know how you feel about that. anyways, i miss you and i love you and i think of you often and fondly. i hope you and your snakes are doing well and knowing what you deserve and accepting nothing less. let me know what you think, what you want next, etc. go canucks, of course. oh, and no, i do not think it's a coincidence that all the guys i write about are having a great season so far (except the ducks that refuse to play). how could it be? definitely a causal connection. all my love to you. until next time).

since you were a young girl, you had known that your greatest motivation, your deepest truth, perhaps your fatal flaw, was just how deeply you felt.

when you were little, that meant tears came easily, anger festered like weeds in a prized garden, and happiness felt like flying.

it also meant you could read others' emotions almost as clearly as your own.

it made you different, it made you a good friend, it made you the person you were. for much of your life, you had made peace with the fact that your well of emotions went deeper than others. you had loved that part of yourself, even.

but the night you broke off your engagement to auston matthews, you wanted nothing more than for everything you were feeling to disappear, to evaporate into the air as if it had never been.

"you couldn't've at least tried to hide it from me?" you had said, willing your fragile voice not to break.

and he had sat at the kitchen counter, that massive body on the stool that you had carefully selected for the house that you shared, that you thought you would share forever. and he had sighed, sounded almost annoyed. "would that have made it better, angel?"

his indifference coated your bones like lead paint. that name, once one you felt would call you out of a coma, would lead you out of hell like a northern star, now felt like nothing but a condescending, patronizing taunt. silly, stupid angel, the god might as well have said, how could you think you could ever be enough?

understanding settled like ash on your eyelashes. "you think i'll forgive you," you said, little more than a whisper. "you think i won't leave."

he scoffed at that, then. at you. "and go where?" he asked, sounding almost genuine. "where do you have to go?"

how superficially he knew you, it seemed, at that moment. how had you not seen this before?

"you honestly think i could ever look at you the same?" you asked.

he shrugged, his shoulders so imposing, stature so suddenly frightening. a body you knew better than your own, suddenly foreign. a ghost. "maybe differently, but still looking," he said, "your eyes have only ever followed me, angel."

and maybe he was right, but you were done proving him so.

"send my things to my parents' place," you said, cold, devoid of anything. emotion welled up in you like a flood, but you froze it before it could crest through your mouth, come out like some mythical fire-breathing dragon. you slipped off your ring, placed it on the counter.

you didn't feel lighter without it, though. you felt so devastatingly heavy, like cinder blocks were tied to your ankles, like liquid stone filled your head.

"are you kidding?" he asked. to your silence, careful pause, he tilted his head, shook it once. "you're just gonna quit?"

your hands were shaking. you could feel rage rattle through your body, shake your bones. you clenched your fist so tightly you wondered if blood would drip from your palms, stain the light hardwood floor that you had spent so long deciding on. "how dare you," you said, begging your quivering lip to still.

his smirk was cruel. "not like it matters," he mused. "you've never been able to quit me."

you had seen him mean. on the ice, sometimes to journalists, sometimes to fans, sometimes to you, even. but this was past mean. this was past elementary bullying, past joking insults that don't land. he was trying to call your bluff, trying to push you into forgiveness, trying to hurt you.

"watch me," you said, your voice made of ancient rock.

"are you mad because she's hotter than you?" he asked, his brow contorted in false concern. "is that it?"

despite yourself, a small smile pulled at your mouth. a smile that made your eyes glitter. a smile that should have scared him. a warning.

"she is beautiful," you conceded, because she was. what good would it do you to deny that? you approached him, then, in his personal space for what you believed would be the last time. he turned to you, your eyes meeting in a clash, like sword on sword. cruel, brutal arrogance and pure, pretty wrath. you held the side of his face in one palm, the other hand resting on his shoulder. "but when a beautiful person hits on me, auston, i say no."

his eyes flickered down to your mouth, simmering with lust. you laughed at this, at him, raw and true, let pity soak your tone like acid. "i'm not mad at her, auston," you admitted truthfully. "i'm not even mad at you." you patted his cheek, perhaps a little harder than you needed to. "i'm just so disappointed."

that had been weeks ago. you had moved back to the states, so embarrassed on the plane at how you couldn't stop the tears from flowing, until finally you were back with your parents in new jersey. they had welcomed you so warmly, so easily. it had taken a few weeks for the tears to finally slow, for the utter devastation to fade, for your red eyes to brighten again.

at first, it had been hard to remember anything but how his embrace felt like home, how tightly he hugged you after games, how his eyes shone when he laughed, how he had teared up when you had accepted his proposal, how he had gushed about picking the right ring.

but as the sadness faded, as it festered into something much more serious, you remembered less of the fairytale moments, less of his perfect smile, less of the "pretty girl" utterances in his rough bedroom rasp. soon the sadness gave way to steely rage, to an almost bloodthirsty need for revenge. for him to hurt the way he had hurt you.

and no one does bloodthirsty like a group of university-age girls. after catching up with your childhood friends, and getting them caught up on your situation, you looked at your confidants with eager eyes. "what do i do?"

your best friend from high school spoke first, banging her fist on the table. "burn his house down?" she offered. "steal his dog?"

her friend from college put a gentle hand over her fist, "i think for now we try to avoid the federal crimes," she said, then turned to you. "when my ex cheated on me, i got with the lead singer of his favorite band." her eyes shimmered. "and then bought his dream car and wrapped it pink."

you giggled in delight. "oh, you're good."

your childhood friend nodded. "phycological warfare." she looked at you. "who's his idol?"

you thought for a moment, tapped your fingers on the table. "i don't know if idol is what i should be going for," you thought out loud.

"who's someone who would make him uncomfortable? insecure?"

"his dad!" your friend said, making you shake in a laugh.

"his biggest insecurity is the spotlight leaving and not coming back," you told them. you had known that for a long time.

"being forgotten?" your friend asked.

"being replaced," you said, your eyes widening with understanding. "with someone better. more promising." you shared a look with your friends, felt anger solidify into a plan. into hope.

"you look like you have someone in mind."

a memory flashed across your mind like a shooting star, engulfed in flame.

"how was the game, aus?" you had asked when he got home, stirring the pot of soup on the stove.

you heard some kind of grumble as he dropped his things in the mudroom, made his way into the kitchen.

"what's wrong?" you asked when you met his eyes, sensing something wrong like smoke in the air.

"just this young kid," he muttered. "'s nothing, really."

and you knew then that it wasn't just nothing, because he never tried to hide things from you, to diminish his feelings, unless it was really bothering him.

you turned the stove off, approached him, wrapped your arms around his middle and hugged him tight. "who's this new kid?" you asked, muffled by his chest.

his arms pulled your closer, tighter. this had always been where you felt warmest, safest. "some h name," he muttered. "hicks? hughes, maybe?"

you smiled into his chest, knowing him, and knowing he would never have forgotten the name of this kid. knowing auston matthews never forgets people who make him feel like anything other than the world's brightest star.

"whoever he is, probably just had the game of his life," you had said, your voice a comforting lullaby. you had pressed yourself up on your tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "nothing to worry about, yeah?"

he had smiled back at you, but something dark had swirled behind his gaze. something like knowing, like ominous understanding, like an empire, falling. "already forgotten, angel," he had said, but you knew, even then, that he was lying.

the memory fizzed and dissolved like baking soda in vinegar.

you looked at your friends and smiled. "what do you guys know about jack hughes?"

from there it was surprisingly easy to shift from a tangent line outside jack hughes's circle to someone inside of it. you were patient, too, careful not to rush. you wouldn't settle for anything less than perfect, after all, refused to enact any plan that wouldn't end in exactly the revenge you sought.

one of the other wags from toronto, whom you had grown close to, insisted on helping, giving you the numbers of some friends close to the devils.

"i'm honestly so, so proud of you for leaving," she had told you over the phone, her voice nothing but genuine, knowing. "all of us, we all knew you were way too good for him."

"did you?" you asked, maybe a little shocked. having been so completely deceived, so absolutely blind, for so long, it was interesting that others had not been as deluded as you. to hear their perspective, to see what you had not been able to before.

"sweetheart," she said, gently, "everyone who meets you can see that you're good. that you deserve someone good." there was a pause. "and everyone also sees that he was never that."

you let her words settle like glitter on a childhood craft. "thank you," you said. "i miss you."

"we miss you so much. see you soon?"

you agreed, thanked her for her help.

"i hope he's good," were her closing words. "maybe better, at least."

having started classes with your old friends, intent on finishing the degree you had so quickly and thoughtless abandoned for auston, you had ample time to plot.

"feels like we're in a spy movie, or something," your friend had said excitedly.

"we'll be your guys in the chair," the other chimed in. "here the whole way."

the rest of the initial plan came easily, with the help of the people who were on your side, which you quickly learned was a group made up of more people than you thought.

very soon, it was time for step one, and you were in front of your mirror, having just finished getting ready, your friends by your side.

you took a deep breath. "what if this isn't a good idea?" you whispered.

they squeezed at your hands. "no going back now, okay? we'll be there the whole time."

"what if he's not interested?"

"look at yourself," one of them said, "don't be stupid."

"what is he thinks i'm a crazy stalker?"

your oldest friend shrugged, her eyes full of mischief. "what if you are?"

so you found yourself at a dingy, run down bar, the lights low. according to your contacts, this was where the team and their friends came after home games.

when was the last time you had come to a bar looking for something? for someone? it felt distantly familiar, but so strange, like hearing a language you spoke as a child but that hadn't graced your tongue in decades.

you had been with auston for years, after all, having met him when you were 19, him 23. a whirlwind, a tornado, a perfect tempest of pink dust and white teeth. a proposal two years later, a break off a year further.

you were 22 now, and had never felt further from your nineteen-year-old self. a foolish child, a delicate doll, a phantom cloaked in a desperate desire for acceptance, for love.

you didn't know how to flirt in this new body, new being. you didn't even really know to how flirt with anyone but auston - it had been so long since you wanted anyone else. and you didn't even really want jack, at this point. you just wanted justice.

a cluster of motion and noise behind you ripped you from your thoughts. you didn't turn, though, just stirred your drink, let the liquid settle again until you could see yourself in the reflection. until you could make out your eyes, until you could plead with your mouth to tell you what to say.

a game, the beautiful girl mouthed to you, a secret code, it's only a game.

your hazy eyes caught on a pool table in the corner of the bar, vacant, the lamp above it flickering. you smiled to yourself, made your way over, picked out a cue, ran your fingers along the edge of it.

you took a sip of your drink before setting it down, lining yourself up to break. with a swift, even motion, a pleasant cracking noise rung out, colorful balls moving in different directions.

you scrunched up your nose, having sunk none initially, gracefully lining up to go again when you felt a few figures approach.

the first one who spoke, the one right next to you, was not someone you recognized. you didn't even think he was on the team, but he had the build of a hockey player, probably a quick center.

"need a private lesson, there, sugar?" he asked sleazily, his voice the arrogant drawl of a child, almost endearing in its steadiness. he leaned on the table as you looked up at him, straightened, tilted your head to rest against the cue.

"awful kind of you, coach of the year," you teased before nodding to the other person who had joined you, looming across the table like a shadow. "gonna help me beat your friend?"

your new coach scoffed, ran a hand through his long, unruly hair. "trust me, sugar," he said, "you don't need any help beating him."

you locked eyes with the figure across the table, whom you had only seen before on a screen, the one you had heard about in the arms of your ex-fiance. here he was, the soft contours of his face shimmering in the dim light. the mythical and heroic jack hughes, the shaker of the unshakeable auston matthews.

he was shorter than you expected. "not much of a competitor, is he?" you asked the man next to you, talking about jack as if he wasn't right there. as if you hadn't been looking at him the entire time. "doesn't like to play?"

you tilted your head, dared him with your eyes to prove you wrong. the familiar fire of flirtation, of the chase you hadn't engaged with in years flared when he took a step out of the shadows, letting you see him clearly and up close.

during your research, you had seen pictures of him, but they didn't do him even a semblance of justice. he was gorgeous in a fairytale prince sort of way, like he might save the day with a true love's kiss at any moment. his eyes were a striking blue, his nose almost dainty, his jaw angular. your gaze caught on his full mouth before finally landing on his eyes again. he had the kind of complexion and expression you could tell lit up when he smiled. your stomach twisted at the thought. a game, you repeated in your mind. only a game.

"i'll play," he said simply, his voice goofy in a way you weren't used to. not sleazy, like his friend, who was currently behind you while you bent forward, lining up the cue. it wasn't the classic baritone you were used to hearing in auston, but something more cautious, something sweeter.

the game progressed, each of you sinking shots with the tell-tale soft thud. it was his long-haired friend, the one who kept calling you sugar like you were some southern belle, who was much closer to you, who was adjusting your hips and arm placement before each turn, who was flirting with you so openly, his breath hot on your neck, his gaze open and obvious.

even then, a quick exchange of glances with jack felt much more intimate than any innuendo-filled comment and fumbling touch from his friend. whenever jack would sink a ball, his eyes would flutter up to meet yours in a fleeting catch of flame, of promise, of knowing.

with only a few balls still on the green felt of the table, his careful voice broke you from your trance. "what are we playing for?" he asked, eyes alight.

the look you shared was teasing, probing, yet deadly serious. this is everything, the look said. are you ready to give everything?

"how about this?" you began, your tone light and smoky. "if you win, you get my number." his full mouth quirked upwards in the slightest of smirks. "and if i win, i give it to him," you finished, nodding towards his sugar-spewing friend.

jack looked at his friend. "good with you, z?" he asked.

his friend, z, you guessed, let a cocky smirk drape across his face like velvet curtains. "more than good," he said, "as we're gonna win."

with the stakes agreed upon, the game continued until only the eight ball remained. you lined yourself up, your ever-so-involved coach just next to you as you called your pocket.

"have a game, sugar, here we go."

you ignored his friend's voice, lining your cue up perfectly, the smooth wood resting delicately between your fingers, the angle of your arm and neck smooth and sensual. everything about your preparation lent itself to a winning strike, everyone at the table knew it. you could feel it in z's early celebration, see it in the slight quiver of jack's hand.

bent over the table, in the final seconds before your strike, you peered up at jack through dark lashes, all dim light and foggy promise. you gave him a sly smirk as you followed through, the black and white ball missing the pocket by an inch, hitting the side of the table with a soft sound.

jack narrowed his eyes at you with a curious sort of look before quickly calling his pocket and immediately sinking the ball.

his friend sucked on his teeth before throwing up his hands in defeat. "christ, sugar, didn't take you for a choke artist," he said. "unless you're into that." he shot you a wink before heading off to grab a drink.

for the first time, it was just you and jack. you leaned on your cue, let your gaze fall over him lazily, in the same way you knew he was doing to you. he was close now, close enough that you could see how blue his eyes were, how long his lashes, how high and soft his features, how his hair was just a little too long on the sides.

"you let me win," he said, a gentle observation, not anything accusatory.

you smiled. "prove it," you said, to which a matching smile graced his own face.

"must be my lucky night, then," he said as he handed you his phone and you typed your number in.

you laughed. "i don't know," you mused, "you seem like a guy who's used to getting what he wants." and he did seem like that - who could say no to those pretty eyes?

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, a motion you tracked. "'m a guy used to earning what he wants," he corrected, and you hummed. a distinction that auston had never made, even though he worked hard, sure. but he was a natural. what would it be like to be with someone to whom everything didn't come just so, so, easily?

"like to work for it, hm?" you teased.

his gaze dropped to your mouth for a second before returning to your eyes.

you stepped forward, pushed and poked at the imaginary line between the two of you. you looked up at him, gently swiped at his cheekbone with your thumb, felt heat rumble between the two of you, something volcanic. "don't work yourself too hard, yeah?"

without a second glance, you placed your cue against the table, grabbed your bag and made for the door.

on your way out, you overhead the conversation that had erupted in your exit.

"i was the one talking to her the whole time," that long-island-ish drawl said.

"if you think she was into you for even a second, you're an idiot," jack replied.

you swore the door was chuckling as it shut behind you.

everything had gone exactly as you'd hoped, exactly as you'd known it would, so you weren't at all surprised to receive a text the next day asking if you were around that night to get a drink.

so you found yourself at a different bar, this one a bit more upscale, quickly spotting jack as he waited for you outside. you blew out a breath as you approached, as a smile made his face glow. it was still so new to find someone else beautiful. when would you get used to his imperfect teeth, his oceanic eyes, his feminine nose, this greek sculpture opposed to autson's roman one?

you blinked. "hi," you said, suddenly feeling lame.

his mouth quirked. "hey." he opened the door for you, nodded. "after you."

"i'm gonna warn you," you started as you ducked past him and into the building. "i haven't been on a date in a while."

he shoved his hands in his pockets, a juvenile habit that made you blush. "find that hard to believe," he said, his tone playful. "pretty girl like yourself."

you scrunched up your nose at that. pretty girl. auston had called you that so many times, but for the first time you actually thought about its meaning. something flipped in your stomach at jack calling you pretty, but it was the girl part that had you pausing for a moment.

you were a girl, pretty much, you were jack's age, but you hadn't felt like one in so long. maybe it was being with someone a little older, but you felt almost ancient, so tired, so drained. but here you were, on a date, every bit the pretty girl he had deemed you.

you just laughed, taking a seat at the counter, smoothing out your dress against your legs. "real sweet talker, are you?" you joked, turning to him and meeting his eyes.

his mouth quirked like he knew something you didn't. "somethin' like that," he said.

the night went by fast, conversation flowing easily, no sign of pressure or anything of the like. you asked about his career, what he did that day, his family, his friends. he made you laugh, and it came so easily, so fluidly. he asked you about what you liked to do, what you were studying in school, how you were enjoying jersey.

surprisingly, you found yourself wanting to be completely honest with him, even though you couldn't be. you found yourself wanting to tell him everything, to answer any question he asked, to never leave him wishing or wanting even for a second.

you got hung up on the curve of his upper lip, on the slope of his shoulders under his button down, on his girlish laugh, his firefly of a smile.

the night was over too soon. too soon, you had the sinking feeling that you were in over your head, that perhaps you had chosen the wrong person for your revenge plot. you wanted to hurt auston, after all, but not yourself. certainly not this shimmery spark of a boy in front of you.

he walked you out, both of you pausing outside the bar, under the dull streetlight, a theatre spotlight for your praiseworthy performance.

you turned to look at him, and him at you, sinking into each others' gazes like quicksand, the air thick with expectation.

"i don't kiss on the first date," you blurted out, talking to his lips, talking to yourself.

he smiled, his shoulders rumbling in a laugh. "'s okay," he breathed, "like to work for it, remember, baby?"

you shook your head as your cheeks erupted in a delighted rosy flush. "goodnight, jack," you said, your voice every bit the giveaway. he returned the sentiment with a knowing grin.

the next day, you invited your girls over to watch him play. as you all settled on the couch, a homemade cocktail in your hand, you couldn't help but hide your face when the camera lingered on his profile during the anthem.

one of your friends gave a mock-salute. "god bless america," she said, shaking her head as you threw a pillow at her.

"alright," you chastised.

"what?" she asked, raising a brow, "just appreciating the wonderful offerings of our country."

your other friend shook her head. "you don't usually go for guys like him, eh?" she asked. "i mean, ever since we were in middle school you always went for the guys with biceps bigger than my face." she held her hands in front of her face for visualization.

"'s not like he's tiny," you said, almost embarrassed.

"no, no," she amended, "but he's no auston. he's just, i don't know, pretty."

you smiled, knowing exactly what she meant. auston was so masculine in every way, and jack was softer, somehow, pretty in a way you didn't usually go for.

pretty in a way that made you smile at your phone when he texted you the next day, asking if he could cook you dinner later that week.

you were blushing to yourself, the morning of, after he had texted you asking if you had any dietary restrictions.

and you didn't, but wasn't it just the sweetest, most thoughtful thing to ask? would you have even thought to ask?

i want you to be comfortable, his text said, i want you to laugh with your mouth full in my kitchen.

careful, angel, a deep voice called from the back of your mind, from the inside of your teeth. this is about me, remember?

your fingers twitched with the reminder as you stood on his front stoop, waiting for jack to answer the bell. the air had a brisk twinge of a chill to it, a chill that had your nose turning pink and your feet stiffening in your boots.

but he answered the door, and the breath you blew out rose between the two of you like a misty curtain, one you resented, because it distorted your view of him, even just so.

the mist settled, and his smile was left in its wake.

a smile that silenced all the gossiping voices in your head, left the throne of their malevolent king vacant, abandoned.

"you're here," he breathed, almost like he couldn't believe it, like he couldn't believe you.

"and it's your fault," you teased, scrunching up your nose.

he shook his head, laughed at some joke in his mind, stepped aside. "you must be freezing, baby, come in."

the butterflies in your chest soared as he helped you shoulder off your coat, his fingers leaving just a ghost of a touch on your wrist, the back of your neck, leaving scorched skin behind. you shivered, took in his graceful figure hanging your coat up on a hook by the door, let a smile come easily to your face when he turned back to you.

"what?" he said, grinning.

you let out a half-laugh. "nothing," you said, looking around as you kicked your shoes off. anything to avoid the white-hot light of his undivided attention. "i like your place."

and you did like it, truly, it was just so unexpected. homely, not cluttered, but definitely not the modern, futuristic, almost barren aesthetic you can come to associate with successful hockey players.

he flashed you a shy smile as he led you into the kitchen, bowing his head, making his hair fall into his face, almost bashful. "it likes you too," he told you, swinging his hand up to hit the top of the doorframe like a basketball-obsessed middle-schooler. you bit your lip to stop your grin.

what a pleasure it was to get to know all the most intricate and intimate manners of someone new.

"everything's almost done, now," he said, quickly turning off the stovetop and peering through the glass of the oven.

his tone was much more at ease then when you had talked to him before. he was at home here, and you could tell. he wore home like a hand-me-down sweater, too big in the shoulders and worn in the elbows, but lovely and familiar in all of its comfort.

you sat atop a stool at his counter, nervously rubbing the sole of one foot into the top of the other. "thanks for cooking, jack," you said, "you really didn't have to do anything fancy, or anything." suddenly, sitting here in this space, surrounded by the evidence of his effort, you felt guilt settle deeply into your body. unworthiness, perhaps, of the smell of food in the air, of the drink he had poured for you so gently, of the smile he kept throwing your way.

that voice in your head huffed. look at all this, he said, look at the burden you are.

and you were feeling it, so heavily, until jack took a sip of his own drink and waved you off, furrowing his brow as if confused. "'s how a date works, right, baby?" he said. he tilted his head, teasing, "tellin' me no one's ever pulled out all the stops for you?"

and you laughed, shook your head, because you supposed it was, supposed no one really had.

you got to know each other even better over the meal he had cooked, surprising you once again with how easy everything felt between you.

"tell me what you did today," he might say, his voice soft, muffled from chewing.

and you might tell him about your classes, how midterms were coming up, how you were nervous but felt pretty good about most of them.

maybe then you would ask about practice that morning, to which he would tell you some story about his teammates, how they were giving it to him all morning.

"why?" you might ask, to which he would look up at you with that bashful flush.

"'cause they knew you were coming over tonight," he admitted, pushing broccoli around his plate. "kept saying how i was probably gonna make you a box of kraft or something."

you laughed, a genuine rumble from deep in your chest, tilting your head back. when you looked back at him, he was looking at you with something like wonder.

and maybe later, you would ask what his favorite part of his house was, and he would say it was his wall of framed pictures, which would make you melt a little bit, your heart a puddle of feeling.

too soon, you were setting down your fork and knife, crossing and uncrossing your legs in restlessness.

"did you like it?" he would ask, his voice so full of hope it could have killed you.

so full of hope that you reached across the counter to hold his hand in yours, if only for a moment, to squeeze his fingers in meaningful emphasis.

your touch caught him by surprise, hesitant for a moment before locking eyes with you, simmering, then squeezing your hand back in his warm, callused grip.

a grip that said i'm no natural, but i'll work for it. for you.

"it was perfect," you said honestly, because it was. "but please, please let me do the dishes," you pleaded, looking at him through your lashes, just wanting to do something to help.

it would feel so wrong to be doted on for the whole night while giving nothing in return. at the very least, it would feel foreign.

he shook his head playfully, but relented. "you can help," he conceded, "but 'm not letting a pretty girl clean up my mess by herself."

you scoffed with a smile, squeezed his hand a final time before pushing yourself off of your stool, gathering all the plates and glasses in a single go.

"where'd you learn how to do that?" he asked, genuinely, as he followed you to the sink.

you carefully set everything down in a graceful swoop, let your lips quirk upwards in nostalgia. "once a waitress, always a waitress," you explained, referring to your short-lived stint at a busy restaurant in toronto before auston insisted on you staying home.

and at the time, even a little now, it was a sweet gesture, one you had taken as him wanting you to relax, wanting you to have the freedom to do whatever you wanted with your days.

you just secretly wished he had considered that what you wanted to do with your days was working, going to school, doing something for yourself.

jack leaned on the edge of the counter, his lopsided grin like an electric jolt to your heart. "what, did they show you the door 'cause you were making all the tips?" he teased, nevertheless making you blush as you washed the plates with soap. "not fair for everyone else, 's that it?"

you gasped in dramatic accusation, flicking sudsy water from your fingers his direction. "how dare you?" you exclaimed before turning away from him in a huff, feigning sadness. "'s not like i can control this face."

his mouth widened in shock, then took on a scheme-filled smile as soon as the water hit him, a short laugh escaping him. "you didn't," he said, dipping his hand in the soap and flinging some at you.

you squealed, holding your hands up to shield your face as he reached in for more, bubbles filling both of his palms. "wait, jack, i'm sorry!" you laughed. "i swear, i didn't mean to!"

"liar," he cooed, his gaze sparking like a lighter, you swore you could hear the clicking sound. then he was right in front of you, only a breath apart, so close you swore you could feel the beat on his heart in your own chest.

he reached down and gently held your face in his hands, the soap now all along your jaw and cheeks.

you closed your eyes for a second, sighed in defeat, still so aware of him so close, of his touch, feather-light on you skin.

when they opened again, you both had not moved, frozen in place, perhaps willed by the moment, compelled by the growing sensation of rightness, of being exactly where you were supposed to be. when he spoke, he was speaking to your lips, dragging his gaze back up to your eyes like it weighed something stark.

"do you kiss on the second date?" he breathed, and your breath caught, your heart stuttering at his utter politeness, his thoughtfulness, the idea that he remembered things you had told him.

you bit your tongue, because, if you were being honest, you usually didn't - you took the rule of threes very personally. you liked to take your time, savored that lovely period of what could be. besides, you had learned the hard way what happened when you let people in your life too quickly, too hastily. you knew all too well that giving in to a toothy smile and a sleeve of tattoos only led to shrugs met with tears.

but here, now, with jack's soapy hands on your face, in the space he had so warmly accepted you into, you had the feeling this boy in front of you was going to be an exception. that he would be an exception for many things, perhaps the exception.

as if hearing your internal dialogue loud and clear, he dipped his head down until he was impossibly close, so when he spoke you could feel the words on your lips.

"please let me kiss you, baby," he pleaded, his eyes hooded and heavy, his voice a rasp.

deciding he was an exception indeed, you answered him by pressing up on your toes, meeting his mouth with yours in a kiss that bruised.

and later, you would think about how auston had never been a please let me kiss you man, instead he had been a give me a kiss, angel kind of guy.

after, you would think about how it felt so much more personal, so much more sweet to be asked please, can i instead of being ordered give me, give me, give me, like a demanding, red-faced child.

later, you would think about how the previous kisses in your life paled in comparison to the feeling of jack's lips on yours. how before this moment, you were used to kisses that felt like transactions, like the necessary box being checked before the next step, how they felt like being swallowed.

after, you would swoon over all the details and nuances, but, right now, there was nothing but his lips, his hands, the way he melted into you and practically whimpered when you kissed him harder.

kissing him didn't feel like being swallowed, it felt like taking the biggest deep breath of your life after slowly suffocating for years. you forgot you had soap bubbles all over your face, you forgot about auston, you forgot about everything - there was only him, and you, in this moment.

he held your face like you were something precious, moving one hand into your hair as you wrapped your arms around his neck. he tasted like lemon and rosemary, as well as something so deliciously him you could feel yourself become addicted immediately.

his grip in your hair was soft, and when his lips moved against yours it felt like melting snow in the warmth of the morning, pure and sweet and natural and right. kissing him felt like waking up with sunlight streaming through the windows, like laughing while taking your makeup off, like cinnamon and clove and home.

when you pulled away from him, only just slightly, both of you catching your breath heavily, he opened his eyes slowly, almost reluctantly. his eyes were almost glazed over, and you had a feeling yours looked in a similar way, syrupy and hot.

he gently swiped his thumb along your swollen bottom lip as if testing to make sure you were real, not just some shadow, not just a dream.

you traced your nails along his neck, smiled as he brought his hands down to wrap around your middle, resting them on the small of your back.

"god, you're just so fucking pretty, aren't you?" he breathed, like a revelation.

you swore he had your head spinning for days after, days you unfortunately and cruelly had to spend apart due to a week-long road trip for the team.

you told yourself it was a good thing that he was going away for a bit, as it would give you a second to regroup, to revaluate, to familiarize yourself with what your initial goal was for your plan. you reminded yourself over the week apart that jack was a means to an end, that whatever had blossomed between the two you had a finish line, that all of it was meant to make a point, then hopefully leave this whole hockey world behind after the damage had been done.

but then one of your girls would throw on the game, and jack's expressive face would fill the screen, chewing on the fingers of his gloves during warm ups, and your heart would sink at the thought of leaving him behind. and it just about combusted at the idea that you were using him, even though that's exactly what you were doing.

you've only been on two dates with him, only kissed once, you reminded yourself. he's probably seeing other people, anyways, probably with some other girl right now. it's not like you're exclusive. this is probably not a big deal to him.

the thought was comforting but also devastating, a brick in your stomach.

while he was away, midterms came and went. as you walked into your last one, you thought about maybe texting jack after, trying to get together tonight, since he would finally be back.

then your pen hit the paper and time passed in a blur.

you exited the lecture hall in a flurry of relief and pride, happy to have accomplished something so concrete, something that you had truly worked hard on.

walking down the stairs outside of the entrance, your smile stilled, frozen in shock, when you looked up from your feet and saw a familiar, beautiful figure leaning against his car, an excited grin on his face, flowers in his grip as he locked eyes with you, making your breath catch.

"is that jack hughes?" some kid from your class said altogether too loudly to his friend. you had seen that same kid wearing devils gear more than once.

his friend didn't look up from his phone. "who's jack hughes?" he replied.

you couldn't stop your disbelieving laugh, your smile, already making your cheeks sore as you finished descending the stairs, until you were in front of him, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him in for a hug before you even realized what you were doing.

this was so unlike you, really, letting yourself feel as deeply as you could without filtering it, but anything else would have felt so wrong it could have killed you. especially when he brought his arms around you without even a second's hesitation, held you tight and close, so you could feel the petals of the flowers on the back of your neck.

"you're here," you said, breathlessly, still shocked, into his firm chest.

"had to make it back for your last test," he said into your hair, both of you not wanting to let go.

"how did you know?" you murmured, pulling away from him, only slightly.

he loosened his embrace, pulled away to get a look at you, let his eyes run over you carefully, indulgently. he pushed your hair back from your face, his touch gentle, like you were a relic, something worth treasuring. "you said so, last week," he said simply, like it was obvious.

he said it as if, for years of your life, you had wished and yearned so reverently for auston to remember the little things, like your coffee order, like the dates on which your parents were coming to visit, like your anniversary.

he said it as if it didn't mean the entire world that he had listened, that he had remembered.

you only leaned into his chest, looked up at him with something seriously dangerous in your eyes, something that was not supposed to be there. "'d you bring me flowers, jack?" you asked, a playful note in your tone.

he flushed, so lovely, hid his face behind the bouquet, peeking only one deep blue eye out, as if embarrassed. "too much?" he asked, still shielding his face.

you laughed, squeezed his bicep lightheartedly. "just enough," you assured him, your eyes full of meaning, willing him to lower his shield, let you see the face you had been dreaming of all week. "thank you. i missed you."

you would have told him that a thousand times just to see the way his whole face lit up, like he could never hide how happy your words made him. he wore the late afternoon sunshine like a dream, the dewy rays dripping down his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, slow and golden as honey.

he had this way of making you feel like you were first choice, every time, and it was so foreign that you hadn't known you had been craving it until he had laid it at your feet like an offering. every time he texted you to check in, to ask how your day was, to finalize plans, it would send a flurry of butterflies swarming your chest, a rosy flush to the bridge of your nose.

he was so, so beautiful, inside and out, that you effectively forgot what the whole point of your plan was in the first place. you basically had forgotten about it, that day that he dragged you along with some of his friends to pick out a christmas tree.

"do i know any of these friends?" you had asked on the way up, riding shotgun, reaching over periodically to run your nails along his neck, just below his hairline, your way of saying i'm happy you're here. and he would reach over and rest his hand on your thigh, not possessive, just a reminder of your presence. a reminder that made your insides twist with want, nonetheless, that made your gaze simmer.

one of the things you appreciated so genuinely about jack was that he didn't rush you for even a second, so happy to go at whatever pace made you most comfortable, whatever pace would keep you around the longest. it felt almost wrong that his acceptance of a slow pace made you want to speed things up, made you want to know what he felt like in your hands, what sounds he might make if you teased him, what his voice would sound like in your bed.

he let out a rumble of a laugh at your question, shaking you from your daze. "you'll definitely recognize one of them," he said. "though i don't know if he's fully recovered from your last meeting."

"oh no." you paled. "not him." you winced, thinking about how you had probably bruised his inflated ego. not beyond repair, though, you knew. for guys like that, never beyond repair.

jack traced circles on your thigh with his thumb in affirmation. "don't worry, baby," he said, "told 'm to be on best behavior."

when you arrived, you recognized that boisterous voice immediately.

"so good to see you again, sugar," he drawled, his tone especially toying.

you decided to cut any hard feelings immediately, going up to him and giving him a quick hug in greeting. "i think i owe you a thank you, coach of the year," you said, pulling away with a smile.

luckily, he seemed to forgive quickly, even to appreciate your efforts. "i prefer my thank yous in hot chocolate form," he said, and you promised to fulfill his request later. he gave you his name in exchange for yours.

you spent the afternoon leisurely ambling around the grounds, looking at potential trees, but really just enjoying the company of those around you.

most of the time, you spent laughing, tucked into jack's side, finding warmth in the firm feeling of his hip against your waist.

"what about this one?" trevor asked, holding up an especially short and stout one.

the two of you decided jack would need a taller one to better suit the ceiling proportions in his living room.

walking around, it felt like you were in your own dreamy winter wonderland, in a fog of laughter and warmth and a million other beautiful things.

"you leave again tomorrow?" you asked at one point, unable to hide the slight disappointment in your voice. you peered up at him, your eyes warm, your cheeks rosy from the cold.

he met your gaze and nodded, hugged you tighter into his side. "back in a few days," he said.

you couldn't help but pout just a little. jack's roadtrips felt longer and more lonely than auston's ever had.

jack ran his thumb along your bottom lip. "what's that for, baby?" he asked.

you shrugged. "just gonna miss you, 's all," you told him honestly.

something sweet bubbled up in his gaze, but the moment was effectively interrupted by trevor's voice coming from behind you, now shockingly close.

"oh?" he said, dramatic, "what's this? is that - mistletoe?" he emphasized all of his words with dramatic pauses. you briefly thought that maybe, if he hadn't been all in on hockey, he would have made an excellent theater kid.

you both turned to find trevor standing right behind you, holding an alarmingly large branch of something that resembled mistletoe.

"where did you find that?" jack asked his friend.

"never mind that," trevor said, waving him off.

you elbowed jack lightly. "looking for an excuse not to kiss me, are you?"

he shook his head incredulously, as if you had said something funny. you were about to tease him again, but he didn't give you the chance, immediately taking your face in his hands and angling his head down slightly to meet you in a kiss that seared every bit of chill from the air.

would you ever get used to this? would his lips ever not feel like they belonged on yours? would your heartbeat ever not thrum, like some perfect harmony?

the warmth of his hands on your face, the security of yours against the plane of his chest, all of it, everything - it was so perfect you wanted to stay here, just like this, forever. and the thought didn't even scare you as want began to pool inside of you, hot and heavy.

a mixture of a cough and a laugh had the two of you pulling away from each other. one of jack's other friends who had tagged along let out a low whistle, making you blush deeper.

jack just slung a heavy arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

luckily, trevor's attention had already strayed, as he was now holding the branch over his own head and the head of the other friend. "don't fight it!" he was calling out as the friend broke out into a light gait.

"get away from me, you scumbag," the poor kid called out over his shoulder.

your eyes were stuck on jack's face, still hazy from your kiss. he turned to you, his mouth quirking up. "staring, baby?" he said, low enough for only you to hear.

you nodded, shameless. "want you," you told him plainly, barely recognizing the tone of your own voice.

the fire in his own eyes welled up as you placed your hands flat on his chest. "fuck, now, baby?" he asked, looking around to where his friends chased each other around.

you bit your lip, pleaded him with your eyes. "please, jack," you said, "please take me home."

he took your hand in his immediately, tossed some parting words over his shoulder to his friends, who paused, watched the two of you stumble into jack's car with urgency.

as he started the engine and pulled away, you heard a faint the hell are we supposed to do with this tree?

the car ride back felt longer than it really was, both of you practically buzzing with want. you kept a hand in his hair, his palm planted firmly on the inside of your thigh, close but not close enough.

you let out a sigh of relief when he pulled into the driveway, let him pull you into the house, push you up against the closed door, kiss you again with heat and force and somehow, such softness.

it was the softness that filled you with want. his desire was obvious, especially when he pressed his hips up, hard against you, but that didn't mean he wasn't just so gentle with you, so in tune to what you wanted.

you fisted your hands in his hair, pulled until his posture faltered, until his lips parted further and he moaned into your mouth.

you hooked a leg around his hip to bring him closer, relished the way he began to rock against you.

"fuck, baby," he breathed out, strained, stuttering in places, "don't wanna fuck you against the door."

later, you would think about how auston had never had such a problem. he had never cared where you were, how uncomfortable a position had made you. sometimes you had thought he found his own bed boring.

but jack just pulled you into his room, lightly rocked you back onto the bed, pressed soft kisses down your jaw, your neck, your stomach. you both pushed and pulled clothes aside, looking to give the other as much access as possible.

"so fuckin' pretty," he mumbled against your stomach, making you flush all over.

"please, jack," you whined as he slowly dragged his fingers through your folds, making you shiver.

"what do you need, baby?" he asked, pumping himself a few times, up and down, his voice low and rough.

you sat up for a moment, took hold of his hand, peered up at him through your lashes as you spit into it.

he groaned, ran his hand over his cock, now glistening with your spit. desire glowed in your eyes like fireflies. "tell me," he begged.

you laid back on the bed again, the smell of him everywhere. another time, you would insist on feeling him in your mouth, maybe on feeling his mouth on you, but you knew the both of you were far too desperate for that.

"just need you inside me, baby, please," you said, your eyes raking over his figure above you, all gentle slopes and hard lines together.

"ask me so good, baby, so good for me," he said, a careful rasp. he thumbed your clit, making you jolt, dragging his fingers through you again before bringing them to his mouth. "and so ready, hm?"

you nodded feverishly, your mouth falling open as he finally pushed into you, his groan deep.

you whined, the stretch so surreal as you reached forward to grasp at his forearm, anything to ground you.

staying still in the stretch for a second, you waited for the feeling to weaken, but it didn't, not really.

he dropped his head, his exhale coming out shallow, the muscles in his shoulders constrained.

you tightened your grip on his forearm, let your nails dig into him to pull him back to you.

"fuck, baby, i can't," he bit out, "can't, i swear."

you rolled your hips back and forth, trying to will some movement from him. "please, jack, please move," you begged. "please fuck me, baby."

never one to deny you, he began a slow pace, the friction and depth almost unbearable. one of his hands dug into your hip, so hard you could feel bruising, the other beginning to rub careful circles on your clit, making you cry out in pleasure.

"you're so deep," you choked, "faster, baby, need you faster."

he obliged, picking up the pace of his rhythm, moving his hand faster against your clit, making that wave well up within you, forcing moans from your throat.

"fuck, sound so pretty, baby," he said, a glistening sheen now painted across his brow, his collarbones. "so pretty, squeezing me so perfect."

the muscles of his stomach began to contract as you felt yourself dangerously close.

his rhythm continued, bruising in depth and force, so lovely in softness. you tugged his hand from your hip, placed his fingers on your tongue, desperate for something to do with your mouth. you sucked, pulling a guttural moan from him. "don't stand a chance when you do that, baby, swear," he said, "fuck, don't stand a chance with you, hm?"

you felt yourself smile around his hand, your eyes watering, glazed over.

"gonna make me cum, baby," he whined, his motions becoming jerky, his voice little more than a plea. "cum with me, baby, hm? make me feel so good, yeah?"

you fell over the edge at his words, felt his orgasm follow yours almost immediately, the air warm and sticky around you. he collapsed on top of you, his exhales like liquid on your skin, yours like dreamy sighs as he pulled you to him, held you close as you waited for the rise and fall of your chests to settle.

he drew his fingers lazily around the flesh of your thigh, your hip, you pushed his hair back from his face as you both fought sleep, wanting just a few more seconds in the conscious presence of the other.

everything was so lovely you could barely stand it.

you should have known it wouldn't last long.

a day into jack's time away, you received a text from one of your friends in toronto. it was a picture from auston's instagram with the message just thought you should know. we miss you.

something cracked in your chest at the photo of your ex-fiance and this new girl. it wasn't really jealousy, definitely not desire, no, it was harder to pinpoint.

maybe it was the fact that after four years of being together, and after a whole year of being engaged, auston had never once even thought about posting a picture of the two of you.

and you had always chalked it up to the fact that you didn't have any social media, but now, you realized there was something to be said about letting the world know that you were taken.

and you also knew, now, that that was a statement auston had been unable to make your entire relationship.

a voice in the back of your mind, tone watery with tears, wailed. what makes her so special? it pressed. what makes her so much better than me?

it didn't help that she looked absolutely nothing like you. you wondered passingly if you would have preferred a look-a-like to be staring back at you through your screen. you didn't really know, but you did know that her features were sharp to your soft, your eyes are hair completely different in coloring. her face had you questioning if he had ever really found you beautiful, or if you had been the exception to his regular type. the idea weighed heavily on your shoulders like a cape made of cement.

but you knew, at the end of the day, that it was not about her.

and so you decided that as much as your relationship with jack had become genuine, maybe it was time to bring back the plan, just a little.

it can be two things, you told yourself, jack doesn't need to get hurt.

so when jack arrived back from the road, your relationship now teetered on a tightrope, balancing between two things, two motives like a trapeze artist.

still, you tried your best not to let your desire to rip out the heart of your ex-fiance stand in between you and jack. you could be bloodthirsty and gentle at the same time, you told yourself. two things.

the idea became easier when jack began to ask you to come to his games.

at first, you had been skeptical. auston hadn't wanted you there until maybe a year and half into your relationship. you didn't want to push this, press your luck, make yourself a burden, in fear of him abandoning you.

"are you sure you want me there?" you had asked the first time, a little timid, your face resting on your clasped hands, sitting at his kitchen counter, keeping him company as he made something on the stove.

he had turned to you, head tilted, confused. "of course i do, baby," he had said, calmly and clearly. "i want you everywhere i am."

and that had been the end of that.

so you began to become a regular attendee at his games, getting to know the people of his life more closely, becoming a fixture in his life more solidly.

you let him post a picture of the two of you, so touched that he would even ask. he showed you the post when he was done.

you kissed his shoulder in response. "your eyes are closed, jack," you said, half-laughing at the fact that he had chosen this picture, so flawed in nature.

"hm?" he looked at the picture again, then shrugged. "hadn't noticed. no one's gonna be looking at me, anyways."

you shook your head, disbelieving. he was making it hard for this to be two things. he was making it really, really hard to care if your ex-fiance even saw this post. he was making it really hard to care about your ex-fiance at all.

"i don't believe you, sometimes," you mused aloud.

he twirled a lock of your hair, mesmerized. "how?"

you tilted your head back to allow him easier access. "you're pretty perfect, you know that?" you smiled up at him, blissful. "too perfect."

seeing his face go pink with your praise made you make a mental vow to tell him more often.

and he gave you every opportunity to be surprised by his perfection, over and over.

every kiss was something teenage you would have dreamed about, every time he led you into his bedroom was something current you dreamed about. how he seemed to enjoy every moment no matter what you were doing, even how clearly he communicated with you during your first fight, all of it astounded you.

he made all of your friends jealous, but so happy for you. he met them, one time, when he dropped you off to get coffee with them after class.

he was so respectful with them, asked them genuine questions, but never anything that told you that he wasn't in on you one hundred percent.

when auston met your best friend in toronto, he had dropped your hand that he had been holding.

"didn't tell me she was so pretty, angel," he had said, and you had hoped it was just to show you he was putting in an effort to impress the people that were important to you.

when jack said he had to be going, to get to morning skate, he just kissed your cheek. "use my card, yeah, baby?" he called out, waiting for your nod and smile before he drove away.

how had you stumbled into this? was it possible that it wasn't too good to be true?

jack had asked you to come to toronto when the devils headed up north to play the leafs, because he knew you had lived there, because he had lived there, too, and wanted to show you around. and it had reached a point where refusing him when he offered a piece of himself to you seemed cruelly impossible.

you told yourself that it was just another game, just another day. it helped that you honestly didn't feel any attachment to this rink, even to this city. you had watched jack play plenty, now, and you were determined to treat this game just the same as any other, if not rooting for jack with just a little more urgency, a little more emotion.

you loved how easy he was to cheer for. you loved how you could see how much he loved the game, how he smiled after every good play, how he saw things you could have never seen on the ice. you could practically hear his laugh in the rafters, see his imperfect teeth in the glass. he was everywhere, here, are you loved it.

of course, you noticed that your ex-fiance was here, but it honestly wasn't even that bad. if anything, it was confirmation that you were over him, that what you had with jack was real, that you weren't in for revenge anymore. you weren't in this for auston at all.

until he scored, and his goal song echoed through the arena. you knew that this year, the leafs had decided to try out individual goal songs after players scored, songs that they chose before the season started.

you did not know, however, that auston matthews' goal song was the song that, months ago, was set to be the soundtrack to your first dance.

the crowd was eating it up, of course they were, the juxtaposition of auston's dynamic scoring ability with the old-fashioned crooning of you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you.

the song seemed to reverberate off of the walls, into your head, behind your eyes, where it settled like thick fog. it smelled like champagne, waxy makeup, hairspray. your eyes began to water, which made your throat constrict.

like a dream, maybe a hazy memory, your first dance that never was flashed across your mind. an ornate, almost gauche white dress, the beautiful heels you had been practicing to wear. his pressed suit, slicked back hair, stupid designer socks that used to make you laugh. his hand on your waist, your arms around his neck, the two of you lost in each other, swaying, swirling around the floor to this song, surrounded by loved ones, high on laughter and the future and love.

slowly, the image blinked out of your vision as the song faded and the puck dropped, play starting up again.

it blinked out like a dying star, and then it was exactly that. dead.

because as you trained your eyes back on the ice, never once did they stray from 86 in red. never once did anything like regret or nostalgic desire well up in your heart, because you were not the one who lost. you were not the one with something to prove.

finally, you buried that wedding dress, laid it six feet under, let the soil spoil it, knowing one day you would wear a white dress and it would mean something to both parties involved.

in a breath, the game ended, and jack won, and he was truly all you were thinking about.

waiting for him, though, practically bouncing up and down, you were suddenly pulled into a side hallway by a grip you would recognize anywhere.

you were not surprised to look up and see the calculating eyes of auston matthews looking down at you with some lethal combination of heat and arrogance.

"angel," he said, a greeting that made you grind your teeth.

you pulled your arm away from him, shook him off of you, willed strength and stone into your posture and tone. "cool goal song, asshole," you bit out.

"i missed you too," he cooed, not taking you seriously, even now. his frame seemed so imposing now, looming large, too large for someone you didn't trust.

you rolled your eyes. "if you'll excuse me, i'm waiting for someone." you turned to leave the hallway, go back to the exit where jack would surely be walking out of any minute.

auston grabbed at your wrist, and it burned. "what, you mean that kid?" he scoffed, but didn't let go. "c'mon, angel, you know he's nothing to you." he rubbed a circle into your wrist that once, might have been soothing, but now made you feel sick. "you know you're all for me."

and you could have said so many things. like how that kid was your age, actually, so what did that say about him? like how that kid was twice the man he would ever be. like how this would be the last time you ever saw him, the last time he would ever have your attention.

the opening of a door ripped you from your thoughts as both you and auston glanced up to see jack in the doorframe, his bag slung over his shoulder, his face flushed from the game, tired blue eyes caught on auston's hand around your wrist.

time froze for a millisecond as you felt like you were pulled between worlds. it can be two things, you had told yourself once. it was never two things.

you watched as painful realization settled in jack's eyes as he simply turned away, let the door close behind him.

you ripped your arm from auston's grasp. "you've never taken me seriously," you told him then, looking him square in the face, your tone steady and serious as anything. "but if you believe anything i say, let it be that you are nothing to me, and you never will be again."

for the second time, you were the one to leave, this time running towards something worth saving.

you cursed under your breath, looking around for that head of soft brown hair.

you found him in a different hallway, sitting on the ground, his bag slumped next to him, his back leaning against the wall, his feet flat on the ground.

for a single moment, it was so quiet you swore that your exhales echoed against the walls. he didn't turn to face you, but obviously knew you were there.

"so you're with him, then?" he practically whispered, his tone like a cleaver to your chest, so defeated and blindsided, almost like he was talking to himself.

you slowly made your way over to him, sat down next to him, mirrored his position. side by side, but he felt so far away. "i'm not," you said back to him.

he let out some kind of bitter laugh, a sound you hated, a sound you hoped you would never have to hear again. "so that was you making friends?" he picked at a thread on his dress pants. "just meeting new people, 's that it?"

you turned to face him, then, but he still faced forward, as if looking at you would ruin him. "it's not what you think," you said, softly.

"well, what is it?" he paused, looked at you, then, and he wore his sadness like a suit fit for mourning. "be honest with me, please."

you took a shaky breath, knowing that this, very possibly, might be the last time you would ever be so close to him. knowing that your next words, your explanation, it might drive him away from you forever, before you had even really had the chance to have him.

you savored this breath, this liminal space between the truth and the now.

"i was going to marry him," you said, and the confession felt like letting go of every single vengeful thought you had ever had, like all the spite and disdain in your body had evaporated into dust.

"you were going to marry auston matthews," jack murmured, his face blank, his tone confused.

"yes."

"but you're not anymore?" he asked, looking at you, leaning his cheek onto his knees like an impatient elementary school kid waiting for recess.

you shook your head. "no. he cheated on me."

there was a pause, brutal silence, as his brow furrowed in confusion, his fists clenched briefly before letting go. his gaze fell to his hands for a moment, and when he spoke again it was so cautious, so pointed, that your stomach sank. "and then you just happened to start dating me?" he looked so tired. "same job, same goals, pretty much same life." he let out a breath. "you can't tell me that's a coincidence."

you sighed, prayed to whatever god would listen that honesty would count for something. "no, it wasn't a coincidence." your heart felt like it was lulling itself to sleep. "you were never a coincidence."

he dropped his head between his knees, and hurt vibrated through the air like sound waves. you could feel his hurt in your fingertips, could have melted in down, frozen it, wielded it like a weapon. "tell me something, baby," he pleaded, muffled by his legs. "please."

you knew it was unfair, but you laid a gentle hand on his fingers. "let me tell you all of it, please, jack, and then you don't have to see me again if you don't want to."

he took a breath that you felt in your bones, then in an act of mercy you cherished, gave a soft nod.

so you did. you told him the whole story - how you had been so devastated and hurt that you were blinded by a desire to make auston suffer. how you had chosen jack on purpose, because you knew it would cut the deepest. how you had not simply shown up randomly at that bar, all that time ago, how all of it was part of a plan, down to flirting with his friend, down to that first game of pool.

he didn't push your hand away, actually leaned his leg into your arm as you told him the story. the scary part's over, you wanted to say, you can stop hiding under the covers, now.

and so you told him about how he had hijacked your plan entirely. how you never expected to determine how good your day was based on how often you heard his laugh, how no one could have predicted how often you dreamed of his smile, how days when he was away truly felt like a loss.

"if i had known you, i never would have put you through this," you told him, finally, honestly. "i would have left you alone."

he was quiet for a moment, and then he picked his head up and looked at you, genuinely, thoughtfully. "you never would have used me to get back at your ex-fiance?" he asked, but there was not really any bite in his tone.

you tried your luck, reached up, brushed his damp hair from his forehead. "i did use you," you admitted. "and i don't have an excuse." he looked at you with clear eyes. "it was mean, and cruel, and all i can do is say that i'm so, so sorry and i will never hurt you like that again. i promise, that's the truth."

in the silent moments after you finished speaking, you closed your eyes for a brief moment, waiting for his reaction.

when you opened your eyes, he was looking at you. he opened his legs and knees wide, held open his arms, waiting. "i believe you."

it took no convincing for you to settle into the space he had created for you, to lean back against his chest, feel his heartbeat between your shoulder blades, his arms coming around your sides to clasp in front of your middle.

"you believe me?" you said, almost a whisper. you picked up his hand, held it to your chest, shocked that he was letting you. shocked that he was still here, making space for you.

you let the smell of him engulf you. it felt similar to walking into your mother's closet - the evidence of her living, loving, everywhere around you. the evidence of jack was everywhere, now, all over you, growing like some carnivorous plant over your heart.

"you promised," he said simply, into your hair.

and how spectacular it felt for someone to take you seriously, to take your words at face value, to understand that when you promised something, you meant it.

it felt like words were failing you, so you brought his hand to your mouth and pressed your lips to his palm lightly.

he hummed into your hair. "tell me about now," he said, voice steady and patient.

"hm?" you twisted your neck to look him in the eye, leaned back further until the back of your head rested on his chest.

"you told me about before. about him," he said, his eyes swimming with home, with hope. "tell me about us. tell me about now."

you searched for words, wondering how you could convey just how important he was to you, just how deeply you cared.

you could have said that his eyes were the most beautiful ocean you'd ever swam in. you could have said that kissing him felt like swallowing stardust, that listening to him talk about his day was a privilege and honor.

you could have said how you loved his voice after a long day, how he wore his emotions openly, shamelessly, how kind he was to those around him, how he didn't let you leave his house in doubt for even a second about his feelings, how he let laughter come easy, how he was many things but never, ever, indifferent.

you could have said so many things, but sometimes poetry and fancy words are inadequate, just diluting the true meaning, make it taste like watered-down juice, faint and lacking.

you could have said so many things, but you just told him the truth.

"i wake up every morning and i think of you," you said. "every moment you're not with me, i wish you were." you willed every ounce of meaning into your gaze. "you are my first choice, every time, jack. and it's not even close."

there was a silence as he processed what you said, and something like adoration dawned in his gaze like a springtime sunrise.

he tilted his head down, pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that told you he understood.

that no matter how you had gotten here, you were here, now.

"tell me again," he whispered against your mouth, and you smiled into his. that, you could do.

fin.

#hockey #nhl #hockey smut #nhl smut #smut #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #quinn hughes #trevor zegras smut #jack hughes x reader #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews #auston matthews smut #auston matthews imagine #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes imagine #new jersey devils #toronto maple leafs

[imfinereallyy]

“The demon is back.” Eddie pokes into Steve’s side to wake him up.

“Babe, please go back to sleep.” Steve shoves his face into the pillow, making his voice muffled.

“Steeeeve.” Eddie whines, “It’s really there I swear this time. And I locked the door so I know it’s the demon again. Nothing else can get inside.”

“Eddie.” Steve squishes his face even deeper into the mattress. “You do this at least once a week. I love you; I do. But I never look because there is no demon. And every morning, you wake up fine. So please, go back to sleep.”

“What if I promise never to mention it again if it’s not really there? Will you look then?” This time Eddie’s voice wavers, his actual terror showing.

Steve sighs and shifts his head to look at Eddie, “This is really freaking you out, huh?” He says it kindly. Steve can tell this is serious to Eddie. So even if he doesn’t believe it, Eddie does. And what’s important to Eddie is important to Steve.

Eddie nods back furiously.

“Okay, I’ll look.” Steve shifts his head towards the other side, where the chair by the window sits. There, sitting in that corner is a dark shadowy figure. “Oh.”

“See! I told you! Demon! Oh god, it’s gonna get us.” Eddie throws his hands up. Even though he’s terrified, he’s accepted defeat.

“No.” Steve says calmly. “It’s just El.”

Eddie pauses his rant, “What?”

“It’s just El. In the corner. She does that sometimes, watches people she cares about until she falls asleep. To make sure they’re safe.” Steve looks at Eddie.

“The door was locked! How are you so calm about one of the kids just watching us at night?”

“Honey, she has mind powers. I don’t think a flimsy lock from Home Depot is going to stop her.” Steve deadpans before shrugging, “And it’s El. She could ask me to kill a man, and I probably wouldn’t even ask questions.”

“What if she asked you to kill me?”

“I’d be conflicted.”

“I want to be mad, but honestly I think I’d hand you the knife.” Eddie sighs, looking down at Steve.

Steve scoffs, “Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t stab you. I’d obviously sneak some kind of poison into your honeycombs. Way less messy.”

Eddie goes back to nearly shouting, “Why have you thought about this?!”

“Honestly, I have a lot of intrusive thoughts. I just don’t speak them out loud.”

Despite the fact they are actively talking about his murder, Eddie can’t help but get all gooey with Steve in their bed. “Is this why you don’t get mad when I think aloud? Another reason why you just get me. Adding that tally to the ‘why we are great together’ column.”

“Yes, we’re pretty amazing. Can we go back to sleep now?” Steve smiles.

“Yes—wait, no.” Eddie corrects himself, getting himself back on track. He loves this man, but he is a sneaky little minx. “Why did El never say anything? I mean, this is not the first time I accused her of being a demon. Hell, we’ve been talking for literally five minutes, and she still hasn’t said anything. Also, what if she walked in on us doing, ya know, adult stuff?” Eddie blushes at the end. He’s acting like he hasn’t been whispering way worse things in Steve’s ear every night.

“First off, she won’t walk in on that. Apparently Max taught her about happy screams a long time ago.”

“Gross.”

“Yeaaa. Second, I’m pretty sure she’s asleep right now.”

Huh, now that Eddie thinks about it, he does hear soft little snores. Which is weird since neither he nor Steve snores, and they are both, ya know, awake.

“And I don’t think El speaking in a dark corner would have helped your fears. Like imagine just hear her soft “Hello” at 2 a.m.” Steve raises an eyebrow.

“I—okay I got nothing.”

“Fantastic can we go back to sleep now?”

Eddie gives one last shout, “You’re not going to stop her?”

“Are you going to tell her no? And make her worry?”

Eddie slinks down into the covers, “...no.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Eddie curves his body into Steve’s, seeking him out. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie, securing him to his chest. “Thank you for indulging me.”

Steve hums. “Anything for you baby. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Eddie kisses Steve lightly.

“I love you both as well.” El’s voice suddenly speaks into the silent room.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie screams.

Steve can’t help the giggles that come out of him. He tries to smother them into Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie can’t find it in himself to be mad.

———

some people seemed interested in more el + Steve sibling energy. And they are a sibling-like duo I love. So here’s a little something but more steddie involved. I think all three of their relationship would be very sweet. Both Eddie and Steve would protect el. I hope you enjoyed :)

#steddie #stranger things #el and Steve have a sibling relationship #el could set the world on fire and Steve would say good job #both Steve and Eddie have intrusive thoughts #they just go about it in different ways #Eddie Munson #eleven hopper #ficlet #fluff #steven harrington #my writing #no byler in this one sorry #steve harrington is a sweetheart #everybody lives/nobody dies #Post season 5 #steve x eddie

[s1m0nth3swag]

i apologise if i already sent this ask, my memory is terrible! if your requests are open, may i get an easily flustered male Reader/doorman who is mercilessly teased and flirted with by a doppelganger Francis and the real Francis watches? Whenever it's smut or not is up to you

I just absolutely need to imagine Scarlet Milk Francis and regular Francis.... thats a physical need actually.

Like flirty Scarlet Milk and Francis who's just like "bro i would never say that, cringe" UNTIL HE NOTICES READER GETTING FLUSTERED AND HE JUST GOES "damn. whore." (judgy Francis for the win <3)

I'm not at all down bad for Scarlet Milk Francis wdym this is normal, isn't it?

Also, uhm, uhm, a little badly written because I wrote this in Latin Class, and my brain is positively fried!

WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO; Slight suggestive themes (not full blown smut though), Francis being judgy, Reader being down bad (relatable), part two worthy bullshit (because i love the thought of taking Scarlet Milk and Francis (totally in a fight.))

Blood. That's the first thing you noticed as your favourite Milkman walked in. He was covered in blood. When asked about it, he simply said it was 'Scarlet Milk', a new type of milk. You had simply nodded along, like yeah. This was totally normal. Not like you had let the actual milkman in just a few minutes later, and you knew that if you called the apartment his voice would sound from the telephone. You reached there, eyes fixed on the doppelganger - you had always thought Francis was attractive but this.. well, it was definetly a new high. "Don't call him." The doppelganger spoke, voice too sweet and buttery. He knew he'd gotten caught, but seemingly he.. didn't mind. He smiled at you through the small window that seperated the hall and your office. "Bet the real one doesn't even bat an eye at you, hm? You're so good looking, he really should." You flushed slightly, even though you know you shouldn't. This was a doppelganger, for gods sake! A ruthless monster that could easily kill you! Yet here you were, blushing at the fake Francis. And he knew he got you on the hook, you could tell by the grin that adorned his face.

If you had known that the actual Francis still stood just outside the door that led into the building, and had seen the fact that a Doppelganger with his face had walked in, you probably wouldn't be talking to it anymore. Much less if you had known that Francis hurriedly made his way to your office - he trusted you didn't have a memory of five seconds, but something told him you were in trouble. He didn't even bother knocking, just opened the door to what was probably the weirdest scene ever. You with a bright blush covering your face, his doppelganger having a shit eating grin on his face... Yeah this had to be a fever dream.

Meanwhile, you were absolutely done for. Sweet nothings, things you didn't think anyone would dare speak out loud - the doppelganger had probably given you the most compliments you'd ever received in your lifetime. You turned around in shock as you heard the door open, staring at the real Francis like a deer caught in headlights. "Look who decided to join us! Real me!" The doppelganger chuckled. "Was just telling this sweet thing what I'd do to them if they let me in." He purrs, tapping against the window teasingly. "They got real shy about it." You glared at the doppelganger, looking between him and the actual Francis. "What'd he say." Francis practically demands to know, and your cheeks flush a deeper shade of red at the thought of having to repeat the things the doppelganger said. This was probably a moment to sink into the ground forever. "Just said I'd give them something to do with those pretty lips. And then some other things.." The doppelganger answers in your stead. Yup, you definitely want to get swallowed by the floor at this point. Francis looks at you, raising a brow in silent judgement. "Seriously? I'd never say stuff like that. That's stupid." He sighs, his face scrunching in a frown. "And honestly, you see me covered in blood and think "Yeah I'd fuck that"? Really?" He adds, serious annoyance in his voice, and you don't even know what's happening anymore because this whole situation is so unreal. "I'm sure I'm really handsome." The doppelganger quips in. "Though.. I would look better without this awful uniform, don't you think, sweets?" You let out a silent groan, covering your ears in embarrassment.

You don't know why this continued, but now Francis and the doppelganger are yapping about how the doppelganger doesn't get Francis' speech right - you seriously stopped listening after they both told you to shush when you said you'd just terminate the Doppelganger... you only listened to hints of the conversation. Something about sharing is caring or so.

God, how did you get yourself into this...

#francis mosses #francis mosses x you #thats not my neighbor #x reader #francis mosses headcanons #francis mosses x reader #milkman that's not my neighbor #milkman x reader

[jksprincess10]

Playing Santa || Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Joel dresses up as Santa for the kids of Jackson. It shouldn't turn you on as much as it does.

A/N: Thank you to Jett @morallyinept who inspired me with her Santa!dieter. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate.

Divider by @saradika

CWs: Inappropriate uses of a Santa costume, some fluff, some references to Sarah's death, established relationship, riding, half-clothed sex, fingering, bj, rough sex, dirty talk, unprotected p in v because this is a fantasy world and no one can get pregnant, some usage of "Santa" in a dirty situation, the usual. (1500 words)

Joel Miller masterlist

Notification blog

It did take some convincing for Joel to play Santa this year for the Jackson kids. It was truly a group effort – with some coercion and some puppy eyes. Tommy even used his young daughter as the perfect bait – imagine how much it would make her happy to see Santa. Traditions lived on in Jackson, even though nothing made sense anymore, they wanted some kind of normalcy for the children.

You help your boyfriend dress up in his large obnoxious red velvet pants, a matching jacket, a big belt, and shiny black shoes. You tie the fake beard on his face and put the fuzzy Christmas hat on his head.

“How do I look?” he asks as he turns around to let you see all of him. You bite down a smile.

“Like the sexiest Santa I’ve ever seen.”

He rolls his eyes, but you can see redness matching the color of his costume on his face. You pull on his jacket to bring him to your level and kiss him sweetly. Joel’s hands are on your ass, pulling you dangerously close. You put your hands against his chest and push him away slightly.

“Come on Santa, you’ll have this gift later, but you have to do your part first.”

He groans in response, but lets you drag him out of the house you share with him and Ellie.

You help to make sure all the kids get a chance to sit on Santa’s lap and receive a gift – mostly handmade stuff by the community – knitted plushies, wooden trains, etc. You also make sure Ellie doesn’t laugh too much at Joel’s misery, but she mostly spends time with her friend. Joel genuinely looks happy – you catch him smiling and taking his role seriously, with a deep voice and exaggerated laughs. It makes your heart swell up with love for your man, and you hope this experience is somewhat healing for him.

You help Tommy and Maria clean up the community center, and they leave you the key to finish up cleaning so they can put their daughter to sleep. You assure them you’ll take care of it – after of course, taking care of your personal Santa.

The beard and the hat came off a long time ago, and his jacket is open, exposing the tight black t-shirt he wears underneath. Joel is sitting on Santa’s chair to take a break, his big thighs spread wide. You try not to devour him with your eyes as you approach him to sit on his lap. His hand rests against your lower back as he presses a sweet kiss to your warm cheek.

“The kids seemed very happy. You did good, Joel.”

There’s a sadness behind those big brown eyes that you can feel. You know he thinks about Sarah, and every holiday without her doesn’t get easier.

“I know she’s proud of you.” You add as you press a kiss against his nose.

He hums in response and decides to change the subject to something less uncomfortable. “Was promised a gift, earlier, I reckon.” he drawls.

You roll your eyes and grab his chin to kiss him deeply, before sliding off his body slowly, until you’re on your knees in front of him. You work open the comically large belt.

“You don’t have to-”

You shush him and slap his hand away. “I want to.”

He helps you pull down his velvet pants and his boxers. You circle his half-hard cock, pumping him slowly until it gets bigger in your grasp. You drag the tip of your tongue on the tip, collecting the salty pre-cum. He hisses at your attention and rests his palm in your hair, not pulling nor pressing. You wrap your lips around his tip, sucking softly, taking him deeper until you stop at your hand holding the base.

“So good fo’ me…” Joel slurs, his head thrown back against the big chair. You moan at his words, letting your voice vibrate around him.

You pump him excruciatingly slowly, hollowing your cheeks to accentuate the sensation of your warm mouth. He groans appreciatively and you take that as a sign to pump him a bit faster in your mouth. He groans, frustrated, as he grabs your hair to pull you off. You sit back on his lap with a sly smile.

“What?”

“Don’t make me come so fast like a goddamn teenager.”

“I’m sorry.” You lie with a smile.

He brings you closer, so you straddle his lap, your arms around his neck. You lean down to kiss him deeply, sucking his tongue between your lips, swallowing his moans.

“Lemme touch ya baby.”

“Will you fuck me too, Santa?” You smirk.

He groans in discouragement. “Dirty girl. Yes, I will.”

Joel’s hand sneaks under your black velvet skirt until he finds your soaked panties. “All this fo’ me, hm?” 

Your forehead rests against his shoulder as you feel your cheeks heating up. “Yes.”

“M’so lucky.” His fingers trace your clothed center, before he slips your panties aside. Two of his digits caress your seam, collecting the wetness there, before circling your clit in the way that he learned you loved. You muffle your moans against his coat. Your hands grab him tighter, as if you’re scared of falling with the intensity of your pleasure. “I got ya, baby.” he whispers against your ear, before pressing a kiss below your lobe.

He sneaks one of his free fingers between your walls as he keeps teasing your clit with vigor. It’s ridiculous how fast he can get you where he wants. You feel your body tense, before going limp in his arms. He leads you through your orgasm like one would lead an orchestra, touching you with precision and purpose. You shake in Joel’s grasp and let out a silent moan.

“Good girl.” He rewards you in a soft, honeyed voice.

“Fuck me, please.”

“Please, who?” He teases.

“Please, Santa.” You grimace and you don’t wait for his approval before you grab his cock and lead it between your folds until it notches at your hole. You take him in inch by inch, slowly, until you’re completely sat on his lap. He looks at you with adoration, his hand resting on your cheek as he steals a kiss from your lips.

“You take me so well, baby.” He praises in the shell of your ear, making you shiver. Sometimes, you wonder if you could come undone only with the sound of Joel’s voice. You lay your hands against his broad shoulders for leverage as you start moving up and down his length slowly, each one of your moves letting you feel him completely. His head rests against the chair, his eyes half closed, and mouth slightly opened. He looks so good like this; just letting you take what you want from him.

One of his big hands rest against your lower back to help you move, respecting your rhythm. You feel Joel’s tip hitting the inside of you just right, and you let your moans come out freely of your parted lips. He thrusts up, joining you in the languid thrusts of your hips, making you let out a silent scream, your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“God, Joel…” You let out breathlessly.

He thrusts a few times, before grabbing you from your waist and pulling you off him. You watch as he gets up, big figure towering over you.

“Hold on to the chair.” He says as he leaves a playful slap on your butt under your skirt. You do as he says, your hands grabbing on to the chair’s arms, putting your ass up for Joel to take. He grabs on to the skin there, kneading your flesh, as he uses his other hand to guide his cock back in, between your wet and accommodating folds. You grab on to the chair harder, knuckles going white as he fucks you fast and hard. You chew on your lip to keep yourself from screaming, as you’re still in the middle of the community center in a well-visited street of Jackson.

“Will you come on my cock, baby?” His body bent over your back; he bites playfully at your earlobe after whispering those dirty words.

“Y-Yes Joel, please, please don’t stop.”

After a few more harsh thrusts, you feel yourself spasming around his cock as a new wave of slick wets him. You almost go limp as you ride out your orgasm, Joel holding you up with his strong arms as he chases his own high.

“Want me to fill ya up, uh? Want Santa’s little gifts?”

You almost laugh at his words, but you agree with a small “yes”. You feel him burst inside of you and register him putting your underwear back in place, one of his arms still holding you.

“Best Christmas gift.” He chuckles.

“Let’s go home, Santa.” You help him pull his pants up. “We don’t want to ruin Christmas’s magic for any kids.”

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

[katsu28]

Hi! For the flower ask could I request lily of the valley with Jamie x f!reader? I was thinking something like reader revealing to Jamie that they are pregnant? If you’re not feeling that I always love a seemingly sad prompt turned happy! I also loved this prompt list and could request 100 more if you want 😂😂♥️♥️

i had such a great time with this pls request as much as you want, i would be honored to write them <3

lily of the valley: a tear, followed by a sob, jamie tartt x reader, mentions of pregnancy ofc, 1.6k

You were trying so hard not to freak out right now. 

You’d been feeling like absolute shit the past week or so, but just chalked it up to having some bad takeout, or that you’d finally caught that pesky flu that’d been going around this time of year. It wasn’t until your period hadn’t come when it was supposed to that the idea you could possibly be pregnant dawned upon you, but when it finally did, you rushed to the nearest pharmacy to buy a boatload of pregnancy tests. 

Now you were here, sat on the closed toilet lid in your bathroom, waiting until the agonizingly long five minutes were up. 

It was hard not to jump to conclusions, but god, you really were doing your best. Having a baby would change every aspect of your lives. You didn't know if you were ready for that. But you also didn't know if you weren’t ready for it. You wouldn't know unless it actually happened but if you really were pregnant, there was no taking that back. Having a baby was a forever thing. With Jamie. 

Yeah, the whole not jumping to conclusions thing really wasn’t working out very well for you this far. 

Your phone timer went off before you could dig yourself into a deeper hole and you squeezed your eyes shut when you’d made your way to the counter where the blue and white test sat, looking seemingly innocent. It seemed strange how such a tiny stick would tell you whether or not your life and Jamie’s would change forever. 

Exhaling a long, calming breath, you peeked at it with one eye, then both. 

Three lines, clear as day. Positive.

You took two more in quick succession right after just to be sure—different brands too, just to make double sure. Two more positives. You were definitely pregnant. 

How were you going to tell Jamie? He was at the height of his football career, and even though you’d been together a long while, you hadn’t even really had that huge next step conversation about starting a family. Hell, you weren’t even sure if he wanted kids—not with what he’d been through with his own father. Of course, Jamie would never turn out like his dickhead dad, but you knew he’d be worried about it. 

On the other hand, starting a family with Jamie sounded amazing. You’d get to have a kid that was a perfect blend of him and yourself, someone to love and nurture and watch grow into their own person. They’d have the best parts of Jamie, the best parts of you, and every time you’d look at them you’d get to cherish this human being you’d created together. 

The sound of the front door closing in the distance pulled you from your spiraling thoughts and you quickly hid the tests in the cupboard, splashing some water on your face. You didn’t feel normal by a long shot, but planned to act like so until you could truly process the new information. It still felt unreal. 

Jamie was rummaging around in the fridge when you finally gathered the confidence to leave the bathroom, humming to himself until he heard you enter the kitchen. “Hey, d’you know if we have any more eggs, or are we out? I could run to the shops really quick if we need stuff.” 

“Um, we should still have a few, I think,” You mumbled, trying your best to keep your voice as level as you could. You must not have done as good of a job as you wanted, because he straightened up immediately, swinging the door shut to look at you. When he saw you standing there looking less than happy, he was across the room in an instant, holding you at arms’ length to scan you for any injuries or differences in your appearance, anything that could tell him why you looked like you’d seen a ghost. 

“Whoa. What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, inhaling a deep breath before trying to force a smile. “Nothing, I’m fine, I promise I’m fine.” 

“Don’t look fine to me.” He frowned, rubbing his hands down your arms. “Looks like you’ve got something on your mind. C’mon, lemme have it. Talk to me, love.” 

You weren’t sure if it was the way he knew you so well he could tell something was off with just one look, or if it was the pregnancy hormones already kicking in (did they even kick in this early??? You couldn’t have been more than a couple weeks pregnant at this point), but you couldn’t help it. 

A tear rolled down your cheek, and before you knew it you were sobbing, burying yourself against Jamie’s chest. He mumbled a soft ‘oh fuck’ but wrapped his arms around you despite his total confusion, pressing his nose into your hair and shuffling over to the sofa so he could hold you as tight as he could. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but he knew whatever it was, you’d deal with it together. 

“Sorry, I just—god, I’m sorry, you’re probably tired and I’m—I’m…I don’t know.” You sniffled, wiping under your eyes with the sleeve of your jumper. You pulled away from him with a shaky sigh, putting your head in your hands. 

Jamie shook his head profusely, scrambling to kneel down in front of you. “Fuck that, why’re you cryin’?” He asked, concerned etched into his features. He took hold of your elbows, gently prying your arms away from your face so he could see you properly. “Did that cranky old sod from a few houses over come over to yell at you about the garden again? I swear to fuckin’ god—” 

“I’m pregnant.” You blurted, deciding to just rip the bandaid off and get it over with. 

Jamie’s mouth snapped shut instantly. He blinked owlishly at you. “You—wait, wait. You’re…” 

“Pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant.” He repeated, wide eyes darting down to your midriff, then back up to your gaze. “Right now? How—how long?” 

“I don’t know. Four, five weeks, maybe? I just—I know it’s not something we planned for, and—and Richmond’s doing super well and you’ve got your whole career ahead of you and I get it if you don’t wanna be saddled with a kid—” Jamie took hold of your fidgeting hands, although his were quite shaky as well. He didn’t say anything for a while, but you suspected it was more for utter shock and a lack of words rather than disappointment like the fear you’d had in the back of your head this whole time. 

“Don’t even think like that. M’not going anywhere—wouldn’t even dream about it.” He said finally, looking you right in the eye. He looked determined. Steadfast. “Whatever I have to do, whatever we have to do, I’ll do it. We’ll do it. Everything’s gonna go just fine.” 

“How are you so calm right now?” You asked quietly, running a hand through his hair. 

Jamie leaned into your touch on instinct, turning his head to kiss your palm gently. “M’not calm. Feels like my heart’s about to burst out me chest, I’m so happy. But it don't really seem like I should be yellin’ and shit right now—not til you’ve wiped those tears from your eyes.” He replied, reaching out to swipe away the tear tracks from your cheeks on his own. “Can I—can I talk to them? The baby.” 

“Sure, love.” You smiled at him warmly and he nodded, suddenly looking a little nervous as he settled himself right next to your stomach. You were pretty sure the baby was only the size of a seed right now, but the thought of Jamie wanting to talk to them made your own heart swell. You suspected it would be something he’d do throughout your entire pregnancy. 

“Erm…hi, I guess. I’m your dad. I don’t—I don’t really know what to say to you because I don’t think you’ve quite got any ears yet, but…I want you to know that I promise to always be here for you and to love you no matter what,” He murmured, rubbing his fingers against your skin. He hesitated for a few beats, and you knew he was thinking about his own father. How he never wanted to become like James. How he would never want to put your child through what he went through.

How he wanted to break the cycle and create a better one—a life filled with love and joy, never fear and resentment. 

You felt another tear roll down your cheek, and another, and then you were sniffling back another round of sobs, making Jamie’s eyes fly to your face. “Oh shit, I made your mum cry again—fuck, I ain’t supposed to say shit, ain’t I? I’ll get better at this once you get here, yeah? But until then, have fun inside your mum. I know I did.” 

That earned him a shove to the side of the head, but he still grinned, dropping a kiss to your stomach before pushing himself back to sit cross-legged next to you. “Was that good? I think I smashed it.” 

You let out a watery chuckle, dabbing at your waterline with your sleeve again. “It was perfect.” 

“Can I yell ‘bout it now?” 

“Have a go.” 

“We’re havin’ a baby! We’re havin’ a fuckin’ baby!!!” He cheered, jumping onto the couch next to you. You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped your lips at his antics. He was happy and you’d never been so relieved to see him that way. 

Jamie pumped his fist into the air a few times before dropping to his knees and leaning in to kiss you, nearly missing your mouth in his now unleashed excitement. “I love you, darlin’. I love you with everythin’ I’ve got, and I love our kid just as much. Even if they are just a clump of cells right now. And everything that comes next, we’ll figure it out. The season, the training, all that shit, we’ll figure it out together.” 

“Together.” You echoed, giving his hand a tight squeeze.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :) and if you've gotten this far, feel free to take a look at the prompt lists in my nav to request something!

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt one shot #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso

[bestpigeon]

AlastorxFemale Reader 2

Alastor x female reader

Reader is a fallen angel who has been openly welcomed onto Charlie's, Hazbin Hotel. She grows close to Alastor, too close.

Warnings: swearing, kissing

Word count: 1200

Part 1! Part 2!

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I awake in the morning. It's been around a few weeks since the first day in the Hazbin Hotel, and can I say that it's been a delight. Everyone's been so welcoming, I'm actually enjoying this more than I'd thought. Hell isn't too bad. I mean, sure, it's hell but..I have people down here who respect me.

I've actually figured out something about myself, too. In heaven, I was known as a powerful angel, I'm a fallen angel now, but I have some demonic qualities. I've developed horns. I'm actuslly thankful though, it creates less suspicion. My powerful aura has turned a deeper shade of yellow, too.

I haven't equipt my wings yet either. If I keep them hidden, they heal quicker. Plus, I wouldn't want to get caught either.

Charlie suddenly bursts through my door and stares at me. I jump and panic. "HOLY SHIT-" I froze until I realised who it was, and I calmed down. "Jesus Charlie ylu scared the fuck out of me." I say as I rub the back of my neck.

"Oh! Sorry!" She giggles before shutting the door. "The horns seem new? Cool. Also you joining us for the activities?" She says as she stands in front of me with a huge smile. "Activities?" I question confused.

"Just friendly activities to get to know each other!" She says with a sly smirk. I know her game. I chuckle before nodding. "Sure couldn't hurt?" I say as she quickly grabs my hand and basically drags me downstairs. I wave at everyone as she goes to explain the activity.

She explains the activity. You pull a name from a hat, and you have to talk about feelings with them? That's..such a weird activities. Angel dust pulls a name and gets Vaggie. He seems disappointed. Husker gets Charlie leaving me and Alastor. Alastor smiles widley at me.

"Why don't we go on a walk, fellow demon?" He says as he approaches me. I smile up at him. I could already feel Charlie's smirk. I nod happily. "Sure, Al, lead the way," I say with a bright smile.

Alastor and I walk outside of the hotel side by side. He both agree not to talk about feelings and decide to get to know each other.

"So my friend, how long have you been in hell?" He asks. I internally shit myself. Luckily, I acted cool. "I'd prefer not to say.. I mean, not like indont trust you!" I just don't tell people that stuff. Sorry!" I say, hoping he wouldn't get suspicious. He squints slightly at me before nodding. "Understandable. I am neither fond of spilling personal information about myself."

I nod with a smile. Damn I'm good at lying. How the fuck did I get into heaven anyways? I don't know anymore. "So, Al, what madd you visit the hotel?" I say. I was curious. Charlie told me a little about the hotel, so I know it's about redemption. I doubt Alastor is up to be redeemed.

"Ah, well, I'm simply just interested in helping Charlie with her dreams! I have no intention to be redeemed." He says with a huge smile. I could hear the radio static in his voice. "What about you? How did Charlie find someone as beautiful as you to come to the hotel hm?" He says. How charming. I feel my face go slightly red.

"How nice of you, and well I was simply wondering the street, and she approached me. I didn't really have a place to stay, so she offered it to me for free." I say. Once again I'm a fucking good at lying.

"She truly is a charm! She's such a nice girl." He says as he praises Charlie. He wasn't wrong. I both nod and hum in agreement. We both stop walking before he turns to me. "Care to have a drink?" He says as he moves one of his hands to grab mine. I smile lightly. "Of course, how could I say no?" I never would have thought, Alastor would have been so damn charming.

He continues to hold me hand before leading me to a bar. He seemed to be quite known around these parts because he got given a VIP area for free. We sit down in front of each other. Still holding hands.

"So, what's this then Al hm? Some sort of date?" I say teasingly. It basically should be at this point. From my surprise, I see Alastors face go a little red. I smile warmly at that and tilt my head while making full eye contact with him.

"If you're uncomfortable with that, then it's simply simply just two friends!" He says as him smile shortens. I chuckle softly before speaking. "I wouldn't mind if it was a date at all. It would be nice, actually." I say, smiling widly. I see his smile extend. "Well, let's call it a date!" He says with his charming smile. His voice was soft.

We order drinks and talk for a while. We talk about ourselves, and I avoid some questions about things that could get me caught. He didn't seem to notice luckily. He made a move and decided to put next to me instead. He slides one of his arms on my shoulder, so I close to him. We talked for a while.

We were laughing at a joke about Vox. He sounds pathetic. Apparently, he's his arch enemy or something. He then grabbed my chin and left a small peck on my lips. I smile and try to ignore the blush on my face. I chuckle before returning him with kisses too: mouth, cheek, forbead, nose. We've gotten quite close recently.

He chuckles at that, and I notice his smile seems genuine. More genuine than normal. I kiss his lips, and he returns the kiss. We make out for a while until I move away and move my hand to play with his hair.

"Where have yoy been my whole afterlife, Y/N. Why haven't I met you before?" He questions. I keep a smile on my face. He was asking..weird questions, and I didn't want to get caught. "Not sure! But I'm glad I've met you now." I say as I snuggle against his chest. He chuckles and nods.

"It's getting quite late, my fellow demon. We should go back to the hotel, Charlie might be worried." He says as he stands up. I nod in agreement and go to stand up before I get wiped off the seat. "Woah!-" I say as Alastor bridal carries me out the bar. I chuckle "Al I have legs, y'know." I say as I go to wiggle out of his hold. It's not like I didn't want him to carry me.

"I'm aware, Y/N. It's for my own pleasure." He says as he refuses to put me down. I chuckle and lean into his hold. Soon after that, I fell asleep. Alastor could have teleported to the hotel. But chose to carry me anyway. Maybe he isn't as bad as I thought, Charlie said not to trust him. But I just can't help myself, I've fallen for him.

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Part 2! Hope you enjoyed this. Do you have any recommendations? Feel free to request! I'd love to fulfil them.

#hazbin hotel #romance #hazbin hotel x reader #husker hazbin hotel #alastor altruist #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x female reader

[milksnake-tea]

heyy bbg its me, your 🌺 again hihi

I was wondering if you would be interested in writing about the ask prompts 2, 6 and 10 for Yaoshi? 🥹 I'm honestly still a simp for them and Honkai is releasing way too less stuff about them I could scream 😭

During the next survey im gonna beg them to let us be kissed by them again for real. By the way, thank you so much in advance, you know I always eat up your aeon content it's so nice.

(If I misunderstood the prompts and you won't do it please ignore this ask and spare me the cringe I would potentially feel HAHA)

- 🌺

POINTS. I GOTCHU BBG I NEED TO GET BACK INTO MY AEON LOVER PHASE ALSO UR FINE BBG U DID IT RIGHT ILY

2. What do you think their love language is?

Definitely acts of service or gifts. As much as I love my physically affectionate Yaoshi, I see them as someone to just shower you in gifts and love. And let me tell you - those gifts have range. You could get either the most beautiful bouquet (or garden/planet because let's be real, Yaoshi wouldn't settle for just a bouquet) made up of the finest specimen from across the universe, or you could open your door to the freakiest chimera that looks like it was one of God's deleted drafts. With acts of service, Yaoshi doesn't want you to be sad !!! No negative feelings are allowed, only happiness and joy for their loved one <33 So they'll take care of anything that bothers you to make sure that your eternal life is nothing short of paradise.

6. What do you think Yaoshi is like in love?

They're actually insufferable BYE I just know they're musing about every little detail about you to anyone who would listen. Their Emanators and Denizens have never seen you, and yet they know everything about you. Basically, they turn into a less loud, yet somehow even more poetic version of Argenti. You'd slowly notice the effects of their blessings around you as you go on with your life: Flowers and vegetation bloom wherever you go, your injuries heal so fast that you could've convinced yourself they didn't exist, and sickness no longer finds you. Gradually, your world turns into a paradise, and when you inevitably meet the Aeon responsible for it all, they welcome you with open arms.

10. How good at cuddling is Yaoshi?

THEY'RE BOTH SO GOOD AND SO BAD AT IT AT THE SAME TIME ITS LOWKEY IMPRESSIVE. Yaoshi has wayyy too many arms for their own good, but that just means they have all the more to hug you with !! The only problem is that. Well. Those arms have nails. And said nails are sharped to an unreasonable degree, and sometimes Yaoshi forgets about them and they'll accidentally scratch you when they're trying to pet you. But they're warm and make quite the pillow if you just ignore that part, and they'll hum you a little song while they hold you <33 or just talk to you about the mortals that've caught their eye, or what their followers have gotten up to. Yaoshi has a beautiful voice, by the way, gentle yet rich and leaning on the deeper side, and just listening to them is enough to lull you to sleep.

2k follower event if you want to participate !!!

#mail 🏵️ #event 🏵️ #🌺 anon #yaoshi x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr yaoshi #archives 🏵️

[secret-subject]

How does it feel like to be hypnotized?

I find this question to be a hard one to answer. Loaded with subjection and people get very hung up on the details sometimes. It's funny because everyone experiences it differently, we know this. Everyone is different and responds to different things and ways to play with hypnosis. But what I also find interesting is how trance can feel different:

With different people

On different days

At different times

Let me explain.

So lately I've gotten back into listening to files, (recs later if you ask nicely) because after getting on medication for depression back in 2019 it felt weird to be hypnotized myself and I didn't really need it as much as I had previously. Now I've been off those meds for a long time and am now on stuff for my adhd instead so I thought I would give it another try and, it feels very different. Pre-2019 trance for me felt like a mixture of "blacking out" and "being really drunk", everything got really hazy and I would just sort of fade into the void. I've had experiences which felt more like an out of body situation. I dissociated so hard I just wasn't in there anymore for a little while, I had others that were just light and I could easily come up at anytime and chose not to. Because of my general training I was very easy, super suggestible and with the right people a lot of fun apparently. It has never been super consistent and it took years of dedicated practice to be like this. I think a lot of the time when people would see me hypnotized before people would assume that's just how I am, but I've been doing this stuff for years to get any result. Especially in skills like amnesia, body catelepsy, and even getting thoughts out of my brain and basic in and out of trance, getting "deeper" each time. But coming back with a proper diagnosis on my neurodivergence and the right meds changed the feelings I used to have ans has evolved them.

So right now, I've noticed a few things. The trance is less consistent and this is good? It's good because it tells me that well the conditioning is now less "overall brain is getting more sticky" like it would before and now "brain is very much more sticky but only for the ones who put work in or who I listen to a lot". I have a bit of a voice thing and I'm very picky so this works out when now adays I tend to also listen to my hypnosis creators friends work, it's easier and it could also be a rapport thing. I know them so I know that I can trust them to be safe and also I know I can back out when I need to. I've also worked a TON on subject agency since when I was younger I was very much a pushover when it came to hypnosis. Being a dominant full time now for the last three years after my switch era helped with this. I've gotten very good at saying no and highly recommend this is a skill we all learn, even though it can be a hard one to get started with. So yes, I know I can wake up any time (with most people) but I just don't want to. So when I'm listening to files I now notice the different people feel different. Some I find more relaxing, others I find more of that focus depending on what they say and how targeted the audio seems to be at me and my brains working mechanisms. If you tell me to "focus" and "listen" it's like a switch goes off in my brain and I'm there, versus a more permissive, relaxing vibe which tends to take more time to really get to me. This also changes on a day to day basis, but I think it's like compounding conditioning that clearly is building over time with practicing and training to certain voices.

The feeling started as what is very similar to my hyperfocus mode I go into on the daily with my adhd. It's intensely focused to the point where nothing else matters, and sometimes my eyes don't close on their own and almost wait to be told to "drop" or to close them on instinct. I'm very bad at relaxing into trance. I now notice my body flopping (being so relaxed I just flop over somewhere) a bit like it used to but not all the time. Sometimes this feeling is more like I'm frozen in place. I've even dropped into trance holding my phone lately and when I woke up i was still holding it in perfect place or practiced sitting up in trance, it's like a freeze trigger no one had to impliment. I've learned I can be just as "deep" of not "deeper" with my eyes open and in a sort of mid/waking trance state. I also noticed sometimes my eyes do still roll, so that's kind of cute.

Yesterday, I had a really intense trance experience, probably the most intense I've ever had in 12 years of doing this. It was literally seconds of it, the words happened and they hit me, my eyes were open the whole time but super blurred and I couldn't see anything clearly. I just sat there but it literally felt like a giant wave of pressure hit me and I was just in it. This insanely incredible force washed through me and I just went down so fast I didn't have time to think about it and it was just a couple words. It was like being just frozen in time with the pressure encapsulating you and it wouldn't let go. Normally I would have forgotten this (because my memory play is very well trained and I have a brain like a sieve because adhd) but I could remember it clearly, the feeling I mean, the stuff outside of how I felt is very blurry. I don't know or am able to remember what was said to do it, it just was and that was very interesting to know that in my years of doing hypnosis from both sides, that these feelings are still evolving for me.

Anyway, what does trance feel like for you? Does it change for you? And what kind of practice are you doing to get those feelings? I'd love to hear from people!

#hypnosis #hypnok1nk #hypnosis community

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Hop to it Tink

Pairing: Thumper & Tink

Summary: As the mid 60’s consume Elvis with his ever more arduous film schedule and immersive hobby pursuits, Elaine crafts a friend out of a rival. For either spouse it’s not the ideal of way to cope with a lost child and estrangement, but the confusion that can occur from dumping any old thing into a wound to close it up is enough to bewilder the most grounded person. Much less a young girl like Elaine Presley who finds herself scrambling for a hint of girlhood as her five children and husband rely on her to keep it all afloat. Just as she’s going under, a pretty painted hand lifts her up.

Dedicated: to Ashley and Christi who both begged for this to be written and added so many details themselves that enriched it. Credit is also due to @prompted-wordsmith for the wicked suggestion of Benetint being used herein.

Warnings: sensuality, 18+, no outright smut but many mentioned offscreen acts, suggestiveness, this can be read as two girl friends or a little more, I tried to keep it nebulous as I imagine it would feel for Elaine herself in her exploration. a rather alarming emphasis on feet, pampering and painting toes and Elvis being overly into that, phone teasing, Larry being a little too psycho analytical over why Elvis and Elaine are having trouble after Jo, mentions of a stillborn, mentions of marital dissatisfaction, hinted male infidelity, hinted Polaroids and homemade spicy films, Elvis turning shit into being erotic that isn’t? That’s men for ya. And then just fun fluffy stuff with the kids but that’s no warning. I didn’t edit this really, I’m too tired, my apologies for any errors.

Requested: yes ✔️

Circa: 63-67

“Hey Tink?” Ann’s voice, always enviously soft even while sounding mischievous, asks abruptly in the middle of an hour long chat.

“Oh what now?” Elaine giggles into the gold phone Elvis has stashed on his nightstand, feeling silly to be sat on her bed in the middle of the afternoon, frittering it away with chatting and giggling to a friend.

That’s rather proof that Elaine needs it. Too much ‘strictly business’ in her life these days and Elaine knows if Elvis were here he’d be poking her forehead and making her fall back and put her feet up. She taps them on the floor instead, tap tap tapping her heeled boudoir slippers on the bed frame in a giddy tick as she waits for her friend to spring whatever wickedness is behind that tone of voice.

Her friend.

Elaine had hoped Ann would like her, be willing to be a buddy to THE Mrs. Presley but what they’ve got now is something she didn’t even think girls could have. It makes her view Elvis and his buddies more tolerantly, the stupid and goofy comradery she was starved for without even knowing it has slowly had its way with her in the form of Thumper and bike riding with Thumper and chatting with Thumper and kissing Thumper while Elvis writhed beneath them…so maybe it’s not like his mafia boys at all, but somehow it’s deeper despite the unorthodox beginnings and carnal undertones that seep in and out of it at whim.

“Whatcha got going on tomorrow night?” Ann asks at last, sounding altogether too nonchalant.

Elaine's heart pounds and she purses her lips, sensing a game here. She’s so like Elvis, this friend of hers, maybe that’s why Elaine gets butterflies in her belly at the chance to see and enjoy Ann, or when the telephone rings and it’s her sweet self sounding like she’s actually had to pace herself from calling Graceland when she knows full well Elvis isn’t home. She calls for Elaine, and something about that makes Elaine bite her nails and kick her feet.

“Oh not much, Jack and Jesse are trying the scuba gear in the pool right now,” Elaine sighs, “and if they don’t die tonight I suppose I’ll be here tomorrow making sure they’re still breathing and fixing sandwiches and seeing to it that Ella’s got her puppy ready for the show.” she waits a beat and adds, “You know full well he isn’t gonna be home.”

“Who?” Ann asks with overacted ditziness.

“Him.” Elaine rolls her eyes, “At least another five days away, stupid Arizonan weather has decided to rain and there has to be reshoots.”

She can hear Thumper humm on the other line with something that’s more contemplative than compassionate for Elaine’s empty bed. “How’re your toes?” she asks.

Elaine peers over the fluffy slipper tops and the profusion of lime green feathers adorning the slippers, “Decent, but they’ll need to be redone before he gets back.”

“Red?”

“French tip.”

“Hmm, Pink next, I think?” Thumper says.

“Yeah alright.” Elaine bites her lip and makes herself stop or else they’ll start peeling and need more Vaseline.

“I have to be in LA day after tomorrow. And I have a flight tomorrow morning. It stops in Memphis.”

“How nice.” Elaine murmurs, pulling on her lip now, slightly better than biting, she supposes, and it hides her grin from the gal a thousand miles away in New York.

“Yes, I thought so.” Ann agrees.

“And it’s such a long flight, New York to LA.” Elaine coos, “You’d get cramp if you didn’t break it up, can’t have you holed up like that, unable to walk out the shakes.”

“No, you wouldn’t want it for me, would you?” Ann babifies her tone and Elaine does fall back into the covers grinning stupidly up at Elvis’ ugly harem lamp above her.

“No, no I wouldn’t dream of it.” Elaine swears, “You just come by Graceland, stay the night, stretch your legs a bit, fill your belly, let me curl your hair.”

“And we can talk about boys.” Thumper agrees, like that’s her return currency for good southern hospitality…and it sorta is.

These nights when she stays, they’re something sweet and young and silly like Elaine hasn’t had in years. Never once herself in full since she married, losing all friends who knew her before Elvis, collecting folks who knew Elvis long before her, and a snazzy supply of darling children whose most stimulating conversations are about tricycles and losing a new tooth -Elaine is a little starved.

And Elvis -well, as Tink, she's his best friend, without doubt, and he is hers. But she’s also his wife, his woman and his home and his ballast and his doll and his lover and his mama and his ideal. So many roles. What she can’t talk to Elvis about is only relegated to one topic.

Elvis himself.

And such a man, a force more than a man at times, oh it needs an outlet and somehow the Mafia wives and even Betsy Blue Eyes Harrison with her discreet goodness and friendship can’t speak of what Elaine wants to speak about. A body can only go so long without bragging a little about what they’ve got, and when what you’ve got is a national heartthrob and the most famous man on earth -secrets about earth shaking ardor that rivals cataclysmic tempers, well, sometimes Elaine wants to speak of it. Or, rather, about the parts that make her love it, look forward to another day full of it. The little things that she can’t trust anyone else to know or love or see kindly.

Except for Thumper. Thumper -who has already admitted to loving him the same way, seeing him the same, living for him similarly. It’s the oddest consolation, and stranger still that his wandering eye gave it to her, but Elaine will take it.

“Yes, we could talk about boys.” Elaine agrees with Thumper, both knowing that when they say boys, they mean boys such as Naughty, Widdle Fella, Elvis Presley and The Memphis Flash.

Tomorrow comes and her sons are alive and hardly stripped out of their swimsuits to sleep before getting back in them and plunging to the depths of the swimming pool with metal tanks on their back and masks on their faces. She can’t bear to watch, looks like a perfect way to die at home, and so she stays inside and helps Ella groom her puppy for the pageant and Rosalee has an embroidered collar that needs help with fastening the buckle -she did the stitching herself- and although she hasn’t seen Daisy in hours, that wasn’t unusual.

In the afternoon she sends a car to the airport, Marty grins at her wildly and she gives him the old eyebrow before taking herself to her bedroom as the hour nears and going through a rather worn routine that still pleases her like when it was new.

The sound of the big door suctioning through the house can be heard upstairs, as can the chorus of children screaming “Aunt Tamale!” and Elaine knows it’s time to make an appearance.

Ann braces to a squat with her bag dropped beside her as a tidal wave of Presley children launch themselves at her over the foyer floor, tackling and clinging and squeezing vehemently with grinning, beautiful faces. Three are wiry, chlorinated and shirtless. It takes a moment for Ann to realize one is Daisy and that no, they’ve not made a third son since she saw them last. Jack’s golden hair has gotten darker and that’s heartbreaking but at least his dimples are deeper than ever and Jesse is just as sweet and courteously loving as always with Ella tagged behind with a wet doggie that Ann takes in her arms and let’s lick her face and Rosalee had a sketch to show her of what looked like a deformed couch but was most likely intended to be her beloved daddy’s profile and -

Oh Elaine.

Always one to make an entrance, to set the tone of a good game. She looks perfectly at home leaning against an upper bannister while observing the hubbub from above, with sheer navy cascading around her like a thundercloud and her hair tousled to perfection. Young Elvis’ portrait yearns behind her on the wall and Ann smiles at the rightness of it.

She waits till her children loosen the gambit just a little before wafting down the stairs in a tulle blur of long limbs and soft focused curves and she throws her arms around Ann and her sensible, tweed traveling suit.

“Thumper, I’ve missed you!” She’s no icy Madame in her own home, sweet Elaine, her porcelain face and macabre loungewear aside, she is warm and glowing in the rays of a waning day’s sun and Ann clings a little longer, arms around her neck and giving flesh beneath her hands, feeling oddly at home in this foyer.

“Missed you, too.”

The sleepovers always start with evenings like this. There’s playing with the kids and dinner, they may end up in the pool, they may end up watching home movies to show her what she’s missed since last visit. Perhaps there’s a new golf cart to try to flip on its top. But when bedtime comes, Thumper is a loving taskmaster, insisting everyone get to their respective rooms, starting the process thirty minutes early so that there can be as much dithering and “one more chapter” as can be and still get the kids conked out at a decent hour. Rosalee is allowed to stay and use the phone to talk to Elvis till 10:30 and in the meantime Thumper conducts tooth brushing competitions and Elaine sorts out breakfast plans with Mary.

And then it’s time for bedtime, and where Elaine might waiver about being so selfish as to deny her kids the little tiny bit of girlhood she’s carved for herself this evening, Ann has no qualms guarding that for her and summarily cleans out the big king bed of progeny.

Only little Jack is occasionally allowed to stay.

Weaned, or so Elaine swears but Anna has doubts, the kid is golden and soft and lanky like all little five year olds should be, and blessed with an unerring accuracy in beaming and scowling at the right times to get exactly what he wants. In short, he is Elvis come again in a tiny, button nosed, rosebud lipped cherub with sweaty curls begging to be pushed off his forehead by a loving hand and of course it’s half the delight to let the little fella stay and camp on the bed when they read their tabloids to each other, watching him laughing maniacally along with them at rumors about themselves that Jack doesn’t even understand.

Jack is also excellently skilled at wedging the foam pads between their toes when it’s pedicure time, allowing Elaine and Ann to bask back in matching boudoir chairs with their feet propped up on the matching stools Elvis got. Pink stain pouring over little round stools for when he wants to haul one up and chat to his wife while she applies her lashes. Jack insists on wedging the foam between their toes himself and sometimes tries his hand at painting with varying catastrophic results.

“Heyar, i’s wight heyer.” Jack’s little drawl still butchers Elaine’s diligent elocution lessons but both women fawn over him regardless when he passes them a roller they had planned on using later -not anymore- they drop the sectioned hair in process and start again with the one he gives them.

“He’s really precious, isn’t he?” Ann sighs once, staring down at him where he finally passed out between them, soft, chubby knees he got from his daddy bent askew and long fingered hands for a child tucked beneath a milk fat cheek.

“I don’t think I’d have made it without him.” Elaine admitted once and when Thumper gave her a searching look she went on, “Before there was you, there was just him. And when everyone else was ready to be happy again after Jo, he never minded when I’d take him to a room to nurse him and -“ she trail off, face lit warm by the harem lamp’s multi gemmed glow and the golden bedding around them, dark hair pinned up in rollers to show how young her face really is without paint and artifice, “-I even remember once being in Elvis’ trailer on set, right after and it was like every kid who cried around me-my body would respond and let down more and I-I didn’t have a baby for it. Except for baby Jack, and I remember sitting in that hot trailer on the lot while all the kids were out with Elvis touring the set and I was…crying.”

“Of course you were.” Ann snuggles closer, reaches over Jack’s little form to squeeze Elaine’s arm.

“I was sobbing my eyes out, actually.” Elaine admits with a shy turn of her head towards the padded headboard, “While he nursed. And then I felt his chubby little hand, all clumsy and sweaty, wiping them off without ever breaking his latch on the nipple. Wiping the tears off my cheeks.” She clarifies, “I didn’t know a baby could be so loving in the way I needed, and I’ve been close before, Jesse was my world I swear, and Ella is like watching myself again. But -his dimples pop when he gives that crooked grin and he won’t even let go of the latch, just a little…” she mimics his grin with her thumb in her mouth Ann laughs at the sight.

She laughs at the things Elaine finds funny and and she gets why Elaine loves what she loves. And night after sleepover night, Elaine finds herself admitting more and more and gets back an earful in return. It makes her giddy and makes her kick her feet when she picks up the ringing phone and hears her friend on the other line.

“I think I need to freshen up my hair.” Elaine will sigh into the receiver.

“I like how you’re growing it out, less structured, it’s younger!” Ann will agree before adding just as emphatically, “Just needs a little trim and some styling. I can come Thursday.”

One such Thursday in ‘64 Tink came out of the bathroom with tin foil in her hair and scared giddiness in her smile.

“I’ve got a surprise for ya,when you get back, Naughty.” Elaine told Elvis on the phone, forcing herself not to bite her nail in anticipation and ruin the new coat of polish.

The surprise had been an auburn haired wife.

Elvis noticed the effects of the sleepovers himself, beyond the wild sight of auburn hair, even as he looked at them askew and with a confused belligerence about fun being had without him, and many a demand regarding “what sorta fun are ya having? You’re my wife, dammit!”

His logic that ‘it don’t count if its two girls’ when excusing a night of the three of them rolling in Ann's rough cotton sheets as soon as Viva Las Vegas wrapped, didn’t hold up now. Now it very much did count that they were two little girls. Two unsupervised little girls and he was relieved when Jack stayed with them, but less so when he heard from Jack that they painted their piggies and arm wrestled in their nighties.

Elaine legitimately enjoyed grappling on the fluffy white carpet of the music room floor after ice cream had been served and wiped from childrens’ chins. It was something she tried with Elvis and never managed to win except by clinging to his back like a limpet, and even then he’d win by crushing her into the pile with his weight.

But with Ann she could tussle and strain and keep up some of that old verve that had once had her nailing softball practice in high school and currently crushing Vernon at tennis. No one in the Memphis mafia was allowed to tackle her or ought else when games were played on the lawn and no amount of flattery convinced Elaine of competency she had not exercised in years. Thumper provided just such a foil and Elaine found herself winning and losing with a clean conscience and sore body time after time, children applauding at either result.

She felt a little wild, like she had when Elvis brought the three of them together that first night, pacifying her qualms about the rightness of it as only he and his unfailing logic could do. But these days she was less and less burdened by rules or even expectation, it was her own house, her own life and if Elvis Presley had cracked open the door on hotel sheets, then Elaine saw little blame to be garnered from stepping over the threshold and creating a little world for herself that made her feel more than used up and unsellable. A “fact” Colonel Parker and the family Enterprise winced over daily. She could shut herself up in Graceland or Palm Springs and see to it that her children got an education, her husband's favored meals were served when he deigned to come home and her sanity was somewhat in place for it all by any means possible.

Elvis, for his own part, knew damn well he’d invited in whatever wild spirit of independent merrymaking Elaine now partook of. He also trusted her implicitly to keep it under wraps within the halls of their house, to indulge respectably and set a good example for his children.

It was undeniable, since her friendship with Ann began, she was looking younger, happier and more content than he’d seen her since before the tragedy, before Jo.

And Elvis cared mostly about that.

And in the way of those who do not know how to comfort others regarding a tragedy that they themselves have not recovered from, he found himself making concessions and negotiations, a bit of “so long as I can keep this, you can have that” sort of bargaining.

The ‘this’ and ‘that’ were never quite verbalized, but it was understood in that miserable harmony of married couples that he’d keep his women and his crowd of unedifying friends and employees so long as she might have household stability and a certain license to be a nutcase. Perhaps it would buy him and Larry time to figure out whatever fucked up Retrograde or inner chakra was keeping him from being able to bodily make love to his wife in the traditional way.

Larry swore he was only scared to make another child and lose it, hence why his wife remained hypothetically attractive but he could not complete his attraction carnally.

Elvis thought Larry should stick his head in the wood chipper for such a simple answer, there’s no way in hell that’s all there is to it and yet it likely was and Elvis couldn’t quite manage to accept that. Accept that he was still grieving. It wasn’t an option really. Not with everything else going on, all the different ways he was needed and wanted elsewhere, and not with the way Elaine swore she was fine until he could figure it out, so long as he loved her and was there for their kids.

Which he is. And when he’s not, Ann’s there. And Dodger. Or Marlon -on Daisy’s insistence. Or the whole damn nation.

So, much as the current order of things rankled Elvis, perhaps out of some suppressed awareness of his own role in it, ultimately having his Happy Tink back was his greatest wish.

And if it made Thumper happy as well? -goodness, it was a better end than most dalliances could boast.

But it was hard being a little sidelined, and when Charlie pointed out that Elaine must feel similarly about his flings and his fellas, Elvis wasn’t sure what the hell he was on about as Elaine was very much incorporated in both, as much as she liked to be. She just liked to be less and less and that was on her. Charlie still suggested he tell her how he felt about it.

But then Tink beat him to it.

He was laying there in bed, at Graceland, at some pitch black early morning hour one time, with five sleeping children scattered in their bed, when she told him she didn’t mean to make him feel lonely. It was all Elvis needed to hear. That she knew she was doing that, and if she knew it, then he knew that before long she’d find a remedy. He just needed to be a little more patient.

Which wasn’t his forte but Tink was quick and ingenious and once she’d come up with how to help, he just about wished she never had. The cure was as cruel as it was mouthwatering.

Elvis was in his trailer one day, on a movie set as Elvis was most days this year, and had spared some time from shooting due to another department needing to sort something out. The something didn’t matter, what did matter was that he got to sit in his trailer with his friends earlier than usual for an evening, put on his helmet and watch the game. And then his team won. Which, in the raucous, bottle clinking, cigar lighting jubilation of celebrating such a win, had him almost missing the ringing of the telephone he had wired in.

Only the Colonel and Graceland and little blonde Shirley from last movie set had his number and so Elvis scrambled over his red sofa cushions, threw off his helmet and leaned over to pick the phone up, hollering, “H’allo?” into the receiver while chopping at his throat with his hand in a demand for silence from his boys.

“Naughty?”

“Why, if it ain’t my pwecious baby wife.” he cooed with a sappy grin on his face, happily flipping on his back in the cushions, all being right with the world with his girl’s voice in his ear and his team in the playoffs.

“How’re you doin’ baby?” she asked him sweetly, and he could hear her settling into the sheets, the rustle couldn’t be from the kitchen.

He kicked his feet up above his head and propped them against the wall, “Pretty damn good, you watch the game?”

“Jesse and Thumper gave me a play by play.” she informed him.

“What were you cookin’?”

“Dumplings. Couldn’t step away.”

“Aww.” he knew it had to be something precious and easily burned to keep her from watching. “And now?”

“Now I’m petting Whiskers.” she informed him.

Their cat. “I trust Annie ain’t pettin’ any kitties of mine, is she?” he mumbled in a discreet little growl, cupping the phone to his mouth.

Joe glanced over anyway. Elvis found the toe of his boot tapping a jittery rhythm against the trailer wall and as annoying as he found it himself, he couldn’t stop. He felt nervous, oddly, like when he used to call Elaine from Germany, way back when before she’d joined him. Back when he wasn’t sure he knew her fully. She kept him on his toes and he liked that, it made his blood rush and satiated his natural eagerness for newness -but oh how he wondered sometimes how she always dredged up this newness. If he knew her, really knew her would -would she keep being so surprising?

Fuck. Maybe Larry was right, maybe he needed to pop a pill like an old fart and get it on with her, get it outta his system.

Where were they? Oh, cats. And Ann.

“Elvis, c’mon, really.” Elaine chided with a giggle, “Ann is setting up the pedicures.”

“Oh.” Elvis sucked in a breath at the way such a reassurance sent the blood from his panicked brain to his jealous heart and then melting down like molten desire right between his legs. He flexed his belly and gnawed on his thumbnail. “Oh yeah?” he tried again and sounded so damn wrecked that every friend in the place looked at him as if he’d just put on a porno. “Y’all paintin’ your piggies? Mmm? Pink, yeah? Fuck’meee.”

“Mhmm, well, she hasn’t gotten to painting yet.” Elaine expounded with a sigh, “She’s oiling them up, I’ve had to endure a fifteen minute sermon on dry cuticles, Elvis, and now she’s squeezing and rubbing my poor piggies till they’re tingly-“

“Laney!“ he hollered as if she dropped a 2x4 on his own toes and the guys crowded in, a mixture of mockery and interest on their faces. Elvis spread a hand out on his chest to regulate his breathing and cursed at the realization that his wife wasn’t the slightest bit clueless as to what she was doing. “Oh Laney, what -what’s she usin’ to oil ya?” he begged to know, his nose breathing deeply as if he could guess it a thousand miles away.

“Baby oil, Elvis,” Elaine sounds so earnest in his ear, “I told her you don’t let me use nothin’ else on them.”

“Good girl.” he growled after realizing she couldn’t see his decisive nod of approval at her obedience.

“Oooh” he hears her breathe in his ear and startles up from the couch in a little flail that has no destination save that he heard his wife moan and it requires some expenditure of energy from him or he’ll go nuts laying here imagining her in her babydoll nighty, her pretty little bare toes getting oiled up by Annie.

“Tink, what she doin’ to yous, Tink?” he demands urgently, and the guys crowd closer, Elvis tugs at his pant leg and knows it’s futile, his rock hard dick is trapped in Edith’s well tailored trousers and all he can do is bring his feet off the wall and spread as much as he can.

“S-she’s rubbing my arch.” Elaine tells him, “I was wearing those pretty little white heels all days, the white ones you got me.” she reminds him and he smiles at the visual of her clicking through their home.

“She makin’ ya feel good?” he prompts his eyes glossy and far away from his gaudy trailer and the smell of cigar smoke. “Rubbin’ the sore right out?”

“Yeah, yeah feels good.” She slurs.

He can just picture her all puddled and lax and slippery- “Hers all gooey?” he hopes, running a hand over his belly that keeps flexing and quivering like little Elvis is deep in cunt.

Elaine on the other end of the line smirks at the shift in his tone, gone entirely from jealousy to fanciful imaginings that are far, far beyond anything she’s indulging in but somehow it’s terribly exciting to know what he’s thinking, to lure him in and have only his own, nasty, boyish mind to blame for the misfire. She winks down at Thumper who truly is doing a remarkable job on those sore arches and gives another little moan. “Yeah, yeah I could fall outta bed I’m so gooey.”

She hears the shuddering breath he takes and can imagine him, crisp slacks and ruffled pompadour, laying on his back against velvet red cushions, legs splayed in a pantomime of dying and his lackeys gathered around like a sleazy last supper.

“I think we’ve really got his motor thrumming, Thumper.” she feels safe enough to giggle and hears Elvis give only a heart rending:

“Goddamn, whyyyy!” over the phone in reply.

“Need a defibrillator, boss?” she can hear Marty ask him and hears only petulant moaning about needing a wife in reply.

It did the trick, or at least, part of the trick. The trick of making the Presley’s feel connected to each other again and Larry agreed that it was good, a good step towards normality even if it was a little polyamorous and crowded for a typical marriage. Such phone calls made Elvis feel included and Elaine nearly re-besotted with a man who, when on the other end of a phone line and thousands of miles away, sounded desperate and devoted, something her wifely self hadn't felt from him in a little while.

Elvis brought home amongst his many gifts a couple of new cameras, and having taught Jesse how to use the still one, paid his son five dollars for each documented arm wrestle and diving contest. How he paid his wife for each documented lingerie try-on and manicure session was never revealed but her shoe box of pastel gauzy Polaroids suggested the compensation was ample incentive. How Tink paid Thumper was anyone's guess and no one’s knowledge. Maybe it was that Cartier diamond set she wore to a premiere the following week.

It was a natural graduation of events that Elvis should, being at home during one of Thumper’s convenient memphian layovers, be a camera wielding witness to one of these night time pamperings. They politely ignored him and his bright lights that beamed on their little haven in front of the dresser, pink satin chairs aglow and their faces almost angelically washed out on the film. That night, Elaine’s hair was restored to a deep chocolate color, Ann’s outfit for her next premiere was chosen and the silk pajama’s Elvis donned for the evening had to be discarded.

The camera wielding didn’t stop there, when Thumper was brought down to Circle G Ranch, an entire production was made, the only picture film Elvis Presley ever fully produced and directed and costumed in the 1960’s -and it was full of subtext, straw, piglets, bare skin and harmed vegetables. But it occurred over an slippery, sweaty, pungent afternoon and was not a sleepover and so has no place being detailed in this chapter.

What does deserve a place here is the great Tink and Thumper adventure with Benetint that happened about a year into this charming, girlish, sleepover habit.

They’d bought matching nighties you see, sheer with a gingham print. Yet, when going to photograph their charming selves in them, they found the rosiness lacking -or at least, Thumper thought it could be improved. The printed fabric was to blame for the faded-nipple effect but was too adorably bucolic to be abandoned entirely. So, after a foray into the smokey backstages of some Vegas showrooms, Ann arrived one day in Palm Springs with her sundry gifts for the children, and tucked into her purse, was an uninspiring little bottle of something that could easily have been mistaken for nail polish.

Sitting cross legged on the vanity, Elaine soon learned it was anything but.

It was too quiet in the bathroom, just their huffed breaths and the squeak of the lid unscrewing. Even before the icy chill flicked over her skin she felt her arms break out in gooseflesh and she sucked in a breath, bracing for the tickle. Elvis had done this, to her belly, that first time she’d grown his children and her belly rent apart with a lightning bolt down its middle.

It had felt loving then, kindhearted and boyish.

Ann crouching to bosom level, flicking the little brush with its smelly mixture across her pert nipples, breath ghosting against the red blush of Elaine’s breast, silk pooling useless off her shoulders -this was different, oddly so. Somehow more intimate than when a man, or what Elaine knew of men, did it. Here was no pleasurable usage to brace for, only girlish admiration and a charming lack of regard for ought else but this, this single, charged, shivering moment.

Elaine could see Ann’s dark roots from up above. She wanted to pull that thin bottom lip of hers and snap it back against her teeth. Feeling useless sitting getting adorned so soberly, Elaine swiped the hair falling into her friend’s eyes, up and off her brow and into the buoyant coif that chasing the children had already half dismantled.

It made Ann drop her brush. “I wasn’t expecting-“ she fumbled.

She went back to it, such warmth so close and Elaine watched with a confused heart as Ann swirled the icy slick once more over the outer ring of a babe abused areola, taking her bleeding little rosebuds and making them into dark cherries.

“How do they look?” Elaine asked Thumper as Ann stood at a little distance in the large bathroom, eyeing up her art with her absurd little brush raised, a consummate artist and a distracted friend.

“You look like I imagined.” Ann replied as if without thinking before her face colored the shade of the pink rug and she must roll her eyes in an effort to sabotage the escaped sentiment.

“Imagined when?” Elaine asked, leaning forward on the counter, not bothering to cover up as it would only smear, perhaps some part of her knew without consulting the mirror the image that she made.

A dark haired vixen with the body of an ivory cello, leaning forward with those creamy mounds topped like Shirley Temples with their little ornaments.

-knowing yet curious, hungry yet soft.

Ann swallowed hard and thought about the end of all this that Elaine had once predicted in the beginning, an end that was all wedding veils and bouquets and everlasting vows with some fella Ann was supposed to find and love since Elvis wasn’t available. Elaine swore it would come and Ann had hoped she’d been right. The idea sickens her lately, thinking of somehow there being some other best friend, someone else to flick bath water at and ogle in their silk pajamas, someone else to have her heart lurch over when the children crawl atop them and the motorbikes thrum beneath them. The more successful she got the more she wanted this.

Just this.

“When he used to talk about you.” she admits her imaginings had been detailed and flattering for the wife of the man she once lay beside. Not even in dreams of wildest jealousy and unfair slight could Elaine be anything but something Ann craved to know and be known by. “I-I dreamed of being stabbed by you.”

Ann had woken up flaming with desire from those nightmares. Pretty Elaine Presley coming alive from the front of a newspapers and screaming “traitor!” hacking at Ann’s broken little heart with a pie server. Only for Elaine to end up being kind, lonely and a bit of a tease.

“Why’re you crying?” Elaine asked softly, finally slipping off her marble perch and taking Ann’s chin in her hand firmly.

“I’m going to miss this.” she muttered miserably in realization of the overseas tours next year and the boys she entertained but didn’t like enough to trust with a single secret and the way Marlon was around here too often lately. “And you know too much of me.” she hit Elaine’s arm playfully.

The grip on her chin jerked in retaliation. “I’ve been worried. You’re getting famous.” Elaine admitted, and the way she referenced fame was if it was a cancer.

“But I can come here, right?”

“Always.”

“Even if I’m married?”

Elaine looked a little surprised and questioning and when Ann shook her head in the negative to being currently engaged she lightened again, “Especially if you’re married. Married women go mad without some woman to talk to about being married.”

“You’re some woman.” Ann purred because Elaine Presley was stood too near with her pale soft breasts brushing Ann’s arm.

“You could be too, if you’d let me paint you.” Elaine dug the bottle out of Ann’s chilled fingers and went back to the sink, her reflection showing the heightened color crawling down her neck. “Get over here Thumper.” she snapped her fingers and Ann slinked up on the counter like a condescending house cat. “Am I to paint over chiffon?” Elaine stared at the still tied nightdress unimpressed until Ann was forced to fling it open - to her credit, not without adding much pizzaz to the whole thing with a high kick that only barely missed Elaine's face and a haughty toss of her head.

Her act petered out with a shy chuckle that faded into fully nothing.

“You’re very pretty.” Elaine whispered as she stood frozen in front of her in a ready stance, bottle clutched and tiny brush brandished, looking like a juvenile boy trying to recall his father’s tips on how to flatter. “But, then - you know that, I suppose.”

“I’m cold.” Ann whispered, her eyes darting to the side.

“Oh, yes,” Elaine was suddenly in motion, stepping nearer with clear eyes, “this makes it worse. Trust me. I’ll be fast, I swear.”

“It’s fine.” Ann breathed and then promptly forgot how.

As if in slow motion she watched Elaine crouching to better see her work, and her pretty hand burdened with all of Elvis’ shiny spherical gifts descended until it made contact on her bare nipple.

“Oh Elaine.” Ann enunciated through a gasp, her hands that had been listlessly sitting on the countertop curled over the edge of the marble, gripping tight.

“Cold isn’t it?” Elaine murmured again, her hand coming to rest beside her work in direct opposition to the cold paint. Firm, steadying, warm flesh on her sternum made Ann tremble, she watched Elaine‘s eyes flick up to meet hers, an odd sort of edge and command in them she’d never seen before.

Or. Rather, she had, but only ever with Elvis, only ever directing that look to him.

“He did this to me once.” Elaine told her, voice gone deep and then another stroke of the brush. “Not my nipples -it was my belly.”

“Captain Marvel.” Ann huffed a laugh, recalling the way he’d made her trace the bolt on his wife their first night, eager as a boy who’d discovered magic.

“Captain Marvel is telling you to hold still, missy.” Elaine chided her wiggling friend and Ann felt a flush all over.

“I’m just breathing.”

“Hard.” Elaine snarked, staring down at Ann’s heaving chest with a sardonic brow.

The intensity of that gaze was too much.

“It’s too much.” Ann said it in defense and Elaine’s eyes fluttered up to meet hers, her whole body straightening.

“For you too?” Elaine begged tremulously and Ann felt a rush of connection at her vulnerability.

“For me too.” she nodded.

“Gosh.” Elaine exclaimed, startled but making no move to flee, she just stayed there, hemming Ann in on the countertop and studying her face like it was the dearest thing.

“This isn’t making it better.” Ann whined as she felt that beautiful face near hers -the thunk of Elaine’s forehead against her own soon followed.

She felt her hands hold her waist gently like a dozen lovers had before and none felt as tender as this.

“You know the thing about fame is,” spearmint wafted over Ann’s face and she closed her eyes to listen to Elaine’s soft, pondering drawl, “it's held up all those years as the thing that’ll make everything all right. When the only thing that makes things even slightly bearable is a friend who knows what you're talking about. If you ever get tired, Annie, of being known for all the wrong reasons, you just come on back. We’ll always find something of us here, I know it.”

Elaine’s thumbs played across freckled skin like dainty wipers on Ann’s cheeks, swiping off one tear after another into her dyed hairline and one mere jut of Ann’s set chin brought the lower half of their faces together.

plush, warm, minty, sticky, glossy, brushing, lilting

-turn aside.

“Do you wanna -the camera, Tink?”

“No.” Mrs. Presley answered honestly as she stepped back, a little tremble in her voice, “Not tonight. I think -perhaps I, perhaps we, should call Elvis.” Elaine stared off into the adjoining bedroom with swimming eyes, their little project once undertaken for his gaze had suddenly become too intimate to be shared, even with him, even as dried ink on a glossy Polaroid weeks from now, “And maybe bring in Jack, he looked restless.”

“Oh yes.” Ann cheered and it was weak, snotty, hoarse little lie. But it was for Elaine. Anything for Elaine. “Let’s.” she agreed.

—Yes. Bring in Jack, why don’t you? And Elvis and Marlon and your charities and your causes and when it gets too crowded with just us two, bring in the whole nation!—

Ann willed the puddling tears away from the rim of her eyes, it wasn’t fair how a woman so immune to jealousy as Elaine Presley could spark so much in others.

“I bet Jack will be up to my shoulder by the time I get back from tour.” Ann joked as they crept down the hall to their boy’s bedroom, “And Jesse will break my heart with your face on a teenager's runty little body.”

It was a promise. To be back.

And come back in good spirits and with good intent. To take as much as was offered, be happy with it. Just as she knew if she herself showed up tomorrow with a husband, Elaine would be as ecstatic as if it were her own dream come true.

Some friends really do just love you enough that way. And that had to be enough.

Tags, if you’d like to be added just drop a comment to that effect below. I don’t bite and I do adore feedback, I run off of even the slightest scream from you. I appreciate you all and hope you enjoyed this. Xoxo marina

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[ya-zz]

I literally love your writings so much. Can we get a Ramattra comfort? Like reader is just very worn out from work and people and has literally just spent all day in their room. With lots of hugs and stuff. Could be headcanons, or fic idc and idk what you're comfortable with (couldnt find a rules list sorry)

Thank you! ♥

Ramattra comfort coming right up! Oh my- I have missed getting these done within days of them coming through...

Ramattra x Reader (gen)

Word count: 1722

It had been a tiring few days, verging on a tiring week and all you want to do is take a break; you just want to relax in the comfort of your own room, draw a bubble bath or have a hot, steamy shower and just settle down for the foreseeable future. 

However, that wasn’t going to be the case for a long time. 

Begrudgingly, you plodded along, the weeks slowly turned into a month and the aches and tenseness in your body only kept growing. It seemed that with every passing day, the passing minutes and hours grew longer. Staring at the clock only made it worse and all you wanted to do was go home. 

That, and also you hadn’t spent much time with your partner. He was worried, and rightfully so. When you’d come home with tired eyes, complaints about your day and then fall onto the sofa, he’d grow concerned as he would carry you up to bed. He was so gentle with you, not wanting to hurt you more than you already were hurting. He cared and wished that you would take time off.

You needed a break and a lengthy one at that. 

It took what courage and remaining strength you had to put in your vacation hours. Having always been the one to cover for other people at work, having always been the one on call should someone else not turn up, it was time for someone to do the same for you. 

When the email came through that your two week long vacation had been approved, the days seemed to go by a lot faster. The hours felt like minutes and despite the shit days, they were over not long after they had started. 

Finally, the last day of work before your vacation was here and those minutes felt like hours. It was possibly one of the longest feeling days you had, especially when you knew you wouldn’t have to worry about work for the next two weeks. 

Coming home was another story. Traffic that seemed to go on for miles, construction going on at every bend and roundabout and careless, no, reckless drivers causing you to stop and start several times. It seemed like today wasn’t going to end. 

The moment you opened the door to your home and had kicked your shoes off, throwing your coat and scarf to the ground, you instantly fell onto the sofa with a loud groan.

This alerts your partner who comes into the living room a moment later. 

“How was work?” He asks, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table and facing you. 

“It’s over…” You whine, burying your head into the cushion. “It’s finally over…” 

“You need to rest.” 

“I know, Ram…” Your voice was so quiet that Ramattra had to adjust his hearing. “I have two weeks to rest.” 

The omnic sighs before hooking his arms underneath you and picking you up. The motion causes you to groan out, eyes shutting tight as the tightness of your body causes some pain. 

“Relax. I have you.” His optics look over you and he feels sorry for you as he carries you up the stairs and into the shared bedroom. Placing you on the bed, he works on stripping you, gentle servos tracing your body as he pulls off your clothes.

While your partner was doing that, your eyes begin to feel heavy, slowly pulling you into sleep. Feeling his hands caressing your body, it didn’t take long for your exhausted body to fall deeper into the mattress. 

Ramattra pulls the blankets up, covering your body before stroking your head. He hums quietly before leaving you to sleep. 

—-

When you wake several hours later, your tired and aching body was feeling less painful than it was before. The clock on the nightstand reads 9:28am and Ramattra was nowhere to be seen. You figured he was busy downstairs doing his thing, whatever he did in his own space, away from the outside world, away from you, but little did you know, Ramattra was sat in the living room waiting for you. 

He sat there, watching the time pass by in his HUD. He pondered on if he should wake you but he knew you needed the rest. 

Ramattra was worried. 

That concern only grew the longer you stayed upstairs. 

Hours passed by and Ramattra hadn’t done anything all day. He moved to charge himself, letting the cable run across the living room floor, but his entire day was spent sat on the sofa… He was in your spot. 

He chuckles to himself when he looks back on old memories, the way you would practically pull him away from that specific spot on the sofa, and now he knows why. It was the comfiest spot to sit in. The sunlight would hit just right and when the night rolled in, you could easily look up out of the window to view the night sky.

Ramattra looks back on the day the two of you moved into the house. The way you got paint on his chassis and then making it worse when you tried to clean it up. He still has the dried paint stuck in the crevice that he never wants to remove. 

Each day he fell in love with you more.

Then you started working and he watched the colour drain from your body, the way that sparkle dulled in your eyes, the smile that faded more each day. He finally understood what it meant when humans say that they’re worked to exhaustion, death even. 

When you mentioned taking a break, Ramattra was all for it. He knew how much you needed it and he wanted nothing more than for you to take it. So when you came home yesterday looking more exhausted than ever, that concern for you grew tenfold. 

And now, you had made no movement, no noise. The house was silent. He missed you. Oh god, did he miss you. 

Despite not being fully charged, Ramattra stands and walks up the stairs. The worry grew with each step and his hand grips the handrail tightly which makes the wood creak. 

“[y/n]?” His voice was surprisingly soft as he calls for you from outside of the bedroom. He knocks once but there is no answer. He knocks again and hears muffled movements. “[y/n]? Are you okay?” 

Ramattra gently pushes the door open and sees you laying on the bed, the slow rise and fall of your chest brought some comfort to him. He watches you for a moment before making his way over to the bed and sitting down. 

You feel the bed dip and roll onto your side, eyes opening and blinking a few times to adjust to the change in light. 

“Ram…?” 

The omnic feels something tug at his wires. The way your voice was so soft, the sleepiness still clearly evident in your tone, it makes him feel warm, even if he does hear it almost every morning when you wake up. This time, though, it felt different. 

“I am here.” His hand gently smoothes over your head. “You have been in here all day.” 

“I know. I keep falling asleep.” 

“You are exhausted.” He confirms. “You have not eaten or moved.” 

“That’s the least of my worries right now-”

“[y/n].” His tone switches. Concern. 

“Ram… Please.” You move your hand to his thigh. “Come lay down with me.”

“You need to eat.” 

“I will eat after. Please. I need you.” 

Ramattra freezes, like his entire system froze on the spot, buffering as he processes your request. That damn tone, the only one that he’s afraid of. The one that makes him feel weak. 

“Of course.” He shifts, pulling the blankets up and shuffling down the bed. His arms instinctively wrap around your body and pull you close. With you resting on his chest, he feels your warmth, he feels your heartbeat. 

“I’ve missed you.” You break that small silence, adjusting your head to lay comfortable despite his rigid chest. “I know I suck at admitting this sorta thing, but you were the only one I could think about when I was working. I knew that once the day was over, I’d get to see you…” 

“I know. It pained me to see you so tired each day. I am glad you are getting a break.” He admits, rubbing up and down your arm with his hand. 

“A long break.” You sigh. “I-”

Ramattra notices the hesitation. “What is it?”

“I actually quit.” There was a nervous laugh that escapes you and then the room was silent. Earlier on in the day you woke up again and finally hit send on that two week notice that had been sitting in your email drafts. The relief you felt at that moment was all you needed. Granted it wasn’t the best timing, having your vacation and then sending your notice in, you didn’t care. Work sucked the life out of you and you had to leave before it got any worse.

It took the omnic a moment to think. “You quit? But what about-”

“I’ve been looking for a new job for months and found something a little closer to home. I had the interview the other day. Pay is far better too.” You trace your fingers over the tubing lining his hips as you talk. “I… I have just been too tired to tell you, I apologise.” 

Ramattra chuckles. “You do not need to apologise. I understand.” His arm pulls you in a little closer before he moves you entirely. 

“Ram-” You smile as the omnic effortlessly makes you lay on top of him, his hands resting on your hips and thumbs rubbing small circles. 

“I can hug you better like this.” His optics look over your flushed face and his wires warm up as he chuckles to hide the embarrassment. His arms wrap around you as the heat of his body begins to make you drift off to sleep once more. 

He notices you falling back asleep, his hands gently rubbing your back as yours slowly stop moving across his shoulders.

Your sleepy voice graces his receptors once more. “Thank you, Rama…” 

“Rest, [y/n]. You are home. You are safe. I have you.”

#overwatch #ramattra #ramattra x reader #overwatch ramattra #overwatch 2 #fanfic #overwatch fanfiction #yazzfics

[kk43mi]

alr so if you’re okay with this kind of request i’d like to request a fic in which scara is afab!! i’ve seen many people headcanoning him as transmasc and it kinda grew on me :)) i think he’d be sub and enjoy oral but at the same time also less vanilla things like being tied up, restrained, blindfolded.. idk i’ll leave the rest to you :D

please feel free to ignore my request if it makes you uncomfortable! have a nice day or night<3

this idea is so good anon ! yes i also like to think he would like being restrained...hes always demanding you to eat him out and stuff omg i have so much thought into this. you also have a good day/night! excuse if this seems so messy, ive never written a trans fic... forgive me o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

jealousy┊scaramouche

PAIRING ┊trans!scara x softdomf!reader GENRE ┊ smut. WC ┊ 1.4k+ WARNINGS ┊ (in this case this is wanderer, but i will call him scara!) , praise , pussy eating(receiving and giving.) , needy scara , tied up , lowercase intended!!! SYNOPSIS ┊ partnering up with kazuha to work with your mission, scara gets jealous, thinking you were going to leave him for kazu...or maybe have more fun around kazuha. you and kazuha are good friends, always play fighting and joking with each other, scara cant stand the thought of you enjoying someone else, so he gets jealous and demands you to eat him out. A/N ┊ written by kam , hope you guys enjoy !

the bustling paths of inazuma were alive with activity as you strolled along, your footsteps in sync with the rhythm of the city. your mission for the day was to work alongside scaramouche, but you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment when you learned he had asked kazuha to accompany you instead.

"looks like it's just you and me today," kazuha remarked with a mischievous smile, his amber eyes sparkling. "let’s make the best of it, shall we?"

you nodded eagerly, having grown fond of kazuha's company over the past few weeks. his carefree nature always brought a sense of joy to any situation. as you embarked on your mission, you and kazuha engaged in playful banter and light-hearted teasing, each teasing comment met with laughter.

little did you know, scara was watching from a distance, his eyes following your every move. He couldn't help but feel jealousy rising within him. his blunt, cold demeanor masked a deeper vulnerability, and the thought of you enjoying someone else's company didn't sit well with him.

as the day wore on, scara’s jealousy escalated. he began to repeatedly mutter under his breath, his words filled with bitterness. "why is everyone drawn to her? can’t they see i’m right here?" he grumbled, unable to hide his frustration.

meanwhile, you and kazu were completely engrossed in your mission, unaware of scara’s growing resentment. the sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink as evening settled in, casting a warm glow on the city. the mission had been a success, but scara couldn't find any solace in that.

finally, unable to contain his envy any longer, scara confronted you as you bid farewell to kazuha with a hug. scaras features contorted with frustration, his voice tinged with a mix of anger and vulnerability. "why do you always have to seek attention from others? can’t you see i’m here too?" he snapped, annoyance evident in his tone.

taken aback by his sudden outburst, you looked at scara, his harsh words only fueling your confusion. "scara, what are you talking about? kazuha and I were just having fun. it doesn't mean I don't appreciate your presence. you paired me up with him, so why are you being like this?!"

"youre being wayy too fucking touchy with him! and exchanging jokes too like as if you dont have me." he crossed his arms, while he puffed his cheeks out, signifying he was irritated. "scara, were just friends and you know that! plus he already has lumine!" you put a hand on your hips.

"yeah but no need to hug him! if you want someone to hug, im here." his forehead popped a vein, clearly telling that he was pissed the thought of you hugging someone other than him. "ugh, im pissed off now. if you enjoy time with him more then get with him." and that made you scoff.

"scara i never said anything about enjoying more with him! look...are you just..jealous?" you came to that conclusion...why else would he be mad, he never acted this way before.

"im not jealous! it was just a violence impulse that took over for a second." he would scoff before shifting his hat to block his face. "so in other words, jealous." you couldn't help but chuckle, and in that moment, he roughly clasped your wrist.

"well im pissed and pent up now! help me." with an effortless grace, he swept you up in a bridal-style embrace, then lifted both of you, soaring towards the direction of your shared abode. "wha-" was the last word you said before he took off.

sooner or later, you both reached your abode, scara gently places you down, harshly grabbing your wrist again. "ah-scara that hurts." your wrist ached at the sides, but your complaints fell on deaf ears as he continued to pull you into the house, heading for your shared room.

you would sigh, before finally speaking. "what do you want? cuddles? kisses?" the echo of scaras firm footsteps resonated through the house as he led you to the room. he harshly pulled you into the bed with him. "eat me out." his words left your eyes open wide.

"seriously..? now?" you eyed at him, intertwining gazes. "im pissed about that kazuha dude, so help me out here!" he can already be seen taking off his garments, till the only armor left visible on him was his black under-suit. "hurry.." he would grab your head, lowering it down to his aching pussy, begging for you to lick and suck on.

"dont order me around." you push his hand off you with a sigh. "ill make it up to you alright..? even though it wasnt my intents to make you jealous.." you whispered the last part. "well then hurry up! need to cum, and we havent been able to do it for so long since you were so fucking busy with missions!" you let out a chuckle. "i know im sorry."

you would move the suit that would cover his heat, revealing his pussy, pustulating on nothing but air. "so eager to be touched already." "mmh hurrryy." he would buck his hips towards you, running out of patience. "now now, no need to hurry, lets make this more exciting for you, mkay?" you eyed at him, before heading to the nearby table stand, you deftly opened the drawer, revealing two soft, neatly folded cloths. with a quick and precise motion, you reached out and secured them in your grasp.

scara rubs his thighs together, looking so...excited. he was biting his lips as he couldnt contain his thrill, he always loved the thought of being tied up. "do you want to try th-" "yes, please." he said with no hesitation. to be honest, you didnt think he would be up for this, so, there you bind his wrists together and then secure a blindfold over his eyes. the thought of not knowing where you would touch next had aroused him so much.

before scara can even say 'hurry', you tongue was already on his clit. sucking and swirling the soft muscle on it. "mmghff~!" scara muffled out, shuddering in pleasure as he moans out. traveling both of your thumbs to his folds, spreading them as you glide your tongue sensually along it. emitting pornographic moans from scaras lips. thighs quivering from the way your tongue skillfully pleasures him.

bucking his hips towards your face more, you take this as in he wanted more...inserting your tongue inside while your thumb caressed small circles on his clit, it sent him into an intoxicating whirlwind of pleasure. eliciting moans here and there. his head thrown back as his hands tried to find something to take hold on.

scara could almost cum on the spot right now...just a bit more and..there you halt your movements. "huh..? hey, whyd you stop..." he would whine, bringing his own fingers to stimulate his clit, but you slap it away. "no touching yourself, plus, im all worked up too." you say and he can hear the sounds of clothes shuffling and falling onto the ground. "lay down." you commanded and he obliged.

and there, youre on top of him, you ass facing him, laid on top of his heat as his arms were secured around you, creating a 69 position. "do it together mk?" he nods eagerly and already starts eating you out like he hasnt eaten in years. your thighs trembles, but that didnt stop you from sucking his clit again. sucking, licking, and fingering his bud had him feeling satisfied, even forgetting why he was pent up in the first place.

moans emitting from your mouth due to the way hes sucking your clit, not even stopping to take a break. stimulating you so hard youre almost at your climax, but you hold it in, wanting to come together with scara. the smell of sex and sweat is filled in the air, tasting his sweet, sweet juices, the flavors dancing delightfully on your tongue. "nnghf! y/n...gonna cum..!" he mutters out, sending vibrations to your clit.

"together..!" were the last words you said before both of the individuals squirted on each others faces. sucking and lapping up the juices that were dripping out. moans and grunts escaping from your lips, and scara tried catching up with his breathing. he let out a sigh, his breath escaping in pants. wet patches staining the bedsheets.

getting off of him, you plop your worn out body next to his. "enjoy?" gently removing the restraints, you tenderly caress his soft cheeks "yeah, whatever." chuckling before kissing his lips. "im tired. lets sleep now." he would mutter out before snuggling himself to your neck. cuddling him to sleep. you guys were exhausted already and you could always clean up the next day. scara forgot all about kazuha, now his worries were gone.

requests open!

#genshinimpact #kk43mi #genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #genshin smut #genshin imagines #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #fanfic #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #genshin scaramouche #scara #kunikuzushi #kabukimono #wanderer genshin #genshin wanderer #smut #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanart

[elysiumblue]

Pick a card - How you view yourself VS How others view you 😳

It's me with another pick a card general reading 😬 Decided to do a topic more that is more general to see what message will come through. The context of the reading is just as the topic. The spread I used is here.

This time, some message is really specific, so don't force it to fit your situation if it doesn't resonate at all. I may need to consider doing more piles next time to get more general messages 😭

👇🏻 Anyway, pick a color that you felt drawn to. 👇🏻

And find the corresponding reading for you below!

Pile 1

It seems that you have self esteem issues. You believe that you are less than others, but you are not working on bettering yourself. Instead, you are putting almost all your energy to comparing yourself to others, finding out how others are better than you. This puts yourself deeper in the problem. The lack of self esteem also makes it very difficult for you to make decisions, as you are always doubting yourself. You tend to wait for others to plan out your life.

Such problem may seems to be impossible to solve in your eyes, but others can see that such problem is not as worse as you think. They believe that it is more like an illusion, and you have the power to get out of it. You are not as doomed as you believe.

The negative mindset may be created as a coping mechanism for something happened in the past. It may be in your brain for years. However, it doesn't mean that you should let it define you. You need to search for the voices within you, instead of rejecting them. It is meaningless to make yourself suffer, and it is not helpful for your spiritual growth at all.

Taking yourself out of the equation is as bad as taking anyone else from the equation. You deserve to better, and the world is waiting for you to stand in your power. Try to make changes in your mindset. Put your happiness as a priority. It will guide you to remember who you truly are, and lead you to reach your highest potential. It may sounds difficult to do so now, but once you start working on it, you will find it very easy for you.

Pile 2

You probably just get out of some nasty stuff, maybe something like being deceived or betrayed. The energy of being hurt and questioning what was going on is still lingering. However, it seems that you have done a great job of withdrawing yourself from the situation! If you are looking at this reading to find confirmation on whether you have handled the situation properly, the answer is yes.

Instead of delving deeper into finding out why they did that to you, you took a leap of faith to get rid of the situation, or cut ties with those people who were sus. You recognize that thinking too much about the situation will only prolong the suffering from it, and that suffering is not that meaningful either. So, you accept the fact that sometimes bad things just happens.

Your decisiveness also grants you new perspectives on relationship in general, as you did not spend too much energy on what happened in the past. You try to earn something from this situation, by learning to recognize the red flags, heal from this kind of stuff, and even try to help others that are affected by similar situations with your experience.

It may be hard to believe, but others think that you're a badass in handing the situation! They believe that you are powerful, and they think that you know your worth. Even for those who may be hurt by your decision, they can't help but admire your boldness for a little bit. 😭 (Actually, I am impressed by your energy too when I am reading the cards 😬😭)

Pile 3

This pile probably has some unsupportive people surrounding you, especially unsupportive family members. If this is not what is happened to you, it may not be your pile, because I feel about this very strongly.

Due to the constant stress and negative feedback from your surroundings, you feel that you lack the ability to make good decisions, doubt everything you do, and some may even believe that you are set for failure. However, this is not true at all!

You are beautiful, admirable, and capable. You are unable to recognize it, but it is not your fault, as the negative mindset is what people feed into your brain. However, people failing you does not mean that you are a failure.

You have the quality to turn this around, and become the beautiful being you are supposed to be. All you lack is the mindset. You can start working on it by believing that you are worthy, and you deserve to receive blessings from the universe, or just good things in general.

Your haters are very nasty. They see your suffering, or know that what they are doing to you is hurtful, but they hope that you never get out of the pain. Some even believe that you don't deserve anything! I feel that they don't even want me to tell you that you're perfectly fine as I feel resistance in getting the message.

However, it is just their opinions, and we know that it is not what you truly are. Also, now you know where your negative mindset comes from. It's not from you! You can make a change, as you are not the problem. It sucks that your family is unsupportive, but their opinions are not the only opinion in the world. I can see that you will find a group that will celebrate you in the future, and receive the love and support that you deserve.

#pick a card #tarot reading #general tarot reading #Spotify

[itsmeatballworld]

| to the night sky |

pairing | daryl dixon x f!reader

summary | It’s autumn in Virginia so Daryl invites Reader to spend a night cuddling under the stars.

wc | 857

warnings | kisses, autumn time in Virginia, and soft boyfriend!daryl... so nah, no warnings <3

a/n | note this has some spoilers for season 9 but nothing crazy. Also posted on my ao3!!

His eyes were so bright. Bluer than the sky. Bluer than the sea.

You’ll remember that ‘til the day you die.

You tore your gaze away for a second, just to glance up at the tiny twinkling lights above.

His callous hand latched onto yours as the hearth outside flickered in and out. “Should get some rest,” Daryl whispered.

“We should.” Your fingers twirled across his rough palm. “But look… damn, look at those stars. They’re beautiful. You gotta look. The clouds are gonna block them.”

Daryl smiled, his eyes never leaving your face as you watched the sky. “Yeah. Beautiful.”

“You didn’t even peek,” you murmured as his hands snuck around to caress your round hips.

“I did too.” His tone was playful as a smirk etched across his lips.

Tonight, the sky was black and painted in tiny twinkling lights. Dark and looming from the east, thick grey clouds slowly began to shadow the moonlight cascading through the trees.

You were somewhere in Virginia between a dried up creek and spacious woods. Location never mattered anymore. You were living—surviving—and enjoying the brief moments of peace left for the breathing.

Colors of cinnamon, brick red, and yellow as bright as corn litter the ground in piles. It was the fleeting beauty of Autumn, until the heavy rains and mud blur the colors in a dark, murky haze.

Atop the little hill was your makeshift campsite. Daryl tugged and tied each layer down as tight as possible. The lopsided tent with a worn clear-plastic sheet roof showed the sky. An old pail near the zipped-up entrance used as Dog’s water bowl. Wool and cotton blankets dragged from Alexandria covered the thin tent floor. The dying light of a small fire pit was nearly out after hours of ignoring its plea for more firewood. Daryl wanted to keep you safe when visiting. Less light, less problems, he’d murmur.

Tonight, you were snuggled up to Daryl. His arm around your waist, pressing your chest to his in a tight embrace. He loved holding your warm body close, trailing his hands up and down your hips and thighs, as if you were his lifeline.

Tonight was perfect. A peaceful autumn night alone with your lover.

“Aye.” He drops his voice. “You should head back in the mornin’. Safer in the sunlight.”

Back. Back to the group. Back to your home in Alexandria. Back to safety and walls.

“Sure,” you mumbled.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you liked being outside the walls of safety. You liked the wondrous and dangerous world surrounding you. Life was precious but you never wanted to waste time living in a bubble. “Come with me?”

Daryl paused, his fingers drawing light circles into your skin. It might not have been words, but you knew his answer. No. He had a job to do. Look for Rick.

You sighed, resting your head into the crook of his neck. “Alright… but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Breathing in deeply you tried to bury the smell of him in your memory. He smelled like homemade soap and tobacco.

“Carol stopped by, huh?”

The stoic man let out a soft chuckle. “You can tell?”

“Soap… a new haircut… blankets without holes? I’d say she prepped you with the good stuff for this weekend.” Those blue eyes were glued on you. His fingers trailed your side until he dug in a bit deeper. He hugged your curves into his body like he never wanted this to end.

“Mmhm.” Daryl smiled. “Good stuff.”

Your hands slipped up his chest, digging your fingers into the cotton tee. “Hole-less blankets,” you giggled. “Gosh, Mr. Dixon, you know just how to please a girl.”

He grumbled as he tugged the waist of your pants down an inch. “Anythin’ for my girl.”

That deep, raspy voice scratched an itch deep in your soul. “Your girl, huh?” Your lips pressed into his as those rough hands wound underneath your clothes.

He grumbled a response as he continued to kiss you deeply. Every morsel of your being tingled and buzzed with excitement to be near him. To be so close to him.

Maybe it was the forced time spent together, but Daryl Dixon is someone you never thought you’d get after the world stopped moving forward. You never thought you’d have a man who loves you so deeply. Who pines for you. Who finds you funny—and genuinely laughs at your jokes. Some days he doesn’t talk much but hugs you from behind and kisses the crook of your neck. It was love. Pure, endless love.

He pulled back from your lips. The hazy look of exhaustion mixed with lust washed over him. “C’mon, I mean it. Get some sleep.”

“How can I when you kiss me like that?” You smiled as those blue eyes lingered on your swollen kiss-stained lips.

Daryl grunted. He pecked the edge of your smile before pulling you into a tight cuddle. “Sleep.”

You closed your eyes.

The night sky was beautiful but all you could think about were those bright blue eyes.

><<>><

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a/n 2.0 | ily *mwah* and ily daryl dixon

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #reader x daryl dixon #y/n x daryl dixon #reader x daryl #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fluff #fluff #daryl dixon x y/n #y/n x daryl #soft and cuteee #<3

[dotthings]

After rewatching 4.19 Jump the Shark, here's some thoughts on hunting, the making of personal connections, and what SPN is about.

As often happens with SPN, the characters themselves play out ruminations on these themes. I barely even have to write commentary.

DEAN What the hell was that? SAM What? DEAN 'Hunting is life. You can't have connections.' Dad gave you that exact same speech, remember? It was just before you ditched us for Stanford. You hated Dad for saying that stuff, and now you're quoting him? SAM Yeah, well, turns out Dad was right. DEAN Since when? SAM Since always. Dean, when I look at Adam, you know what I see? DEAN A normal kid. SAM No. Meat. Because the demons and monsters out there, that's all he is. I hated Dad for a long time. I did. But now I think I understand. So we didn't have a dog and a white picket fence. So what? Dad did right by us. He taught us how to protect ourselves. Adam deserves the same.

Notice how this severe idea that all they can have is this, nothing else, no friends (even friendships with other hunters is frowned upon, John was noticeably isolationist and distrustful and alienated his hunter friends who loved him, like Bobby), no love stories, nothing but the hunt, comes right from John's words.

Dean's shocked to hear it from Sam. In part because Sam always fought John about it and now Sam is quoting John, but in part it's because one of Dean's long arcs is rethinking a lot of John's ideas and finding his own identity outside of being John's shadow, or mimic.

In season 4, as Sam goes deeper and deeper under the influence of demon blood and Ruby's coaching, he goes colder and more ruthless and more remote, less like the Sam we know, and Dean notices more and more.

DEAN Listen to yourself, man. SAM You think I’m wrong? DEAN I think it's too late for us. This is our life. This is who we are, okay? And it's fine. I accept that. But with Adam, he's still got a chance, man. He can go to school. He could be a doctor.

Now it pulls back to Dean's resignation--but it's too late, the words are already out there with Dean questioning it. Too late for the audience not to notice.

While Dean doesn't expressly voice the idea that as hunters, maybe they don't have to sever all personal connections and turn off their hearts, it's self-evidently on Dean's mind. He doesn't see much hope for himself. That doesn't mean he isn't thinking it. And it's a very obvious part of the canon story for the run of the show.

As usual with SPN, two things can be true at once. Or there's a seed of truth but it's an incomplete truth. It is difficult to form and maintain connections in the hunting life, even with other hunters in the life. That doesn't mean Sam and Dean don't have any or can't have any. SPN self evidently shows they absolutely did, right along. Not just with each other.

Found family--the forging of connections, the human heart--is part of the life's blood of the story and always has been.

Dean in particular, throughout the series, has been adept at forming these connections and caring. He may at times try to shut himself away because it feels safer. The other people get less hurt. He'll get less hurt. But always he lets them in, he always cares.

It's easier with other hunters. People in the life with them, who understand that life.

John's narrow worldview of hunting, the ruthlessness, that's mirrored in Sam in this episode, and the idea that they can't have anyone else--isn't presented as the right answer.

Dean, as the series goes on, moves more and more into living the hunting life in a way that's by his own definitions, his own way, not his father's dictates. Despite the challenges of the hunting life. Dean makes his own rules.

We also see more instances of people in the hunting life who don't live by the extreme isolationist ideas of John Winchester. In fact, it turns out John was unusual and that hunters are sociable with each other, even if the life can be harsh and isolating. There's a hunting community. We only see glimpses of it early on because John kept Sam and Dean unusually isolated due to the circumstances of his particular quest, the YED.

But Sam and Dean are not their father. They forge their own path.

Most of all, SPN is a story about the connections that form between people--including the brothers, but not limited solely to the brothers.

SAM Dean...all this...it's not real. The dad Adam knew—he wasn't real. The things out there in the shadows—they are real. The world is coming to an end. That's real. Everything else is just part of the crap people tell themselves to get through the day.

You know what popped into my head when Sam said that? Dean's voice telling Cas in 4.22 -- You know what's real? People, families -- that's real.

Sam falls into a dark despairing mindset where all he can see is monsters and he is losing his heart. 4.19 ends on an ominous note

DEAN You know, I finally get why you and Dad butted heads so much. You two were practically the same person. SAM looks over. DEAN I mean, I worshipped the guy, you know? I dressed like him, I acted like him, I listen to the same music. But you were more like him than I will ever be. And I see that now. SAM I'll take that as a compliment. DEAN You take it any way you want.

Dean's coming to some realizations about his own hero-worship and imitation of his father, and seeing how he's not in fact, his father, no matter how much he fears it (or used to wish for it), and learning how much Sam is the one who is more like John than he is, despite Sam's lack of imitation and worship.

And without their friends who are like family, Sam and Dean aren't ever finding their way out of this thicket. They'd be lost, the world would be lost.

SPN is first and foremost about love.

#Dean meta #Sam meta #spn meta

[mermaidfanficlibrary]

A Free Churro?

T/W: Death, funeral, ooc, bad parent relationships, a bit deep just for a crack fic, reader is depressed. Yuu is his own person and uses he/him pronouns. Fic under the cut

a/n: sorry if this is Y/n centered and not all the characters have a reaction but this is a monologue and to sort of stay true to the actual monologue there really isn't supposed to be any response. Also writing this like super late so sorry if its incoheirent. I could do individual scenarios and go deeper into each of their reaction if this is well recieved

Heres the referance if you wanna listen along both links are the same monologue

Housewardens, vice housewardens, Aduece duo, Yuu, and Grimm: *All sitting in the audience of the funeral. Not knowing why they were invited, beside Yuu and Grimm. They all stare at the casket, unsure who it was.*

Y/n: *Walks out and starts the eulogy but first starts to explain why they were late* So I stopped at a drive thru place on the way here, and the girl behind the counter said, “Hiya! Are you having an awesome day?” Not, “How are you doing today?” No. “Are you having an awesome day?” Which is pretty… shitty, because it puts the onus on me to disagree with her, like if I’m not having an “awesome day,” suddenly I’m the negative one.

Housewardens, vice housewardens, Aduece duo, Yuu, and Grimm: *All gasp from Y/n's sudden explanation of the interaction between them and the lady behind the counter.*

Y/n: *continues to explain the interactions and how it went down* Usually when people ask how I’m doing, the real answer is "I’m doing shitty", but I can’t say I’m doing shitty because I don’t even have a good reason to be doing shitty. So if I say, “I’m doing shitty,” then they say, “Why? What’s wrong?” And I have to be like, “I don’t know, all of it?” So instead, when people ask how I’m doing, I usually say, “I am doing so great.”

Housewardens, vice housewardens, and the Aduece duo: *Are in shock about knowing Y/n's true feelings*

Y/n: *sighed going on trying to finish the story* But when this girl at the drive thru place asked me if I was having an awesome day, I thought, “Well, today I’m actually allowed to feel shitty.” Today I have a good reason, so I said to her, “Well, my mom died,” and she immediately burst into tears. So now I have to comfort her, which is annoying, and meanwhile, there’s a line of people forming behind me who are all giving me these real judgy looks because I made the Drive thru girl cry. And she’s bawling, and she’s saying, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” and I’m like, “It’s fine. It’s fine.” I mean, it’s not fine but, you know, it’s… fine. And I would like to order a Double Burger Meal, and I’ve kinda got somewhere to be, so maybe less with the crying and more with the frying, huh? And the girl apologizes again and she offers me a free churro with my meal. And as I’m leaving, I think, “I just got a free churro because my mom died.” No one ever tells you that when your mom dies, you get a free churro.

Housewardens, vice housewardens, and the Aduece duo: *At a loss for words, not knowing how to react. Feeling unsure if they should coverse with each other or stay silent. They chose to stay silent*

Y/n: Anyway, I’m sorry, that’s not part of the... *clears their throat trying to think of what to say next* All right. Okay, here we go. Let’s do this. Here I am, Y/n L/n, doing a eulogy, let’s go. *Goes on a monologue explaining the strained relationship between their mother and them.*

Ace: *Whispers to Yuu, Deuce, and Grimm* Never knew Y/n could hate someone so much

Riddle: *Speaks in a hushed voice* Ace, be quiet and listen to Y/n!

Housewardens: *All look at Y/n seeing how much they're struggling. Vil recognizes this to be a monologue.*

Malleus: *Confused as to how someone could hate a parental figure this much.*

Riddle: *Seemed to understand the pain of Y/n hating their mother. The other house wardens just watched, worried.*

Vice housewardens: *All sit patiently, trying to understand Y/n's trailing off. Jamil had the most concern out of the vice housewardens*

Grimm: *Grabs Yuu's hands with his small paw* I'm worried for Y/n*

Yuu: *looks to Grimm with a solemn look* I am too, but let's just listen right now. Might be good for them to get it out.

Y/n: *Sighs and looks at the casket once more reminiscing about when both their parents were alive.* My dad died about ten years ago of injuries he sustained during a duel. When your father dies, you ask yourself a lot of questions. Questions like, “Wait, did you say he died in a duel?” and “Who dies in a duel?”

Aduece duo, Yuu, and Grimm: *Look at Y/n confused as to where this story is going. Ace and Deuce were trying not to laugh at the duel part.*

Housewardens and vice housewardens: *Stare at Y/n in disbelief, not knowing they could have such a messed up past. Riddle and Leona understanding the feeling of strained relationships with family*

Y/n: *Chuckled to themselves as they explain the story of their father's duel.* The whole thing was so stupid. Dad spent his entire life writing this book, but he couldn’t get any stores to carry it or any newspapers to review it. Finally, I guess this one newspaper thought he was pretty hilarious, because they ran a review and tore him to shreds. So my father, ever the proud Mary, decided he would not stand for this besmirchment of his honor. He claimed the critic didn’t understand what it meant to be a man, so he demanded satisfaction in the form of pistols at dawn. He wrote the paper this letter, saying anyone who didn’t like his book, he would challenge to a duel, anyone in the world. He’d even pay for airfare to San Francisco and a night in a hotel. Well, eventually this found its way to some kook in Montana, who was as batshit as he was and took him up on the offer. They met at Golden Gate Park and agreed: ten paces, then shoot. But in the middle of the ten paces, Dad turned to ask the guy if he’d actually read the book and what he thought, but, not looking where he was going, tripped over an exposed root and bashed his head on a rock.

Housewardens, vice housewardens, Aduece duo, Yuu, and Grimm: *All look at each other, then look back to Y/n. Some of them have a very clear reaction on their face while others had a straight face. They all had a similar thought in their head* 'How can someone leave their kid do fight in a duel'

Y/n: *Sees their friends' reactions, but goes on with their thoughts as it forms the on spot eulogy they are giving. Y/n starts to recall a time where they saw their mom decently okay.* My mom used to hold these glorious parties, they were really something. There were skits and magic acts, and very insensitive vaudeville routines, and the big finale was always a dance my mother did.

Housewardens, vice housewardens, Aduece duo, Yuu, and Grimm: *Were all intrigued at the scene. Vil had the most interist since pereforming was something he was well versed in*

Y/n: *Continues to go on seemingly imersed by the memories they had of the parties* She had this beautiful dress that she only brought out for these parties, and she did this incredible number. It was so beautiful and sad. Dad hated the parties. He’d lock himself in the study, and bang on the walls for us to keep it down, but he always came out to see Mom dance. He’d linger in the doorway, scotch in hand, and watch in awe, as this cynical, despicable woman he married… took flight. 

Yuu: *Was the most worried out of the group that was there, wanting to run up and hug Y/n as he seemingly knew where this was going.*

Grimm: *Looked at Yuu and noticed the discomfort he felt and let Yuu hold his paw* It'll be okay, Y/n will be okay.

Aduece duo: *Place a hand on both of Yuu's shoulders, seemingly comforting him. The two of them watch Y/n with sadness in their eyes.*

Y/n: *Their eyes start to water slightly as they take a shaky breath* And as a child who was completely terrified of both my parents, I was always aware that this moment of grace, it meant something. We understood each other in a way. Me and my mom and my dad, as screwed up as we all were, we did understand each other. My mother, she knew what it’s like to feel your entire life like you’re drowning, with the exception of these moments, these very rare, brief instances, in which you suddenly remember… you can swim.

Octavinelle trio: *Seemingly understood what Y/n meant by the drowning metaphore, all three of them were worried. The one who felt the most worry was Azul*

Y/n: *Looks at the casket with teary eyes, knowing this sad but beautiful memory in their head wasn't truly happy* But then again, mostly not. Mostly you’re drowning. She understood that, too. And she recognized that I understood it. And Dad. All three of us were drowning, and we didn’t know how to save each other, but there was an understanding that we were all drowning together. And I would like to think that that’s what she meant when we were in the hospital and she said, “I see you.”

Housewardens, vice housewardens, Aduece duo, Yuu, and Grimm:

Y/n: *goes on to explain their personal relationships. But then stops realizing they've been going on and on missing the point of where they were going. They take a deep breath.* I’m not gonna stand up here and pretend I ever understood how to please that woman, even though so much of my life has been wasted in vain attempts to figure it out.

Housewardens, vice housewardens, Aduece duo, Yuu, and Grimm: *Notice Y/n becoming more sad the further they go on. They all wanted to get up and hug Y/n, but thought it best for them to continue the eulogy*

Y/n: *Chuckles slightly now remembering another moment before their mother died* But I keep going back to that moment in the ICU when she looked at me, and… “I-C-U.”

Housewardens, vice housewardens, Aduece duo, Yuu, and Grimm: *All of them have their eyes widen as they come to a realization. They all stare at Y/n wondering if they caught what they just said*

Y/n: *Speaks slowly as tears well in their eyes. Their voice is soft as they peice everything together* “I… see… you.” Jesus Christ, we were in the intensive care unit. She was just reading a sign. 

Housewardens: *Notice the tears in Y/n's eyes as they all feel bad.*

Y/n: *sighs and looks down, not wanting to face their friends in the room* My mom died and all I got was this free churro.

Grimm and Aduece: *Stare at Y/n, unsure what they should do after the funeral survice with Y/n*

Y/n: *Looks at everyone with eyes glazed with anger and sadness. Their tone was bitter as they point outside the funeral parlor door.* You know the shittiest thing about all of this? Is when that stranger behind the counter gave me that free churro, that small act of kindness showed more compassion than my mother gave me her entire goddamn life. Like, how hard is it to do something nice for a person? This woman at the Drive Thru place didn’t even know me. 

Housewardens, vice housewardens, Aduece duo, Yuu, and Grimm: *Most of them seemingly understood Y/n's frustration. The only two who didn't were Malleus and Floyd, but they listened hoping to understand*

Y/n: *Looks at the casket with tears falling down their eyes. Their town is full of anger as they point at themselves* I’m your son! All I had was you! 

Housewardens, vice housewardens, Aduece duo, Yuu, and Grimm: *Were even more worried as they see Y/n start to cry and hear the desperation in their voice*

Y/n: *Their town shifts to a more happy tone, but its a light happinesss.* I have this friend. And right around when I first met her, her dad died, and I actually went with her to the funeral. And months later, she told me that she didn’t understand why she was still upset, because she never even liked her father.

Housewardens, vice housewardens, Aduece duo, and Grimm: *All look at Yuu wanting to know if he knew of Y/n's friend and who she was*

Yuu: *Ignores the stares of the others and just watches Y/n intentivley, trying to memorize every detail so he could help Y/n decompress afterwards*

Y/n: *Smiles sadly, not knowing where to land their gaze* It made sense to me, because I went through the same thing when my dad died. And I’m going through the same thing now.

Housewardens, vice housewardens, Aduece duo, and Grimm: *Were all curious, wanting to know more on how Y/n handled their father's death*

Yuu: *Only listened on knowing exactly what Y/n went through when their father died because Y/n told him*

Y/n: *Eyes widen once more, finding a connection between something an their mother's death* You know what it’s like? It’s like that show Becker, you know, with Ted Danson? I watched the entire run of that show, hoping that it would get better, and it never did. It had all the right pieces, but it just—it couldn’t put them together.

Housewardens, vice housewardens, Aduece duo, and Grimm: *All have a curious stare at Y/n and Yuu not knowing what Becker was or what Y/n was talking about, but seemingly understanding the sentamet of the connection*

And when it got canceled, I was really bummed out, not because I liked the show, but because I knew it could be so much better, and now it never would be. And that’s what losing a parent is like. It’s like Becker.

Aduece duo *look at Yuu with curious eyes.*

Ace: *Speaks first as his hand is still on Yuu's shoulder* What's Becker?

Yuu: *Doesn't look at the Aduece duo, only focused on Y/n. Speaks in a hushed town* It's a show. I'll explain what it's about to everyone later...

Y/n: *Shudders through the tears trying to finish the connection to the show they just mentioned and the moment going on right now* Suddenly, you realize you’ll never have the good relationship you wanted, and as long as they were alive, even though you’d never admit it, part of you, the stupidest goddamn part of you, was still holding on to that chance. And you didn’t even realize it until that chance went away.

Housewardens, vice housewardens, Aduece duo, Yuu, and Grimm: *They all have a sympathetic gaze on Y/n, some trying to understand what Y/n meant.*

Riddle and Yuu: *Seemingly were the only two who understood Y/n's desires for a better relationship witht heir mother*

Y/n: *Looks at the casket with tears in their eyes and a frustrated tone as all their friends watched* My mother is dead...And everything is worse now because now I know I will never have a mother who looks at me from across a room and says, “Y/n L/n, I see you.”

Housewardens, vice housewardens, Aduece duo, Yuu, and Grimm: *All gasped, minus Yuu, at Y/n's statement about their mother's death. They all felt more saddened at what Y/n had admitted to wanting to be seen*

Y/n: *Takes a deep breath as tears still roll down their cheeks* But I guess it’s good to know. It’s good to know that there is nobody looking out for me, that there never was, and there never will be.

Aduece duo, Yuu, and Grimm: *They start to feel guilty because they want to be there for Y/n, the way Y/n wants them to be there.*

Y/n: *sighs and wipes their tears away, finally accepting the realization they had* No, it’s good to know that I am the only one that I can depend on. And I know that now, and it’s good. It’s good that I know that. So… it’s good my mother is dead.

Housewardens, vice housewardens, Aduece duo, Yuu, and Grimm: *All shocked but try not to make any noise. They watch and see Y/n trail off trying to end the eulogy. They also feel upset that Y/n feels so alone and that they need to feel independent. Malleus feels the worst because he doesn't understand how Y/n feels.*

Y/n: *ends the eulogy and sighs, walking out of the room not wanting to face anyone*

Housewardens, vice housewardens, Aduece duo, Yuu, and Grimm: *Watches Y/n leave, unsure if they should follow or not.*

A/n: This is part my Bojack Horseman brainrot so I'm happy this is the first post! Hope it made you sad? idk it made me tear up a bit. This is part of the Free Churro monologue in the Bojack Horseman Episode Free Churro which is Episode 6 Season 5.

Taglist: @nightshade-clown

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

#🪸.mermaid time #🪸.mermaid shitpost #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland shitpost #twisted wonderland incorrect quotes #twst #twst incorrect quotes #twst shitpost #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland x y/n #twisted wonderland x male reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #twst x male reader #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twst x you #twst x y/n #bojack horseman #bojack horseman quotes #free churro #free churro monologue #this made me cry #This monologue is amazing #Youtube #Spotify

[obae-me]

Hi! This is a submission for the practice prompts! For the hurt/comfort trope maybe Mc went to the human world and cant go back to the devildom like in the first game and they called all the brothers and the brothers had it on speaker and throughout their talk mc says i miss you guys and their voice cracks and they start crying and the brothers get emotional and some start crying while others comfort mc and tell them that they’ll see them soon enough.

Also don’t push your self to much! The brain will work when it wants to lol, in the mean time don’t forget to take care of yourself!

Ah, this is such a good idea (and a sad one, poor mc). Thank you for the blurb prompt, and don't worry, we're working on self care this year!

--

Another black mark through another square. The ink from the pen crossed off another day. Physical calendars hadn't always been their thing, but ever since they came back... well... something about marking off the days one-by-one helped ground them. This wasn't a dream. This was real.

Funny, wasn't it? How just one year in the Devildom made that place feel like reality, like home. And now, up in the human world, the place they'd been essentially their entire life, everything felt off.

To make matters worse, Diavolo was limiting contact between them all. Phone calls were getting less frequent, scheduled visits further and further apart. The prince said it was due to humans needing to live their own lives, and the less the realm was disturbed by demons, the better. It was torture.

It was...lonely.

The sound of the phone ringing snapped them out of their thoughts, clicking the pen shut before racing over to where they'd left their device on the kitchen counter.

It was them.

The call was clicked open, a chorus of voices ringing through, almost making MC's ears ring. They chuckled, feeling their heart flutter and break all at the same time. But they persevered, smiling, putting the call on speakerphone and setting the phone back down on the table, sitting in the seat and leaning forward on their elbows.

"MC!"

"Heya!"

"Hi, hun!"

"Yo."

"How are you?"

"It's nice to hear your voice."

"Sleeping okay?"

The words caught in their throat before they managed to speak. "I'm fine. Just...adjusting." Some sharp lump suddenly formed in their throat, warmth pooling from their eyes and dripping down their cheeks silently. "I-" Their voice cracked, every voice on the other line falling into silence. "I miss you so much," they finally finished, the dam on their emotions breaking as their chest began to hitch as they sobbed quietly behind their hands. "Take me home. I want to go home."

Still unresponsive on the other end. But if they listened closely enough, they could've sworn they heard sniffs echo their own. Mammon's voice finally broke through. "H-Hey, none of that, okay?! Whaddya think you're doing, getting all emotional and stuff? This call was supposed to make you happy, yeah? So... stop it, ya hear? No more cryin'..."

A deeper, calmer voice took over. "Mammon is right. Let us not shed tears over something like this. We won't be apart forever."

Another voice hummed in agreement. "That's right. We'll see you soon, MC. Just hold out for a little longer, okay?"

"We can't wait to see you again."

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines