#thank you for the support you guys have given me through the years I don’t wanna be mushy but your comments and asks and support inspire me

[celluloidbroomcloset]

Hi, first thanks for all the great meta and analysis❤️

So, I recently noticed this an increase of something that really annoys me: whenever the canyon stumbles upon an opinion they don’t agree with they’re acting like Con O’Neill is this helpless baby that needs protection from people criticising a character he played/his acting choices (because that obviously equals a personal attack🙄).

And as if he is this groundbreaking queer actor that has done more for the LGBTQIA+ community then David with OFMD. 

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely respect Con O’Neill and I do believe him that he is queer (despite there having been some valid doubts in the past) but I honestly don’t see that he played Izzy as gay (again, not on him, he just went with the role of the antagonist that he was given and did that really well, and then the Izzy fans tried to make it something that it was not). And if he did try to play Izzy as gay within the limitations of that script, then ok….an old white cis gay man who also falls into that hurtful trope of queer coded villain…tell me how that is groundbreaking representation again?

The same goes for “all of the other queer roles” he played according to the canyon. There are two of that I think: 

1)Cliff Costello, Cucumber (another old white gay men in a show with some very backwards views about how you are only properly gay if you get fucked in the arse or fuck others in the arse. No, I’m serious, the whole premise of the show is how horrible it is that the protagonist dosnt like anal!)

2)Val Pearson, Uncle (a character that fits every horrible stereotype of how trans people look, Con O’Neill stans love to claim that aCtUaLlY Val is gender fluid, but that is purely a head canon and never established in the show! If you know how 2000s media classically portrayed trans women and always made them the butt of the joke, this role is exactly(!) reproducing all of that).

Both of these are just side character btw. 

And I’m not blaming Con O’Neill for taking on these very problematic roles, as queer people we often have to take whatever representation we are given. Still -especially as a queer person- we don’t live in the 80s anymore you are allowed to be more critical about the roles you take on.

And I don’t think /he/ was the problem with these roles, I actually watched Uncle and like the way he played that character but that dosnt change the fact that the character itself is written deeply transphobic.

So maybe we shouldn’t pretend that they’re great representation?

And maybe we shouldn’t act as if Con had specifically chosen to play queer characters?

Like two deeply offensive stereotypical LGBTQIA+ characters in 40 years acting career? -that’s not more then your regular straight actor has played.

He is a decent actor but it annoys me that the canyon tries to turn him into this activist or something!

Wow, this got longer then I expected, sry just had to vent a little after seeing some rather outlandish canyon takes in the wild😅

OK, before I answer, I want to remark that this is a very thorny issue. I am not trans, and I know that there are some trans people who saw themselves in Izzy's characterization especially in Season 2 or discovered their own gender identity through that character. That's absolutely valid, and no one should ever say that it isn't.

I have not seen Con O'Neill in anything other than OFMD. From what I've seen, he's a good actor and seems a lovely guy who strongly supports fans and the LGBTQ+ community. But I can't speak to the other roles he has played because I have not seen them.

I read Izzy as queer, yes, though that's less explicit in the first season. He's very much the "queer-coded villain" trope, which is a homophobic trope...but as with everything OFMD does with tropes, it's subverted because—surprise!—almost everyone is queer. Izzy is very much an archetype of toxic masculinity and I think part of the point of the character is to develop how queerness does not always equal liberation.

I think it's very easy to fall into stan culture and arguing that the actor is the role and vice versa (so a criticism of Izzy is somehow a criticism of Con O'Neill). We have an additional layer here that this is a very queer show watched by a lot of queer people who see themselves, some for the first time, on the screen, and so are naturally defensive of the show itself, the specific characters, and the actors who play them. And that can cause a lot of problems too, especially if you're invested in the character who is canonically The Antagonist. To complicate it further, he is representative of a very common trope that for a long time was the major way queer people were represented at all in mainstream media, and we have people reading him as though he is the sole queer character. Which he likely would be, in many other stories...but not here.

It's a complicated issue. I wish that we could all step back a bit from our emotional investment in these characters and actors and recognize that they are part of a TV show that wears its tropes on its sleeve, and that just because an actor is a lovely person in real life, he is not his character.

#ofmd #our flag means death #reply #izzy hands #con o'neill

[mishapeep]

Uh, I saw your post and you mentioned that you teach the kids... how do I put it... that are given to you at social functions due your park ranger aura for safekeeping how to tell the difference between predatory lightning bugs and normal lightning bugs.

And then you didn't tell us that secret! May I ask you to share the difference between predatory lightning bugs and normal ones?

Thank you very much :)

By popular demand and because this was the most polite ask: how to tell the predatory lightning bugs from the non-predatory lightning bugs.

First, there are over 2000 species in Lampyridea. I am not qualified to distinguish between all that. I grew up in Northern Ohio (71 species) and every year summer wasn’t official until the lightning bugs came out in the evenings (usually the first or second week of June).

This is our first clue. The first lightning bugs out each evening are a species of non-predatory chaps. Their glow goes in a special pattern. Flash, pause, “J” shaped flight about 2 -3’ off the ground. Repeat. Their glow is more yellow and lingers. These are the males of Photinus pyralis or the common eastern firefly. They look like this:

(Photo from iNaturalist: a lightning bug beetle, mostly black with gold lines around the wing casing. Head shield is yellow with a red “eye” with black iris in the center. Rounded front and back, long down the center.)

Their females hide in tall grasses waiting for the right suitor. If you’re lucky and clever you can see her dimmer flash in the grass beaconing the males closer.

As the dark of night progresses you’ll start to see a quicker, brighter, greener flash. Blip, blip, blip, blip, long pause. They are FAST! They’ll also mimic the flashes of Photinus females. These are usually higher up off the ground. Even in the trees! These lightning bugs aren’t looking for love.

Photuris (not gonna get to specific epitaph on this one without a sample and a key) are looking for dinner!

(Photo from blog.greatparks.org another lightning bug beetle. This one is slightly larger than the non-predatory bug. It has “shoulders” and extra gold lines running through the back. Its legs are longer and its shield is more “sharp”. The shield marking is less like an eye and more like a yellow D where the inside is a red triangle with a black line running through.)

Another way to tell is to go out at night and catch a bunch of lightning bugs (if you can; I hear they’re getting scarce). Offer them a slice of apple. If you wake up in the morning to only a few and the rest are dead, good chance you found some predators. (This is how I found out about them! Wooops!!)

Lightning bugs are freaking magical. I’m so sad to hear that they are yet another wonder that we are losing at an alarming rate. If this bugs you as much as it bugs me there are a few things you can do to help them:

1) do not spray for mosquitoes! That spray is not-species specific. It’s bad for lightning bugs. It’s bad for monarch butterflies. It’s bad for birds. It’s bad for bats. It’s bad.

2) kill your lawn. But Misha! You said they breed in the grasses! True! However native plants are going to provide so much more habitat for these guys than a gross monoculture of Kentucky bluegrass ever will. The Midwest has some of the best native plant nurseries in the country! Use that resource!

3) Advocate for them and donate to conservation if you’re able. Bugs don’t have voices and they fight an uphill battle just for being a bug.

Thanks for joining my ranger talk! Support your parks.

#lightning bug #fireflies #firefly #glow worm #bug #bugs #beetles

[heartrobynn]

01. “The start of nothing.”

I ask everyone who interacts with this account to educate themselves, support, and donate to Palestine.

Please click to support Palestine, won’t take more than 20 seconds.

Author note: This is my first fanfic I’ve ever made, so if this is really butt I apologize on my behalf! 😥 I’d also really appreciate it if given criticism, so I can try to improve my writing!! Honestly, I was gonna scrap this because I hate how it turned out, but I would’ve felt bad since people were excited for it.

series masterlist

Word count: 1.6k

“BUZZ!! BUZZ!!”, the bulky alarm clock that sits on your nightstand sang. Mumbles escaped your lips as you slowly started to awaken from your slumber. Getting irritated from the repetitive siren, you forced yourself up and unplugged the whole device. “Fucking hell.”, you mumbled to yourself, already knowing today was gonna be a long day. Every semester, everyone’s schedule gets changed because you’re required to take 4 classes each semester, unless you have release time. Last Friday, everyone got their schedule and you came to find out you have no classes with your two closest friends, Arianna and Maia. Which you were really annoyed about because you don’t really talk to anyone else. (But hey, at least you guys have lunch with each other!!) It’s not even like you cannot make friends, you just kinda choose not to, better to keep your friend group small anyways. 

After staring into the abyss for 5 minutes, trying to gain your consciousness, you decided to do something productive and hopped in the shower. After refreshing yourself for the day, you decided to wear an oversized, multi neutral color sweater and some dull colored jeans that weren’t your exact size, but not exactly over sized either. You added some jewels to your fit, so you looked less dead. Not having the energy to put on your usual makeup routine, you decided to apply mascara to your lashes and wore your favorite lip combo. After you were satisfied by how you looked, you grabbed your headphones and headed down stairs. 

“Morning sleeping beauty, how was your sleep last night?”, voice coming from the man sitting down on the table chair, reading the latest newspaper like the old man he is. “Morning papa! My sleep was decent, wished I could’ve slept in though.”, you sigh as you’re putting on your UNIF Phoebes. “You know what happened last time I let you stay home, don’t need your mother being pissy towards me.”, your father opened his mouth to add on, but decided not to say anything else at the last second. You shift around in the kitchen, grabbing the chicken wrap you made last night and a bottle of water. Walking to the door to grab your book bag and stuffing all your items necessary for the day in it, “Alright, I’m leaving now. Stay safe, love you!”, you walk out the door to see Adrianna and Maia waiting for you.

You enter the back seat of the jet black Toyota Corolla, which belonged to Adrianna. As you enter the car, your ears immediately get blasted by the lyrics coming from the aux, however since it’s Window Seat by Erykah Badu, it's a valid excuse to be blasting music that loud at 7:15. “Hey boo, you look so adorbs today!”, your effortlessly pretty friend, Maia, tells you while staring at you through the rearview mirror. “Thanks my love, feel so shitty today, so that made me feel a little better”, you groan as you start to slouch in the car seat, dreading the fact y’all would be arriving at school in the next 10 minutes. Adrianna giggles at you, you were always the dramatic one out of the trio, “Trust and believe that you can last 3 periods without us until lunch. Plus, you could use this as an opportunity to get to know more people!” Maia nods her head agreeing with Adrianna. Even though you have Maia and Adrianna, your friends really were persistent in you meeting new people, especially since this was y’all last year, they just didn’t want you regretting missing out on so many opportunities. “Sighhh, I guess I could.”, you continue to slouch in the car seat, while Adrianna starts singing her own adlibs (that she swears up and down eats) and Maia groans in annoyance because she's gonna go crazy if Adrianna continues singing.

The first day with your renewed schedule wasn’t all that bad, but wasn’t interesting either. Well, not until your third period class. Your first period was Spanish IV, you sat in the back so you won’t gather much of your teacher’s attention later in the year. Even though you enjoyed learning Spanish, you hated when your previous Spanish teachers would randomly pick on you to read out a question or sentence they had on the board. Although, as you were seated in the back of the classroom, you noticed a certain auburn hair colored girl, she really only caught your eye because she was fast asleep during the little icebreakers your teacher showcased on the board. She was so into her sleep that you almost envied her, wishing you could sleep just like a newborn baby who just got breastfed just like she was. You whipped out your phone, not wanting to look like a creep for staring so hard and scrolled through r/AITA thread until class ended. 

When the period ended, you and your friends met up with each other so y'all could walk each other to class, even if y'all had to go separate ways. “Bro there’s this girl in my class and I swear she’s the love of my life.”, Adrianna dreamily sighs thinking about the girl’s captivating beauty and her alluring smile, while you and Maia give her the stankest side eye. “Babes.., this is like the 3rd girl you swore was the love of your life in the past 2 weeks.” Adrianna redirected her attention to Maia while you added on, “no actually, and then they be the most vile looking creatures I’ve seen.”, Adrianna rolled her eyes at the both of you raining on her parade, “Why can’t y'all ever support me? If I wanna fall in love with every woman I meet, y'all supposed to be my best wingmen.” Adrianna playfully argued with the both of y'all before the warning bell rudely interrupted. “Oh shit, we gotta go. I’m not tryna get caught up in the hall sweep again.” All three of y'all quickly scattered as y'all said your goodbyes, thankfully your class was nearby, so you weren’t late!

You walked into your calculus I class, only to find there was one seat left and it was right in the front too. You already knew you were gonna despise this class, as you sat down in the seat, your teacher began to pass out papers to the class, “To those who just walked in, I’m passing out a review paper of different pre-calculus problems to refresh your memories for next class because we’ll be getting straight into the lesson.” Students around the classroom mumbling and groaning in annoyance, all you can do is just sit in silence as you’re about to fall into your inevitable doom. Your teacher hands your own paper, you look at the first question, only to find out you’re completely cooked.

After that abominable second period, you decided to go straight to your AP Physics class rather than hanging out with your friends during the passing period because you wanted to have the opportunity to pick your seat without being limited. However, that wish got immediately crushed when you walked in the classroom just to see assign seats displayed on the board, “are you fucking serious right now.” you think to yourself trying not to crash out in the middle of class. You look at the name of the girl who sat right next to you, Abigail Anderson. You’ve heard good and bad things about the girl, but you didn’t know her yourself personally, so you didn’t really have your own opinion on her. You looked away from the board scanning the room to find y’all seats, only to see the muscular girl on her phone, paying no attention to her surroundings. You sat next to her feeling really awkward, especially since she didn’t even look up at you to acknowledge your presence. 

As the bell rings, your teacher starts to explain the reason why she has y’all in assign seats. Your seatmate is your assigned partner for any class work y’all have if it requires it and completing the study guides with each other, since the curriculum cannot be fully covered in class,  you and your partner are responsible for teaching it among yourselves. You quietly celebrate in your head, relieved from the awkwardness from having to find your own partner. However, that relief is short-lived as your partner, Abby, raises her hand up, drawing the teacher’s attention. “Is there an issue, Ms. Anderson?” Your teacher asks as she views her clipboard to make sure she addressed the girl's name correctly. “Are we allowed to request a new partner?”, right then and there, a surge of embarrassment washes over you completely. “Unfortunately no, In the real world you’re gonna have to work with people you don’t want to or don’t know, so you need to get prepared for that starting now!”, your teacher firmly says. You catch a scoff and a muttered remark from Abby, being reluctant about working with you. Normally, you’d let shit slide, but today your mouth moves before you can stop. “Alright, now you’re doing entirely too fucking much, acting like I desperately wanna work with you or something.”, Abby turns her head to face you, giving you an insulting gaze before opening her obnoxious ass mouth to speak again. “Not my fault you look like an insufferable person, I personally don’t wanna work with someone who’s gonna cause me headaches.”, as she continued to speak, the more agitated you were getting, how is she gonna label you as an insufferable person when she doesn’t even fucking know shit about you?? Fuming with frustration, you're about to respond when the teacher intervenes, “Alright ladies, calm down. I don’t need any of that happening in my class, if y’all have problems with each other y’all can solve that on your own time. Anyways back to what I said previously...” As the tension eases, your teacher returns to her lesson, though the uneasy atmosphere lingers in the air. Throughout the remainder of class, your mind could only focus on the things Abby said, unable to shake the irritation she caused. 

part 02. ??

Taglist:

@elliesactualgirlfriend @desireesfics

#🦦.fics #abby x reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x y/n #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson #abby x fem!reader #abby x black reader #ellie x black!reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #black writblr #black reader #black tumblr #tlou fanfiction #tlou

[callmelola111]

guilty conscience ☆ part five

 ← part 1 , part 2 , part 3 , part 4 ⭑ 

synopsis: it’s your first year at college and you’re 1,500 miles away from home. you’d feel completely alone if it wasn't for your attractive roommate ellie. will this attraction complicate the already uncharted territory? or will she be the answer to all your problems?

      |✯| pairing & wc: college!ellie williams x roommate!reader. wc: 1.2k

      |✯| cw (by part): 18+ themes (MDNI), fem reader, modern au!ellie, some angst, mild swearing, cat, discussions of cheating, light sexual themes

a/n: sorry to end on a more boring note, i was starting to lose inspiration at the end but i wanted to give y'all a happy ending after dragging reader through the mud these past 4 parts lol. thank you for the support on my first series, it has meant so so much to me. if you like my writing and want to see more feel free to leave a follow!! i have so many ideas in the works and coming to you guys hopefully very very soon. ♡

The sound of Cat’s voice echoed through the now silent bathroom. You and Ellie stood frozen in the stall just feet away from danger. Her hand remained over your mouth as your eyes glazed over with fear. All that bliss Ellie had given you just moments before was quickly ripped from your grasp by Cat herself. You were terrified for what was to come. As much as you hated Cat, Ellie was hers fair and square. She didn’t belong to you.

Ellies thoughts were less rational than yours as she began to picture the potential outcomes. You felt her hands get clammy on your face and the once present confidence vanish. Cat’s voice spoke again and you were both jolted out of your fear responses and faced with reality.

“Ellie, I can see your shoes just come out and-” her voice cut when she spotted a second pair of shoes in the stall along with her girlfriend. It was you. The bitch she was worried about the whole relationship; all of her fears were coming true.

“Ellie, who else is in there??”

With nowhere to run you and Ellie stepped outside of the stall and confronted the angry Cat. Ellie gushed out a string of apologies which you unjustly took offense to.

“You’re seriously saying sorry after I told you all about her little lie??” She already fucked you, the damage had been done, why bother with Cat if you’re the one she really wants? 

“I don’t know, I don't know what I’m doing.” Ellie placed her head in her calloused hands. After everything, she felt so impartial to all of this, just wanting the drama to stop. Cat jumped in, trying to steer Ellie in her direction.

“Els, she's lying. I haven’t said shit to her. She’s just trying to drive a wedge in between us.” Ellie wasn’t even given a chance to speak as you jumped in to defend yourself.

“I’m not, you know I wouldn't do that. Cat’s the one who was mean to me in class before she even knew you and I were roommates.” 

With this new development, Ellie decided to speak up, “You guys have a class together? Why did no one tell me?” 

“I thought your girlfriend would’ve told you, and after a while of you guys dating I decided it best not to bud in anyways.” you explained.

Cat raced to cut you off, “You decided it best not to bud in? What are you doing right now, huh? You’re a liar. Ellie, she's a liar!!!” Ellie stood there dissociating from the “pick me, choose me” competition being held between her girlfriend and roommate. When she noticed the two of you silent, staring wide-eyed for approval, she finally spoke.

“I don’t know who to believe anymore. With all this fighting and drama I think it would be best to not get involved with either of you. I’m sorry…” Before you could say a word, she was gone with a swing of the bathroom door.

You sink down to the floor, letting the cold sensation of the tiles consume you. Cat had already disappeared in pursuit of Ellie but her harsh words had left you less than eager to continue the hunt. It was a reality check hearing Ellie stack you right along with Cat like that. Like you were just as delusional and obnoxious as her. No fucking way. You stayed in that same spot for a few more minutes before finally pulling yourself out of the self-pity thought spiral and going home.

Expectedly, you didn’t see or hear from Ellie after that. Your next few days consisted of school and Dina only. You pushed through your academic afternoons and then went straight to hers where she coached you through your heartbreak with movies, snacks, and music. Dina was the best friend you could’ve ever asked for. She let you talk shit and gush about Ellie as much or as little as you wanted. She learned all the ins and outs of your desperate love story and slowly realized it isn’t a lost cause just yet. Being a 3rd party bystander gave her the advantage to see a perspective you couldn’t. And seeing you hurt so much, she was willing to do whatever she could to aid the pain.

Dina quickly collected the evidence she needed and headed to talk to Ellie herself. She was determined to make this right. You had earned your happy ending and she was going to give it to you. 

After asking just about everyone, Dina finally located Ellie who had been staying at her bandmates house. She was hesitant to talk at first but Dina had a way with words and soon enough they were deep in conversation about you, her, and the whole unfair situation. Dina came with receipts from the night of Ellie’s first show. Her texts showed you talking about Cat being there and being from your class. It was solid proof, not that you should have to prove yourself, but Dina gave Ellie the benefit of the doubt. 

“I feel so stupid. This whole time I’ve been dating some bully when I could’ve been with Y/n.” Ellie explained, regret lacing her voice. Dina could tell she was caught up in her head about it all and urged her with advice. 

“There’s still time for a happy ending Ellie. Do something now and feel sorry later.” She was blunt but right.

Ellie shot into action with a new sense of justice to her. Before you knew it she was standing in the door of your shared dorm bearing gifts and an apologetic smile.

“Ellie?” your eyes welled with salty tears. You didn’t think you’d be seeing her again so soon. And as she saw you stand there breaking she opened her arms welcoming your vulnerability. You accepted her embrace and buried your head into her chest as she used her palm to smooth your hair. 

Ellie whispered into you, “I choose you Y/n. It’s always been you.” 

“But… Cat…” you whimpered. Ellie squeezed you in tighter at the sound of your insecurity. 

“I’ve liked you since day one Y/n. The only reason Cat ever came into my life was because it was easy. I knew if I was honest with my feelings about you I’d be susceptible to the pain that comes along with it. I didn’t wanna lose you. My fear of being alone took over and I picked to be with someone I knew I could never feel something real to avoid any actual hurt. It sounds so stupid when I say it out loud, but it’s true”

“It’s not stupid Ellie. I get it.” She crumbled with your words of reassurance. You felt a sense of safety within her arms and Ellie felt the same. She finally pulled back to retrieve a bundle of wild flowers she picked especially for you. 

“Please, be mine, and I’ll be completely yours. Let me make up for all the lost time.”

Your expression softened, “Of course I’ll be yours Els.” She pulled you in by your waist and planted a long awaited kiss to your blushed lips. Forbidden love all of the sudden felt so overrated as you showered your new girlfriend with affection. Ellie wasn’t scared anymore and neither were you. There was a sense of peace and belonging that the two of you shared that day that no one could interfere with. It was love.

← masterlist ⭑

taglist ☆...

@machetegirl109 @gold-dustwomxn @menatoia @ximtiredx @robinismywifee @elliepricefield @alexpritch @jokirxmae @slaysksmska

#ellie williams #wlw #ellie williams fanfic #ellie smut #ellie tlou #ellie williams fan fiction #ellie williams series #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou2 #tlou 2 smut #tlou dina #tlou part 2 #the last of us #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie x you #ellie x y/n

[bitchy-craft]

Message From Your Future Self | Pick A Pile

Hello and welcome to this Pick A Pile! In here you'll find out what your future self wants to tell you. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful. Do make sure to leave comments down below on your experience! I do want to remind you all that this is a General Pick A Pile which means this is for a lot of people: therefore keep what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Note: Thank you all so much for requesting / offering Pick A Pile Ideas. I hope you all understand I am not able to do all of them since there are so many. I hope you guys can understand I am not always able to do everyone’s ideas since some simply don’t resonate with me, which makes me unable to do them or need to alter them slightly.

Masterlist

Pick A Pile!

Pile 1:

Your higher self wants to tell you that you’ll figure things out eventually. That thing you can decide or choose on? It’ll be solved. You’re going to be able to get whatever you want and gain whatever you wished for. Of course, the journey won’t be easy and it won’t simply come walking to you, you have to work for it, but that wish of yours is far from impossible, it’s in near future.

You’re going to go through a lot of self-growth, self-appreciation and self-love, you’re going to grow as a person and be able to revolve your life around the things you love and are passionate about, you’ll be able to use your creativity for success and love in your life. So don’t hold back, continue to learn, continue to love and continue to succeed, you’ll get there.

Pile 2:

You’re going to have a busy life, full of friends, passions, work and everything around it. It’ll look like a fever dream for a couple of years; full of partying and enjoyment. You’ll learn how to love yourself and to be yourself, you’ll be able to appreciate life for what it is and enjoy yourself. Although your life won’t be perfect, and there’ll still be things like heartbreak, but you’ll learn to process these emotions, accept them for what they are and use them to grow in life, to grow as a person.

You’ll feel conflicted for a while, and you’ll realise that even though doing a lot of things all at once is amazing to do, but it does take a toll on you, and that toll will show eventually. Your tiredness will come to you, but you’ll learn how to balance out your life, to make sure that won’t happen again. So continue to enjoy your life, continue to do what makes you happy, enjoy yourself, do as much as you want, it’ll give you a bright future.

Pile 3:

You’ll get a lot gifted to you once you’ve given your energy and time to others. You’ll share emotions and love with other people and live a rather peaceful life. Keep your friends and family close, don’t let them leave, don’t give them barely any energy, they are important and will give a great deal of love and support in the future.

You’ll have a clear vision on your future, a clear vision about what you want, and people will help you on the way. Your life will be a social one, a loving one. A life you wouldn’t dare to throw away, a life where you’ll appreciate yourself and your knowledge.

There’s a big chance you’ll have a family, may that be with children or pets. But you’ll enjoy every second of it, although you will realise it may be a bit harder than expected, a bit more energy than expected. You’ll be confident in yourself and see the growth you’ve made compared to when you were young.

Pile 4:

You’re going to feel pressured with time, possibly fear time if you don’t already do. This is because of how much ambition you have or will have, how much you want to learn, how much time you want to spend with your friends and family.

You’ll find out that time goes much quicker than you remembered, than you thought. You will fear you won’t learn enough in time, you won’t have enough memories in time, that you should use every second of your life to do something useful.

You’ll continue to compare yourself to others, although it will be in a different way than you do now, it doesn’t have to be a negative way of comparing, it can be a peaceful and understanding one.

You’ll live your life to the fullest, and you’ll live a good life, one you won’t regret, but that fear of not being able to do or see enough in time will always be a burden to you, at least if you don’t actively try to change it. Perhaps it isn’t much of a big deal to you, perhaps it won’t ever be a big deal, and if it isn’t a big deal it shouldn’t need to be solved.

Pile 5:

You’re going to fix the things that hold you back, solve the things that make you unhappy. You’re going to do a cleanse of all the negative things and energies around you and in you. You’re going to do an absolute 180 to your own benefit. Of course, it won’t be easy, it’ll be far from it. But it’ll make you succeed in life, be happy with life, be content with life.

You’ll be able to leave the things that happened in the past alone, it won’t hurt you anymore nor annoy you when you don’t want to think about it.

You’ll see the growth you’ve made and compare your future self with your past self. You’ll be able to look at all the terrible and hurtful things that happened with an accepting watch. You’ll be able to leave it behind, since it no longer served you. All that trauma will be dealt with, because you’re able to do it, you’ve always been able to do it, and you will, you did.

#pick a picture #pick a pile #pick a card #pick a side #pick an image #pick a piles #pap #channeling #channeled messages #channeled message #divination #spiritual #spirituality #spiritual guide #spirit guide #spiritual healing #spiritualhealing #predictions #witchcraft #tarot #deck #tarot deck #tarot reading #reading #dailytarot #tarotoftheday #future self #message #shufflemancy #tarotdaily

[idontplaytrack]

Closet

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem!reader(closeted)

warnings: MDNI, smut(oral, fingering both r receiving), coarse language, pet/nicknames

In which, reader and Janis are in a secret relationship because reader isn’t out yet. Time after time, the janitor’s closet was the go-to spot for some alone time.

You leaned against your locker, with a book in hand to pass time while waiting for Cady to arrive at school. And Janis, your girlfriend, who’s gone to the restroom. Damian was scrolling through his phone was he stood beside you. As a crowd of rowdy students entered the school, you shifted uncomfortably as they milled past you. Keeping a close eye on who they were. Mainly to stay away from the guys who’s called you some nasty names. You didn’t tell Janis, and they also seem to know when you were alone. That, or they just happened to have great timing. The many, many cliques at North Shore now almost-always peacefully co-existed after the whole Burn Book fiasco. With the exception of some, unfortunately.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Something’s bothering you.” He raised a brow, “Why are you so…fidgety whenever a group of students walk by.”

“No, it’s nothing.” You insisted.

Before he could respond, Janis returns. Thank god.

“You were gone awhile,” Damian remarked.

“There was a line.” Janis shrugged, “What book is that?”

‘It’s yours. I took it when I was at your house the other night.’ You wanted to say.

Look, you knew Damian and Cady would be nothing but supportive. But you just couldn’t do it, not yet. You tried coming out to your Mother a handful of times but you never did successfully. Given her reaction to queer representation in the media, you learnt over time that not sharing anything with her would be best to protect your own peace.

You shrugged, showing her the cover while holding a thumb in the page you were on. “Oh, nice.” She had that signature smirk on her face.

After getting by half a day of classes without Janis and your friends, you met them all again at lunch. “Oh, thank God.” You heaved a sigh when you saw Cady appear in the cafeteria. She quickly spotted you and gave you a wave as she approached the table, “Damian and Janis should be here in a minute. I walked by their class and their teacher’d just dismissed them.”

“Okay, cool.” You nod as she placed her backpack down beside you and told you she was gonna go get her food. As you ate, you people-watched, noticing that Regina was behind Cady in the lunch line and they said hi to each other. “Hey, girl. You survived.” Damian’s voice pulled you out of your trance. “Sure did.” You played along with his tone, “Senior year’s already sucking ass that I don’t have half my classes with any one of you guys.”

“I know.” Damian shrugged, “I’ll be back in a sec. Just gonna go get my lunch.” And so you were alone again, watching the lunch line move forward. Then, Cady leaving the line carrying a tray. And Regina saying ‘see you around’ to her. Boy, that was something you had to get used to, still.

————

All throughout lunch, Janis couldn’t keep her hands off you- her hand first gripped onto your thigh which nearly caused you to yelp. You shot her a look, but she doesn’t back off. Then the hand got lower, and lower so you shifted further away from her- which Cady and Damian definitely noticed. “Okay. What the hell was that y’all?” Damian asks in his usual fashion.

“Nothing. I’m left-handed, she’s right-handed. I didn’t want to keep knocking into her elbow as I eat.” You lied. Well, partially.

Cady eyed you two for a second, “Okay.”

“You’re not scared of me, are you?” Janis asked, casually.

“What the hell kind of question is that, Janis?” You came off almost way too offended.

“Okay, did you two wake up on the wrong side of your beds this morning?” Damian glared at the pair of you.

The lunch concluded in an awkward silence. Then, the bell rang. Signaling the end of the break and beginning of study hall for you, Janis and Damian. Cady had calc, with Aaron. “We’ll see you later, Cady.” Damian called out. “Are you two fighting?”

“Nope.” Janis responded dismissively.

“Cause something’s going on and you two gotta talk if it’s gonna be like this from now on.”

“Nothing. Is going on.” You added on.

“I ain’t stupid. I see what’s happening.”

“Oh, yeah?” Janis probed.

“See now, this is what I meant. Why have you two been acting like you can’t stand the sight of the other person? You’re fine individually but once either of you shows up, you just- oh, my God. Cady was right.”

Janis plops onto the bench, her eyes squinting because of the sun. “She said she heard one of you in the janitor’s closet.”

“Hell do you mean?” Janis swallowed thickly. Your heart started to race…you couldn’t deal with this now. So you ran away from them, not hearing what how the conversation ended. “We’re fine, Damian.”

“No.”

“Yes!” Janis exclaimed.

“Ahah! So what we’re y’all doing in there?”

“She really heard?” Janis asked, worried.

“What’s going on? That was you?” He calmed down, his face all serious now.

“Might’ve but, also maybe not? You know what? I’m not gonna talk about anyone behind their backs. We’re not talking about this now. Just- give me a minute and we’ll meet you back in the library for study hall,”

————

Janis quietly walked upstairs and down the halls. Quickly locating the janitor’s closet, she enters. “Hey.” She said softly, “What’s going on? You usually are fine with me having my hand on your thigh when we sit down together.”

“I dunno. I just- freaked out.” You stutter, “Also- it wasn’t helping.”

“Wasn’t helping what?” She asks, that glint in her eyes far from innocent.

“The fact that I…need you.” You avoided eye contact as you replied to her.

“No, no. Look at me.” She tilted your chin so that your eyes were locked in with hers.

“My mom found out.” You spat out. Her eyes soften, “What? Are you okay?”

“I can’t go over to your house anymore. So I’ll only get to see you at school. And then I got angry, because she grounded me. And I just- I- she found my toys in the drawer and she started asking me stuff about school, about who I was talking to…about you.”

“Baby, that’s ridiculous. You’re a senior in high school and she got mad over a vibrator?”

Janis was very protective of you, and though she didn’t like showing emotion, you were one of the few people who saw her with her guard down.

“Does she think you can get pregnant with it or something?”

“Janis.” You chuckled tearfully, “She just- she’s not open minded. And I cannot take it anymore I need, I need you to take me right now.”

She chuckles huskily, “Baby, if that’s what you wanna do now, I’ll be happy to make you feel good. But you’re sure you’re okay?”

“She didn’t hit me or anything. I’m just pissed off and I couldn’t hold it in anymore.”

“Good. If she did I would’ve reported her. I. also didn’t tell Damian anything.” Janis gently cupped your cheeks with both hands, “You’re so pretty, my love.” Leaning in, your lips crashed together. It swiftly escalated to become a heated make out session, her tongue explores every nook and cranny of your mouth as you fought the urge to keep quiet in the enclosed space.

Her hand travels down your torso are your back gets pushed up against the wall. You nodded eagerly as her hand slides into the front of your cargo pants, rubbing circles on your clothed clit which causes a pathetic moan to fall from your mouth as she bit down on your lower lip. “So wet for me already…” Her finger ran a stripe up from your entrance to your clit over the thin fabric. You squirmed, she places a firm hand on your hip. “You want me to take this off?” She asks, you spot her beneath you, between your legs.

“Yeah, please.”

With that, she slids off your pants and underwear, leaving them by your ankles. You were fully exposed to her…and seeing her admiring you aroused you even more and she could tell. You couldn’t keep still and your cunt was dripping. “Want me to take care of that?” She asked, her face dangerously close to you. Your mind was too clouded by arousal to speak, so you could only nod as an incoherent mumble comes out from your mouth. Janis wasted no time at all and latches her mouth on to your clit, circling the bundle of nerves in a gentle, rhythmic manner. And your knees? They nearly buckle already. She chuckles, making you squirm once again. Her tongue lapping, tasting you like it was her last ever meal. God, it drove you insane that she was worshipping your body, calling you beautiful, making you feel so loved and wanted. Janis liked it rough, but she knew you preferred otherwise and was more than happy to oblige. “Oh, God. Janis~”

“Careful, princess. People might hear us.” Her breath fanned against your sensitive skin, “But if you want to let them know you’re my girl, go ahead- use your words.”

Your worries were completely forgotten as Janis pushed you closer and closer to the edge with each flick of her tongue. Suddenly, she stops- her mouth leaves your cunt and travels down to your thighs, leaving a trail of soft kisses. “Oh, I’m so lucky, baby. So pretty and all for me, isn’t that right?” Her eyes were watching you again as you practically clenched around nothing. Her finger makes a return, dipping into you just slightly. Your breathing hitches, “Fuck.”

“Will you let me know if it hurts?” Her finger stops, she puts it in her mouth and she licks it clean.

“Yeah.” You agreed. You hadn’t done this before- she’s always just made you climax orally. And although you were nervous, you wanted to go for it and try it. “Okay.” She responded quietly, her middle finger plunges into you with ease. Janis watches your face for any sign of discomfort, but you felt perfectly fine. She soon found a rhythm that worked for you, keeping at the pace for awhile until she heard more sounds of approval from you which were getting harder and harder to stop yourself from making.

Janis catches your gaze as you felt a second finger teasing around your entrance. “Yeah, do it.” You told her decisively. She did as you told her to, her pointer finger joins her middle finger, causing you to take in a sharp breath as you felt this brand new sensation. Janis lets out a groan at your tightness, her fingers stagnant to allow you to get used to them.

“Shit, does it hurt?”

“Keep going, keep going.” You hummed licking your lips with your head thrown back a little.

“Alright.” She started off slowly. Pathetic whimpers fall from your lips at first, and she was worried that you were actually in pain. But it was a mix of some discomfort and pleasure. Eventually, you couldn’t hold back anymore and a guttural moan erupts from your throat. Janis takes this as her cue to pick up her pace, curling her fingers up to hit your g-spot. You were reminded of where you were so you returned to meek little whines, and whimpers.

“Fuck, Janis- that feels so good.” You told her quietly as your eyes met. She had a look of determination in her eyes to push you over the edge, and you could feel it happening soon with that coiling sensation in your core building up. “Janis, oh, my G-” It catches you off guard, but she adds her tongue to the mix. You weren’t complaining though, it felt damn amazing and you were closer than ever. Her tongue presses flat against your clit and you unraveled. That little trick was one she picked up after a few times- she knew clear and well you would orgasm if she does that. Her fingers were coated with your juices as they continued gently to help you ride out your climax. Her free hand, it wipes off her chin and lips before she kisses you.

“You did so good, princess.” She smiled proudly, cleaning off her fingers with her mouth. You kissed her back and mumbled a weak ‘thank you’. Allowing you a moment to catch your breath, you feel her tongue on you again. “Janis, what are you-”

“What? I can’t clean you up? We still have half a day of classes. Can’t have you all sticky and uncomfortable.” She stated innocently. You shrug, glancing at your watch. “What time is it?”

“We have thirty minutes.” You informed her breathlessly.

“Mm, okay. Impressive.” She said back while her tongue was busy at work to lick you clean, not a drop was left by the time she got you dressed and straightened up. “Okay, let’s get back to study hall.” She chuckles.

“Fifteen minutes?” You asked.

“I know, right?” She smirked, pressing a kiss to your cheek before she opens the door.

#mean girls #mean girls 2024 #janis ‘imi’ike #wlw #lgbtqia #auli’i cravalho

[sotwk]

According to the lay known as “The Fall of Gil-Galad”, upon this elven-king’s death, he was “the last whose realm was fair and free, between the Mountains and the Sea”.

…say what now? Excuse me, dear Middle-earth minstrels, but you seem to have forgotten about THIS GUY:

King Thranduil Oropherion is the Sindarin counterpart of the “High King of the Noldor”, and therefore comparable to the renowned High King Gil-Galad, but is sadly not given the same amount of recognition in stories and songs.

Allow me the honor of “singing” the ways Thranduil is very similar to Gil-Galad:

(1) Both were born in the First Age, and as young elves witnessed the destruction of the cities they lived in: Thranduil in Doriath and Gil-Galad in the Havens of the Falas. They were exposed to war and bloodshed at an early age and experienced living as refugees.

(2) Both survived and possibly participated in the War of Wrath. (You know, that really terrible, bloody, decades-long war that literally broke the world--that war.) According to certain interpretations of the film “The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug”, Thranduil likely did fight in the War of Wrath, where he “faced the great serpents of the north”. Elven warriors of the First Age were incredibly fierce warriors out of necessity, and if Thranduil survived those great battles when he was about 150 years old, that makes him extra badass. 

(3) Both inherited their kingships from their forefathers. Gil-Galad’s claim to the Noldor throne (like his canon parentage) is a little murky, but he is related to Fingolfin whose line was pretty much wiped out, so only Elrond or Galadriel could have challenged his claim (which they didn’t). Thranduil’s claim is far more direct as the son of the first King of the Woodland Realm and ruler of the Silvan people.

(4) Both were warrior kings. Because canon stories of Thranduil are very sparse, we don’t know for sure which wars he did or didn’t participate in during the Second Age. What DID he do those 2,000+ years while his father was establishing and ruling the realm? Honing his warrior skills seems to be a fair hypothesis. How else would he have developed the deadly skills he exhibited at the Battle of Five Armies? How else would he have kept the foul creatures of Dol Goldur at bay without a magic ring? It’s very possible he’s seen more time on the battlefield than official historical accounts say. 

(5) Both fought at the Battle of Dagorlad, during the War of the Last Alliance. Gil-Galad fought hard and valiantly to the end at Mordor, slaying Sauron by his own spear. Because Oropher died at the first onslaught, it was likely that Thranduil had to exit the war early, either to bury his father and their slain soldiers, or because he himself was injured. There may have been enough time for him to rejoin the Alliance at the Siege of Barad-dûr, to avenge his father and salvage his family’s honor and pride. But Thranduil, whom people mistakenly dismiss as arrogant or proud, was a king who valued his people and the soldiers under his command. It would have been easy glory to join the Siege since by then the war had been all but won (and won by the blood of his people, might I add). Thranduil chose to stay with his kin and help them through the loss of their king and many loved ones, and to reassure them that they were in good hands with him as their new ruler. 

It’s a big, sad shame that Tolkien was not able to write more stories about Thranduil, his family, and the Mirkwood elves. Based on the theories we, his fans, are able to formulate about him, it seems he may have been the most successful, even most benevolent, Elven ruler of them all. He will just have to get his glory and renown in the “songs” and “lays” of our headcanons and fanfics. 

Looking for more Thranduil content?

Introduction to SotWK

My Headcanon Masterlist 

My Fanfiction Masterlist

Thank you for your support and interest!

#king thranduil #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil headcanons #lotr fandom #the hobbit #battle of the five armies #lee pace

[astoryisaloveaffair]

Fix You - Chapter 14: Enjoy the Silence

Gif by @hunterschafer

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

Fic Masterlist

Read on A03

Spotify Playlist

»»———————►

Chapter Summary: The final heat...

Word Count: 7k

Rating: R

Chapter Warnings: Cussing, violence. I will not be warning anything else due to spoiling the story. We are all grown. You can stop reading when you want to.

A/N: Has it really been a year? I wish I had a better excuse than "I haven't been doing great." But that's what it is. I've had huge changes in my life. New job, new career, new goals, and a greater sense of self-worth. I'm feeling a lot better. But my new schedule is busy! Hopefully you can forgive me for such a long cliffhanger.

Finally, a heads up. This has been the arc I have been working towards for almost two years, and I'm not going to waver. Just stick with me like you have been. It’ll be worth it.

I also did the absolute most and made a specific playlist just for this chapter here.

Forever thank you to everyone who commented, reblogged, shared, boosted, made content for, and supported me. It meant a lot and definitely kept this fic in the back of my mind. As always, most love to my girl @musings-of-a-rose who has tolerated me being a shitty friend for a whole ass year, and always talking things through with me in life and in this fic. Cheers.

Suggested Songs: Depeche Mode "Enjoy the Silence", Fitz and the Tantrums: "Out of My League", Lizzo "Truth Hurts", Michael Kiwanuka "Cold Little Heart", Cigarettes After Sex "Cry", Guster "Demons"

Frankie and you decided to break your apartment lease starting October 1st. Fall term started on the 30th of August, and you wanted time to settle into your schedule before planning a move. You spent almost all your time at his house anyway, only stopping back at your apartment for more clothes. Frankie had already given you a row of drawers to keep your things in.

You’d honestly never been happier, both on cloud 9 and it never faded, you were incredibly excited to begin this new start with Frankie and Gabi. It all seemed to have happened so fast. It had only been five months, you hadn’t even told your family about him yet, mostly to avoid comments on the age gap. 

You were relieved the hiccup in your relationship settled, you didn’t like feeling unsure or that someone resented you. When you started feeling secure again, you clung to it. That sparkle of joy was hard to keep in check.

You picked your Fall schedule out together and spent the remaining weeks of summer basking in your relationship, playing with Gabi, going out with the guys, and constant fucking. But your most favorite thing was still lying on the couch with Frankie, teasing each other and watching bad TV.

“This is simultaneously the best and worst movie I have ever seen in my life. I don’t understand how they achieved this.”

Frankie shrugs, reaching to your lap for the giant bowl of popcorn, his eyes still glazed to the TV where Mad Max: Fury Road is playing. “I dunno. Who cares? It’s cars and chaos!”

“And Tom Hardy. And Charlize Theron.”

He pinches you on the waist, acting threatened by your thirst just to tease you. “You ever been to a demo derby? This kind of reminds me of it.”

You sit up from where your back is resting against his chest. “Um, no? Isn’t that kind of…for rednecks?”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but Benny and Will are rednecks. But no, it’s for anyone who likes cars crashing into each other. There’s actually one at the fair every year. We always go to it. You should come.”

“I’m not going to a demo derby.”

“Aw come on! It’ll be fun! First time for Gabi too, and there’s rides and games and funnel cake and fried oreos—” He pauses as you hold your hand up to silence him.

“I’ll go. You had me at ‘funnel cake.’”

The fair is packed. The final hurrah of the summer before kids return to school and university students dive back into their studies. The derby started at 8 PM sharp, you, Dali, and the boys got there plenty early to look around a bit, get some food, and find seats.

You forgo any typical entree and go right for the funnel cake, heaping fruit and extra powdered sugar on it until the plate is a big mound of sweet. The guys had talked you up on this for days, Benny wouldn’t shut up about it, and you found yourself excited to watch. Your legs bounce impatiently as you scarf down your cake, breaking off pieces here and there to feed to Gabi and your boys.

The seats were bleachers, hard metal planks that hurt your butt and back and caught vibration from every footfall, but Pope sat behind you so you could lean back against his legs to be more comfortable. 

It’s a long wait. The bleachers eventually fill up, you certainly had the best seat in the house (thank you Will), and you could see the hoods up of participating cars behind the commentator podium. The air is musty, the odor of wet dirt from a quick August shower earlier that day.

When the first round of vehicles start revving their engines, Frankie pulls some earphones for Gabi and secures it to her head. Once he’s sure she’s comfortable, he quickly runs you through the basic rules. “So there’s several ‘heats’, and which heat you’re in is based on how many cylinders the car has. Last car moving is the winner, but you can’t just avoid the other cars the whole time. No continuing if your car starts sparking from the engine, no hitting the driver side door, and no hitting anyone who’s already out.” 

“Wait, cars catch on fire in this?”

Before Frankie can answer, the announcer calls out the first heat and you almost choke at the state of the cars coming out. They were completely dilapidated, windows punched out and hood frames reinforced with extra steel. It looked like each entry had about 5 different parts all from different cars, horrendous paint jobs, and one of them even had a stuffed dinosaur duct taped to the hood. Some of them looked like they had already been hit by cars, parts hanging off and bumpers pressing in on itself. None of these cars would last at all. There’s no way...

The rink was surrounded by giant cement cinder blocks creating a large “rink” type area. The contestants lined the front bumpers of their vehicles up parallel to each other at the barricades separating the cars from the bleachers, alternately revving their engines during the countdown.

“Okay, so, usually we all pick the car we think is going to win.” Benny says. You lean forward to look over the assortment of jacked up cars for this heat, eventually settling on an old Toyota Corolla painted a matte black. Benny chooses the dino car, Will chooses a Dodge Stealth with it’s headlights hanging outside the socket, Dali and Pope argue over a Ford Taurus whose back end was already smashed into the back seats, and Frankie chooses a Chevy Impala, which you immediately regret not taking because it has such a long front and back end. Lots of room for smashing and being able to keep going.

Gabi jumps up and down on Frankie’s lap as he points out things to her over the sounds of engines and a countdown, and then the cars are off off, engines roaring and dirt kicking up as they all reverse at full speed, several of them crunching up in the middle while others circle around the perimeters.

It soon becomes clear to you that there is no rhyme or reason to which car makes it and which doesn’t. Pope’s Taurus didn’t even start and is eliminated after 2 minutes of no movement, and whoever is driving the boxy piece of shit Honda Accord that Dali had to select is a fucking maniac, winding and weaving at full speed backwards, hitting whoever gets in their way. Her choice is the winner of that heat. 

Most of them are driving backwards, and Will tells you it’s because they are trying to protect the engine. You deflate in your seat a little in disappointment, but he assures you that as the heat winds down and there's fewer cars taking up the space, the drivers and announcer will get impatient and they will hit each other head to head.

You’re shocked at how much you enjoy it. At one point a car hits the passenger side door of another so hard that it is pushed up and onto the barricade wall from the inertia, hanging from an angle as the crowd jeers and shrieks in excitement. One car flips over completely, another’s engine bursts into flames and the crowd all starts crying out caution because the announcer can’t see it. You’ve never seen anything like it before and there was so much fire you were sure the whole thing would blow up, but the driver slid out the glassless driver’s side window like it was no big deal and walked it off.

There is something satisfying about two cars hitting each other at full speed, the bodies of them crunching, wheels hanging off axles, bumpers being dragged behind and run over by other drivers, cars with mangled pieces becoming stuck to each other so they can’t separate until another car hits them, tires completely gone and cars only moving on its hubs. It’s chaos in a safe format, a way to experience destruction and violence in a way that feels good and unharmful. 

Gabi has never been so amazed in her entire life, her mouth hangs open and she wriggles against her dad to see everything, laughing every time a collision happens. The audience oohs and ahhs and boos and screams and cheers and teases, you and your friends join the clamor as you have your own mini competition with yourselves.  

Giant fork tractors come into the arena area to lift the cars that can’t move anymore, some guys are able to get theirs back up and running, driving them to the sides to shape up for the final Battle Royale.

The final heat is fucking wild. All the cars that were already battered enough before they even began to come back out, returned to do another round for the final winner. With all the action you’d barely even noticed that contestants whose cars were still driveable had spent the remaining heats beyond the barricades hammering and reforming their vehicles enough to compete again. 

And at the end, the winner of all faces the crowd, pulls off their helmet to reveal a thick curly mass of long hair.  The winner is a woman. You and Dali cheer until your throats hurt.

It’s over too soon. There’s a mass exodus the instant the derby is over, the packed stadium standing and pouring down the stairs pressing so tight that you and your boys decide to hang back until it thins out. You lead the way, Frankie’s large and warm hand grazing your waist as you slowly move down the stairs and back out into the fair, turning to wait for the rest of your friends to make it out.

“What next?” Benny says when you are all reunited. “More food? Games? Rides?”

“I’m not eating more before getting on rides, let's do those now.” Says Frankie, grumbling as he hears you tease him with Benny. He whips his head around to glare at you. “Just you wait until you get older and start getting sick on rides, I cannot wait to make fun of you back.”

The wait for the ride tickets is long, but it leaves plenty of time for the group to decide how many are needed. Who is riding what, who isn’t, what pairings and who will watch Gabi on the rides she can’t do. You’re surprised when Will and Pope back out of the Zipper, leaving you and Benny as a pairing for that.

Riding it was a mistake. The ride is basically a giant airborne conveyer belt with completely enclosed containers for people hanging off it that were 360 degree capable. And it lasted FOREVER. You lose some of your funnel cake behind the ride out of sight, threatening violence on Benny if he outs you to the others. 

But it didn’t stop you from riding The Freak Out immediately afterwards, a rotating pendulum swing that made you feel like you were going to be catapulted out of your seat. The ride seated 4 groups of 4 so that in between squeezing your eyes shut, you could catch watery glimpses of Benny red-faced and cackling hysterically, Will’s chants of “ohfuckohfuckohfuckOHfuckOHFUCKOHSHIT FUCCCCCCK!”, and Frankie looking…absolutely fine. It was almost disturbing really, he was calm and collected, the only hint that this might have been something other than a nice drive in his truck was his giant smile, the tears leaking from his squinted eyes, his chocolate curls whipping around in the breeze as his hands clutch his hat in his lap with a steel grip.

“How the fuck were you so calm?!” You gasp as you stumble off the rickety landing platform. You hadn’t moved yet you felt like you had run a mile, your heart was beating so fast from the adrenaline it almost felt like you might have a heart attack. 

Frankie shrugs. “Feels like a copter in a bad air current.” 

You simply stare blinking. 

“No, he’s always like this. Like this one time, we were flying in a helo over the Andes mountains, and—”

A sharp stare from Frankie that he tries to hide from you makes Benny backpedal. 

“Uhhh yea we were flying over some mountains and the air current was wild but we got over the mountains just fine and everything was fine and we were fine.”

Your heart seizes in your chest, that same feeling of not being told something creeping up. You hate it. You push it back down, swallowing heavily to center yourself. “So I assume you were fine.”

“Yea. Yea. Cat is a good pilot.” 

You hum, the panic still not leaving your chest.

Frankie grabs your hand as you walk. “It happened a lot, I just got used to it.”

“It happened a lot?”

“Yea. I mean, sometimes we were flying through shit climates, sometimes even pursued. Doesn’t make for a smooth ride. I’m just used to it. They always scream bloody murder though.” Frankie smiles softly.

“Oh.”

You go silent, continuing to walk to the next destination: the scrambler. You had already established you would not ride and Dali wanted some funnel cake herself, so she heads off while you stay off to the side with Gabi to watch, lost in your own thoughts.

“Just don’t fucking talk about that, none of that. That never happened.” Frankie seethes to Benny as they are strapped into the ride. 

“Sorry dude, I can’t read your thoughts. I figured she knew.”

“No. I don’t want her to know. No one else needs to know about it.”

Benny falls silent, looking to Will beside him. Pope lowers his head, choosing to say nothing.

“Catfish…you have to.” Says Will.

“No the fuck I don’t. I never want her to know. If she knows…she’ll actually see ‘real me’. ‘Fuck-up me.” And I don't want her to yet. I don’t want to lose her yet. I don’t want her to be afraid. Stop fucking looking at me like that.”

They stop. But only because the ride starts, and they can’t see anything other than blurs.

You hate this feeling, this fluttering in your stomach like something is wrong but your heart knows, it knows it’s fine. It has to be. Your mind is spinning, trying to combat the rising anxiety clenching in your chest, doing gymnastics to find reasons to not be alarmed.

He’s not lying about something. He’s not. …He promised….I’m just overthinking this…

You can’t. You refuse to even think about it. Confronting the terrible possibility that you might’ve done it again, you might have thrown yourself all in to someone only to—-no. 

He’s not lying. He’s not. …He promised….he’s different. I’m just overthinking this…

You can feel butterflies bubbling in your stomach and you feel like you might throw up. Fucking men. You huff in frustration and try to distract yourself with your surroundings, watching people on rides, sharing funnel cake. Your eyes scan over two men staring at you silently by a skewered chicken cart and in your current mood it makes you furious. “What the fuck are you staring at?!” You growl at them. They say nothing and slowly walk away, disappearing into the crowd. Fucking. Men.

You try not to let your emotions show. You sit back while Gabi goes on some rides for her age, using the time to rehydrate and calm yourself down. Living through Gabi’s joy helps.. She’s having a blast, choosing a different person to pair with for each time ride. Pope in the Wacky House, the Helicopters with her dad, Benny on the mini Viking ship. Once you feel better you join in to play bumper cars (Will and Gabi win) and ride the high-rise swings with her seated in the cool metal chair next to you, Benny singing along to the ambient speakers playing “Out of My League” so loud eventually all the other teens on the ride join in.You enjoy the mini coaster more than you thought you would considering it’s for kids Gabi’s age, you and Dali are the only others who can fit in the seats, no matter how hard Benny tried. It was easy to quickly forget.

After the coaster, Gabi begins to slow down, so you hit the fried oreo stand, paying for several batches despite protestation and alternately feeding everyone as the group slowly walks through the agricultural parts of the fair. It’s calmer here, the air warm and quiet. The pathway is less crowded so Gabi is able to frolic around on the walkway in front of you safely. 

You walk through every barn, stopping to pet every animal. She’s a natural with them. Completely fearless, not one flicker of apprehension as she approaches cows and horses that are easily 6 times her height, paying close attention to her dad in how to not spook them. Everyone finds the goats to be the favorite because of the sounds they make. Even more so when Frankie engages in a screaming contest back and forth with a bunch of them until someone shoos them out of the pavilion.

Soon, all the sugar Gabi consumed rears its ugly head in the rabbit barn, she throws a fit when Frankie won’t let her get a pet rabbit and you only just catch her upper arm in time to keep her from collapsing on the filthy barn floor. You’re surprised she held out so long. Even you were crashing and getting tired. Also, the rabbits were ridiculously cute.

“Listen Gabi, how about we ride the ferris wheel? Would you like that?” You kneel before her, swiping the tears off her cheeks as she catches her breath. “It goes really high! Higher than the swings!” She nods, sniffing in a snot bubble as she takes your hand. The two of you lead the way, and as you get closer and closer, you start to regret your decision. 

It’s much taller than the Freak Out. By more than 100 feet. It doesn’t look very stable either.

“Wait...this…this looks kind of high, don’t you think?” You turn to the guys, trying to conceal the wavering in your voice. You were scared enough at 70 feet. This was more like 200.

“Height requirement says she’s fine. And it’s enclosed, goes really slow. Come on.” Frankie takes you by the hand and your heart leaps into your throat, your feet skidding across the lawn as you try to pull back. 

A light shove pushes you forward and you turn to glare at Will as he smirks down at you. “If you don’t go I’m never going to let you hear the end of it. Not after you called us “old and broken down.”

Well shit.

“Fine.”

You’re shaking when it’s your turn, the group mad dashing to three cars next to each other so you could talk throughout. Benny pairs with Pope, Gabi is vibrating with excitement as she’s put into a carriage by Will and Dali, and Frankie is beaming as he motions you towards the left car. He pats your butt as you gingerly step in, waiting until you’re seated before joining you and taking your hand. 

“Babe…are you okay?”

You swallow, grateful it’s dark enough he can’t see you trembling. “Yep. I’m good.” 

He leans forward in his seat, the glowing phosphorescence of the lights of the ride and around the fair bathing him halfway in a multicolored glow. tThe colors and shadows fold into the angles of his face like rainbow chiaroscuro, an angular stained glass window. He takes your hand again, yours is swallowed in his palm and you close your eyes as he rubs his thumb across the top. The dark beat of Depeche Mode pounds against your chest and echoes in your ears and you briefly imagine this is what it must feel like to drop acid.

“Your hands are really sweaty…and you’re breathing really fast. Are you sure you’re okay? Hey…” He squeezes your palm and you open your eyes to meet his. “It’s okay if you’re scared. I won’t joke anymore about it, I’m sorry.”

You swallow. “It’s just really really high.”

Frankie watches the ride operator out of the corner of his eye passing their car as he makes sure everyone is safely locked in before tugging on your arm slightly. You slide forward minutely, he meets you more than halfway with his large limbs and rests his hands on your hips. You gasp as the ride jolts and begins rolling, lifting the cabs up in the air. His calloused fingertip pushes your head back up.

“How about I distract you.” He murmurs, shifting forward one inch more, tilting his neck as his soft pouty lips meet yours. 

You close your eyes, trying to lose your self awareness into him and his mouth and the soft skin of his nose that bumps your cheek and tickles your nose with its little breaths. 

The lift mechanism suddenly shudders, clunking over something and it feels like when you run over a squirrel in your car. You inhale sharply against Frankie’s lips as your cab jostles back and forth. Not much, but enough for you to slam yourself back against your seat and clutch the seat bottom as hard as you can. Your heart beats wildly and you imagine the ride breaking and dropping you on the ground to be crushed to death by this stupid fucking metal cab.

You feel pressure on your knees and look down, focusing hard to not see double from fear. Frankie cups both in his hands, thumbs lightly stroking the inside of your thighs. “It’s okay.” He reassures, squeezing your knees once more. “Probably an under-greased cog, it’s nothing. They test these things like 50 times a day.”

You simply stare, forcing yourself to nod. 

“Close your eyes.”

You open your mouth to argue then close it and obey. You trust Frankie, and it can’t be any worse. 

“Just focus on me. And…you hear the music? It’s called “Enjoy the Silence.” I was obsessed with this song when it came out. And can you hear Benny below us? I can hear Gabi laughing too. We’re all okay, you’re okay too.”

You bite your lips into your mouth, focusing on the song and Frankie’s husky voice. The meditative synth pop calms you, and the carefree voices of your friends below does help calm you, but you can’t slow down your heartbeat. 

“I’m okay. Just too much adrenaline.”

The hands on your knees slide up your bare thighs and wrap around the bottoms of them. Frankie pulls you forward in your seat with a smirk. “I’m feeling a little amped up too.”

“Frankie.”

He doesn’t respond, his sole focus on your thighs as his hands slide up and up and up until he is just able to slip the tip of one of his fingers under one leg of your shorts. For some reason, it pisses you off.

“Frankie!” You hiss. “People could see us.”

“Nah…” He shushes you, his finger sliding lower. 

You clamp your legs shut and push his hand back in his direction. “Frankie, I don’t want to right here.” 

He sits up. “Oh.”

Suddenly you hear Benny’s voice from below. “Hello we are underneath you guys! I don’t want to hear any hooking up sounds!” He trolls, and you fully push Frankie back to his side, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.

It’s the first time you can remember that it’s ever been uncomfortably awkward between the two of you, and you’re not sure why. The silence seems so much more noticeable and weird against the clanking of the Ferris wheel gears and the chattering of random other people.

You’re not even looking at each other, you realize. When did that happen? Your neck cranes to the left as you gaze at the stars, and when you turn back towards Frankie, he is looking to the right and down at the fair. 

“…Is everything okay?”

His eyes snap back to yours. “Yea? Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Cause I pushed you away, and…I dunno, you’re being weird..”

“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s not intentional. I’m not upset, c’mere.” He opens his arms wide to you, scooting on his bench so there’s enough room for you.

You hesitate. “Won’t it…won’t it throw off the balance?”

You feel ridiculous asking but he doesn’t laugh at you, just shakes his head slightly. “Nah, they wouldn’t be able to run this ride if people couldn’t sit on the same side.”

You balance awkwardly on the edge of your bench overanalyzing what exact moment during the track of the ride to launch onto his, but you overthink it and end up jostling the cab more than necessary. Frankie’s arms pull you into his side and you burrow your face in his neck as the cab continues to rock. The music fades from Depeche Mode to Lizzo to Lil’ Nas X (Will clearly enjoys that one) and then back to Lizzo, and you forget all about your uneasiness.

He was right. It did feel better being with him. 

The ride does one more pass then rolls to a halt, letting off you with Frankie and Benny with Santiago. You hover at the exit for Will and Gabi, who have to wait for their cab to reach the platform before dismounting. Frankie takes your hand as you wait.

Gabby’s adrenaline rush runs out fast, and you spend the remainder of the fair eating more fried Oreos and playing games. Somehow you manage to beat them all at the water shooting game, which amps up the competitiveness to the point you’d rather just watch.

Which is how you end up at the “star” game. 

“We’re so fucking good at this game, it pisses them off every time.” Laughs Benny, as he shoots the entire Star out perfectly with the gun that is specifically not given enough ammo to achieve this. You hop up on the far side of the counter to watch, noting the way each of you boys handles their weapon and the differences in each. Benny held his gun loosely, like he was relaxed and self assured. It almost seemed like you would be able to slap it out of his hands but you knew he still had an iron grip. Will was precise and, as you expected, “perfect form”. You could tell just from Pope’s posture change that he was the best shot on the team, you’d never seen him look so focused. Frankie held his with a tense white knuckle grip, the folding stock tucked against his shoulder joint. The tension carrying up his arms as his veins popped out in his forearms and biceps. He looked fucking good. And you wouldn’t consider yourself a “gun person.” In fact, you kind of hated them. But there just was something about a strong non-douchey man holding a rifle like that that activated you. Damn the patriarchy. Even Dali is a great shot, though not as good as the guys.

After a few rounds, the carnie finally stopped allowing your posse to keep playing, frustrated that somehow the rigging system didn’t work on your group. You lean back on your hands, your legs swinging against the wood counter, observing Benny arguing with the carnie with a smirk. Gabi is passed out in her stroller next to you as Frankie sidles up to you, feeding you a piece of Fried Reeses, then promptly kissing you so the taste floats between you. 

He hums deeply, stepping closer to you til he’s between your legs. His hands rest low on the top of your thighs. “This ok?”

You smile. “Yes. More than okay. And I want more.” 

Frankie beams and cups your face, his lips crashing into yours as he all but breathes you in. You tilt your head and poke his mouth with your tongue. He responds immediately and opens for you, meeting you halfway. You whine softly as his hands leave your cheeks and trail down your back, one hand sneaking a bit lower to discreetly cup your ass. You’ve just wound your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck when you hear a shrill voice cut through the din of the dwindling crowd.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Your heart slams to a halt so fast it hurts. You recognize that voice. And so does Frankie. Your heads both snap to the left as a disheveled looking Lex stands there with a bunch of her friends.

Frankie simply stares. She repeats herself. “Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me. The BABYSITTER? Are you fucking your BABYSITTER??? Oh Frankie…come on…how pathetic can you be? She’s like a child!”

You look at Frankie, receding into himself like a silent, terrified puppy. You’ve never seen him like this before, it unnerves you.

“Excuse me.” You snap back. “I am 28.”

She scoffs. I fucking knew something was going on with you two. And you’re doing this in front of my child?”

“Well, actually, Gabi is sleeping. At least she was, until you came ranting and raving.” You make eye contact with Pope, who reads your perfectly and starts steering Gabi’s stroller away so she can’t hear. “We made sure to be careful for her but why do you even care if we are fucking? You left him! You didn’t want him anymore, so it shouldn’t fucking matter who he dates.” 

“He’s a drug addict and a pathological liar. He will NEVER change.”

“Yea? And you are a drunk, controlling, OCD bitch who can’t mind her own fucking business. He’s happy with me. I trust him. Unlike you. Bye.” You couldn’t help yourself, you just fucking hated her.

But that set her off. “Did he tell you why he was suspended?”

“Yes, he—“

“Did he tell you he was high, flying a family and he almost injured everyone from a sloppy landing? Did he tell you how he would take Gabi to his drug dealers house with him? How he went on a STUPID fucking mission with these idiots to burglarize a fucking drug lord completely off paper? That I deliberately asked him not to because we had a new baby? That he crashed their helicopter, dropped all their money and shot innocent villagers to keep them from getting it? At children and old men adn women? That because of that, Molly’s husband was shot in the fucking head by one of those people? And then they couldn’t even bring the money back so it was all for no reason?”

She’s shouting now, spittle flying from her inebriated lips. One of her friends tries to grab her arm but she shakes them off. People in the crowd are starting to stop and watch. “Then, THEN, he treated me like shit, saying horrible things to me just when he was mad, throwing things, scaring me!”

You feel like you can’t breathe, it’s too much information all at once. “...What? I don’t…No. no, he said he was on a delta mission–”

“Oh sweetheart,” She sneers condescendingly. “He was on a greed mission. He was retired from delta. This was like a year ago. They all wanted to get rich and robbed a fucking drug kingpin and Frankie shot innocent people to make sure he got alllllll that money. And because of that, his friend was shot and killed and his family has NO idea why. He lied to you.”

You turn to look at him, and all his friends. Everyone is silent, trying not to look up from the ground. Dali looks as bewildered as you. “Frankie…?” Tears water in your eyes and you feel like your heart is going to burst. You thought he told you it was an enlisted mission, but on top of everything else you just learned your thoughts are rushing so fast you can’t seem to remember specifics. 

Frankie can’t even look at you. And that’s how you know. 

It’s true…

“Lex. Stop.” Will’s Southern drawl cuts through the silence, the commanding officer in him coming out. “It’s over. This shit between you two has to stop. Enough.” His eyes shift to Lex’s friends, who are nodding and repeating the same thing. Lex finally allows them to pull her away muttering under her breath, sending one last glare in your direction.

The walk to the truck is silent. The ride home is a foggy blur. But the minute you step into the house, you crack. 

“Frankie please tell me all this is not true.” You can’t read him at all, his face is completely blank as he moves around you towards Gabi’s bedroom to tuck her in.

So you wait.

His hackles are already up when he comes back out.

“Frankie–”

“Yea.”

“Well?”

“Yea. It’s true. We tried to steal money from one of Pope’s cases and it backfired and Tom got shot.”

“Because of you.”

His expression changes then, from blank nothing to vicious defensive anger. “Yea. Because of me. I fucked up the flight back and we crash landed and these fuckin’ villagers were gonna take the money! And it was an accident!”

“You ‘accidentally’ shot innocent people?”

He swallows, his jaw clenching and unclenching. You can see he’s doing mental gymnastics in order to avoid accountability. 

“Did your finger slip?”

No answer. 

“Frankie. Did your finger slip on the trigger?”

You already know the answer before he says it. And somehow it’s like he morphs into a Disney villain as he says it. “No. My finger didn’t slip.”

It burns, the sharp pain in your heart that makes you feel like it’s having a seizure or forgot how to pump blood or is pumping too much blood. “How many people did you kill.”

He shrugs. “I dunno.”

“You don’t know? How can you not know?! Frankie, you told me this was your job! You- you fucking lied to me! I-I I asked you if you were hiding anything else from me and you fucking lied to me!” You can’t help your voice raising, the tears spilling out of your eyes as you realize how fucking stupid you had been. Somewhere in the background you can hear Gabi has woken and is hysterically crying. Frankie, clearly having enough, turns back towards her room. But you continue, screaming at his back. “And that’s why Tom is dead? And his family doesn’t know why?!”

Frankie doesn’t answer and suddenly you are enraged. You run behind him and shove him forward. “I’m fucking talking to you! How can you just be so fucking blase about this??? And…all that other shit???—I feel like I don’t know you at all!”

He whirls around, that furious murderous face you ‘ve seen him give others is finally directed at you. “Because you don’t!” He screams back, his teeth nash and he shoves a finger one inch from  your face. You flinch.

“Frankie, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m scaring you? Really? I thought this was your thing?” 

You blink, confused, tears stalling on your face. “Don’t–”  You plead softly.

“No, Lex is right. You’re a naive little girl who thinks she can save worthless idiots like me and live some fucking fantasy happily ever after. You won’t. You can’t. I’m unfixable.”

“How can you say that!! Frankie, I love you!

He scoffs. “I know you think you do. And I know you aren’t stupid, you told me you’ve done this before. But guess what sweetie, you aren’t better, you’re still doing it because you’re so fucking desperate for someone to love you. You don’t love me. You just want to feel like some fucking savior.”

“No! No… I didn’t, I don’t…you told me you loved me!”

“I wanted to fuck you.” His eyes are black as far, it’s like you don’t even recognize his face anymore. Lex was right. Lex was right. How…did you make all of it up in your head?

“You…You’re a fucking psycho…I feel like you emotionally manipulated me into caring for you only for you to play games with me! I specifically told you I couldn’t go through this again and you fucking did it anyway!”

“Hey, you kissed me. And you were fun to fuck, I will admit that. Let me do fucking anything. But we both knew this would happen. You set yourself up. I did shoot those villagers. I caused Tom’s death. I just wanted the fucking money. And I wanted to kill a bunch of kids too, when they got in my way. Fuckin’ teenagers and I told Pope to fucking shoot them all.  And you know what else? We went back and got all that fucking money we hid, and we are fucking swimming in it. And I didn’t share a goddamn dime with my ex. You’re right. I am a psycho, so it’s a good thing this is over. Pack your shit and leave me alone.”

“Fuck you Frankie.”

You don’t wait another moment. You don’t need to be asked twice this time. You shove him aside on your way down the hallway, doing everything you can not to let the second round of tears fall. He’d seen enough.

You slam the door of the master bedroom behind you, frantically bouncing around different points in the room to grab all your shit. When did all of this stuff even get here? Anxiety bubbles up your chest until you can’t take it anymore and say fuck it, he can just throw anything else out. I have to get out of here.

You rush back down the hallway like a speed demon, praying to whatever that he won’t be standing in the hallway still. He isn’t. He’s sitting on his couch facing away from you, his head in his hands. You hate yourself for wanting to go comfort him. He’s right…I’m

not better…

You pause on the front doorway, struggling to say what needs to be said. Don’t be weak. Don’t keep letting people do this to you over and over. “Don’t contact me.I never want to see you again.” You say to his back.

He doesn’t move a muscle, or even look at you. “You won’t.”

You were able to make it halfway across the lawn before the grief fully hit. By the time you got to your car you were gasping like you were no longer able to breathe. And the minute your car door shut you broke, a wailing sob bursting from your lips as you bury your face in your palms. 

Again. It happened again. And it’s just as crushing as every other time, except now it feels like you never healed from the others and now they are all piling on top of the other with this one as the final blow.

Why. WHY? Was there something wrong with you? Why were you never enough? Why couldn’t you make them stay? What did you do to keep having to go through this? It almost killed you last time, your eyes squeeze shut as you remember the look on your parents face as they watched you writhe on your bed screaming and crying hysterically from your latest breakup.

And why did you let yourself fall into it again, like you had never learned a goddamn thing. It was like you were masochistic, you told yourself you would never need someone again so badly, you wouldn’t enmesh yourself so fully that when it fell apart you could barely function. Your heart was once again ripped out of your chest and thrown to the floor, the cracks from before making this shattering into pieces so small you know it can’t get repaired again.

With a trembling whimper, you pull your face out of your hands and wipe your eyes, your nose. You realize you’re still sitting in Frankie’s driveway and you immediately look to see if he's at the window, concerned for you. He isn’t. You hate yourself for it but it breaks you even more. 

It’s over.

You drive home mindlessly, your Spotify on shuffle and you aren’t aware of anything else. Just get home. Just get home and then you can cry, try to move on. But you already know you won’t. 

You finally tire yourself out of tears, and you try to talk yourself up, turning up the music and chanting “it’s okay” to yourself. 

It’s Coldplay. You always liked Coldplay. 

When you're too in love to let it go

But if you never try, you'll never know

Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you…

Tears stream down your face

When you lose something you cannot replace

Tears stream down your face, and I–

You slam the on/off button so hard you actually cause the auxiliary cord to malfunction, so you rip it out of your phone and throw the damn thing on the passenger seat. You drive home in silence.

It’s dark in the lot when you arrive. You park in a spot along the side and towards the back because the lot is mostly full. The only light shining is the pole yards away, the bulb switches off and on opposite of the dark one right above you. 

You feel numb. You can still feel sticky dried tears on your face, but your ability to utter a sound is gone. You close your eyes and try to compose yourself, simply sitting in your car in the dark. You’re avoiding going upstairs, you know. You’ve pretty much been living at Frankie’s. Walking through that door would make it feel too ‘official’. You cover your face with your hands and rub the tears tracks off your raw face, and are about to take a breath and gather your shit when a THWACKING sound bursts right in your left ear.

You startle with a yelp and look out your window, prepared to tell off whoever is messing with you, but freeze when you find yourself face to face with the barrel of a gun, the only thing separating you from it is the shitty window glass on your cheap car.

»»———————►

Post A/N: Don't yell at me lol

#fix you fic #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal x fem!reader #triple frontier fanfic

[genderfluid-insomniac]

“Little Seizures” Six Eared Macaque x reader x Sun Wukong & MK

Note: I don't know what to put as an intro but this is based on my experiences with epilepsy as I've had it for a year and a half. Seizures are fucking annoying and I don't see much epilepsy content in fanfiction so I did it myself. Enjoy!

P.S. This may not be accurate to your unique experiences because I based it off of general epileptics.

You had gone with MK to Flower Fruit Mountain for his training and you volunteered to keep an eye on him to make sure he didn’t mentally drain himself. Maybe there was another reason that you had but it totally wasn’t about your friend’s two mentors were in the process of courting you and how all the citizens of the mountain were adorable fluffy monkeys. Speaking of which a few of them were sitting on your back and picking through your hair for bugs to which they’d unfortunately for them find none of. But some others were sitting around you eating the fruit you’d given them. “Guys I hate to tell you but you won’t find anything but you’re more than happy to have a mango, peach, or banana.”

“Lotus, don’t you want to feed me a piece of fruit?” You must have jumped at least 3 feet in the air as some of your companions cried out at your reaction and the new demon by your side. Groaning you playfully hit his arm and rolled your eyes as Macaque laughed at your amusing reaction. Some monkeys chirped and moved over to him, climbing his black fur and settling in on his head for grooming. You looked at your friend who was still training with both his mentors and back at the shadow demon who was now smirking at you. “Shouldn’t you be fighting MK and Wukong without using a shadow clone?”

“Yeah but eating sweet fruit and spending time with you is much better.” Taking a bite of a banana and glancing at you with a raised brow, growing concerned at the lack of response from you and how you swayed. You guessed at least. All you could see or feel was the room growing darker and everything feeling like the ground beneath you was shaking (and not from the huge battle going on just a few yards away). Bits of conversation could be heard as all of your senses faded in and out, one dark fuzzy outline holding you surrounded by little white ones and two tanish ginger figures running over to you.

“What’s….to….?” Your body grew tired and all of a sudden you wanted to sleep, tiny hands poked your cheek in alarm and worriedly cried out to someone. “Name!……me-“ “They just…..passed out….. shaking-“ “Macaque…. keep….. still….. King get…..much water….” There wasn’t anything you could hear after that, only having the feeling of falling asleep like any other night. Your entire body felt like lead and gravity was ten times stronger, barely able to open your eyes and speak anything except for a single word. “Fuck.”

Hearing was one of your first senses to come back and touch wasn’t far behind, feeling a warm body supporting your back as you rested against them. “Ha. Glad to see you’re awake! You have all of us a scare!” Sun Wukong was the person holding you. Not that you could see him but his voice was enough of a hint. “The kid was worried sick pacing around and muttering about how he should’ve noticed. I’m guessing this is something to do with the thing MK said about having pepsi or something?” You weakly laughed and tried to sit up, only to be gentle pushed back down.

“Easy, peaches. From what I could see and what Mac heard, it sounds like your body short circuited. MK! They’re awake bud!” No doubt your friend hadn’t strayed far from you given his already anxious worry about you and your disorder but he cared and you were thankful for it. “Epilepsy.” He looked down at your comment. “Hm?” You went to clarify, sti fatigued from your body’s strange method of expending your built up energy. “It’s called Epilepsy. It basically like my brain overloads from time to time which causes me to do that.”

An anxious loud voice called your name and your turned your head to see MK, looking up at Wukong and hearing his whisper. “I’m glad your okay. Nearly thought Id lost you.” His vibrant tail circled your wrist comforting, and looking back over to his successor. “NAME!” The wind was knocked out of you by MK tackle hugging you and spewing apologies with teary eyes. You loved him dearly but he apologized for things out of his control and his heart is too kind for the world sometimes. “MK, I need to breathe. I’m okay! You’ve seen me have one of my seizures, I probably just got overly stressed or dehydrated.”

“Let’s give them some space, bud.” Macaque came into your view with a clay cup of what you could guess to be water and used his tail to lift the young adult off you. Handing the water to you and visibly relaxing once he surveyed your appearance. “Happy you’re okay, kid. Sorry if my scare caused this-“ The demon sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and averted your gaze before coming looking back at you. “If I’d known this would happen I never would have jumped you.” You grabbed his hand and smiled, softly chuckling. “I forgive you Mac. It was probably a result of my medication change and thank you for getting me water- Hey guys…”

A bunch of small monkeys crept up behind you all and approached you, climbing on your lap and tugging your shift to grab your attention. “I’m alright. Thank you for your concern!” It was all adorable, watching the ones who were close to you with a bit more boldness quietly make noises at you. Not that you could hear what they were saying but you could tell they were also worried. Both celestial primates make some calls at the young ones who answered back and went back to their day, all except for one. Who ran over to your bag and pulled out a fruit, offering it to you. “Thanks buddy. I need to energy.”

#lmk sun wukong x reader #lmk x reader #lmk macaque x reader #lmk macaque #lmk sun wukong #lmk qi xiaotian #lmk mk #lmk mk x reader #lego monkie kid #tw: epileptic content

[hollybell51]

Gentleman

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Sam Winchester x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005), s03e02 “bloodlust”

Word count: 4.6K

Summary: you and Sam don't exactly see eye to eye with Dean's new friend, so you return to the motel by yourselves. Things... escalate.  

Content: smutty smut smut! Shameless, loving, gentle porn with a bit of a plot. Tooth rotting sappiness and fluff. Bit of hurt/comfort, bit of angst. Reader is just so in love with Sam (I am too dw). Sam is down horrendously bad for the reader (I'm horrendously down bad for him. I cannot emphasise this enough). Use of (Y/N), but not too much. Hickeys, making out, extremely light switchiness (barely noticeable, just healthily flexible dynamics), blowjobs, handjobs, fingering, safe sex, vaginal sex. Hugs all round (someone needed to give these boys one), Dean and the reader get along, Dean has like one soft moment, there's quite a bit of reminiscing and stuff. Gordon's vibes are Off. As above, set during season 2 episode 3.

Notes: HAPPY NEW YEAR MY LOVES! I'm (kinda) back, and my summaries have not gotten any better! Started watching Supernatural and got brainrot. Got lots of stuff planned but probably won't actually write it (sorry). The things I would let these two men do to me is insane like actually insane besties I am not ok. Anyways enjoy the by-product of my suffering, consider this a peace offering as I worm my way into the Supernatural fandom.

Also I have been working sporadically on some requests so if you made one chances are I've seen it and I have started it, but also I have Things in my Life right now that are very Stressful so yeah that's fun but yknow it is what it is, thanks everyone for being so supportive and patient with me xx

To say you were uncomfortable would have been an understatement. It wasn’t just how easily Gordon was talking about what had happened, or the too-bright light in his eyes as he recounted it, or Dean’s ease with the whole thing. It had been a freaking execution! And sure, the guy was a vampire, but the way the saw had just chewed right through his neck, the kicking of his legs as he’d died, the blood spraying over Dean’s face… yeah. As Sam had put it, decapitations weren’t really your idea of a good time. And it certainly wasn’t something you felt like laughing about over drinks. 

You could see Sam’s leg bouncing slightly, his face blank as he stared at the beer he was nursing. Your own stomach twisted with unease. Chances were, if he was on edge, so were you. The emotional interplay wasn’t new, and in fact, Dean gave you endless shit about it. “I don’t know what’s up with you,” he’d say. “I just gotta thank God I don’t develop some freaky emotional feedback loop with every girl I bang.” 

Now, Sam glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. You screwed up your nose. Not enough to be too noticeable, but enough to let him know you thought something was a bit off too. He nodded almost imperceptibly. 

“What’s up with you two?” Dean asked, frowning at your practically untouched beer. 

You shrugged. Sam shrugged. 

Dean rolled his eyes, taking a mouthful of his drink before turning to his new friend. “I swear,” he said, “they read each others' minds. He’s grumpy, she’s grumpy. She’s happy, he’s happy. I reckon if she stubbed her toe, he’d be limping.” 

Gordon barked a laugh, raising his eyebrows. “That so?” 

“Dean, come off it,” you sighed. 

He shook his head, smiling. “Lighten up, both of you.” 

You opened your mouth to say something about how you didn’t think lightening up was really appropriate given the circumstances, but the scraping of Sam’s chair cut you off. 

“I’m not gonna bring you guys down,” he said. “I’m just gonna go back to the motel.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed as he glanced at you, “I’m a bit tired.” 

Dean frowned. “You sure?” 

You nodded, standing. 

“Ok,” he shrugged. “Seeya.” 

“Seeya,” you smiled tightly, then passed him your unfinished beer. “You want this?” 

“You’re not taking it?” 

You shook your head. “Not in a beer sort of mood.” 

He gave you a searching look, then shrugged again and took the drink. “Sure.” 

“Thanks, Gordon.” You nodded to the other hunter. As much as you felt off about him, you didn’t need to be rude. 

He inclined his head back to you. “My pleasure.” 

Sam’s hand settled on your back as you joined him by the door, and you cast a final glance back at the two men remaining at the table. 

“Sammy!” Dean called, the car keys jingling in his hand as he tossed them to his brother. “Remind me to beat that buzzkill outta you later, alright?” 

Sam caught them with ease, Gordon’s enquiry of “something I said?” chasing you out the door. Hell yeah, it was something he said. It was everything he said.  

“Jesus,” you grumbled, shivering in the cold air. 

Sam snorted, absently shrugging off his jacket and handing it to you. Equally thoughtlessly, you put it on. It had become something of a routine. Sam didn’t exactly get too cold very often, but you did. He was many things, and “gentleman” was pretty high on the list by you reckoning. 

“I don’t know about all of this,” he said, feet crunching on the gravel as he headed towards the car. “Something’s…” 

“Off, yeah.” You swung into the passenger seat, arms crossed firmly over your chest. 

“I can’t quite–” The engine cut him off for a moment, but he didn’t finish the sentence anyway. It didn’t matter.

“I know, it’s a brain itch.” 

Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Tell me about it. Seatbelt,” he added as the car rolled out of the parking lot, another habit between the two of you. You could have sworn you’d have been dead years ago if you hadn’t had someone reminding you to use the damn things, a fact that both Winchester brothers were not afraid to attempt to drill into you. They hadn’t had much success. 

You hummed as you clicked the strap across your body, shrinking further down into the seat. You were feeling better now that you weren’t sitting across from Gordon, now that it was just you and Sam. You loved Dean, of course you did, but Sam was just so easy to be around. The two of you clicked, simple as that, and you adored it. 

“I’m gonna call Ellen,” Sam said decisively, frowning at the road. “Maybe she knows him.” 

You nodded. “Mhm, good idea.” 

You were still humming – the melody from something that had been playing on the drive that day, you thought – as you entered the motel room, gulping down a glass of water before jumping onto the kitchen counter. Your heels made a dull thud, thud, thud, on the cupboards as you swung them, the zipper of Sam’s jacket swishing over the cheap vinyl. You watched him take a seat on the bed and dial Ellen. 

You listened idly to his side of the conversation, eventually sliding off the counter top and coming to sit behind him on the bed. You rested your head on his shoulder, sighing. It had been an oddly long day. 

“But I thought you said he was a good hunter,” he was frowning. 

You thought you heard her say “Hannibal Lecter”, and frowned too. Shit, was Gordon some kind of serial killer? You hoped not. 

Sam’s back was warm under your cheek, but his shoulders were tense. The last few weeks hadn’t been easy. You hadn’t known John Winchester well, but the time you’d spent with him had been… Well, it hadn’t been nice exactly, but you could see the love he had for his sons. You couldn’t imagine going through what Sam had, almost losing his brother and then really losing his father in the space of a week. You thought he was handling everything reasonably well, all things considered.

There’d been one moment, just a few days ago, when you’d thought he might crack. Dean had been out like a light in the back of the car, and you’d reached around to snap a photo of him squished up against the window. You’d laughed at it – he looked ridiculous. When you’d glanced up to show Sam, he was staring straight at the road, a muscle in his jaw twitching. 

“Alright?” you’d asked, and he’d nodded.

You’d frowned. “Want me to drive for a bit?”

This time, a head shake.

He wasn’t alright, you could see that clear as day. “Sam, pull over,” you said softly.

He’d swung the car off the road so abruptly you’d jerked against your seatbelt, simply sitting with his foot on the brake and both hands on the steering wheel.

You’d reached over and put the car in park, switching off the ignition. “Come on,” you’d said, “out.” 

He’d leant against the side of the car, arms crossed, staring out into the field you were driving past. 

“Interesting grass?” you’d asked, bumping your shoulder against his. 

He hadn’t smiled exactly, but his mouth had definitely twitched up a bit at the corner. You’d consider that a win. 

“Seriously,” you’d prodded. “What’s up?” 

“I don’t…” He’d trailed off, picking at a loose thread on his shirt. “I can’t…” 

You’d frowned as he’d shaken his head, looking anywhere but you. You’d told yourself something like this was gonna happen eventually, prepped the whole “I’m here no matter what” speech a thousand times, but now you didn’t really know what to do. The only thing you could think of was to put your hand on his back, rubbing slow, soothing circles like your kindergarten teacher used to do when you were upset. 

Sam’s voice was choked when he finally spoke. “I can’t lose you.” 

Four words, but you were convinced your heart had shattered right there. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, stepping to face him. You took his hands in yours, uncrossing his arms.

“How can you–?” 

You cut him off, shaking your head as you raised his hands to your face and kissed his knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere,” you repeated. “Nowhere you can’t follow.” 

He’d just nodded, pulling you into a tight hug. You breathed deeply, the strong smell of the most recent laundromat’s detergent all around you, your fingers bunched in the back of Sam’s shirt. 

“I’ve got your back,” you whispered. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” he murmured into your hair, “I’ve got yours, too.” 

“Good.” You’d pulled away, smiling as you stretched up to kiss him. It was soft and chaste, but that was all either of you needed. 

Then Dean had woken up and shouted at you to save your “romantic moments” for when you weren’t supposed to be driving. You’d grumbled that he was just jealous, which he’d vehemently denied amongst a lot of vomit noises. But later, as you’d waited for Sam to get back with lunch, he’d put his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to his side. 

“I’m glad he’s got you,” he’d said. “Real glad.” 

“You’ve got me too,” you’d smiled. “Always.” 

He’d just stared at you for a moment, his arm still around you, before he’d cleared his throat and stepped back. “Thanks,” he’d muttered. “‘ppreciate it.”  

Now, with the same softness, you let your hand slide up Sam’s back and across his shoulders, then down his side. You brushed over his chest, down to his stomach, then back up to settle over his heart. You always forgot how big he was until you tried to get your arms around him, then it was like hugging a mountain. You loved it. 

He cleared his throat. 

You smiled, placing a soft kiss where his hair brushed the back of his neck, using your free hand to sweep it away. 

“Ok, yeah,” Sam said to Ellen. He sighed as your lips trailed higher, up under his ear. 

“Mhm, we will.” His fingers curled in the bed covers as you sucked ever so gently at the spot you’d found, the one you knew drove him insane. 

“Yep, alright. Thanks, Ellen.” A forceful swallow as you rubbed slow patterns across his front, nothing but the thin material of his shirt separating your hand from his skin. 

“Ok. Bye.” 

You smiled as the phone beeped, then was thrown to the bed. You eased your hand under his shirt, shivering as your fingers met the warm expanse of his torso. You could touch him like this forever, if you were given the chance. 

“What’re you doing?” he breathed, tilting his head back, baring his throat. 

“Kissing you,” you whispered as you moved down the muscle of his neck, “touching you,” as your hand ran gently over his pectoral, thumb grazing his nipple. 

“Mm, do I get to kiss you too?” 

You smiled. “If you ask nicely, yeah.” 

“Please?” 

“Hm?”

He sighed. “(Y/N), come on.” 

“Nope,” you laughed softly. “Ask nicely.” 

You felt his chest heave under your hand, and you pressed your mouth to his neck again. 

“Pretty please,” he murmured. 

You pretended to be considering this for a moment, dragging it out. Truth be told, you wanted him to kiss you just as much as he wanted to, but God it was fun teasing a bit. Especially like this, when it was you draped over his back, hinting at giving him hickeys, touching wherever you pleased. 

“Go ahead,” you replied. 

Before you could even draw another breath he’d turned and brought his hand up to cup your face, pressing his lips against yours. You let him lick into your mouth, his tongue sliding languidly alongside your own, the faint taste of beer still clinging to him. It was all so soft and gentle and full of care, everything you adored about him. 

He shifted back on the bed, turning to face you. Your hands were still under his shirt, arm still stretched across his body as he pushed against you. 

“I love this on you,” he murmured as his hands found the opening of his jacket, pushing it back over your shoulders. 

You smiled. “You want me to take it off?” 

“And this.” He plucked at the t-shirt you wore underneath, already coaxing it upwards. 

“Alright,” you laughed, batting his hands away. “Patience is a virtue.” 

“Whoever said that clearly never met you.” 

You looked away, hoping to hide the pink you could feel flooding your cheeks. However many times you did this, Sam never failed to get you flustered. You could sense his eyes on you as you stripped yourself of your shirt and his jacket, the intensity of his gaze sending shivers down your spine.

He started to shuffle back further onto the bed, one hand settling on your waist as he leant down to kiss along your jaw. You sighed, your mind halfway made up to just let him keep going like that. But no. 

“Uh-uh,” you said, pushing him gently off you. 

“What do you–? Oh.” 

You smiled as you slid off the bed, kneeling between his legs. You ran your hand up his thigh, deftly undoing his belt and fly. Heck, you’d had practice. “Can I?”

“Yes,” he nodded quickly. “God, yes.” 

You rolled your eyes, gesturing to his pants. “Well you gotta help me out a bit, yeah?” 

“Sorry,” he grinned, shedding them in one smooth motion.

“And those.” You pointed at his underwear. 

“Yes, your highness.” 

“Damn right,” you muttered as you kissed your way up his thigh, nipping gently at the skin of his hip. He smelled of the soap from last night’s motel room, faint but still there, a little sweat from the night’s earlier action. You could taste it where your tongue touched him, and man was it good.

His voice was breathy when he asked, “You gonna keep teasing me forever?” 

“Maybe.” You watched as goosebumps appeared where your breath tickled him, smiling to yourself. 

“Is that what’s got you smiling like that?” 

You sat back on your heels, arms resting on his knees as you looked up at him. He was so gorgeous, the shitty neon lighting of the room glancing off his hair in a kind of halo. You thought your next words through very carefully. 

“No,” you said slowly. “I’m thinking about how your cock’s gonna feel in my mouth. How you’re gonna say my name when I’ve got you so deep down my throat I’m almost gagging. I bet you won’t be able to keep your hands off me, I’ll make you feel so good.” 

Sam’s mouth fell open, his hands twitching where they rested on the duvet. 

“What do you think?” 

He swallowed. “I think I’m not even gonna take you up on that bet, I think you’re right.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Ok then.” You smiled, leaning forward and taking his dick in your hands. It was hard and warm to the touch, already leaking precum. You licked down, then up again, swirling your tongue around the head. 

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Please, (Y/N).” 

“You want me to suck it?” 

“Yes. Please.” 

You shrugged. “Since you asked so nicely.” You sank your mouth down onto him, your hands working what wouldn’t fit. Sam’s thighs tensed, and you moved. You could have stayed like that forever, you thought, just holding him in your mouth. You had half a mind to ask about that, actually. 

Sam moaned, his fingers twisting in the covers as you pulled your head back, then forward again, sucking and licking along his length. You’d wanted to take your time at first, tease him and see how long it took for him to be fisting your hair and moving your head for you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure. 

“Oh my God,” he whispered as you increased your speed, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. His dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, something you might have been embarrassed about in the past. Now it turned you on. 

You moaned, the vibrations jolting Sam’s hips despite his best efforts. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. 

“(Y/N),” he panted. “Shit, (Y/N).” 

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos – before you met him, that was – as his hand finally flew to your hair, his fingers carding through it. He was trying so hard to be gentle, and you loved him for it. 

“You look so hot like that,” he whispered. “How’re you so fucking hot?” 

You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You vividly remembered a conversation you’d had with Sam and Dean in the car once, where Dean had proclaimed that “there are blowjobs, and then there are blowjobs.” Sam had turned and looked at you, raising an eyebrow. Dean had yelled at you both and told you to get a room. What you were doing right now was definitely a blowjob, and you were loving every second of it. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Sam was panting, “(Y/N) oh my God I’m gonna cum.” 

His fingers tightened in your hair, his head thrown back and his cock twitching in your mouth. You went all in, sucking and licking and jerking with everything you had in you. 

Yes, you thought as you swallowed everything he gave you, basking in his muttered curses and groans like they were water and you were a wilted houseplant. This was heaven, right here. Every time you watched him come undone, you were completely convinced it couldn’t get any better than this. And without fail, the next time it did. 

He was still panting as you licked him clean, as gently as you could. His hand had settled on your shoulder, large fingers caressing your skin so tenderly it made you want to cry. 

“You ok?” you asked, sitting back. You patted his knee, watching his face carefully. He was flushed, a light sheen of sweat sticking some of his hair to his forehead. You hadn’t really paid much attention at the time, but now you wished you’d made him take off his shirt too. You loved watching his chest heave as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Ok?” he echoed, opening his eyes. He grinned. “I’m more than ok.” 

You smiled back, licking your lips. “Good.” 

“Come up here,” he said, patting his leg. “And take off your pants.” 

“Magic word?”

“Please.” Then, on second thoughts, “pretty please.” 

You laughed, but got up and shed your jeans anyway. You slid onto his lap, straddling his thigh and wrapping your arms around his neck. He kissed you softly, holding you close against him. The material of his shirt tickled your skin, very noticeably baring you from the silken warmth of his skin. 

“Off,” you said against his lips, plucking at the garment. 

“Off,” he repeated, tracing the line of your underwear. 

Almost perfectly in sync, the two of you shed the offending clothing. 

“I love this,” he whispered as he reached behind you, deftly unfastening your bra and pulling it away from you. He set it aside carefully, almost reverently, then bent his head and fastened his mouth to your breast. “Hey,” he said after a moment, frowning. 

You frowned too. “What’s wrong?” 

His finger traced a delicate circle over your other breast, tapping at a spot just above your nipple. “What’s this?” 

You squinted at the area, then laughed. The faded yellowish bruise wasn’t all that visible, but of course Sam would find it. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s a hickey. From you. From last time.” 

His face cleared. “Shit, didn’t realise it’d last that long. Sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” you smiled. “Makes me think of you whenever I see it.” 

“Maybe I should give you more, then.” 

Your grin widened. “Please.”

“Mm?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Pretty please.” 

“Ok.” He bent once more, sucking a matching spot into your unmarked breast. Then he added another one beside it, and a third right in the middle of your sternum. 

“No more low cut tops, I guess,” you sighed, stifling a moan as he moved downwards with another. 

“Shame,” he murmured into your skin, “I love those low cut tops.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“I’d be insane not to.” 

You laughed, then gasped as he ran his hand up your thigh. 

“Relax,” he said. 

“I’m relaxed, I’m so relaxed.” 

“Your heartbeat says you’re lying.” 

“That’s for you,” you told him, meeting his eyes. “That’s what you do to me.” 

“And this?” His finger darted between your legs, sliding easily with how wet you were. 

“Yeah,” you gasped, “all for you.” 

He cursed softly, then lowered you gently onto the bed. He propped himself half over you, half beside you, his hand stroking down over your stomach, your hips, around your pelvis. 

“Please,” you moaned. “Sam, please.” 

“Please what?” 

“Touch me. Please,” you added as an afterthought. 

“Nice manners,” he noted, rubbing achingly slow circles over your clit. 

You gripped his arm, fingers digging into the muscle as he bent and resumed his assault on your breasts. 

“You take such good care of me,” he continued, his voice muffled slightly by your soft flesh. “You always take such good care of me.”

“Cause I love you,” you whispered. 

“Mhm, you gonna let me take care of you too?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Of course.” 

“Good.”

You whined at the loss of his fingers on your clit, then bit your lip to quiet what would have been a loud moan as he slipped the finger inside you. The heel of his hand ground against your sensitive bundle of nerves, his finger putting just the right pressure in just the right places. You’d be a mess in no time, and you both knew it. 

“Fuck, Sam,” you panted, your back arching as you chased the feeling. 

“Hm?” His chest was warm where it pressed against your side, the muscles of his arm rippling subtly under the skin where your fingers dug into him. His free hand stroked your shoulder, his mouth busy littering your chest with hickeys. You could feel him growing hard again against your thigh. 

“Fuck me?” you half asked, half offered. 

He grunted softly at your words, nodding. “Got a condom?” 

“Mhm, yeah, sure. One sec.” You reached over to your jeans, rummaging in the pockets until you struck gold. Or foil, you supposed. You watched as Sam tore it open and slid it on, as easily as if he was tying shoelaces. He’d gotten stupidly fast at putting the things on, courtesy of the whole “Dean could get back any minute so let’s just be as fast as we can” element you so often found yourselves dealing with. You weren’t complaining. 

“Ready?” he asked, positioning himself between your legs. You rocked your hips gently, feeling his hardness pressed against your dripping centre. 

He nodded, then softly slid inside you. You both gasped at the feeling, the familiar stretch and the warmth of it. It was like he was made for you, the way he fit. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, your fingers twisting in the duvet. 

“Alright?” he asked, and you nodded. 

“Move,” you urged him. He did, slow and gentle. The light was doing that thing with his hair again, and you wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through it. Brush it off his forehead, kiss him there, smooth the faint worry line that seemed to be present more and more frequently. You’d do anything to make it disappear forever. 

“You feel so good,” he murmured, leaning forward to deliver more kisses to your chest. You were gonna have a whole forest of hickeys when you were done.  

“You feel good,” you replied. Your breath was coming short, a light sheen of sweat gathering over your skin even though you weren’t the one doing all the work. 

“Touch yourself,” he encouraged you, “I want you to cum while I’m fucking you.” 

“Shit, ok,” you replied, reaching down and running a finger in tiny circles over your clit. You loved how easily you could give and take control with him, how quickly and smoothly you could switch roles when you wanted to. It wasn’t just in bed, either, and you adored it. You adored him.

Your own hand combined with the steady thrusting of his dick was perfect. You weren’t going to last long, and judging by Sam’s shuddering breaths and muttered curses, your name sprinkled throughout, neither was he. 

“(Y/N), fuck,” he moaned, his abdominal muscles twitching and tensing. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasped as you felt the tightness coiling inside you, more, more, more– “Holy fuck, I’m gonna–” You released with a frantic cry of his name, your spine arching and your legs locking around his hips. You felt yourself contract around his dick, the stuttering of his strokes as he too reached his climax. 

He slowed eventually, coming to a stop as the tremors receded from your body and your brain returned to your head. You were spent, content to lie there with his warm, comforting weight on top of you until the world stopped turning. 

He rolled off you, peeling off the condom and tying it neatly before tossing it to the floor to be disposed of later. You turned to face him, your head resting on his bicep, his other arm draped over your side. His hand stroked your back, soft and loving. 

You smiled as you reached up, sweeping the hair from his face. “You good?” you murmured, cupping his cheek gently. 

He nodded, leaning forward to kiss you softly. You reciprocated, then stretched up and placed a kiss on his forehead. 

“How about you?” he asked. 

“I’m great.” Then you sighed, your thumb stroking tiny arcs across the curve of his cheekbone. “You’re so beautiful,” you whispered. 

“Look at you,” he answered. “You’re so beautiful.”  

You closed the few inches of space between you, pressing your lips to his. “I really do love you,” you said as you pulled away. “So much.” 

He smiled. “I know, I love you too. More than anything.” 

You went to kiss him again, but his phone buzzed and you froze. He groped for it blindly, frowning. You’d both learnt the hard way that if his phone went off and Dean wasn’t with you, it was best to check it. 

Sam snorted, flipping it around for you to see. 

The text, from Dean, was two sentences. “Back in 1/2 hour. Get decent.” 

“Screw you, Dean.” 

Sam laughed, tossing the phone to the side. “I guess we’ve got half an hour.” 

“I’m taking a shower then,” you said. “I saw a vending machine, like, right outside, and I really want a soda right now.” 

“I’ll get you a soda if you let me take the shower with you?” 

“Deal.” You held out your hand as if to shake on it, but he kissed it instead. Yeah, “gentleman” was definitely high up on that list. 

#supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam x reader #smut #female reader #fluff #angst with fluff #second person narration #that means “you” pronouns n stuff #use of yn #hurt/comfort #oversharing in the tags #once more i have to talk about how much i just love him #i want him so bad #i need to like pat his head or something #give him a hug #maybe a little kiss #maybe lots of little kisses #got me giggling and shit #twirling my hair and everything #the things he could do to me #the things i would do to him #oh god your honour i am in love #it hasnt been this bad since my 2018 loki obsession #which coincidentally got me into fanfiction i the first place #but we don't need to talk about that #reader insert #fanfiction

[svtminji]

what were the members reaction to jeongmi’s relationship? were some members rooting for them since the beginning or was totally shocked by the news

omg! this was something i’ve been meaning to start writing, esp. for the jeongmi files, but didn’t really know how to expand from it. the ask really drove me to write this.. so thank u anon !! 🐈‍⬛🐈🤍

٩(^‿^)۶ SEVENTEEN’S REACTION TO JEONGMI’S RELATIONSHIP !

pairing. jeonghan x oc — seventeen x oc

date set. late 2020 / november 2020

word count. 1.1k

warnings. foul language used, one mention of their engagement, mutual pining omg 😫

an. again.. thank u to my anon for asking this ^_^

anon asks related to this. mingyu reaction

LEAST SURPRISED — “oh, okay. yeah we could tell you two liked each other for a long ass time already. i’m surprised you didn’t get together sooner.” ->

seungcheol/s.coups & joshua

ok this two men were like.. thankful that the pair finally had the balls to ask each other out after like 2 years of painful flirting omg. since the 95 line are usually closer to each other, the jeongmi couple had their designated person that they talked to about their love problems. sc&js definitely heard both sides of jeonghan and minji about their “undying love” for each other but didn’t know if it really was that for TWO YEARS STRAIGHT. #1 WINGMEN—“oh hey jeonghan, why don’t you go help out mizu with her tasks. i’m sure she won’t mind you” or “oh sorry about that mizu, but i’m sure jeonghan can help you with that task”— and they would SET THEM UP on dates omfg. the news wasn’t surprising to them at all. to them, they were already a couple with the way they acted towards each other tbh. — “god fucking FINALLY!! it’s about damn time!”

seungkwan & chan/dino

seungkwan. kwannie. chan. channie *violently sobs*. these men rooted for them like children of divorce who went through hell and back to get their parents back even though they never had a divorce but they were just not together or married. in satirical forms, they would ironically call them mom and dad and only to please their ideals, they would respond to it. literally pushed the jeongmi agenda—“ah minji-noona, when are you going to date jeonghan-hyung? what do you mean ‘no?’, he literally throws heart eyes to you whenever you have the chance to speak and you do it as well..”— and they did not fail! news wasn’t surprising, they literally raised seungkwan and chan.. — “see! i told you they were going to date. now give me those $50 bucks right now.” “hyung, are you serious right now..?”

SEMI SURPRISED — “oh, i mean i expected it but i didn’t think it would be so early.” ->

wonwoo

just because this man is quiet, DOES NOT mean he doesn’t enjoy the drama 🙄!! one of the first people to realize what was going on between jeongmi, excluding the fact they smashed before dating each other. actively had told minji to ask jeonghan out but wonwoo never saw it happen rip 💔. he was more worried about the articles that would come out once they were either: 1) exposed, or 2) came out themselves and said it. — “ah. see! i told you everything was going to be alright! i literally told you to ask him and boom.. he beat you to it.”

minghao & vernon

these two could see that jeonghan & minji would eventually get together some day but they didn’t know when. unlike sc, js & chan, they didn’t push much thought into it but supported the jeongmi agenda. they’ve seen the signs of a future relationship, given how minji would act with jeonghan. minji also brought a side out of jeonghan.. ❪ like being babied ❫, and to be honest, hao and vern were like .. “tf when did he get all mushy mushy with mizu..?”. they were surprised to say the least but it wasn’t the biggest news to them ❪ like jeongmi getting engaged ❫.

SURPRISED — “how long did you guys know.. and why didn’t you tell us beforehand!!!” ->

hoshi/soonyoung

he would see the sneaky glances between them during any sort of dance practice. during dance practices, soonyoung is on HIGH ALERT all the time and frankly, he does not want anyone messing up, including his main dancers chan and minji. seeing minji distracted during practice was pretty rare and seeing her this distracted because of jeonghan was even WEIRD. did some investigation but later gave up because he forgot. didn’t help that he got frequent visits from jeonghan ❪ same dorm building in 2020 ❫ and jeonghan would as him some questions about minji. — “what do you mean they’ve been dating? oh, is that why you asked me if minji was talking to anyone?”

dk/seokmin & mingyu

these two were surprised. seokmin was shocked and mingyu fell to his knees ❪ not clickbait, see image at the end ❫. mingyu couldn’t believe he was flirting with a taken woman, still did afterward. they couldn’t believe their eyes and had to take breather. — “so you’re telling me that you two are together? okay. that’s reasonable considering you two were always together. right mingyu? mingyu..?” image at the end.

MOST SURPRISED — “WHAT THE FUCK.” ->

jun/junhui

oh this man LIVES on his phone, spends most of his off days catching up on whatever he missed. sure he’s heard a thing or two about them, especially from minji, and shrugged it off. he always thought that it was weird that minji had a certain feeling for jeonghan but honestly, who wouldnt? so whatever was said about him from her, he honestly did not give a f.. until they announced it. he’s literally the shocked cat meme or wtv cat memes there are now 🙀🙀🙀 literally him. ngl.. he’s the type to forget their dating because he’ll pop in the room and see them pdaing and boom! “what the fuck is going on??” — “what do you mean they’ve been eyeing each other? HOW?”

woozi/jihoon

this man LIVES in his workplace. what makes you think he’s going to understand the emotional love from these two..? though he did find it weird that minji was asking his opinion on love songs she wrote, but didn’t mention it. and why was jeonghan so keen on wanting to learn more japanese..? on the dates they were busy with either music shows or gose, he did notice that they were closer to eachother and found it extremely strange. #was the last one to find out — “so you’ve been telling me that you two have liked each other for how many years? TWO? oh my god.. you better be fucking with me”

EXTRA BONUS: PARENT’S REACTION

DOI HOUSEHOLD ->

mom and dad were NOT surprised at all. the calls made from minji to her parents always ended on a strange note: “so when are you going to ask out jeonghan?” or “are you and jeonghan finally dating or what?”. minji had enough during the early months of 2020, and kept her secret when they finally started dating. — “mariana mizuki cortez doi. why did we have to hear it from the agency that you were finally dating jeonghan..? oh, you better pray that you are not home til the next year.” — though afterward, they were extremely supportive of the young couple.

YOON HOUSEHOLD ->

just like minji’s parents, the yoon parents were NOT surprised. they always regarded minji as a sweet girl and had always told jeonghan to bring her home more often, without the rest of the members. they also pushed the jeongmi agenda onto jeonghan in hopes he would ask out minji sooner or later. after a month or so of dating, jeonghan would eventually tell his parents on what their newfound relationship was built on.

some were short due to the diverse set of reactions!! but here’s jun’s reaction and mingyu’s reaction.

svtminji est 2023

#svtminji #kpop #kpop oc #seventeen 14th member #seventeen oc #seventeen #kpop added member #seventeen added member #seventeen female member #kpop female oc #seventeen x oc #jeonghan x oc #seventeen female oc #kpop x oc #svt:jeongmi #anon:asks #seventeen female addition #kpop female addition #kpopidol #kpop original character #💾 ; minji's relationship #jeongmi:asks

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - PART 12! (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Spanking. (If spanking is not your thing, I have marked those parts with ~ at the start and end of them so you can read past them.) Dom!Elvis and dom/sub dynamics. Sex. ANGST. Jealousy. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 10,660

A/N: We're back, y'all and this part is a MONSTER so you're gonna have to carve out some time (it's what you deserve)! It took on a life of its own, honestly. I really wanted to explore the darker sides of both our Reader and Elvis and their choices. It is important to me in this piece to show that Elvis was a very complex human with very real faults, which can throw some people for a loop if they idealize him or don't know much about him, so be warned.

With that said, the convo between him and Anita in 1961 is real. I transcribed his parts as best I could with the quality of the recording. Hopefully, I did his mood justice in the writing (in terms of how Reader is interpreting it), but if you do choose to listen, I recommend headphones and patience. It's a long one and not a great recording. And once again, depending on your point of view, it shows a not-so-flattering side of EP, so proceed with caution.

Thank you all SO MUCH for your love, patience, and distractions as I've been ill! This community has been so wonderful and it's been amazing getting to know you all better and to be able to share our love of EP in all the ways! 💖

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. I will say I'm a bit self-conscious about this part for a variety of reasons, mainly covid-brain, so be gentle! I'm sorry in advance if it's not up to par.

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone.

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there, though it's not all updated yet!)

Los Angeles, 1961

Walking down the hallway, you cannot help but be drawn to the perturbed sound of Elvis’ unique cadence from beyond the door of the den. It is cracked open just enough for the sound to come through, which must have been a mistake by whoever left last, probably one of the guys. You had seen Red come from this direction not that long ago.

You’d come out to LA at Elvis’ behest to join them all for a visit while he was filming his latest movie. You were happy to see Jack after so much time apart, and you’d instantly gotten swept back up into the Elvis lifestyle while being here, though it was moderately toned down considering his filming schedule. It was a nice change from what was becoming a bit of a lonely existence at Graceland. It wasn’t that you were alone, per say, it was just that the other wives were having and taking care of their little ones, which was a constant reminder of a life you couldn’t have. You loved spending time them and with the children—they just weren’t your own.

You certainly don’t mean to snoop, you’d only been making your way through the California villa to the bedroom to grab something out of your bag, but your curiosity wins out. You stop just shy of the door, head bowed, ear to the crack, wondering who has Elvis in such a state. Of course, you can only hear one side of the conversation, but you try to piece together as best you can what might be going on. You know you shouldn’t, but you do anyway.

Elvis responds to the person he’s talking to in an exasperated tone, “You know why—you know why I don’t call you anymore? This very reason, right here. This very reason right here…I-I-I-can’t talk to you, hon. You mess with my damn head, man. I-I-can’t count on a decent conversation with ya. Ya start throwin’ up all kinds of shit to me. Look, if I called you e-e-every damn night, you’d start bitchin about something different. You’re just a fuckin’ nag, that’s all, you’re just a nagger that’s all.”

Your eyes widen at that, at how mean he’s getting with whichever one of his women he’s talking to. You have seen his temper firsthand over the years, but not directed at you and you’ve never heard him talk to a woman this way. After knowing him all this time, this side of him shocks you a bit, and you stay rooted to the spot.

“Well, that’s the way I feel about it, a-a-and y-y-y-you don’t have to be that way either. Not to the extent that you are, you don’t have to be that bad,” he says vehemently. “I just know you’re gonna start throwin’ something up to me a-and I ain’t got time to hear it. You turn me the fuck up, you know that?”

And he certainly is turned up, you think. His annoyance and frustration are coming through loud and clear on this end, punctuated by his stutter. The woman must be talking because he pauses before continuing.

“Yes, all the time. I-I-I can’t stand it, I-I can’t stand it, Anita, I swear I can’t stand it. I call you and do right, my ass,” he says, annoyed. “I do, do right! My ass. If I called you e-every night, you’d start that shit.” Elvis starts mocking her in a whining, high pitched voice, “‘Who’d you see today? You g-got a girlfriend, I’m surprised at you, blah blah,’ that bullSHIT!” He spits it out at her, angrily. “Naw, it ain’t no lie. Naw, you bring it up every time I talk to you.”

Your heart races a bit just hearing the confrontation and at the thrill that you shouldn’t be eavesdropping in the first place. Of course, it’s Anita, you think. He’s been seeing her the longest of any of his girlfriends, even through Germany. You are friendly with her, but not very close. Although she is always nice to you, she has an air about her that rubs you the wrong way. Not that you’d ever show it, but she just seems a bit self-important to you, what with her beauty queen titles and flitting up to New York or out to Hollywood for her singing or acting. She is a little too pretty, a little too nice, and sometimes it just feels underhanded.

Or maybe you’re just jealous, a niggling voice in the back of your mind says.

You scoff at that. Jealous of what? Sure, it seemed like she had a glamorous life, what with all the things she did, and how beautiful she is, and being the girlfriend of THE Elvis Presley, but you know better than that. And right now it sure doesn’t seem like you have much to be jealous of, considering the way he’s talking to her. She’s been around four years, and there is still no true commitment from him. At least you have a husband who loves you and you are a permanent fixture in Elvis’ inner circle, giving you a leg up in this situation, you think a little haughtily.

Good god, what is wrong with me? Why am I being so petty?

You don’t have an answer to that.

Obviously, Anita is not happy, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Anita’s not dumb, even though she can play that part if needs be. She knows he’s seeing other women, and just because you’re not her biggest fan doesn’t mean she deserves to be treated poorly, by him or anyone else.

The thing is, you realize suddenly, even though he is likely in the wrong, you are still going to take his side in the end because he’s your friend. And that thought surprises you a little bit. But at the same time, there is anger starting to simmer in your chest at his poor behavior, at the way he keeps some of the women in his life hanging, waiting with bated breath to see if they will be the one to win his undying and singular attention.

You, of course, know better. Elvis is needy and fickle and loves being adored by as many women as possible. If there is one thing he’s addicted to, it’s girls. But he would no sooner give up his freedom to love as many of them as possible than he would to give up his career. Not to say that he doesn’t genuinely care for some of them; in fact, he is overly loving and demonstrative in some ways. It’s just that the standards for his love seem different than anyone else’s, and he gets away with things he might not otherwise because of who he is. But in your experience, the girls all figure it out eventually, and it seems like Anita is finally getting there.

It sounds like she is giving Elvis the business about it, which he doesn’t like one little bit.

“Why can’t you be sweet instead of bitchin’ like an old naggin’ ass wife, huh?” you hear him say, a little viciously, your eyes going wide. “I can’t stand that, I can’t stand it. Baby, you’ve got me crazy, you know that? You get worse a-all the damn time, a-and th-th-that’s why I don’t talk to you on the phone.”

You really, really should leave and get your nose out of his business, but it’s like you’re incapable of getting your feet to move. You’re mad at him for speaking this way to her, even though she likely IS nagging, you know it’s for good reason. She is right. He wants to have his cake and eat it, too, and he does not like being called out on it.

You hear him backtracking now, almost wearily telling her how much he loves her, over and over. The man doth protest too much. And the way his stutter pops up now, it sounds more like a child covering a fib than agitation. But you hate to assume.

“I told ya that I’m in love with ya. I-I-I-I-I-if I—if I—if I didn’t love you, I tell ya, I wouldn’t waste my time with you. I don’t have to,” he rebounds bluntly, harshly, then recovers quickly, “Well, I-I look forward to being with you, and I-I think about you a lot. But because I don’t call you three or four times a damn week, you say to me ‘Why don’t you…?’” His nastiness gets the better of him again, as he starts to mock her, but then he stops, his frustration evident. “Aw, HELL. I tell ya how I felt aboutcha, you oughta know how I feel. I mean, three long years, w-we’ve been battling this back and forth this same thing. You know I love you, darlin’.”

It all sounds rather unconvincing to you, as he seems to bounce so quickly from one emotion to the other. Maybe he believes it, you think, but you don’t think she’s buying it, not by the way he continues to reassure her, nearly pleading in some moments, and calling her pet names before that indignant tone returns to his voice. Even from out here, you can feel just how hard he’s trying to be patient, trying to placate her, with the many declarations of his love.

Silence falls for a moment, and you wonder what she must be saying to him, whether she’s falling for this or if she’s just as disbelieving as you are. You think she might be coming around based on how his voice changes yet again, how he’s both gentle and matter of fact, then his tone becomes almost boyish and sad.

Suddenly, you hear footsteps coming down the hall towards you. In a complete panic, you nearly jump out of your skin before looking around frantically for an escape. Desperate, you fling yourself into the room across the hall, but in your excitement, the door slams behind you.

Your hand pops to cover your mouth, as if this action alone will have kept anyone from hearing the door.

There is silence for a moment before you hear Elvis shouting, muffled, “Cliff? Cliff!”

Your heart thunders in your chest as you chastise yourself for being so damn stupid as to be eavesdropping on Elvis of all people, then you say a silent prayer that no one finds you as you hear more footsteps and another door slam. The footsteps head away, and with shaking breaths, you slowly open the door to find the hallway empty once more.

You tell yourself you are gonna skedaddle right out of there and go on with your business, but then you hear Elvis lay into her yet again:

“I-I-I love you very much a-and q-quit-quit-quit bitching and nagging me so much. I get so mad, I could break your neck.” That takes you aback, the way he just throws the phrase at her before going back to imitating her meanly, “’I can’t help it, I can’t help it! I can’t help it!’” W--w-w-w-what are you gonna do when I’m nuts and in an asylum?” Then he mumbles something you can’t understand but you hear him chuckle before he sighs big and loudly.

He's telling her he loves her but in a way that makes it obvious that he wants off the phone. She’s not having it based on the silence from his end.

Then he’s back to talking real nice and low to her, seemingly contrite and sorry, his stutter emphasizing it all. The stutter gives him away, you think, though you aren’t sure if it’s more agitation at her or that he’s feeling guilty. Perhaps it’s both.

“Well, m-maybe I’m not doing my part right now, but I mean give me a chance, you know. Just give me a chance. Don’t-don’t-don’t worry, j-j-just give me a chance, I-I, it’ll all come out in the long run. Okay? Take my word for it, hon, I wouldn’t lie to you. I love you, Anita.” A pause and then he giggles, “I’ll enjoy it. I love you very much darlin’. I do, Anita, I do…w-w-w-why would I lie to you, baby? I-i-if i-i-i if I’m l-l-l-lying…” he says, his stutter so bad now it’s hard to understand anything he’s saying.

You internally scoff at this. He’s been lying to her for years. But part of you wonders if he truly believes it will all turn out for them in the future. He is something of an idealist, after all. Maybe he really does fear losing her. Maybe that stutter is betraying his nerves rather than his guilt.

You aren’t sure how you feel about the prospect of him actually settling down, especially with Anita. For one, you don’t think it’s in his nature, but two, something about him doing it turns your stomach. You can’t pinpoint why, exactly, but the idea of him being married with little ones running about Graceland makes you want to scream.

You quickly push that thought out of your head, convincing yourself that your broiling frustration at him has more to do with his treatment of Anita than anything else. If he loves her and needs her so much, maybe he should just tell her the truth. You continue to listen in as he talks baby talk to her and emphasizes just how much he really will call her more, and then you hear him yawn.

“Hell, I’m tired. Oh, yeah. You do? You do? Well don’t sound so damn serious. How much you love me? How much you love me? Maybe? Baby? I love you. I love you. I wish, I wish, I wish I was with you,” he says, weary and tired of the conversation. There are long moments of silence, and you wonder what she is saying or if she’s hung up on him.

“I gotta go. There ain’t no party, I just gotta go. I’ll talk to ya later. I will. Don’t throw up more ideas…” He starts that terrible imitating of her again, “’I can’t! I can’t help that!’ I could slap your face right off.” He laughs through the rest now, and you know him well enough to know he’s being an asshole, provoking her. You can practically hear her shouting through the receiver, she’s yelling so loud.

“I think you’ve lost your damn mind. Yeah, ya have,” he says gently, quiet but cutting. Then he continues to chuckle, seemingly finding her agitation amusing. “Well…we’ll see. I’ll talk to ya later. Okay? Okay? Take care honey, be patient. Alright. Take it easy. Bye.” You hear the receiver click as he finally hangs up the phone.

You’re fuming now, a bit off the rails considering none of this has anything to do with you, and you know it. The gall of him to behave that way when he knows he’s in the wrong, that he is lying to her. For god’s sake, he is having a party right now and there are girls here that you know were invited by him for a particular purpose, and he’s over here telling Anita how tired he is and how crazy she is when she is right all along.

The now-small logical part of your brain is screaming at you to leave and to get your nose out of his business before you do something stupid, but instead you listen to Elvis as he lets out a huge sigh that ends in a frustrated growl.

“Who in the hell is out there lurking in the hallway?” you hear him shout out of nowhere.

Shit.

Your heart pounds, knowing you are caught, and you are mad enough that you refuse to run away. You take a deep breath instead, pushing the door open slowly.

Elvis looks up through his dark lashes from behind the huge mahogany desk, his hands steepled and his jaw set. Surprise flashes over his features when he lays eyes on you, his left eyebrow shooting up, but his eyes quickly return to a steely blue, hardening.

“How much did you hear?” There’s no preamble, no beating around the bush, no charming quip.

You consider lying for a moment. “Enough,” you finally say, knowing lying would be futile—he knows you well enough to see through your deceit. You are angry enough at him for it to show on your face.

“Hmmm. Mmm hmm,” he tuts, seemingly disappointed in you, his anger still simmering just below the surface. “What the fuck were you thinkin’, listening to my private conversation?” It comes out frighteningly low and biting.

You open your mouth to speak, but before anything gets out, he’s yelling, “What is it with the goddamn women in my life sticking their noses where they don’t belong?!” You cannot help but flinch at his outburst, even as angry as you are.

Elvis gets up so fast and so violently the rolling chair he’s sitting in flies backwards, hitting the bookshelf behind him. Rounding the desk, he advances on you, and you stumble, countering by stepping back. With his dark hair and flashing eyes, his features both soft and severe all at once, his natural beauty is intimidating.

Already angered by his conversation with Anita, he is teetering right on the edge of fury, on that blinding temper of his. Which is why you have no idea what comes over you next.

“So, how’s Anita?” you ask sardonically. A small part of you is hoping that your sarcasm will deescalate the situation. It does not. More likely, for whatever reason, you have this urge to push him right over the edge. He’s never turned his temper on you before, and his temper can be blindingly terrible, yet still you persist.

“Don’t be insolent. It doesn’t become you, y/n,” he seethes, his soulful eyes now a churning, hard, steely blue, like the northern Atlantic during a storm.

You continue anyway, “You should just tell her, E. She obviously suspects what you’re doing, wouldn’t it just be easier—"

“I didn’t ask for your fuckin’ opinion!” he shouts at you. Your heart begins to pound in your ears, along with the ringing of his voice, but you are stubborn as hell and pissed off, too, so despite all the warning bells, you keep going.

“You’re right, you didn’t, but I’m telling you anyway as your friend and as a woman who knows—and more so because no one else will dare to call you on it—” you shoot at him, trembling with anger, “Being cheated on and then being lied to and made to feel crazy about it when you know something is wrong is awful. That’s why she’s nagging you all the time. You are making her feel crazy. You should either tell her or leave her, Elvis, but this isn’t right.” You let out a breath, your body hot with anger and you are surprised at your boldness.

“Aw, hell, y/n, you gonna be bitchin’ and naggin’ now, too, huh?” he barks, his eyes flashing.

More words, ones you didn’t expect to speak, come rolling off your tongue. “Why are you hanging on to her if you are just gonna constantly screw around behind her back? How can you really love her and do that to her? You have to know after all this time that she wants you to marry her, but I think we both know that’s not going to happen, is it? What exactly is the point of all this, then, Elvis?”

You expect him to scream at you again and you brace for it. But instead, he steps closer, cornering you. Anger is rolling off him in waves but now it’s tempered by something else, too. Something heavy and thick that starts to suck the air from the room as his deep eyes lock onto yours, unwavering.

“Why y/n, you sound almost jealous.” It comes out smooth, too smooth, with a dark chuckle as he takes one more bold step into you. Your back hits the wall, breath catching at the insinuation.

“W-what? No,” you eek out defensively, in a voice far too high for your liking. You feel your cheeks flush. You know objectively what he’s trying to do, distract and deflect blame for his situation off him and onto you. It’s manipulative but effective because you are flustered beyond repair now.

And maybe because there’s a little truth to it, that small voice from earlier adds. Though you have no idea how Elvis may have pulled that deep thought, one that you barely acknowledged yourself, from the deep recesses of your brain.

Faltering under the pressure of his gaze and the closeness of his lean body practically pressing up against yours, you try to skirt around him.

He slams his hand onto the wall next to your head and you wince as his arm blocks you in. You’re breathing hard now, feeling something between shock and fear and exhilaration as his beautiful face comes too close to yours, forcing you to turn back to him.

Elvis will not be ignored.

“I’m not sure I believe you, baby,” he purrs. “Why else would you be snooping into my private romantic business?” His nose almost grazes your face, tantalizing, the scent of his Old Spice filling your nostrils, consuming you. You realize you’ve never been this close to him, not like this.

Maybe there’s a good reason for that.

Your heart drops into your stomach, but you roll your eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” you respond, glaring at him. It sounds almost convincing.

Elvis chuckles meanly, not believing you, his lip curling into a grin, but the smile doesn’t meet his eyes. He’s a panther stalking his prey, and you have come crashing into the jungle, demanding his attention. 

His wrath is laced with something fervently sexual, and anything sexual coming from Elvis is ten times what it might be from another man. It’s intoxicating in the worst way possible, clouding your thoughts, distracting you from your frustration at his behavior. It’s as though, over time, he’s learned to wield his charismatic essence and his sexual energy into a weapon, one which he is now turning on you.

You realize you are in way over your head, but you’ve left yourself no room to backpedal out of this.

Elvis’ icy eyes roam over your face. For a moment you think he might close the gap between you two and press those pillowy lips to yours. For a moment you allow yourself to wonder if they feel as soft as they look, if they taste as sweet as you imagine.

What would he do if it were you that closed the gap? Would he be shocked out of his rage and pull away? Or would he kiss you back? Would you want him to?

Guilt washes over you, a cold shock, in response to these thoughts. What in the hell is wrong with me today?

But right now, cornered as you are, you feel like you might do almost anything to get out of this intense limbo he has you trapped in. You decide to call him out and see what happens.

“Oh, please, Elvis. Does this bull work on all the girls?” you hum almost nonchalantly, even though your heart is galloping, but it has the desired effect. He bites his tongue and shakes his head, leaning back from you. “What, you think you can just try and beguile me, of all people, and I’ll forget about what a jerk you’re being?”

“That’s not—,” he begins, through gritted teeth.

“Oh, shut it,” you interrupt, even more mad now after calling him out on his bad behavior for the second time. “I have half a mind to call Anita up myself after the stunt you just pulled!”

“The hell you will!” Elvis growls, eyes heated, yanking you by the arm towards the desk. “I’ll teach you what happens when you stick your nose where it don’t belong.”

~

You yelp in surprise as he pulls you over. It all happens so fast; you barely resist because your brain doesn’t comprehend what’s happening until he’s planted himself on top of the desk and bends you over his knee.

“Elvis, what are you…?” you yell. He cannot be serious, there is no way he will—

The first smack hits your backside hard. You choke in shock, not just at the sting but at his audacity. You are frozen, speechless, until you realize he’s aiming to do it again. You try to wriggle off his leg, flailing your arms for purchase, but he is much stronger than you. His arm clamps down on your back, holding you fast.

“Elvis!” you shriek at him, “Don’t you even think about—!” The second smack lands harder than the first, on the other cheek, and you squeal, kicking your legs.

“You gonna stay outta my business, y/n?” he asks.

“Goddamnit, Elvis!” you hiss, trying to glare back at him, but he holds you fast.  

“Takin’ that as a ‘no’,” he muses, and you can hear the smirk in his voice as he brings down his hand again. You yelp again, then grit your teeth. He’s not going easy on you, though you are absolutely sure he’s not anywhere at full strength, either. He’s not truly trying to hurt you. While your dress is softening some of the blow, it still smarts, sending your eyes watering.

You are livid, but much to your shock, you are also finding yourself exhilarated, stimulated. Your heart races and you have no idea what’s gotten into you. It’s like everything you’ve done in the last thirty minutes—poking your nose in where it didn’t belong, becoming so angry at him, pushing all of his buttons on purpose—was some strange way to get here. Not that you knew, not at all, that this would be your punishment, but it was almost as if you were crying out for his attentions all along.

This realization stuns you into stillness, and you barely register him talking to you again.

“I can do this all day, y/n, until you tell me what I need to hear,” he says in a sing-song voice. He’s enjoying it, his anger still there, but no longer at the forefront of his intent. No, now he is entirely focused on getting you to cry uncle.

You are stubborn and silent, though still reeling with confusion from your realizations of what got you here, slung over Elvis Presley’s knee, and that you, too, might be enjoying this, but in all the wrong ways. When his hand slaps your ass this time, you bite back the sound that wants to come forth, because it is no longer one of shock. Never in a thousand years do want to admit that you are relishing the feel of his hand on you like this, that the sting is having the opposite effect of what he wants or what either of you expects. It is wrong in so many ways.

Your lack of response must confuse him because you feel him hesitate in the slightest. You are unsure what comes over you, other than the impulse that you don’t actually want him to stop, which means he definitely should stop, but you can’t let him know why and instead it all comes out jumbled. The intended, “Elvis, please don’t!—Stop!” somehow (perhaps a little less than subconsciously) turns into a breathless, pleading for him to continue, “Elvis, please…don’t…stop.”

And though you feel his leg tense under you slightly, the only outward indication that he takes it any other way, he indeed does not stop. You squirm at the last second, realizing your mistake. And when his hand lands this time, fingers splayed wide, he hits decidedly lower and more centered than before. There is no way to know if it is purposeful or accidental, not that it matters in this moment because you cannot help the way your fingers dig into his thigh and the embarrassing moan that escapes your lips when he slaps your center along with your ass.

There is no denying what that sound meant. There’s no way to play it off or pretend it didn’t happen. You are fully aroused and completely mortified.

And Elvis knows it. You know he does by the way he stills, how his other hand clenches your dress at your waist, how you can feel his chest heaving along with your own in the thick, heavy silence that comes after.

For a moment, you wonder if he will push, if he’ll try to continue under the guise of this insane game, and a shameful part of you almost wants him to, wants to see how far you’ll both go, but that thought is fleeting.

~

He releases you, and you scurry off his lap as though he is on fire. And he might as well be with that tell-tale twinkle burning in his crystalline eyes, which are no longer stormy with anger but brimming with amusement and surprise and curiosity and heat. Then, as if he can’t help it, those pink lips pull up into a wide, cheeky smile, his tongue peeking out between his teeth and the tip touches his top lip. The look is somewhere between bashful and positively sinful.

You smooth your dress frantically with your hands, your face burning. Flustered beyond repair, you swipe at your watering eyes, feeling the heat scorch through your body. You are so utterly embarrassed that you could cry. Neither of you speaks at first (what in god’s name can you say??), but Elvis starts to giggle—giggle—that hiccupping little laugh of his that you know will spiral into a fit if he really gets going.

“Don’t you…don’t you dare laugh at me, Elvis Presley!” you sputter and stamp like a child, pointing at him, but his face is going red now and he’s starting to lose it.

“I’m-I’m n-n-not! I just c-can’t…” he stutters before he erupts into full blown belly laughs.

“Oh, my god,” you cry, bringing your hands to your face. You are both livid at him and mortified at yourself, but the situation is completely ridiculous and his laughter becomes contagious. “I swear to god, this isn’t funny!” you wail, fighting back your own laughter.

This just sends him into fresh peal of laughing, and he doubles over.

You finally break down, laughing, too. “Shut up!” you yell, but all the sting is out of it with your own giggles. “This is all your fault!”

“MY fault?!” he cries, trying to catch his breath, tears leaking from his eyes.

You don’t have an answer to that. You know it’s very much on both of you, especially you.

Finally, the laughter starts to die down and you both are wiping at your eyes and catching your breath. Silence starts to hang heavy again, but you break it with ferocity.

“Let’s just pretend that none of this ever happened, okay? I’ll forget everything I heard, and you’ll forget…the rest of it, and we’ll never, ever speak of this again,” you say seriously, with conviction. “Deal?”

As absurd as the whole situation is, you both know there are very real consequences, for both of you, if any of what’s transpired leaves this room. The problem is you know he can be terrible at keeping secrets; however, there is no way for him to tell yours without exposing himself. You can see him work through this now that he is calmed down, his blue eyes regarding you carefully.

You force yourself to remain steady under his intense gaze, trying your best to ignore the way your body wants to involuntarily respond to him all the sudden. You need him to know how serious you are because if this somehow got back to Jack, or to anyone at all, you would be humiliated at best and divorced at worse.

Maybe that’s a little dramatic, you think, but it wouldn’t be good for anyone. But it lights enough panic in you to get your head on straight.

“I’m serious, Elvis. Not a word from either of us,” you reiterate, as Elvis’ face has become unreadable. Your body still feels hot and you will your heart to slow, praying that he’ll give you the answer you need so you can get the hell out of here.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally nods, “Not a peep.” He purses his lips and mimes locking them and throwing away the key. You want to roll your eyes, but instead breathe a sigh of relief. You turn, quick on your heel to leave, needing as far away as possible from this whole situation. Far away from him.

“Y/n?” he calls out from behind you as you reach for the door.

Your heart drops into your stomach and you brace yourself for a quip. You turn, not expecting to see the apologetic look on his face that you do. It’s almost childlike in its sincerity, his eyes big and mournful.

“I-I’m sorry I lost my temper. I-I-I shouldn’t have put my hands on you like that,” he says, playing with his ring nervously.

Your jaw nearly drops to the floor. An apology is not at all what you were expecting. You blink a couple of times, your whirlwind of emotions calming for a moment.

“Thank you, E. And I’m sorry for sticking my nose where it didn’t belong. It really is none of my business,” you add, cheeks warming again as you look down, feeling embarrassed for all the reasons, feeling exposed under his gaze.

“Naw, baby, you’re just callin’ it as you see it. You’ve never pulled punches with me, and I don’t expect you to start now,” he replies, lip curling up in a smile.

You nod. “Even so, I’ll do my best to refrain from spying on you in the future.”

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay.” You turn and leave before he has a chance to stop you again. Hurrying to the bedroom you are sharing with Jack, you lock yourself in, lean back on the door, and slide to the floor with your head in your hands.

What in god’s name came over you? Why would you do such a thing? And why in the hell did you like it when he touched you like that? Panic and guilt run through your veins like ice. You push all the thoughts away, as deep and as far as they will go.

Not a word. Pretend this never happened. Nothing is wrong if it never happened.

You repeat it in your head until it sticks.

*

Carrying the black folder with your sheet music, you take a deep breath and take a seat on the stage behind the curtains that hide the backstage from the audience. You’ve never been backstage for one of his shows, and it is bustling with musicians. Your job tonight is to follow along with the Sweet Inspirations and see if you can find your footing in the music while the show is happening. With the volume on stage, no one should be able to hear you from out front.

Nerves flow through you, nevertheless. It’s been a crazy three days with the vocal coach, who has assured you that, yes, you have the capability to do this and are “a natural,” but that you need to work through your stage fright. You’re not sure if it is her idea or Elvis’ to put you backstage during a performance, but here you are, your heart pounding as though you were going on stage with the rest of them.

In those three days, you haven’t seen Elvis alone, either. This has made you incredibly uneasy for a variety of reasons. Part of you is glad because you feel like your head is clearer about the whole affair, that you have some semblance of control, that if you want to end it (and you should) that you can.

However, another part of you craves his attention, missing him desperately, worried that he’s gotten what he wants from you and now is moving on. You keep thinking about how if he’s not spending his nights with you who might be keeping his bed warm instead. This fear is beginning to wreak havoc and is at odds with your logical thoughts. You know you need to get over it, to get over him, that all of this is just for fun anyways. It’s just sex. Nothing other than that was ever promised. He’s free to do what he wants with who he wants.

It's not as though you haven’t seen him, though, it just hasn’t been alone. Between your lessons, his schedule, and Jack seemingly looming everywhere, it’s been hard to steal any time away. As soon as you told Jack you were staying, that Elvis was offering you a job as part of the show, you couldn’t quite get a read on how he felt about it. Jack seemed surprised, a little annoyed, and wary when you told him. You were sure he wouldn’t want you around anymore, but instead he has been more attentive than usual, which has also thrown you for a loop. You don’t know if he suspects something might be going on, but he hasn’t been off cavorting until all hours of the night anymore, instead staying with the guys at the after party every night in Elvis’ suite.

In any case, all you and E have had are a couple of fleeting, longing looks and the occasional touch, which is maddening. He did come to one of your lessons, but remained professional in front of the coach, only giving you a quick peck on the cheek and left a lingering hand at your waist, burning through your dress and threatening to set you aflame right there and then.

During the after parties, where the gang, plus a lucky group of fans (usually pretty, young things), would come up and join you all. You smiled your way through the gatherings trying to appear as normal as possible as the girls flirted endlessly with Elvis, and he flirted back at them. Not to mention the way Jack would look at the girls, too. The whole situation was becoming untenable.

Thank god for Sandy, who always seemed to be there when you needed her, with a squeeze of a hand or a bump of your shoulder, stealing away with you to the bathroom when it all became too much.

But, lucky for you, you at least had a distraction of learning all the music for the show, hence why you are here now, amongst the fervent energy that is building backstage. The Sweet Inspirations just finished their set, and now everyone is waiting on the man of the hour.

You finally see him round the corner, clad in his black herringbone suit, the one you find impeccably flattering on him. He looks gorgeous but is vibrating with nervous energy and seems like he could be sick at any moment, his eyes focused on something only he can see. Involuntarily, you rise out of your chair in his presence, wanting to go to him, to comfort him, but you stop yourself. It isn’t your place, and you don’t want to distract him or possibly make his nerves worse.

Much to your surprise, Elvis seems to sense you, turning to you, and his cobalt eyes light up when they meet yours. He switches gears, much to the surprise of some of the guys, and walks towards you. They don’t follow, which you are glad for. You meet him, desperately wanting to pull him in for a kiss, but everyone seems to be watching. His eyes travel over your face, needy under the fear he’s experiencing.

“You’re here,” he says gratefully, as though it is a surprise that you actually showed up.

“I’m here,” you reply. “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous. But better now,” he says, those big blue eyes blinking at you with an almost shy smile.

“Me, too,” you laugh. God, you want to touch him so badly, it’s like an itch you can’t scratch.

“I miss you,” he whispers, and it nearly breaks your heart with the way it makes it swell in your chest.

“I miss you, too,” you nod breathlessly, “and we’ll talk later, but right now, you need to go out there and kick some ass, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods, taking a deep breath, puffing his cheeks and letting it out slowly. He reaches out and grabs your hand, squeezing it tight, his huge rings cold against your skin. Then he turns abruptly, heads off, and cues the band to start.

Your heart is pounding in your chest. Seeing that side of him, so needy and small, is such a contrast to how larger than life he is as he walks on that stage. It reminds you so much of the young man he once was, so different from the cocky, self-assured man he can be today.

Then the show starts in earnest and you sit back down, realizing you have a job to do and can’t just moon over him the entire show. You do your best to follow the music, humming along, quietly finding the high harmonies to the songs you feel like you’ve heard a million times but are now experiencing differently because you are listening for other things.

You do notice that some of his jokes are falling flat and that the audience isn’t responding as enthusiastically as they could be. Elvis fights for their attention, being the consummate performer that he is, and you can tell he’s a bit ruffled by it.

By the end of the show, you’ve been swept up in the music and it feels like no time has passed, your nerves long forgotten. It’s an amazing feeling, really, as the crowd applauds and the curtain falls and everyone bustles with after-show energy. Even though you weren’t officially on stage, you still feel swept up in the high of it all and it’s invigorating.

Elvis, of course, is soaked with sweat, breathless as the swarm descends with compliments, though he doesn’t smile or seem to believe them even though he nods through them. You know he is a perfectionist in his own right and by his demeanor, he seems agitated by how the performance went. His eyes find yours only briefly, guarded, before he is hustled away. You hide your disappointment in collecting your music and instead focus your energy on conversing with some of the musicians as they pack up their instruments. The mood feels sour, dampened, as Elvis’ displeasure radiates even after he leaves. Your emotions are tumultuous, as you feel neglected, and you are glad when you see Sandy waiting for you so you can go up to the penthouse together.

“How’d it go?” she practically bounces. “How nervous were you?”

“Pretty nervous at first, but after the first song, I just kinda got swept up in the music. It was pretty remarkable, actually,” you reply. “Though E didn’t seem very happy with the show.”

She pulls you along, through the curtains and out into the hallway. “And how is…everything else?” she intones with a knowing look.

You sigh, shifting your music folder to the other arm, looking down. You hurry her along, away from prying ears. “He came up to me before the show and told me he missed me,” you whisper.

“Oooh, really? That’s good, right? Sometimes a man needs to know what he’s missing to really appreciate it,” she muses. “Do you miss him, too?”

“I don’t want to! But as soon as he was there in front of me, I felt like I was gonna come out of my skin to get to him. I’m just…having all these feelings I don’t know what to do with, San,” you fluster. “Every time I think I have a handle on it, something happens to remind me that I’m completely off the rails.”

“You’re not ‘completely off the rails’, y/n. You’ve just got it bad,” she says almost nonchalantly.

“Ugh! I’m desperate to see him alone, and seeing him but not being able to touch him or to do anything that might give us away is hard. Not to mention, all these girls hanging all over him is making me crazy, and Jack seems to be everywhere under foot all the sudden, which is even more maddening. Oh, I need to end this. I can’t keep doing this,” you whine.

“Listen to me, we are just gonna go upstairs and hang out with everyone just like normal, okay? And we’ll try to get you two alone at some point. I’ll talk to Jerry, okay?” Sandy says, grabbing you by the shoulders. “I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks, babe,” you sigh. “I’m fine, really.”’

Sandy side-eyes you as you both head up to the top floor.

The guys have procured yet another gaggle of women and a few men to join the party tonight. Jack has planted himself next to you, uncharacteristically putting his arm around you. Surprised, you try not to stiffen, reminding yourself that this is your husband and it’s totally normal for him to put his arm around you, but it feels more possessive than affectionate. Or maybe you are just imagining it.

You busy yourself making small talk as you all wait for Elvis to appear. When he does, freshly washed, the smell wafts over you, reminding you of your most recent escapades in the shower. You flush a little at that, hiding your face by taking a drink.

Elvis glances at you only momentarily as he enters. He seems a little off, you think, a little edgy, as he commands the room and finds a seat amongst the girls. Your jaw tenses as they fawn and fall all over him, and he flirts back as though he can’t help it. This makes you insane to watch for the third night in a row. All you can think about is his hands on someone else the way you want them to be on you.

And the more you want Elvis’ hands on you, you instead get Jack’s, which seem to be gripping you at all times in some way. Over your shoulder, on your knee, on your hand…you’re trapped in this tortuous hellscape where you would do anything to get him to stop touching you, but you can’t, you can’t without it giving yourself away.

You are equally trapped as you watch your lover give his attention to everyone but you. Every time Elvis laughs or smiles or his eyes sparkle flirtatiously, or if he touches one of them or when they touch him, you want to launch right out of your chair at him.

He wants them, you think. That’s why he hasn’t seen you the last few days. He’s been with other women.

The thought drips like poison into your heart, twisting it, filling you with anger and sadness.

Why would he want you when he can have any pretty young thing? No one wants you. No one chooses you. It drips again, icy and brutal.

All of it goes on for what feels like an eternity, and you want to scream, to cry, to escape, but you’ve made this bed and now are being forced to lie in it. It’s your punishment for all your misdeeds, you think. But your stomach is rolling with an ever-growing fury at Jack, at Elvis, at those girls, at yourself, and you start to squirm in your seat.

Finally, your jealousy gets the better of you. If Elvis won’t pay attention to you, then you’ll find someone else who will. It makes the most sense that it’s your husband, of course, who is already strangely attached to you tonight, so you bite your tongue and force yourself to return his affections instead of shirking from them. You lean into him, you put your hands on him, on his chest, his arm, his leg. You pretend it was like it was years ago, when you still both wanted each other more than anything. You throw yourself into the act because it takes your mind off the women across the room.

Jack is surprised, you can tell, but he’s not too far gone into the bottle and soon is returning your affections, pecking at your cheek and neck. After a while, when he whispers in your ear that he wants you, part of you is exhilarated, powerful, because finally your husband wants you again.

It’s in that moment when Elvis’ eyes find yours for only the second time since you’ve been here, those intense blues locking on as Jack’s breath tickles your ear. Elvis’ gaze darkens dangerously, and you watch his jaw clench as he watches you and Jack. And when Jack takes your hand, pulling you off the couch, you feel Elvis’ eyes burning holes into your back.

Finally, is all you can think. Finally, the men in your life are paying attention.

You are so wrapped up in this game, in your anger and your jealousy, that when Jack yanks you into the bathroom and locks the door behind him, you aren’t even upset about it. You want to be disgusted at him (and you are—you still hate him for what he’s put you through), but in this moment, he only has eyes for you and that’s all you want right now, even if it is misguided. Even if the love isn’t there like it’s supposed to be.

When he kisses you with his whisky-tinged breath, it almost feels like he cares. When he gropes you and touches your body in the places he thinks he knows will turn you on, you pretend that it does. You let yourself get swept into a fantasy, into the act, because at least it’s something to chase away all the terrible things you’ve done and all the terrible thoughts in your head.

When you grab at the straining erection in his pants, the heat of him burning into your palm, and hear his gasping moans in your ear, you feel powerful. As you sink to your knees, you relish the look of lust and surprise in your husband’s eyes, and it’s enough to keep you going, even though part of you is appalled. You take him into your mouth, closing your eyes, wishing he was someone else. Jack twists his hand in your hair as he leans against the counter, slack jawed, and you know this won’t take long. It makes it bearable. You’ve known him long enough to know exactly what to do: how to lick, where to touch, the noises you need to make. And you relish in the control you have as he comes undone in record time.

Jack is still gasping for breath when you stand, spitting what he left in your mouth in the sink and washing your mouth out. He grabs at your ass, panting, “Jesus, treasure, what’s got into you? That was fuckin’ hot.”

You shrug coyly at him in the mirror. “I gotta pee, sweetie,” you say, shooing him out, wanting him away from you. More than anything, you want to be alone to simmer in your anger and revulsion.

“Mmm, okay. Thanks, babe,” he hums, still obviously refracting, drunk on you rather than whisky for once. He kisses your cheek sloppily before zipping up and heading out. It doesn’t escape you that he didn’t even make an attempt to get you off. Not that he could, but it figures.

You look at yourself in the mirror, hair askew and cheeks red, eyes blazing. This is the woman I’ve become, you think bitterly. I’m either fucking my lover with my husband in the next room, or I’m sucking off my husband with my lover in the next room.

It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You don’t recognize yourself anymore. You ache for Elvis, but you cover it with anger and jealousy and fear. You hate Jack for what he’s done to you, yet you fall into him and use him the first chance you get.

Rooting around in the drawers, you find some toothpaste and swish it around in your mouth, hoping, wanting to get the taste of Jack, the taste of your own bitterness out. You wash your hands and comb your hair, wondering if this was enough, if you can go back out there at watch Elvis with those women and not die a little inside.

Knock, knock.

The insistent rap on the door startles the hell out of you and you jump. “One second!” you shout with one last look in the mirror. You open the door quickly, not wanting to keep whoever is waiting, and walk out.

And you run smack into Elvis’ chest. You don’t even need to look up to know it’s him—at this point you know his physique and his scent anywhere. A little yelp escapes your lips, and you feel the heat, the anger rolling off him in waves. You gulp, raising your eyes to his and they are as hard and dark as you’ve ever seen them. Your heart jumps into your throat as he grabs you by the arm and yanks you across the hall, throwing you into his bedroom and slamming the door behind so hard that the wall shakes.

You stumble for a second in your heels but recover quickly, turning to face him. Elvis is furious, in that terrifying way you’ve seen before, nearly blacked out with rage. You can see him barely holding on, gripping to a sliver of sanity as he faces you, chest heaving.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” he seethes, his hands fisted and jaw clenching and unclenching, black hair tumbling over his forehead.

Your heart sprints in your chest and you unconsciously step backwards before you catch yourself and stop, lifting your chin at him. “I don’t know what you mean,” you say almost haughtily.

“The fuck you don’t,” he says, advancing on you. You scurry back again, putting the large couch in between the two of you. “You think I didn’t notice the way he was all over you and how you were all over him out there for everyone to see?? You think I didn’t know what was goin’ on when you left?? You think I didn’t see his fuckin’ face comin’ back into the room, grinnin’ like an idiot?!” he screams, grabbing a bottle of water off the coffee table and hurling into the wall.

You flinch as the bottle explodes, glass tinkling down to the floor. “Elvis, stop it! Calm down, everyone can hear you!” you hiss, trying to knock some sense into him, but he’s way beyond that.

“I don’t give a shit!” he yells. “How could you fuckin’ do that?” The rage and the hurt you see in his blacked-out eyes is more than you ever expected and tugs at your heart. But you are still furious in your own right, furious at him for this display, furious at the whole situation.

“How could I do what, E? What? Be with my husband? My husband? Or have you forgotten since the stunt you pulled the other day in the bathroom that I have one?” you throw back at him, “That I have to go back to my room every night to him, pretending like everything is fine? Did you forget that?”

You’re not even sure if he hears you with how gone he is. He rounds the couch, coming for you. Scrambling back, you find that you have nowhere to go, your back is against the wall. Reaching you, he grabs your face in his large hands, his intense eyes drilling into you. “I don’t ever want to see you looking at another man, touching another man. I’m a really jealous motherfucker, y/n. And I don’t ever, ever, ever want you to be with another man, I don’t care who he is. I want to know that you’re mine and all mine,” he heaves.

“Are you kidding me?” you say, wrenching out of his grasp. “How can you demand that of me when you know it’s not possible? I have to keep up the pretense of my marriage! And you think I don’t know that you’ve been with other women? It’s been three days, Elvis, I’m not an idiot!” He looks at you with a mix of dumbfounded innocence and rage. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Maybe it was the girl in your lap just now or the one kissing you that gave it away!”

Elvis growls, shaking his head, staring down at you with those endless eyes. “You’re just fuckin’ jealous. You’re so jealous you went and fucked your husband in my bathroom to get my attention, is that it?” He slams his hand on the wall next to your head, but you refuse to react.

You know you shouldn’t say it, but he’s right and you know it. You did do it to get his attention, and now you have it. “No, baby, I didn’t fuck him. I just sucked him off and spit him out,” you say demurely, cutting, batting your eyes at him, knowing and not caring how awful you’re being.

The way his eyes widen betrays his shock, but he covers it quickly as they narrow. You wonder for a moment if you should be truly afraid because you have pushed him too far, but you almost don’t care. Part of you wants him to feel all of this, a fraction of the tumultuousness that you’ve been feeling for the last week.

“Hmmm…,” he hums, then clicks his mouth. His eyes are black and blazing as they pass over your body. This stillness is almost more frightening than the shouting. You shiver, trembling, but it’s just as much from your own anger as from his, and you can feel the fury laced with something else entirely. You refuse to back down or look away.

~

“You goddamn fuckin’ little brat,” Elvis finally snarls and yanks you with him to the couch. He slams down and pulls you over his knees, and suddenly, a memory from a long time ago flashes in your brain, one you had entirely pushed out of your mind. You choke on it as it floods back to you, knowing he must remember, too, knowing that everything is quite different this time around.

You gasp when Elvis pulls up your dress and yanks down your panties, the cold air of the room hitting your most sensitive areas. “Elvis! Elvis, don’t you dare, don’t you even--!” you shriek, writhing in his lap, not knowing if your words are protests or encouragements at this point.

When his open palm slaps your ass, the sound reverberates through the suite, the sting radiating down your thighs and sending water into your eyes. You gasp again, more from surprise than anything. Surprise that while it smarts, it doesn’t feel bad.

“Elvis,” you breathe out, wriggling in his lap.

He holds you to him. “Oh, don’t you ‘Elvis’ me. You’ve been an obstinate, naughty lil’ brat, and I ain’t havin’ it,” he says through gritted teeth before bringing his hand biting down onto the other cheek.

You hold back your cry, digging your nails into his thigh instead, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a big reaction. Beyond the sting, you feel heat gathering in your belly, but you don’t want him to know that either.

“Seems ya need a lesson or two about how to behave, now don’tcha, you naughty lil’ girl?” he seethes, laced with a sneer. He brings down his hand again, and this time you can’t hold back the sound that emanates from your throat, a whiny moan.

“Ah, that’s what I thought,” Elvis purrs wickedly, rubbing your stinging skin with his fingers. You are completely at his mercy now, your frustrations unravelling under his touch. You buck in his lap, needing more, needing him to ease your toxic thoughts.

“Hmm, you like rilin’ me up? Like gettin’ me all worked up and jealous, huh?” He smacks your ass again, this time his fingers grazing your core. You moan fully now, unable and unwilling to contain it, tears running down your face, your heat building in the most confounding of ways.

“Answer me—didja pull that lil’ stunt on purpose, baby?” he asks, his hand reverberating on you again.

“Y-yes,” you breathe out.

“Yes, what?” he pushes, palming your ass, leaning down towards your ear, his breath hot.

It takes you a second in your haze to piece together what exactly Elvis wants, and once you do, it sends a delectable shiver down your spine. Once again, he never ceases to amaze you in how he can bring out pleasure in you that you never knew you craved or needed.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whine.

You hear him choke back a groan at that and next to your arm, you feel a twitch in his pants. You can’t help but smile.

“You wanted my attention, and now you’re gettin’ it, honey. Is that what you want?” he says, heat leeching from his voice.

“Yes, Daddy,” you breathe again.

He brings his hand down one more time with a grunt, and you cry out in pleasure and pain, ass raw but you are somehow feeling a release that you didn’t know you needed.

~

“Look at you, baby,” Elvis says, somewhere between pride and surprise, running a finger through your folds, which unbeknownst to you are dripping wet. You bite your lip at the contact, sucking a breath in. You want him to touch you, but instead he pulls you up to face him. You hiss at the feeling of your raw ass hitting the backs of your heels as you kneel on the sofa.

He takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him, tears staining your cheeks. “I need ya to look at me, honey,” he orders. You do. His eyes are still dark, but his fury has been tempered by lust.

“You been waitin’ eight long years for me to do that, haven’t ya?” he murmurs. Of course, he remembers exactly how long it’s been.

Your heart flutters and you nod, admitting to yourself that it may have crossed your mind once or twice, in your most secret moments.

“Ain’t nobody else touched you like that, baby?” The way he asks it is almost laced with hope, hope that this is something of you that only he gets to have.

“Never,” you whisper, shaking your head, his hand still gripping your chin.

“Only me, huh? Good girl,” he says, pleased. He lets go of your chin, wiping the tears off your face with his thumb. Then he looks in your eyes.

“I need you to be truthful with me now, baby, yeah? Don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear. Do you want me to keep bein’ rough with ya? Are ya likin’ that? Because if you don’t, I’m gonna stop,” he asks, voice real low.

You appreciate him pausing long enough to ask you and you consider him for a moment, though it doesn’t take long. “Yes, I like it,” you say, surprising yourself with the truth of it.

That dark look flashes over Elvis’ face again, and it sends a thrill right through you.

“Okay, but you tell me if you need me to stop, promise?”

“Promise.”

“Good, cuz I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet and I’m still fuckin’ pissed,” he growls. Your heart plummets into your belly with excitement as you watch the sweetness drain from his eyes, replaced by his fervent anger from earlier.

And you smile.

**

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#Pink Scarf #elvis #elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis 2022 #elvis movie #austin butler elvis #austin butler #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis smut #austin!elvis imagine #austin!elvis x y/n #elvis presley imagine #elvis smut #elvis presley smut #elvis x y/n #elvis imagine #elvis fic #elvis presley fic

[d4rkpluto]

Hello everyone after thinking I realised that I’ve been feeling really ill like it crept on me and it was because of how much I overwork myself, of course I’ll still be answering the asks, publishing posts and starting and finishing paid chart readings that are in queue but I just want you to be aware that if I’m not posting as much it’s probably because my entire body probably broke down 😭

Ever since I took this blog seriously, meaning 2-3 years ago I have not given myself a proper break. I’ve never gone through a day where I wasn’t doing something like editing, researching, writing or even drawing all in the same day. They were apart of my schedule that I became so used to I didn’t realise how damaging it was to me.

I had this constant need to always have to research or do something like bring out content for you guys to see and learn from; and I don’t even know if I’ll be able to do it right now but I will attempt to take a break, thank you for all of your support and I wish you guys a lovely day or night plutonics ☺️

If you wish to contact me I’ll most likely be on discord.

#plutospeaks

[achaotichuman]

It went right over my head when I read it before but it’s wild to think you were an IC fan before 🤯

Some of the awful years.

Y’all will flip at this, but here were my thoughts on the Acotar cast when I was fresh in the fandom.

Rhysand- Liked him, didn’t feel as bad for him as others did but I knocked that down to me just straight up not being attracted to him. I started hating him in Acosf tho. I hadn’t read Acosaf because I thought it a waste of time. But if I had seen those scenes before Silver flames then I would’ve probably hated him sooner.

Feyre- I thought she was really fucking annoying. Especially in her scenes with Nesta. Not much can be said for her because Feyre was more of a device to see through. But I would be the last to advocate for her. Obviously that has changed drastically.

Morrigan- Liar. First thing that comes to mind. She seemed like a white girl who peaked in highschool so I just didn’t like her.

Amren- She was my favourite character second to Nesta. Solely for the reason we now had a morally grey character that actually acted like an unapologetically bad person when she wanted to. This has severely changed. Also literally two lines into her introduction I was screaming Valg King. Amren is a Valg King no one can change my mind. That part hasn’t changed.

Cassian- I was a die hard Cassian fan. I loved this man. I swear to God I would have gone to war for him. I was also die hard nessian. Obviously that has also changed, for the better in my opinion.

Azriel- I cannot physically express how much I hated Azriel. He was quite literally my least favourite character, I wanted him dead. I was hoping every single page that he would be killed off. He was there for vibes and vibes only. Since Azris I am a changed man, but sometimes I just can’t stand him.

Nesta- My Queen. My Lady. My wife. My mirror. She made me feel seen and heard. I love this woman and I always will.

Elain- No opinions on her. I figured pretty quickly she would be a bigger factor later on but I had no opinions on her. I am very pro Elain now, but in canon I just don’t really trust SJM with her. Which is also why my only solid ship with her is Gywnlain. I am very anti Elriel, always was.

Lucien- My heart and soul. I was obsessed with this man. I wanted to wrap him up and hold him close. Still do.

Eris- I didn’t understand the hype in Acowar but come silver flames and I was diving deep into this man. Trying to undo every cryptic word. I developed a very deep love for him. One that has only grown.

Tamlin- Felt sorry for him, but overall I had no strong opinions. I really wanted Acotar back. In the first book I would have probably given up a kidney for him, then it went down slowly. In Acowar however I was defending this man left and right. By Acosf I wanted more Tamlin.

Then I started to deep dive into the characters and their arcs. This was before I joined Tumblr. And the more I read the more convinced I was that in the next book the IC was going to have a falling out because their dynamics made no sense to me. They looked like they were slowly breaking, and Rhysand was very shortly put on my anti list.

But I never made a big fuss about my thoughts because if I did I got attacked really fuckin quickly.

Then I joined Tumblr and found a great community where I could hate and be supported.

Love you guys to death. Thanks to all of you I get to be in my Pro Tamlin, anti IC world and I am so glad I get to be here.

Edit- I was also extremely closeted when I first read Acotar and that definitely had its affect on my opinions on some of the characters.

#anti ic #anti rhysand #pro tamlin #pro nesta archeron #acotar #critical feyre archeron #anti rhys

[gumnut-logic]

Cethair (intro)

Óen | Cethair

Okay, so about a third of you who voted requested some more Thunderdragons. I don't have much, and I need to write more, but here is the intro to the fic about Gordon's dragon.

This is a standalone fic that happens a few years before Óen. There are no HTTYD characters in this one. I needed to write it to sort out their history so I could write Óen. This AU/Crossover is hard work :D

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight and @idontknowreallywhy for all their support on this project. And many thanks to those of you who answered my poll today. It gives me an idea of what you guys would prefer. As always, I can't guarantee anything (stupid brain won't even do what I prefer), but you never know.

Oh, and this is apparently my 12,008th post on this blog. Go me :D

I hope you enjoy this bit.

-o-o-o-

Virgil O’Treasaigh hurried between the tents careful not to trip on the pitch lines, but moving as fast as possible nonetheless.

The Flaithri’s tent was not far, the stamp of the Thunderbird was lit up by the torches clearly in the night, but it felt like leagues into the distance.

Perhaps because the title of Flaithri had shifted so recently and so painfully. Because behind that stamp he would no longer find his father, but instead his eldest brother.

And he feared his mood.

His flight leathers rubbed in places sore from travel and he let out a breath.

Casey had placed guards at the tent, the soldiers eyes sharp as he passed between them without question, striding through the tightly woven flax as it was whipped up by the wind off the black ocean to the west.

“Flaithri, I must speak with you.”

His brother was pacing, of a sort, the injury to his leg forcing a limp that had Virgil biting back protest. Considering the slice to his thigh, it was a sign of his agitation that he could pace at all.

Kyrano stood to one side, his eagle eyes watching everything. His daughter,  Tan, may as well have been a statue in his honour, her stance so mirrored her father’s.

“Scott!”

His brother stopped. His stance lopsided as he turned to face Virgil. “News?”

Virgil swallowed. “Mathair Chriona fears he will not see the light of morning.”

He watched his brother absorb the information. Ever the king he was born to be, there were no tears, only hurt in the depths of his eyes. “Nothing can be done?”

“We have tried everything. He has lost too much and his heart is beginning to falter.” Virgil’s voice cracked on the last word and his head dipped, his own calm strained beyond exhaustion and grief.

A hand landed on his shoulder, fingers tightening almost enough to cause pain. “John has spoken to Cóic.”

Virgil’s head shot up. “No!”

“Virgil, I will lose no more family today.”

And the blue of his brother’s eyes was terrible. Because today they had seen their father taken from them, the fire of Gaat’s beast scorching him from the earth.

The attack had been sudden and unexpected. Cóic had been unable to give warning, still too young to have the reach of an adult matriarch.

They had thought they were safe, hidden in the mountains in the land of the Picts, far from their homeland and the decimation the Scourge had wrought. They thought that Gaat could not find them.

His attack had targeted John and Cóic as it always did. Cóic was what he wanted, of course. The power of the Matriarch and the offence of John receiving the gift and not him had maddened the man.

But John had family and their father had intervened to protect and given his life. It was Gordon, seamaster at arms, who had leapt up onto the worm, stabbed the man, and ended the fight.

But despite his victory, Gaat’s beast had shaken him off and Gordon had fallen. If that was not enough, the cursed worm had then raked Virgil’s little brother with fire.

Gaat had been desperate and had withdrawn to lick his wounds.

But Gordon, dear Gordon…

A single tear tracked down Virgil’s cheek.

“Cóic will save him.”

“She can’t. We don’t know what creatures might be willing. What is the price?!”

But there was blue fire in those eyes. “His life.”

-o-o-o-

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #scott tracy #thunderdragons #nuttyfic

[steamyearlgray]

Thought I’d jump onto this train for once… What an odd combo… either way I love it. Honestly, Star Trek TNG has always been a comfort show for me. I used to watch it every day after school and on weekends whenever it was on WGN.

Real honest moment here below the cut. Feel free to skip if not. [TDLR: Thank you to their creators. They mean so much to me.]

Star Trek TNG has always been there for me. As a kid growing up I would turn it on every day after school and on weekends in the afternoons when it would come on BBC America or WGN. I stopped needing it constantly on after my parents got divorced. Don’t get me wrong I’d still turn on an episode or two every so often but it wasn’t every day like it had been.

My senior year of college I found myself needing it again. First I turned it on for one of my classes. (I wrote so many papers on Data and the federation that semester.)

Then… I just didn’t turn it off until I moved out and discovered (You guessed it correctly) Ghost.

I would turn on daily marathons of TNG whenever I was in my apartment needing to escape the passive aggressive silence that filled it. I felt like Data again. Not understanding the humans around me and the emotional ‘cues’ that were being given to me. Any time I could have TNG on, I did. I felt that no matter how I approached the situation with my roommates I wouldn’t catch any hidden meanings in their tones. Only they wouldn’t take the time to explain or share exactly why they were upset. I remember having the apartment to myself at the beginning of the spring semester, just laying on the floor with it playing in the background and sobbing. (Between the living situation and losing my Grandma it was an odd combo of things)

Ghost came into my life around then. I didn’t fully look into it until later that summer after graduation. I found comfort in the bumbling anxious Cardinal. He seemed just as unsure about social interactions as I was. (It also helped that the music fucking slapped.)

I started obsessively listening to everything I could. My partner was so supportive, happy to see me have some sort of outlet while I worked my lonely accounting job. I loved the concept of them and when I managed to snag tickets to a ritual this past August I cried.

That ritual opened a fucking floodgate my guys, let me fucking tell you. I joked with my partner about starting to write Ghost fics, bringing up the line between regular fic and RPF, and when he traveled for a month I guess I had a bit too much time….

That month I wrote over 81,000 words. That month I posted around 3,000 words every other day. I created a massive fic that seemed to run and drag me along by the wrist.

I’m so grateful for everything Ghost has given me. New friends, a newfound passion for writing, and the spark I needed to start drawing again.

I guess what all of this was leading to was this: I’m so grateful to my boys for supporting me through these past few years. I’m grateful that when Tobias turned to his wife and pitched the idea of being a satanic pope on stage full time she said yes. I’m grateful that ST:TNG was available on Netflix and on cable for my entire childhood. I’m grateful that my mom introduced me to Star Trek and Star Wars early on.

I uh….yeah. Thank you to my boys. Thank you to the fandoms.

Imma just set this one down and walk away for a bit…. It’s time for bed.

#ghost bc fanart #the band ghost #ghost band fanart #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia #data fanart #lt. commander data #i think we're gonna have to kill this guy #new comfort character unlocked #new comfort character vs old comfort character #papa emeritus 4 #papa emeritus iv fanart #lt commander data fanart #done in photoshop #start trek tng #star trek next gen