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i-drop-level-one-loot · 8 months

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My corporeal love (Yandere!Fem!Spirit X Fem!Reader)

CW: Yandere behavior, death

poltergeist versus ghost

(Reader) shook her head at the results, deleting the question from the search bar while heaving a deep sigh of frustration.

types of ghosts

A hand reached out from under the chair (Reader) was sitting on, running long nails across one of her feet. (Reader) only sighed again and pulled up her feet and tucked them under her bottom. Ghosts turned out to be real, and they were annoying.

The haunting began like how horror movies promised they would, soon after moving into the new apartment (Reader) began hearing scratching noises late at night and seeing lights flicker out the corner of her eye. At first it was unnerving, but exciting. Hearing a thud from the next room over and having a chuckle after the shock of being startled, it was fun. The ridiculous situation helped dull the pain of reality.

It quickly grew, making her think she saw someone hiding in the closet, only to disappear when (Reader) would flip on the light; waking to claw marks on the bedroom door when she unlocked it in the morning; feeling someone roughly grip her ass while she tried to wash the dishes...

Wild, bulging eyes watched (Reader) as she put away her computer and wandered into the kitchen to make her morning pot of coffee; the owner of said blood shot eyes was a grey toned naked woman with long, sharp nails who sat crouched on the counter.

"(Reader)~" a dry voice cooed while a dead hand reached out to lightly brush (Reader's) shoulder.

The newly single woman had once made the mistake of trying to connect with the entity she shared a home with, believing it to be a lost soul in need of assistance, only to awaken with hands traveling up her thighs and bite marks on her neck. This thing wasn't a soul in torment, but an evil spirit that didn't believe in personal space.

It fed on energy. The more attention (Reader) gave it, the stronger it became, now freely crawling across the ceiling at all hours and whispering suggestive words of praise to (Reader). Which is why (Reader) was now doing her best to ignore her.

"Your hair looks beautiful today. I wish you'd let me run my fingers through it."

A jingle sang out of (Reader's) pocket. She grabbed it a little too quickly, thankful for having something to help her ignore the spirit, but unfortunately was too eager, and didn't pay attention to the name of who was dialing, accidently answering "BASTARD"s call.

"Hello?"

"Finally you answer. I've only called you every single day for a week."

Her heart dropped. "It was an accident, I promise it won't happen again."

"Oh, grow up (Reader). I made a mistake, but you're acting like I hit you or something."

(Reader) clenched her jaw. The woman next to her slowly closed in on her as (Reader) stayed still as a statue. The undead's breathing ragged as it strained to hear who (Reader) was talking to.

"What do you want."

"To talk."

"There is nothing to talk about."

"... You're being childish."

The phone was suddenly ripped from (Reader's) hand, smacking into the wall across the kitchen. (Reader) freaked out, forgetting for a second that the strange woman in her home was an unknown entity and not just a dick.

"Fucking really?!" She cried out as she jogged over towards her cell. "Don't do that! That's my phone!" As she bent to grab it the phone slid just out of reach, her ex's voice still angrily berating her. (Reader) stood, glaring at the approaching thing shuffling on all fours like a gorilla.

She smiled, her buggy eyes still wide and terrifyingly dark, pupils expanded to the point (Reader) couldn't see the irises.

"You deserve better."

Then, poof. She was gone.

(Reader) was stunned. She could still hear the cheater calling out her name from the phone on the floor. For a third time that morning, (Reader) found herself sighing.

"Hey!" (Reader) called out, never having learned her ghostly roommate's name. She passed through every room until she heard scratching from the closet, and opened the door without turning on the light in an attempt to prevent her from disappearing again. The spirit was lying on the ground, scratching at the floor, leaving marks.

"I never found out your name."

"I don't remember it."

(Reader) sat criss cross outside the opened door. "What's wrong?"

"... What if he hurts you?"

"He wouldn't. He's a dick, but he's also chicken shit. I left him because he cheated on me. He doesn't even know where I live now." The ghost seemed unconvinced. "I promise."

She took a deep breath, gurgling slightly as she always did. "I don't remember my name. I don't remember who killed me. But I can feel my bones breaking down in the cement of this building."

Guilt over how (Reader) had been treating the dead woman settled heavy into her gut. Even if she got a little handsy, it was probably lonely being invisible to everyone.

"That sounds terrible. I'm sorry." (Reader) laid down next to her, and she immediately rolled over and latched onto (Reader's) body, her nails digging into (Reader's) back. Her body was cold, and not entirely solid, (Reader) believed she could feel the nude flesh sinking through her shirt, freezing her bare skin underneath.

"I'll protect you, (Reader). I don't want you to end up like me... The pain never ends."

The next two weeks flew by. (Reader) had nicknamed the spirit Lydia. She didn't get the reference and was just happy that (Reader) was calling her something other than "Hey, you". Lydia still had issues with getting too handsy every so often, but as (Reader) came to know her as a person instead of a presence she hated it less and less.

Lydia sat in (Reader's) lap as they watched television together. Her form was stronger than ever, and although she was still cold, Lydia felt like a real human next to (Reader). The connection (Reader) felt with Lydia was comforting, and she had even begun to care for her as someone more than a friend.

(Reader) unlocked the door, opening it to reveal her ex boyfriend standing on her welcome mat with a smug look on his face.

Someone pounded on the front door, banging it hard enough to shake the joints and cause the hinges to clatter. Lydia was immediately agitated, dissipating from view. (Reader) could still feel her presence though, a chill settling in the heavy air, and as she rushed to the front door it felt like she was wading through fog.

She tried to reclose the door the second she registered his face, but he used his foot to block her attempt, bulldozing his way into her new home. "That's no way to greet someone." He chastised.

Her face scrunched up in fear. "How did you find me?"

"Not easily."

(Reader) tried to hold herself steady, but she could feel her body shake with anger. "You need to leave before I call the cops."

"The cops?!" He laughed in annoyance, glancing around his ex's apartment with his hands on his hips. "Jesus Christ, you're acting like a crazy bitch."

Lydia dropped something in the bedroom, and with the crash (Reader's) ex's smile fell as well.

"Is someone here?" He started for the hallway as (Reader) panicked.

"Stop! I told you to leave!"

He burst into the bedroom, searching for whoever had made the noise. Then the door shut on it's own behind him.

"What the hell, (Reader)? Is this some kind of joke?!"

A shuttering gasp emanated from under the bed. Lydia's scarred arms slowly began to drag her body out from underneath the frame, relying on the intruder's fear to make herself visible to him. The man began shaking the handle, incapable of opening the door.

"(Reader)!"

Lydia's body cracked painfully as she stood up straight.

"(Reader! Open the door!!"

"Stop saying her name."

Whipping back around he found himself alone, the broken looking woman gone. He felt his body go numb with adrenaline. (Reader's) ex was panting, trying to figure out what kind of fucked up prank this was, and how (Reader) could have set it up. When he realized the woman was probably hiding again, he turned back to try opening the door again, only to turn face to face with wide black eyes twitching with rage. Lydia grabbed his face, her nails piercing his cheeks and jaw.

From the living room (Reader) could hear her ex scream in fear, smashing against her bedroom walls and ceiling, then silence.

The police would never find his body.

Stored deep inside the building itself, resting between concrete and steel beams, bleeding into the cement block that was Lydia's final resting place. They would never find even a drop of blood in (Reader's) home.

After the noises had ceased, (Reader) heard the door unlock, so she ran into the bedroom to greet Lydia, throwing her arms around her and kissing her gently. Lydia softly crept her hands up under (Reader's) shirt, caressing her bare back.

"I told you I would protect you."

#yandere #yandere x reader #romance #fem yandere #fem reader #yandere ghost #yandere ghost x reader #not proofread #rushed

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tsumuhours · 10 months

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ONE NIGHT PAIRING: suna rintarou x afab!reader (she/her pronouns) TAGS: smut + a little choking (but honestly ur just gonna have to read this ig) WORD COUNT: 2.4k

mature content !

There you are.

Standing across the room, eyes locked with his, practically teasing him as you dance with the blonde whose hands are planted firmly on your hips and your head rested back on his shoulder. Your gaze saying a million desires and words all meant to be kept secrets between the walls.

And all he sees is a glowing vixen that he cannot wait to tame.

Placing his drink down at the bar, Suna leaves the girl chatting his ear off before making his way to you. The crowd parted in his way as if it sensed the dark presence of the brunette which stood among them. His casual strides narrowed gaze and resting smirk not faltering as Suna tapped on the blonde’s shoulder, “I think she’s bored, how about you let someone else entertain her?” He says, pushing the other out the way without another word.

Suna’s touch lighting fires in your body, the intoxicating feeling instantly clouding your mind as your hand reaches up to the nape of his neck where your fingers begin to entangle themselves in his hair. His hands placed on your hips, pulling you closer to him, looking up into his stare. Even in the dimly lit light of the club, you can vividly see the piercing colour of his green eyes. They’re enticing, and magnetic, refusing to let you look away.

You pull his face closer to you, the lingering scent of alcohol and aftershave filling your senses as you breathe him in. Lips ghosting over each other, glancing up at him, noticing the tainted tint in his pupils – one that screamed danger, and a glimpse of insanity – which you ignored for the pros seemed to heavily outweigh the cons.

Closing the gap between you, a hand fists his button-up, showing him just how desperate you are for him. Suna tastes the fruity cherry kirsch on your tongue, the mix of red bull and vodka smeared in with your lipgloss that had begun to wipe away throughout the night. His ring laced hand reaches up to the roots of your hair, gripping tightly as he tilts your head back, deepening the lustful action, his tongue slipping into your mouth within seconds.

The kiss, becoming a heated make-out, messy and rough. A hand reaching down to knead the plush flesh of your ass, Suna begins to break apart from your lips, trailing down your jaw to your neck before leaning in close to your ear. Hot breath on your skin, his touch tracing your jaw to your chin.

“How about we go back to my place?” He says, moving to stand beside you with a hand placed on the small of your back. You turn your head, the corner of your lips turning up.

“I’d like that,” hooking a finger around the chain on his neck as you pull Suna away from the crowd and to the exit of the building. The simple action manages to drive him wild, almost animalistic, the urge of wanting to claim you as his quickly blurring his vision. You push open the door, exiting the stuffy club and out into the cool night street.

Spinning around, you are gently pushed up against the brick wall behind you. Suna towering over, with a hand placed on either side, trapping you between him. The glowing of his eyes in the night resembles one of a predator looking down at their prey, ready to pounce and kill for their meal. “Are you so impatient that you can’t wait?” You tease, playing with the buttons on his shirt, slowly – yet surely – undoing the first couple in the process.

“What’s your name?” He asks, wanting to remember the name of the pretty girl who caught his eye at a dinghy club. If you’re going to be a good fuck, he wants to know who to look out for in the future.

“[Y/N],” you respond.

“Do you not have a last name?” Suna says, dipping his head down to be at a similar level to yours.

“I do.” You tell, “But, I would be a lot less… reluctant if I knew who you are too. This goes both ways babe.”

“Rintarou Suna.” He says, his voice deep and sending a shiver to run down your spine, the world around you going black as a red light shines over his back. “And now, I’m going to ask again, what’s your name?”

You didn’t understand why it was so important for him to get your name and surname, but one thing you were sure of was that you were not going to ask. “[Y/N] [L/N],” you answer. “Do you want my entire life story too Rintarou?” Teasing him, your fingers reaching up to brush at his fringe. “Or can we go back to your place instead?”

Suna, amused by how direct you are, and how particularly eager you are too, brushes it off. Smirking, as he backs away, holding out a hand for you to take so he can lead you back to his apartment. Smiling, you accept the gesture, getting pulled to Suna’s side as he leads you down the street to his home.

By the time the two of you had arrived at Suna’s apartment, he wasted no time. Slamming you against the closed door, his lips crashing against yours. Your fingers work to undo all the buttons of his shirt, pushing the fabric down his shoulders where he throws the piece of fabric off his body then discarding it across the room. Suna, tears off your dress, essentially ripping the item of clothing in half and letting it fall to the floor.

Pulling your bottom lip between his teeth before lowering his head and slowly falling to his knees as he travels down your body. Nipping at the skin at your collarbone before moving down to your chest, looking up through half-lidded up, chilling – and taunting – eyes staring at you. “No bra? Who are you trying to impress?” He hums.

“Who says I dress to impress someone else?” You question, tugging at his hair to keep his stare on you. “Besides, I wanted to look good, and a bra would have ruined my outfit.” You explain, “Not to mention, they’re incredibly uncomfortable. Understood?”

“Aren’t you feisty?” Suna says, “How about you I put you into your place?”

“You can try,” you hum, tilting his chin up, “even so… I’ll always be in control. Whether you believe it or not.” You have a way of… getting what you want. Manipulation? Not exactly, but it is deception. Then again, Suna wasn’t being entirely honest either. “Show me what you got, pretty boy.”

“Anything for you,” he muses. Kisses gave down the crevice of your breasts, hands kneading the flesh of your chest. Teeth gently pinching the skin, tongue pressing flat against the bud of your nipple. Suna travels down your body, leaving purple bruises to form in the place where his lips used to be.

The brunette tugs the thin fabric down your legs, hoisting you up, hands firmly placed on your thighs as he wraps your legs around his shoulders. Suna's tongue attaches itself to your clit, slowly building pressure onto the sensitive bud, repeating his slow yet intense movements of his tongue. His amused hums send vibrations through your body, rhythm picking up and tongue lapping against your cunt.

Suna draws patterns and lips curling around your clit, causing your hips to buck forward and a hand to shoot to his hair as another does its best attempt to grip onto the flat surface of the wooden door behind you.

Pushing his head closer against you, increasing the side of pleasure as you continue to grind your hips to the skilled movement of Suna’s tongue. Breathing becomes staggered, chest rising and falling. Mouth hanging open, eyes clenched shut, toes curling, and legs hugging onto his body. “Just like that,” you gasp, whimpers escaping from your mouth while you succumb to the rush of euphoria and pleasure that races through your body.

Mind going completely blank when his fingers come in contact with your cunt, a moan sounding from your throat. Suna glances up, basking in the wonderfully sinful sight behold him, snapping a million mental pictures. With his free hand, he clenches the plush of your thigh when your nails dig into the skin of his shoulder.

Body flinching forward, legs going stiff, and senses overflowing with an insatiable amount of pleasure. “Oh– don’t stop Rin, you’re doing so good.” Panting, a more vocal moan echoing throughout the apartment, “Keep going, I’m so close.”

Suna complies, not stopping. He’s fuelled by the angelic sounds of your whimpers and moans, and he’s doing everything he can to hear the music to his ears of hearing you reach a release. Ignoring the mess on his lips, Suna picks up his pace, listening to the staggering and whiny responses of overwhelming pleasure which he provides you. Chasing the release, your back lifts off the door, eyes rolling, and your head is thrown back.

Pleased, Suna drags his tongue up your folds one last time before trailing his lips down your thighs, leaving a mark or two. In seconds, he lifts you, wrapping your legs around his torso as he rushes to the bedroom. Throwing you onto the bed, crawling on top of you, where your hands meet his belt, undoing the band and the button of his jeans.

Suna then kicks off his jeans, feeling your hand palm him through his briefs. His fingers wrap around your wrist, wide eyes looking up at him with the appearance of faux innocence, only driving him mad. “You’re needy aren’t you?” The brunette teases, “Are you that desperate Princess?”

Unimpressed, you pull down the hem of his boxers, hand lightly grazing over his hard. Leaning in close, lips brushing over his, rolling your wrist, “You aren’t any better Rin.” You push him down onto the bed, crawling over him, knees planted on either side of his legs.

Pumping his cock, before aligning him with your cunt. Keeping your palm pressed flat against his chest as you lower yourself, satisfied at the electrifying way Suna’s face scrunched up upon feeling your walls around him.

Holding tight onto your sides as you start to bounce, his cock hitting deep, reaching your cervix. Filling you up by your control, rolling your hips, knowing how to find all the right places that work for you and driving Suna wild. He, surprisingly, was perfectly vocal. So whiny and loud, which you loved – it was an insatiable feeling that drove you over the edge. His eyes clenched shut, head rolling back into the pillows, and hips rising off the mattress.

However, as fun as this was. This was not how he planned for his night to go. Snapping out of his daze, the intense fire and longing for control arising, Suna flips the two of you over. Hovering over you, face centimetres from yours. “Open wide Princess.” He instructs thumb pushing past your lips and pressing down on your tongue, “Good girl. Now Stay like that for a few, alright?”

Mouth agape, a string of saliva falls from his tongue and onto yours – a hand wrapping itself around your neck with narrowed eyes that crave power. Suna connects your lips in a lewd embrace, his hips colliding with yours in a forceful thrust. Eyebrows scrunching, nails digging into his back and a strangled moan coming in response.

“Look at you,” he pants, infatuated with how your tits bounce with every thrust. How dumb you look, eyes rolled far back into your head, back arched, and how even in this weak state you’re gripping onto the headboard which bangs against the wall. “I’m fucking you dumb,” humourlessly laughing, “I bet no one else can ever make you feel this good.”

He feels it coming, that insufferable itching at the back of his mind. That intense sense of possessiveness, and all the thoughts of seeing you with other people. Images of them fucking you, your pretty moans that won’t be for him making him angry. He can’t stand it.

“No one will ever fuck you as good as I can,” he growls. Pushing your legs to your chest, allowing him more access to fuck you deep, obsessed with how his dick looks slipping in and out of your cunt. “Tell me [Y/N], have you ever been fucked this good before?” He questions, noticing the tear that slips past your shut eyes from the overpowering pleasure you feel. “Answer me.”

“No,” you whine out. “You’re the best,”

“Yeah?” He says, “You’re just a little slut at the end of the day. Need a good fuck? I bet that blonde at the club couldn’t fuck you like this,” Suna continues, “no one can ever treat you like I can.” He buries himself in your chest, sucking on your tit, “You’re such a good girl for me, Princess,” Suna voices between breathless grunts and curses. “Taking my dick so well, God, you feel so good.” He praises, “If I knew you’d be such a perfect fuck, I would have taken you right then and there at the club.”

You moan in response, his words were enough to send you over the edge to pure ecstasy. Suna pounds into you with relentless speed, under him falling apart, becoming nothing more than a limp body that had been taken over by stimulation and force. The growing pit in your loins growing incredibly, back arching off the bed, as you grip on for dear life. Dark vision growing blurry, mind clouding – blocking any thought or action, temporarily blocking your senses as you started to reach your peak.

“Oh, you like this?” Suna says, “You like the idea of me fucking you in front of a crowd of people? Want to put on a show for everyone to see?” Movements and thrusts grow more erratic with every passing second. “Maybe next time I should make a little film, show the whole world what a desperate slut you truly are.”

Your mind has little time to process the words he spoke before his hips slams into you. Body filled with pleasure as your orgasm rode out. Suna, pulls out, grabbing you by the nape of your neck as he pumps himself. A thumb opening your mouth before placing his cock in its place, releasing it onto your tongue. The white liquid spreads across your plump lips, collecting it with his thumb and shoving into your mouth.

“Swallow [Y/N],” the brunette instructs. Smiling when you listen, swallowing his seed. “Open,” he says, wanting to see, satisfied knowing you listened. “Oh, I like you – I think I might just keep you around.” Laying down next to you, burying himself into your chest, falling tired and relaxed as your hands stroke his hair.

#this was an old thing i did #posted on my ao3 #suna rintarou #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu suna #suna rintaro x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu smut #suna smut #suna rintaro fic #suna rintarou smut #suna rintarou x you #suna rintarou x reader #✰ workie works

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chimielie · 6 months

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wonderland

summary: didn’t they tell us ‘don’t rush into things?’ didn’t you flash your green eyes at me? haven’t you heard what becomes of curious minds? (or: what happens after graduation to a pair of teenagers in love)

word count: 1k

cw: irresponsible decision making (but i assure you there will be no consequences), The Teenage Need To Get The Fuck Out Of Your Hometown, mountains of fluff, my usual Thing iykyk, excessive 1989-related puns

hajime’s never considered himself an impulsive person.

sure, he’s: headstrong, audacious, hotheaded. but he almost always has oikawa spearheading his more reckless decisions with wild emotional situations, a shield that makes him look like a calm, responsible adult. oikawa could make almost anyone look sane.

hajime is pretty sure even oikawa would call him crazy right now, if oikawa weren’t in argentina. maybe, for all his turbulent nature, his friend really is some grounding force; since he’s been gone, hajime’s felt on the precipice of something… big. earth-shattering.

“i just can’t stand it,” you say, head lolled back onto his shoulder, spine curving into his chest. hajime is trying valiantly to ignore the soft weight of your ass on his lap, even though you’re mostly sitting between his applesauce-crossed legs. he can feel it, though, against his right thigh. he is failing miserably. “it feels like everyone’s moving and i’m… stuck.”

“stuck,” he echoes, and you roll your head so you’re looking right, out of his bedroom window at the familiar landscape of miyagi. the sun is close to setting, having burned through the daytime clouds and casting a brilliant glow over you. your lips look darker and fuller and more kissable in this light, he’d thought earlier, right before he’d kissed them bruised.

“more like a balloon,” you muse. “on a still day. just drifting up, and up, and up, and the birds are just flying by.”

he hums, deep in his chest, in agreement. something’s felt wrong ever since graduation. you and he had stayed, and it had been what you both wanted at first.

but not like this.

miyagi without oikawa, without makki, who was rooming with mattsun in the city while the latter earned his junior degree and the former chased youtube fame, wasn’t what he’d thought it would be at all.

“it’s gonna be all ours,” you’d promised him, graduation cap tilted jauntily and smile brighter than the pure white clouds drifting above. “you’re all i need, hajime.”

but miyagi without the people you’d grown up with was empty, a melody that only echoed memories. it was you and him—and the ghosts of your childhoods.

“you’re not happy here,” he says. not a question.

you twist to look at him, eyes open wide. “i’m happy with you. i didn’t mean—”

“i know,” he says, kissing your pursed, worried mouth. “but we’re not happy here. i feel it too. maybe i’m crazy, but i think we need—”

“change!” you’re sitting straighter in his lap now. “every day is the same. i’m starting to feel like i need to do something insane. i need enrichment in my enclosure.”

he puts his arms around you and you draw yourself tighter into him until you’re cheek to cheek.

“do you trust me?” he says. you snort.

“what is this, haji, aladdin?”

“yes,” he says, rolling his eyes. in this light, they’re a forest, green and deep and irresistibly inviting to you. “do you trust me, princess?”

you nod, and he feels it against him, your skin rasping together. “of course. take me to wonderland.”

“that’s corny, too,” hajime grumbles. “don’t criticize my romantic gestures then reference the wrong movie.”

“whatever,” you brush him off. “how much do we need to pack?”

that’s how the sun sets on your last night in miyagi.

hayakawa tomoka’s job at the ticket counter is so boring. she sits there all night—during the day, she studies fine art—, a magazine propped up in front of her, arching high brows at anyone who hadn’t had the forethought to buy tickets online.

she does so now at the young couple skidding to a stop in front of her, suitcases bulging even if there’s only one each, panting for breath and knocking shoulders as though even their bodies are on a gravitational course to each other. they can’t be more than twenty.

“when’s your next flight to california?” one asks, his straight hair sticking up like a hedgehog.

“…where in california?” hayakawa asks, pointing her mouth at them. “it’s a big state.”

“anywhere,” the other says. “we’ll find our way to where we need to be.”

hayakawa blinks slowly at them. these new romantics are too exhausting to deal with at this hour. she types, click-click-click, wrinkling her forehead at the blue glow of her computer.

you stare anxiously at her as she does, desperately hoping for anything in the next day.

hajime tugs you into him as you wait, and you relax, turning a closed-eye smile up at him while he looks down on you with a mirrored expression.

“too impulsive for you yet?” he says, mouth twisting wryly. you shake your head.

“there’s one to santa ana,” hayakawa says. “the south. in five hours.”

“perfect,” you say eagerly.

“thank you,” hajime says.

there are two seats free next to each other, serendipitously. ticket prices are exorbitant, but not bank-breaking—both of you had worked all of high school at the café next door, earning good tips and waiting for something worth spending it on.

“okay,” hayakawa says finally. “your flight’s set, mr. and mrs. iwaizumi. safe travels.”

“thank you,” you say effusively, “so much.”

“you too,” says hajime, and then turns very red.

hayakawa watches you go, a rare and soft smile gracing her features as your suitcases crash into each other even as both of you refuse to let go of the other’s hand to control their direction. the night shift is boring. something like this shakes things up.

after a race—more like a marathon—through customs, hajime finds himself shifting in a plastic seat, peering through the blackness of the night for a glimpse of airplanes landing. falling stars, sort of, magic to be wished on. you breathe evenly, deeply asleep with your head on his shoulder, his denim jacket wrapped around you, leaving him with just his hoodie and the new band of cheap jewelry around his fourth finger.

his mother would flip if she knew how rushed his wedding was. next time, he promises himself, he’ll do it again with you if you’ll keep having him and the ceremony will be beyond your wildest dreams.

it’s colder than he thought it would be in the airport. the earth is moving under his feet.

you’re all he needs; he’s gonna give you the world.

#tbh i usually write hajime w brown eyes even though theyre green in the show im pretty sure. but it had to be done 😏#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #iwaizumi my beloved my husband loml etc etc #iwaizumi x reader fluff #iwaizumi hajime x reader fluff #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff #haikyuu!! fluff #hq!! fluff #hq fluff #what if… i made this a snippet series. like their life as they figure it out as a couple married way too young navigating a new world #step one of the journey to irvine

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kirby0strombolli · 24 days

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Ghostface | Matt Sturniolo P1

'What's the matter Sidney? You look like you've seen a ghost.'

ghostface!matt x reader

Chapter 1: prank calls

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5

a/n: I've kept this post in the drafts for ages, and I've finally added the finishing touches (after consulting many wise writers)!

shoutout to those who have helped my clueless ass: @freshloveforthefit, @vanteguccir , @bernardsbendystraws ty!

______________________________________________________________

The steam enveloped her as she stepped out of the shower, tendrils of mist clinging to her skin. The dim light of the bathroom cast long shadows across the tiles, creating an eerie ambiance.

Her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of the evening ahead. She and her boyfriend, Matt, had plans to attend a party later that night. Little did she know, it would be a fateful decision.

As she reached for a towel, a strange sense of déjà vu washed over her, prickling at the back of her neck.

Suddenly, the shrill ring of the old telephone shattered the silence, echoing through the small apartment. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the receiver, a sense of foreboding tightening in her chest. But curiosity compelled her to answer, her fingers trembling as she lifted the receiver to her ear.

"Hello, speaking?" Her voice wavered slightly, uncertainty lacing her words.

She had an inkling that it could be the assholes from high school, who had been bombarding her with useless prank calls.

Silence greeted her at first, followed by the crackling static on the other end of the call.

Confusion clouded her thoughts, and she hesitated, unsure of whether to hang up or not. Before she could gather her thoughts, the phone rang again, more insistent this time. With a sigh, she answered, curious.

"Listen up, jackass, I told you to stop with these prank calls!" she exclaimed, frustrated.

On the other end of the line, there's a brief pause before the low, mysterious voice responds, "Prank calls? Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what's coming for you."

The words send a shiver down her spine, but she brushes it off, convinced it's just some sick joke. Yet, there's something in the caller's tone that felt eerily familiar.

Ignoring her unease, she retorts, "Yeah, right. You think you can scare me? Think again, loser." With a defiant click, she hangs up the phone, dismissing the caller as nothing more than a nuisance.

But as she wraps herself tighter in the towel, the feeling of being watched intensifies. Every creak of the floorboards, every whisper of the wind outside, sends a chill down her spine.

Then, just as she's about to dismiss it as her imagination running wild, the phone rings again, its shrill tone cutting through the silence of her apartment. With a heavy sigh, she reluctantly picks it up.

"Alright, prankster, what do you want now?" she snaps, her irritation palpable.

The voice on the other end is calm, almost amused. "Just curious, sweetheart. What's your favorite scary movie?"

Her confusion deepens. "What? Who is this?" she demands, her heart pounding in her chest.

But the caller ignores her question, pressing on with his inquiry. "Come on now, don't be shy. Everyone's got a favorite. What's yours, y/n?"

How could this person on the phone know her name? Every instinct screamed at her to hang up, to run away from this unsettling situation.

As her mind raced with fear and confusion, her thoughts began to drift to her boyfriend, Matt, and the upcoming party.

"I- "How do you know my name?" She manages to stammer out, her voice trembling with unease, "I never told you my name..." She trails off, horror covering every part of her face.

"Tell me about yourself." the caller breathes, simply ignoring my frustrated panic.

"Why do you want to know about me?" she shrieks in fear.

"Because I want to know who I'm looking at."

Her eyes widen in fear as she spins around, the constant dread of being watched intensifying. "What did you say?" she demands, her voice trembling with unease.

"I said I want to know who I'm talking to."

"That's not what you said." she slowly replies, unsure.

"What do you think I said?" the caller chuckles in malice.

Her heart skipped a beat, the question sending a shiver down her spine. "I don't want to talk anymore." she uttered, the words barely audible over the line.

With a jolt of terror, she flung the phone receiver down, the sharp clatter echoing in the silent room.the lights flickered and died, plunging the apartment into darkness. Panic clawed at her throat as she fumbled for her phone, the silence around her suffocating.

And in that moment of darkness, with the echoes of the mysterious caller still lingering in her mind, she knew that she was not alone.

But what she didn't know was that her boyfriend, Matt, was hiding a dark secret, one that would soon unravel in a horrific and tragic way at the party they were about to attend...

a/n: hope y'all enjoyed it!! (part 2??)

#ghostface #scream movie #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader

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historiaxvanserra · 16 days

Text

A small snippet of something I've been working on! (yes it is dual POV but you'll see why in good time, babes) it's a whole ass novel that's why! a preemptive acotar 6 re-write, if you will!

I'm just testing the waters to see if anyone is remotely interested and because I'm really excited about this one! I think maybe, at least until my teacher training year is over this is going to be my main (only) writing focus other than original work. Like I said its a BIG undertaking but I'm really hyped for it.

AZRIEL'S POV

She had first come back to him on a night like this. In flashes of violet and onyx; painted in the seraphic light of a bleeding star. Haunting and prophetic.

It’s his first Starfall in Illyria in half a lifetime and he’s alone; far from anywhere that feels like home. That’s when he feels it. A cataclysmic vein of power that reverberates through the Illyrian wilderness. So profound that he swears the mountain trembles in the wake of it. Some dark star streaks across the sky; bleeding silver and cerulean into the velvet abyss that saturates the mountains in Ramiel’s long shadows, and for the first time in a long time Azriel finds himself uttering her name like an oath.

There in the heavens, and saturated in the darkness at the edge of the world, he finds her again. Azriel reaches out a scarred hand and tracks the star as it arches across the cosmos in veins of violet and cerulean, his fingers ghost a smattering of silver stars that form a constellation in the shape of her. She calls to him. In a language so old, and lost to time, that only the earth itself might infer some meaning from the whispers of power on the westward wind.

A secret contained between him and the sky.

The Solar of Rhysand’s mother’s cabin is reminiscent of the Temple of The Mother in Velaris; sacred and saturated in the technicolor light of the stained glass crescent moons that curve across its high-domed ceiling. A myriad of indigo and amethyst; incandescent with flecks of gold and jade as the crystals inlaid into their center catch in the light of a thousand silver stars. This room is a testament to the craftsmanship of the Illyrian people and on nights like tonight that domed ceiling is the lens through which he sees the world.

The stars continue their ascent across the heavens into the small hours of the morning and Azriel watches every last one, hoping to catch one more fleeting glimpse of her as she crosses over the constellations stitched into the very tapestry of the sky over Illyria. At some point as the brightest stars burn blue against the black Azriel finds himself reclining into the makeshift bed in the Solar of the cabin as his body, weary and worn, begins to flirt with sleep.

That night when he dreams, he dreams of her.

Azriel waits beneath some ill-fated sky as the scene unfurls from the dark corners of his memory. Like a hand reaching through the veil of the dark-- and he reaches back.

The sky is a thunderstorm, heat swelling beneath the skin's surface as the clouds begin to gather in hordes and Ramiel’s dark shadows veil the world as he knows it in a shroud of black. The seraphic blue light of the three pointed star cuts through the blanket of the dark, offering Azriel a reprieve from the suffocating blue-darkness that swallows everything in its wake. Drawing peace from the shadows.

In his dreams, the storm-streaked clouds loom ominous on the darkening horizon as midnight encroaches on the Illyrian wilderness and Azriel finds himself wading into the stretches of the wild, emerald forest. A voice, disembodied and cruel, calls out to him from the emerald wilderness. It’s laden with malice and dark intent as it whispers to him on the westward wind.

The road ahead of him is muddy and foxgloved and there's this ache. It’s a dull kind of agony that cuts through his chest and makes a home in the spaces between his ribs. And there is a girl. She’s screaming into the vacuous twilight beyond and the stars seem to flicker in and out of existence each time the howling wind catches in her throat. Uncertain feet carry him over the threshold of the encampment and every now and again his feet feel a tremor in the muddy earth-- a recollection of all that he had lost.

The atmosphere is oppressive and the acrid smell of smoke and rain linger there, clinging to the half-eroded stone and decaying wood. This cabin, once warm and breathing itself to life with the symphonies of her gentle laughter and Azriel’s mournful song. But this place had been abandoned long ago. Now, it lies desecrated, amongst the climbing ivy and dying jasmine. The cabin breathes an unsteady breath each time the wind catches in the hearth; it’s aching and heaving like every breath might be its last.

Azriel’s shadows convulse and contrort violently. Like ghosts in his periphery. The world goes dark for a moment and the war drums echo in the night air. Something ancient and long dead calls his name.

Azriel.

Through the blanket of the dark all that he can see are her eyes, glinting and violet in the unforgiving light. It’s then in the light of the waning moon that his eyes map the constellations of scars that adorn her body. All silver and incandescent as though she is wreathed in starlight. She comes to him like night; veiled in shadow and shook up with the sound of the storm. She looks half-divine and Azriel thinks that she must be both, ghost and Goddess. Lithe and brutal. The apparition of some ancient deity. There is something wild and sacred in her eyes. Some strange melancholic beauty that almost brings him to his knees.

She had been lovely in life, Azriel thinks. But now. Now she is fucking annihilating.

The storm on the horizon shakes the earth and the world is afire with forked lightning as it illuminates the velvet night. She waits beneath the same storm-streaked cloud and a ripple of devastating power shakes the earth beneath her feet. The world falls silent as she falls to her knees at the foot of the hearth and Azriel swears he can hear her praying. The prayers that fall from her lips are in some ancient tongue; the words are unknown but the sentiment is clear.

She’s searching for salvation on unholy ground, like a shadow unearthed from its grave. Lightning cracks and the cabin heaves its dying breath and Azriel holds out a scarred hand to her.

She reaches back.

Azriel wakes with the first light, the mournful song of his shadows severing his tenuous connection to the Otherworld. It’s an old melody; sung softly to babes while still in their swaddling. Its words are uttered in the Old language and much of its meaning has been lost to time but Azriel still recognises the tragedy embedded into its verse. His own mother had often hummed the words of that ancient melody in those hours when he and her were reunited in the darkness of his fathers house.

The shadows sing of The Fates; the severing of sacred threads and a blue star that reigns over the valley that heralds the coming of the Old Gods. It is a song that maps the history of his people, brutal as it might be. The shadows tell the tale of Enilaus' defense of Ramiel and a temple beneath the great mountain. Azriel clings to each word, searching for some semblance of meaning in the shadows' cryptic verse.

With each passing hour Azriel finds that his return to Illyria brings with it a strange sense of remembrance; of things passed, of things long forgotten.

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x you #WIP

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itjazzbicch · 4 months

Text

Never Happened

Pairing: MKX Erron Black x Reader

First time writing for Erron so I hope I did well! (I'm obsessed with MKX Erron so here we are lol)

Summary: Faking their death, the reader had been in hiding for a long time, only returning to Outworld because of the war between Kotal and Mileena, her motives a mystery to an old friend who discovers her and they both agree that nothing ever happened...

Warnings: Swearing, some flirting, hinted that they used to have an intimate relationship

Word Count: 0.7k

There was inevitably going to be a wild turn of events given Mileena and Kotal were waging war over Outworlds' thrown and what exactly was that wild turn of events?

Me.

I had to stay hidden for one more night, in an untouched forest. Given the creatures that called this forest their home, it made for a good hideout if you had the survival skills that were necessary, which I did.

Everything was going according to plan. All that was left was to weather through the night, till a specific piece of my past came back for me.

Hearing some leaves crunch, I had high ground in a tree. In the darkness, I couldn't make out who it was, but I found it strange that they made it to exactly where I had been.

It was as if we were reading each other's minds, making our presences known as I pulled out my dagger, blocking a bullet, the gun that went off giving away their identity.

"Well shit," Erron huffed at me, finding my eyes in the moonlight under my hood, "It's a ghost."

"I figured you of all people could figure out I've been alive this whole time, cowboy." A long, long time ago, I faked my death in order flee Outworld. I had only returned because of this war Mileena and Kotal had caused, but I wasn't there to choose sides as Erron assumed:

"Mileena must be pullin' every card she's got, hu-"

"Who said that I was here to aid, Mileena?"

"What are you doing here then?"

Erron and I's past was complicated to say the least, but there was always this something between us. It'd been there since the day we met and with the look in his eyes, we could both feel that it was still there.

"So many questions," I huffed, not letting my motives out and teasing him, "Can't even say hi to an old first? Also, I'd appreciate an apology for trying to kill me just now."

"But I didn't," He chuckled, swirling his gun back into its holster, "And if I wanted to, I could've."

"Yeah, right," I laughed, recalling, "Remember the first time we met, and I kicked your ass?"

"As nice as it is to catch up and all," Stepping up to me, he was done playing games, direct and stern in his tone, "I'd like to know why someone who's supposed to be dead suddenly reappears when a war is breaking out."

"I'm not here for what you think I am, Erron," Staring deep into his eyes, I wasn't going to answer him; he didn't know my extensive past, thus why I was there, instead explaining to him, "I know that you're short on time and the story would be too long to tell. So, let's just pretend this didn't happen? Hm?"

"I don't think so," His fingertips were ready at his holster again; he must've been on edge, "I don't know what happened when you 'died' but I know this shit is way too coincidental."

"I see where you're coming from," Sighing deep, this was my one last effort to try and convince him before either fighting or retreating, my hand resting against his mask to pat his cheek, "But I swear to you, I am not your enemy."

The spot he had for me started to soften up, the emotion in my eyes showing I told no lies, longing to see his face, pinching his mask and whispering softly:

"It is nice to see you again, although it's not how I imagined."

"You owe me," Revealing his face, he hadn't changed a bit since the day I met him, smiling even though he was mean mugging me, his voice dying to a growl, "If anyone knows-"

"No one will, because this never happened, remember?"

Exchanging smirks, I had to giggle because it felt like old times again, hooking an arm around his neck for a soft hug, kissing his cheek and promising in my whisper:

"When the time's right, I'll tell you everything, but for now, this never happened."

"Alright," He mumbled, fixing his mask as I began to walk away, stopping at the slap I felt on my ass, quickly turning to look at him chucking, "What? Nothing happened."

Even I had to laugh, blowing a kiss before I disappeared into the night, "You haven't changed a bit, cowboy."

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x y/n #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat oneshot #erron black #erron black x reader #erron black x y/n #erron black imagine #erron black fluff #erron black angst #read and enjoy

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captain-mj · 8 months

Text

Vampires Part 8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Soap sat at the table right after sunset. His vampires, Price, and now Chuy, because apparently he decided to invite himself in, were sitting with him. Chuy was wearing his outfit again, deer skull included. It made him look very unnerving.

“So your fiance will be here soon?”

Price nodded excitedly. “Yep. She’s wonderful.”

“She?” Ghost laughed before realizing he was serious. “Ah. Damn. Seriously?”

Price frowned. “I’m bisexual.”

“I know, I just thought better of women. Even witch women.” Ghost replied, shrugging.

Price stared at him, slightly opened mouthed. “Damn. Cold, Simon.”

“Ghost.”

“Simon. Anyway, she’ll be here shortly. Her name is Clara.” He looked so happy that Soap couldn’t help but feel happy for him. Even if he was pretty sure Price was being used.

Alejandro hummed. “Right. Anyway.”

Rodolfo raised his hand. “I don’t really care about your fiance, I’m more worried about the hunter walking around talking about bigfoot. Can we focus on that?”

“No. you guys gotta meet my fiance.”

“Fuck that.” Alejandro spoke up. “I agree with my lovely husband.” He kissed Rudy’s hand, looking at him with giant heart eyes.

Ghost groaned. “Do you guys have to be so in love?”

“Loser.”

“Lonely ass bitch.”

Ghost frowned. “Goddamn…”

Price hissed loudly and they all turned towards him. He looked a little flustered, as if they weren’t actually supposed to hear him. He took a deep breath. “As the eldest vampire, I am requesting you guys please meet her.” It was said with a touch of… sincerity that had been absent from Price in a wild.

Interviewer: I’ve been meaning to ask. Ghost puts up with Price because he’s his sire. Rodolfo seems to like him. However, you don’t seem to like him.

Alejandro: Don’t know. Guess I miss how he was. Sometimes it feels like I got the last few years of lucidity. He probably told he was four hundred years older than Ghost right?

Interviewer: I thought he said two hundred.

Alejandro: He told Rodolfo a hundred. I thought for the longest time it was just something he did, but I think he just doesn’t remember.

Interviewer: Ah. And the comment about lucidity.

Alejandro: I think he’s half insane. It happens. Mentally, being alive a long time… it makes things tiring.

Interviewer: I noticed the way you looked away when Rodolfo asked if you regretted being turned. Do you?

Alejandro: No. Course not. I love my husband.

Interviewer: I can see your love and devotion to him. But I’m asking, do you wish you died human?

Alejandro: Sometimes, I do. I wish Rodolfo killed me that night. However, I’d never want to make him go through the centuries alone, so I’m glad I am here with him.

Interviewer: Thank you, Alejandro.

“Alright, sir.” Ghost mumbled. “I’ll meet Clara.” He smiled, eyes crinkling.

Price smiled at him gratefully. “Thank you, Simon. Rodolfo, Alejandro, Gaz, I hope you all like her.”

Simon and Chuy looked at each other and shook their heads.

Gaz hummed. “Will it be super awkward?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Gaz nodded. “That sounds nice. Like chicken soup after a hard day. I’m in.”

Interviewer: So do you regret turning into a vampire?

Gaz: How do you know I wasn’t born an energy vampire?

Interviewer: Oh, were you? That’s fascinating.

Gaz: No, I mean I was turned. Just why did you assume?

Interviewer: I mean. I just thought all vampires were turned. Who was your sire?

Gaz: My mom when she birthed me. I lied, I was born.

Interviewer canceled the rest of the interviewer due to “broken pencils”.

Price smiled fondly at Gaz before quickly going to get the door, answering before Clara even had the chance to knock. She giggled as he picked her up and twirled her before leading her to the kitchen.

“Oh this is nauseating.”

Rodolfo hit Ghost. “They’re cute.”

They kissed passionately.

“Nevermind.” Rodolfo hissed under his breath. “Clara?”

Clara quickly pushed Price back a little and properly introduced herself. She was how described. Dark hair and nice.

Too nice.

Soap liked her. She shook his head and smiled at him before moving on to them.

“Oh!” Clara said softly while staring at Ghost. “You must be Simon.”

Price flinched and looked guilty. And a tiny bit betrayed, as if he had warned her prior.

“Don’t call me that.” Ghost got up. “Okay, this is horrible. I need to leave.”

Price grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back into his seat. “A little effort.”

“Don’t call me something stupid.”

Price sighed and plastered a smile on his face. “Ghost.” He introduced everyone there to Clara and Clara waved just a little. She didn’t look at Price much, but when she did, she did look like she liked him. Maybe not love in any of their opinions, but that’s okay. Maybe it would blossom?

If they stayed together long enough.

Maybe.

The two of them stared at each other for just a second and Chuy got uncomfortable.

“Alright. I’m gonna head out.”

Clara frowned a little before perking up. “I’ve heard about a hunter in this area. Hope you’re doing okay and he hasn’t given you too many problems.”

Chuy faltered and shrank down when Reyes got brought up. Ghost wondered why he didn’t just have them get rid of the guy. It would be easier.

“Well… yeah. He’s uh… Yeah…”

Clara noticed his hesitance and decided to drop it.

They had a delightful conversation honestly.

Price informed them all that the wedding would be that Friday. “Because of the goddess Freyja. May she bless our marriage.” He smiled, showing fangs.

Rodolfo looked at the interviewer, clearly cringing.

“That sounds wonderful.”

“May Clara stay here until then? We’re having the ceremony in the graveyard nearby.” Price took his hat off and held it to his chest in a pleading manner.

Collective groans occurred before they agreed. She could stay.

Interviewer: The vampires think you’re after Price for his… uh…

Clara: His money? No. I’m rich enough actually.

Interviewer: No his… um… Dick?

Clara: It’s great, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not that artificial. I just want his heart.

Interviewer: That’s sweet.

Gaz put his hands on the table. “Before I ask this, I promise not to feed on anyone.”

Price nodded. “Okay.”

“Can I bring Alex?”

“That dog?” Price groaned.

Alejandro started to look at face masks and Febreze.

“Yes. He’s my boyfriend. You can’t tell me he’s not attractive.”

Soap nodded. “And really cool too.”

“See! And he doesn’t smell bad. He smells like cologne because he drowns himself in it before he comes here.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

Gaz sighed. “If he can’t come, I’m not coming.”

Price rubbed his temples. “Alright. He can come. Have him invite Laswell too.”

“At that point, why not invite the rest of the pack?” Alejandro pointed out, frowning. More out of confusion than anything else now.

“Fair. Let’s just invite all of them. And Chuy. And Koenig if the lad can ever make it here. I heard he was coming to our area a while ago.” Price pointed out.

Ghost hummed. “I’ll reach out to him through the ether later.”

“Fantastic idea!” Price clapped, looking very excited. “I’m getting married again!”

Interviewer: So, why do you want to kill bigfoot so bad?

Reyes: Bigfoot took someone very dear to me.

Interviewer: You want revenge?

Reyes: Yes. Bigfoot took… well. I shouldn’t say boyfriend. We were neighbors. Jesus. He was beautiful. He was kind. Rather generous but could set harsh boundaries if needed. I fell in love with him more every time we interacted. I watched that thing disappear from his home the same night he disappeared.

Interviewer: And why a crossbow?

Reyes: Well, the majority of hunters use them. They’re quieter, easier to certain materials, and you can reuse arrows. Plus, a lot of creatures aren’t hurt by bullets and needed something sharp that will pierce them.

Interviewer: Fascinating. Thank you so much. What else do you hunt?

Reyes: Well, normally I hunt and kill werewolves but since the night happened, bigfoot is all I have my eyes on.

Interviewer: Understood. And where are your plans now?

Reyes: To break into the Scottish man’s home because I know he’s harboring monsters.

Interviewer: How can you tell?

Reyes: Only someone who knows of monsters listens to advice from someone who’s a monster hunter. He didn’t take me seriously, so he wasn’t paranoid.

Interviewer: That’s smart.

Reyes stayed true to his word. He caught them by surprise because the interviewer wasn’t going to interfere there. With his crossbow in hand, he aimed right at Chuy. Deer skull shining in the cryptic light of the room.

“You bastard. I am finally getting my revenge against you.”

Chuy perked up when he came into the room. Not flinched or shrank or looked to leave. He leaned into Reyes’s aim. Soap thought he was an odd fellow.

“Why?” Rodolfo interrupted his clearly well thought out speech. He was currently sewing and seemed a bit put off about being interrupted. Everyone else was around doing similar hobbies now that Price had stopped talking to them. Even Soap was just casually drawing.

Reyes stumbled over it, caught off guard. “As I was about to explain.”

Clara snapped her fingers. There was no blast or light. Just a simple sound.

Reyes swallowed thickly and shook his head. “Ah…. I was saying…” He paused again and this time frowned. His nose twitched and all the bravado left him.

The man shook and shuddered, not fully reacting yet but clearly something… internal was happening.

Chuy stood and rushed to grab Reyes who tried to get away from him. Soap prepared himself to watch Chuy rip the man to shreds but before Chuy could even lift his mask to uncover his mouth, Reyes shrank and contorted. His body twisted and curled, enough to drag ragged, pained groans before they transitioned into squeaks. The shirt in Chuy’s hands stayed solid but the rest dissolved and bubbled into the rest of him. And in his place stood.

A rat.

Well groomed and with fur as dark as Reyes’s hair. It looked soft. Almost cute.

Chuy scooped him up immediately. “Enzo?”

The rats frantic movements to escape halted as it went still, looking at Chuy with wide rat eyes.

Chuy slid the mask off, revealing his face to the rat who continued to stare.

“Mi corazón. I am so sorry. I was so bored with my old life, I never anticipated anyone noticing me being gone. Yes, I lived as your neighbor your years, but I never realized how you looked at me.”

Alejandro stopped playing the piano. The room was silent.

“I noticed you but you were human. I couldn’t… drag you into this world when it’s so unsafe.”

If Ghost put his hand on Soap, it wasn’t noticeable.

“I live so long. I wanted to start new. Do something completely different. You were… new. So fun. Interesting. As you chased me, I will admit, I grew affectionate for you. Maybe that was my mistake, putting you in such danger.” Chuy gently pet the rat, watching it relax. “Mi corazón, can you understand me?”

No response.

“That is okay. It’s best you still don’t know my affections. You should go home. Be human like you’re supposed to be.”

Chuy gently held the rat. “My sweet Enzo.” He took a deep breath and held him out to Clara. “I appreciate what you did. But I’d like you to turn him back and erase his memories of me.”

Clara frowned. “No.”

Chuy frowned. “What. No. You don’t get to say no, change him back.”

“I can’t. I’m not able to erase memories. Not the right kind of witch for that. If I make him human, he’ll probably kill us.”

“No, listen, I can talk to him then. Convince him to leave, he has a soft spot for me, It’ll be fine.”

Clara frowned and waved her hand, but nothing happened. “Sorry, out of juice. He’s stuck.”

Chuy stared at Enzo, the rat in his hands.

“Look, luckily with his age, you have another few months!” She clapped happily. “Plus, well, he was only human. What’s the saying? Don’t worry about breaking them, they’ll die soon anyway? Or is it don’t worry about breaking them, they’re replaceable? You said it yourself, this world is dangerous for him. At least now, you can keep him safe in your pocket. Now, I’m going to go finish planning my wedding.”

Chuy stared at Reyes in his hands, clearly seething. He growled and Soap noticed how many teeth he had.

“Do any of you know any other fucking witches?”

#captain john price #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #call of duty #johnny soap mactavish #soapghost #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii #Vampire Au #rodolfo parra

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from-memphis-with-love · 25 days

Text

Songbird - Ch. 3 - Dinner and a Show

Summary: Valerie and Elvis grow closer. Note: Okay, so there is controversy over whether Elvis actually ate peanut butter and bacon on sandwiches. Some people say he ate peanut butter, bacon, and banana sandwiches all the time. Others say it was just peanut butter and banana. And some (Ginger Alden) said he didn't eat them at all. You decide. Nevertheless, I wanted to include him eating peanut butter and bacon on sesame rolls here just as a fun little Elvis tidbit for the story. Suspend your disbelief, everyone! Word count: 7,800 Warnings: Infidelity; subtle references to sex

My eyes snapped open, heart pounding like a jackhammer. Remnants of last night's fever dream clung to my skin—searing touches, smoky whispers, the ghost of a kiss that almost met my lips. Holy mother of God, did that really happen?

I fumbled for my nightstand, nearly knocking over the glass of water I never got around to drinking. There it was. The ticket to his midnight show. Glossy and real and indisputable proof that I, Valerie Pedretti, professional nobody, had somehow captured the attention of the most famous man on the planet.

Equal parts giddy thrill and sheer pants-shitting terror. Good lord, what was I thinking, playing pattycake with Elvis freaking Presley? A very much married Elvis freaking Presley. I groaned into my pillow. I needed to call Deena pronto before having a complete meltdown.

The phone only rang twice before she picked up, voice fuzzy with sleep. "Val, hon, it's ass o'clock in the morning. This better be good—"

"Trust me, Dee, it is.” I took a deep breath, suddenly unsure of where to start. “I’m not coming home just yet. I’ve decided to extend my stay here for a little while.”

That woke her up. I could practically hear her sitting bolt upright in bed, her curiosity piqued. "Oh? You get a callback for that Sinatra gig?"

I hesitated, biting my lip. Fuck it, no use lying now.

“I maybe kind of sort of accidentally seduced a celebrity last night."

Dead. Silence. Then an earth-shattering shriek. "ARE YOU SERIOUS?!"

I winced, holding the receiver at arm's length. "Yep. I'm in deep doo-doo, Dee."

"Deep doo-doo?! More like the motherlode! Valerie, you little minx! How'd you manage a thing like that? I want every lurid detail. Emphasis on lurid."

I laughed, flopping back against the pillows. Leave it to Deena to skip straight to the good stuff. "I can't give you all the details yet. But let's just say he's someone we've both heard of. I'll give you three clues. Very famous, very talented, and very, very handsome."

And very married. I of course neglected that little tidbit. If Deena knew, she’d blow her top. Understandably so.

She made a sound like a teakettle boiling over. "You're killing me! You can't just drop a bombshell like that and not give me a name! Landing a whale like that..." She paused, thinking. "Wait... is it Sinatra? Dean Martin? Joey Bishop? Oh honey, please don’t tell me it’s Liberace. You know he doesn't go for—"

"Sorry, Dee, my lips are sealed," I said, trying for coy and mysterious but probably missing the mark by a country mile. "Loose lips sink ships and all that jazz. And I don’t wanna jinx this. I can’t be too... eager."

Deena huffed out an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, keep your secrets, you incorrigible tease. But I'm telling you, Val, when an opportunity like this falls into your lap, you gotta strike while the iron's hot, if you know what I mean."

I couldn't help it, I burst out laughing. "Why Deena Jane Lovelace, are you trying to corrupt me? I feel like I should be clutching my pearls."

"I’m serious Val, you deserve to let loose and have some fun for once in your life. Live a little! Sow some wild oats! Ride that stallion till you break the saddle!"

"Deena!" I mock-gasped, giggling like a loon. "You're terrible!"

"You mean I'm right," she shot back, a smile in her voice. "I know you. You've got a bad habit of getting in your own way when it comes to men. Always overthinking, always holding back. Always tying yourself down to some jerk who isn’t good enough for you..."

I stopped laughing and chewed my lip.

Deena's voice gentled. "Oh honey. Are you worried about that chump again? Because I will fly to Vegas and smack you upside the head myself. That boy is staler than last week's bread and you know it."

Oof. Andy.

In the midst of all the Elvis-induced giddiness, I'd almost forgotten about my on-again-off-again boyfriend. Luckily, right now we happened to be more off-again, which meant I was technically free to do whatever this was that I was doing.

Unbidden, an image of him popped into my head. Sweet, goofy, going-nowhere-fast Andy. If I squinted, his Arby's visor almost looked like a crown. Almost. Andy was... well, he was Andy. A burger-flipping, belch-ripping goofball who could always make me laugh, even when I wanted to strangle him. He was comfortable, familiar, uncomplicated. As exciting as a lukewarm bath.

She wasn't wrong. Ugh.

But Elvis… Elvis was pure electricity. He made me feel reckless, alive, like I could conquer the world in heels and a push-up bra. When a man like that looks at you like you're the only woman in the room, it does things to a girl. Things that don't involve overthinking or holding back.

Sensing my hesitation, Deena gentled her voice. "Look, I'm not saying you gotta marry the guy. But would it kill you to have a little fling? To let yourself get swept off your feet, even if it's just for a little while?"

I bit my lip, considering. Maybe Deena was right. Maybe it was time to stop being so buttoned-up and boring. To take a chance on something wild and wonderful, consequences be damned. I mean, when a choice between an Andy and an Elvis falls into your lap, you'd be six kinds of stupid not to go for the Elvis, right?

"Okay, okay, you've twisted my arm," I said at last, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt. "Operation Ride That Stallion is a go. But if I end up with saddle sores, I'm blaming you."

Deena's cackle was loud and wicked. "Atta girl! You just remember every gory detail so you can replay the highlight reel for me later. And Val?"

"Yeah, Dee?"

"Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do."

“But you’d do everything…”

“That’s my point!”

After promising to give her a full debriefing later, I hung up and started tearing through my suitcase. I needed to put together an outfit that wouldn't get me laughed out of the VIP section. What does Elvis like? I wondered as I pulled out everything I owned, frowning at my decidedly lacking duds. I'd have to go full Cinderella somehow—find some fairy godmother to zap me a gown, pronto.

But before I could do that, I had to at least shower. I spent the next few hours getting dolled up like my life depended on it. Which, considering who my "date" was with, it kinda did. I took my sweet time shaving, lotioning, spritzing myself with my best perfume. Just as I was about to return to the matter of what to wear, the doorbell rung.

I opened the door—only to pratfall over a fancy box from Suzy Creamcheese, the hottest boutique in town. What in the...

I snatched it up. There was a card taped to the top, my name scrawled across it in scratchy, masculine handwriting. My eyes widened as I scanned the short, devastating message.

"Songbird, let's make beautiful music together. Wear this tonight. I'll be the one in black. Yours, Jon Burrows"

Jon Burrows. The alias he'd used last night. Hoo boy. Hands shaking, I lifted the lid off the box and promptly forgot how to breathe.

Inside was a dress that probably cost more than my entire life savings. Glimmering, body-skimming, hotter than a fresh sin. Draped in hand beading and fashioned of the finest silk imaginable. The kind of outfit that would've given Deena an aneurysm if she knew who sent it. In all honesty, Elvis had probably bought a million dresses just like it for a million and one little chippies. Suddenly, my stomach hurt.

But I couldn’t help but notice, nestled right next to the dress, a pair of matching stilettos, the slim spike heels flashing like a dare.

Eh, maybe I could take a Tums.

The dress slid over my curves like liquid sin, the slinky fabric doing favors for my figure I didn't even know were possible.

I twirled in front of the mirror, admiring the way the hem flirted with my thighs. With my chestnut curls artfully tousled and my eyes rimmed in black, I hardly recognized the minx staring back at me. If Elvis's jaw didn't hit the floor when he saw me in this getup, I'd eat my hat.

Still, a niggle of guilt squirmed in my gut as I dabbed on a pat of lip gloss. I couldn't quite shake the feeling that I was pulling a fast one on Deena. She'd blow her top if she knew who I was really running off to see. Not because of the fame, of course, but because of the ring on his finger.

But then again, maybe it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. Especially when permission involved a certain married megastar. What Deena didn't know wouldn't hurt her, right?

Right. Confidence bolstered, I sashayed out the door.

With a little more than an hour to kill before the show, I tottered down to the casino floor, the click-clack of my stilettos drawing more than a few appraising glances.

Suddenly feeling lucky, I made a pit stop at the blackjack table. Nothing like a good old fashioned game of chance to settle the nerves. I was just doubling down when I noticed a guy giving me the hairy eyeball.

He looked to be in his fifties, paunchy and balding, with a pinky ring the size of a doorknob. A real high-roller type. And he was staring straight at me, a lewd grin stretching his thin lips.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing all by her lonesome?"

I shifted uncomfortably, wishing I'd worn a tent instead of a curve-hugging sheath. "Just playing a little cards before the big show," I muttered, looking everywhere but his face.

"Ah, you must be one of those Elvis girls," he said, nodding knowingly. "Fresh meat. Figures."

My stomach lurched. I was just opening my mouth to tell him where he could stick his fresh meat when a firm hand clamped down on my shoulder.

"Darlin', there you are! Been lookin' all over for you."

I whipped around to find a tall, gangly older man in a ten-gallon hat grinning down at me. He had a kind, pleasantly weathered face, the type of face you instantly trusted.

"Play along, sugar," he whispered, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Looked like you could use a white knight."

I almost collapsed with relief. "Oh! Yes, of course. So sorry, I got a little turned around..." I let him steer me away from the blackjack table, offering a silent prayer of thanks for chivalrous cowboys.

"Chick, at your service," he said once we were out of earshot, doffing an imaginary cap. "I’m with the International. And unless I miss my guess, you must be Miss Valerie?"

My eyes widened. "How did you...?"

Chick chuckled, shaking his head. "Let's just say, ah, Mr. Burrows ain't exactly subtle when he's sweet on a girl. I was instructed to find you and bring you to his dressing room before the show. Reckon that dress is gonna give him the vapors but good."

A pleased flush crept up my neck. Elvis had specifically summoned for me? Maybe this was more than a passing fancy to him. Maybe I wasn't just the flavor of the week...

No. Stop that. Don't go getting attached, you ninny. He's married, remember?

Chick must've noticed my wilting expression, because he gave my elbow a fatherly pat.

"Chin up, darlin'. I know this whole thing has you tied up in knots, but trust me—that boy thinks the sun rises and sets on your pretty little head. I ain't never seen him so gaga."

I managed a wobbly smile, even as my heart squeezed. Chick was sweet to say so, but he didn't know the half of it. Falling for Elvis was a one-way ticket to heartache city.

We snaked through a labyrinth of hallways and then reached the dressing room door. Chick gave a jaunty salute. "This is where I leave you. You take a deep breath and remember—if he’s foolish enough to let you slip through his fingers, I'll be waitin' in the wings to snatch you up my own self."

I giggled in spite of myself, some of the tension easing from my shoulders. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the rescue, Chick."

"Anytime, darlin'." With a last wink, he disappeared into the bowels of the theater, leaving me to find my seat on shaky legs.

I took a deep breath, smoothed my dress, and knocked on the door, my heart hammering in my throat. This was it. The moment of truth.

The door swung open, and there he was. Elvis, looking surprisingly human in a plain white collared shirt and black slacks. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at me, a genuine, almost shy thing that made my insides flutter. He looked oddly nervous, a far cry from the swaggering sex god I'd expected. It was strangely endearing.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite good luck charm!" he said, ushering me inside with a flourish. "Get in here, darlin', before someone sees you and starts a scandal. I can see the headlines now: 'Elvis Presley Corrupts Young Songstress, Film at Eleven.'"

I laughed, feeling some of my nervousness melt away in the face of his playful warmth. "I think you're overestimating my ability to cause a scandal," I said, plopping down on the couch. "The most exciting thing that's ever happened to me was winning a pie-eating contest when I was twelve."

Elvis clutched his heart, staggering back in mock-amazement. "Be still my beating heart! A pie-eating champion in my very dressing room? I'm not worthy!"

He dropped to his knees in front of me, clasping my hands in his. "Tell me, o great and powerful pie queen, what's your secret? Inquiring minds want to know!"

His antics were so unexpected, so at odds with his slick public persona, that I found myself relaxing in spite of the surreality of the situation. This was just Elvis. Just a man. A ridiculously handsome, heart-stoppingly talented man, but a man nonetheless.

We plopped down on the couch, close but not quite touching. Elvis ran a hand through his hair, tousling it even further. I giggled, swatting at him. "Stop it, you goof! You're going to make me ruin my mascara from laughing too hard."

Elvis grinned, unrepentant. "Can't have that, can we? I need you looking your absolute best out there tonight. Gotta show all those other fellas what they're missing." His appraising gaze was warm an appreciative as it swept over me. “And you do look beautiful, by the way. That dress is a knockout on you.”

I ducked my head, feeling a pleased flush creep up my neck. "You shouldn’t have, Elvis. I’m not used to such nice things.” I looked down, tapping my feet in the maroon stilettos he gifted me. Suddenly, I found myself saying things out loud I didn’t want to admit. “When I put it on, I was hoping you’d like me in it."

"Well, mission accomplished." Elvis's smile turned rueful. "Can I let you in on a little secret, Valerie?" he said, glancing at me sidelong. At my nod, he blew out a breath. "I'm nervous as all get-out about this show tonight. Like, shakin' in my boots nervous."

“You get stage fright?”

"That isn’t even the half of it," Elvis barked out a laugh, but there was an undercurrent of tension in it. "Honey, I'm about ready to shake out of my skin. I haven't played a venue this big in years, and I keep thinking I'm going to get out there and just... forget everything. Forget how to sing, forget how to move, forget my own damn name."

My heart squeezed at the very real fear in his voice. I scooted closer. "You? Nervous? But you've played hundreds of shows for thousands of people. You're a pro!"

He chuckled, but it sounded a little forced. "Yeah, well, that was before. Haven't exactly been doing a lotta live performing lately. Feels like I'm starting from scratch."

His knee started bouncing, fingers drumming a restless beat on his thigh. "Truth is, I keep thinkin' I'm gonna get out there and just... blank. Disappoint everyone. Forget all the words, miss all my cues. Make a damn fool of myself in front of everyone." His gaze cut to me, suddenly vulnerable. "In front of you."

Oh. Oh, Elvis.

"Hey," I said softly, daring to lay my hand over his. "You are not going to make a fool of yourself. You know how I know?"

His fingers curled around mine, warm and strong. "How?"

“Because I’ve seen you dance. Even if you forget the words, just do that little hips-swivel thing and no one will care what's coming out of your mouth."

Elvis stared at me for a beat, his brow furrowed, mouth hanging open. Then, like a dam bursting, he threw his head back and guffawed, the sound rich and unrestrained.

"Lordy, woman!" he managed between wheezing breaths, clutching his stomach. "You really are somethin' else, you know that?"

I grinned, inordinately pleased with myself for cracking him up. "I’m serious! Those things are lethal weapons."

He snorted, shaking his head. "You're a mess, girl. An absolute mess." But his eyes were soft, affectionate.

“No, for real. You’ll do great,” I said, giving his knee a squeeze. "The second you step out there and see all those adoring faces, all those people who love you... it's gonna click. You're gonna remember exactly who you are and why you do this."

Elvis stared at me for a long moment, something raw and vulnerable flickering in his eyes. "You really believe that, don't you?" he said quietly. "You really think I've still got it."

"I know you've still got it," I said firmly. "You're going to go out there and give the performance of a lifetime, and I'm going to be right there in the front row, cheering you on."

Elvis's throat worked as he swallowed hard, his eyes suspiciously bright. "What did I ever do to deserve a gal like you in my corner?" he wondered, shaking his head. "I must've been a saint in a past life."

"Well, I don't know about sainthood, but you definitely rocked a mean pair of blue suede shoes," I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

It worked. Elvis threw his head back and laughed, the rich, honeyed sound wrapping around me like an embrace.

"Aw, baby, you're just too much!" He grinned at me, wide and boyish and utterly charming. "Stick with me, kid, and I'll show you a thing or two about rocking more than just shoes."

I felt my cheeks heat at the implicit promise in his words. "I'm going to hold you to that, Mr. Presley."

"You better, Miss Pedretti."

Elvis glanced at the clock and sighed, some of the laughter fading from his eyes. "Guess I better start getting into my glad rags. Show's about to start, and I've got a whole lot of hearts to break."

I elbowed him playfully. He stood, hauling me up with him. "Walk me to the stage door?" he asked, a hint of vulnerability creeping back into his voice. "It'd mean a lot to have you there, sending me off."

I wanted to. With every fiber of my being, naturally. But good sense won out. “I don’t think it’s the best idea, Elvis. I’m sure there’ll be photographers and—”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Elvis sighed. “Good looking out.” There was a genuine sadness in his voice.

I squeezed his hand, holding his gaze. "I'll be with you every step of the way," I promised. "In spirit, if not in body."

Elvis lifted my hand to his mouth, grazing my knuckles with a kiss that sent sparks shooting up my arm. "Knowing that's going to make all the difference, honey. You'll be my guiding light out there."

I felt like I could happily drown in those bottomless blue eyes, spend the rest of my days mapping the planes and angles of that impossibly handsome face. Emboldened, I reached up to straighten his collar, letting my fingers linger on the warm, taut skin of his neck. Elvis growled, a low, throaty sound that reverberated through my bones. He tugged me closer, until I could feel the heat of him, smell the spicy, expensive scent of his cologne. "Y’know, I've half a mind to cancel this show and..."

My pulse kicked into overdrive, desire threading through me in hot, urgent pulses. It would be so easy to let him do just that, to surrender myself to the dark promise in his eyes, propriety and common sense be damned...

A sharp knock at the door shattered the charged silence, making me jump like a scared cat. Elvis muttered a curse, his fingers flexing on my hips.

"Thirty minutes to curtain, boss," a voice called through the door.

Elvis blew out a harsh breath, his eyes never leaving mine. "Guess that's my cue," he said ruefully. He leaned in, his lips grazing my ear. "To be continued. You can bet on that."

Then, with one last scorching look, he turned on his heel and strode out, leaving me weak-kneed and panting in his wake.

The house lights dimmed and the band struck up a familiar chord, and the audience went nuts. Shrieks and whistles drowned out the opening bars as a lone spotlight pierced the dark.

And there he was.

Elvis swaggered onstage in a black gi-style jumpsuit, his raven hair gleaming under the lights, guitar slung low around his chest. The crowd surged to its feet, but Elvis only had eyes for me. He caught my gaze and grinned, a private, knee-weakening thing that set every nerve ending aflame.

Sweet mercy. Maybe Chick hadn't been exaggerating after all.

The show was a dizzying carousel of hip-swiveling, high energy dancing, and electrifying eye contact. Elvis shimmied and crooned and thrust like his life depended on it, but every so often, he'd throw a smoldering glance my way, those bedroom eyes promising wicked, unspeakable things. The same eyes that looked over every inch of my body in his dressing room.

During "Love Me Tender," he changed one of the lyrics ever so slightly, singing "for my songbird" instead of "for my darling." It was so subtle, I almost thought I'd imagined it. But then he caught my eye and winked, and I nearly combusted on the spot.

I spent the whole show riding a knife's edge of exhilaration and anxiety, every cell in my body attuned to Elvis's sly overtures. He was flirting with me, signaling me, making it clear I was his girl of the moment. And Lord help me, I ate it up like a starving dog.

In the back of my mind, a niggling voice of reason piped up, sounding suspiciously like Deena. "He does this with all the girls, dummy. You aren’t special. He's MARRIED, remember?"

I told the voice to can it. For one night, I just wanted to pretend this was real, that Elvis's heated promises were mine and mine alone. That maybe he really did in fact like my company. Was that so wrong?

By the time Elvis launched into “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” I was thoroughly hot and bothered, my skin humming with anticipation. Elvis took his bows, blowing kisses and reaching out to the sea of grasping hands. My own hands were stinging from clapping so hard, my face aching from grinning like a fool. He'd done it. He'd absolutely slayed. This was it. If he asked me to, I was going to go all the way. I was so keyed up, I barely noticed Joe until he materialized at my elbow, grinning like a fox in the henhouse.

Giddy and practically vibrating out of my skin, I let myself be ushered to Elvis’ suite by a cadre of burly security guards. It was already packed to the gills, a whirlwind of chatter and clinking glasses and backslapping laughter.

I recognized some of the faces from my earlier introduction to Elvis's inner circle—Red and Sonny and all the others from the Memphis Mafia, Colonel Parker looking like the cat who ate the canary, a gaggle of International execs in expensive suits. But there were plenty of new players too—starlets and hangers-on and a surprising number of little old ladies in their Sunday best, clutching Elvis albums to their heaving bosoms.

I felt a moment of panic, a minnow swimming with sharks, but then Jerry caught my eye across the room and waved me over with a wink.

"There she is!" he crowed, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "Didn't our boy knock 'em dead tonight?"

I grinned up at him, letting his easy camaraderie settle my nerves. "He sure did. I've never seen anything like it. I thought that one gal in the front row was gonna faint when he smiled at her."

"Aw, that ain't nothing!" Red chimed in, swiping a flute of champagne off a passing tray. "Back in '56, we had girls dropping like flies every time he so much as moved a finger. Quite a time to be alive, let me tell you!"

We laughed and joked and traded Elvis stories, the boys folding me into their ranks like I'd always been there. It was a heady feeling, being on the inside of something so exclusive, so legendary. Even if it was just for one night.

Speaking of the man himself, Elvis was holding court on the other side of the room, surrounded by a gaggle of suits and coiffed heads. He caught my eye over their shoulders and shot me a wink, his grin electric even from a distance.

I felt that zip of connection like a physical touch, and had to duck my head to hide my flush. Good grief, the man could spark a fire in my belly from clear across a crowded room. I was in trouble.

As if drawn by some invisible thread, I drifted towards him, skirting the edges of his adoring throng. I didn't want to interrupt, but I couldn't quite keep away either.

I was just debating the merits of "accidentally" bumping into him when I felt a gnarled hand clamp onto my wrist. I turned to find myself nose to nose with a diminutive old woman in a pink pillbox hat, her rheumy eyes squinting up at me.

"Priscilla, dear, is that you?" she cooed, her voice warbling with age. "Oh, honey, I just have to tell you how much I admire you! The way you've stood by your man all these years, through thick and thin... it's an inspiration to us all!"

My stomach plummeted. She thought I was Elvis's wife. His very real, very married wife.

"Oh, no, I'm not—" I stammered, my face heating. But she was already barreling on, clutching my hand in her paper-dry grip.

"You know, my Albert and I have been married for 53 years, and I like to think we've weathered our share of storms. But you and Elvis, bless your hearts, you've been through the wringer and back! The army, those awful Hollywood starlets, all those months on the road... it's a wonder you've made it work as well as you have!"

I opened my mouth, desperate to correct her, to distance myself from the comparison. But something in her earnest, careworn face stopped me. Who was I to shatter her illusions? What harm was there in letting her believe, just for a moment, that I was his dutiful wife?

So I simply smiled and patted her hand, murmuring something about the power of commitment. She beamed at me, misty-eyed, and tottered off to accost someone else with her marital wisdom.

I sagged against the wall, feeling vaguely guilty. Borrowing Priscilla's halo, even for a few minutes, left a sour taste in my mouth. What kind of person was I, playacting at being Elvis's devoted wife when the real deal was at home, probably wondering where her husband was and who he was with? And why wasn’t she here on opening night, anyway?

Suddenly, the dressing room felt too hot, too close. I needed air. I needed space. I needed...

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you, Valley cat."

I turned to find Elvis striding towards me, his face alight with post-show elation. His jacket was gone, his shirt half-unbuttoned, his hair damp with sweat. He looked utterly edible.

I pasted on a smile, trying to shake off my guilt like a dog shedding water. This was supposed to be a magical night, remember? My one chance to live like a star, to be Elvis's girl, if only in the shadows.

"Hey," I said, hoping my voice didn't betray my inner turmoil. "If it isn't the man of the hour himself. I'd ask how it feels to kill it, but something tells me you already know."

He laughed, low and throaty, and caught my hand in his. My pulse leapt at the casual intimacy of the gesture. "Careful with the compliments, hon, or my head won't fit through the door. Then where would we be?"

"Oh, I'm not worried," I shot back, finding my footing again. "If your head gets too big, I'll just deflate it with a few choice pinpricks. I'm handy like that."

"A real Jill of all trades, aren't ya?" he drawled, tugging me closer. I stumbled a bit, thrown by his nearness, the play of muscle beneath his shirt as he steadied me with hands on my hips.

His eyes danced with mischief and something hotter, headier. "Stick around long enough and maybe you'll get to show me just how handy you can be."

Oh. Oh my. Was he implying...

Before I could parse his words, he leaned in close, his lips a hairsbreadth from my ear. "The fellas are gonna clear out the stragglers. Why don't you hang back a while, keep me company?"

My pulse thudded heavy in my throat. "O-okay," I murmured, cursing my stammer. "If you're sure I won't be imposing..."

He pulled back just far enough to meet my eyes, something softening in his gaze. "Valerie, trust me. There is nowhere else I'd rather be than right here with you. Okay?"

I nodded shakily, thunderstruck by his sincerity.

The next hour passed in a whirlwind of farewells and a few more furtive winks from Elvis as he played gracious host. The stragglers trickled out in twos and threes, some of the drunker ones being gently but firmly escorted by bulky security guards. Soon, it was just Elvis, the core crew, and me.

I perched on the arm of a velvet sofa, trying to blend into the scenery as the guys swapped tour stories and ribbed each other mercilessly. Elvis, sprawled in an adjacent chair with a tumbler of something amber and expensive, kept sneaking me these scorching sidelong glances that made me feel like I was the only girl in the room. Maybe the only girl in the world.

Eventually, Red gave a jaw-cracking yawn and hoisted himself up off the couch. "Welp, I'm about ready to hit the hay. These old bones ain't what they used to be." He shot Elvis a significant look. "Reckon y'all got things handled in here?"

Elvis's lips twitched, his eyes never leaving mine. "Yeah, man. I think we're good. Y'all head on to bed now. Me and Valerie here will just... clean up a bit."

There was a loaded pause, a crackle of unspoken communication between them. Then, with a chorus of goodnights and a few winks sent my way, the guys filed out.

And then there were two.

Elvis drained his glass and set it aside, unfolding from his chair like a jungle cat waking from a nap. All coiled grace and barely restrained power. I tracked his approach with my heart in my throat, my skin prickling with anticipation.

He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could smell his cologne, the warm musk of his skin beneath the sharper tang of sweat. Close enough to touch.

He held out a hand, eyes molten in the low light. "C'mon, darlin'. Let's go somewhere a little more private, hmm?"

I slid my hand into his, letting him tug me to my feet and into the circle of his arms. I had to tip my head back to meet his gaze, my hands braced on the solid wall of his chest.

"Private sounds perfect," I breathed. "Lead the way."

His grin flashed, sharp and white in the dimness. He laced his fingers through mine and led me through a side door I hadn't even noticed, into a wood-paneled hallway lined with identical doors.

We stopped in front of one. Elvis produced a key from his pocket and unlocked it, gesturing for me to precede him. I stepped inside and stopped short, blinking in the sudden brightness. It was a suite, as lushly appointed as any I'd seen—all plush carpets and gleaming dark wood and what looked suspiciously like a gilded ceiling.

In the center of the room, a table had been set with a crisp white cloth, gleaming silver, a bottle of champagne sweating gently in a gilded ice bucket. Two place settings. Candles.

My heart did a funny little flip. He'd planned this. Planned a private, romantic dinner for two. For us.

I turned to him, stunned. "Elvis, this is... I mean, you didn't have to go to all this trouble..."

He shrugged, looking almost bashful. "It wasn't any trouble. I just thought it'd be nice to have some time, just you and me. No screaming crowds, no prying eyes." His mouth quirked. "Plus, I figured you'd probably be starving after all that excitement. I know I am."

As if on cue, my stomach rumbled loudly. We both looked down at it, then at each other, and promptly burst out laughing.

"Well, I reckon that's my answer!" Elvis wheezed, clutching his side. "C'mon, let's feed that beast before it stages a revolt."

Still snickering, he pulled out my chair with a flourish. I sank into it, expecting him to ring for room service, or maybe a harried-looking assistant to come scurrying out with silver platters.

But no. To my shocked delight, Elvis ducked into the adjoining kitchenette and returned with... a greasy paper sack?

At my raised eyebrow, he grinned. "What, did you think it'd be all caviar and champagne? Nah, that ain't my style."

He upended the sack, sending a cascade of foil-wrapped burgers and fries skittering across the fine china. The commingled scents of grease and salt and ketchup wafted up to me, and my mouth instantly watered.

"I sent Sonny out for these," Elvis said, sliding into the seat across from me. "Knew I'd be craving some post-show grease. And I figured, what's better than sharing a little taste of home with my songbird?"

Songbird. Oh. There were those damned butterflies again.

"You figured right," I managed, plucking up a fry. "There's nothing better than burgers after midnight. Although..." I squinted at the foil peeking out from beneath a sesame bun. "Is that... peanut butter?"

He flashed me a guilty grin. "Ah, you caught me. Peanut butter and bacon. A little trick I picked up in the army. It sounds crazy, but trust me, it's a revelation."

We dug into our burgers, the silence broken only by appreciative moans and the rustling of wrappers. I had to admit, the combination of peanut butter and bacon was strangely appealing. Not that I'd ever tell Elvis that. His ego was healthy enough as it was.

"So," I said, dabbing a bit of ketchup from my chin. "You were in the army?"

Elvis paused mid-bite, his eyes widening slightly. He swallowed, setting his burger down. "You really didn’t know?"

“Well,” I said, chewing carefully. “I, uh. How do I say this? I never really followed you that closely. I mean, of course, I know your music and all. But the details of your life? I didn't want to pry.”

He stared at me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face.

"Hey, what’s so funny?”

“You mean to tell me I found the only girl around who doesn’t already know everything about me?”

I felt my cheeks heat. "What do you mean?"

He leaned back in his chair, studying me with a newfound intensity. "I mean, you're the first girl I've met in a long time who hasn't tried to impress me with how much she knows about me. Who hasn't been hanging on my every word, ready to agree with whatever I say just to get in my good graces."

I blinked, taken aback. "Really? That's... that's kind of sad, actually."

"Sad?" He cocked his head, curious. "How so?"

I waved a hand, trying to find the right words. "I just mean... you're a person. A real, flesh and blood man with thoughts and feelings and experiences that go beyond what the magazines print. It's sad that so few people seem to want to get to know that side of you. The real you." I paused, considering whether or not to continue. “It must be really weird meeting new people and feeling like they already know everything about you.”

“Well, what they think they know at least.” His expression softened, something warm and vulnerable stealing into his gaze. "You really mean that, don't you? You actually want to know me. Not Elvis the star, but just... Elvis."

"‘Course I do," I said softly. "You think I’d be eating burgers at 4 am with just anybody I meet? I promise you I am not that kind of girl,” I winked.

As our appetites gave way to pleasant, sleepy fullness, our conversation turned to lighter things—favorite movies (his: The Way of All Flesh, mine: anything historical), craziest fan encounters (had to give it to Elvis on that one, though my tale of a particularly persistent flasher in Boise nearly made him snort soda out of his nose), best practical jokes played on unsuspecting bandmates (we were both particularly proud of our skills with a whoopee cushion).

We grinned at each other, the air between us crackling with something warm and bright. I felt like I could happily drown in those bottomless blue eyes, spend the rest of my days mapping the planes and angles of that impossibly handsome face.

But as the laughter died down and the food dwindled to crumbs, a tension crept into the air between us. An unspoken question, hovering like a ghost at the table.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "Elvis, I... I have to ask. And feel free to tell me to mind my own business, but... what about your wife?"

He stiffened, his jaw tightening. For a moment, I thought he might shut down, might retreat behind the impenetrable wall of his public persona.

But then he sighed, his shoulders slumping as if under a great weight. "Priscilla and I... it's complicated."

I bit my lip, my stomach knotting. "You still love her?"

A long, heavy beat of silence. Then, softly: "I'll always care for Priscilla. She's been a part of my life for a long time. But love?" He shook his head, his eyes distant. "No. I don't think I do. Not anymore."

My breath caught, hope and trepidation warring in my chest. "What happened?"

He scrubbed a hand over his face, looking suddenly exhausted. "We grew apart. Wanted different things. For a while now, we've been living separate lives, barely even speaking except when necessary. I think we both know it's over. That it has been for a long time."

I reached out, covering his hand with my own. "Elvis, I'm so sorry. That must be incredibly painful."

He turned his hand over, lacing his fingers through mine. "It was, at first. But now? Now it just feels... inevitable. Like we were always meant to end up here, no matter how hard we tried to make it work."

As the night wore on and the conversation lulled, I felt my eyelids growing heavy. A glance at the clock told me it was just before six in the morning. Stifling a yawn, I turned to Elvis. "I hate to say it, but I think I should be heading back to my room. It's been an amazing night."

Elvis reached over and took my hand, his eyes searching mine. "Will you come back tomorrow? I feel like we've barely scratched the surface. There's so much more I want to talk to you about."

I smiled, my heart fluttering at the thought of spending more time with him. "I'd love to."

"Great. How about—"

I held up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. "Why don't you call me and invite me? Properly, I mean."

His lip curled in amusement, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Etiquette, huh? Alright, I'll play by your rules. I'll call you tomorrow night, say, around five-thirty? Room 2806, right?"

I nodded, unable to suppress my grin. "I'll be waiting."

"Lamar," Elvis called out. "Would you be so kind as to walk Valerie back to her room?"

With a final squeeze of my hand and a promise to call, Elvis bid me goodnight.

The next day seemed to drag on forever. I couldn't bring myself to leave my room, afraid I might miss his call if I stepped out even for a moment. As five-thirty approached, my nerves were wound tighter than a coiled spring. When the phone finally rang, I took a deep breath before picking up the receiver.

"Hello?" I answered, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Could I please speak with Valerie?" The unmistakable drawl sent my pulse racing.

I couldn't resist playing coy. "Who is this?"

"Elvis."

"Elvis who?"

There was a beat of silence, followed by a low chuckle. "You're a bonehead."

The playful exchange was just what I needed to ease my nerves. Elvis proceeded to explain the arrangements he'd made—a ticket for the late show and another dinner together afterward. I hung up the phone, my heart soaring with anticipation.

Maybe staying in Vegas a little while longer wasn't such a bad idea after all.

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#elvis presley #elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis fans #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis x oc #elvis fic #songbird

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tieronecrush · 11 months

Note

Hi! I loved water in your hands even though I accidentally read part 2 first 😩, can I please request a little drabble from readers pov when Joel just cut her off and missing work etc when he got married? No worries if not! Just wanted to say I really enjoyed reading :)

well thank you anyways for returning to read part 1!!! and i am so happy that you enjoyed reading!

i’m not sure if you checked out the playlist for the series that i made (spotify / apple music), but liability by lorde made it on there because it is literally what i imagined reader would feel during that time. my hopeless romantic who has never felt chosen </3

liability

drabble for “water in your hands” series

rating: M

word count: 1.2k

summary:

They say, "You're a little much for me / You're a liability / You're a little much for me" / So they pull back, make other plans ' I understand, I'm a liability / Get you wild, make you leave

warnings: angst, insecurity, self doubt, mentions of water/drowning

You didn’t even have any last words from him to mull over. The last thing you’d heard from him was him asking if you were okay as you lay next to him in the middle of that field.

Instead, his silence has sharpened the knife that he’s driven into your heart, his lack of acknowledgment of everything that happened twisting it to carve out a large space for the pain to seep in. And when you’d heard that he was dating someone else, seriously dating, according to Tommy, the knife was pulled clean out and stabbed into your back.

He’d spent one night with you, and somehow that was enough for him to know that he didn’t want you. All of those messages you thought he’d sent now mixed, your recollections of those fleeting, flirty moments poisoned by the knowledge that he didn’t want to be pulled into your storm.

It was the only reason you could think of that maybe drove him away. You knew that you weren’t settled, that you had your own issues to grapple with from everything you’d been through prior to Jackson, but you were secure in yourself. Maybe Joel didn’t want to deal with your shit on top of his own.

You were a little too much for him; a liability to his own healing.

You were on your own at the end of the day, superficial friendships and mere acquaintances belonging in the daylight. The only seemingly real friendship that you’d grown here was with his brother, and the saying goes “blood is thicker than water.”

Returning to a lonely house, yellowy lamplight bathing your space but doing nothing to warm your insides. You spent nights on your own, re-reading your favorite novels from the worn shelves in your cozy living room or spinning a record to dance around and forget for a few minutes. In those times, you were thankful that you were still looking out for yourself, that you still had your own back despite all of the doubt your own mind had grown.

In those solitary hours, all you had were your thoughts, which revolved around him, throwing you into a cyclical whirlpool of heartache. Only when you thought you’d pulled yourself out, had finally felt the heat of the sun on your face above the surface, one single memory of his fingers brushing your thigh or his lips ghosting over yours or a whisper of your name rips you right back into the current.

He left you behind and moved on.

Dating someone else, ignoring you for days that turned into weeks, that’s now become months.

You remember the day you found out that they were engaged.

It happened at the end of your shift, your coworker Tracy popping in to have a nightcap. She was tipsy already, spilling where she had been prior to coming to the bar. There was a party at Tommy and Maria’s, she’d said, a wide drunken smile on her face as she excitedly gossiped.

“They threw Joel and Heather an engagement party! How sweet is that?”

Engagement? Engagement. Engagement.

Engagement led to marriage.

Marriage was meant to be for life.

And Joel never does anything half-assed.

One time, a few weeks after Joel had returned to Jackson, you’d let yourself daydream indulgently. It’d been about him, about what you envisioned a life with him would look like. You’d pictured your own wedding, the closest people to you both the only ones in attendance. In your imagination, you’d seen your brother there, your sister, too.

It was a dream because, even if you ended up with Joel, you never thought he would get married. He was loyal, devoted, committed no matter what jewelry was on your fingers. Those traits were intrinsic to him. You didn’t think something like that mattered to him; he would be a husband, a partner to you without any ceremony.

Clearly, you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did.

Their engagement was fast. You’d heard from Tommy about a month later that the wedding was happening at the weekend. Bile coated your throat, burning acid settling there for the rest of the afternoon that you spent at work. You’d returned home that evening, crawling into bed and crying yourself completely dry and numb.

You didn’t leave that spot for days. Skipped out on work. Ignored the knocks at your door from Tracy, Maria, even Tommy. Limbs felt too heavy to move, bones ached deeply, dull pain sawed at your constricted heart.

Thoughts kept steamrolling each other, your brain was unable to shut them out as you spiraled silently alone.

A toy. A plaything. A little doll.

An achievement to be conquered.

He’d played with you; bantered with you. He was flirty -- suggestive at times. But once you’d given him everything, unveiled your thoughts and feelings to him in hopes of him returning them, even just accepting them, he’d gotten bored. There was no more chase. You’d rolled over like prey, submitting to anything he could have wanted from you.

You were only exciting to seek in the night, ghostly touches in the bar and a chance encounter under the moonlight.

Naive. Childish. Too much.

Delusions of a perfect summer with Joel changing with the leaves and eventually becoming rooted together had blinded you from his true intentions with you.

You were better off on your own, so it seemed the universe was telling you. Losing your siblings, your family, lacking friendships, and now your prospect for love slipped through your fingers in a rush, fleeting efforts made to contain it like water in your hands. No matter what, it would have found cracks to drip through, and eventually drained completely.

He evaded you, leaving you in an unrequited romance. You were in love with him. And now he was married to someone else, in love with someone that he could easily be with no disadvantage or opportunity for embarrassment. There were no means to confess your found feelings, so you lay for hours in your bed while tears soak your pillow and words are branded into your mind.

I’m in love with Joel Miller, and he won’t ever love me.

You repeated it so many times that it sounded like the truth, like gospel, and then, at a certain point, like a foreign language. The words eventually meant nothing in their countless repetitions, the weight of your self-confessional lessening with each second passing. Your limbs felt lighter, bones less sore, and the grip of pain on your heart loosened.

In the next moment, all you could think about was feeling the warm summer air on your face again. Finally, after days isolated, you were going to take a chance to disappear into the sun. You’d pulled yourself out of bed, changing into fresh clothes.

With one glance out of your window, the plans were soured when you saw it was sunset, that you’d have to wait until morning for your walk in the light. You decided to stay up all night to be able to catch the sunrise in the grazing field. To occupy yourself, you milled about your kitchen and living room, doing the small pile of dishes that had accumulated and straightening up the place. The clock on your wall read the early hours of the morning, and with no other chores to do, you turned towards your collection of books.

As you thumb through your shelves to find another novel to escape into for a few hours, the sound of knuckles lightly rapped on your door.

tagging the usual mutuals: @swiftispunk @joelsversion @johnwatsn @midnightswithdearkatytspb @pedrit0-pascalit0 @theelishad @undrthelights @ladamedusoif @ruinedbylanadelrey @thetriumphantpanda @pedgeitopascal @dinsdjrn @thepascalofus @pedgito @soaringcloud @somedayauthor @alloftheimagines @pr0ximamidnight @beskarandblasters @atinylittlepain @scrambledslut @lunapascal

#joel #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x yn #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tw insecurity #tw self doubt #me #writing #requests

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capricorn-writer-kawaii · 9 months

Text

That Night in the Hot Springs

Chapter 1/3

Pairing: Enji Todoroki x Reader

Genre: Enji Todoroki X Reader, ⚠️smut⚠️, fluff, angst, age difference, divorced Endeavor, ⚠️anime spoilers⚠️

Words: 2k

Summary: A divorced and hard-working Endeavor allows himself to lose his composure at the desire he feels for his young colleague. Yet, the flame hero did not count on the fact that what seemed to be just one wild night stand in a hot spring would lead him to fall madly in love.

A/N: This idea just kept popping up in my mind. In the end, it came out longer than expected, my bad, but if it's about Enji being soft and in love, I couldn't help but write a little more. Also, I was very excited to write about Endeavor after his wonderful character development. Why not give him a second chance?

Chapter 1 – Don’t play with fire, kid

Being alone with your boss was your favorite moment of the day because you can actually see him, not his heroic facade. Once the doors of his office were closed, Enji Todoroki freed himself from the pressure of being the number one hero, a task that not even himself was sure to be able to do it. All Might’s ghost will always haunt him. It had been a few years since All Might retirement and that fierce fight against Hood, the High-End Nomu. Moreover, Dabi's transmission had left serious consequences on how society perceived the flame hero. Yet, Endeavor's efforts to be a better person did not go unnoticed by everyone, earning not only the respect but also the affection of many, you included.

All his concerns disappeared when you were at your knees and with your mouth on his length. It has huge, it didn’t matter how many times you were together, Enji’s size always amazed you. Even so, you liked him so much that your body was always ready for him, even in moments when you weren’t supposed to feel turned on by him, you were. Maybe it was because he failed to hide it too.

The attraction he felt over you led him to gawk at you when you were working together. Seeing you in your costume drove him crazy. Why did you have to choose a design like that? He asked every time you walked in front of him. Why so stretch? Why did HE have to be like that?

He had never acted in such way, he was always so focused on his duties that he barely paid attention to other heroes until Hawks had that stupid idea of bringing you to Endeavor's agency. But how could he deny it? You were gifted, your quirk worked so well with his that it would be a waste not to accept you in his agency. Though, things escalated quickly from the moment he noticed how merciless with criminals you were. He couldn’t understand how you were the same person who laughed at Hawk’s lame jokes. In battles, you were fierce, you attacked with such spirit that you managed to take his breath away, but on your regular basis, you were so kind and lovely.

You shook his ground when Endeavor discovered your talent and witnessed your braveness. He had already been divorced for years but it was the first time he really fell for someone. However, Enji wasn’t willing to accept it because you were way younger than him, you were barely in your late 20s.

What the hell was wrong with him? He asked when he found himself getting a boner once during a battle, he helped you from falling from a building. Yet, when he caught you, he grabbed your ass and you automatically place your hands on his wide neck while his name was pronounced by your mouth. It sounded so sexy, especially being that close, that he almost lost concentration and hit another building.

From that day, he tried to behave as the respectful and serious man he had always been; thus, he tried not to work that often with you. However, he couldn’t deny your talent and Hawks started to question him why you weren’t working anymore with them in the most complicated cases.

“She’s amazing! Are you afraid she could get hurt?” Hawks asked while coming back from work.

“Stop questioning me.” Endeavor ordered with a tone that would make any other person cry, but Hawks was so used to it, that he didn’t even flinch, especially not after both heroes were coming from having some drinks together.

“At least consider it, if she helps us, we can solve more cases. You’re swamped with work now that you’re the number one hero. We can use a hand if you’re planning to keep that title.”

Endeavor kept silent as he listened and realized he actually needed your help. The next day, you were under his wing again. You and Hawks will work next to him, at least for some time, or that was his initial idea. But who did he want to fool? You were amazing, just as he already knew and as Hawks had said.

Besides, you were so professional and so responsible that in a matter of days, Endeavor was again eating from your hand, totally thankful for having you on his team.

If his temper was already difficult to handle, it got worse every time he caught Hawks flirting with you. The worst part was that he knew it was just the normal thing, you guys had similar ages, you were friends, and you hung up a lot together. It was normal to think that there was some kind of attraction; yet, he couldn’t be more wrong. You had a crush, for sure, you were head over hills for someone, but not for Hawks! For your boss! However, he was out of your reach, there was no way you would tell him or even think about acting on it. No matter how many times you were alone with him in his office, or all the lunches and dinners you had with him and Hawks, not even the numerous nights he offered to drop you home.

Not until that day…

“I’m so happy we can finally have some free time!” Hawks said as he, Endeavor, and you walked towards some hot springs.

“We should get back sooner now that he…”

“No! Please, Endeavor! You promised us we could use the hot springs if we finished on time, and we did it!” You said, causing him to sight, he knew he was already defeated the moment you used those puppy eyes on him.

Some minutes later, you took a different path from them and found your pond. After demanding so much of your body during the mission, it felt amazing just to chill in the water.

From where you were you could hear Hawks and Endeavor’s voices through the wall stone that separated your pond from theirs. You giggled hearing Hawks begging Endeavor to warm just a little bit more the water. The flame hero had no interest in doing what his right hand asked; yet, he preferred warming the water than continuing listening to the young hero asking for the same.

“That’s what I was talking about! Thank you, boss!” Hawks said while he closed his eyes enjoying the warmth. “Hey, hottie! How’s everything over there? Feeling nice already?”

Endeavor groaned hearing that annoying way of calling you. He had already said to Hawks to stop being so disrespectful; however, your answer did not allow the hero to scold Hawks, for your soft and sexy moan just took his breath away.

“It felts great, thanks for warming the water, Endeavor.” You replied, getting no answer from the pro, who was silent not only because of your hot moan but because he was thinking that maybe you didn’t mind Hawks’ comments because something was going on between you two.

Some time passed in which the three of you stayed there enjoying the night, allowing yourselves to forget your worries and to submerge your anxieties in those warm waters. But it was not the only thing you did. While you kept thinking that the man who drove you crazy was just a few steps away taking a bath, the redhead thought the same. It had been the heat coming from his body that had made you moan.

The three of you got so carried away with your thoughts that Endeavor didn't even listen when Hawks apologized and said goodbye. He needed to get some sleep or exhaustion would make him fall asleep in the water.

"Precious, are you coming with me?" The young hero asked causing his boss to feel his blood boil.

However, you rejected his offer, you wanted to enjoy the hot springs for a while longer, or at least that's what you said, what you really wanted was to be alone with your boss, even if you were in different ponds.

Endeavor chose to stay as well, even though he didn't want to accept why he did. For a while there was silence, which wasn't entirely strange, since the ones who used to talk were you and Hawks, Enji was usually silent, and if he spoke, it was to give orders or scold Hawks. Nevertheless, although many people judged him as a cruel man, his two pupils knew that it was not entirely true, he cared for them in his own way. Starting with the missions, no wonder why he was on top of all heroes, for he was capable of controlling any situation without taking his eyes off you, always making sure you and Hawks were safe.

"How's your leg, kid?" He asked you after a while.

"Can't complain, I can move it now."

“Be more careful. If Hawks hadn't helped you, you'd have fractured it."

"Yes, sir" The hero sighed, he didn't like to hear that word so much, especially not coming from you.

He was your superior, that was true, but a little closeness and trust wouldn't hurt either. Had all of his attempts to be a little more approachable not worked even with his closest subordinates?

A little more time passed and the night was getting colder. Not even the heat from the hot springs was enough. Endeavor hadn't noticed the temperature change, as his body always harbored some heat, but for you, it was just impossible to stay there.

The way back to where you were going to sleep passed right by the pool where Hawks and Endeavor had taken a bath, so you would have to pass in front of your boss wearing only a towel. All thanks to Hawks and his stupid pranks, since he had taken your clothes.

When the flame hero heard your footsteps, he looked up. He didn't expect to see you in a towel, however, it was the most sensual image he had seen in his life. Your hair drenched in your bare shoulders, your breasts protruding from that little white, almost transparent towel, and then, your long and naked legs. It was impossible for him not to react to that sight, not to start getting hard. He tried to stop looking at you and focus on something else, like he always did, but this time he took a little more time and you noticed, the leering look from your boss couldn't just be a product of your imagination.

"You're leaving?" he asked without looking at you.

"It's very cold and Hawks took my clothes."

"What? That idiot did what?" As prone to anger as ever, Endeavor forgot why he'd averted his gaze from you and even rose to his feet, forgetting that his erection was already somewhat noticeable.

"It's okay, I'm used to..." You quit talking when you felt a few drops falling on your face. Immediately, you both looked up and noticed that it was starting to rain.

Once you looked at him again, you surely forgot how to talk. If he had been impressed looking at you, your jaw just dropped. The number one hero's body was huge and muscular. There was not a single part of his body that was not trained. It was not just an athletic body, the head of the Todoroki family was a mountain of muscle, and despite the years passing by, his body refused to show any sign of weakness. His body was too tense and fit for age to do its thing; on the contrary, years only made him more attractive, more manly.

If Enji's physique was already breathtaking, the way he looked at that moment left you even more fascinated by him than before. Due to the cold drops of rain and the heat from the hero's body, his skin emanated steam. Also, the striking turquoise hue of his eyes contrasted with the dark red of his hair now that it was wet.

"Come on, I'll walk you." He said, adjusting his towel, since it barely covered what was necessary.

How could you miss such an opportunity? When else would you be alone with that man and in those conditions? No… you had to do something, you had to act. You suspected that you awakened something in your boss because no matter how hard he tried to hide it, there were times when he couldn't and the way he looked at you screamed that he wanted you.

"I don't want to go back yet."

"But you just said you were leaving, and it's raining."

“I don't mind the rain. Can you warm the water a bit more?” You asked approaching him and as you did, the knot in your towel was loosening, already sliding over your breasts, and you barely had time to hold it so as not to be completely naked. "Please, Endeavor." You asked while making sure your generous breasts brushed his body.

Even though the towel didn't fall all the way, Endeavor was able to glimpse at the rounded shape of your breasts and that was enough of a temptation for his head to wander back to how much he wanted to drop his hero role, rip off that towel and make you scream his name.

The redhead noticed how obvious he was making, as well as the boner that could not be hidden in any way. So, clearing his throat, he tried to look at the water and take some distance.

"Fine, I'm going to heat the water." He responded by trying to get closer to the well, but as he brushed past you, you stopped him by grabbing his wrist.

The hero's turquoise eyes looked at you, warning you not to play with him, but at the same time, they burned with desire. The fire that torched in him with you so close was far more intense than he could bear.

"Why do you avoid me so much?" You questioned sliding your soft hand over his massive bicep.

"Look, kid..."

Enji was respectful, especially since you were colleagues, but he was definitely not a man to be trifled with. He was not shy, and his short patience had already reached its limit.

"No, you look." Even more determined than him and acting before, you released the knot of the towel and in a second it had already fallen at his feet. "Was this what you wanted to see?"

"You know what you're provoking, right?" He asked gently holding your chin, which allowed him to appreciate how you nodded while licking your lips.

The hero wasted no more time and lowering his gaze devoured your body, he admired every inch of it, every part that he longed to see so many times but had not been able to. It was even more beautiful than he had imagined; besides, your hard nipples screamed how turned on you got by his side. Suddenly, the enormous and rough hands of the hero grabbed your ass and lifted you, now you two were at the same height.

"What about Hawks?" His breathing showed how aroused he was and how difficult it was for him to keep those last few seconds of sanity.

"Hawks?" You asked letting yourself be enveloped by the steam that emanated from your boss's skin, caressing his huge shoulders and discovering how covered they were by freckles and scars. Under other circumstances you would have explained to him that nothing was going on between you and Hawks; however, feeling Endeavor's huge cock throbbing so close to your entrance made it impossible for you to say many words, so you barely managed to shake your head negatively. "We're just friends."

🔥Next chapter🔥

#bnha #my hero academia #mha x reader #my hero academia imagines #my hero academia scenarios #my hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero acedamia #enji todoroki #endeavor #todoroki family #mha hawks #endeavor x reader #endeavor smut #endeavor mha #endeavor bnha #mha todoroki #keigo takami

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enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog · 5 months

Text

~The Best Of Intentions ~

**Smut with plot ahead. Ye be warned.

Chapter 17

Thorin woke only when the rays of the late morning sun caressed his face. He breathed in deeply, and a glorious scent hit his nose as something tickled his face. The fog of heavy sleep fled as he realized it was Mistlynn's warm scent of cinnamon laced with vanilla. He grinned sleepily as the previous night flashed through his mind.

She was tucked up tight against him, her head resting on his chest with her legs tangled in his. His arm was wrapped around her, his other hand splayed out on the soft skin of her bared hip. He leaned his face down, burying himself into her wild curls, savoring her scent and closeness as his arm tightened around her while pulling her closer to him.

Mistlynn let out a dreamy sigh, raising her knee so that she grazed his morning erection. He could not help but groan lowly at her from the contact, prompting a sleepy giggle to bubble from her lips.

"Mmhhhmm good morning, Yasun." She purred into his chest as her fingers traced a trail from his abs, past his chest and up his neck.

"Minx." He growled playfully into her ear before nipping her earlobe, prompting a squeal from her much to his delight. He skillfully pinned her beneath him as she giggled and tried to squirm out from underneath him. "And where do you think you're going." He breathed huskily into her neck as he started to tease her neck with his mouth.

Her eyes nearly fluttered shut at the intoxicating feeling of him lavishing her with his lips and tongue, but the moment was soon lost when his hand brushed down to the side of her ribcage and he started to tickle her. She gasped and squealed as she fought against him. She wrapped her legs around his middle and quickly flipped him on to his back, leaving her to straddle him victoriously.

He was laughing with a carefree smile on his face as he looked up at her through hooded eyes. The sight of her straddling him, her gloriously naked female form highlighted beautifully in the late morning light.

"Do you yield, My King?" She tightened the grip of her thighs against his midriff, arching her back teasingly so that the firm muscles of her ass rubbed his length.

He couldn't help the groan that fell from his lips at her movement, his hands gripping her muscular thighs tightly cradling him in response. "Mahal, you play dirty M'eudail." He panted, unable to take his eyes off her.

"What are you going to do about it?" She ran her nails up his body, making his breath hitch as she leaned over him, her ravished curls falling over shoulders and curtaining their faces. The warm sunlight made her curls glow like sun-bleached gold, enticing him to reach up and pull one gently before tangling his thick fingers into the glowing tresses.

He grasped the base of her neck right before he let out a deep growl, wrapping his other hand around her waist and flipping her over onto her back. "I am going to ravish my wife for being such a teasing minx." he said with a coy smile and a wink before molding his lips to hers. Mistlynn eagerly returned his kiss with an urgent hunger that had nothing to do with food.

A significant amount of time later….

Boneless, was the only word that could come to his mind as he lay there sweaty and breathless. The sex was mind-blowing, each time better than the last. She was an insatiable goddess that wrecked him each time she pushed him over the edge. It was apparent that she was going to challenge him in the bedroom just as much as she did in every other aspect of their life together. He loved her fire and drive. He always knew he wouldn't want a wife who was soft spoken and submissive. Amid their passion, she made him feel like he was invincible. The ghosts of his past were cast out into the far reaches of his mind by her light. For the first time in his life, his insecurities were silent. With her by his side, he could do anything.

"What is going through your head Kurdun? I can just see the wheels spinning."

He looked over at her with a disarming smile on his lips. She was laying on her side, propped up on her elbow as she looked down at him curiously.

"A great many things." He drawled, his voice sultry. He folded his arms behind his head and reclined back, perfectly relaxed against their pillows.

"Oh, is that so? Don't keep me in suspense." Intrigued, she looked at him expectantly.

He chuckled, obviously pleased with his current mindset. "I was thinking about the noises." He flashed his best troublemaker grin as he looked at her, his eyes bright with mischief.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Noises?" she muttered, before her eyes widened as she recalled the prior night and her nervous rant. She blushed as embarrassment flooded her face.

"Yes, noises. I believe you had some concerns about unpleasant noises during certain activities."

She grabbed the pillow that was underneath her and threw it at him, his laugh filling his belly from her reaction. She began throwing them repeatedly, only making him laugh harder as he grabbed the pillow to stop her assault. "You are such a brute." She growled, as she fought against his grip.

His laughter made it hard for her to remain embarrassed as he wrestled her back onto the bed, straddling on top of her, caging her hands above her head as he ripped the pillow from her grasp.

A loud tearing sound interrupted their tug of war as the pillow ripped and a cloud of white feathers burst into the air around them.

She gasped in surprise as she was momentarily blinded by feathers, allowing him the chance to take his free hand undoing the front of her shift to release her breasts, leaning down pulling and sucking on them with his mouth, making her shudder under his touch.

"I am particularly fond of the noises you make when I'm moving deep inside you, claiming your body over and over again." He chuckled darkly, his lips caressing against her sensitive skin. Mistlynn gasped, the feathers falling silently around them forgotten immediately as he moved his head slowly kissing down her body "Mine." He growled as he sank down to her increasingly wet folds.

She moaned breathlessly at the sensation of his beard scratching and tickling in between the soft skin of her thighs.

She let out a cry as he ran his tongue up the lips of her slit before he began sucking on her bundle of nerves, stroking that sensitive tender spot repeatedly.

She squirmed and bucked her hips, the pleasure overwhelming her senses. "Thorin it's too much. I can't take it."

"You can M'eudail…I promise." Is all he said before diving back into her, sucking harder and stroking her faster with his tongue, devouring her as he pushed her pleasure higher and higher. Her climax shattered without warning; a sharp overwhelming release quaked through her body as her pleasure gushed out of her. Mistlynn panted breathlessly as her orgasm washed over her, leaving Thorin looking up at her from between her legs with a sexy, crooked smile as he coaxed her through her orgasm.

He took his sweet time as he kissed back up her stomach with lustful purpose. He was stopped in his tracks by her stomach gurgling loudly, rumbling under his lips. He chuckled at her groan as she squirmed underneath him. He looked up at her, amused. "Hungry, My Queen?"

"No, no. I'm fine." She groaned in frustration. It was a blatant lie, she was starving. But food wasn't a priority of hers at that moment. Her stomach rumbled again in contradiction.

"I should probably feed you first before I continue to ravish you." He teased, as he released her hands and pushed himself up and scooted to the edge of the bed. "We can't have you starving now, can we? I need you properly fed, and energy replenished for all that I plan to do to you."

With a cocky wink he was up. "I'll be right back." He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on her pursed lips.

She pouted dramatically as she watched him put on his robe, still laying on her back on the bed surrounded by feathers.

They ate their meal together, joking about how their bed appeared to be the location of a great battle where many a valiant duck lost their down. It was utterly ridiculous, the story they weaved together as they collected the feathers and stuffed them back in the ruined pillowcase, only to dissolve into peals of soundless laughter when he reached into her tussled hair and pulled out the feathers that had been concealed in her tangled curls.

"They blend in!" he snickered as he started looking closer, only to find more in her wild locks.

"My hair is a disaster; it's going to take hours to comb through it.' She winced as her fingers were caught in a large tangle close to her scalp. "You made a right mess of it, you and your grabby hands." She accused teasingly.

"You should let me braid it, so I have something to hold on to." He whispered hotly into her shoulder before placing a kiss there. She could feel his lips curl against her skin into that sensual smile she was hopelessly addicted to as she tipped her head back to rest against him.

She hummed as she felt his fingers gently brush through her tresses. "That would be nice actually." She sighed as she nuzzled his neck directly under his jaw. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before sitting up to get off the bed again.

She watched him walk over to the dresser to gather a comb, hair oil and ties before walking back over to her. He settled behind her and started to gently section her hair. She hummed contentedly as he worked through her curls gently with a practiced ease.

She took this time to study the room around her, taking in all the details that had been hidden in the dark of the previous night. It was larger than she had expected, with large windows looking over the vast valley below them onto Dale and the glittering waters of the lake. A cohesive balance of the dark green and grey marble and a dark wood surrounded her. Floor to ceiling bookshelves were carved into the mountain and filled with old books and various weapons of ancient origin.

The furniture was of the same dark wood, elegantly carved and cushioned with rich oiled leather and metal studs. The only thing she recognized of his was Orcist and Deathless that were hanging in their new spots by an impressive desk by one of the big windows and door that led out to their private balcony. Besides his weapons, nothing of personal touch was evident.

"How long have you been in these rooms?" she asked, surprised that his office had a more personal touch than his own room.

"Since last night." He chuckled, not pausing in his task of taming her wild locks.

"Are we here just for our honeymoon then?"

"No, these are now our private quarters. I was going to let you pick the finishing touches to our home."

"Why were you not staying in here before?"

"These were my grandparents' quarters before Smaug came. When we reclaimed Erebor, I just stayed in my old rooms. Didn't see the point of moving in here when it was just me." His fingers were deftly braiding her hair, having removed all the tangles with a quick ease that surprised her.

The idea of them being the first to inhabit these rooms in over a century made a shiver of excitement run down her spine. She was only wearing his dark blue tunic from the night before since he ruined her shift during one of their passionate trysts. "I want to look around. I didn't realize how big it was last night. My handsome husband kept distracting me."

Thorin chuckled as he finished her long braid. "Very well. Look around and tell me what you wish to change."

She ran her hand down her elaborate braid and looked back at him in surprise. "Dis taught me. It's her favorite braid style." He wiggled his eyebrows, making her giggle.

"You're just full of surprises Kurdun." She kissed him soundly before getting up from the bed and stretching. His tunic hem reached her mid-thigh, allowing him to admire the creamy skin and feminine curve of her legs. One shoulder was exposed as the tunic slouched to one side as she allowed the sleeves to hang long over hands. She swung her arms as she walked around the room leisurely, taking in everything. She stopped at the shelving closest to the fireplace, studying the old weapons placed there. "Where these your grandfathers?" She asked, as she ran a finger along the dwarven sword, tracing the designs etched into the hilt.

"Yes." Was his simple reply as he sat on the bed, watching her explore. She knew he was admiring the view of her wearing his shirt, and she reveled in the knowledge that he still couldn't get enough of her.

"What was he like? You're Grandfather?"

The smile that was playing with her lips slowly disappeared as she turned to look at him over her shoulder and saw the distant and sad expression that flashed across his eyes. A melancholy smile graced his features as he looked down at his hands, fiddling with one of the rings that was on his hand. It was a signet ring, one that he undoubtedly inherited from his grandfather. She immediately regretted asking her question. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pried. Forgive me."

He looked up at her sharply, his sadness vanishing instantly. "There is nothing to forgive M'eudail." He got up from the bed and walked over to her. "You have every right to ask that question." He sighed as he stood beside her, looking at the sword before he picked it up, and held it firmly in his grasp. "Dis brought his sword back with her from Ered Luin when she joined us here after the Battle of the Five Armies."

He twirled it nimbly in his hand, the ancient blade gleaming in the sunlight. "He was a mighty warrior. He taught me everything he knew when it came to fighting. He was an attentive grandfather, telling us stories of his adventures as a young Dwarrow, of all the trouble he and his brothers caused." His smile was faint, his eyes far away in memory. "He had a booming laugh, and he loved to sing. He loved music and loud parties. He adored my Grandmother, and often sat in the garden with her as she tended to her flowers. There isn't one happy moment in my childhood that doesn't have them both in it."

His expression became pained, prompting her to reach out and grab his free hand as he continued to stare at the blade, lost in painful memory. As her fingers intwined with his, he squeezed her hand, drawing comfort from her touch. "It was gradual at first, just quick little moments where he seemed to forget himself. Before we knew it, he was spending most of his time in the treasury just walking amongst it all in this fever like daze. He became short tempered and selfish. He became suspicious of everyone, even his own kin, of trying to steal from him. By the time Smaug came, he was no longer my Grandfather. He wasn't even upset that my Grandmother and Mother didn't make it out of Erebor when it fell, he could only mourn the loss of the Arkenstone." His jaw clenched at the memory. Snapping out of it he quickly placed the sword back on the shelf, as if it was burning his hand as he held it.

"The Arkenstone?" she repeated, trying to piece what he just told her with the little bit Ori and Balin had told her in their lessons.

"The King's Jewel." Thorin growled, as he looked down at their joined hands. It seemed like he wanted to say more, but he swallowed the words thickly as if he couldn't bring himself to speak them allowed.

"What happened to the Arkenstone?" She breathed, unable to tear her eyes from him. He sighed, running his hand over his face as a familiar mask slipped back in place, the carefree dwarf she had been having the time of her life with vanished behind the stoic façade of the Mountain King.

She stood directly in front of him and grasped his face in her hands. "Kardun, look at me." She ordered.

"You want me to open to you? You must trust me as well. It is just us here, you don't need to hide yourself from me."

He looked deeply into her eyes as he processed her words. After a moment he signed resignedly. "I had Balin lock it away, deep in the vault. It made m …MY Grandfather …sick."

"Dragon sickness?" She furrowed her eyebrows at his stutter and quick correction.

He nodded sharply. "Yes. It drove him insane, even without it in his possession he could never shake the control it had over him. It led him to believe that reclaiming Moria from the Goblins and Orcs was our people's salvation. He led our people into a massacre. He was slain by Azog first, then Frerin, Vili, Fundin, so many were killed, and my Adad …" His voice cracked with a long-repressed emotion that was fighting to emerge.

She reached up to grasp the back of his head and pulled him down to her. "Balin told me how you rallied your people, how you faced Azog and showed him you don't fuck around with the line of Durin."

Her coarseness made him smile faintly, despite the pain of the past swirling like a storm in his eyes. "Those were Balin's exact words?"

"I was paraphrasing, but you're missing my point." She smiled broadly as she nuzzled his nose with hers before capturing his lips in a soul searing kiss. It wasn't long before they were battling for dominance, lost in a clash of tongues and teeth as they devoured each other. Her hands were fisted in his tunic as she pulled him towards her as she walked backwards, seeking a flat surface to christen.

She stumbled into the desk by the window, causing her to smile against his mouth and giggle in victory as she jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his hips before burying her hands into his hair. He growled hungrily into her mouth as he placed her upon the surface of the desk, running his hands up her bare thighs and spreading them wider so that he could step in-between them.

He continued to rub his hands on her thighs, slowly pushing the tunic higher and higher until it couldn't be raised any higher. His hands wrapped around to her ass and pulled her closer to the edge of the desk to have her flush with him.

He began to lavish her exposed shoulder with kisses. "I must say, I am partial to you wearing nothing but my shirt."

She giggled, running her leg up the back of his before wrapping it around his waist. "Really? That's funny because I prefer you shirtless." She grasped the opening of his shirt and ripped it forcefully down the middle.

He raised his eyebrows at she pushed the ruined shirt off his shoulders, a cat like grin on her face. "Actually, my first request as your wife and Queen, is that you are to never wear a shirt in this room. The moment the door is closed, shirt off immediately."

His mischievous smirk made her core clench. He placed his palms down on the desk and leaned forward, flexing his shoulders tauntingly. He noticed her eyes darken as she watched his muscular shoulders and arms flex and ripple under his tattooed skin. She bit her bottom lip, and he felt his cock grow hard. "Are you ogling me M'eudail?"

She ran her fingers down his chest, enjoying the feeling of his ab muscles clench under her exploration until she reached her goal, and unlaced his trousers before gripping his length. "So what if I am? What are you going to do about it?"

A snarl ripped out of his throat as he picked her up and laid her on her back before him. Her chest was heaving in excitement as she looked up at him through hooded eyes. He let his pants fall to the floor, releasing his straining length to bob against his stomach. She licked her lips in anticipation as he grabbed her from behind her knees and pulled her closer to him. He guided her legs up into the air and placed her ankles on his shoulders. "I'm going to fuck you until you are screaming my name." he growled between kisses he planted heatedly down her leg.

She moaned loudly as she felt him heavy against her throbbing entrance. He pushed himself through her slick folds, making her pant with need. "For the love of Mahal, stop teasing me." She hissed as her fingers clenched tightly around his forearms.

"As you wish." He purred before he sunk his length into her hot depths. Mistlynn gasped at the sudden fullness, her back bowing off the table at the intensity of him filling her completely in this new position.

"Gods, you feel so good, so hot, so tight." He gritted out as he picked up a thorough pace that stretched her completely, reaching deeper inside her than they both thought possible.

Her breathy moans soon became desperate mewls of rapture, fueling him to snap his hips into her at a faster pace. It wasn't long until he felt her fluttering around him. "T-Thorin! Oh, Thorin, don't stop!"

"I can feel you M'eudail. Are you going to cum for me?" his deep voice was raspy, prickling along her skin and adding to her ecstasy.

"Y-yes! Gods, Thorin Yes!" her cries grew louder with each thrust of his hips.

'Louder! Scream my name!" he commanded as he watched her squirm on the quaking desk in desperation.

"T-Thorin!" a shuddering scream escaped her trembling lips as her orgasm seized her, fiery waves of her pleasure rolling through her body.

Thorin's orgasm surprised him as her body seized tightly around him, milking him fully with each shockwave of pleasure that radiated from deep within her. He leaned over her, sweaty and panting as she collapsed in a trembling heap on the desk. His head rested on her heaving stomach, allowing them both to collect themselves as they came down from their high.

"I thought we were going to break the desk." She gasped, as she ran her hand absentmindedly through his thick black hair.

"I'm surprised we didn't." He huffed with a chuckle before placing a loving kiss on her trembling stomach before pushing himself up, making the desk creak loudly with the sudden shift of additional weight. A loud thud from underneath the desk made them look at each other in surprise before they started laughing.

"We did break it!" Mistlynn giggled as she watched him step back so that he could crouch down to see where the sound came from.

"There is a hidden compartment that just dropped open!" she heard him exclaim in surprise, prompting her to sit up and slide off the desk onto shaky legs.

He crawled back out from underneath the desk, with an old leather book clasped in his hand. "How odd." He murmured as he studied it in his hands.

"Why would someone hide a book in a secret compartment?" Mistlynn was standing alongside him, looking around his arm down at the book.

He gently opened it, allowing the stiff yellowed pages to flutter open on a random page. His eyes grew wide as he recognized the handwriting on the page.

"What? What is it?" She placed her hand on his shoulder, concern lacing her tone as she watched surprise then that deep sadness return to his gaze as he began to flip through the pages.

"This is my grandfather's handwriting. It's his journal." Came his hushed reply, as if speaking louder would summon the past to join them in the room. "I didn't know he kept a journal." He spoke more to himself as he briefly scanned the pages. He blanched after a moment of skimming through the account before suddenly slamming it shut. He stared at the leather-bound volume as if it had personally offended him before he tossed it back onto the desk.

"Kardun?" she asked gently, rubbing her hand comfortingly along his shoulder blade.

He blinked rapidly before tearing his gaze away from the journal back towards her and into the present moment. She took note of the forced smile that curved his lips yet did not reach his eyes. "Its nothing. Just a surprise. I didn't realize he took the time to write."

She cocked her head slightly to the side, studying him before she kissed his shoulder, tracing the tattoo he had depicting the Crown of Durin softly with her finger. "I feel like a warm bath." She started to walk backwards slowly, her hand tracing down from his shoulder along his arm before intertwining her fingers with his. "Join me."

Taglist:

@fizzyxcustard @mrsdurin

#thorin oakenshield #erebor #hobbit thorin oakenshield #hobbit thorin oakenshield x oc fanfiction #thorin and company #thorin durin #thorin fanfiction #hobbit fanfic #thorin oakenshield smut #king thorin

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callsign-bunnie · 1 year

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Alright this might be early but I’m curious so part 2 of that aledolfo fic?? Oneshot?? You did please🧍‍♂️

I got a lot of asks for this one which concerns me a little since I promise it's not going to be that great but here! This is a part 2 to this!

It'd been almost a year, exactly, since Rodolfo had gone missing. Alejandro thought about Rodolfo every minute of every fucking day. He knew the cartel had to have something to do with it.

There was no way they didn't. Rodolfo just went missing out of nowhere and hadn't been heard from since. That was exactly the cartel's MO.

Alejandro was in hell without his best friend. He wanted him back so so desperately and he was willing to do whatever to make that happen. He had gotten adjusted to the idea of only getting a body back but... God, he would be devastated if that happened.

Sometimes, at night, he'd imagine he could hear Rodolfo's voice in his ear. "I forgive you..."

He'd been drinking for an entire night and he heard, "you promised to stop, why can't you stop?"

Alejandro wished his mind wouldn't torture him so much. Rodolfo was missing, that was bad enough. Why did his mind have to taunt him by imagining Rodolfo's voice every night?

Once, he swore he woke up to Rodolfo laying next to him bed. He looked so real, so... there. But, Alejandro had closed his eyes again and he was gone. He'd imagined it.

Alejandro was not doing well.

When he figured out that Valeria was El Sin Nombre, it only cemented the idea that she'd taken Rodolfo more. Rodolfo didn't trust her but it would have been significantly easier for her to lure him out to take him than anyone else.

So when they got the opportunity to put her in the chair, he didn't hesitated. "Where is Rudy?" He growled, low and threatening.

Valeria seemed almost taken back before laughing. "So he really is missing... I'll be honest, cabron, we though you finally snapped and killed him."

Alejandro backed up, surprised and hurt from the idea. "Snapped and killed him?"

"How do you two know each other?" Graves asked. He was some American sent to track down this terrorist and missiles they were looking for.

Alejandro rolled his eyes. "Know is a strong word." He muttered, glaring her down.

"Strong words are important, no? All we have is our word." Valeria laughed, but Alejandro could see concern in her eyes. He hated that it was there. She had taken Rodolfo, why was she looking at him with concern?

"You sonovubitch! I'll fucking kill you-" Alejandro lunged forward, snarling at her. How dare she give him those eyes when she had taken away the only thing that kept him going every day?! "Where is he?!" He was yanked by Ghost and Soap, two british military officers also looking for the terrorist and the missiles.

"Alejandro! Calm down!" Soap exclaimed as he caught Alejandro.

Alejandro shook them both off and glared at Valeria. Valeria was not laughing. She looked... even more concerned. "Tell them. Tell them how we met."

"I don't take orders anymore." Valeria's face changed to amusement. She'd always been so good at switching like that. Alejandro had never been able to tell what was fake. "Even the dogs in Las Almas know not to bark at me."

Alejandro rolled his eyes. "She's ex-military. We served together. Same unit, different squads."

"My squad was clean cut." Valeria gestured and shrugged. "You- You two were part the wild ones. Los Vaqueros."

"Two?" Soap spoke up, glancing to Alejandro, who glanced back to meet his eye. He saw confusion there.

Bitch. She was playing games with him. "Rodolfo Parra. He was my second in command until a year ago when he suddenly went missing. Right around the time cartel violence stepped up." Alejandro turned to her. How dare she bring him up. "He knew you. He didn't trust you but you lured him so easy, didn't you??"

"You can't get your head out of your ass for five minutes, can you?! We didn't take him." Valeria shook her head, now glaring back. "With how you've torn through us, I wouldn't make the mistake of killing him."

"Then where is he?!"

"We don't fucking know, Alejandro!" Valeria exclaimed. Graves pulled her back in the chair and she shook off his hand.

"So, you, Rodolfo, and Valeria served together." Soap confirmed and both Alejandro and Valeria nodded, glaring at each other. "Valeria took Rodolfo."

"Yes-"

"No!" Valeria shook her head. "Senores, he has torn through my cartel this last year. I wish I had known who he was looking for. I would have fucking helped. It's well known in the cartels that there's one man you don't touch."

"Alejandro Vargas." Graves nodded, chuckling. "I've heard what they say about him."

"No." Valeria snorted, crossing her legs. "Rodolfo Parra. You touch Alejandro Vargas, you make sure to put a bullet between his eyes, sure. No man is unkillable. But... you touch Rodolfo Parra... you put a bullet between Alejandro Vargas's eyes first. Rodolfo is scary in his own right but... he's not... like Alejandro. Well, was scary, I suppose."

"Who else would have taken him, Valeria?" Alejandro didn't believe her at all. She could use flowery language to convince everyone else, but he knew her. If she suspected for a moment that killing Rodolfo would weaken Alejandro, she'd do it.

Valeria furrowed her brows. "Well, maybe the other cartels aren't as smart as me. Roba, for one."

Alejandro heard Ghost shift behind him, frowning. "He would not be so stupid."

"You should see what he does." Valeria snorted and leaned back again, sighing.

"We're not here to recover your second in command, Vargas. If it's alright with you, can we get back to the topic at hand?" Graves' voice was gentle, it was clear he wasn't trying to offend Alejandro.

Alejandro waved his hand, since Valeria had made it clear she wasn't going to tell the truth. He'd make her tell the truth, later.

Alejandro ran a hand over his face as he walked into his room. They planned to take a night before heading out to find Hassan. He was exhausted, so he didn't have any arguments with this.

The fact that Valeria had so willingly agreed to work with them was a shock to him. She hadn't even made any demands. Later, when Alejandro had went in to question her again, she'd pleaded her case.

"Alejandro. Rodolfo would be my greatest bargaining card. I could get you to do whatever I want, right now, just so you could get him back. Hell, it's crossing my mind to lie and say I do have him just to get you to stop ripping my cartel to shreds. But... I'm not. Why?"

"Because you like to torment me."

"No. Rodolfo was my friend, too. I will admit that I have ordered him to be grabbed a few times to distract you, but even you have to admit that I made sure he wasn't fucking touched the entire time."

"If you didn't take him, who did then? Someone had to."

"Maybe he left."

"Rodolfo wouldn't leave like that. He- regardless of our relationship, Rodolfo never knew how to leave quietly."

"Find your terrorist. Find your missiles. When you're done, I will personally help you find him."

"Why? Why would you help me find him?"

"So you stop destroying my cartel. You are a base level threat when you're with your other half. Without him? God save Las Almas."

Alejandro was left with more questions and he didn't like that. He wanted answers, not questions. But... admittedly, she'd convinced him. He didn't think she'd taken him.

But who did?

Alejandro started to peel off his gear, glancing around his room. God, he was exhausted. He hoped they would find Hassan quickly. Then they would all leave and he could hopefully go back to finding his best friend.

Alejandro turned on the light, finally, jerking back when he saw Rodolfo sitting in the corner. "Ru-" no, his mind had to be playing tricks on him again.

Rodolfo smiled at him and Alejandro knew it was a trick, then. Rodolfo didn't smile. He thought he did, but no one else could see it. Rodolfo had had so many years of schooling his expressions into perfect indifference that he'd never been able to just give expressions back without a lot of effort.

Alejandro took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Rudy would be gone when he opened them again. He knew that. He always was.

Alejandro slowly opened them but... Rodolfo was still there. "Rudy?" He asked, carefully.

"Why would you do that??" Rodolfo asked, now frowning deeply.

Alejandro frowned. "Do what?? Close my eyes??" He didn't trust this at all. No way was Rodolfo gone for a year and he was now back in the corner of his room. Maybe he hadn't blinked it away, but he... knew Rodolfo was not actually in his room. His mind had to be tormenting him further.

"Goodnight, Alejandro." Rodolfo got up and went to the bed. His movement... was all wrong. Rodolfo was fluid with his movements. He was doing it to compensate for being clumsy, but... this thing moved choppier. It's gait swayed back and forth, well more wobbled.

"You're not Rodolfo."

Rodolfo stopped and turned to Alejandro, slowly. His face contorted into a terrible smile. A horrible, wide smile. Alejandro's heart stopped at the sight of it. His eyes widened and he was tilting his head to the side. "Alejandro, you're scaring me..." It's voice sounded so frightened, so hurt.

Alejandro's heart pounded and he backed up to the door, his hand feeling for the gun he kept by it. "What are you?"

"Alejandro wouldn't say that. Alejandro doesn't love me. You got it wrong."

Alejandro stopped and stared at it. "What?"

Rodolfo's face melted into one Alejandro had seen before. His eyes filled with tears and he looked at Alejandro with such pain. It was so convincing. Alejandro would have believed it was him in a heart beat. "Alejandro wouldn't say that. Alejandro doesn't love me. You got it wrong."

Alejandro's heart broke. "Do you... mimic?"

The smile returned and it laughed. This was not Rodolfo's laugh at all. It was wirey, high pitched. Like a scratching record, almost. It's head swung back as it laughed. It was taunting him. "Please, Alejandro." It said, when it was done.

Alejandro backed up more, reaching for his gun. Fortunately, he didn't have to do much, because Soap was suddenly bursting into his quarters. In a blink, the thing was gone.

"Your radio was going ballistic! It was practically screaming!" Soap explained. "What the fuck was going on??"

Alejandro stared at the space where Rodolfo had been. Had his mind gone that far to play tricks on him? Or had something that could perfectly mimic Rodolfo been in his room? "I don't- did you hear words from my radio?"

Soap frowned, clearly confused. "No. None at all. You were just talking to something that was... screeching. It's why I came to check on you."

"Are you superstitious, hermano?" Alejandro turned to Soap. No, there had definitely been something in his room. Whatever it was, he was almost positive it had taken Rodolfo.

Soap stared at him for a moment. He must have been able to see it in Alejandro's eyes. Because a moment later, his face grew solemn. "I am."

"What do you know about things that can mimic?"

Part 3?? I hope this wasn’t a super disappointing part 2

#Johnny Soap Mactavish #Simon Ghost Riley #Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley #Call of Duty #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2 #Alejandro Vargas #Rodolfo Parra #Alejandro x Rodolfo #Aledolfo #Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare II #phillip graves #horror #mimesis au

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