#Au fic

[dagonmasteroftorments]

I was totally laughing out loud while reading How to Win a Lifetime Achievement Award for Services to Television. Crowleys POV is so refreshing and unusual in the fandom, and it is so witty! Pure joy.

Are you ready for human AU, where Azi hosts a feel good morning talk show and Crowley late night comedy show?

[papernstory]

Life guard Geto X surfer dude Gojo 🖤🤍

I’m sure there are fics about this somewhere.., plz dm them to me 😁

Gojo prints

Geto prints

[starfall-spirit]

@elucienweekofficial Day 7: AU & Tension/Healing

A commission and excerpt from chapter 7 of A Warrior of the Mind.

Thank you so much, Bruna. This piece is absolutely stunning!

🎨: brunagarretart

Event Masterlist

Ancient Myths Retold Masterlist

~~~~~

“Lucien?” Elain stood before him once again, those warm brown eyes filled with more questions than he could ever hope to answer. “Lucien!”

His name on her lips was all it took. Whatever that witch had done to cloak their bond and foster doubt had melted away as easily as the spring sun claims a frost. “Elain,” he breathed. Her next step did not falter and the moment she closed the space between them he took her in his arms, letting his sword clatter to the stone beneath them at last. Ten years. A decade behind them and the feel of her—that delicate, intoxicating scent too—hadn’t changed one bit. “My Elain.”

“Ten years,” she gasped. “Nearly eleven. Our son—”

“A wonder I never dreamed of. He is wonderful, Elain. And you…” Every inch of her trembled against him, one hand steady over his thundering heart as the other rose to cup his face. “On the nights I dared to dream, my love, all I could see was you.”

[peterspinkrobe]

Confession - priest!Miguel O’Hara x Reader [part 2]

Word count: 2,270 (oops)

Rating: mature for suggestive content. Mentions of masturbation. You have a dirty mind… tsk tsk. Religious content. Mentions of parental death (sorry for not tagging last time).

A/N: Thank you for your feral support in reading part 1! The art above is again by @Ejpuki on twt. They drew this moment from part one and JUST LOOK AT IT! They also did a pre-reading which I greatly appreciated. Go support them over there <3 I only tagged the people who explicitly stated bc I don’t want to overstep. Also, I guess I should watch Fleabag? Enjoy! part three is cookin’ in my noggin’

// Psalms 32:3-4

When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy on me;

Rumbling sounds drone from the engine in a constant hum as the bus wheels roll down the asphalt, occasionally shuffling the passengers inside. Yourself included.

The wheels in your mind are conjuring images of too much skin, friction, and want. The mental pictures… different positions and other things that you’ve only read about - all featuring the same tall deacon from your small church.

You curse yourself for both your overactive imagination and forgetfulness for having left your headphones at home. Some loud music would drown out the whir of the bus and push out the flashes of lewdness that plagued you.

Reverend O’Hara, you learned that’s what transitional deacons are usually called after inquiring about the proper title on Google the second you got home from that communion, occupied the majority of your mind. He took up residence in your thoughts without even asking permission and you didn’t know the proper way to absolve your sanity of him. It had only been two weeks since you’d met him, two Sunday services, but you were hooked. This trip into the city was supposed to get you out of the house and help clear your mind of its recent inhabitant.

The methods you were currently using were certainly of no help. Nearly every night, for the past two weeks, you’d given into temptation. Allowing the streaking images of what you could only envision his toned body looked like to remain longer in your mind’s eye. His thumb on your lip, the quick swipe across - became more inquisitive of the inside of your mouth in your imagination. You pressed into yourself and thought of those long, thick fingers. You carried yourself away on highs with only his hands in mind. You yearned to baptize him in your waters.

You buried fingernails into your palms to ground yourself as the scenery outside the bus began the change drastically, pulling you out of your daydream.

Your hometown along the Catskill Mountains was enveloped by the natural world - tucked into valleys of the vast countryside. In the three weeks you’d been back home, you had already gotten used to surrounding greenery. You’d forgotten the toll that city expansion was having on the rows of vegetable and orchard farms in the surrounding areas.

Your gaze out the window watched tree lines and grassy hills give way to glimmers of futuristic architecture as the bus entered Nueva York. The rhythm of wheels on tarmac became a backdrop to the din of honking horns, shouting pedestrians, and blaring sirens. You had only recently left a city not too different from this one, but the drastic change in landscape from the mountains made your head spin. The inertia of the bus braking and accelerating over and over on the intersecting streets only added to the motion sickness. You recognize the next stop as the usual one you and your mother used when coming into the city. You quickly get off the bus, blessing the steady ground underneath as your boots hit the pavement.

Towering structures of carbon fiber and glass dominated the skyline, some illuminated by bright neon light displays, others blending into the afternoon sunshine. Advertisements for fast foods, fast money, and fast cars flickered on screens everywhere. You look to where the bus carried you from and, in contrast, the countryside stretched out, calling you back. Despite the slight familiarity in the maze of metal, the sudden change in surroundings made you slightly anxious.

The steady stream of citizens didn’t help your nerves either. You take a moment to get yourself together before following the foot traffic flow up a familiar street.

Your eyes recognize a food spot from a bygone era and you can’t help but smile. You picked up the pace as you headed to the establishment your family used to frequent. Timeless Treats is still here?! You pull on the long handled door and a wave of music, chatter, and sugar hit you at once. Much more pleasant than the waves of anxiety from moments before.

Entering the quaint eatery, you’re transported into a cozy atmosphere reminiscent of an old fashioned diner. A cheerful man at the front waves you in and shouts for you to ‘sit where ya want!’.

You recognized the vintage decor: rusted signs with cartoon mascots and ads for ice cream floats that cost only $2. Imagine! You select one of the smaller retro tables with two stools and hear a jukebox play a song you don’t recognize but tap your foot along to.

There was more to this diner than what it seems at first glance. A few more glances noticed the subtle touches where the diner had embraced the future where it mattered, with high-tech kitchen appliances that helped the staff immensely. A holographic menu pops up across the portion of the table you're sitting at and you slide your finger along the options.

This bakery specialized in delicious treats with a futuristic flare, with many favorites being popular since the establishment opened generations ago. Your eyes fell onto the pastry menu and your curiosity piqued as you ordered the ‘Time Traveler’s Torta.’

All the hustle of the city had occupied your mind until you were sitting alone at the table. Your eyes scanned the other occupants and you wondered what they were all talking about with their sugary sweets. It made you think of him again.

Dammit. A whole ten minutes without thinking of Reverend O’Hara, that’s a record! You couldn’t help the images of Miguel that fluttered now. Only this time you pictured him sitting at the table with you. The two of you share a dessert and you smile at the thought. You visualize his thumb coming to your face to wipe whipped cream from your lips only to plop the finger into his own mouth. That moment as mass replayed in your mind with differing flavors of spice on repeat.

The torta arrives and you gawk at the presentation of the treat. A classic cake with layers of light vanilla sponge, intricately placed swirls of sweet cream cheese frosting, and decadent chocolate sauce. This sweet was the perfect balance of timeless and futuristic as it sat on an oblong, ornate plate.

You savored the flavors as you ate and continued to imagine a date with the deacon. You ask yourself if deacons can even date and the thought pulls you out of your delusions for a moment. Get it together…

As you scooped the last bits of the pastry into your mouth, you pondered your dilemma. Mom always said that confession cleared a clouded consciousness, but there was no way you’d divulge this information to her. Her hypothetical reaction to your crush on a clergy member makes you shiver.

An idea comes to mind that makes you think to yourself that you’ve really gone mad.

The madness pushes you from your seat after paying for the dessert. There’s a slim chance what you’re looking for is actually there considering the cities expansions. That doubt doesn’t stop you from following a semi-recognizable path down the busy streets.

Every tall figure you pass makes you do a double take. The idea of the deacon brushing alongside you making you smile. You turn a corner as your imagination creates sweet scenarios with Reverend O’Hara and stop in your tracks. You cause people behind you to push into your back and spit harsh murmurs at you.

It was still there.

You were surprised for good reason. You were headed towards a relic of past times, nestled between buildings of glass and metal. There was some scaffolding supporting it as the building you headed towards was centuries old. Other than that - the structure you now stood and stared at jutted towards the sky in the old brick and mortar style you were used to seeing in your hometown.

But the Cathedral of Nueva York wasn’t like the humble church in your hometown. The ornate bell tower and large cross atop the chapel in front of you proved that. The only thing to change about the building was the name as the state itself saw many changes a few decades ago - including the name of the actual city.

You find yourself reminiscing on the few times you’d been to the church as you walked inside. Your family used to attend the fancy Easter services and Christmas plays. Those trips stopped after your father passed, and your mother rarely came to the city at all anymore. You remember seeing pictures of them on their wedding day at this very church. Priesthood is a tight knit group and Father Steen knew the head priest, who extended their church for their wedding services.

Given it was a weekday afternoon, there weren’t many souls inside. Despite the numerous options for seating, you sat in your usual middle pew, aisle seat.

You eyed the part of the church that had brought you here in the first place. The confession booth. Its cherrywood exterior made you think of those eyes that bore into yours that day of communion. You shake your head but the visual remains.

The church in your hometown didn’t have a confessional booth. Even if they did - why the hell would you confess there? To the subject of your lustful desires? So many questions and doubts enter your mind.

Could you really do this? Confess to a priest that you pined over a man in his chaste brotherhood? Think of the judgment!

Another thought occurs to you: their whole shtick was that only one entity could do the judging. And it was confidential. If you received some good ol’ fashioned Catholic scolding and Hail Mary’s, maybe that would be enough to get you back to your senses. Reverend O’Hara is a man devoted to God and cannot be hindered by the whims of a degenerate like yourself.

Emboldened by the potential to relieve yourself of your corrupt thoughts, you stand and approach the far right front of the church. The confessional is smaller than it looked from how you remember as a child and teen but it doesn’t stop you from nearly yanking the door open. You don’t even knock.

Thankfully no one is on the confessing side as you burst into the tiny box. The confined space became even smaller as you closed the door behind you quickly. Your mind races towards impure thoughts of the deacon pressed against you in the tight booth space. His height would force him to bend slightly over you and the visual almost knocks you onto the bench which would probably be right at crotch level…

You remember the times you’d done this before and cry out the usual, “Forgive me, for I have sinned and it has been many years since my last confession…”. Who were you even asking for forgiveness? You think for a moment about the last time you were in this booth. You felt so guilty about stealing from the general store all those years back. This was a different kind of confession. This would hopefully absolve yourself of the sinful attraction to the forbidden.

You start light, fumbling over the words, “I’ve gotten drunk and high, uh, a good bit while in college. I lied to my mother and got into major trouble as a result. I’ve been selfish and lazy.”

The anonymity and the release of it all lit a fire under you and you kept going.

“While I’m in this confession booth, and I know it is a sacred and holy place”, you sigh and hear shuffling on the opposite side of the wall, the priest waiting patiently on the other side. “I’ve been struggling with my faith and don’t believe in god…”

You hear the clergyman start to interject but the voice that comes out of you has a fierce tone.

“I’m not done.” Now it was the priest’s turn to sigh and you see movement through the small slits in the partition, but hear nothing else. You continue. The most scandalous part to admit had yet to be said.

“Father, I’ve been lustful over the deacon at my church.” There’s silence on the other end and before embarrassment can take over you continue, “I’m constantly thinking of him and having impure thoughts that drive me to-“ oh god, here it is

“Touch myself. Daily. With this deacon on my mind.” You can’t stop the heat from painting your cheeks a deep red.

“I feel guilty because he isn’t for me to think that way about. From just the two times I’ve seen him, I know he is a good man who does good things. He’s on a path towards righteousness. He’s worthy.” To your shock, you feel tears form and they begin to fall.

“I’m a sinful nonbeliever. Definitely not someone he could be with, unworthy of devotion of any kind. And I’m not good.” Your breathing becomes shaky as the tears fall harder. Despite the fact that you feel your words are the truth, you can’t help but imagine him there now. Comforting you as you cry.

Now that you’ve finished confession, you expect to hear an outburst of disapproval or at least ‘50 Hail Mary’s’ to absolve you of your confessed transgressions.

But that’s not what you heard next.

You hear your name. You hear your name in that sweet music that’s been ringing in your ears the last week or so. This time the musical tone is cautious. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief as your eyes glue to the wall where the music came from.

To confirm your suspicions, you grab the knob on the partition and yank it back.

Through the small window you see a familiar pair of eyes analyzing your face, heavy with worry.

Reverend O’Hara had just taken your confession…

I pray you liked this, dear reader.

Tagged ppl - @friendlynbhdzero @ceoofghosts it won’t let me tag you @hoelychildofgod

[mystic-writings]

remember the nights | newt [remastered]

PAIRING — newt x thomas’ step-sister!reader

SUMMARY — after her father’s engagement, y/n moves from new york city to the small town of woodstock, where she befriends her step-brother thomas’ group of friends, and easily finds a second home within them. among the crowd of rowdy teenagers is newt, an intriguing boy who seemed to catch y/n’s eye, and who quickly becomes the boy that would end up making her final year of high school unforgettable. 

WARNINGS — friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, etc. — each chapter will have separate warnings

WORD COUNT — 31,989

NOTES — AHH ITS FINALLY HERE!! i've been waiting for so long to do something like this and honestly despite how cliche and trope-y this fic is i love it to death

EXTRAS — town map | reader's house | brenda's house | newt's house

PLAYLISTS — youtube | spotify | apple

read on Wattpad | read on Ao3

chapter one — new beginnings

chapter two — parking lot introductions

chapter three — mickey's diner

chapter four — the willow tree

chapter five — late night shenanigans

chapter six — stargazing

chapter seven — bright lights, big city

chapter eight — saturday

chapter nine — suspicion

chapter ten — the bonfire

chapter eleven — o, atlas, pt. i

chapter twelve — o, atlas, pt. ii

chapter thirteen — welcome distractions

chapter fourteen — a rom-com happy ending

taglist: @heliads @ghostofscarley @badbatch-simp24 @virginia-peters @third-broparcelicito @lamolaine @yes-fangirl-things (open!)

[lemoneyshipz]

mood board for the stranger than fiction au fic i wanna write but don’t know where to start 😭😭

(will elaborate later)

[redrosyrose]

*nobody*

me go straight to ao3 whenever finish a movie just to find fics,which have wolfstar/drarry/jegulus as the main couples instead of the original ones

[viablemess]

modern Codywan AU idea part 1

organized crime member Cody under "mand'alor" Jango + teacher / school board nominee with a heavy past Obi-Wan. This is a beast of an idea post so buckle up and join me for the ride this took over my brain when writing another wip and would not leave me alone. I like it a lot, I hope you do too.

tw: mentions of school shootings, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of physical assault (all vague, but still)

.

.

The Fetts are a influential and very well known organized crime family in a large city, and Obi-Wan is one of three children to Qui-Gon and maybe Shmi, alongside Anakin and Ahsoka.

Boba is a student in Obi-Wan's elementary class. After most of the students are picked up save for Boba and a few other kids, there is a shooting nearby, and Obi-Wan shelters the kiddos until the shooter is apprehended. The Fett Family shows up to pick up Boba and Obi-Wan is respectful to them, oblivious to who they are, and most importantly, kept Boba and the other kids safe. As a result, Cody slips Obi-Wan a note saying "if you need anything call me, no questions asked" with his personal cell number. Obi-Wan saves it, not because he thinks he will need it, but because Anakin might, who has been involved in many illegal street races (alongside Waxer and Boil maybe whoops, they don't know the connection for most of the plot). Or, perhaps Qui-Gon will need it, because he and Shmi have been threatened by individuals and groups around their housing.

For a bit, Boba is the line of communication between Obi-Wan and Cody. He lets little stories slip and Cody hopes Obi-Wan does not call, because he seems like a gentle soul who teaches little kids, he does not belong in Cody's world. At the same time, he is a gentle soul who teaches little kids, Cody really wants to take him to dinner.

Obi-Wan texts a few times to ask about helping his brother Anakin, and Cody admits to not being able to make street race charges go away, but he will poke around, they exchange some information, and that's that.

Cody keeps working under his dad as a very respected *ahem* commander. They're looking into a new organization who might poach some buyers off of them and their smuggling deals, and to top it off, the new organization seems to break a lot of the Fett's unspoken rules of conduct. The organization's name? CIS. Of course. Rex wants to make a gender joke. The CIS are the same folks extorting the Skywalker-Kenobi family. Also of course.

And then parent teacher conferences happen because they're helpful, but Jango gets pulled into a negotiation and can't make it, surprise surprise, Cody has to go. He manages to weasel his way into dinner afterwards, and it's great. Obi-Wan is actually a snarky minx and Cody's falling fast. Obi-Wan explains that he is running for the school board because of a lot of corruption and problems in the public school district, and he wants to support the kids who have rough home lives, and Cody does some tip toeing around, and Obi-Wan picks up on what he isn't saying, because he has done his research now. Cody is so loyal, kind, and strong, and Obi-Wan is also cracking fast. It's no question these two are hooked on each other. Cody offers to walk Obi-Wan back to his car, and finds the windshield broken or his tires slashed or something. Obi-Wan manages to pass it off, and oh darn Cody needs to give Obi-Wan a ride home and it's cute.

Anakin keeps racing to earn extra money, and Qui-Gon and Shmi try to deal with things on their own. Obi-Wan goes back home to check on his parents and only sibling who lives with them, Ahsoka. Turns out someone is threatening her in a sexual manner, threatening human trafficking, and Obi-Wan flips shit. He does not tell Qui-Gon because Ahsoka begs him not too. He certainly does not tell Anakin, and so Obi-Wan goes out and does his best big brother act and tries to figure out where this is coming from. He figures out it's Maul, who has harassed and extorted his family before. A brief fight follows. Obi-Wan breaks some of Maul's ribs. Maul breaks Obi-Wan's wrist. Teaching without his dominant hand for the next few weeks absolutely sucks, and Boba definitely talks to Cody about it. Obi-Wan does not want to panic Cody, he's dealt with people like Maul before, so he tries to pass it off as clumsiness. Cody isn't buying it, but he also isn't going to push... yet.

I'm falling asleep, but will be back with part 2 soon <3

.

I do not have time to write this but I had to share the thought before I forget it. If anyone wants to write it please be my guest just credit/share

[babybatscreationsv2]

Peter's First Kiss

Marvel | Starker

When Peter is outed at a party by one of his classmates, Tony swoops in to save his boyfriend from public humiliation.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: forced outing, public embarrassment

"Peter's gay?" One of his classmates exclaimed. Peter shrunk in on himself on reflex. Even Ned stopped mid sentence and he looked around. His class wasn't known for being homophobic, but he wasn't exactly looking for yet another reason to get bullied. Peter grabbed his arm and slowly began to pull Ned away from the source of the exclamation. They made it two steps.

"Hey, Peter!" Betty reached them. She caught Peter's arm to stop his escape. "You're gay? Someone said you were gay."

"Uh..." Peter froze. A thousand denials tangled around in his brain.

"No! What?" Ned said, but his nervous stuttering was unconvincing. Betty looked between the two of them. In fact, the whole room was looking at them.

"Well..." Peter looked at his friend in panic. Ned gave him nothing more than a concerned look and a shrug. "I am. Yeah. I mean, I guess so."

"Really? That's totally cool," Betty said. "I mean I don't think it's a problem or anything. Actually, Eddie's gay, too! Sorta. He's bi. You guys should talk!"

Betty dragged him across the room. The crowd settled as the drama of the moment passed. The lack of bloodshed not enough to hold teenage attention.

Eddie Brock leaned against the wall, chatting with some friends, and sipping something from a plastic cup. Betty pulled Peter into the group as she inserted herself in the center. Peter looked over his shoulder to see Ned watching awkwardly a few feet away.

"Hey, Eddie!" Betty greeted.

Eddie looked at each of them. Amusement painted his face. "What's up, Betty?"

"Peter's gay."

"Oh, really?" His amused look turned to a smirk. His eyes twinkled. Peter tried not to look as horrified as he felt. "Thanks for the update, guys."

Betty looked at Peter, then again at Eddie. She bounced on her heels. "You guys should talk."

"About what, Bet?" Eddie took a sip from his cup.

She looked baffled. "He's gay. You're bi. You guys could totally date."

Eddie laughed. "I'm okay, thanks. No offense, Parker."

Peter shook his head "No, that's fine..." He looked around for an escape route, but he was sure Betty would chase after him again. He prayed for Ned to go set off a smoke detector or something.

"But Peter needs help. He's gay and he's never even kissed someone before," Betty insisted. She sighed sadly. "It's really sad how so many gay people grow up to be thirty and they've never even been kissed."

"Whoa, I have so kissed someone!" Peter argued. "You've literally seen me kiss Liz."

"That was before you knew you were gay." Betty rolled her eyes. "It doesn't count. You're a whole new you now. This is your becoming, Peter."

The way she thought she was helping was growing more frustrating by the minute. Peter's jaw clenched, locking in the words he didn't want to say. He wasn't one for confrontation. Especially not a public one.

"He looks alright to me," Eddie said. "I'm sure someone will take care of him and his unkissed lips eventually."

"I have kissed someone!" Peter insisted.

"Peter, it's okay. You don't have to be embarrassed," Betty said in a way that she must have thought was sympathetic. "Just because we've all kissed someone before doesn't mean you have to be so ashamed. We'll find you someone."

Peter pressed his lips together before the words could come out. He turned on the spot to make his escape only to come face to face with his boyfriend, Tony.

Familiar hands wrapped around his waist. He pulled him in close. Peter's hands slid over his chest to curl around his arms. Warm lips pressed against his own. Peter leaned into, holding back the way he wanted to moan as the tension he was holding fled. The sound of clapping and cheering came to mind slowly. Peter hesitated as he realized what everyone was cheering for. He stopped and looked at Tony as his face burned.

"Heard you'd never been kissed. I came to save the day," Tony said. His smile was huge.

"My hero." Peter shook his head, though he couldn't help but smile. He hadn't wanted to come out this way, but if everyone already knew then at least he had Tony to back him up.

"Peter had his first kiss, everybody!" Betty announced. "And it was with Tony Stark!"

Peter held in a laugh, but if Tony tried to hold back it slipped out and left them both giggling. "My first kiss," Peter said.

"And with Tony Stark," Tony said with mock awe.

"Can we leave now?" Peter whispered.

Tomy raised his eyebrows. "You sure you want that rumor going around?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "We've been dating for a year, Tony."

"Your first kiss and your first fuck all in the same day. The whole school is gonna lose their minds," Tony teased. He wrapped his arm around Peter's shoulders and led him towards the door. Everyone was staring.

"I think they already have." Peter gave Ned a grimace as they passed. He leaned into Tony as they made their escape, with Peter's face burning red and Betty's unfortunate glee following behind them.

[misslavenderlady]

A Little Bit Country, A Little Bit Rock ‘N Roll - Chapter 15

Summary: Michael and David have been thoroughly enjoying their time as a couple. But while they do have plenty of loved ones that support them, there may still be quite a few intense challenges to overcome.

Full credit to @silvermaplealder for the gif of David and Michael!

TW: Chapter contains mentions of abuse and mental health/stress

Heyyyyy....so uh.....it's been a year. Whoopsie. I genuinely am sorry to keep everyone waiting. This past year has been a rollercoaster of events. I hope you understand and still welcome my fic with this update 💜

Previous Chapter *nsft chapter* Next Chapter

To be with your one, true love was something that only a few lucky souls in the world got to experience. Whether someone found their happiness with a romantic partner, a platonic friend, or a loving family, it was true bliss to be with the person you cared most about. David knew he had found that kind of love when he had crossed paths with his boys long ago.

But Michael? This was an entirely different feeling. Something fresh and exciting and full of hope. Michael was the first person he wanted to see when he awoke after sunset, and the one he would kiss farewell before hiding away from the sunrise. What made their newfound love even sweeter was the fact that he could tell Michael felt the same way. 

For the first couple of weeks after they made love together, David would occasionally peek into Michael's mind, ever-so curious as to whether or not the cowboy was still pleased with their relationship. It made his heart soar whenever he heard thoughts of joy, adoration, and occasional lust. 

Though as the season shifted from summer into autumn, David found no use in his vampire tricks any longer. He didn't need to pry into Michael's mind to understand him. It was far easier to notice when the brunet wanted something or was enjoying their time together. It was interesting, and certainly not unwelcome. Change could be a good thing, and Michael was proof of that.

And he had full intentions of enjoying every moment they shared together. Tonight was one of those times.

“You really trust me enough to be here for this?”

“‘Course I do! Don’t you worry yourself, alright?”

Michael had his hand fully grasped around David’s, eagerly guiding him to the barn on the Emerson property. As per usual, they had just finished enjoying a filling, delicious dinner made from scratch by Lucy. Now Michael was ready to wrap up some chores around the place before spending the night having fun. 

Usually, David would take the opportunity to sneak away with the other boys in order to find and drain a victim. Lucy knew how to keep their bellies full, but they still relied on the taste of fresh blood to keep their vampiric powers going strong. But this time was a bit different. Michael had asked David to join him for one particular task he had to do. Something that was incredibly important, according to him. 

“I think you’re really gonna like this, David,” Michael assured him with a bright smile. “It’s one of my favorite things to do ‘round here.”

David’s curiosity grew with each step as they walked further into the barn, the sound of hay crunching under their boots filling his ears all the while. It was the only thing he heard until a second, much louder sound surprised him.

“MOOOOOOOO”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to hear the noise of a farm animal in a place like this, but what truly caught the vampire off guard was hearing a bold noise come out of a small creature. 

Standing in one corner of the barn was a little calf. A fluffy coat of black and white fur, a shiny, wet snout, and a swishing tail. She seemed to perk up at the sight of the two boys, as if it knew they were there to give her plenty of attention. Michael giggled at such a sight. 

“Yeah yeah, I know, girl,” Michael said. “You know what’s comin’, dontcha?”

The cowboy leaned down to get on the little cow’s level, giving her a nice scratch under her chin as a greeting. Her big, brown eyes fluttered shut, and she leaned into his hand more, no doubt enjoying the sensation. While he kept petting her, Michael turned his gaze back to David.

“This little lady is Cookie! She’s a Lineback. Sam and I picked her up at an auction across town last week!” he explained. “She’s spoiled rotten ‘cause of how plum cute she is~”

You’d have to be an absolute monster not to melt at the sight of such a sweet little creature. And that was saying something, since David technically was such a thing. He softly smiled at the calf, kneeling down to meet her at eye level. She was still a bit spooked, backing up suddenly when he moved towards her. A twinge of guilt ran through him at the sight. 

“Aww don’t feel bad, David! She’s just a little shy when it comes to meetin’ new people,'' Michael assured him. “Besides, you’ll become her best friend once you give her this.”

Michael reached into a bag he had brought along for their trip. It took no more than a moment for him to fish out exactly what he needed. In his hand, he held a large, rectangular plastic bottle with a thick, white liquid sloshing around inside. A rubber nipple was secured at the end of it, much like a baby bottle. 

“She’s still bein’ bottle fed. I do this a couple times a day. Since she doesn’t have her mama, this’ll be how she gets big and strong,” he explained, giving the bottle a light shake. Cookie’s eyes widened at the sight while her tail swished around some more. The two boys giggled at the sight of her excitement. It was like seeing a dog wag its tail when being offered a treat. 

Michael gave David a smile as he held out the bottle for him to take. “Why don’t you try feedin’ her?”

“Well, I’ve never done this before, so I may need some help so that I don’t look like an idiot,” David admitted. 

“No worries! It’s a lot easier than ya think!”

After giving him some pointers on how to position the bottle and how to get her to latch on, Michael stood back in order to let David do his thing. Careful to follow the advice given, David allowed Cookie to come up to him and take a drink at her own pace. Sure enough, she became a lot more friendly with him once she got a taste of the milk. 

A bright smile spread across his face as he watched the calf drink. Michael was right when he said it was easier than he realized. She snorted and gulped, noisily taking as much milk as she wanted. He had to admit, it was quite precious. It really felt like he was bonding with the little creature. 

That was, until she pulled away and pushed her head against the bottle, causing it to slam against his leg. 

“Ow! What was that for?”

Michael let out an amused laugh, clearly enjoying seeing David get flustered by a baby animal. 

“She’s nudging! When calves are around their mothers, they do that to the udders as a way to get more of the milk to come out. But since it’s just you with a bottle, she thinks the same thing will happen ‘cause she doesn’t know the difference. Hurts like a bitch, don’t it?”

“It’s a good thing she’s cute. Otherwise, I’d have to scold her,” David said with a smirk. Cookie’s ears fluttered while she went back to work on drinking her milk. 

The two of them enjoyed more of Cookie’s feeding time, encouraging her and cooing at how adorable she was. The little cow was practically eating up the attention the same way she was eating up her meal. By the time she was finished with the bottle, the fur on her chin was soaked with milk. She seemed quite pleased with herself. 

“Atta girl,” Michael said. He took a rag from the same bag he had carried the milk in order to clean up the mess all around her face. Just as she did before, she tried to nudge Michael’s hand. “Sassy lil’ thing.”

“And definitely a daddy’s girl. She’s gonna miss you if you go back to school, Michael.”

The brunet let out a snort and a hearty laugh at such a comment.

“Hell nah, I ain’t goin’ back to school! I graduated a year early back in Texas. I ain’t doin’ more of that shit. Let Sammy deal with all that. I’ll stay here with my lil’ buddies,” he laughed, giving Cookie a playful rub behind the ears. 

The blond leaned up against one of the walls of the barn, letting out a sigh of relaxation while his boyfriend took care of Cookie. It put him at ease seeing Michael working hard. He did so much for his family and all the animals on their farm. Considering he used to only value partying hard and spilling blood, it was comforting to see someone who cared about doing things for others without expecting something in return.

“I don’t know how you do it,” David said.

“Whatcha mean?”

“I mean, I don’t know how you do all of this! How you take care of animals, do all the chores, take on a bunch of hard labor, and then still have time and energy to do stuff with me and the boys. Honestly, you’ve got a crazy amount of stamina. How do you do it?”

Michael pondered over David’s words. He stayed quiet for a moment, reflecting on them as he finished up with Cookie. He let out a tired sigh as he sat down in the hay and let the calf snuggle up on his lap.

“Honestly? I don’t really know myself,” he admitted. “It’s actually a lot more exhaustin’ than I make it look, David.”

It wasn’t an answer that David had been expecting. Growing curious, he stopped his leaning so that he could kneel down and be more at Michael’s eye level. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, wordlessly asking what the human’s response meant. Michael gave him a sheepish smile, realizing he couldn’t take back his choice of words. 

“Between you, me, and Cookie, I take on as much as I possibly can because I don’t know how long I’ll get to do this.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s like this: I’m the man of the house in the eyes of my mama. Sure, Grandpa’s still kickin’ but he ain’t no spring chicken. He needs my help with so much ‘round here. You weren’t here for it, but he nearly threw his back out just carryin’ some horse feed. He needs me, especially ‘cause Mama’s worried about him.”

Michael’s smile slowly faded as he spoke. The calf he held nuzzled up against him, enjoying being held as he spoke. Michael gently pet her, letting her relax into his hand. He always felt better around the animals. 

“I don’t mind helpin’ out. I care about my family. I want to look after them. But…I don’t wanna miss out on life while I’m young. It feels like….I dunno…like jugglin’, I guess. I wanna go wild, drink myself stupid, do some partyin’, go on adventures. But someday I’m gonna have to grow up. Maybe settle into some work for other farms to make more money. Get Sammy what he needs when he goes to college someday. Make sure Mama doesn’t have to work. There’s just so much to do in so little time…”

David’s eyebrows creased, and he frowned as he listened to Michael. In all the times he listened to the boys' thoughts, he never heard such things in his head. It was almost as if Michael was trying to act and not think. He pushed his thoughts and feelings aside so he could just focus on what was in front of him. It made David wonder just how long his boyfriend had been carrying around such burdens. Never acknowledging the work. 

“What about you, Michael?” David spoke up. “You keep talking about your family, but what about the stuff you want?”

“I already do the stuff I want!” Michael tried to assure him. “Every night we go ridin’ or raise a little hell on the boardwalk or even havin’ our jam sessions is always fun. I honestly haven’t felt so happy since the move.”

He carefully moved the hand that wasn’t petting Cookie in order to reach out and grab David’s hand. Out of a reflex, David immediately intertwined their fingers together. He never got tired of doing that.

“And you. I get to be with you, David. Every second we’re together makes me forget I even got troubles. You keep me in the moment. Don’t make everything feel so rushed.”

David softly smiled at the kind words Michael shared. He brought the human’s hand upward so that he could kiss the back of it. All the while, he ran his thumb over Michael’s knuckles. 

“I feel the same way, Cowboy,” he sighed. “I’d do anything to make you happy. I just….want to take away all those troubles you have. Life is meant to be savored, not rushed through. You deserve to enjoy all the stuff you like and not have to carry the pressure of your family.”

Not satisfied with just the smooch on his hand, Michael grabbed hold of David’s shirt, tugging him closer so that they could share a proper kiss. He giggled as he pressed his lips, enjoying the familiar scent of David’s cigarettes on his skin. When they broke apart, David had a grin of his own. 

“Carryin’ these things is my burden, darlin. As long as I’ve got you in my life, I’ll be just fine.”

“Well, I’ll still help when I can. We all will,” David assured him. 

Michael smirked at him, amused by such promises. Even if David was true to his word, he found it cute to see this bad boy turn into a loyal farm hand. 

“And if you just so happen to change your mind about all this work and just….I dunno….want to run away together and become a country and rock music duo and have a home of our own back in your hometown, I would absolutely go along with it.”

The human boy burst into a fit of giggles. Clearly such a specific scenario had been playing around in David’s mind for sometime. He really was crazy about that guy. 

“You’re too sweet, y’know that, Huckleberry?” 

“Only for you, Cowboy~” 

The two of them were so close and eager to share another kiss together. But as they leaned in to do it again, they were rudely interrupted by the fussy little cow on Michael’s lap.

“Mooooo!!!”

“You are such a drama queen,” Michael playfully scolded Cookie. “You’re not the only one that gets affection ‘round here, missy. Learn to share.”

David watched in amusement as Michael got back on his feet and hoisted the fluffy calf into the air. He followed the lead and stood back up as well, dusting off the hay and dirt from his beloved jacket. One of these days, he’d ask Michael to loan him some proper work clothes to wear around the farm. Or at the very least, he’d swipe them off some sucker after a hunt. 

Speaking of hunting, he hadn't heard from the boys yet. Usually, one of them would let him know when they were cleaning up after feeding. Had they not found a good meal yet?

“Michael, do you mind if I go looking for the boys? I'd love for them to meet Cookie too.” 

“Absolutely! The more the merrier,” Michael said. “Just do me a favor and take the bag and the bottle back inside. I'll put everything away once I'm done with the other animals.” 

With a quick nod and another peck, David was off for the Emerson house. He twirled the bag around his wrist as he followed the path to the back porch. Before he cut through the hall in order to get to the kitchen, something caught his eye in the dining room. 

“Oh! Hey, Sam!” 

Sitting in a chair at the dining table was the younger Emerson brother. Across the table were a variety of textbooks, looseleaf paper and composition notebooks. Sam was deep in focus, hunched over his work, with a pencil tapping in between his fingers. He barely gave David a glance as he read over his notes. 

“Wow! Better lower the enthusiasm before you break a blood vessel!” David said sarcastically, ready to leave the kid alone since he was clearly in a mood. 

Then again, maybe he shouldn’t be so harsh on him. He and Michael already messed with him enough with their pranks and roughhousing. David turned back around and softened his expression a little. The same look he usually had around Laddie.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Sam. Didn’t mean to sass you,” he apologized, leaning over one of the spare dining chairs. “Can I make it up to you, bud?”

Sam’s sour expression didn’t budge while he continued writing down answers for his homework. He only gave David a side glance rather than proper eye contact. 

“I dunno. Can you do ninth grade geometry?” 

“Uhhh….’fraid not,” David admitted. 

“Then no, you can’t. So you can just leave me alone. Stop botherin’ me already.”

David was growing more and more frustrated by the minute. He was itching to bare his fangs again and hiss at the boy. He didn’t take kindly to any attitude from bratty kids. Still, he wanted to keep his cool and make things right. If not for his own sake, then for Michael’s. 

“Sam, I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m not your enemy here. I’m trying to make nice with you here, so why do you still wanna act like you hate me?”

The younger boy flicked his pencil down onto the table and slammed his math book shut. Now David had his full attention, and Sam wasn’t looking too happy about it.

“You wanna know why I hate you?” he snapped. “It’s ‘cause I know you’re nothin’ but trouble! You’re dangerous! Bad to the bone!”

“So what if I am? Everyone has their flaws. Is it really fair to hate me for that? For trying to be better? I’m trying to do that for your family. For Michael!”

“How can I possibly trust that? How do I know you’re not gonna go and hurt my brother?”

David’s breathing was heavier and his stomach was churning. The more Sam argued with him, the more he wanted to prove himself. It was all so frustrating. This was the first time in ages he wanted to have a connection with humans. He didn’t want to be seen as a monster as others had for decades now. Letting out a sigh and lowering his guard, David allowed himself to be vulnerable to Michael’s brother.

“Because I love him.”

Silence hung in the air between the two of them. Sam’s baby blue eyes widened and his expression softened at the words. He could have expected any response except that. 

Though he already knew of Michael’s sexuality and blossoming relationship with David, he hadn’t been too enthusiastic about it. Paranoia about cryptic creatures trying to claw their way into Sam’s home life had put him on edge. Even if others broke bread with the Lost Boys, he hadn’t trusted for a second.

And yet….the look in David’s eyes was genuine. Not one bit of deception to be found. 

“You love him?”

“Yeah, Sam, I do.” 

Before Sam felt like he could rant a mile a minute to David’s face. Now he was quiet as a mouse, looking rather embarrassed for being so harsh before. David figured he would keep talking to get rid of some of the awkwardness. 

“Sam, I get it. You’re feeling protective of Michael. He’s your brother. I feel the same way about Marko, Dwayne and Paul.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. But we like it here. We like your family. And we take care of our family. I want to make Michael happy, just like he’s done for me. So I want you to know that I don’t want to hurt him.”

David offered a gesture that not too many had the honor of experiencing. He held out a gloved hand, ready to give a shake with Sam. 

“I just want to be your friend.”

Sam looked as if he was still on the fence about whether it was right to trust David. The warnings of Edgar and Alan echoed in his head. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe he had misread the whole situation with Max. Hell, maybe he even hallucinated that burn on his hand when they were at the party. 

After all the shenanigans, maybe it all boiled down to the fact that he was just a scared kid. Scared for both his mother and brother. Max wasn’t right for their family, but David was. What he and Michael had was real.

So with an ever-so faint smile, Sam accepted the offer and shook hands with David. The blond seemed to physically relax more, no doubt glad to get Sam’s acceptance. 

“Thanks, Sam,” David said. “I apprecia-”

“DAVID!”

A voice screamed out in the blond’s head. He tensed up, recognizing it was Dwayne calling out to him. He sounded so urgent and loud. Such qualities were very out of place when they talked.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Sam now had a look of concern on his face, worried by how shaken up David suddenly seemed to be.

“I-I...Sorry, I just realized I need to check on something…” David nervously explained. He let go of Sam’s hand and the bag he had held before sprinting off to the back door that he had come through. Something wasn’t right, and he couldn’t keep Dwayne waiting.

“I’m here! What’s wrong?”

“Emergency….help….us….”

“What’s going on? Dwayne, where are you guys??”

At that moment, David was sure his heart was going to drop into his stomach. The feeling only grew stronger when he got his answer.

“Max’s…..house…h-hurry…”

He was off like a shot. David didn’t even bother with his motorcycle. He didn’t care about how fast and reckless he was with flying into the night sky. His boys were in danger. There was no time to be cautious.

He didn’t even notice Sam coming out the back door. Just in time to see David taking flight. 

Tag List: @silvermaplealder @mikey-stardust-way @legal-lost-boy @britany1997 @ria-coolgirl @crustyraccoon @ghoulgeousimmaculate @kurt-nightcrawler @blackcoffeebat @thelostsouls1987 @crustyboypix @thornthehellhound @solobagginses @6lostgirl6 @american-idiot-jpg @bloodywickedvamp @anxiouslittleweirdkid @juss-soupp @bloodsuckingfiends @f4iryfxies @bezinful @oceansrose2002 @piratesangel @vampirefilmlover @charlizekkelly @blueberrypancakesworld @thinkblotted @midnight-in-santa-carla @warrior-616 @rain-universe @queerlittlem0nster @hypocriticaltypwriter @britany1997

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

My favorite quotes from Kaz Brekker in my fic, which I will most likely never publish because I'm too embarrassed. I just wanted to share these beause Kaz's personality is difficult to capture in a fic without making him ooc, so I'm sort of proud that these seem like exact things Kaz would say or do:

"The desperate men are the worst kind of men."

"The Dregs can go screw themselves, he muttered, I'll tell them if and when I feel like it."

"One thing I've learned in this life, he said, sighing. There was a small smile on his face, There are no such things as saints. Everyone's flawed."

"Being tense and being prepared are two different things. But you seem to be both, in all the wrong ways."

 (Sarcastically) "After this miraculous sun summoner is discovered, all your problems will surely be solved, and all of Ravka will live in harmony forever."

"If they can't pay me back, I'll take the money from their pockets myself."

"Inej is better off doing more useful tasks then trying to catch a shipment thief. If the thief even exists. His own employees might be stealing from him without him realizing."

"I got paid 240 kruge just for stumbling across those morons, and the night is still young."

"I suppose I have no argument with a midnight waffle run."

"At this point, I could just pretend to be another candidate for the Ravkan throne. A bastard, fathered by the King. I'd have more claim than Nikolai Lantsov."

"See, Nina, sweet? You let them kick mud on your shoes, they'll kick mud in your face next. That's why you shatter their kneecap the first time."

"Lost track of time? What's there to lose track of, Jes? Time only heads one way."

"The steadfast members of the Council of Tides who won't cooperate will be steadfastly replaced."

"The Kerch choose the God of trade and act surprised when he doesn't grant mercy. Benevolence has no place in commerce. Ghezen only hears your prayers when you promise profit."

"You can tell her you got jumped at the docks by a knife-wielding seagull for all I care."

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Okay I’ve been toying with an idea for a Six of Crows au post-Crooked Kingdom where Van Eck won for a little while now and yeah idk but I had a scene idea come to me just now so I’m gonna write it here to see what you guys think and if there’s any interest then I might add it to my list of fics to write

This feels like a weird introduction but, er, here we go:

Inej knew the moment Kaz got home. There were no longer any crowds in the house to come to attention at his entrance, or if there were then no-one had bothered to come down to the half-room and tell Inej, but she could hear his voice drifting through the vents as soon as the door upstairs banged shut behind him.

“Where’s Inej?”

“Where do you think?” Matthias’ reply came roughly, and Inej could all but picture the disapproving grimace that must be crossing his face about now.

Let him judge. She didn’t need to leave the half-room, and for as long as that was true she wouldn’t. The vents did not give her every room though, and she did miss gathering her secrets. She wondered if there was anyone else in the house, but the five of them. Five? She stopped and counted them on her fingers. Yes, five. Hopefully still five. Inej had not bothered to leave the half-room in days, and no-one had been down to see her since yesterday morning.

She heard the door click open behind her, of course, but she did not bother to look up as Dirtyhands entered the room.

“Wraith,”

“Don’t you read the papers, Kaz?” Inej asked, without turning, “The Wraith is dead,”

She stood up, hand wandering across the table for her little pot of jurda. It tasted like shit and it wasn’t nearly as strong as she wanted it to be, but it took less than a month for the price of the blossoms to surpass the height of the stars so she’d have to make do with whatever they had left.

“Inej-”

“They found her body on the steps outside the Church of Barter almost three months ago, remember?” she finally turned to face Kaz, unscrewing the lid on the little silver pot as she did so, “Killed by some mercenary called the White Blade, who still hasn’t been found by they way in case you haven’t seen the latest. I guess it’s difficult to catch a ghost,”

Difficult to catch a wraith.

“We’ve had this conversation several times, Inej-”

“And we’re going to have it again,”

Inej placed an orange jurda blossom on her tongue, then offered the open container to Kaz. It was almost empty. He waved her off.

“I thought you didn’t go in for that sort of thing,”

Inej shrugged.

“Gotta stay awake somehow, haven’t I? We’re busy,”

“We’re not on a job”

“We’re never on a job. Unless the reason you’ve bothered to grace me with your presence is a proposition?”

Kaz shook his head.

“I just wanted to tell you there’s no news,”

Inej looked away. There was never any news. And yet somehow she always expected differently.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Probably,”

Inej caught another jurda blossom between her fingers. She needed to stay awake, because if she slept she would see him. She would see all the ways she’d failed.

“It wasn’t your fault, Inej, we’re having the same conversations on repeat can’t you see-,”

“And we’ll have them again,” she shrugged, “We will have this conversation again, Kaz, because I made a mistake and you are coddling me like a child who won’t be able cope if you tell them something was their fault. Tell me it was my fault, Kaz! We both know that it’s true,”

Kaz shook his head.

“I’d rather repeat the previous,”

“Then let’s,” snapped Inej, because hell if this jurda wasn’t strong enough to keep her awake then maybe an argument would be, “Let’s repeat the goddamn conversation, Kaz, because you’re right. We have the same two conversations on repeat and do you want to know why? Because I am owning up to the mistake I made and I am trying to deal with the consequences of it, but you had no right to do what you did, do you understand me? You messed up and you need to take some damn responsibility, because if you think-”

“You always knew Tailoring Dunyasha’s body to look like yours was a possibility for your escape option,” said Kaz, calmly.

She hated how quiet his voice was, how slow and deliberate he sounded next to the and ramblings that she could not stop from stumbling out of her.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” she hissed, slamming her jurda back down on the table.

“I couldn’t have done anything to stop that,”

“You could have tried,”

“Inej-”

“Shevrati,”

Know-nothing.

She waved a hand vaguely at the door.

“Get out,”

Kaz turned to leave, then paused.

“I am sorry, Inej. They’d like to see you upstairs, you know. Nina misses you,”

“Nina can come down here then,”

“Inej… I can’t do anything for you but apologise,”

“Keep you apologies,” she snarled, and when the door had closed behind him added: “Choke on them,”

Kaz could apologise all he wanted. She would not forgive him. What right did he have to expect anything different from her than this? Did any of them? Kaz had not had to watch his parents cry, as they carried home the body of a child that wasn’t theirs. Kaz had not had to feel the ironclad grip of the person he thought he’d trusted most in the world as they held him back and told him to swallow his sobs and keep quiet. Kaz had not given up and gone limp in their arms, a mess of tears and useless prayers, as he saw his parents slip from his grasp once again and knew that he would not have the chance to tell them truth.

Kaz had also not failed the others, and did not have to feel the truth of that choking him every time he saw them. Kaz had not spent almost three months barely daring to venture out of the half room, just so he would never have to lock eyes with Jesper Fahey. There was a scream inside Inej that had been slowly building itself since the day of the auction, and if she did not find a way to release it soon it may very well eat her alive.

[memswritesfics]

Like Sin & Seduction in the Shadows

Synopsis: In the dark of the night, the rogue prince sneaks into her canopy and she does not resist his advances despite knowing she probably should. But it was only for this one night and she was curious, wanting even. What harm could it do?

Word count: 4,122 words

Tags: soft!daemon?, body worship, V. fingering, Cunnilingus

Special mentions: Many thanks to @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for beta-reading this for me ever so promptly! I appreciate your input and effort greatly <3

She shouldn’t allow it.

The man was dastardly, and she should know. She had been married to him since she was fifteen years of age. He was a miscreant, even if he were a prince, one who specialised in corrupting women—and perhaps it was that very one among so many other deeds that had earned him the moniker the Rogue Prince, or so the rumours had said of him through their many years of wedded unbliss. And yet, he had never been held accountable for his actions. Or, rather, she had never bothered to hold him answerable, since they were barely in one another's lives. Until recently, that is, and quite recently, at that.

But still—she shouldn’t allow it. She should tell him to stop.

She should tell him to stop the way his fingers wandered through her loose, just-dried hair. She should tell him to stop the way they roamed ever so gently over her skin, sending shivers underneath the light fabric of her nightdress. She should tell him to stop the way his lips pressed soft, lingering kisses along her neck as he made his sinful promises to show her the bits, odds and ends of love he had never cared to show her on their wedding night. The night he had chosen to run away and leave her there as the unwanted bride that she had been.

Naturally, she knew this was not love that he promised to show her. It was carnal and lecherous. It was lust in all its aching hunger, a desire she had been imagining since the night he had risen from his bath after washing, having come to stand mere feet away from her with his back turned, shoulders wide, skin full of scars rightfully earned in battle. The stray thoughts that were summoned from that sight she beheld then had her admiring the man that she called her husband, a man who was every bit the warrior despite his roguish behaviour.

She had wanted even more once he kissed her in earnest surprise all those days ago, claiming that he wished to start over, even if she had never said it then. She had wished for that kiss to last forever and evermore, but he had not expressed such a wish to her. At least, not until now, when darkness had fallen and their conversation had gotten more honest and he had revealed his intentions to her when she had inadvertently touched him. It hadn’t been an accident, though.

She had wanted to touch him. And then he had, and it was wonderful. A part of her didn’t much care right then that she shouldn’t allow this, not when he had lifted his lips from where they played at the junction where her neck met her shoulder. Placing his lips at her ear, he had spoken, his words low and dark and full of wicked intent. ‘Tell me.'

He sucked the lobe of her ear and made everything worse. Or was it better? She wasn’t sure. It was difficult to form thoughts right then. 

‘Tell you?'

'Would you like me to show you this?'

Yes. A thousand times, yes! she found herself thinking all of a sudden.

Rhea swallowed, knowing instinctively that if she said no, he would stop. But did she wish to say no? She relished his touch. She had never been touched by another all this time and it was only now that he was finally willing to lay his claim on her. She was his, she reminded herself, all his to touch and explore. If ever there was a time when she wanted something, it was now. He scraped his teeth over her skin, sending a shiver of delight through her.

She gasped her answer. 'Please...'

She could hear the grin in his reply. 'Aren't you so polite?' he said.

She pulled away from him. 'Unless you wish to rescind your offer—’

He chuckled then; the sound was a pledge of something wonderful, yet wicked. 'Oh, no, not at all, wife' 

He kissed her again, and she was lost in darkness. She found it so very immoral and yet utterly appealing. He was making her confused with all these contradicting thoughts. It did not matter, for what would happen in this tent room tonight was only for them to know about and no one else. She consoled herself, knowing that this moment was nothing more than a dream that would fade away once the light of dawn had come to pass.

And it would.

Her husband, the Rogue Prince, did not love her, no matter what it was that was between them right then. She was more than aware that she was too uninteresting. Hardly beautiful. A bore to him. Those were but the tamest of all the other insults he had levied upon her over the years. But right then, in the darkness, she could pretend otherwise. She could pretend that this night was different and then tuck it away into her memories.

'What parts, Rhea?' He was at her ear again, his fingers stroking at the edge of her waist, right underneath her breasts. Each feather-light touch left a deliriously hot trail along her flesh underneath her nightgown. 'What has you curious?' 

Her cheeks should have been flaming at the question, but the darkness made her bold. 'All of it,' she replied matter-of-factly.

He let out a little snicker at the words. 'No,' he mused, moving his hand away, teasing her. ‘That’s isn't enough. Tell me, specifically.'

'I don’t know,' she said, the words coming from a wave of frustration. 'Touch me again.'

'Where?'

Everywhere.

'Rhea.’ He called to her like the devil at the door to the seven hells.

She fought for thought. 'A few years ago, I saw…' She trailed off, shocked by what she was about to tell him.

He stilled against her. 'Don’t stop there, sweetling. Tell me—what did you see?'

'I stumbled upon a stable hand. And a maid.'

'And?'

She shook her head.

'Where were you?'

'I was looking for a place to read.'

'Go on.'

'It had been raining. The day was full of chill, and so very dreary. My sister was talking incessantly about balls and gowns and gossip. But the stables were warm and quiet.'

'And what did you find there?' He kissed down her neck, long, lingering sucks that made it difficult to think.

'I… I was in the barn where the hay was kept. The hayloft.'

'And the stable hand was there? With the maid?' There was something in his tone that she’d never heard in a man’s voice before. Something breathless. Like... excitement? The thought made her excited, as well. More excited, as though such a thing were possible.

'No,' she confessed. 'They were in a stall.'

'And you looked?' His tongue swirled at the crest of her good shoulder.

'I didn’t mean to. I was only looking for a quiet place to read.'

‘I do not judge you.’ He licked — licked! — the skin between her shoulder and her nightdress, and she thought her breasts might break free of the thinness of the garment. 'I simply want to imagine the full scenario. What did you see?'

'At first nothing,' she said. 'I didn’t know they were there. If I had—’

'You never would have stayed. You’re too good a girl.'

'But once I heard them…'

He filled her silence. 'Once you heard them, you couldn’t stop yourself.'

'Even girls can be curious,’ she said, defending herself.

'Hm, and what did you see, Rhea?' His hand was moving now, over her thigh, toward her knee, the sound of it on the fabric of her gown unsettling her some.

'I couldn’t see much at first. I was looking down over the edge of the hayloft. I saw the tops of their heads. And they were kissing.’

His lips settled on hers, immediately lifting, leaving her quite desperate. 'Like that?'

She shook her head in the darkness. She shook her head in the darkness, her movements barely perceptible in the dim light. The night was thick and silent, wrapping around her like a shroud. She felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her, every slight rustle and whisper of the night amplifying her doubts. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions that swirled within her, but in the stillness, the only thing that seemed clear was the resolute shake of her head.

 'No.'

'How, then?'

'You know how.'

'I wasn’t there,' he said, and the teasing in his tone made her even more aware of him. 'Show me.'

The gods only knew how she had dared to do as she was told, to be so bold, but she did, running her hand up his arm, over his shoulder, to the back of his neck, pulling him to her. ‘Like this,’ she whispered, her voice faint with a mixture of fear and desire. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she guided him closer, her breath hitching with every inch they closed. Her heart pounded in her chest, the anticipation thrilling, as she surrendered to the moment, feeling his warmth against her, a connection that felt both inevitable yet completely unexpected.

She kissed him. Allowing her tongue to slide over his lips and into his mouth. He tasted like the sweet Dornish wine he had earlier that evening. She hummed, gasped and breathed, hoping that she was doing it right.

She heard him groan as he gathered her closer, closer to him, so very close on the bed they both sat upon, his touch careful, as though she were a most delicate thing he wished to preserve. Turning her so that her thighs draped over his lap, his hand found the hem of her nightdress and slid to her thighs, the touch warm and wonderful.

She was doing it right.

After a moment, he broke the kiss. 'Is that all you saw?'

No.

‘It became more…’ She trailed off, hoping he would fill in the label so that she did not have to. But of course, he did not. He was being purposefully difficult and she knew it. '... Erotic.'

The sound he made was best described as a growl. 'There are few things I like more than that word on your lips.'

'Erotic?'

He kissed her quickly, his tongue stroking deep before releasing her and leaving her breathless. 'What was so erotic, wife?'

She was lost in the memory again, in the hope that she might relive it now. Here. With him. 'He opened her dress.’

'Seven hells,’ Daemon exclaimed. 'I was hoping he would do that.'

And then, the hem of her nightdress was raised a little higher. She felt him tug at the ties at the front, and the neckline slipped down her shoulder, almost freeing her breasts. She gasped, the sensation welcome, but somehow not enough, for he did not touch her there. His hands were around her hips, and she found herself squirming on his lap, aching for his touch.

'Daemon,' she whispered.

The growl came again, softer, more breath than sound. 'Then what did he do?'

'He touched her.'

One finger found the curved underside of her breast, and it was so unexpected and so desired that she nearly leapt from her skin. He ran that single, notable finger in a long, slow circle around her breast, leaving fire and aching desire in its wake. 'Here?'

‘No.'

The circle became tighter, closer to where she wanted him, closer to where she’d only imagined anyone ever touching her in the dead of night, alone. Right at this very moment, it was the dead of night. But she was no longer alone.

'Here?'

She shook her head, a gesture he couldn't see but instinctively understood. The anticipation hung heavy in the air as the ring around them tightened, constricting her breath and making her heart race even more. The seconds stretched into an eternity, and she thought she might die from the unbearable tension of waiting.

'Here?'

'No.'

He stopped moving. 'Where? Show me.'

She barely believed it when she did as he asked, clasping his hand in hers and placing it where she wanted him, trailing it between the open folds of her nightdress to the innermost softness of the bare skin of her breast where she coaxed him to cup it. Laying claim to her sore nipple, he immediately gave her what she asked for, stroking and plucking at the straining tip until she sighed her pleasure, pressing against him, aching for him, aching for more. So much more.

'What did he do next?' The words grated like iron nails dragged across a slate, sending shivers down her spine and making her let out a low exhale.

'He kissed her,' she whispered. 'There.'

‘Smart man,' he said, and finally set those lips of his to where his fingers were, sucking gently, oh, so very gently, as though he had an eternity to explore her, and perhaps he did—and perhaps she would let him explore her for as long as he desired. She had given into her own desire now, and no longer cared about anything else. Nothing but him and all these wicked things he ignited within her.

But soon enough, his gentleness disappeared—soon, he was running his teeth across her hardened nipple in a most sinful caress. She cried out and slid her fingers into his hair to hold him there, but Daemon did not give her what she wished, instead lifting his mouth at her touch and blowing cool air across her flushed skin before lavishing similar attention on her other breast. 

It went on and on, back and forth, until she was straining for more of his touch, for more of his lovely mouth, for more of him. And he gave it to her, the hand at her thigh sliding farther beneath her nightdress along the length of her leg, higher and higher, until it stilled, at the soft skin of her inner thigh, fingers stroking softly as he lifted his head and spoke in the depraved dark. 

'And what did you think of it?'

'I thought—' She stopped, embarrassed by the memory.

He kissed the soft skin of her neck in a long, lingering caress. 'Did you wish it was you?'

'No...' she said, and it was true. 'I wished…’ She wished his hand would move. ‘I wished I could feel it, though. I wished someone would worship me like that. I wished I could command that kind of attention.'

He kissed her again, long and slow and deep. 'This kind?'

She sighed. 'Yes. And then he—’

In her silence, those fingers stroked and stroked, slow and deliberate, as though he had nothing more to do ever. She couldn’t tell him. Could she?

But it was dark, and they were cloaked in secrets anyway, and when they left the Stepstones, they would part ways. Why not tell him?

Then he lifted her nightdress. The fingers stilled for barely a moment, a tiny hitch that she might not have noticed if she weren’t so busy noticing him. And suddenly, she felt very, very powerful. The words broke free, the words she’d never imagined saying out loud—the memory she barely allowed herself to remember. 'And then he got to his knees.'

His whispered curse came out part blasphemy, part benediction. 'And what did he do?'

'I imagine you know, Daemon,' she said, drunk on the way the moment consumed her.

'I know what I would like to do.'

And then he was dropping at her feet to the floor right in front of her, in the darkened confines of her canopy, lowering himself to his knees. Rhea was grateful for the darkness, because she wasn’t certain she would ever be able to look at this man again. Cool air kissed her legs as he raised her nightdress, folding it all the way up onto her lap before pulling her to the edge of her seat and spreading her legs wide.

Her cheeks flamed; she wore no undergarments and she suddenly found herself so very exposed even if her mind knew it was dark and that thought was so very absurd of her. Belatedly, she tried to close her thighs, but he held her open. 

'Rhea?' he asked, and the world was wrapped up in her name.

'Yes?'

Daemon then hummed, perhaps a little too amusedly, before pressing a kiss to the inside of her knee, and she jumped at the unexpected touch. He chuckled, low and liquid in the space, then spoke to the sensitive skin there. 'Do you want me to show you this bit?'

All the bits, odds and ends of it all.

'I can smell you, and I want so exceedingly to taste you. To show you just what that stable hand did to his maid.' His fingers moved, and she stiffened as they touched her, barely, a whisper of him over the hair at the junction between her thighs. 'You’re so warm. And I wager so very wet, as well. But I won’t do it until you tell me. Until you give me permission.'

Yes. Yes!

'Do you...' She trailed off. Recovered. 'Do you wish to? Show me?’

He exhaled, hot and delightful against her. ‘I do not believe I have ever desired anything in my life with such intensity as I crave to show you right this very instant,’ he murmured, his hand gently tracing the curve of her thigh, his words burning fire within her with every caress made, with syllable uttered, and every single breath he took.

Her stomach clenched, as did with somewhere lower, deeper, much more hidden.

'He made her scream,' she whispered, the story helping to keep her wits about her.

That charming chuckle again sent shivers down her spine. How had she never known he could produce such a sound? It was not completely beyond her understanding. For they had shielded so much from one another in all their years together or apart. And yet this soft laugh he shared with her this very night, felt like a secret shared only between them, a revelation that made her heart flutter and her cheeks flush. She marvelled at how this simple, delightful noise could feel so intimate, so enthralling, and so utterly new. 

‘I hope he did. And I would very much like to do the same to you. But you must stay quiet, lest we give the roaming guards a show.' He inhaled, long and deep, and exhaled before he said, 'You are slowly torturing me, wife. Tell me you want it, and I’ll give it to you. Everything you desire. And more.'

Yes. Yes!

She stood on a precipice, feeling as though this decision more than all the others of the past several weeks would change everything. But there was no question—she wanted this bit. This odds and ends of it all. And she wanted it from him.

‘Yes,' she said. 

Before the word gave way to silence, he was there, his fingers pressing, parting the folds where she wanted him most, exploring in delicious strokes and slides. He groaned, bringing a finger to those lips, tracing their outline, running the edge of his fingernail along the fleshy skin before his fingers slid inside of her. 

'So wet,' he said in between kisses to the soft skin of her inner thighs. 'Were you wet then?' he asked, wickedly. ' In the hayloft? '

'I don’t know,' she responded, not quite truthfully.

‘No?' he said, stilling, torturing her with the lack of his touch. Punishing her for her lie.

'Yes,' she finally admitted. ' I was wet. '

He spread her wide and she closed her eyes at the touch. Lewd, lascivious, yet lovely. All over again and at once she was thankful for the darkness and yet at the same time quite desperate for the light. She squirmed beneath his touch, unnerved by this growing primitive demand to move as though she were frantic for more. So much more. Something very unusual was growing within her, something hot and tingling. It felt as if, after all these years, she was finally beginning to truly come alive.

' Did you touch yourself? '

She shook her head, a silent denial of the thoughts that had plagued her. Her hands, driven by an instinctive need, searched for him with a fervent urgency. Fingers tangled in the softness of his hair, feeling the silken strands slip through her grasp. It was a touch that grounded her, and brought her back from the whirlwind of doubt and confusion. Holding him close, she felt a sense of comfort in the simple act of finding him in the dark. 

' No. ' He stopped again and her fingers curled against him. 'It’s true. I didn’t. But…'

He blew softly on the exposed core of her. ' But? '

She inhaled, the breath ragged and not enough, and though it was he who knelt, it was she who confessed. ' But I wanted to. '

He rewarded the honesty with his mouth, consuming her like fire, his tongue stroking in long, slow licks, curling in a slick promise at the arduous warmth of her pleasure. She lifted her hips to meet his phenomenal mouth, uncaring that the action could be called nothing but wanton. She did want.

For she desired. She ached. She needed.

And he gave without moderation. The fingers of one hand held her wide as those of the other explored, pressing deep, curling, finding a spot that made her writhe without care for anything but him and his wonderful touch. All Rhea could think at that moment was how the waves that overtook her were stronger than she had imagined. This was desire, raw and unfiltered. This was need, urgent and undeniable. How foolish she had been to ever think she could resist it. How naive to believe she could be stronger than the tides of passion that now surged within her, pulling her under, leaving her breathless and wanting.

' Daemon... ' she whispered, and he lifted his mouth from her.

' Tell me what you like. '

She shook her head. ' I don’t know. '

He licked, long and slow and devastating. Taking his sweet time as though he had all the time in the world and not a thing to attend to. Nothing but her and this sweet, sinful seduction he had taken upon himself to suddenly inflict upon her. This was everything he had refused to give her all those years they had been married. Yet, here he was now leaving her shamelessly exposed, wretched and wanting. She mewled and arched her back, offering herself to him like a secret whispered in the dark. Why not, if only for tonight?

' You do, though. ' He set his tongue to the firm bud at the top of her, working until she gasped his name again. ' You like that. '

' I do, ' she groaned. ' More. '

He chuckled, a sound like pure sin in the darkness, like the Black Dread himself. ' As you demand, my lady. ' 

He set his mouth to her again.

She swiftly blossomed into a master of expressing her desires to him, even as she unearthed them herself, employing words she never imagined would ever escape her lips, words that would forever mar her in the eyes of polite society. But she did not care about polite company. She only cared about his company, this glorious man who showed her more in the darkness than she had ever known in the light. As he did her bidding, his touch accompanied by a low, rumbling growl, she came closer and closer to the edge he had promised her, her sighs growing louder and louder still until she finally cried out his name.

And then he just stopped.

She sprang forward, sitting up straight in protest. ' No! '

He pressed her back against the seat and whispered, ' What did I say about you being quiet? ' He lowered his head and kissed her gently, openmouthed, teasingly. ' You must remain quiet, Rhea. We mustn’t be heard. '

The words had a wicked impact, sending desire flooding through her once more. He was asking the impossible. ' Should we stop? ' she asked, hating the question.

' Dear gods, no. We shouldn’t stop. '

Rhea gave a little sigh of relief, that soon turned into a soft exhalation which hinted at her easing tension, but it quickly changed into a gasp as his lips found hers once more. The kiss was unexpected, yet it carried a warmth and intensity that left her breathless, her heartbeat quickening.

In that moment, the world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the sensation of his touch, the taste of his lips, and the heady feeling of being completely consumed by his complete and utter seduction. Desire it seemed was a terrible, dreadful thing and yet she was giving herself to it tonight willingly. 

' I quite desperately want you to scream, wife, ' he said between idle, unbearable licks. ' I want to pick you up, lay you down beneath the stars, and make you scream again, and again, and again. '

She stifled a cry at his lecherous words and his licentious touch, stiffening. Clenching her fingers in his hair. ' Please, Daemon. '

' Shhhh. ' He spoke directly to the core of her, the rush of air against her heat making her wild and somehow, she knew he had done that quite so intentionally. ' Be careful. ' And then his fingers moved again, joining in her torture, sliding deep, stroking and curling again and again. ' They might hear us. '

The words did nothing but excite her further. It grew worse as he teased and tempted with his fingers, reminding her to be quiet in that wicked voice, so very full of villainous enjoyment, as though he knew he was slowly destroying her, making her want him more and more than she’d ever wanted anything in all her thirty and some years.

' They might hear us,' he repeated to the core of her, his warm breath making her ache as his fingers worked against her. ' They might hear you, your little cries, the way you call my name, like sin and sex in the darkness. '

She wasn’t sin and sex, though. He was—like sin and seduction in the Shadows

But when he set his mouth to her, she widened her thighs and lifted herself to him, proving him right. She bit back the cries that came again and again as he pressed more firmly, and rubbed more deliberately, giving her everything she desired.

' Don’t stop, ' she whispered. ' Please, Daemon. Don’t stop. '

He didn’t, not even as the tension built with no compulsion, with no release. She fell into the darkness, victim to his skilful tongue and lips and touch, taking everything he offered her without any hesitation. Rocking against him, she felt the ground beneath her tremble when she was certain it did not, and the tension he had built up so maliciously released in glorious, sinful sensation. She forgot everything but him, his dark growls and his strong grip and his wonderful, marvellous mouth.

When the pleasure crested, breaking over her, breaking her, it was he who held her together, letting her explore all the corners of pleasure without hesitation. Without embarrassment. Without shame.

Perhaps it was the darkness that kept the shame away. Because she should have been ashamed, shouldn’t she? Ladies did not behave in such a manner. But somehow, she did not feel ashamed, even as he lifted his mouth from her, lifted his touch from her, restored her nightdress and took his place beside her in her bed.

She realised then that somehow, it was easy to be without shame with him. He had always been shameless, uncaring of anything or of what anyone might say of him. It is something she had learned to emulate from him in her younger years when he had left her all alone to fend for herself amongst the many men who doubted her.

She yawned as he wrapped her in his arms and whispered, ' Did you like that? '

The bits, odds and ends of love.

She stiffened at first, finding his closeness strange and unusual, but soon, she relaxed and found herself curling into his heat. She ignored the way he held her as though she were his and she ought to believe it—she wasn't. This was nothing but an exchange of comfort that she had allowed herself to experience, allowed herself to discover, nothing more and nothing less. Even so, she told him the truth.

' Very, very much. '

[deusvervewrites]

Ochako drained the last of her energy drink from the can as she walked through the door. Probably not the healthiest thing to drink, especially so early on in the day, but she stayed late last night doing her homework and really needed a boost. Next time, she's going to have to manage her time better, if only to make sure Togetic doesn't pick up any bad habits. She might not have embraced that whole parent thing fully like Mina did, but she ought to at least try to be a good example, right?

"*boom*" ...Which is also why she most definitely won't be cursing Bakugou out, despite him deciding to train at Fuck You in the morning. "Die, you piece of shit!" Screaming, too.

Walking into a room, she saw him glaring at one of the Lairons, Kirishima's judging by the eyes. The Pokemon was obviously enjoying the guy's anger, laughing in a series of 'rons'.

"You know..." Ochako started, drawing the attention of both of them. "Some people want to sleep in a bit during a weekend."

"Then they should stop wasting their fucking time," Bakugou grumbled back, before going back to staring at the Pokemon. "I'll get you one day, you piece of shit..."

At the start of the year, Ochako might have left it at that, but Gardevoir showed off plenty of times that riling Bakugou up can be great fun if you know how to do it, and Ochako has been a very good student! "C'mon, it can't be that hard."

"You fucking try, then! See how you like it!"

Ochako knew it was probably a bad idea. But Ochako was also on a whole lot of caffeine at the moment, and besides, she was never one to pass on a challenge! "Okay!"

She measured the Pokemon in front of her as it did the same for her, a challenging glint in its eyes. She let out a deep breath, then opened up with a simple palm strike... that instantly launched the poor thing back into the air, a roar of pain coming out of its mouth before it passed out.

Bakuou blinked once. Twice. Then, he looked at the soda can still in Ochako's other hand. "...What the fuck kinda energy drink..."

🖤

Bakugou's been bamboozled

[zeherili-ankhein]

— AU FIC WITH NEXT GENERATION HASHIRAS —

I like to think all the mistresses of the Butterfly estate had a side chick hashira, with whom they had unparalleled natural chemistry.

Like Kanae had Sanemi, with whom she was kind of friends with and their bond was quite a bit strong.

Then Shinobu had Giyuu, with her teasing him about not having friends and being the only one who tried to talk to him.

Then Kanao and Tanjiro. (In my AU where they are the next generation hashiras)

And Aoi and Inosuke. (In my AU where she rejioned the demon slayers and becomes the next mistress of the estate after shinobu)

And maybe one of the caterpillar girls (most probably Kiyo) and Sengoku. (In my AU where he becomes the next flame breather)

It is kind of a tradition at this point.

[dreamingofep]

Sinned Awakening

An AU Elvis fic

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis’ full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, mentions of verbal abuse, mentions of drug and alcohol use, blood/gore

Rating: PG-13ish?, will become explicit later on😈

Word Count: 4.2K

A/N: Hello everyone!

As I mentioned before, I had this on the back burner for a while and am very excited to get this out to you. I’ve loved vampires for such a long time and what could be better if you mixed them with Elvis involved🤭 Bit different flow than my other fics in the past but I think you’ll like the mystery behind it all. Please let me know what you think in the comments or send me a message!

Thank you again!

Sorry for any spelling mistakes and overall goofs. 🖤

January 25, 1973

Your bones ached after being on your feet for twelve whole hours. You needed to take off this suffocating uniform too while you’re at it. It clung to you uncomfortably and made you feel gross after a long day. You head to the locker room to change and go home, practically shoving everything in your locker and slinging your purse over your shoulder heading for the door.

“Y/n! Tanya wants to see you!” Someone yells from across the room. You huff, annoyed that she couldn’t talk to you any other time of the day and had to wait for the second you were going to get off. Tanya was your supervisor, she was tolerable, but still got on your nerves. You couldn’t completely hate her. She was the one who gave you a chance and gave you this job in the first place when you and Daniel moved out here.

You take a deep breath and quickly make your way to the back office. You knock on the door before entering and peeking your head in.

“You asked to see me?” You say politely, trying to not show the agitation in your voice.

“Ah yes, y/n, sit down I need to talk to you,” Tanya says sternly. Your stomach turns with her tone and your mind scrambles to find something you did wrong in the past few days.

You take a seat in the ripped-up leather chair and straighten out your uniform.

“I just wanted to talk to you about your performance lately,” she pauses and your heart drops to your stomach.

You don’t respond and wait for her to say something next.

“It’s been exceptional. You have no write-ups and haven’t been late once. Everyone compliments you on how the rooms look after you clean them I’m very impressed. You have definitely made a great impression on management here.”

You look at her a bit shocked, like all of this sounds too good to be true. You always put in all of your effort to do a great job but you never thought you’d get noticed for it. There are over a hundred people on the housekeeping staff and you thought no one would ever notice your work.

“Oh thank you. I appreciate you noticing the effort I’ve put in.” You say shyly.

“So management and I have decided to move you to a different position.” Your eyes brows raise and look at her inquisitively.

“Laura is moving away and that means her job is going to need to be taken over.” You try and wrack your brain for who Laura was but she doesn’t ring a bell. She was very quiet and had a different shift than you so you normally didn’t cross paths.

“Laura took care of the penthouse and I would like you to take over that position.” She says matter of factly and not in the form of a question. You were to do this, no ifs ands or buts.

You stare wide-eyed, almost not believing what you just heard.

The penthouse was where Elvis Presley lived.

The private and secluded king of rock and roll.

The man who changed the world with his voice and moves.

He’d become something of a recluse lately. The public didn’t see him very often other than for shows and he was upstairs in the penthouse for days on end. He had a very mysterious side to him with the way he was acting. He wasn’t the vibrant young rock musician like in the 50s, he was much more refined and had a sullen demeanor. You had never met him before even though you’ve worked here for four years now. You wouldn’t dare wander up to the penthouse to get a glimpse of him or you’d sure be fired. It was clear that when you got hired to not make it up to the penthouse under any circumstances.

You really liked him though, you loved how his voice made you feel. You remember having a few pictures of him in your room in the 60s and flocking to the movie theater with your girlfriends to see his latest picture. And the way those hips moved… oh God focus.

“I-i umm thank you, I appreciate you acknowledging my work. How would this exactly work though? Would the penthouse get put into my rotation every few days or…” you question as your mind runs a million miles an hour realizing you were going to meet Elvis Presley.

“Well you see, Mr. Presley is very… particular. He only calls for housekeeping when he wants it or he will be calling every day so it would be easier if you worked full time up there. We’ll pay you a few extra dollars for this since it is a different pace and everything,” she instructs.

You feel so overwhelmed. Your heart jumps at the fact that you’ve been promoted basically and will be catering to Elvis but on the other hand, Tanya’s tone of how she talks about him makes your skin crawl.

Particular?

What exactly does he do to cause people to talk about him like that?

What the hell does he do all day cooped up in there between shows?

“Thank you for the opportunity, I’d be more than happy to take on this role,” you say confidently.

“Wonderful, you’ll start tomorrow at 3 pm,” she says reaching into the drawer to give you a key to the elevator to give you access to the penthouse.

“3 pm? Isn’t that late?” You ask confused.

She chuckles to herself, “Elvis normally doesn’t get up til then so that’s when your shift starts,” she explains.

You take the key and thank her once more and make a beeline for the door before you can embarrass yourself any further. Heading back to the locker room, you realize nerves rattle your bones. Maybe it’s because it’s Elvis Presley you’re going to be catering to that makes you nervous but you wanted to get home as soon as possible to not freak yourself out and give back the job offer.

You get in your dusty car and onto the freeway to head home. You lived with your fiancé, Daniel, in North Las Vegas in a small two-bedroom apartment.

You weren’t the normal couple by any means, for one you lived together before being married and that was frowned upon by everyone. Your abusive father lived in the bottle and you couldn’t handle living in the same house anymore. You and Daniel were getting serious and he asked if you wanted to move in with him. You thought it was a godsend that you could escape your turbulent household and have somewhere safe. It was safe, but the longer you’ve lived there the more you realize the bad habits he has made normal.

It was 1973 and cocaine was running like wildfire in Las Vegas. If you had some kind of elite status, coke was the drug of choice. Even if you were a no body, you would be offered some at any party you showed up to. And while Daniel tried to act coy and politely refuse it, he would disappear in the bathroom for minutes at a time and come out looking higher than a kite.

You couldn’t forget the night you came home from work and he was high out of his mind, he didn’t even recognize you and in a paranoid episode, he threw his scotch glass at you, screaming at the top of his lungs to get out. The glass hit your forearm and shattered at your feet, leaving shards of glass in your ankles and toes. It scared the living hell out of you and for the first time were petrified of him.

The next morning he didn’t remember any of it, gave no apology and moved on as if nothing happened. It still bugged you and you told him you don’t like it when he does drugs. He assured you he only does it every once in a while and he has it under control.

But he definitely didn’t. Part of you wanted to end things because you could see it going down a dark path, but on the other hand, he was the only love you had known. And in the moments that he wasn’t on a substance, you loved him deeply. You felt the love that you two shared and wouldn’t give up on each other. You met in college and the sparks flew instantly. You had never felt serious for anyone ever and liked being around him. The years went on and he asked you to marry him, you couldn't have been more happy and said yes. He promised he’d take care of you always. For a while, he kept his promise, but lately, that hasn’t been true.

He was a bouncer at different clubs in Vegas and with the late nights for him and early morning shifts for you meant you barely ever saw each other. The apartment was almost always empty and cold as your heart felt. You longed for a fiancé that would miss you and be excited when he saw you home. Instead, you both were two ghosts passing each other, barely acknowledging each other’s presence. You didn’t want to give up, but something was going to have to change in order for you to stay.

*

It was strange to clock into work so late. Normally you start your shift at 6 am, but today you rolled into work at 2:45 pm and found the locker room completely barren and quiet. Putting on your uniform piece by piece, you realize how self-conscious you felt. It finally hits you, you’re going to meet Elvis Presley in the flesh today and you wanted to make a good impression. There wasn’t a wrinkle left on your blouse or your skirt. You starched the hell out of it where it almost looks like it doesn’t move when you walk. Checking your hair in the mirror, you smooth back some of the fly always and take a deep breath.

You couldn’t pinpoint why you were so nervous, management obviously thought you were right for the job considering your current performance. It was probably the name and the image that intimidated you the most. You couldn’t let down Elvis in any way and if Tanya was correct, you were going to have to conform to his “particular” ways that he wanted things and do everything his way.

The shrill ring of the telephone jolts you out of your straying thoughts and jump up to pick the receiver off the wall.

“Hello housekeeping, this is y/n,” Your voice soft and gentle.

“Mr. Presley is requesting your services in the penthouse as soon as possible,” said the voice in a low, unwavering tone. His voice gives you a chill down your spine and you physically shiver as you stand there with the phone’s receiver in your hand.

“Yes absolutely, I’ll be right up,” you try to say quickly before hearing the click of the other line hang up. You take the phone away from your ear and hang it up, taking a long breath in before turning on your heels to the elevator, trying not to let this first interaction bother you.

Placing the key in the elevator to give you access to the penthouse, the ride up to the twenty-ninth floor felt agonizingly long and you take another moment to straighten out your uniform. Your hands tighten on the cleaning cart and sweat begins to form on the palm of your hands. The ding of the elevator makes you jump and you shake your arms at your side, trying to calm your restless nerves.

“Okay here we go,” you mutter to yourself.

The doors open and a tall man is waiting in front of the elevator for you. He’s wearing all black and dark sunglasses where you can barely see the outline of his eyes. He doesn’t move right away and if you were just passing by, you could almost mistake him for a statue.

You try to find the words but feel incredibly intimidated, you’re not sure if this was the man that called but your heart jumps.

“Right this way,” the man finally says in a short low tone. He reaches out his hand to point you in the right direction and you push the cart out in front of you and make slow, careful steps down the hall. On your left, you reach two double doors, framed with gold accents and a plaque in the middle of the door that read, “Elvis Presley.”

You look back at the man that was closely following you and he nods his head for you to go in. Your hand shakily wraps around the gold handle and pushes the door open. With your back against the door, you keep it open as you pull the cleaning cart into the room, being extra careful to not scratch up the door frame.

The heavy door closes behind you once you’re completely in and there is so much to take in.

The living room is very low-lit, only a lamp in the corner of the room was on and the velvety red curtains kept out all the sun from coming in. The stillness of the room kept you on edge, you don’t see Elvis anywhere to give you instructions of where to start made you keep scanning the room for a sign of life. The room looked like a tornado had struck here as you look down at your feet with plates and various alcohol bottles scattered around. There was a black grand piano by the windows and a large mirror by the the door that connected to the next room you presume.

Something else catches your attention; the way the suite smelled. God, it was the most intoxicating smell that you had ever stumbled upon. Something about it was comforting and refreshing all at the same time. You wished you could put this in a bottle and take it home to make your house smell this good. It almost made you want to lay down and take a nap right here, making you engulfed with it.

“About time you showed up,” a gruff, deep voice says in the corner of the room. Your head snaps back to where the lamp is and you see a tall man dressed in black velvet with a white shirt under his jacket buttoned down to the middle of his torso, exposing his white skin and sunglasses on, blocking his eyes. You swallow harshly and make yourself focus on the task at hand rather than obsessing over how good this place smells.

You clear your throat and make your way to him in the corner of the room, “I’m very sorry to keep you waiting Mr. Presley. My name is y/n, I’m your new housekeeper.” You say timidly, placing out your hand in front of you to shake his. He looks down at your hand, and even though you can’t see his eyes that well, you know he’s looking at you in disgust. You quickly retract it and put it at your side, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt nervously.

“Umm, where would you like me to start cleaning?” You ask, your voice upbeat and trying to hide the fact of feeling like this is rejection in some form.

“Where do you think,” he snaps coldly. Being this close to him, his size of stature looms over you and makes you feel incredibly small. Like he could crush you by just looking at you. Your heart starts to beat faster by that thought and you take some steps back.

“Okay, no problem. Do you mind if I open the drapes so I can see what I’m cleaning?” You ask with a smile.

“I don’t care, just get it done,” he says coldly. You quickly turn and go to the window to pull the curtains apart to let the light in. You turn around and you get a better sense of what the state of the room is in. There was so much trash scattered throughout the room and spilled food everywhere. You take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself, and your eyes find Elvis sitting on one of the chairs in the opposite corner of the room.

You can’t help but stare at him, his pale white skin beaming against the sunlight shining on him. His gold chains hanging from his neck looked like golden strands of an angel’s hair on him. He sat with his legs spread open and his hand resting at his crotch, the other arm resting lazily off the side of the chair. His stature made you think of a king’s. The way he could command a room without saying anything. He was distractingly attractive and your body wanted to get closer to him. It made no sense of why you felt this way. He hasn’t said more than two sentences to you but you feel like crumbling at his feet. He was better looking in person, pictures could not do him justice and you felt bad for staring, but you’re sure he gets it all the time.

You walk over to your cart and take a trash bag out to start clearing the floor, trying to collect your thoughts and not let yourself be so distracted by him. It feels daunting to clean all of this by yourself but you assure yourself that you can do this. You work your way from the windows back to the front door. The entire time though as you are picking up wet soggy food and used cups, you get a chill that runs through your body and looks over your shoulder to find Elvis staring crater-sized holes into your back. Your heart thumps wildly, something about him made you incredibly nervous. But another part of you liked it. It was awful you shouldn’t be feeling like this! You were engaged for God's sake and can’t have your mind wander like that when a man gives you an ounce of attention.

At least he gives you attention…

After 4 bags of trash, you start to dust and carefully put back all his miscellaneous items back in their place.

“Make sure you make the bathroom spotless,” he directs.

You nod your head at him, “Yes sir, absolutely. Do your other rooms need to be done today?” You say.

“Yes the other rooms need dusting,” he says, “but under no circumstances do you go in my bedroom without my permission. I forbid it.” He says harshly. You feel goosebumps form on your arms as he says this and stares at you from behind the sunglasses.

You swallow and clear your voice, “yes sir. Thank you for letting me know,” you say without your voice wavering.

He follows you to every room you go in and watches you like a hawk. Silently critiquing your every move, waiting for you to make a mistake you presume. He keeps a safe distance away from you most of the time but other times, he gets so close that you could almost bump into him. The closer he is to you, the more suffocating it feels. Suffocating yet alluring. Like you don't want to leave his side. It’s such a strange feeling to have when you’re around someone. You always avert your eyes when you move around him to clean the next area, it’s the only way you could get things done.

The last room is finished and you pile everything on your cart. It only took four hours but you did it. You start pushing the cart towards the door again when the sudden boom of his voice fills the room.

“There’s a bottle underneath the piano,” he grumbles.

Shit, you think to yourself. He's already ticked off.

You quickly make it to the piano and set the bench aside, kneeling down on your knees to crawl underneath. Your eyes scan for the bottle he said was here but you can’t find it. You reach your hand out and crawl on the floor until you hit the curtain and you hear a clank hit the wall. The bottle had rolled under the curtain and was laying flush against the baseboard. The expensive bottle glimmered when you pulled it away from the curtain and it hit the light, revealing a crack down the middle of it.

How the hell did he see this, you think to yourself annoyed. He probably planted this here to test you and you failed perfectly. Probably is going to make a complaint and ask for another housekeeper. Fucking idiot.

You crawl backward out from underneath the piano and stand back up. You quickly turn around and Elvis is standing inches away from you, his breathing heavy. Your body jumps when you see him and gasp at his close proximity, your hands involuntarily squeezing on the bottle, making it shatter in your hands.

You cry out as you feel shards of glass get pierced into your palms. You drop the remnants of the bottle on the floor and watch the glass fall at your feet. Letting out a frustrated groan, you stare at your palms filled with glass as blood starts to quickly leak out of the wounds, the pain stabbing at you over and over.

Elvis makes a frustrated groan and grabs your wrist, squeezing it uncomfortably tight. You gasp again at not only the pressure around your wrist but how cold and disturbingly strong he was.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He barks loudly, sending another chill through your body. You try to back up and the piano keys hit your thigh, making a tumultuous amount of sounds behind you as you try to get free from his grip. Your balance gets wobbly and you place your other hand on the keys to keep yourself from not topping over. The pressure of this only makes the shards of the glass go deeper inside your hand and you cry out loudly again. Your blood smears onto the keys and tears well in your eyes.

“Ahhh! Please, I'm so sorry about this. Let me clean this up,” you cry. You glance over at the other hand he is holding up and see the trails of blood drip drown your arm, his fingers also covered in your crimson blood. Your eyes grow wide and your breathing becomes uneven. So does his. He can't calm down with what you've just done.

“Get the fuck out,” he growls violently, disgust filling his voice. Your body shakes uncontrollably and he quickly lets go of your wrist. Your feet try to scurry away but they feel like jello as you manage to stumble your way to the door. You pick the large shards out of your palm and throw them on the floor. You don’t care about the mess you’ve made you just need to get away from him.

You’re in too much of a panic to grab your cart and reach for the handle of the door, smearing more of your blood in his suite. You push the door open and bolt past the men that have congregated at the door, having heard Elvis’ outbursts. Slamming the back of your hand on the elevator button, the doors quickly open and you rush in, pushing the basement floor and your chest heaves as you watch the doors close.

Your head spins and you feel like you could puke. The wrath that Elvis exhibited was terrifying. He acted like he was a caged animal watching you stand there bleeding. You knew you were going to get called into the office tomorrow morning and get either demoted or just fired.

You turn on the faucet and let the cool water spread over your wounds, wincing at the pain. You pick out the remaining small shards in your hand and go find the first aid kit. You wrap both of your hands with gauze and the bleeding finally stops. Glancing at the clock it’s past 7 o' clock and you don’t know where to go. You assumed your shift was over since he kicked you out but you didn’t want to go home to Daniel that was surely waking up soon to go to work and get a million questions of where you’ve been.

After you calm yourself down, you go to the parking lot and get in your car where you can feel the tears well in your eyes after a terrible day.

You made Elvis incredibly upset. He yelled at you and kicked you out. You couldn't do the one thing you were supposed to do and you bled all over his suite. Your heart jumped into your throat when you thought of what Tanya was going to say to you tomorrow morning. Resting your head on the steering wheel, you let all the tears come pouring out. Sobs and gasps fill the empty car and you try to calm yourself down but it doesn’t work, you’re too upset at your actions and you feel the world collapsing around you.

Suddenly, you get a chill that runs through your body, the same type you got when Elvis was staring at you intensely. You quickly lift your head off the steering wheel and peer out into the dark garage. There’s not a soul there as sirens go off in the distance. You shake your head at yourself, foolishly thinking Elvis would ever come down from the penthouse and check on you and possibly apologize.

You put the key into the ignition and start the car, driving away from the hotel as you prepare yourself for tomorrow’s firing.

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