#melly talks fic

[melis-writes]

at this point, i can do nothing but keep writing and meme myself 💀😂

#melly talks #the other woman fic #updates

[belltrigger]

Hmmm Stop for the lads 🤔🤔 maybe bot emmet and botmaker Ingo :U? Or ehehe you could do yemmet and oingo 😤😤😤

-Send me a “Stop” and I’ll write a drabble about one character calming the other down (from anger, jealously, etc)

Hello!!! Stop, hm~? q(≧▽≦q) Okay okay let's see what I can do here.

Title: Just Call Me Emmet Word count: 1,196 Synopsis: Emmet has arrived in Hisui with relatively little issue. However, a habit that Ingo has unconsciously picked up has accidentally upset Emmet. Dynamic: NoboKuda, older Ingo/younger Emmet (Oingo/Yemmet)

~~*~~

"Hey Ingo?"

Emmet's light voice broke the gentle silence that had settled between them as they prepared dinner together. It was a welcome change from how Emmet had sounded when he first arrived in Hisui, tired and tattered, exhausted after a search he'd thought would go on forever. The manic joy he'd shown when it finally registered that he'd found Ingo had smoothed into a beaming happiness as Emmet firmly grasped the idea that Ingo was not going to disappear again.

It was natural enough to welcome Emmet into the house given to him by Irida-sama. Memories or not, the easy comfort he had with Emmet could not be ignored, and the idea of Emmet living with him felt right. Despite not seeing each other for so long (longer for him, with the physical changes that came along with it), they fell into an natural rhythm. Though Ingo only barely remembered him, it didn't deter Emmet. Every day, his twin smiled brightly at him, and told him a little bit more about their shared life before Ingo had vanished. Although he refrained from doing it in public, substituted with merely brushing their knuckles together when they stood close enough, Emmet held his hand whenever possible in their home. Emmet spoke warmly of their closeness, and had even revealed the truth of their relationship. In addition to being twins, they were also lovers, and that Ingo had been the one to first confess.

As honest and true as it felt, Ingo thought it improper to reveal the nature of their relationship to those around them. So, he introduced Emmet as his brother to everyone he knew, and his twin's easy cheer endeared him to nearly everyone they met. If anyone thought it odd that Emmet stood so close to him, then they kept it to themselves.

Today, though, Emmet had met Melli. The long-haired man had long proven himself willing to cause trouble for others just to hassle Ingo, but it would have been rude to exclude him from meeting Emmet. After all, his issue with Melli was solely because his mischief caused safety concerns for other people. Emmet was an adult, and astute at reading people, so he should be free to create his own opinion of others.

"Why does Melli dislike you?" Emmet casually chopped some vegetables, only looking up at Ingo when he'd paused cutting and set down the knife.

"Hm, I honestly cannot fathom his reason." Where Emmet had been in charge of the vegetables, Ingo worked on preparing the stock for their stew. "Gaeric-sama believed he wanted my attention, but that seems like a pretty fool-hardy way to receive it."

Emmet made a sound, one that Ingo could not place. It was like a hum in thought caught in the throat, smothered in an attempt to hide it. Glancing up in confusion, his eyebrows knit together at the state his twin was in.

He could practically see Emmet vibrate, expression somehow becoming more intense despite his lips still turned up in a v-shaped smile. The young man who looked like he must surely have once, when he was easily decades younger, watched him without blinking. It was almost like staring down an angry Alpha pokemon.

"Emmet-sama?"

The smile on Emmet's face stiffened more. "Emmet. I am Emmet." Ingo tilted his head in confusion, sure that was what he'd said. The name was firm in his heart, a knowledge that had been just on the edges of his faded and blurred memories from before.

"Yes," Ingo said softly, trying to gauge where Emmet was going with his sudden mood change. Emmet turned to him, hands balled into fists at his side. He'd not realized the meeting with Melli had angered him so much.

But, instead of anger like he'd anticipated, Emmet's expression started to crumple. Although the smile remained, the skin under his lip bunched up as if Emmet was incapable of frowning. "Just call me Emmet," he choked out. "Don't call me the same as everyone else..." He brought the heel of his left palm up to his eye, already rubbing to hide any wetness that sprung up there.

Very gently, "Oh Emmet," came out before he could think of anything else. and he reached out a hand for Emmet's other. Without hesitation, despite still scrubbing at his eye, Emmet took his hand. Giving his twin's hand a squeeze he hoped was comforting, he brought his other hand up to try and coax Emmet to stop rubbing at his eyes. "My apologies, I did not mean to upset you."

"Does Ingo like someone else? Someone he doesn't call the same way?" Emmet stubbornly kept one hand up to his eyes, so he couldn't see the surprise on Ingo's face. In fact, he also didn't see the furrowing of Ingo's brows that quickly followed after. "Is it Mel--"

Emmet couldn't continue, because Ingo kissed him then, firmly, sternly. It was not romantic, not by half, and Ingo would surely make up for it once he convinced his quite silly twin that his worries were unfounded. Releasing both of Emmet's hands to wrap his arms around his younger brother's waist, he put their foreheads together. Emmet had no choice but to lower his hand, and after a moment he placed both of his hands on Ingo's now much thicker biceps.

The little flick of Emmet's eyes to his arms was not missed, but he would approach that later. "Do you think I would kiss anyone but you? My memories have failed me, that much is certain, but I still thought of you every day. This mouth is reserved for the Man in White only." The amusement in his tone for the last sentence eased a bit of tension out of Emmet's shoulders, and his lip no longer quivered.

"Only the Man in White? If I wore green would you have not recognized me?" It was half a tease, suggesting Emmet worried even over something so silly.

"Best not wear green. These old eyes aren't quite what they used to be. I'd have to lean in close to recognize your cute face." Another tease, and he rubbed their foreheads together, pleased when Emmet let out a quiet chuckle.

"Then I would get another kiss!" Emmet declared, turning more playful by the moment now that his worried had finally been spoken. "I am Emmet. I will wear many colors!"

With an approving hum, Ingo hugged his younger brother tighter. "I'll just keep kissing you to be sure, then."

Emmet slid his face down to rest his forehead on Ingo's shoulder, though his hands didn't move from Ingo's biceps. "And hugging?"

"And hugging, of course. I will give you anything you need for proof." They hugged for a few minutes, the sound of their stew stock bubbling away as they simply enjoyed the embrace. Finally, Emmet leaned back and seemed to feel much better. His smile was bright again, no longer strained, and he cheerfully went back to finish the vegetables.

After that, Ingo made certain to always allow Emmet to brush his knuckles against his. And, he even held his hand in public on occasion.

#blankshipping #blankshipping prompt fic #Bell Fic #valoricky #At first I was going to do the Lady and Lord thing but #I like -sama better and the thing about Ingo using -sama to refer to everyone in Hisui.... #It occurred to me later that I don't have screenshots of when Ingo talks about Melli but #for the sake of the story let's assume he also calls him -sama #submas

[mellinelli]

you know how some people are all “wardens get special gifts that mark them as special” or whatever?

Melli being p much immune to electricity because of their warden status, and full on floating if they get hit with enough of it. noticeable floating wouldn’t happen much, just as a kind of, last resort to keep him alive

i know the hisuian version of electrode is different, but please refer to the dex entry for the solely electric type from some of the games: “It is known to drift on winds if it is bloated to bursting with stored electricity.” the giant pokeballs can float

there’s almost certainly an upper limit to this, but please picture Melli in the future touching the third rail of train tracks and floating instead of the alternative

#headcanons #personals don't reblog #i mean i guess it's a headcanon. i'm not sure i'm running with it yet #i just wanted to share the thought #because it made me laugh so hard #Melli just like. floating. unable to get down or move around much because it's not like it happens much #gets joltiks tossed at him #was talking to someone about it in a server and that /totally/ happens to that version of Melli #but that one's based off how the person i was talking to is running a fic #and doesn't run the exact same as tumblr #also unrelated to the floating but we took a detour through feels station tonight it was unexpected yet fantastic

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life in the City 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: Probably calling in today. Also will hopefully be working on more Dirty Work for tomorrow.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You’ve been waiting for Friday all week. You need this. A girl’s night, just you and Melanie, a bottle of wine, a bowl of popcorn, and your favourite nostalgic blockbuster. You even got a brand new pair of cozy jammies for the occasion.

And it’s your first official get together at your new apartment. Your very own. No more roommates, no more arguments over dishes and dust and a shared bathroom. It’s all yours! It’s almost like a housewarming, even if it is just a bachelor suite.

A new home, a new city, and an old friend. You haven't seen Melanie in years. You keep in touch here and there but she always seems to have so much going on. Now you're in the same place, it won't be so hard.

You bounce in the door, excited to get started on your prep. You leave your work bag in the entryway beside your shoes as your mind runs a mile ahead of you. You’ll fold out the futon couch and throw all your pillows on it. And the extra comforter can go on top. And you’ll put a scarf over the lamp, oh, and you got some candy for the spread. 

It’s a bit childish but it’s been so long since you could just throw away your daily toil and forget. No overtime, no grind, just a night to reconnect and refresh. You grab your bag from the short hallway and take out the clay masks you bought at the drugstore on your way home, you thought that would be so cute!

You pull out your phone and search for the digital rental on your account, wanting it ready to cast as soon as Melanie’s there. Your screen suddenly lights up with an incoming call, interrupting your browsing. You answer, excitedly greeting your best friend.

“Melly Bean,” you chime, “I was just getting everything ready–”

“Oh, really?” Her voice is willowy, “that’s… I’m sorry.”

“What?” You clutch your hand in front of your stomach, your chest filling with dread. You know that tone.

“I totally forgot and I made other plans–”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s shitty but I really can’t cancel and we can do it next week, right? I’ll host. I have a bottle of rose here, or I could make some sangria–”

“Uh, yeah,” you feel like you’ve been punched, “yeah, sure, that’s… that’s fine. Things happen.” You shake your head at yourself as you try to stem your disappointment, “good thing I didn’t even get started…” You look at the futon, covered in pillows and the fluffy pink duvet, “I actually just got in the door, long day at work–”

“You ready?” A distant, deep voice creeps under your rambling from the speaker.

“Sorry, I gotta go,” she interrupts, “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Again, I’m sorry. I’m so stupid. I should’ve put it in my calendar.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure her softly, “call me. Talk later, Mel–”

The line dies before you can finish your sentence. You pull the phone away and frown at the timed out call. You sniff and toss it onto the futon. Well, you can still have a good night. Alone. Catch up on a show and pamper yourself. Your skin is getting a bit patchy.

Or just lay here and watch the same thing you watch every night. Suddenly, you have no energy. You flop onto the mattress, the metal frame creaking loudly, and sigh. Another lazy night, all by yourself.

🏙️

Melanie doesn't answer your call on Saturday. You try not to dwell on it but you know she's not working. Her nine-to-five keeps her planted at her desk Monday to Friday, just like you. Well, you can't be mad at her for having a life.

She texts on Sunday. Just a short but sweet confirmation for next Friday. A heart emoji along with a promise that you'll see each other then. You can bring all your snacks and the face masks, and even your cute new pajamas. Her place must be a lot nicer than yours on her executive assistant salary.

A new week begins but Monday isn't as difficult as usual. You have something to look forward to. Again. This time, it will actually happen.

You spend your days with the spreadsheets and menial reports. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday all blend together into an endless slog but Friday comes around with a special shine. It's the day. 

You breeze through the day, lighter than usual. You even packed everything up so you could commute straight to Melanie's place. She's been texting, saying she's excited. Well, she sent a message at 10:38am. 

It'll be just like in high school, when you sat up all night and giggled. Except this time, you're not too young for the movie you're watching. No, you'll be just like the metropolitan women you watched on the screen, gal pals!

You take the twelve out towards the east side of the city and get off a few blocks from her building, at least according to your GPS. You walk in a full circle before you get your bearings and end up just outside the grated door. You tap the small button to buzz her number and wait. It's a lot fancier than your apartments.

You ring several times without answer, your stomach swimming with nerves. What if she got caught up in something? Could she forget in the  eight hours since her last message? Are you in the wrong place? You check the address again.

You hear someone come up the walkway and sidle aside to let them in. You consider sneaking in after them but you don't know if you should. They might not like that or you might get in trouble. You stand back as the man glances at you and gives a nod. He keys in a code and buzzes himself in. You scrunch your lips, helplessly floundering on the edge of the steps.

"Coming in?" He holds the door.

"Oh, uh," you catch the handle, "sure, I just... my friend wasn't answering."

"No worries, don't look like much of a criminal to me," he kids.

You chuckle quietly, forcing it out nervously as you follow him inside. The entryway is white with silver trimmings and the lobby opens up to a set of two elevators. You look at your phone again, confirming Melanie's apartment number. The man strides on confidently and hits the button, the doors dinging and sliding apart.

"Going up?" He prompts as he puts his hand in front of the censor.

"Uh, sure," you scurry forward. You suppose taking the stairs might be a lot with all the weight in your knapsack.

"Floor?" He trails you into the elevator.

"Um, seventh."

"Ah, what a coincidence," he taps seven and the doors close.

You bring up your chat with Melanie and text her. Hopefully, you're not too early. You don't want to surprise her. You key in that you're there and on your way up.

The door open again and the stranger once more lets you through first. You check the numbers on the plates on the wall; 700 - 710 to the right. You turn and the man heads in the same direction. How awkward. You hold the door to the hallway for him and he catches it, not far behind you. You count the doors until you find 704. 

You stop and knock, stepping closer to let the stranger pass. He doesn't. He stops and laughs as he rubs his palms together. You peek over at him. Oh shoot, you have to be in the wrong place. It explains the no answer and you're standing at his door knocking. You must seem like a crazy person--

The door opens before you can figure out what's going on and Melanie's 'hello' goes from a high squeal to dull disappointment. You look at her as her eyes flit between you and the stranger at your shoulder. She laughs and tosses her hair back.

"Oh, uh, come in," she waves you inside, "movie night, right?"

She rubs her neck as she steps aside, your stomach flipping entirely. Did she forget? Really?

"Um, I forgot to mention..." she says slowly, "Clark's joining us. He's never seen the movie before so I thought..."

"That's fine, but er, I can... just go. I thought..."

"I didn't forget," she insists as the man enters with hesitation, "promise, I just... invited my boyfriend."

"Right, boyfriend," you turn to the stranger, Clark, she said his name is, "hi."

You introduce yourself and he repeats his name. He's handsome and tall. As far as you can tell, he's nice too. The cleft in his chin gives him a rugged handsome news and his eyes a bright and blue. He fits Melanie perfectly. She's changed a lot more than you knew.

You give a strained smile and look around. Her apartment is so nice. You're happy she hadn't seen yours after all. As you try to figure out what to do, she approaches Clark and stands on her toes to kiss him. You keep your eyes on the floor and turn, distracting yourself with your shoes as you peel them off.

"I brought snacks," you say as you unhook your bag from one shoulder, "for the movie--"

"Oh, I'm on a diet. No carbs, no sugar... mostly water and lettuce," she trills, "sorry."

"I...It's okay," you try not to wince as you struggle to free yourself of the heavy bag.

"Here," Clark startles you as he grabs your bag by the handle on top and helps lift it off your left shoulder. You pull your arms free and he carries it to the table, planting it on top beside the tall vase of white orchids. 

"Thanks," you say as you inch forward, anxious about messing up the unlivable pristine apartment, "you can share the snacks... if you're not on a diet."

"I'd love to," he accepts, "should I make up the couch?"

"Uh, sure," Melanie flutters her fingers at him, "I guess that makes sense."

You notice how she bites into her glossy lower lip and looks around desperately. She's wearing a pretty black dress and there's a sparkly clutch on the half-circle table by the wall. You thought Melanie would be your one piece of home in the city but now you feel even more out of place. Uninvited.

"If it's a bad time," you begin.

"I told you," she snips, "I didn't forget. Duh, you think I'm an airhead or something?"

"N-no--"

"I know you went and got your fancy degrees," she sniffs, "but I don't need paper to tell me I have a brain."

"I didn't mean--"

"Mel, cool it," Clark chuckles lightly, "no biggie. I like a night in," he shrugs, "I'll grab some blankets and pillows. We can have a sleepover."

"Sleepover?" She nearly hisses at him, "well, tomorrow--"

"We'll all sleep in and I'll take you ladies to breakfast. Or brunch," he unzips your knapsack and takes out the tall bottle of wine, "depending on how much you indulge." 

"Oh, I can take care of all that," you offer as you near the table.

"You're our guest," he insists as he holds onto the bottle, "hon, you wanna get some glasses?"

You hear the gentle sigh escape Melanie before she replies, "fine."

You wring your hands in front of your chest and hover by the table. You hate this. You feel like you've intruded on their night but you thought...

Your heart sinks as you think of the message; 'looking forward to tonight'. She sent it to the wrong person. She must realise that too.

"Mel will pour us some wine," Clark says loudly, "did you wanna help my grab some blankets and stuff?"

You just nod, thankful for his diversion. Anything to keep you from wallowing in your embarrassment. Everyone there knows you're not supposed to be there. You must seem pathetic.

You follow him down the hall and wait on the other side of the closet door as he opens it. He hands you a folded down duvet. He sends you back to the living room as he goes to grab pillows from the bedroom. You get a glance of the sleek white vanity just as he opens the door.

You turn and traipse back to the front room. You go to the couch and shake out the blanket. You glance over as Melanie slurps loudly from a stemmed glass, the other two are unpoured.

"Really, Mel, I can just go--"

"No, it's fine," she huffs, "I don't want him to think I'm some sort of bitch."

"Oh, I wasn't--"

"You don't call to confirm?" She accuses.

"I texted and I buzzed--"

She shushes you as she hears Clark coming back down the hall. You leave the blanket across the sofa and go to the table. You pour the other two glasses and step back, too uneasy to claim one of your own. Instead, you busy yourself unpacking the snacks but you don't even know if you'll have any yourself.

"You girls sit," Clark insists as he drops the pillows on the sofa, "I'll get everything ready. Oh, hon, you should go put some pajamas on, get in the spirit. You could lend some to your friend too."

"Erm, I brought my own," you offer, "just... thought they were cute."

"Amazing, you two get changed, get cozy, and get the movie going," he grabs the bag of chips from your hands, "oh, and I'll get those kernels popping."

You nod and swallow as Melanie struts out without looking back. You retrieve your pajamas from your bag, brushing close to Clark by accident, and apologise. You quickly flit away to follow her, chasing after her right before she can close you out. You need to find an excuse to get out. Then you can think of how to say sorry for spoiling her date,

#clark kent #thor #dark clark kent #dark thor #dark!clark kent #dark!thor #clark kent x reader #clark kent x oc #clark kent x thor #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #marvel #mcu #avengers #superman #dcu #dc

[destourtereaux]

you have a beautiful smile - draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: Y/N is sunlight in human form, an absolute angel to be around. she’s always available to help out and treats everyone with kindness. draco malfoy should hate her, but he finds himself feeling quite the opposite.

taglist - add yourself here | warnings: none | wc: 1.5k

a/n: haven't written in a while, and this is my first draco fic, so please bear w me! lemme know what you think :) also my motivation to write draco is all bc of ms melli (@mellifluousart) who writes him wonderfully :)

Draco was eleven when he first saw Y/N. He had been so stupidly excited for Hogwarts that he had crashed his cart into hers on the platform. He immediately started to apologize, but Y/N beat him to it. And when he glanced up and met her eyes for the first time, he realized he wouldn’t have been able to say anything at that moment anyway.

Five years had passed since that first meeting, and Draco was preparing for his sixth year at school. He’d never forgotten you, but there hadn’t been many opportunities to even approach you. He’d heard of you around the school, of course. How could he not have? You were beloved, by teachers and students alike. Y/N L/N, prefect, outstanding student, and an avid volunteer around the school. Little did he know, you knew him too.

Draco had built quite the reputation for himself. He was the Slytherin prince, calculating, cold, and altogether untouchable. If you asked anyone, they would tell you that the two of you were on complete opposite ends of the spectrum.

Of course, none of this mattered to Professor Slughorn. In the first potions class of the year, a mixed group of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, he managed to seat you right next to Draco. He would be your partner for projects until the end of the year.

“So, do you speak now?” you poke with a laugh, referring to your first meeting as you sit down next to him.

“Yeah,” he responds briefly, before returning to his notes. To be honest, he didn’t trust his own voice well enough to say anything more - you still had the same effect on him more than half a decade later.

—

Draco did not believe in perfection. He kept trying to catch you being fake, as if your kindness and constant positivity was a facade that he might one day spot slipping. But as you continued to work hard with him on projects, joking to lighten the mood, and displaying the same amount of compassion despite his cold responses, he just couldn’t spot a single flaw. And one day, you caught him off guard.

“Godric, Professor Slughorn’s hair looks like his namesake today…” you mutter, as you copy furiously from the blackboard. You hadn’t meant for anyone to hear it, but then you caught the boy next to you let out a snort. Your eyes widened; there was no way Draco Malfoy had just laughed?

You whip your head around, and Draco averts his eyes.

“You just laughed,” you state, a smile forming on your lips. “You just laughed at my joke.”

“Did not,” the boy denies, “I was just shocked that sunshine in human form could say something like that,” then he turns away so you can’t catch the smile that threatens to appear.

Your cheeks redden, and you scoff. “It wasn’t even mean!” you protest, “I find it rather fits him.”

From that day on, the two of you developed a more natural dynamic. Your conversations were no longer one-sided, and you found yourself growing to enjoy Draco’s sarcastic sense of humour and wit. You even got to know Blaise and Pansy, who were very eager to share some of Draco’s most embarrassing moments with you. Little did you know, these two had an ulterior motive.

–

“So, Y/N, huh?” Pansy prompts, glancing up at Draco with an act of nonchalance.

Blaise smirks, catching the tinge of pink that appeared on his friend’s cheeks. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pans, and she doesn’t either. You and Blaise need to shut it and stop poking your ugly heads into this.”

“Alright, alright. But just so you know, she likes you too,” Blaise replies, before striding to the staircase and heading up to his room.

Pansy nods, “She does, but I have no idea why… You’re utterly unlikeable!” she finishes with a cackle, and practically sprints to the girls dormitories, where she knows the blond boy can’t touch her.

And so, Draco was left all alone with his thoughts and a pounding heart, at 10pm in the Slytherin common room.

—

The upcoming week was Hogsmeade week. Draco and you had made plans to get some extra quills and ingredients you were missing for the latest potions assignment.

“So, how many first years did you scare today?” you greet him with a giggle, “Do I have any 11 year olds I need to comfort?”

Draco scowled, but his eyes crinkled, belying his happiness at seeing you. “Yeah right, it’s their own fault for standing in huge groups in the middle of the corridors. You think it’d kill them to walk on their own.”

You laugh openly, loud enough for a few scattered students to turn and look. And Draco can’t blame them, because he knows just as well how easily you catch the eye. 

After making all the necessary stops, you spot an adorable new pop-up near Madam Puddifoot’s.

“Oh my GOD. A Build-A-Bear Workshop!” you squealed, and Draco makes a show of cringing and plugging in his ears.

You roll your eyes, smiling. “I haven’t made one of these in years. We absolutely HAVE to try it.”

Draco stops plugging his ears and his expression develops into one of horror. “No. No way in hell am I doing that. I have a reputation, Y/N. You are out of your min–”

You yank on his sleeve, pulling him along, not paying attention to a word of his rant.

“OW! How are you this strong, midget?! Fine!” the boy finally complies begrudgingly.

An hour later, the two of you exit the shop, you having made a bear with platinum blond fur and a slytherin uniform. Whenever you pressed its stomach, the bear would squeal out “do you know who I am?!” sending you into bouts of laughter at its resemblance to your friend.

Draco did not find this nearly as amusing as you did, but he was quite proud of his own bear. A brown one modelled after his favourite quidditch player. 

“Admit it! You had lots of fun in there,” you confront, as you spot him fixing the collar of his bear’s robes.

The boy shakes his head, and immediately gives his stuffie to you, “yeah, if I were three years old… now you carry it. I can’t be seen carrying a stuffed bear.”

You roll your eyes, but gladly take the plush. It smells just like Draco.

—

Before you know it, February sneaks up on the Hogwarts students. You start spotting floating hearts and angels everywhere, courtesy of the professors.

However, you had yet to receive a single Valentine, which you found quite bizarre. Not that you were overly confident, but you had always received at least a few in past years. You decided not to dwell on it, however, not when the NEWTs were approaching.

Little did you know, several Valentines had been trying to make their way to you, but each had been stopped on their journey by a certain Slytherin boy. Whenever he spotted one with your name on it zipping along in the halls, he simply hexed it, and it would disintegrate. He also glared at anyone who looked at you, lower years and upper years alike. Eventually, people gave up; there was no use trying to compete with Draco Malfoy.

—

Then on the very last day of the week, February 14th itself, you were working on a potions project, when your partner suddenly walked in.

Draco looked nervous, almost. At least as close to nervous as you’d ever seen the Slytherin prince get… but then he pulled out a little velvet box with a satin ribbon on it, motioning for you to open it.

“Now, don’t make this weird, okay? I just saw this in the store and thought you’d like it,” he mumbles, lowering his head. 

Carefully, you undid the ribbon and opened the box. Inside, there was an absolutely adorable necklace with a tiny silver bear. Your face lit up, and you hugged the tall boy. “It’s perfect,” you exclaimed.

Draco was absolutely flabbergasted, but he awkwardly returned the hug, patting your hair. “Want me to put it on?” 

After he clasped the necklace, he held your shoulders and turned you around to face him. Almost unconsciously, Draco began to smile. A genuine smile that made him look like a 17-year-old boy instead of his ice-cold persona.

You marvelled at how happiness transformed your boy’s face, and you stared up at him for a long time, long enough for Draco to tilt his head in curiosity.

“Is there something on my face?” he inquires.

You shake your head. “No. No, I just… you have a beautiful smile. I think you should do that more. Smile, I mean,” you stumble over your words.

Draco chuckles, as a blush spreads over his face, painting his pale complexion. He leans in again, but instead of a hug this time, he quickly pecks your forehead. “Maybe. No promises though,” he whispers.

NO LONGER DOING TAGLISTS AFTER THIS FIC. FOLLOW @lovebirdupdates AND TURN ON NOTIFS INSTEAD!

taglist: @fallin-4-ya @mrs-brekker15 @izzyyy-1 @maybanksslut @iwritesiriusly @cory-was-hexed @slytherclawbitch @wwandavision  @mrzweasley @1-800-amortentia @amelialupin-black @bolaurel  @theincredibledeadlyviper @simp027 @myalupinblack @emma67 @riddikulusweasleys @amortentiaaaa @cloudywitchh @peachybaes @poony-madfoot @arianagreyy @teddy-cheol @calaryssia @potters-heart @1dpjohoohp @retvenkos  @berrnuu  @theoreticslut  @kimsescapefromreality  @jodibullock1  @the-romanian-is-bae  @fandomhideout  @ur-local-simp  @sanctimoniousslytherpuff  @what-am-i-doing10  @sunshinee-nana @nevillelongbottomlover-blog  @annemagus  @toffeetoast @fairysums @amordesiempre7-blog @justfritz @valentines-massacre13 @neilgf @plutooryectors @jorja-cameron @thatsthat @notfeelingsogoofy

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fics #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy oneshots #draco malfoy reader insert #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x fem!reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x y/n #fic #writing #wizarding world

[raedear]

Do you have any Joe/Nicky fic recs?

Do I ever, bestie.

Here are my bookmarks on ao3, which functions as a rec list really

Specific shout outs include:

He, Dreamless by @guarncre, which I read with a breathless hysteria I've never experienced in myself before

say the word (& I'll be your renaissance man) by @bewires. Everything by Lia, actually, but this happens to be my particular favourite that wasn't written as a gift for me.

If Never Again, If Every Day by @gallifreyburning & @takiki16. A true and proper gamechanger of a fic. Sets the standard we should all aspire to.

Leave the Window Open by superblackmarket, who has never missed even once in their life, their every fic is a joy

Continuity of Memory by AirgiodSLV, which I absolutely adore

i want to wear your sweater (i want to wear your ring) by @knoepfchen which is just flawlessly fuckin hilarious and wonderful. Once again, please read all of Laurel's fics.

some cupids kill with arrows (some with traps) by @nicolos surely everyone has to know by this point that soulmates of any fashion are my kryptonite

honey i’m lovedrunk (it’s what you do to me) by @maddielle, which was the first fic of Maddie's I read and I hadn't even finished it before I subscribed to her.

Exposure by @chinchillinator and its sequel of course, this whole series is such a balm to my soul in the face of the terrible fuckin gender politics I've seen in omegaverse fics. Legs never misses.

wherever you are and wherever you go by @werebearbearbar I can't read just one of melly's fics, I have to read them all like I'm eating my way through a family bag of crisps in one sitting, but this one literally changed the chemistry of my brain

this song is new to me by @captainshakespear entirely flawless ace!Joe fic. I think about it every single day.

Roll Initiative by @nanashi-07 never fails to have me in absolute bits, it's wonderful

the dark matter of you by @polarcell I still think Nicky should get to murder him a little. As a treat. For me. The emotions this fic inspires in me, good lord

Lionheart by @non-un-topo absolutely no one does a mystery like siggy, holy fuck. I was going to link Perferō but I think you should start at the start of the series and work your way through

whatever here that's left of me by asifnotbound. peach can absolutely do no wrong in my eyes and this fic showcases her fantastic range and emotional depth.

Old Olives by aeli_kindara I love this fic so fucking much

Ten Ounces by @the73rdpostscript do I think of this fic every goddamn day? Yes. Yes I do. Read postie's fics I swear to fuck.

nothing here that is not sacred by @sixth-light. No one does it like sixth-light. No one. This just happens to have demi!Joe and I'm so outrageously here for that, but please just consider this the jumping off point for reading everything she's ever written.

Recover what was lost by @pinkninjapj, a stunning change of pace for me here, I know. Anyone who's ever talked to me for more than ten minutes knows my heart beats Retrograde, but I need to show love to Recover as well, which I have read easily a dozen times.

Shattered Pieces by AraSigyrn. I think of this fic every goddamn day.

with every inch of my heart by @smilebackwards what if Nicky had a Michelangelo and I cried about it many times????

walk inland by ScribeofArda fucking hell this fic does me in each time and I ADORE it

Departures by spqr I can't even BEGIN to tell you how much I love this fic. It makes me see shrimp colours.

In Pursuit of the Best Taste by PastyPirate they're rival bakers!!! It makes me so happy!!!!

This list is definitely not exhaustive, we'd be here forever if I listed every fic in this fandom I love. I've absolutely forgotten top tier fics and writers, but they're in my bookmarks for sure. Please go through all the authors' back catalogues too, because there is so much wonderful work in this fandom.

#rec list #ask me anything my dudes #joenicky #immortal husbands #kaysanova

[fangirlingpuggle]

Ok yet another random Pokémon Arceus AU/fic prompt idea where when Akari gets exiled and everyone is pissed that Kamado says can’t help her but Irida gets an idea of a loophole as Wardens families are protected so straight up goes and picks up Akari and when Kamado gets pissed

Irida:Sorry Commander but families of my wardens are protected so Akari can stay with us as Warden Ingo is her father

  Akari:…what?

  Ingo*Instantly catching on and totally ready to adopt Akari anyway*:Yes she is my daughter

  Kamado:...You can’t adopt her after she’s been exiled that is not allowed

  Ingo:No she was already my daughter

  Kamado :*grasping at straws* Well adoption wouldn’t count as

  Irida: *Not giving him any wiggle room* No she’s his biologically

  Akari:What?

  Kamado: How do you know? I thought you had amnesia

  Ingo:*Happily playing along* It got better

  Irida: Yep, he just remembered... so unless you want to declare war with Pearl clan over keeping a child of our clan from us then we’ll be taking Akari home

  Kamado:....

  Irida: Also fuck you

Kamado seeing if he can find loophole but everyone Pearl clan and Diamond clan agreeing and playing along Melli even being like ‘yes the idiot warden has been talking about his child none stop who didn’t know she was his child they’re both as annoying as each other ect ect’

At some point people aren’t sure if they’re playing along or it’s serious but eh who cares she’s his kid that much is obvious.

Just everyone agreeing they’re father and daughter and Akari just chilling with pearl clan. Akari not actual sure if they’re serious or not but fuck it Ingo is basically her dad anyway sooo yeah free dad and not exiled and Kamado is fucking pissed.

Cyllene is loving it he’s so angry and she’s just like ‘oh of course Akari was Warden Ingo’s daughter did I not mention that?’ she thinks he might actually have a stroke he’s getting so pissed and she is ready to take other the galaxy team when that happens.

They show back up in their time and Emmet is just like brother back and free niece awesome

  Emmet: Hey Elesa guess what Ingo’s back

  Elesa: WHAT EMMET ARE YOU SERIOUS?

  Emmet: Indeed, also congratulations you are an aunt

  Elesa:....

  Elesa:WHAT???

#pokemon #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon arceus #au #fic prompt #dad ingo #warden ingo #ingo pokemon #pokemon akari #submas #emmet pokemon #subway boss emmet #lady irida #pearl clan irida #pearl clan adopt Akari #commander kamado #humor #pokemon spoilers #pokemon arceus spoilers #pokemon legends spoilers #pokemon legends arceus spoilers #pokemon legends

[squidthesquidd]

masked au!!!! ok so i may actually turn this into a fic and a few comics because im a lil obsessed with it :DDD

heres some sketches of my Emmet design for it!

explaination in the readmore!!

So!! Basically, after Ingos disappearance, Emmet started to hate his reflection cus it reminded him of ingo, so he took to wearing a mask. Over time, that mask became a sort of comfort item for him so now he rarely ever takes it off, and can become very distressed when not wearing it.

Eventually, Emmet gets sent to hisui cus he fought god and arceus was like "This guy is so silly i'll send him to hisui too :)"

So then he falls from the sky in the middle of nowhere

he has no pokemon, no materials, but he still has his mask

after wandering for a very long time he straight up passes out from exhaustion, and later wakes up in a dark cave

turns out, a crap ton of previously undiscovered hisui joltiks and galvantula found him, and because of being shot out of a portal and weird magic, he is absolutely full of weird energy, so the bugs took a liking to him and brought him back to their cave :]

Hisui joltiks/galvantula are fire and ground types! joltiks are like little blocks of coal with legs and leave charcoal EVERYWHERE

Anyway, guess what is relatively close to this hidden cave full of spiders? haha yeah its the diamond clan

So basically, Emmet is just chilling with his new spider besties, recovering from almost dying, and some diamond clan discover the cave!! and they see Emmet and they're like "ah yes this guy is this massive spider’s warden. definitely" and Emmet just goes with it cus why not? they're the first people he sees so he wants to get on their good side

so stuff happens and Emmet is now kinda an "unofficial" member of the diamond clan. he gets a diamond tunic cus hes kinda another diamond warden, but also he kinda just chills in his cave most of the time and will only leave if he absolutely has to. he's still searching for Ingo, but everything is just wayyyyy to much so he's gonna hang out with his spiders

The whole “being sent to an ancient time” thing and just being so very mentally ill caused Emmet to become very reluctant to speak, so communication was a bit difficult since no one in the diamond clan knew modern sign language. There was also a language barrier, but Emmet is a quick learner and manage to learn the language pretty fast :D he mostly communicates in writing since there's still no sign language option

When first meeting people, they asked Emmet to take off his mask, which kinda made a bad first impression on him so he doesn't really like being around people now :/ but his annoyance with everyone around him kind of accidentally made him befriend melli, cus their both petty lil shits that don't like people much

Melli comes over to his cave and they shit talk people together, and Melli is actually one of the first people Emmet become comfortable talking to verbally because of this! they both think the other is annoying but they bond over it :]

literally this is the strangest relationship to ever come out of one of my aus. these two have never interacted ever. Why did I decide Melli was the one that Emmet should interact with?

these twinks are hanging out in a spider infested cave gossiping about people

Also!! Hisui joltiks absorb thermal energy instead of static energy, so Emmet is often very cold to the touch cus his bugs are stealing his body heat. This also makes him very tired a lot so you can often find him passed out in a pile of soot.

pls ask me questions about my au I want to talk about it so much

#masked au #pokemon #pokemon bw #pokémon black and white #submas #emmet #melli #galvantula #joltik #warden emmet #ingo #pla #pokemon legends arceus #au

[elvisabutler]

spark ( chapter one: company )

fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( fameless big daddy electrician ) x female original character word count: 13957 told y'all it was just shy of 14k warnings: old southern church ladies being all up in people's business. not the best of marriages. talk of children. copious amounts of sweat. elvis preferring to wear a jumpsuit that's worn in versus getting a new one. infidelity in some form. elvis in glasses. religion playing an at least faintly important part. a bit of negative self talk. this is not safe for work. i am not giving away anything else in these warnings. author’s note: first off the largest and most sincere of thanks to the ever delightful and loving marina who once upon a time just had whispers of a sort of off shoot/same vibe sort of thing for crawfever ( yes this is why this fic has gotten crawfever adjacent as a tag despite it not being the same thing ). and let me take them, burrow into her brain and find the bits and bobs that her brain had dreamed up but not been able to put into words. this fic would not exist without those whispers and without your edits. second, special thanks to my phenomenal wives and besties christi and birdy as well for you two know just how much you supported me in this from when marina did the whispers and i spewed what i affectionately called marina's brain herpes at you two, your screams and thoughts have been so powerful to get me to work on this. third, special other thanks to the charming @prompted-wordsmith for the edit job and the saving my ass on that one spot both me and marina could not figure out words for and putting up with my frankly excessive em dash use. beyond that, thank all of y'all who've enjoyed my vibes posts and have been getting excited based on what i've said to y'all, what marina has said to y'all, etc. just i'm very excited to show y'all this and i hope you enjoy. and quick tiny note, this is set in the 50s, so elvis is a wwii veteran and thus his birth and everything is pushed a little bit back to make this work.

“Call that handyman—the one from the church, I have to get to work,” her husband Nathan calls out as he leaves without a kiss exchanged between the two of them.

Words left unsaid die a quick death on her lips and tongue as she lets out a sigh. Once again she was left alone with barely a goodbye. She supposes she should be thankful he at least waited until she was awake. That he waited till she at least was conscious and able to ask him what she needed to, even if his response left so much to be desired. Call the handyman—Mr. Presley was his name, not that Nathan cared to know. After all, that would require him taking an interest in the church life or her sister’s life. It would require him to see the look on her face when she holds little Elizabeth while grabbing her from Sunday school or dropping her off at Sunday school for Melly. It would require… so many things.

Mr. Presley always told anyone to call Crown Electric and ask for him if they were in need. Some people argue it was some form of shrewd marketing but the pastor likes to reassure the congregation that Elvis, the godly and kind soul that he is, wouldn’t do that willy-nilly. Lilly’s hand shakes as she calls and reaches what she assumes is the receptionist before being reassured that he'll be over in a jiff. 

A jiff turns out to be a surprisingly quick time, no more than a half an hour before she hears a knock that somehow sounds delicate and gentle but is forceful enough for her to hear it easily. Adjusting her dress, she smoothes out an imaginary set of wrinkles, nervous for reasons she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Perhaps it was because she feels so very silly calling up a handyman for this fix. Truly if she could she’s certain she could fix it herself and she knows Nathan had fixed this very problem before. And yet here she was, about to answer her door. Oh, she hopes he doesn't judge her too harshly—hopes he doesn't think less of Nathan or her. 

As she opens the door she is greeted by the sight of Mr. Presley in a simple olive jumpsuit that appeared to be a bit tight in the middle, his paunch pushing at the fabric the same as it appeared to do in the area of his thigh. It's strange for her to see him like this, far more rugged than he ever is in church or at the potlucks. Lilly swears her heart skips a beat in what she thinks is shock cause she looks up at Mr. Presley’s face and sees what is one of the most genteel and warm smiles she's ever seen on a person. 

"Mrs. Harris," Elvis greets Lilly with that smile that has Lilly's own lips curling into one even as she bites at her lip and tilts her head down.

"Mr. Presley. You came quickly," A statement of fact while hiding a question of why and how as she moves aside to allow him to enter her home. 

“It's not everyday lil Miss Lizzie’s aunt calls for help from me. In fact, I think this is ya first time," Elvis answers while keeping his gaze on her as he enters, carefully avoiding looking around the house. "Musta been an emergency."

"Lil Miss Lizzie’s aunt" shouldn't sting as much as it does and yet she feels herself wince just slightly at the idea of only being known as an aunt, never a mother. Of being known as a barren woman who defied her family's legendary fertility to have an empty house and a husband who tolerated her at best as of late.

"Oh you just have to try harder, Lilly. Must be something—in your diet. Or that stress of yours. Nathan days you've been downright mean when you talk sometimes."

She's been downright mean, it would take a downright mean person to know one wouldn't it? It would take a man who ignores his wife like Nathan does to recognize a woman who's mean when she talks. Frustrated is what Lilly was, dejected is what Lilly was. But mean? No, she tries too hard not to be mean that the idea of Nathan accusing her of such a thing is a betrayal of her heart.

Lilly sniffles slightly, attempting to play it off as allergies. "You could say that, Mr. Presley. Nathan had to rush out and I'm—I can't quite fix it myself. And you did say if anyone needed help with anything to make a call for you."

Elvis opens his mouth to speak before her sniffles hit him. It's as if a grenade has gone off in front of him. It's as if he can see the rubble of whatever had been in front of him at those small, barely-noticeable sniffles. Why…? There was no reason for her to be crying. 'Less she didn't want him to be here. Had he said something to offend her, something that made her emotional? Or was it embarrassment from needing to call him? He shouldn't reach out to touch her, shouldn't offer comfort he isn't sure she needs. But there's something about that small little sniffle that has him frowning and praying it's just allergies or the dust from his suit or something physical causing them. His hand moves to grab her own and—zzzt—that's when he feels a spark shoot into his hand, up his arm and settle in his chest. If he didn’t know any better he swears his heart skips a beat or two as he shakes his head.

"Know I'm not the most charming o' company Mrs. Harris but—I do good work. As for Mr. Harris, I'm sure he's busy bein' a good provider. Givin' ya everythin' ya need. Fixin' things can be a bit o' work for you young ones, ‘specially for the men after a long day. That's why you got ol’ fools like me. Fix things so ya don't gotta worry that pretty head of yours.”

Lilly's lips can't help but quirk into a smile, small as it is, at his words. They're not entirely comforting at face value but the longer she allows them to sit as she watches him set his bag down on the floor by her oven and make moves to actually do his job, the more they settle something inside of her. A final sniffle escapes her before she blows her nose by her sink, turning to face Elvis when she's finished.

Lilly's never put much stock in the idea that someone's entire aura and demeanor can change based on the clothes they wear. After all, she was the same person whether or not she was in her nightgown versus her dress or in the dresses she’d wear around the house compared to, say, her Sunday’s best. Mr. Presley, though, there’s something to be said about how he looks standing in front of her compared to how he looks every Sunday. There’s something to be said about how the jumpsuit he’s wearing almost looks too small for him but it’s just his middle that tightens the fabric. It’s just that paunch of his stomach yanking the fabric forward in an effort to contain him, stretching the fabric across his chest and making it so he has to leave the zipper partially undone before it reaches his neck. Her eyes refuse to linger on his lower half for too long but she can see how tight it is around his legs, around his thighs and she feels a shiver come over her for just a moment. This–this isn’t the same man who dresses in a full suit, jacket and all to church. This isn’t the same man who has his hair slicked back and his suit pants pressed like his mama’d taught him in church. 

This isn’t the same man she hands her niece off to every Sunday. No, this is another man entirely, a rugged down to Earth—salt of the Earth man. He’s a man who isn’t afraid to get dirty and afraid to work on things other people might stick their nose up at. He’s a man through and through and Lilly can’t help but wonder what else Mr. Presley’s been hiding. If there’s another side of him she hasn’t seen that is as fascinating and as invigorating to look at as this one. 

Not that she should be looking, not that the Lord wouldn't… perhaps this is why Nathan and her still have a fruitless marriage. A marriage of short kisses and dinner on the table and mothers who touch her belly and whisper how soon enough they'll be blessed. Perhaps with two at once. Maybe this is why the lord refuses to bless her—maybe if she didn't wish for company—covet her sister’s and her friends’ growing families. She could have company if she could keep Nathan home for longer than a few hours. 

Elvis’s mouth is opening and closing as if words are passing through them and Lilly blinks once, twice, three times before shaking her head to clear it of the thoughts that have started to swirl around it. "I'm sorry Mr Presley, could you–could you repeat what you just said. My mind went… I started trying to figure out what I could scrounge up in case this takes too long.”

There’s a chuckle, warm and inviting that leaves Elvis’s lips at the explanation before he shakes his head. “Got that little faith in me, Mrs. Harris? Think ya gonna be without an oven for a whole day? I’ll have this fixed up in in an hour, two if that.” He pauses and smiles. “Most of the time, it’s somethin’ real simple. Like ya said, you or Mr. Harris could’ve fixed it but ya both got things to do. Him, goin’ to work and bringin��� home the money and you, uh, takin’ care of… the house.” 

Lilly’s chest tightens at his words, at how he stops mid sentence. She knows perfectly well what he was going to say, that she would be taking care of the children and the house, but the house is as empty as her womb. There’s a warmth to it, of course, attempts at making things as inviting as can be and yet there’s always the gust of cold air from the fridge or from the screen door opening and closing making the house feel even emptier than it is. Emptier in a way it doesn’t feel right in this moment with someone else in the house. Not with someone like Mr. Presley taking up so much space in her kitchen just from height and bulk by his lonesome. Maybe even just from his presence alone. Still, his words settle her fear just a bit as she watches him bend down to open her oven. She can’t help how her eyes linger on the worn fabric stretched across his backside and under, between his legs. They’re right there, and she hadn’t meant to look, she was just about to say something to him, something that’s been swallowed up by every thought that slams into her head at the vision in front of her. Oh, she–she’s just on edge from this morning and how Nathan left so quickly. That’s all this is, nothing more, nothing less. She takes a breath and moves to grab a pitcher from her lower cabinets unaware that Elvis had looked back to ask something of her before being presented with the sight in front of him. It’s nothing untoward, and is purely chaste but there’s something about the way her dress tightens just a smidge around her backside that has him swallowing his tongue and moving to stick his head in the oven with a flashlight to see what might be the problem.

 

The problem as he expected was something simple, an easy fix with a part he has in his bag but he notices how there’s a few other things that could be dealt with while he’s down here. He should charge her for them, but… he finds he doesn’t want to. Finds that spending time in her company is worth the extra time he’d be spending in her oven. Especially when he hears her voice softly singing some—he thinks that might be Jo Strafford but he can’t be sure. There’s an element of homeliness that has him sighing while in the oven. Normally he feels this sense of ease in church and here he is with Mrs. Harris and she makes him feel just the same. 

“Mr. Presley, are you alright? Do… Is it worse than you thought?” He hears her soft voice above him and bashes his head against the top of the oven, cursing slightly as he does. 

“‘M fine. It’s fine Mrs. Harris. Jus’ looking at the work I gotta do. Definitely—gonna take all two of those hours I promised ya but it’ll be good as new when I’m finished with it,” Elvis answers, rubbing at his head and moving his arm down to rummage through his bag, worried about how he’d look if he bothered to pull himself out from inside the oven. 

The problem with doing that, the problem with hiding away in the oven as he does, is that even though the thing isn’t on, it’s stifling in the summer heat. Roasting him slowly but surely as he feels beads of sweat enter his eyes and slightly fog up his glasses. His free hand, unoccupied with his work, moves to grab a cloth he has on his belt just to wipe at his eyes. He hopes he doesn’t get any dirt on them. Meanwhile above him, Lilly busies herself with puttering around the kitchen. She’s making lemonade that’s almost as sweet as her sweet tea, but only because she’s never really enjoyed how sour lemons can be, sure that was supposed to be part of the allure but—Lilly’s never been that sour of a person. Instead more full of sugar sweet smiles and sweet Southern charm that had her husband falling at her feet when they were teenagers and had his parents eating out of her hand the moment she said hello. 

It takes Elvis damn near the whole two hours to finish, finally managing to finish a little bit after lunch time. Just enough time for LIlly to whip up something real quick, nothing too fancy, but Nathan would understand in this case, after all, it’s not as if he had fixed it before work. She hears Elvis’s groan from inside the oven and she can’t help the way she crouches down at the noise, making sure her legs are covered with her dress and moving to hold out her hand in an effort to help him pull himself out from inside her oven. She notices the dirt on his hands but doesn’t mind in the slightest, knowing she’s got a functioning sink and from that groan he honestly just might need a hand getting up out of it. There's a hesitation and an aborted attempt to swat her hand away before he takes it as both their arms twitch at the same time when their hands touch. 

"Didn't shock ya, did I, lil darlin'?" His voice sounds distant for a moment as he uses the leverage from her hand to scoot himself out and then pull himself up into a sitting position. 

“No, Mr. Presley, you didn’t—” Lilly’s words trail off as she looks at Mr. Presley’s face and notices just how covered in sweat it is. It shouldn’t be that sweaty, she thinks, it shouldn’t look like he’s practically used her garden hose in the back to hose himself down. That rag should’ve been used to mop up the glittering beads rolling down his cheekbones and collecting in the dip of his cupid’s bow. Unless he has somehow lost the ability to put it to use—but as Lilly’s eyes trace down his strong forearm she finds it’s translucent in a way that brings to mind summers outside and gigglingly waving at the boys across the lake. Being in a confined space like her oven would cause something like this, would cause someone to sweat as much as this but seeing it in front of her, seeing it before her very eyes has Lilly struck a bit speechless. There’s a glass of lemonade in her hand that she plans on offering Mr. Presley but the words refuse to come out, caught in her throat as she just stares at him. Stares at the sweat covering his face and his hair and making there be this curl among all the chocolate brown plastered to his head. It shouldn’t—it isn’t attractive on Nathan or any other boy she had ever seen look similar to this after a football game or after a hard day of entertaining outside. Yet here was Mr. Presley looking so very attractive that Lilly can’t find the words to describe it. This could not be the man she had seen so many times at church, at Sunday School when she dropped off her niece. 

Elvis is confused the longer he looks at Lilly, the longer he sees her staring at him like he’s a prime cut of meat. That—he hasn’t seen that look on a woman since after the war, since before his overeating and the nightmares and the grief and the visions he can’t ever stop thinking of unless he’s working. Sure, there’s still the few who try and set him up with their daughters who they figure can’t find another man and the few widows who remember how he was when he first came back to Memphis. But someone who’s Lilly’s age looking at him like that? Like she might be willing to pounce on him despite the ring on her finger? Oh, that was… That is something he cannot entertain, that has to be the heat finally getting to him, finally making him imagine things that certainly aren’t there. There’s no conceivable way someone as sweet as Miss Lilly, Mrs. Harris, Lilly, would ever be looking at him like that. His eyes drift down to the glass in her hand and a grin threatens to overwhelm his face as he grabs it with a simple thanks and starts to down the drink without a care in the world.

Lilly’s eyes watch as a single sweat drop rolls down his skin. Mr. Presley’s neck is stretched out as he drinks, Adam’s apple bobbing. The drops of water on the outside of the glass fall to his neck. They join their sweat brothers in rolling slowly but surely down his throat, tracing a path her mind whispers to her about chasing with her tongue as she had more than once before with Nathan. They roll down past his collarbone and down to his chest—his exposed chest because of that stupid zipper. They make a home in the patch of sweat and musk and warmth that is his chest hair and Lilly’s mouth opens to let out a choked-off squeak, she thinks. Or maybe it was her choking on her own breath, on her own tongue as she tries to say something, tries to tell Mr. Presley to set down the glass or drink slower or that he missed so much sweat on his body. Maybe–maybe it went all the way down, oh, maybe it…no, she cannot entertain this idea, she cannot entertain the way her mind wants to explore the possibilities. Tonight Nathan can help rid her of these thoughts, he can help her forget how she sees all this sweat gliding down another man’s skin. Down Mr. Presley’s skin, down the skin of someone who teaches Sunday school and wears tight jumpsuits that leave nothing to the imagination. The thoughts swirl and swirl as she clenches her thighs together and rubs them against each other. There is a smooth, slick quality to the glide that makes a flush of shame rise to the very apples of her cheeks, or maybe that’s the way Mr. Presley’s body is burned into her mind.

“Oh.” She exhales the word, swaying a little before she shakes her head, “Mr. Presley. You— Your—” Lilly shuts her eyes before continuing. “Are you enjoying the lemonade? My lemonade?”

“My lemonade”? What was she thinking, it was just lemonade, she didn’t have a claim over it, she didn’t want to know if Elvis enjoyed something of hers. That way of thinking—no, she just wanted to make sure she had made it correctly. That she had made it the right amount of sweet for him to enjoy and for it to quench his thirst. A repayment for making him do such a silly job as he just finished doing for her. Her eyes meet his as she finally is able to take her eyes off of his neck, off the vein in his neck that throbbed as he swallowed, at the way his swallows allowed the droplets of sweat and water roll down his throat. Her hand twitches with a desire to touch and hold. 

“I loved it. Sweet as anything I‘ve ever had.” He licks his lips, tasting the tangy salt of his sweat cutting through the sweetness of her lemonade. It’s not a lie, he truly does enjoy her lemonade, but he thinks–he thinks he might enjoy her company more, enjoy how she asks if he’s alright and worries about him enough to give him lemonade after he swears he’s practically sweat through his own jumpsuit. Not many people extended such domestic kindness to him anymore. He was Elvis the Pelvis, Elvis the Sunday School teacher, he was Elvis the electrician, but never just Elvis. He wasn’t ever just a man that a pretty wife might offer lemonade to. “Ya mind if I have another glass?” 

The way she hands over the pitcher is almost robotic or automatic and Elvis can’t help the way his hand shoots out to grab it, his fingers brushing over hers yet again igniting another spark between them. It’s not possible and yet he swears he feels it from his fingertips up to the top of his arm. Lilly pulls back her hand quickly, cradling it against her chest. “You can have th-the whole… the whole pitcher if you need.” 

Elvis laughs, the idea almost as comical as the way she says it with a straight face. Pouring the glass, he shakes his head at her and shrugs, “Can’t polish one of these off myself. If I had help now—” 

There’s something inside of Lilly that loosens at those words, at the playful nature of them despite how there is perhaps a flirtatious edge to them. It’s as if there was something inside of her that she hadn’t realized was a problem before that evaporated at Mr. Presley’s laugh and at his smile. It felt like true enjoyable company, the sort of company you’re supposed to have with your friends and your husband, but Lilly can’t remember the last time she felt it with anyone other than her sister. Her mild bitterness at swollen bellies and husbands who came by and kissed their wives on their cheek, happy to see them and see their handiwork coloring her happiness to see friends. God hadn’t seen fit to grace her womb with a child, and Nathan was alright with that despite Lilly’s pleas so she had dropped it all the while pushing those friends away, the reminder of the dream she wanted slipping farther and farther out of her grasp, through her fingers like the sand on the beach. 

Lilly smiles and grabs the other glass on the table, it is normally Nathan’s but she can set out another one, she can do the dishes before he arrives home while dinner is cooking. She sets it right in front of Elvis. “If you’ll do me the honor of pouring it. If you’re a gentleman.”

The laugh sounds almost sinister when it leaves his mouth, a dark sort of thing but the warmth in it has Lilly realizing that perhaps it’s a special laugh. Maybe it could be his laugh for only her. Nathan had one of those for her, once upon a time. She misses that laugh and to have another person give one to her is… it warms her soul from the inside out and she swears she feels a part of her, a part she knows has been snapped in half for the past year at least snaps back into place. His words are almost missed but when she focuses, puts him back in focus, she hears him clear as day as he pours her a glass. "God and my mama'd strike me down if I wasn't a gentleman, 'specially to you, Lil darlin."

There it was again. A nickname. Nathan never gave her one, told her that her name was already short enough and pretty enough and yet here was Mr. Presley giving her one. It’s an open secret he’s liberal with his use of nicknames and yet hearing one perhaps only for her has her heart fluttering in her chest, fluttering against the confines of the bones keeping it inside. Lil darlin, a shortened version of Lilly and darling in one simple nickname. Her body warms at the implication of familiarity. “Thank you, Mr. Presley.” Her teeth move to worry at her lower lip as she toys with a question inside her head before looking at him. “Would–Would you like to stay for dinner? Nathan—Mr. Harris might be late and I’m—you’re charming company.”

The way she starts and stops in asking makes Elvis want to say yes, wants to put her at ease and tell her there’s perhaps nothing he’d like to do more that afternoon, but his eyes drift down to her ring glinting in the light and he sighs, shaking his head. The thought is tempting, but thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife and thou shall not commit adultery. While he may not do the second, he knows if he stays much longer he’s likely to do the first. “Not—I appreciate the invitation, Mrs. Harris, but I have to get home. Maybe. A raincheck?”

A raincheck. A promise of maybe another time. A promise of if things were different he would say yes in a heartbeat. A promise that if he could he would stay sitting at her dining table and drink lemonade as she cooked dinner for her husband. Her husband, the one she cares for and loves with all her heart. He— He— There should be no raincheck and yet he wants her to agree to one.

“A raincheck.” Her face had fallen as he let her down easy before the mention of the raincheck, the mention of it making her smile once again. The mention of it having her smile and beam and bloom like her flower namesake, soaking in the attention as if it was water meant to nourish her and fulfill her. “Of course. You—Just finish as much of the lemonade as you’d like and you can see yourself out, if that’s alright? Just—so I can make dinner and have it done on time.”

His eyes watch as she stands up, smoothing out her clothes and sees how she practically glides across the floor of the kitchen as if she’s a natural in it. Her body moves as if it’s used to being around people and used to having people underfoot and Elvis is struck by how it feels like something is missing watching her, feels as if something doesn’t seem right in the picture. There should be someone else near her. He—no, that’s not a path he’ll go down today. After another ten minutes of him just watching her work and two more glasses of lemonade, he sets down the glass and makes his way out the door. “Goodnight, Lil darlin’!”

It feels a little dirty, the way when he gets home and is in bed for the night his cock jumps at the memory of her staring at his chest. He knows she's married, saw the ring clear as day in the sunlight but that look. He only remembers that look from June when he took her once upon a time. Had her husband not been giving her what she needed? Had she not been given the proper water to blossom? Had he been leaving her to wilt inside their shared home that she kept so well? Had he–had he deprived her of the ability to put down roots? The idea knocks the air out of his lungs and has him praying for forgiveness no more than five minutes later as he wipes his hand on a dirty shirt nearby.

Elvis doesn’t see Lilly until that Sunday in church, and yet his mind wanders to her when he’s working with other people’s issues. None of them are as simple as hers was and it makes him almost angry that he’s stuck spending his time with these issues when hers were over far too quick. Time flies when you’re having fun, but had he been having fun? Or was it just that God himself knew better than to allow him to stay in her house for too long, the urges he could feel flowing through his veins almost too hard to ignore. When he does, though, when he does he sees her in the most gorgeous of dresses, a simple baby blue number that matched her sister’s and matched her brother in law's tie. He expects to see her husband. Nathan, she had called him, and instead only sees the three of them and one small little girl in Lilly’s arms. Little Lizzie being carried by Lilly and looking so at ease and happy in her arms that Elvis’s heart twists at the image. A woman like that, a woman who can get a child that was less than a year old to be so calm and collected in a sea of people… now that’s a woman who ought to have a passel of kids, a football team of children. A platoon of children behind her, all in single file, smitten husband bringing up the rear. Yet here she was on a Sunday without her husband and tagging along as an extra hand, helping her sister who, if rumors were to be believed, was expecting again. He sees her wave off her sister and brother in law before she walks toward him, a soft smile on her face.

“Mr. Presley,” Lilly murmurs softly as Lizzie yawns in her arms and snuggles closer. “I was going to hand her off to you but I don’t think I can. I think she’d much prefer to keep her pillow.” She looks down at her niece before looking up at him. “I—If it’s alright, do you mind if I stay here?”

His hand moves in such a way as to brush off her concern. Did he mind if she stayed there? What sort of silly question was that. Did he mind if a woman who occupied his mind as he pleasured himself stayed in here with him. He has to bite back a laugh. If he could he’d let her stay in this room with him until time eternal, until the rapture where those who were worthy would be saved. She would be saved and perhaps–perhaps, if he could resist, he would have mended enough fences with God for him to do the same thing.

“I can always use the extra help, Mrs. Harris.” He motions to the children already around him. “They can be a bit of a handful.”

A laugh that sounds like the church bells ringing leaves her mouth as Elvis watches her bloom like she did at her house. There’s… It’s strange, seeing her so happy because of words he’s saying, almost as if he’s the reason she has to smile and she’s soaking up every bit of attention he can give her. Elvis has never fancied himself a gardener by any means but for her he thinks he might be one. Her husband should nurture her as she nurtures him and their children when they have any and yet he wonders if he does. He wonders if the boy, Nathan, realizes what he seems to be doing to Lilly, how her petals fall without attention, how she withers without his care, without his water nourishing her soul, her body and filling—Elvis shakes his head to clear it. 

“You always handle them so well, Mr. Presley. You’re a natural, I think.” The question is on the tip of her tongue, the question of why Elvis doesn’t have children of his own but she stops herself, she stops herself because it’s none of her business why. Maybe he just never found the right woman—a shame, she thinks. He would make a great husband from what she’s been able to see. A loving husband. A caring husband. So wrapped up in her own thoughts she very nearly misses him speaking to her as she sits down, shushing Lizzie’s protests at the movement and making sure the little ones around her quiet down.

"Surprised ya don't have children, Lil Darlin', ain't ever seen a woman be a natural with 'em like you," Elvis says, peeking over the rims of his glasses to a child who looked about ready to cause a complete ruckus. His focus is purely on that as he misses her wince and the way her hand reaches out to rub at her stomach, almost as if to mourn the lack of children from her womb.

"Nathan and I… We've been trying. Less often, lately, but—oh I don't—it just hasn't happened. God's saved those blessings for my sister. Little Lizzie and, and the one she's carrying now." Lilly bites her lip, trying not to let the tears she feels pooling in her eyes fall. She’s in public and Mr. Presley is just an acquaintance as of now, he doesn’t need to see the emotion she’s only ever reserved for her sister, Melly. A sniffle escapes her before she can stop it and Elvis’s hand reaches to grab a handkerchief from his pocket to give her to blow into and to dry her eyes. She takes it gladly.

"God'll gift ya one soon enough, be a cryin' shame if he didn't." A true statement of fact disguised as a reassurance. Elvis doesn’t think there’d be any true justice in the world if the Lord didn’t bless her with a child or several. Even now as they talked just her presence seemed to calm the children as they sat near her, waiting expectantly for him to tell a story or sing a song. Even Lilly dabbing his handkerchief at her eyes looked as if she was waiting for him and what he would do. As much as he wants to continue to talk with her, he thinks perhaps he should just entertain her. He thinks he should show off what he can do for her. His mind doesn’t dwell on the meaning behind it, instead choosing to dwell on how all he wants to do in that moment is watch Lilly be happy with her niece in her lap while she makes children listen and remain calm even if they are excited. 

The class is the calmest one he’s had in at least a year.

Things keep breaking in Lilly’s house and if Elvis was a suspicious man—if Elvis felt any hope when it came to Lilly, he would venture she called him on purpose. He would venture that she wants to see him and perhaps breaks things to do just that and yet they’re so different, each thing that’s broken, that he thinks perhaps it’s honestly things just breaking. The one true joy involved in it, though, beyond seeing her face when he’s fixed yet another thing is how she smiles when she sees him. 

Elvis is a man. Elvis is a man who can’t help himself sometimes. Elvis is a man who is not perfect. Elvis is a man who cannot and will not avoid the temptation of at least seeing Mrs. Harris more often. He learns Nathan rarely comes home on time except for certain days. He learns how great of a cook Lilly is, the smells wafting around the house when he works. He learns she’s a great cook because he’s tasted it at her insistence that he take home the food she’s made, if not insisting that he comes and eats with her. There is a part of him that thinks he’s playing her husband, replacing the man who is never home and is rarely at church with his wife despite how much it means to her. But Elvis knows he isn’t her husband. Despite what he does when it comes to cooking with her, despite how every so often his body betrays him, pictures her beneath him or on top of him, taking him in a way he wouldn’t think she could… he never acts on it. He never tells her. They haven’t crossed any lines, they are just friends who are becoming closer the more and more time they spend together. Days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months and before he realizes, before either of them realize it’s been three months and another thing has broken. Something feels different as he finishes up and prepares to leave only to realize that he can’t, not with her the way she seems to be on this particular day. 

He knows he should have already left, knows that her husband is liable to be back sooner rather than later, after all today isn’t a day he normally goes straight out with his friends. Today is a day he comes home to eat dinner with his wife, perhaps—enjoy other pleasures with his wife and then leave with his friends. It is a Friday, he has the rest of the weekend to spend with the boys and he knows Lilly will be with him on the Saturday with their wives and Sunday during church and the potluck afterward, not that he enjoyed going to them. But Lilly looks so… she looks so in need of company, something had happened the night before, he reasons, something had caused her soul to curl in on itself to the point where she doesn’t talk nearly as much as she normally would with him. Sure, they had still been floating around each other, and she answered a question here and there and would check to make sure he wasn’t accidentally shocking and hurting himself but there was no humming above him, no subtle roll of her hips that made him ache when he was alone at home. Done with his work, he washes his hands in Lilly’s sink, watching as she busies herself putting the finishing touches on her dinner before she pops it into the oven he fixed a few months ago. Yet he can’t shake the feeling that something else in this house needs to be fixed beyond the oven and beyond the wiring he had fixed tonight. He’s never been one to leave a job undone or hastily finished only for it to fall apart some time later for someone else to repair, damage caused by his carelessness. His eyes against his better judgment watch as she bends, watch as her dress rises and stretches around her backside, highlighting it in a way that has him averting his eyes. When he hears the quiet slam of the oven closing he finally looks back at her and is met by her wiping her brow for a moment before staring at him. 

“Do I have something on my face?” The question is so innocent he almost laughs. She has nothing on her face. There’s nothing wrong with her face other than the fact that it’s marred by a frown instead of—at the very least—the small smile he’s used to seeing from her. He wants to fix it, he wants to keep her from wilting, make it so she can continue to bloom the way she has been from the moment they properly met outside of church. 

“Ah… No, Lil Darlin, you don’t. Ya jus’—did somethin’ happen with you and Nathan last night? Ya look awfully sad and I—you weren’t even hummin’ today. Felt like I needed to put on a record it felt so quiet in the kitchen.” Elvis tries to choose his words carefully and even so Lilly’s face falls just a hair as she sighs. 

“Oh. I–I didn’t realize it looked so obvious. I…We were supposed to go on a date, Mr. Presley. We were supposed to go on a date and he was supposed to take me dancing because we haven’t in over a year and I miss it. But—there was a business meeting that ran late and by the time he got home I was too tired and the dance hall was—”

“Closed,” he finishes off for her, knowing full well what time every dance hall in the general area of Memphis closed. He knew full well that the only one that might have stayed open past a normal time was the army one and Nathan, unlike him, was not an army man. No, he was merely a boy–a boy playing at doing business and taking care of his wife financially but not emotionally. There it was again, that deep unceasing urge to fix it, that urge to fix this even if it’s not his place to try to fix anything beyond her appliances and her wiring. His fingers twitch against the side of his leg as he feels them both loosen, one even bouncing just slightly. It’s as if his body is trying to rev up while his mind reminds him with a traitorous whisper he still has every bit of equipment needed to help—to fix this, even if it's all more than a bit rusty. He can shake off that rust just fine, if it was for her. 

 “I… Lil Darlin. If—I know how to dance. Know I don’t look it, with this paunch,” he gives his stomach a light slap that has it jiggling just a bit and has Lilly’s eyes widening and a flush of desire coursing through her veins, wondering how that would feel under her hands, not that he notices. “But I used to do a lot of swing dancin’, if—I could dance wit’ ya if ya want me to. Ya can say no, but the offer’s there.”

For a moment, Lilly just stares at Elvis as if he’s grown an extra head. Surely he’s saying this in jest, he doesn’t mean what he’s asking, he isn’t offering to treat her better than her husband did. He isn’t offering to dance with her in the kitchen or the living room. That’s–that’s such a silly notion that despite how their relationship, their friendship has grown he can’t be caring for her more than her husband does. The laugh that escapes her sounds harsh even to her own ears as she winces at the sound, her eyes meeting his as if there's a million and one apologies on her tongue. His eyes make every apology that tries to form disappear in every breath she takes. He's not angry, doesn't think she's mocking him with her laughter. As always he realizes she just thinks he’s joking or that there is no way he actually wishes to do what he’s mentioned because after all, if her own husband doesn’t want to dance with her why would a stranger or a friend of sorts want to? That’s not something you do for a woman when you aren’t married to her. Swing dancing in her living room, that has to be a joke. 

Her voice is quiet, though, once she stops laughing and notices how Elvis still looks like he might be expecting an answer, as if she hadn’t practically mocked the mere idea of them swing dancing in her living room. Maybe—oh, maybe he was being genuine. Oh, he was far too good to her, indulging her silly wants and desires as if they were married instead of just merely friends. "You're… you don't have to." There. There, she had given him a chance to take back what he offered and made it so they could move on from this—move on from what such an offer meant to her and how she could feel her throat tightening and her heart in her chest twisting. 

Elvis takes a moment to just take her in, take in the way her body seems to wilt at the mere idea of him not dancing with her and the idea of him taking her up on her offer of taking back what he agreed to. The breath that leaves him is overtaken by a laugh, though he tries to stifle it. He holds out his hand and moves to the living room. "Lil Darlin', wouldn't've offered if I didn't. Gonna have to forgive me if 'm rusty. Haven't done it in a while."

"Neither have I." 

He's sure he feels a muscle in his jaw tense at those words before he shakes his head to clear it. Soon enough her husband would realize how much he's let his wife wilt from lack of attention, from lack of water to nourish her body and soul. For now though, for now he’s here to help her, to make her smile and be happy in a way she deserves to be. Her hand is soft enough that he almost feels wrong touching it with his callus-filled ones. It feels wrong to have such soft skin against his own but at the same time, it settles something deep within him to feel her hand in his and to feel her pressed against his body. He takes a moment to put on a record, praying it actually is something they can dance to only to realize it’s “Sing Sing Sing”, a song he’s danced to more times than he cares to count. Laughter erupts from in a fit of pure joy as he sees Lilly’s face light up when they start to dance. 

There should be a bit of awkwardness that only comes from when you first try to dance with a new partner, and yet they fall into a rhythm so natural his mind swirls with the possibility of dancing with her like this the rest of his life. Her feet move in step with his, easily avoiding his own, before he grabs her to pick her up, a move he hasn’t done in almost a decade but he does with an ease that shocks him as she giggles, the sound adding to the music as if it’s another horn. He’s getting dizzy with the sheer joy of hearing it. It feels so natural to swing and toss and lift her up as she smiles brighter than anything he’s ever seen. It looks like the sunrise in France when there was those brief moments of peace. All he can think is how that smile needs to be there every second of the day, that’s a smile that deserves to be seen, deserves to be shown off to everyone and yet—and yet he hopes not even her husband has seen this smile. Perhaps this is just for him and his swing dancing with her. Maybe no one else has seen this smile, because he swears even when he was younger he didn’t move nearly like this, didn’t smile so hard his cheeks are burning from the use. 

Elvis is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he misses her foot positioned a certain way when he moves to pick her up for another lift and stumbles. A short curse leaves his lips as he moves to fall on one knee with Lilly falling onto his other knee. He hisses at the pain, knowing he’ll regret this move later, but he couldn’t have her falling to the ground, couldn’t have her risk being injured because he couldn’t catch her—because he lost his footing like a klutz. Except Lilly is still laughing, she’s still laughing and still putting off every bit of joy in the world in his lap. His eyes run down her body, seeing how she’s breathless, her chest heaving and pushing the buttons of her dress. He shouldn’t look and yet he sees, he sees how her chest is heaving in delight. As if to help himself—to keep himself from staring even longer his eyes dart down to her legs, down to her thighs where, oh Lord, her dress has risen up just a hair. Just enough to reveal more of her thigh, to reveal a hint of a stocking that has his mouth drying up the longer he stares. Her legs haven’t seemed to catch up with her brain and the rest of her body, thinking they’re still on the ground and needing to kick up and down almost like a child. There’s a playful exuberance in the action as she appears to not have a care in the world despite how the action has her dressing riding up that little bit more as she continues to giggle and kick at the air in his lap. The skin and the stockings threaten to overwhelm him as he feels the stirring in between his legs a moment too late as he sees Lilly’s eyes widen.

“Oh.” A singular word yet one that packs such a punch as he realizes what it means. What it means for her to utter it to him like that when she’s in his lap as his cock rises to attention like he’s back fresh from the army, wanting to dance with a new girl every night and yet here is one singular woman reacting in such a calm and startled way that he has to stop himself from tossing her off of him in a huff. Still, he lightly pushes at her in an effort to keep her from feeling just how aroused he is only to have her hand reach out and touch his face. Against his will, he nuzzles into her palm before remembering that he needs to make sure she’s not… she needs to be away from his lap. The—his cock—Lil Elvis was not needed here, she was married and he was not that young soldier returning from war any more, no he was merely this fat old man who let himself go and found himself lusting after a fellow church goer’s wife. His young wife. 

He misses her words before she repeats them, allowing them to cut through the haze he feels from having her looking up at him happy in his lap. “Your knee! I’m so sorry, Mr. Presley.” Her words are said in a rush as she scrambles to get up, her hand accidentally brushing across his cock before she finally stands up and holds out her hand. “Let me help you up, are you alright—?”

“‘M fine.” Elvis grunts out, as he pulls himself up using Lilly’s hand and his own strength. He hears his knee crack, wincing as it does. “Jus’... Lil–Lil darlin, I gotta, I need to go.”

Needs to get out of her house, needs to not be in front of a woman who has his cock standing at such intense attention that he knows if she looks down she’ll be shocked and horrified at him. He’s committing such an egregious sin even thinking of her this way, even viewing her in the light of a romantic partner, a sexual partner. Viewing her as his—no, he needs to find his way to his truck and to his house to be free of this temptation that he worries he’s about to succumb to. His eyes notice how her face falls but she doesn’t try to stop him, instead frowning and stepping away, smoothing out the bottom of her dress. As if he’s running away—fleeing her presence like all the other men in her life. He moves quicker than he has any right to, right on past her, forgetting about niceties and being a gentleman and wanting to make her happy, shutting the door behind him.

It only takes Lilly a few minutes to realize that she forgot to ask him something about Sunday school and his plans for this week. The question isn’t perhaps important but to her it is. And Mr. Presley has never once made her feel unimportant, so it is without hesitation that she trots outside to where she sees him still in his truck in her driveway muttering angrily to himself while looking down. Her mama had always told her it was rude to eavesdrop and yet here she was doing exactly that as she walked up to the truck, not immediately announcing her presence. She hears curses and mentions of his cock and “she’s a nice young woman, why are ya standin’ at attention like she ain’t married, boy. Like ya ain’t attached to an old man she’s jus’ spendin’ time with to be nice.” 

Lilly wants to correct him, wants to tell him that she values his company because it’s better than anything she’s received in so long and yet she doesn’t, instead choosing to come up to his side of the truck and lean against the window before moving just enough that she’s leaning her head inside the truck as well. What she sees—she could not have prepared herself for what she sees.

Feeling his interest in her is one thing that can be explained through the two of them dancing in a way that had her moving against him. It’s a natural response. Feeling it when she collapsed onto his knee, breathless and laughing with enough joy that she wishes she could chase till the ends of the Earth is one thing. Coming out to his truck because she forgot to ask him about his plans for Sunday school this week and seeing that same interest still there was another thing entirely. Lilly tries to keep her eyes focused on his face, tries to not allow her natural position of leaning into the car to make it easier for her to look down between his legs but her eyes drift there against her will. Her eyes drift and the olive of the suit doesn’t allow him to hide what’s going on. Instead it broadcasts exactly what he feels between his legs. 

There is a spot slowly growing in size on his jumpsuit. There is a spot where she felt his arousal. There is a wet spot on his jumpsuit for her. No, because of her. Mr. Presley is aroused by her, he’s aroused so much that it’s seeping through his clothing. Even when she was younger and fooling around with Nathan she hadn’t seen someone react to her as strongly as Mr. Presely is right now. The concept of breathing is foreign as she keeps looking down at it and she swears she sees the fabric twitch under her gaze. Somehow that twitch and the accompanying noise—the whimper, maybe—from him is almost like a harsh smack to her back to force the air to leave and enter her lungs. 

“Lil—Mrs. Harris.” Elvis’s words are choked out and he thanks God that his stutter didn’t reappear in that moment, the shame of everything making his skin feel flush and warm even as his cock twitches under her gaze, aching and wanting to play with its new friend, its friend it yearns for same as his heart and mind. Damn the societal norms and what’s proper for a good Christian man, he wants, he wants, he needs her to stop looking at it. “I’m—my face is up here.” His hand tightens against his thigh after he says that, almost as if he wants to wince. “What do ya need?”

Her eyes finally wrench themselves from the spot even as his cock twitches yet again, a wave of goodbye to her eyes—to her. What had she needed to tell him? What–What did she need from him other than—? No, it was church. God. It was about Sunday School. A shaky exhale leaves her mouth before she speaks. “I-I just wanted to make sure you–you might want my help again this week with the children? I know that since everyone—all the children seem to have gotten over the tummy trouble that we’ll—you’ll have your hands full and I—” 

The more she speaks the more her mind cycles back to what she’s seen, the more her breaths come by shorter and quicker, her chest heaving right near Elvis’s eye level and that… her dress has just enough of a sliver of skin showing he can see them heave with only her brassiere on, it’s threatening to drive him mad, threatening to cause him to reach out the hand he’s fisting into his jumpsuit to touch the skin. To touch her skin and feel if it’s as soft as it is on her arms and her thigh and— 

“Yes!” His answer is barked out, sounding more like an order than him merely answering a simple question in the affirmative. Forcing it out is the only thing he can do to calm his mind, to calm his cock, to get Lilly, Mrs. Harris to lean back out of his truck and to remove the temptation of her, her, her from his view. “You—please, I’d love your help, told ya before—the babies love ya.” He coughs, clearing his throat, as he remembers how she looks with a child in her lap, singing lullabies and cooing. It does nothing to help him calm his body, to help him calm his mind. “Is—Was that all ya needed?”

Lilly jumps a little at his bark, her breasts bouncing as she bonks her head against the top of the truck with a soft ouch leaving her mouth. Her hand moves to rub at her head as she pulls back a little, trying to keep her eyes looking firmly at his face versus where it had been. She hears him curse and feels his warm hand touching her head where she had hit it, gingerly investigating if she hurt herself in a major way. A hum and a feather soft touch that she wishes were his lips are what tells her she’s fine, there’s no damage done to her head. She should pull away, should finally stop leaning into his truck, should stop acting as if she’s a wife trying to have the last bit of attention from her husband before he leaves for work but she can’t help it. She can’t help how she wants to stay where she is, just because of how heady it feels to see his attraction—his desire for her. When was the last time she had seen Nathan like this? Lilly couldn’t remember. Couldn’t… the realization sucks the air out of the truck and Lilly feels every bit of heat and humidity in the cabin and around her skin. Her mouth opens and closes before she smiles softly at Mr. Presley. “Yes, that—yes. I just—I had forgotten to ask before so that was all I needed, Mr. Presley.” Her eyes glance back down at his lap to see how his hand is still clenching the fabric of his jumpsuit and how his cock once again twitches at her attention. She feels her skin flush and she shivers slightly when she finally starts to move back. 

Elvis looks at her as she leans back, watches her start to stand up straight by his truck and tries to not focus on her chest, tries to not focus how her breath seems shaky as she does this. His mind cannot think about what this means, cannot think about why she’s reacting in this way. She is not—he is not. They are not one. They are Elvis and Lilly. He’s so busy trying to make sure she’s out of his truck that he doesn’t realize she’s leaning back in until he feels the brush of her lips against his cheek. His head turns as if he wants to catch those lips only to realize she’s already left, only to realize she’s back to standing straight, acting as if she didn’t just kiss his cheek and looking so happy he can’t help but be reminded of an actual lily in full bloom. 

“I should–I should get goin’. Mr. Harris should be here soon. Wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.” He looks down at his lap as he turns on the truck and sighs. He needs–he needs to get home, to wash away how dirty he feels in this moment. 

“You–you wouldn’t. But, yes, Nathan should be home soon. Thank you for, um, thank you dancing with me, Mr. Presley. I-It was—I haven’t had a good time like that in a bit.” Her upper teeth worry at her lower lip. “Perhaps… Maybe we can do that again some time. The next time I have to call you out.”

“May—you just have to ask, Lil darlin’.” His answer is airy, shocking him in how it sounds almost as if he’s in a tunnel or floating on air at the idea. The truck is finally ready to allow him to back out and he finally lets go of his jumpsuit to wave at her with a tight smile. “Good night, Mrs. Harris.” 

Elvis tries to not focus on how she looks in her driveway waving at him as if all her neighbors aren’t peering through the curtains wondering what’s happening next door. He tries to not focus on how she looks so natural waving to him with her arm cupping her waist almost as if she aches for… no, she–she wouldn’t. The heat and the events of the afternoon were causing him to think these dumb thoughts, these dumb desires. A shower would solve his problems once he got home. 

His mind wanders in the shower, a consequence of it being one that's meant to relax rather than to just cleanse him of the day's adventures. His mind wanders and rather than settling on the horrors of his memories that he can never get rid of, it settles on her. It settles on the comforting smell of her perfume and how she smells of a soap he swears his mama used to use. It settles on the light he sees in her eyes sometimes that burns brighter than any light bulb or sun or explosion he's ever seen. It settles on the comforting weight of her body against his when he danced with her, lifting her in the air like he was a decade younger and half a person smaller, he thinks. It settles on the weight of her body on his knee, an action that hurt and had him nearly stumbling and falling on top of her, but had him catching himself before he did. It settles on her face, so full of joy and life that it thawed something inside of him. It settles her face with a smile so big he smiles at the memory. It settles on the laugh and the feeling of her kicking her legs while on his knee. It remembers the glimpse of her thigh and—he looks down to see his cock at attention once again, precum already dripping out like he's turned on a faucet and he groans, his fist slamming against the wall as he tries to stop his other hand from wrapping around his cock. He fails miserably and shudders, his eyes shutting and mumbling her name, his mind picturing her sweet hand around it before she puts it in her mouth. His cheek burns when he comes.

Elvis tries to avoid thinking of what happened for the next week. He tries to avoid thinking of how his body can’t forget how it felt to have her notice his arousal, to have her touch his arousal however accidental the action was. He tries to avoid thinking of everything and yet he can’t. It mocks him to the point of near insanity. The guilt of wanting—the guilt of needing—the guilt of wishing has him visiting his mother’s grave one early morning after another restless night of sleep. His joints groan and ache as he sits down next to it.

“I met someone, Mama. I wish she wasn't married. You'd–you'd've loved her. Dances so well, perfect lil housewife. She'd–she'd take care of me like ya did. Take care of ya lil boobie right." Elvis huffs out a laugh. "God hasn't given… Hasn't blessed her wit' a baby and—she'd—it's a cryin' shame. I'd take care of her child any Sunday. Any day."

His mind drifts as he tells her more about Lilly, drifts to a world where it’s their children he takes care of and his stomach flips from the mere idea. Thou shall not covet thy neighbor's wife and thou shall not commit adultery and yet he feels like he’s edging closer and closer to doing it. Feels as if something is going to break inside of him or between them soon. The prayers he sends to God every night are starting to include pleas to give him strength to resist his urges, to allow himself to remain on the correct path and to not allow himself to fall prey to his base desires. To fall prey to sin of the highest order, to wreck a marriage no matter how much pain and destruction it contains, no matter how the pain threatens to burst at the seams. 

“Don’t know why… Don’t understand why God is testing me like this. Lilly—Mrs. Harris—Miss Lilly deserves to be happy. Deserves to make a life with her husband and here the Lord wants to test me by putting–by putting her in front of me like this. By… I don’t know if I’m strong enough to resist. I—I wish she had met me before the war. ‘Fore all this.” 

Elvis feels a gust of wind in an otherwise calm breeze that settles him down as he tries to work himself up. It settles him down and reminds him of his mother’s listening to him and protecting him even in death. Knowing her, she might be trying to have a talk with the Lord Himself right in this very moment. 

“Thank you, Mama,” he whispers as he moves to stand up, running his hand across the top of the headstone. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

Something is different about today, another day Nathan where once again told her to send for the man who tempts her, unable or unwilling to mend his own house. It no longer feels like Nathan’s house, and that should be worrisome to her. Instead, something is different in the air between them and Lilly wonders if Elvis can feel it, if he can't feel how her heart is beating out of her chest when their fingers brush against each other as they swap ingredients. If he can't feel how her breath catches every time she looks up at him and sees him staring at her, watching her stir something or sprinkle a bit of salt onto the food. She wonders if he can hear her thoughts, hear what nasty things her brain thinks watching him be so domestic with her. She wonders what it would be like to be his wife instead of Nathan's. 

Her hands are dirty, covered in raw juice from the chicken and she knows she needs to wash them before cutting up the collards and the snap peas and—Lord she knows she's making far too much food but perhaps Elvis can take some home and remember today. Remember the care the two of them put into the meal. Her mother had always taught her to put the same amount of love in food as you would put into the person you make it for. Perhaps it should worry her that her heart feels fit to burst with her love for this food. It doesn't take too long for her to wash up and grab the towel and yet it's enough time for Elvis to reach a dish above her in the cabinet by her head. It's enough time to have him press up against her, his stomach a warm and solid yet soft presence behind her. It's enough time for her body to freeze in place, before she feels herself sway back a little and feels her breath leave her mouth all at once. It's enough time that Elvis notices these things, sees his reflection against the glass of the window above the sink and sees Lily's against his. He sees—he sees her eyes shut and her head bow as he feels her body shudder. 

A dam—the dam holding back any shred of self control Elvis had breaks in that moment. It breaks the second he feels her body shudder against him, the second he sees her melt into his embrace like she belongs there. A groan leaves his lips unbidden and Lilly, sweet Lilly, whimpers at the sound, her eyes opening and seeing the erotic vision of the two of them still clothed against each other. Her body rocks back even as his arm snakes around her trying to hold her in place, trying to keep her from moving against him and yet it barely works, her body seeks him out, wishes for more than what he’s giving her and he–he can’t oblige. She doesn’t know what she wants. His lips brush against the shell of her ear, his breath a hot dagger against her skin. “You want this?”

A simple question. The most simple question with the most simple answer. A yes or a no determines Elvis’s actions in this moment. A no will have him backing away and apologizing profusely, a yes will have him granting her what she needs, what she wants. It will have him giving into the temptation he should resist but cannot any more. The temptation that the Lord must be putting him through for a reason, some higher plan he doesn’t understand quite yet. 

“Elvis, please,” Lilly’s voice is a whisper but Elvis hears his name finally fall from her lips and hears how desperate her please is and before he realizes it his hand moves to unzip his jumpsuit to reach down at the bottom, to try free his cock as Lilly starts to whine, wishing for more. Wishing for his touch.

As her chest heaves with quick breaths that Elvis tries to steady, a hand snakes up her body until it reaches her chest, covering so much of it that it ignites something primal within him. He’s always known he’s a large man and yet the way he sees her breasts rise and fall with his hand covering one is to know another thing entirely. He almost moves it away before Lilly stops him, her own hand covering his. There’s a tug of his hand forcing it into the gap between her dress and the skin of her neck and collarbone and Elvis can’t help but oblige her desire even as the heat from her body threatens to set the whole of his hand on fire. 

“I gotcha, Lil darlin'. Elvis's gotcha." His words are practically inaudible, they're said so low and deep from within his chest, but Lilly seems to get the message as her breaths start to slow, beginning to match pace with Elvis’s. He’s got her and she can relax. He’s got her and he’s going to take care of the ache inside of her. The ache she’s felt every day she’s seen him since he fixed her oven. Lilly’s brain swears it hears something about him needing to pull down his jumpsuit fully, something about the damn buttons and zippers and she feels her mouth moving to offer to help before she feels the heat of what has to be his bare chest against her dress. 

In another time and in another place he would have her help him, have her lift up her dress and help him with her undergarments but the way she sways and moves against him has him realizing he can’t trust her to do such a thing, he can’t trust her to be able to help him the way he needs her to. It’s not a problem and a selfish part of him thanks the Lord for it, thanks the Lord that she won’t turn around and that she won’t have her hand brush up against his unclothed cock. His foreskin won’t scare her off. He won’t scare her off with the intensity of his arousal and of how his cock is already dripping his precum onto her kitchen floor. It takes some maneuvering and he leans against her, pushing her against the sink, his body practically covering her as he lifts up her skirt and manages to pull her underwear down. Her vagina—her pussy—her flower is glistening just from the touches he’s given her. Nathan truly had been forsaking the wife he promised to love and cherish in the house of God if this is all it took to see this level of pleasure from Lilly. His fingers move to touch, to just feel the slick of her arousal. The cry she lets out nearly has him jumping away and yet he knows he can’t, knows after hearing that noise from her mouth he needs to hear it again. He wants to wrench it from her over and over until she’s hoarse. 

Elvis takes his time sinking into the wet heat between her legs, he’s seen the pictures of Nathan and seen the man in person once before. There is no conceivable way she is used to someone of his size inside of her and he'd be damned before he ever injured her in any way. Let alone when he’s—no, he won’t think of that, won’t think of anything other than treating her as she deserves to be treated by a man. By her own husband but he’ll do—he can do what her husband won’t. His eyes can’t help but watch even as his mind tells him not to. His eyes can’t help but watch how her hole stretches around him, trying to take him in bit by bit. The memory sears itself into his brain and he knows in that moment he won’t likely be able to forget this, won’t be able to walk away from this unscathed. 

Her body feels full, between her legs feels full, she feels so full even as she knows there has to be more. He’s as long as her husband but Nathan’s never filled her like this. It’s almost as if she can’t breathe, the shock to her system too great. She wants to tell Elvis this, wants to tell him this is too much, she doesn’t know if she can handle this and all that comes out of her mouth is noises she’s never heard. Whimpers and whines as he pushes in slowly but surely, his grip on her never faltering, the reassurances never stopping. He’s got her. He’ll have her through all of this. He’s got her even as he bottoms out inside her, a growl of pleasure coming from deep within his chest. The hair on his stomach is against her backside, rubbing against her bare skin in a way that shouldn’t serve to heighten her pleasure and yet it’s all her mind can focus on- it’s the only thing that is bringing her back to the earth, back to the present moment. His thrusts are gentle… almost slow and inviting in the way he pulls out, the stretch of his cock erring just enough on the side of comfortable despite how she feels almost as if it’s catching on something inside of her but that can’t be true, Nathan’s never had that problem, why would Elvis be having it despite how he possesses more girth. 

Elvis wishes this was different, wishes he could have her against the sink with her facing him but that’s—this isn’t about what he wants and desires. This is about Lilly, isn’t it? This is about making sure she knows how someone in this world wants to treat her with the love and care he’s trying to treat her with. This is about making sure the pleasure she feels is almost too much, that it threatens to overwhelm her. This is about her and making sure she is happy and taken care of by him. His head had moved down, kissing at her neck, one hand trying to fondle her breasts while the other hand was resting firmly against her lower stomach, practically cradling where her uterus is—not that he realizes. He knows his body isn’t equipped to last too much longer, his age and everything slowing him down just that little bit and yet the slap of his stomach, the slap of his skin against Lilly’s has his thrusts getting stronger as she tries to thrust back, needy in ways that—from the sound of her sighs—she’s not used to. 

“More.” A sob she tries to choke back. “Please.”

The only thing he has to give her is his come, that’s all he has left from his thrusting, he can’t go any deeper, can’t stretch that little pink hole any more than it already is. He can’t give her anything else that isn’t already there as he hears the squelch between the two of them. Hears how his cock is welcomed by her body, how she’s wet and it’s only been made worse by his precum and he–he has to look up. He has to see the picture they make in the window if only for his own sanity, if only to perhaps settle his roaring mind. 

A second too late he realizes he shouldn’t have looked. A second too late he realizes that seeing the line of her throat as she leaned her head back against his shoulder in pleasure is too much. A second too late he feels his hips stutter as he feels himself coming, feels his come fill the spaces his cock isn’t filling inside of her, adding even more liquid between them and making the noises louder. Her mouth is open as she pants and as he’s looking in the window, watching as the rays from the sunset illuminate the pair of them in an almost heavenly glow, Lilly looks up and catches his eyes. 

Her eyes tighten just a bit as she realizes what’s happened, as she realizes he’s had his release. His hips aren’t moving as he pants behind her, trying to recuperate and trying to catch his breath. Her eyes tighten and her shoulders start to follow suit. This—this is something she knew, this is an outcome she knows. This is where Elvis pulls out of her and leaves her aching and wanting. This is where Elvis and Nathan are the exact same two men when it comes to her desires and needs. She can’t look, can’t watch as he pulls out of her and leaves her to be slumped over the kitchen sink. Minutes pass and yet he’s still inside of her, he’s still inside of her and she can feel half thrusts against her backside, his release and her arousal and whatever else squishing and squelching as he moves. Some trickles down her leg as she shivers in anticipation at what’s happening. There isn’t a reference point, she has nothing to compare this to and yet it feels so right. This feels how it’s supposed to be. 

Elvis can feel she hasn’t come, he knows—he may not know her body inside and out but he knows how women tick, he knows if he were to pull out of her he’d be no better than—he wouldn’t have done what he set out to do against this sink. It’s as if his body and his cock know this, too, and through a grace or an act of God he can feel himself firming back up the more he thrusts into her, the obscene noises between her legs spurring him on. Her gasp sounds like a plea and a hymn all in one. She hadn’t been prepared for this, he can tell in how her movements are scrambled as she starts to rock with him. Could it be that she was chasing after her release? Could it be that she just needed that extra push? He’s already in so deep and his thrusts are going deeper and deeper but the angle, the angle is all wrong. 

“Elv—” Lilly starts before he shushes her softly, his hand moving to between her legs as she keens softly. He doesn’t go where she feels he needs to, where she can feel her body throbbing and she needs him to understand that he’s missing it—he’s missing where she needs him to be but that’s when she hears it. 

He’s cooing, crooning, he’s talking so gently to her, praising her as she tries to stand on her toes, trying to change the angle. If only she was higher up. If only she could allow him even deeper, deep enough for him to be where she feels she needs him to be. A whine leaves her lips as his hand still doesn’t move to help and settles on her thigh, grabbing it and squeezing it as he lifts it up onto the counter gently as he can.

“Let Elvis take care of ya darlin'. You're feelin' something, ain't ya? Somethin' right there, right? You just need help with it, don't ya?” His words have the fire growing inside of her, have her whimpering and nodding because yes, yes, she feels something, she feels that there’s something there. What that is she doesn’t know, only knows that he’s giving it to her, he’s coaxing it from her as she feels him so deep inside she wonders how he fits.

Her hand moves down to between her legs, wanting to touch him, it, herself only to have his hand that had still been fondling her breasts, playing with her nipples to swat it away with a small tsk, “no, no, Lilly, let Elvis—let me take care of you the way you need. Do—can I touch you there? Help you rub yourself there?”

A groan, high pitched and almost anguished leaves her mouth as his fingers finally move between her legs, finally reach the part between her legs that throbs in time with her heart. The sob that escapes her mouth comes from deep within her, a release before he’s even properly touched her. He’s got her. Elvis has got her. He’ll take care of her. 

Elvis is taking care of her as his fingers, calluses and all, brush against her clit, slowly but with such intent that Lilly finds herself arching against Elvis, the strength of his body behind her making arching forward impossible. Her pussy clenches around Elvis’s cock, fluttering while still trying to milk him for all he’s worth. It’s hard to tell who’s making which noise as he thrusts into her, chasing his second release inside of her, never thinking of the lack of protection between them. His groans and her moans and their breaths are a symphony of sounds echoing through the kitchen, his glasses askew on his nose as he watches Lilly lean forward whining, almost as if she’s passing out. His own body follows hers, leaning against her, the sweat between them fusing them together as much as their come is. 

Their breath is the only sound in the room.

#elvis presley #big daddy elvis #spark universe #elvis presley x oc #big daddy and lil darlin' #elvis x lilly #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis x reader #crawfever adjacent #elvis

[melis-writes]

WRITING UPDATE!! 🙏🏻❤️ The good AND the bad news... 👀

GOOD: The Eyes Like Stars girlies are going to EAT!! Chapter 19 will be up and posted... TOMORROW (November 21)!!

BAD: I will be on fic hiatus for any fics outside of The Godfather universe as I'm risking an extreme burn out/writer's block tackling everything on at once. It was great while it lasted but it's just not something I can manage with my current lifestyle atm. 💔 That being said, I need to focus on finishing/writing up all of my Godfather fics before I can return to Eyes Like Stars (which is near completion) and Blood Money.

MAFIA WIFE RELATED.

I'm unfortunately no longer accepting submissions for this fic. I've loved receiving them and looking forward to Mafia Wife anons every evening but it's sadly gotten out of control. My inbox is full of hundreds of suggestions for which I'm very grateful for, but they are no longer just "suggestions". Whole child names and personalities have been picked out for Gabriella and Sonny and other character/personality traits assigned to Gabriella as a whole. Sometimes I think the suggestions are mini fan fics of my own fics in there. 😳 It's reached a degree where there are people getting upset/angry at me for not posting or using their submissions. Also, these kinds of long, extremely detailed suggestions are not applicable to my fics and I sadly find myself barely being able to post suggestions. The ones I have posted will take a very long time for me to organize and sort through to add them to the fic's planning when I get around to writing Chapter 2 which I'm grateful is highly anticipated, and I just don't want to take forever planning/writing that out for you guys.

I may be willing to open up suggestions for Mafia Wife in the future as the fic progresses, but for now I will not be. Please respect this. ❤️

#updates #melly talks #mafia wife fic #eyes like stars fic

[blueisquitetired]

The Birth of a Shadow

Context for this one: This was the originally planned chapter 15 that….. obviously didn’t work out. The original conceit was that Emmet was having trouble using magic, so he had to dive through his brother’s memories to learn what it felt like. It was supposed to be a journey backwards in time, featuring different times of Ingo’s life before he met Emmet.

Unfortunately, that didn’t really work out, and I ended up cutting the whole thing. We didn’t lose too much in the process, just the exact specifics of Ingo’s past and an explanation for his beef with moms. 

So yeah, here’s what got written out, featuring Ingo’s origin story and a tone that really doesn’t match the rest of the fic.

Length: 2,000 words

Rating: G 

CW: Child endangerment? I guess???

Deep breathes. In and out. Reach inside and-

Opening his eyes, Emmet threw out one of his hands, attempting to channel some unknowable energy. 

Nothing happened.

“Any luck?”

Mai sat on the grass next to him, idly plucking strings on her guitar. This was his third day of magic lessons with her and so far….

“No. Nothing.”

Sighing, Emmet lay down on the grass next to her, looking up at the bright blue sky. At least it was a nice day.

“Maybe it did work, but you just didn’t notice?” Lady Sneasler was sitting a bit away with the rest of the peanut gallery. Not close enough to get in the way, but still easily reachable. “It’s supposed to be kind of subtle right?”

“He would feel it. Probably.” Mai sighed. “At least that’s how it works for me.”

“Right. Because that’s been such a good indicator so far.” It was Melli who spoke this time, the warden having joined the group to help Elesa with her embroidery and just enjoy the show. Emmet was starting to understand why Lady Sneasler didn’t like him much.

Still, he had a point. As much as Emmet appreciated Mai’s assistance, one just couldn’t escape the fact that their magics were completely different. Mai’s were nature spells cast via music, and Emmet’s…

Well it certainly wasn't that.

“Well, does Ingo feel his magic when he casts it?” Mai asked, bringing the group back on track. “His magic would certainly be more similar to yours than mine.”

“Not sure.” Shrugging, Emmet tried to remember times that his brother had used magic- and came up frustratingly short. “He does not like using it. Or talking about it.”

“Too bad.” Mai sighed. “That would have been helpful.”

“Hang on.” Elesa finally spoke up, having been far too concentrated on her embroidery to join in the conversation so far. “Didn’t you say you had Ingo’s memories? Doesn’t that mean you can learn straight from the source? Maybe even figure out how he learned magic originally?”

“Wait what do you mean he has his memories-”

That…. was a good point actually. Emmet had been kind of avoiding touching that part of his psyche at the moment, but there weren't any actual barriers. Still, he was still sort of… put off by the idea.

“Those are private.” He managed finally, working around the bitter taste in his mouth. “I have not received permission. Snooping is a breach of trust.”

“Normally yeah, but this isn’t exactly a normal situation.” Pointed out Lady Sneasler. “You’ll need to be prepared for whatever comes our way. I think Ingo will forgive you for a bit of snooping if it helps save his life.”

“I suppose…”

It still didn’t sit right with Emmet. Sure, they could read each other’s minds whenever they wanted- but that didn’t mean they did! Boundaries were important, and privacy was to be respected. Still, Lady Sneasler was right that this was a special situation….

“….alright.” Taking a deep breath, Emmet attempted to calm his racing heart. “I will look through Ingo’s memories. Try to find out how magic feels. Or how he learned it.”

“Attaboy!” Lady Sneasler grinned. 

Mai seemed a bit more skeptical.

“So how exactly does that… work?”

Emmet shrugged.

“It is like meditation? Kind of? I close my eyes and….” He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes, going boneless. “This will take a while.”

“How long is a while?”

But Emmet didn’t answer, already beginning to tune the rest of the world out and sink into his own subconscious. Carefully, he reached for his brother’s soul, embracing it and sinking into his brother’s memories. He wasn’t exactly sure where to start- memories had a tendency to be a bit finicky after all, but if he just started somewhere familiar and worked his way back….

He thought of the first time they met, an old and messy memory colored by time and his subpar human recollection, only still around because of how many times he’d watched his brother’s version.

A version that was responding to the memory he had fed it, sparking up around him and begging to be recalled.

So he let it.

oOo

Someone was crying.

The monster stopped and listened for a moment, the sound of soft sniffles and a human in distress. It really shouldn’t get any closer, shouldn’t approach, especially not after last time- but there was crying! Crying was something it knew well, and if it could help…

Maybe it could assist from the shadows. As long as it wasn’t seen, there would be no reason for the human too….

This time would be different.

It followed the sound.

As much as Emmet would love to relive that particular memory again, now wasn’t the time. Instead, he honed in on that mention of “last time” pulling on it and looking for the related memory. It wasn’t hard to find.

oOo

[This section would contain several scenes from Ingo’s past in reverse order. This would include him disguising himself as another child and getting run off for being a duplicate, trying to take a human form and not doing a very good job (and getting run off), and him visiting Hisui and having a bad time.]

oOo

First, there was nothing.

Not pain, or sorrow, or even emptiness- no, there was just nothing at all.

And then-

“Oh. It’s beautiful.”

There was something.

A… a face? Yes. A face. A… a red face who was…

“Dude it just looks like a blob with eyes.”

A different voice. A different person? Yes, there they were, behind the face-

“That’s just because you can’t appreciate the sheer craftsmanship on display here.” The face moved, getting taller and… further? Further away. (From what?)

“Sure. Whatever. But does it work?”

“Of course it works! I made it after all!”

“…so you haven’t tested it yet.”

“What’s the point of a test? It’s a changeling. They aren’t complicated.”

There was a conversation happening. That’s what this was. Understanding was… difficult, but possible. The whole thing was quite alien overall.

“Anyway, I’m releasing this bad boy today. You wanna see?”

“Sure I guess. Don’t have anything else planned.”

The face came back(?) bending forward and-

SENSATION!!!!

THERE WAS TOUCH HAPPENING!!!

WHAT?!!!

And with touch came feelings!!! Pride and confidence and-

“Huh. It’s being more squirmy than normal.”

Squirmy? Movement? Was something moving?

“Maybe cause you finished it? So it’s ‘coming to life’ and all that?”

“Yeah maybe. Let’s get going before it gets harder to carry.”

And then.

AND THEN.

Movement! Lots of movement! The squirmy apparently! So much movement and things that had names but there was no time to ponder such things as MOVEMENT WAS HAPPENING.

And then movement stopped happening.

And everything was dark.

“This place good?”

“I think so. I checked out a few houses beforehand and this one had a baby.”

“Cool.”

Movement started up again, going a bit before-

THE TOUCH WAS GONE!!!!

Where did it go?!!!

“Now what?”

“It’s supposed to eat the baby.”

“….maybe you need to move it closer?”

The touch returned briefly…. before disappearing again, replaced by-

Different touch?

Calm touch. Sleepy touch. Touch full of dreams, muted sensations of lightssoundscolorsemotions. Touch that-

There was hunger.

Hunger. Hunger. Hunger.

And emptiness. Something that needed to be filled. Something that could be filled if- if-

If there was eating.

And so there would be eating. There would be devouring. There would be biting and tearing and-

yes

YES!

Yes! There was taste, there was warmth! There was energy and magic and-

PAIN

Pain that caused screaming, pain that caused crying. Pain that was more intense than hunger or pride. Pain that encompassed all else and-

Light.

“Yes yes Johny. Mommy’s here. Now what’s got you so-”

A sharp gasp, thudding footsteps and-

“GET OFF MY BABY!”

Touch. But not gentle touch- rough touch. Pulling and grabbing and flinging. Flying before impact, new fresher pain as-

New impact. New pain. New-

This was danger.

Danger. Danger! Pain meant danger and there was so much pain, so there was so much danger but how was-

And then something happened.

Something happened and suddenly the shadows reached out, sweeping in and pulling out of danger. 

The shadows were gentle. Calm. Quiet and dark and-

Grabbing, pulling, RIPPING and angerangerANGER

“What was THAT!?”

There was laughing.

“I believe that’s what we call a failure Alimar.”

“Shut up. Shut up. This is just- just a slight hiccup. We can just try again.”

Try what again? Why was there anger? Why was there failure? Was it the danger?

And why was the pain still there?

Movement. More. Movement that made the pain stronger. Movement that pulled at somethings. Somethings that could be felt. Somethings that could be moved.

“Stop squirming.”

That wasn’t the only somethings. There was more! More somethings that could also be moved. Easier even, since the voice was not holding them. They could be moved, and they were moved because it was fun and made the pain less noticeable. Oh! Fun! That was new!

“What in Titania’s name has gotten into you?!”

More yanking. The face was back! But it was dark. Because it was night. Strange. Night. Had night existed before? What was night?

“Looks like yelling at it worked.”

“Yeah I guess.”

Night was something that came after day. But day came after night. That didn’t make sense. How could it come before and after?

“Okay. Here’s a new place. Let’s try this again.”

That was how time worked right? Yes, day and night were based off of time. Which was. Harder to understand then day and night combined.

The touch that hurt was gone and the somethings were dropped. They were dropped and-

Huh.

They felt.

The somethings were moved, and where they moved they felt. The feeling was soft. Soft because it was a blanket. That’s what it was. 

“Eat the ####ing baby already.”

The somethings were- they were tendrils? Yes. That’s what they were. The tendrils moved and felt and they felt each other and oh! That was not soft! That was… smooth! Smooth! And both tendrils could feel the other tendril and wasn’t that strange. What were tendrils anyway?

…limbs? Right. And limbs were… uh. They were attached to something alive! And they could do things! 

Obviously. They could move and feel.

But what were they attached to?

“….What is it doing?”

“UGH.”

Touch again! Not good touch!! But! There were more tendrils! More! And they were attached to-

Uh-

“Dude I don’t even think it sees the baby.” 

“Yeah I noticed.”

Actually, what was ‘it’ anyway? There was the human baby- but that couldn’t be ‘it’. And the blankets could not see so. Maybe the tendrils? They were attached to something alive, and if it was alive it could probably see!

But what were they attached to???

They were- They-

???????

No seriously what were they attached to.

There was hunger.

Yes but the tendrils!

Hunger.

The tendrils lead to something but that something did not exist but it could be felt which meant it did exist-

Wait.

Was that seeing?

Hunger

If seeing was happening then seeing was ‘it’ and the tendrils were attached to the it (which was seeing) and seeing happened with eyes that could be moved-

MORE MOVEMENT!

Hungerhungerhungerhunger

Movement that changed seeing!! Yes! Good! Good! That was-

Pride! Pride for figuring it out! Pride for-

hunger

Okay okay hunger. Hunger which meant movement which meant-

What was that?

“…is it broken?”

New thing to move!!! It could be moved and it moved a lot and how many more movement-

HUNGER

Right, right, okay. Movement again which was biting and biting on the baby which brought warmgoodenergymagiclife- AND PAIN AND CRYING!!!

PAIN AND CRYING MEANT DANGER!!! DANGER MEANT SHADOWS AND LEAVE AND AWAY!!!

“Wha- hey where’d it go?!”

“#### it shadow sneaked again. I have to catch it before it-”

NOPE!!

IT WOULD NOT BE GRABBED!

GRABBED WAS PAIN AND PAIN WAS BAD AND IT DID NOT WANT THAT!

“Come back here you little-!”

The shadows pulled it far away. Far far away.

Where it would be safe.

#submas #blue’s writing #submas au #submas fae au #pokemon #subway boss emmet #subway boss ingo #WIP

[s1r3ns-c4ll]

Hey siren, so just finished your Poppy fic and I loved it so if it's not too much trouble.

Could you do one with Poppy again where her parents order their crew members capture her on sight and deliver her to them.

Summary : she went on a poacher camp alone and ended up.... ya know

And so FEM mc goes and saves her I need some hurt/comfort in my life.

If any of this makes you uncomfortable at any point feel free to delete this req. Although I did read your guidelines for the request I apologize if you said something about this topic and it slipped my mind

Anyway thank you and have a nice day :)

Find Her (Poppy Sweeting x F!Reader)

Hi! Thank you so much for being my first request! And sorry it took a while! I had a bit of writer's block, but I think this turned out pretty good! Hope you like it! Paring: Poppy x F!Reader Warnings: Implied kidnapping, canon-typical violence. Reader went off in this one. Summary: Poppy had been gone for hours at this point, and you were worried. Natty came with news on the topic, and you were going to find her, no matter what. Word count: 1725 words

This was not how this adventure was supposed to go.

I mean, this wasn’t the first time she’s gone out and saved a few beasts from poachers. Poppy was small, yes, but she could handle her own perfectly fine. 

And she was! She unlocked the cages, setting free a group of mooncalves and a young hippogriff. The Hufflepuff watched as the beasts made their escape and watched as they passed the trees into the forest. 

Poppy began to step backwards, getting ready to head back to Hogwarts, but was interrupted by the swirling of colors that surrounded her, revealing a number of poachers. Very dangerous, very powerful poachers.

Oh no..

“Aye, mate… Ain’t it our lucky day?” She could hear the grin on the poacher’s face, hell, she could see the smile behind their masks. Poppy readied her wand and shoved down any anxiety she felt. She could unpack all of that later.

“It really is! An’ here we thought it couldn’t get any better. The bosses are gonna love this..”

“Time to bring their daughter home.”

Poppy faltered.

Oh.. Oh no.

~~~

You were worried.

And angry, and anxious, and so much more. 

It made you feel bad for the possible worry you’ve put your girlfriend through. Because here you are now, playing the role of ‘worried girlfriend’ and you’re about a half a second away from getting on to Highwing and soaring through the skies to find her (and you still might do that either way.)

You found yourself pacing through the Transfiguration courtyard. Imelda and Sebastian stood across from you while Ominis sat by the fountain. Each of them attempted.. In their own ways, to console you.

“I’m sure she’s alright.”

“Imelda, it’s been hours!” You threw your hands up before you ran them through your hair, mussing

“Sweeting’s capable. Even if she’s got herself into a poor situation, she'll be strong enough to survive until we get there, and you save her like her knight in shining armor.” She shrugged. Imelda’s nonchalance both calmed you, but also exasperated you to no end.

Sebastian raised a brow at Imelda. “You sing fairly high praises there, Melly, I thought you didn’t like her.”

“I don’t. I just know when people are impressive. And don’t call me Melly, you oaf!”

“Right..” You managed a chuckle hearing the banter, and the two slytherin smirked triumphantly. The moment didn’t last, though. The relief left just as soon as it came as you watched Natty run over to you and the others, a look of concern on her face.

“My friends! I have news!” The Ugandan looked to you, and that anxiety you had felt before rose considerably

“I hid behind the cover of the trees, and heard a group of poachers talking about a girl they had taken to their base, east of Hogwarts.. They mentioned their leaders being happy with the- Wait-!”

You didn’t need to hear the rest of her sentence, not wanting to waste time that could be used to get to Poppy. Wordlessly, You pulled out the Nab-sack Deek gave you and released Highwing in the middle of the courtyard. You got on her back with practised ease, and she flew up into the skies under your command, guiding her east to where Natty mentioned, ignoring the protests of your companions. You needed to save your girlfriend, after all.

~~~

“That idiot! She left us in the dust!”

“I’m as annoyed as you are, Imelda, but you best follow her while she’s still within sight.” Ominis stood up and turned his head to where he assumed the other three were, who were still slightly shocked at the speed you had taken off.

“Did you three not hear me? Get your brooms and go!”

Natty was the first to shake out of their surprise, and ran to follow Ominis’ words. Imelda followed closely, but not without having to run back and grab Sebastian by the cloak as well.

“I’m surrounded by idiots, I swear..”

~~~

Poppy was scared.

She hated to admit it, but she was. Her parents stood a few feet away from her. They bickered quietly. About what, she wasn’t sure. Her main focus at that moment was to keep her panic down. You were coming to get her. She knew you were. You were her strong, brave, and immensely wonderful girlfriend. You’ll find her.

Her nerves calmed at the thought of you. That’s right. It’s you. You saved hogsmeade from a troll. You saved Highwing along with Natty from Falbarton Castle.

It’ll be okay..

Crashes and hurried screams made her jump from her thoughts. Yells of protest, magic flying through the air filled the background noise. Her parents started grabbing multiple things and stuffed them into bags as she looked around hastily- until she could faintly make out a voice.

“Where is she!?”

Poppy smiled. 

You found her.

~~~

Explosions, crashing, screaming.. Chaos filled your ears as you and your friends burst into the base, caution thrown into the wind in lieu of your rage. You casted confringo on an unsuspecting poacher, and magically threw an explosive barrel at two others. They were going to pay for taking your girlfriend, and you could care less about the carnage you were going to cause. 

Or at least- the carnage you wanted to cause. Sebastian pulled you back by the shoulder, and you looked at him with a scowl.

“What the hell, Sallow-”

“Let us take care of these poachers, you go find Poppy!”

“But-”

“Go!” Imelda shoved you to the side, and shot a magical blast at an animagus that was aiming at you.

You stumbled, looking at the other three before nodding to them and running off.

You had to find her.

~~~

“Poppy-!? Poppy!!” You ran frantically through the poacher base, the distant sounds of fighting between your friends and the poachers long forgotten in preference of searching for your girlfriend. 

Where is she..? Come on.. Have to find her, have to find her have to-

“Let me go!” There we go.

You ran, practically launching yourself in the direction of the familiar voice. You slammed the door open and the sight left you seething. Your girlfriend, your Poppy was bound by the wrists, trying to pull away from two poachers attempting to pull her through a back exit. One tall in stature, and just a few inches taller than Poppy herself.

Oh hell no.

The poachers didn’t quite register that you were there, by the doorway, and you took your chance. Completely foregoing magic use, you strode right up to them and swung. Your fist collided with the mask of the taller one, knocking it off his face and sending his head back. You didn’t spare a second to take a look at his face, and brought your hands together to slam them down, taking the poacher to the ground. He laid on the floor, and not wanting to take the chance (and also wanting to take out your frustrations) you kicked him, sending him into dreamland. 

With your focus on the man, the shorter one cast depulso on you, and your shoulder crashed into the wall. You inhaled through your teeth, pain shot through your shoulder for a second, and you could faintly hear the worried cry of your name from Poppy. You recovered quickly, though, looking more pissed than hurt. You took out your wand and used your ancient magic, slamming the other poacher into the ground multiple times. Overkill? Maybe, but you were mad and you could worry about it later.

Now that you had the chance to look at the poachers you took down, you began to notice little details.. The same shade of brown hair, the softer face shapes..

So they were the parents she talked about.

You take a moment to calm your breath, shaking the thoughts from your mind, chest heaving from how much force you put into those hits and the anger that was bubbling inside of you. Once your breath steadied, you immediately turned your attention to Poppy, and hurried to untie her bindings.

Maybe it was the relief of you finally being there in front of you, or the fear that she had been pushing down, or maybe a bit of both and more, but words just started falling from her lips, frantic apologies and explanations.

“I’m so sorry, everything was going fine- I- I just- released a few beasts from a small camp. That was all it was supposed to be- I never thought they’d- Never thought I’d see them again- that they’d try to do something like this-” Her vision started getting slightly blurry, and you tossed her bindings to the side.

“Shh.. Shh, it’s alright love, don’t apologise.. You have no reason to be sorry.. I’m just glad you’re alright and that I’m here with you now.” You pull the shorter girl closer, letting her fall into you. You cradled the back of her head with one hand, the other rubbing circles on her back as tears began to stain your uniform. You pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and continued to whisper quiet reassurances into her hair.

You both stay like that for a while, long enough for the battling happening outside of the room to quiet down, until the fight your companions were having had finished.

“Let me carry you. It sounds like the others finished the last of the poachers at this base, and Highwing is worried about you.” You adjusted, moving your arm behind Poppy’s knees and lifted her up. Usually, she’d protest, embarrassed at the attention, but she only curled into you more. You felt he arms tighten slightly around your shoulders

“Thank you…”

“Why are you thanking me? I’d come for you no matter the distance, you know that..”

“And before meeting you, the only one who’d go to those lengths was Highwing herself. But now? Now there’s you.. Your friends-”

“Our friends.”

You heard a small chuckle. There she is.

“Our friends. Either way.. I have more people in my corner, and in no small thanks to you.”

“Then you’re welcome, love..” You pressed one last kiss into her head and began walking out of the room and down into the main area of the base, where Highwing and the other three stood, waiting for you.

#siren hl #poppy sweeting x reader #poppy sweeting x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy x mc #hogwarts legacy x reader #poppy sweeting

[monsoon-of-art]

I don't normally talk about nsfw stuff because I have absolutely no interest in it but there is something so very very funny that there are two fics floating around ao3 with the exact same concept and that concept is basically "Gaeric and Melli hate each other but have sex anyways"

#nsft #the idea is so funny to me #(not funny enough for me to read them though)

[mellybabbles]

Masterpost?! Me?! Never

so anyways have a masterpost

Hello! A masterpost has been due for a long time- but I've finally gotten around to making one!

Dreamscape - Chapter 1/Prologue (multi-sanses x fem reader) Misplaced Royalty - Chapter 1/Prologue (bad sanses x nonbinary reader) Just Add Water - Chapter 1/Prologue (Dust + Killer x Siren!reader) From Me To You (Hiatus) - Chapter 1/Prologue (error x fem reader) Ao3 acc Several other fics on my acc! (mainly dust💀)

Tag List! #melly's silly talks - basically any post that isn't a reblog #melly's silly reblogs - reblogs #melly's reblogs - serious reblogs #my art - my art/drawings/sketches #my animations - my animatics/animations #my writing/my fanfics - writing Tags may differ, I'm really bad at sorting tags LOL

1K FOLLOWERS DITYS HERE!!

Do's and Don'ts!

DNI: Incest, pedophiles, proshippers, dreammare or frans shippers, homophobes, etc

This is a SAFE PLACE. Adults and minors alike are welcome, but please do not make it weird.

Requests are: Open!!

Please refer to this post if you're interested!

Boundaries!

I'm open to talking with anyone, followers mutuals or randoms. My discord is melatonindepicts, and you can also message me on here! I'm a-okay with being pinged in posts! Tag games, art, etc. Tag me in it all! If I don't respond, don't take it personally, it means I forgot or already have seen it/did it Sexual jokes/flirty jokes are okay! I tend to make them, so please let me know if it makes you uncomfortable. Okay, so this one is a bit weird, but if you are an rp account or impersonate a sans (THAT'S COMPLETELY OKAY, i do it as well), please do not say "guys it's me!" or things along those lines to my art/writing. Especially if it's implied sexual/flirty! This makes me extremely uncomfortable, especially if I don't know your age. Unless you're a friend of mine, then go ham, cause chances are I've already flirted with you relentlessly lol

A lil about me!

Hello! You may call me Melly, Mel, Jynx, or Sharpie! Friends call me whatever hehe I'm pansexual, genderfluid and extremely fuckin flirty and chaotic. I have ADHD and heavily struggle with understanding tones and stuff. I have a small emotion range, so I'm sorry if I'm constantly hyper and happy and that bothers you. I'll be constantly cracking jokes, and if it offends you, please let me know! I'm just mapping you out to figure out what's best for the both of us. I don't tend to approach people first, so if you wanna chill and be broskis, sadly you'll have to extend the olive branch. Then I'll probably cling to it like a desperate bird idfk I swear. A lot. Sorry if that scares you I'm Korean-american! Fuck yea, I'mma come eat your dog- /j /j Anyways, so yea, feel free to come poke me whenever :D I'll be happy to breakdance for you hehe

I HAVE A DISCORD SERVER!!! COME POP IN AND SAY HI!! we're almost at 100 members !! HEEUHUHEUHE

#melly's silly talks #masterpost #this has been due for a while

[l-e-e-woso]

Double Date - Rihanna

Jordyn has adhd in this fic.

___________________________________

I was sitting in the living room on the couch with my playstation 5 controller in my hand and my headset on while I played the newest Call Of Duty with my best friend.

“What the fuck is the rest of this team doing man?!” I shout at the tv angrily and shake my head. “I don’t know but they are pissing me the fuck off!” Dante, my best friend said as he killed a few more guys in the game. 

Unfortunately we ended up losing that game. “Bruh your shitttt!!” A guy from the opposite team shouts through the mic. “What chu talkin’ bout?! I got the most kills outta anyone on here!” I say angrily as Robyn walks into the room glaring at me.

“The fuck you shoutin’ fo’? I’m in a meetin’ n all i can ‘ear is chu shoutin’ yo mouth off!” Robyn says, staring at me and smiling at her sheepishly. “Sorry baby…I’ll be quieter.” I say as Robyn rolls her eyes and walks back to the kitchen where she was sitting talking to people about her R9 album. 

“Yo girl sounds hot!” Some random dude says as I watch Robyn walk out the room keeping my eyes on her ass. “Goddamn…” I mumble and lean back on the couch as another game starts up. “Don’t I fuckin’ know it.” I say adjusting myself in my seat.

“You so fucking whipped man.” Dante says laughing at me and I laugh along with him knowing it is very true. “You can’t say shit Dante! Yo just as bad wit Melly!” I say laughing as Dante sighs knowing I’m telling the truth.

Little did I know it had been hours since I got on the game and it was now almost 7pm. Dante had gotten off the game a couple hours ago and I had been playing since 1pm.

I stand up taking off my headset and placing it on the table in front of me along with my controller, I walk into the bathroom not noticing Robyn in the shower.

I go to relieve myself when Robyn gets out of the shower completely naked and scaring the shit outta me cause I didn’t know she was in there. “Babe why aren’t yo ready?” Robyn says as she looks me up and down, seeing I'm still in my grey joggers and a hoodie.

“Ready? For what?” I say confused as she dries herself off before walking into the bedroom. I quickly relieve myself before following after her and wrap my arms around her waist pulling her closer to me. 

I rest my chin on Robyn’s shoulder as she looks around her closet for something to wear. “Were goin’ on double date wit Mel and Dante! I told you to get ready an hour ago!” Robyn said, rolling her eyes as pulls away from me to get dressed and threw an outfit at me to get changed into.

“My bad…I forgot…” I say rubbing my neck nervously as we both start getting dressed.

We both got into the car and got buckled in. “Did you pick up our phones and my purse babe?” Robyn said as she looked at me and I groaned before getting out of the car. 

I quickly get our phones and her purse before running back to the car. “Ooo can we listen to your music?!” I ask excitedly looking at Robyn with a huge grin because I LOVED to listen to her music.

Robyn rolled her eyes as she connected her phone to the bluetooth and Bitch Better Have My Money started playing as I pulled out of the driveway. I start singing along to it and get Robyn to also sing. She started dancing around in her seat as she bopped her head to her own song.

About five minutes later we pulled up to the restaurant that we were having our double date at and I parked the car quite close to the entrance. I jump out the car and open Robyn’s door, holding out my hand to help her out of the car and she smiles at me before kissing my cheek.

Robyn walks off infront of me causing me to look at her ass as she walks into the restaurant. “Stop starin’ at ma ass!!” Robyn shouts at me, snapping me out of my gaze and I run up behind her then grab her ass, giving it a little squeeze. 

Robyn glares at me once again as I chuckle making my way to the table that Mel and Dante were sitting while making out.

“You done eatin’ each others faces?” I say to Dante and Mel as I pull out a chair for Robyn for her, making her smile and kiss my cheek before I sit on my own chair. Dante glares at me making me chuckle as I look at the menu even tho I get the same food every time.

“Babe they have that weird pasta dish you like.” I say pointing at the dish on the menu as I turn it so she can see what I’m talking about. “It ain't weird, you just don’t eat tings with flavour! I already know what chu is gettin’ Yo food be basic!” Robyn says as the waiter comes over to get our orders.

“Hello! I am Luke, I’ll be your waiter this evening! What drinks would you like to start?” This dude says as he blatantly checks Robyn out making me glare at him.

“I’ll get a bottle of your best red wine and a Guinness for her. Can we get two glasses with the wine please?” Robyn says, nodding her head at me as she rests her hand on my thigh.

“I’ll get a Heineken please mate.” Dante says as his arm rests over the back of Mel’s chair.

“Okay! What food would you like to order?” The douche of a waiter says as his eyes keep looking at Robyn’s cleavage, I wrap my arm around Robyn’s shoulders and use my hand to block his line of sight causing him to glare at me and I respond with a smirk.

“I’ll have the spicy seafood and penne. She’ll just have a cheeseburger, no salad, no sauce and fries. Thank you.” Robyn says as she closes the menu and looks at me confused as to why my hand was currently covering her boobs. 

“He was staring at your boobs, only I get to see them.” I whisper into Robyn’s ear as I place a few kisses on her neck. Mel and Dante order their food and about 8 minutes later our drinks arrive, thankfully with a different waiter.

I pick up my glass of Guiness and take a huge gulp, then place it back down. “Ooh good shit.” I say as Iick the foam from my drink off of my lips causing Robyn to chuckle.

“Wanna try some?” I ask Robyn and hold the glass out to her which she takes to have a sip. “God daymn dats actually good as fuck.” Robyn says as she makes a funny face making me laugh. “Ima stick to da wine doh.” She said, kissing my cheek as the waiter came back over with our food. 

“This looks so gooood!” I say excitedly as I go to take a bite of my burger, I bite directly into a pickle, nasty ass shit man. “Fuck sake man…” I mumble putting down my burger on the plate before taking off the top bun to see the pickles. “I’ll just eat my fries then..” I mumble to myself again and reach into Robyn’s handbag to get out a sachet of ketchup. I open it, squirting it onto my plate and dipping a fry into it before eating the fry with a satisfied nod. 

“Babe, you alright?” Robyn says as she watches me inspect my food and sees my upset facial expressions. “They put pickles on my burger.” I said as I ate another fry and looked up at Robyn which made her sigh annoyed because she had asked for the burger to be completely plain, she knew that I didn’t like the feel of certain foods and pickles just happened to be one of the main foods I hated the texture of.

Robyn calls over the waiter to order another burger with nothing on it and rolls her eyes as the waiter tries to flirt with her causing her to lean over and kiss me to make sure the waiter got the hint.

Finally the waiter got the hint and eventually came back with the correct burger, making me happy so I could actually eat.

________________After the date__________________

As soon as we got back home I ran and dove onto the couch, laying down as Robyn closed the door as she chuckled at my behaviour. 

She put her handbag down on the table that was in the middle of the living room and walked over to me as she slipped off her heels. Robyn swung her leg over my waist as she sat in my lap and leant down hugging me causing me to wrap my arms around her pulling her closer to my chest.

“I love you so fucking much. I didn’t even know I could love a singular human so much. I don’t know where or what I’d be doing if I hadn't met you. You turned around my life for good Robyn.” I said as Robyn looks up at me and places her hands on my cheeks forcing me to look at her. 

“I love you too Jordyn. You make me feel…complete. I never felt dis way bout no one an I’m glad I met chu cause you make me a betta version of ma self.” Robyn says as she leans down to capture my lips into a passionate kiss as a few tears escape my eyes as I hold her tightly against me not wanting her to move away.

“You gotta lemme breath baby…” Robyn says out of breath as she pulls away leaning her forehead against mine as we lay there savouring the moment.

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[missamyshay]

because I received an ask about it: Talk Shop Tuesday:

are there rare pairs, unpopular ships, or even a character/character ship you've never thought of that you would be willing to write? but it would have to come with a prompt that's inspiring enough, I assume

Interesting question!! Honestly I’m not sure, I don’t think I’m involved deeply enough in many fandom spaces to know what the highly unpopular ships are (which might be a good thing!)

But as for a character/character ship I haven’t written and would be willing to (if I had inspo), maybe Tony/Rhodey (mcu), or maybe I’d dust off the old MJ/Gwen fic I started and never finished.

Also, this might be irrelevant but if you’ve ever watched Scandal, I think it’d be very fun to write Olivia/Mellie.

#talk shop *thursday