#Plan M occurred later

[breeezytoast]

John: Is this your plan B?

Arthur: Techincally, this is plan P

John: Is there a plan M?

Arthur: Yes, but I marry Charles in plan M

Charles: I like plan M

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Entangled. // Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader x Alys Rivers

MDNI ; reader discretion is advised.

Summary: after so much loss, you had been betrothed and later married off to aemond as a means to put an end to the war, he takes you to harrenhal where you meet his mistress, Alys rivers. What can possibly unfold?

WARNINGS: dubcon (I'm not sure but I'm adding it just to be safe), unprotected sex, p in v sex, slight breeding kink, tiddy sucking, m/f/f, cunnilingus, threesome, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, polygamy(?), witch stuff, aemond x alys, alys x reader, aemond x reader, canon typical incest, war, loss, slight angst, slight fluff, contains spoilers for fire and blood, canon divergence, reader doesn't have a description. + not proofread.

A/N: here's a fic as promised before I leave for 2 weeks due to mid terms! hope you all enjoy it! // divider credit: @cafekitsune

WC: 2.8k

The war was devastating to you and your siblings, having lost both luke and jace, you were terrified for your life as well as your younger sibling's.

You watched as your family fell apart, slowly but surely, all of them ended up dying, leaving you and your younger siblings alone and estranged. The moment you heard your stepfather, daemon's, death; you knew that it was over, there was no more winning anymore.

Especially with Aemond surviving the fight.

Loss, Grief, and Sorrow were emotions you became familiar with.

You had to anyway.

Because with war, there would always be the plague of such pessimistic emotions that would follow, with every news it will only grow stronger.

Alas, the greens ended up winning the war.

And Alicent, as a way to make sure none of this repeats again, has quickly betrothed you to her second son, prince regent, Aemond, while your younger brother Aegon III was betrothed to Jaehaera.

It's not as if you and Aemond were on bad terms before the war, it would rather be described as more… tolerable. Aemond didn't hold any feelings towards you, neither negative nor positive.

Is what you had taught.

Until you found out that halfway through your wedding procession that it was Aemond who proposed the idea of marrying you to him, Alicent had only planned for Aegon and Jaehaera's betrothal.

You exchanged your vows half heartedly, and as soon as the wedding had ended, Aemond wasted no time and immediately whisked you away with him to Harrenhal, which he inherited and resides there to rule rather than at the keep.

You had not spoken a word to him ever since the departure. You did not want to.

Harrenhal looked and felt ominous, everything about it screamed danger, whether it was the rumours about the curses that surrounded this place, or just the overall aesthetics and appearance of it, it scared you.

You knew that it was destroyed and basically melted during Aegon's conquest, but it seemed Aemond had tried his very best to rebuild the place, yet the result was more horrific than it was ‘fixed’ you would've preferred if it had been just left untouched.

Aemond, wanting to go all the way with the formalities, he gave you a tour of the castle, before stopping in front of his chamber, a private residence where only he is allowed, “This is our chamber.” He said.

Ah yes, it also belongs to you now, doesn't it? You are his wife after all. You nodded, not wishing to speak to him, the guard opened the door.

As you both entered inside, there was already a woman who seemed to be waiting, as if she knew you both would be coming. “Aemond, you have returned.” She stood up from her seat, putting the book down, addressing him informally.

Not your grace, my prince or any formal title, just Aemond.

You took note of her appearance, hair as dark as the night sky, eyes that resembled emeralds, donning a valyrian steel necklace.

Alys rivers.

Aemond's mistress.

“Alys, I have not permitted you to enter my chambers.” Aemond speaks calmly, not realising the awkward situation that has occured with you in the room. “Oh come on Aemond, do not be so cold, Is she your wife?” She turned the conversation to you and you wished the ground would swallow you whole because of the tension in the air.

“Yes, she is.” Aemond confirms and she hums, “And you must be his mistress.” You speak, breaking the silence you maintained all throughout, acknowledging her presence, catching her by surprise. “Oh? You're know of me?” she asks and you nod, “How can i not? When there's words of your presence infiltrating every corner of the world, after all, Who could the prince have taken as a mistress after his betrothal to Floris broke?” You question, eyebrows raised, you see Aemond visibly tense, likely feeling the tension now.

“What have you heard of me, Princess?” Alys asks, tilting her head to the side, “That you are very beautiful, eyes that shone brightly like the stars amidst the night sky; that is your hair.” You tell her truthfully making her lips break into a smirk, “And what else?” She doesn't break eye contact, it's your turn to smirk now, “That you must wield powers, which you had used to bewitch the prince.” You watch as her smirk turns into a smile, “What exactly are you implying princess?”

“That you are a witch.” You put implication on the word ‘witch’, Aemond coughs awkwardly and her chuckle breaks the silence and you giggle as well, “And what do you think of it?”

Why was she so curious to know of your opinion?

“Mhm, I cannot speak for everyone, but I do not believe it, I can say that for sure.” You tell her your opinion, “And why is that so?” she asks, “Because- it's just my opinion.” you shrug and she smiles.

“Alys, you can leave now.” Aemond interferes, kicking her out and you give her a smile which she returns as she leaves the chambers. “I apologise.” Aemond expresses his apology. You simply ignore him, not wishing to speak to him.

He sighs in annoyance, “For fucks sake why can't you just talk to me? You were speaking a lot to Alys when she was here.” He breaks his formality and that's when you turn to him, “There you are uncle, I was getting bored with the formality you have shown me, pretending as though nothing happened, that your family did not just kill my family.” You say in anger.

“It's over now.” He says and you scoff, “Over?! What do you mean over?! What about the grief that I carry? The loss of my brothers, my mother, my father??! It's destroying me from the inside out!” You shout and Aemond stands still, looking down as if in regret.

“You are not the only one that has experienced grief.” He murmurs and before you can say anything, he lifts his head up and looks at you in the eyes and you immediately stop yourself from speaking.

That's right.

You aren't the only one that has experienced grief, you suddenly remember helaena and jaehaerys. You bite your lip in thought.

“I'm aware that you have experienced more loss than me, more grief than me, some directly caused by me, but that doesn't mean I'm not a victim of it either.” He sighs, “Either way, there is no use of dwelling over the past, we need to put our differences aside and make this work, you saw what happened. War will only make it worse.”

You hated that he was right.

You watch as he comes closer and you don't move away, he wraps his arms around you, embracing you, it feels so comforting, when was the last time you were held like this? You hug him back, burying your face into him, breathing his scent.

“I, I know this will not solve anything that has happened, or bring your brother back to life, but I apologize, I hope we can put our past behind us.” You hear him speak as you zone out in the comfort of his arms, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Ever since then, you and Aemond had grown closer a bit, trying your best to make everything work, he had bedded you during the days that followed, consummating your marriage. But he still laid with Alys.

You did not mind, because though you had gotten closer, you didn't always want to be around him and Alys helped you greatly with that, keeping him away from you.

You were sitting in the library of Harrenhal, reading on the chaise until you heard the door open and watched as Alys entered the room. “Greetings Princess.” She bows slightly and you raise your eyebrow, “You can drop the formalities Alys, you referring to me formally while being informal with my husband will make it seem like I'm that one mean wife who has forced herself between two star crossed lovers.” You close the book you were reading and she chuckles, “As you wish, Y/N.” she refers to you by your name and you smile. “What is that you require from me?” You ask and she shrugs, “I simply wanted to see you, see how you are doing.” She says and you nod, “Hmm.” you hum.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are delectable?” She suddenly says and you look at her, “I've gotten compliments, yes, but not to that extent.” you tell her honestly and she hums. “Well, you are extremely pretty. Almost makes me want to-” She interrupts herself with a cough and you raise an eyebrow, “Make you want to?” You question, and she looks at you, “Have you for myself.” She says directly to your face, catching you off guard. “Oh?” You smirk, “You wish to steal me from the prince? He might see it as an offence.” you tease and she chuckles, “Maybe.” She smirks and suddenly it feels as if the entire power dynamic has changed. You clear your throat in an attempt to deviate from this conversation and try to start another one.

Encounters like that had become more frequent with Alys, she was being flirty indirectly, she had even done it in front of Aemond to which he didn't bat an eye to.

You had tried your best to remain composed, only to find yourself in a situation you didn't quite expect.

Your legs were held spread open by Alys as she laid behind you, your back against her chest, you could feel the softness of her breasts against your back as she kissed your neck.

You gaze falls on Aemond who was currently undressing, he was taking off his breech which revealed his hard cock, to which he gave a few pumps to ease the tension, “Come on Aemond, don't take way too much time.” Alys coos and Aemond obeys, lining his cock to your cunt, sliding it down your fold, gathering the wetness on his cock and later placing his tip against your entrance.

He then slowly pushes inside, causing you to gasp and grip the sheets below, Alys’ hands travel up to your torso and she grabs your breasts, playing with the nipple as she continues placing kisses on your neck.

Aemond fully sheaths himself inside you, grunting when he feels you clench around him, “Fuck, I love this cunt so much.” He groans before drawing his hips back and pushing forward, thrusting. “I know right? Been wanting to taste it for a while, let me at it when you're done.” Alys replies to him, she turns your face sideways and presses her lips against yours, kissing you.

Aemond's tip prods at the sweet spot located inside of you, causing you let out a loud moan into Alys’ mouth to which she chuckles, one of her hands leave your breasts and go to your cunt, she rubs small circles on your clit, elevating the pleasure you're feeling, and before you know it, your orgasm hits you as you come all over his cock, clenching him, causing him to moan and eventually finish inside you. He pulls out slowly, his cock beginning to soften.

Alys is swift in her movements, moving from behind you to facing you from the front, she pushes you further up the bed before lowering herself down to the level where she is face to face with your cunt, she hums in delight as she watches Aemond's spend ooze out from you.

Her tongue collects some of it before she licks a long stripe up to your clit, before engulfing it completely with her moan, which causes you to throw your head back in place. Your hand flies to her head to grip it, your fingers locked in her tresses. You whimper as she pulls on your clit with her mouth, nibbling it. She travels a little down towards your hole and pushes her tongue inside, fucking you with it, her nose rubbing against your clit.

You watch as as Aemond begins to harden again, he positions himself behind Alys, grabbing her by her hips and lifting her lower body up, You feel Alys moan against your cunt as she feels him enter her, her body rocks back and forth as he thrusts into her, she uses your thighs as a leverage to keep her steady, annoyed by the fact that he's using so much force to the point her face keeps leaving your cunt, her tongue swirls around your clit which causes the band in your stomach to snap, you gasp out her name and she moans into your cunt as she reaches her orgasm, teeth clamping down onto your clit but not too harshly yet enough to cause slight sting. Aemond pulls out before he can finish inside her, finishing on her back.

Why did he not finish inside her?

The thought flies over your head as they swiftly change positions again.

Another round? You're already too overstimulated from the previous pleasure.

Aemond lays down and pulls you on top of him, you lay your hands flat against his chest and balance yourself, he lifts your hips up and lines his cock against your entrance again before sinking you down on it, letting out a groan. “Seven hells, I just can't get used to this cunt no matter how many times I take it.” He grunts, “Sit on my face, Alys.” He looks at her and she smiles, immediately obeying, she faces you and you watch as her cunt hovers right above his mouth before she descends to it, his tongue immediately capturing her sex.

You slowly start moving your hips, causing Aemond to groan against her cunt, one of his hands remains firmly on your hip as the other travels to Alys's thigh, gripping it for leverage.

‘This is what heaven probably feels like’ Aemond thinks.

You bounce up and down his cock, Alys leans towards you to capture your lips into a kiss and you let her, your hands roam all over her body before reaching her breasts, you give a slight squeeze to them, making her breath hitch. She kisses downwards your neck, to your breast before taking your nipple in her mouth.

She suckles on your tit while maintaining eye contact with you, and you can already feel the third orgasm of night beginning to build up. She moans with your breast in her mouth causing pleasant vibrations to shoot up your skin, it seems as if she had reached her peak.

She quickly get off of Aemond's face and he sits up, fully focusing his attention onto you now, pressing a kiss to your lips, you can feel the taste of Alys’ essence on his tongue as he shoves in your mouth, deepening the kiss, he ruts into you at a speedy pace and pulls away from the kiss, to watch your tits bounce up and down as he thrusts upwards.

His mouth descends onto one of them, tongue playing with the bud, flicking it up and down, “I can't wait to see these swell with milk when my seed takes, I bet you'd taste so fucking good.” He growls, biting your nipple making you wince.

And it isn't long before you reach your third orgasm of the night, moaning his name loudly as you finish on his cock, and he once again finishes inside your cunt, filling you up with his seed, painting your walls.

You fall slumped onto his shoulder, exhausted from all the intimate acts you have committed with Aemond and his lover, and practically your lover too now.

He pulls you off him and lays you down next to him gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead, you watch as Alys lays on your stomach, and she turns to press a kiss to your lower abdomen, right where your womb was located and whispers some words which you couldn't make sense of.

She then climbs up further and lays beside you, hugging you close to her chest and Aemond pulls you both into an embrace.

“She'll soon give birth to children that will look like the three of us.” Alys says to Aemond and he hums, “How?” You question, furrowing your eyebrows and she chuckles, “Maybe that being a witch rumour wasn't false after all.” She says and you gasp, “Though, I never really bewitched the prince, I never had to.” She chuckles and leans over to kiss Aemond before falling back to place.

You thought Alys was just bluffing and joking at that time, until you gave birth to twins months later.

Who ended up having features of all three of you, your son, having one emerald green eye and one purple eye with your hair colour, and your daughter with platinum blonde hair with your eye colour and facial features of alys.

You wondered how she'd done it.

— !  ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

[destinyisastar]

Lost in your Love pt 2

read here for: pt 1

Summary: It's been seven years since you've been with Vox, what will occur on this hellish day?

Vox x Wife reader (Alastor x reader)

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈ ◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

Hell’s morning red hue shines through your window as you twist yourself beneath the covers on your bed. You reach hand out to your left but are meant with an empty space.

You sit up stretching your arms and look around your bedroom searching for your lover.

There's a piece of paper on your nightstand you grab it, yawning.

“Had an early morning meeting, I’ll see you later this afternoon, buy yourself something nice sweetheart 💕.

-Vox”

Giggling you get yourself ready for the day. You head into the bathroom looking into the mirror “Today’s going to be a good day!”

You decided to pick out a dark blue dress with white short sleeves, Vox asked Velvette to make it specially for you.

“What should I do today?” You walk over to your shelf, “No I have enough books, oh wait….” You walk over to Vox’s closet and pull out his most recent tux.  He recently had an argument with Valentino, which lead the moth to scratch him, therefore ripping his tux.

“I’ll go to the tailor!” You know you can ask Velvette to patch it up but she’s more busy than ever with an upcoming fashion show.

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈ ◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

As you exit the building, you can hear the hellish screams of sinners being tossed about.

Humming to yourself, you spot a camera and walk towards it blowing a kiss to the screen, you know that vox is always watching you, even if he can’t be there physically.  You like feeling protected, knowing that your husband cares for you.

A ding from your phone stops your humming.

“Don’t be out for too long, love you❤️”

You feel all giddy, you’ve never felt more loved.

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈ ◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

Finally, you made your way into the Tailors shop.

“Hello! There’s a couple of rips here and there, do you think you could repair it?” You ask the owl sinner.

The sinner trembles, “Yes, o-of course I can give me a m-moment.” The owl takes the tux and goes toward the backroom.

There are a couple of seats, so you take one and pull out your book from your purse and flip through the pages to find the chapter you left off on. You take note that there seems to be a big commotion going on outside, but you don’t pay any mind.

The bell from the door rings, signaling that a new customer has walked in.

You don’t bother looking up, but you feel the presence ,a static like sound, of someone standing right in front of you.

You don’t move because why would anyone mess with Vox’s Wife?

“Y/n?” The voice sounds like a radio, no…. it can’t be… it can’t be the radio demon?!

You immediately look up.

The presence you felt was indeed The Radio Demon. The demon whose been missing for seven years.

What does he want with you? Is he planning to kill you? Does he want your soul?

You start to breathe rapidly, clutching your hand to your heart, “What do you want with me!?” You reach for your phone in your purse.

“Darling, calm down its just me.” Alastor the Radio Demon tells you calmly. “I’ve been looking for you.” He moves towards you even closer, but you shoot up from your seat making him back away, startled.

“NO! Stay away from me!” You start backing away from the demon, making your way slowly towards the door.

Just before you can turn the knob the Radio Demon grabs your hand.

“Y/n, my love what are you doing? Why are you running away from me?” His radio voice is turned off.

You feel yourself trembling, “Please! P-please don’t hurt me! I won’t tell my husband  that you were here! Let me go!”

Alastor lets go of your hand and you rush out the door.

You can see Vox on the television screens, he seems to be in a rage. The phone in your hand starts to vibrate rapidly.

“Y/n where are you babe?”

“Y/n?”

“Y/n come back home.”

“I’m not playing around.”

“Get home now”

More messages start to pour in from assistants to Velvette and even Valentino.

Whatever the Radio Demon did had stopped all services from your phone.

You run back to V Tower.

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈ ◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

Alastor watched as you ran out of the tailor shop his mind seemingly blank.

His signature smile stretches even further up his face.

‘My Husband’

What did you mean by that?

Alastor was your husband.

No, is your husband.

Why are you afraid of him?

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈ ◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

Give me your thoughts is it good? is it bad? critique my work please! (sorry if it seems short)

destinyisastar 2024

taglist: @songbirdpond @diffidentphantom @ginny-higgins

Word Count: 759

[billskeis]

could you write a story where like bill is away on tour with the band and reader sees his instagram story and texts bill to complain/flirt. And could it be m!reader or gn!reader pls.

(This one)

https://www.instagram.com/stories/billkaulitz/3267364916998050112?igsh=cXl5ODl5dXA5OWlx

ᡣ𐭩 bill's instagram story

with the constant concerts, meet and greets, interviews, and being on the go, tokio hotel has been making their way through fame being the youngsters they are. how incredible!

and despite your appreciation for bill’s passion in music, you miss your boyfriend so much.

tossing and turning in your bed, you stare at the ceiling in your bedroom. boredom completely consuming you as most of your time before was spent with bill.

it was a saturday night and you had no school. with bill being gone, you resorted to any other alternatives to kill some time. unfortunately, all of your friends either had plans or just were simply out of town.

so that’s crossed off the list.

you decided to open your phone and check your social media. one of your favourite shows in the background playing and some snacks left to the side where your bedside table lay.

a highlighted rainbow ring surrounds the profile. the profile picture is familiar.. oh wait, it’s bill! you smile seeing how active your boyfriend was on his social media. what made you even happier was the fact that he had thousands—no MILLIONS of fans but he was dating YOU.

yeah that’s right.. you’re that bitch.

it didn’t occur to you until a few seconds later that bill didn’t respond to your text, but he was actively posting on instagram. how peculiar.. you decided to open the instagram story and immediately dropped your phone on your face.

“fuck—ow! bill, you little shit..”

“what the hell are you doing bill..?” tom barges into the hotel room of his little brother to retrieve god knows what.

bill jumps a bit at the unexpected voice that emits from out of nowhere. almost dropping his phone, bill fumbles around with the phone in the air as he attempts to grasp it once more.

“tom what the fuck!? you scared me,” bill rolls his eyes at his twin brother, “still didn’t answer my question,” he bends down to grab a coke from the mini fridge, popping the lid open to take a swig out of the carbonated beverage.

bill smiled at his phone as he opened the camera app once more, clicking pictures after each second and changing the angle to which he held his phone in, “just a lil’ sumthin.. for y/n of course!”

tom raised an eyebrow, “you might as well show them your dick while you’re at it.. pants hanging so low you’re like a whore,” “uh—rude first of all, and this is coming from the same person who’s rummaging through my bags for a condom?” tom stills his movements with his hands inside bill’s carrier looking for a specific piece of.. rubber…

“potato pitato bitch i live life freely..” “whatever,” as bill scrolls through the images he’s taken, he chooses the perfect one, adds a little caption and posts it to his story, “aaand done! posted!” “huh? posted?” tom questions.

“yep! on my story ;)” “i hope y/n beats your ass,” tom sighs as he begins to leave the hotel room to go god knows where—probably some one night fling he’s found during the concert, “i wouldn’t mind it,” as bill opens his story to look at his own picture and giggles to himself about it.

“now we wait.”

you stare at your phone in disbelief. now you knew bill was an expert in leaving you on edge constantly but this just does it for you.

on bill’s story it’s a picture of him, completely topless and his pants hanging so low to reveal his v-line. his waist is slim, and curves inwards. now he’s not the most fit or as active as in comparison to tom but you still adored his physique.

his nipples are out, you realize you were now drooling and begin to inhale sharply.

on top of that, his tattoos are exposed. even the new one he so declared that he wouldn’t reveal until a few years later but here we are. it’s only been a few months. now the whole world, and not only you, can see it.

you feel your face heat up, jealousy or anger. you can’t believe he’s stirring up a storm with you.

a few more seconds of you analyzing every little detail of his story, because you clearly couldn’t get enough you forgot the most important detail of them all.

the caption.

there was a little text on the screen that bill had typed to accompany the photo. in black bold text, how could you not notice this?

‘concert done, missing you more everyday ;3’

scoffing, your lips begin to curve in an upward smile as you swipe up to respond to bill’s story.

11:49pm

couldn’t have texted me back like a normal person?

11:50pm

hehe, so u saw it!

nuthin abt me is normal :>

11:52pm

ur so lucky ur not in town rn..

11:55pm

or what schatz?

11:56pm

i’d eat u, bill. >:)

11:58pm

oh noooo don’t eat me D:

i’m soo scared

12:01am

wait until u cum back..

b prepared..

12:03am

i really miss u, y/n.

i need u.

12:04am

oh ya? miss me so much? ;)

12:05am

so much baby!!

a few minutes pass, no answer.

12:10am

schatzi? where did u go T_T

*click to open photo from _*

there you lay, in bed. shirt pulled up a few to reveal your soft tummy, from the graphic of it, it appears that you’re currently in one of bill’s shirts that he originally ordered but ended up being too big for his desire so he gave it to you.

no pants, you had no pants on. bill begun to sweat as a particular tightening formed in his pants.

12:12am

y/n!! u little maus!! >:o

12:12am

oopsies :p

bill had to put down his phone to look up at the ceiling. it’s been since before the tour that bill’s got some action.

just imagining you under him, heavily breathing, mouth agape and eyes clenched with tears falling to the side of your face as he uses his thumb to swipe it away.

the uncomfortable feeling in his lower groin becomes one that is unbearable.

“fuck.”

12:26am

bill?? bb?? r u punishin me 4 the picture??

i’m sorryyyy -3- don’t ignore me

*click to open a voice message from billkaulitz*

“oh…”

[frost-queen]

Outmatched //Part 10 (Reader!Holmes x Anthony Bridgerton)

Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, 

@queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr,    @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @october-leaves, @m-rae23,@kazbekkarluvbot, @freyathehuntress,

@kneelforloki, @mamaj-right, @queensgirl718, @abaker74, @thescooby-gang, @readers-posts, @randomstory56, @aureolinb, @fictional-hooman, 

@nyenye,  @loliakeoghan23, @heyheyheyggg, @aizawash0e, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @novas-dreamworld, @preciousbabypeter, @magical-spit, @heyheyheyggg, studioreader, @wonderlandfandomkingdom, @misscaller06, @dracoflaco, @nikithepuff, @child-of-of-the-sunshine

Summary: Schemes come to plan in order to force Anthony and you together. Can a heart to heart change matters? Certainly now your aunt has come into the picture, wanting to have her demands over you. [ Final chapter ] Read part 1  & part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 8 & part 9

Sherlock was writing vigorously. The feather in his hand moving swiftly as he scribbled it around. Dipping as quick as he could in the ink seemingly not wanting to forget a word. It had been annoying you for the past couple of days. It made you sigh loud to get his attention. Nothing occurred as Sherlock was lost in his own mind. Having no ears for his surroundings. You sighed again sitting sloppy in the armchair.

Irritated by the scratching of the feather over paper, you got up. – “Whoever are you corresponding with so eagerly?” – You called out making your way over to him. You came to the front of the desk, lowering yourself on your knees, chin up on the level of the desk. Finally Sherlock noticed you with a brief glance. – “A lady perhaps?” – you responded shockingly.

“Someone you met at the ball? Are you in love Sherlock?” – you questioned with a gleam in your eyes. – “Don’t be absurd.” – Sherlock answered dipping the feather in the ink. – “A sister can dream.” – you told him slightly bummed. Sherlock looked up from his paper. – “So can a brother.” – he simply said. It made you roll your eyes at him.

“Should you not be preparing yourself?” – Sherlock spoke barely looking up as he finished the letter with his name. – “Prepare for what?” – you responded confused. Sherlock placed the feather down, giving you his full attention. – “The park.” – he informed you.

You got up half confused. Slightly narrowing your eyes at him. – “Where are you going with this?” – you wanted to know. Sherlock started folding letter. – “Nowhere.” – he let on, burning some candlewax to seal the note. You watched him closely. Trying to decipher a hint on his face.

Something that would give himself away. Nothing. Your brother was good in hiding his emotions. Frustrated you groaned and took a turn towards the hallway. You went up the stairs to your bedroom to prepare. Moments later you were meeting up with your brother Sherlock outside of the house. 

You took his arm letting him escort you to the park. The weather was quite nice. A soft breeze bristling through the trees. The sun high as it left a warmth on your skin. – “Have you heard anything from Lord Hill?” – you asked when Sherlock nodded at a passing gentleman. – “No.” – he responded placing his hand on yours over his arm. He came to a brief pause. – “Why? Is it something you anticipate?” – he questioned with a raised eyebrow. – “No.” – you answered tugging at his arm to walk again. – “I was simply curious.” – you mumbled turning your head away from him.

To be fair you were a bit curious off his reaction. You did leave him standing alone at the ball. Rejecting him for the entire ton to see. You hoped he didn’t resent you for it. Or perhaps you hoped he might forgive you. Perhaps he was your only chance of getting out of your aunt’s clutches. The thought alone frightened you. Knowing that your aunt would start meddling herself into your life. Marrying you off to anyone suitable enough in her eyes. Take you away from your family for proper etiquettes. Wanting you to be as stiff and stuffy as all the other ladies throwing themselves at any man possible simply because they can’t get any better.

That was not what you wanted. Far from. You wanted to marry for love if it allow itself to you. At this point you didn’t think you were worthy of love anymore. Sherlock must have noticed the self-pity in your eyes as he gave you a nudge with his elbow. Making you look up to his warming smile. It made you smile faintly back, letting your head rest against his shoulder. Sherlock took a deep breath wishing love upon you so hard. If anyone deserved it, it was you.

You lifted your head back up upon arriving at the park. – “Now what are we here for?” – you questioned. Sherlock just smiled. – “A nice walk.” – he responded not pleasing you with his answer. Now it truly felt like he was hiding something from you. – “Sherlock Holmes now I know you are hiding things from me!” – you outed with a stern expression. Sherlock chuckled at your attempt of a motherly scowl. – “I wouldn’t dream of it sister.”

You puffed loud turning your head away. Sherlock led you down the pathway, greeting some people sitting on the benches with a nod. Up ahead you saw a carriage stand in the middle of the road. Sherlock breathed in as his chest rose. He picked up his pace, dragging you along. You tagged along confused as he walked to the side of the carriage. – “Are…are we getting in?” – you asked confused. Sherlock opened the carriage door pushing you inside. At the same time the door on the other side opened as well.

“You are!” – Sherlock spoke as you felt another body bump against yours. Turning your head your eyes widened at the sight of Lord Bridgerton. His eyes equally shocked. You and Anthony each grabbed for the door on your side. Sherlock shut the door firmly almost in your face. – “Sherlock!” – you called out frustrated. – “Mother!” – Anthony shouted at the same time. You turned your head seeing Miss Bridgerton at his side, keeping the door shut just like your brother did.

“Start the carriage!” – Violet called out with a smile. – “Stop the carriage!” – you screamed out wanting to get off. – “Whatever you do, do not stop this carriage till you reach your destination!” – Sherlock made clear to the driver, flipping him a few coins. The driver tipped his hat to Sherlock, signalling the horses to ride off. Anthony and you fell back against the seats as you rode off. With a lot of effort you pulled yourself forwards as the carriage was speeding. Not just a stroll around the park, but almost galloping.

You grabbed for the handle pushing it open as the door swung open. Your body nearly falling over when you stared down at the quick passing gravely road. A pair of hands on your waist. – “Are you insane!?” – Anthony shouted pulling you back inside the carriage. You automatically closed the door once more as your hand was still on the handle. Panting loud you needed a second. – “Did you truly plan on jumping out of a riding carriage just to get away from me?” – Anthony questioned rudely. – “The offer was tempting.” – you responded making him puff loud.

Anthony and you both turned away from each other looking outside of the carriage. It toggled and bumped around as you could barely sit still. – “I cannot believe Sherlock would trick me this much.” – you mumbled under your breath. – “Or mama.” – Anthony breathed out. His head turned slightly to you as you intended the same. Catching each other’s gaze. It locked in tight, unable to look away. In this moment your breathing became heavier. The yearning for him rising up in tide-waves. Each wave more intense than the one before.

Blinking softly it occurred to you what you were doing. How madly in love your eyes must have looked. Anthony reacted the same way pulling away at the same time as you. Both looking away. Taking a deep breath you let yourself slouch back against the seat. – “What is it?” – Anthony asked with care in his voice. No hint of mockery in his tone. You fidgeted with your fingers on your lap. – “The season will come closer to an end than we expect.” – you told him. – “It won’t be long anymore till I have to say goodbye to it all.”

Anthony was slightly confused with shock. He got up coming to sit in front of you. – “What are you referring to?” – he asked. – “Are… are you…” – he spoke barely able to say it out loud. Something inside of him hoping it wouldn’t be the case. – “No.” – you answered with a shake of your head. Anthony exhaled relieved barely seeable to you. – “I am not engaged my lord or will ever be…” – you went on with a saddened expression. Anthony’s expression full of pity as you reminded him of himself in this moment.

You let your eyes fall onto him. – “Perhaps I have taken all the chances at love that I deserve?” – you told him letting your gaze fall briefly onto his lips. Taking a deep breath, you tore your gaze away from them. – “It doesn’t matter truly for I won’t be able to escape my aunt’s restrictions.” – you continued as Anthony gaped at you. – “Soon you won’t have any trouble of me anymore, my lord.” – you finished.

“By the end of the season I’ll leave to join my aunt where she will groom me to find a match to her liking. It is what has been agreed between my father and her long ago.” – you explained. Anthony took a deep breath with concern. The carriage came to a stop. The glance in his eyes making you scrunch your eyebrows.

The footman opened the door startling you. The moment interrupted as you got out. There you saw your brother waiting for you. You glared at him, storming over to him. Anthony got out numbly. Almost missing his step and stumbling over his own feet. – “Anthony?” – Violet said seeing the sadness in his eyes. – “Sister?” – Sherlock spoke. – “Don’t!” – you made clear wiping your cheek aggressively. He turned to look confused at Violet. It sure must’ve worked right? They had planned it so thoroughly. Violet smiled faintly back at him, moving Anthony closer to her.

With her arm over his shoulder, Violet and Anthony parted ways from Sherlock and you. Sherlock turned round jogging up to you as you had walked off.  He didn’t dare to ask how it went upon seeing your distressed reaction. Perhaps it was harder than he expected. To be fair he was very known with the stubbornness of the Holmes’s. The two of you arrived at the estate again. The doorman opening the door to you. – “Do not trick me again!” – was the only thing you said with a loud tone. Sherlock swallowed feeling a bit shameful.

You wanted to storm off to your room when Mycroft appeared from out of the Parlor, clearing his throat nervously. Sherlock stretched his hand out, tapping you gently against the elbow to draw your attention. Mycroft delicately closed the door behind him. – “We… we have a situation.” – he said before you heard the familiar voice of your aunt. Your eyes widened looking frightened at Sherlock. – “Have they arrived?” – you heard her shrill voice come from the Parlor.

The door opened as it bumped against Mycroft’s back making him stumble forwards. Your aunt smiled as wrinkles showed around her eyes and mouth. With open arms she made her way over to you. Sherlock stepping aside to leave room for your aunt to give you an uncomfortable hug. – “Look at you!” – she said unsure to you if it was an insult or not. She tilted your chin up, turning it to the side to have a good look of you. – “I should’ve come sooner.” – she mumbled.

“But!” – she clasped her hands together in delight. – “Tell me Y/n have you found a match yet? Has there been a proposal? Should I expect wedding bells?” – she asked vigorously. – “There has not been.” – you told her honestly. – “Why Y/n the end of the season is nearing. Have you been absent from any balls?” – She turned rudely to your brothers. – “Have there been no gentleman’s offerings? Visits? Interests?” – she wanted to know.

“There…” – Mycroft started. – “There is a gentleman interested… is it not Sherlock?” – Mycroft narrowed his eyes at Sherlock hoping his little scheme of today would be fruitful. Sherlock cleared his throat. – “In the process.” – he answered nervously. He could see Mycroft sigh disappointed and nervous. – “In the process? Sherlock we cannot wait for the process! Y/n must be married off this season to give this family some stability.” – she responded with diplomacy. – “We understand aunt but…” – Mycroft began as he got cut off by her. – “I don’t think you understand well enough!” – she responded bitsy.

“Y/n is running out of time! You shouldn’t have let it come this far. I will not have my niece turn into a hag.” – she finished off. – “Aunt!” – Sherlock called out with a hateful look in his eyes. – “Do not disrespect her!” – he made clear. She simply huffed. She spun back around to you holding her fingers sternly up to you. – “By the end of the season you will come with me and marry the man I offer you!” – she made clear. – “No!” – Mycroft said coming to stand in between. – “Stand aside boy!” – she answered with a hard stare. – “You had your task and failed miserably.” –

Sherlock came joining his brother’s side, blocking you out of her sight. – “You cannot force her to marry out of diplomacy.” – Sherlock outed. – “Oh but I can.” – she answered. You took a deep breath stepping from behind your brothers. They both shook their head knowing you were about to give in. You moved in front of them, curtsying at your aunt. Your aunt smiled proudly. She took you by the wrist. – “Let us have some tea.” – you got pulled back into the Parlor. The second the door shut grabbed your brother Mycroft for Sherlock’s shirt. – “You told me it would work!” – he called out, shaking him around.

“It should’ve!” – Sherlock answered loudly, pushing his hands off. – “I cannot hold her off any longer Sherlock! Our sister is going to be taken away from us in a matter I do not agree upon.” – Mycroft said. Oh how much his character had grown over the months. From a posh man wanting to have you out of his hands to a caring man fighting for his family. – “I will fix it!” – Sherlock replied. – “How? At this rate I don’t see anything happening in the upcoming five years.” – he sighed out letting himself fall exhaustedly against the wall. – “I will figure it out.” – Sherlock said.

The ball was not to your liking. It felt like a goodbye to everything. It felt like the last thing keeping you close to your roots here in London. No intrigued you to join. Standing at the side you watched how everyone socialised. Taking a deep breath you felt out of place. Having no desire or interest in mingling among the people. Perhaps you had already given up. Given up on the last few chances of finding a match. Of finding someone equally to you. Someone you could see yourself love.

Glancing to your right you saw your brothers near.  They too had a saddened expression. The ball to no interest to them. It pained you to see them knowing of the trouble they went through. Knowing you had a hand to play in this. Perhaps you have been too stubborn. Too much against it and not willingly. Perhaps… perhaps…Looking back at the dancers you saw Colin Bridgerton amongst them. Colin… Bridgerton.

Your mind went instantly to Anthony. Feeling your chest warm up at the simple thought of him. Not so long ago you saw a future with him. Despite the bickering and competitive you still admired him underneath. Secretly loved how he would provoke you. Send you off into frustration and to your boiling point. Oh how much you loved to get so worked up over him.

Yet it wasn’t meant to be. Your stubbornness had won in flying colours. In need of fresh air you got in motion. Your brother Sherlock wanted to go after you, but Mycroft held him back. Shaking his head in speech of letting you have your space. You made your way through the crowd towards the gardens. Brushing past people to reach the other side. Walking out, you were greeted by a soft breeze. The night sky bright. You made your way over to some bush roses.

Looking up to the sky, you were in deep thought. Anthony had found a way outside. Having almost entirely searched the estate in search. Looking thoroughly and with a destined purpose. Every inch around he wanted to have seen. He neared to the rose bushes that were overgrown like a small forest around the estate.

He turned around, leaning back with furrowed brows. There between the rose bushes he saw his purpose. With determination and without a second thought he made his way over. Finally he had a clear view. A clear view of you. You glanced to the side, having spotted a sudden appearance in the corner of your vision.

Anthony neared looking breathlessly at you. – “Do you still plan on to leave with your aunt?” – he questioned with a mournful expression. – “It is what is intended… for me.” – you responded. – “I am apparently made to save my family from ruin.” – you told him. – “You love your family dearly.” – he spoke coming more over to you. You were looking down fumbling a bit with your dress. – “As much as you love yours.” – you told him without a glance. With a deep breath you finally dared yourself to look up.

Struck instantly by his overwhelming gaze. The brightness in his eyes that could light a fire. – “I was fearful of losing you.” – he confessed with a hard swallow. Admitting his feelings so openly to you felt vulnerable. – “That is why I became… after your accident… I couldn’t…” – he slightly shook his head vowing his words to you. You took a deep breath when Anthony neared more. – “I love you.” – he outed.

“I have loved you from the moment you insulted me.” – taking one more step closer to you. – “I have loved you at every dance, on every walk. Every time we have been together and every time we have been apart. You do not have to accept it or even embrace it but you must know it, in your heart.” – Anthony expressed deeply. He took your hand making you look down at the gesture.

“You must feel it, because I do.” – he pressed his hand onto his chest, staring deeply at you. – “I love you.” – he repeated with all his heart. You scrunched your eyebrow softly at him. – “I don’t not know what to say.” – you told him. – “You don’t have to say anything.” – he answered letting his thumb brush against your hand he was still holding. – “I do not think there is anything else to say… other than I love you too.” – you answered heartily. Anthony exhaled stunned. – “You…” – he breathed out. You lowered your head smiling foolishly at yourself. He looked down taking your other hand in his too.

“I know I am imperfect but I will humble myself before you, because I cannot imagine my life without you and that is why I wish to marry you.” – he spoke with a smile. You returned his smile with one of your own. – “You do know there will not be a day that you shall not vex me.” – you told him teasingly. Anthony let go of your hand allowing his hand to go around your waist to your lower back. – “Is that a promise Y/n Holmes?” – he responded smug. You moved your head closer to his, drawn to him. – “It is a promise.” – you breathed out wanting his lips on yours.

Anthony inhaled deep near your lips, anticipating the moment your lips would touch. – “You are not going anywhere Y/n.” – he whispered to you teasing your lips with the presence of his. You vigorously shook your head moving your hands around his neck. – “I shall not.” – you replied before you forced your lips onto his. An explosion of feelings bursting inside of you. Lips kissing each other with the upmost passion and longing.

Your body being pressed against his, wanting you as deeply as he could. No more you needed to feel saddened. No more you needed to leave. No more you were unloved having finally found your match.

----------------------------------------------

Read more of my fic’s on my Masterlists!

[berriweb]

╰┈➤ ❝ 3:19 AM ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. earth-42 miles morales x fem! reader

: ̗̀➛ warnings. both y/n and miles smoke weed, short mentions of some injuries

: ̗̀➛ a/n. feel free to laugh and correct me on any fucked up spanish because i highly doubt google translate will be accurate and 4 years of high school spanish can only get one so far /3 the 42! miles brain rot I’m suffering from is LETHAL

Every few minutes a gust of wind would send shivers down your spine and poke chill bumps into your skin as air blew through the cracked bedroom window. You did your best to block out the chaotic sounds of sirens and the occasional arguments and fights breaking out in the streets below the apartment complex by turning up the speaker playing soothing music ever so slightly to combat them. Striding across the room, the smell of lavender, citrus, and maybe just a hint of cherry blossoms filled your nostrils and the room as you carefully lit incense and candles scattered across the desk in the corner of the room, before using the same lighter to re-ignite the joint hanging from between your pointer and middle finger.

Bringing it up to your lips, you took a long drag before releasing it and making an attempt to blow towards the crack and avoid stinking up the room with the stench of weed and burning paper, hence the candles and cracked window.

When you flopped back onto the made bed after setting your joint in the ash tray, your gaze turned from the dimly lit ceiling to the glowing red alarm clock sitting on the nightstand next to you, 3:19 AM.

Reaching for your phone charging next to it, you squinted at the screen before using Face ID to unlock it, your previous messages with Miles already being displayed seeing as you couldn’t stop checking to see if there were any updates.

5:15 PM

M&M <3: Something came up, got some business with Uncle Aaron. I’m going to be late.

You: we still on for movie night ? :(

M&M <3: Of course, wait for me til then? Give me til 11.

You: i’ll keep your spot warm :) stay safe, i love you &lt;3

M&M &lt;;3: Te amo, Ma.

5:19 PM

You: oh!!! tell aaron i said hey 2, haven’t been around to visit n a while😞

12:01 AM

You: everything good?

12:45 AM

You: a little worried, txt me back when you can :(

2:00 AM

You: ?

Despite trying your best to ignore the nightly chaos ensuing outside, it was becoming increasingly hard to do so when your boyfriend of many years had recently admitted to being the Prowler and spending most of the nights he wasn’t with you out in the city carrying out orders on behalf of Kingpin, especially when he’d texted you earlier that day planning to be back by 11 at latest for a movie night, only to follow up a few hours later saying that something had come up.

He’d assured you when he first broke the news that he’d always come back home to you, but that never stopped you from worrying every once in a while that something awful would occur that was out of his control. Especially when he wasn’t replying to any of your attempts to check up on him.

What if he’d been captured? What if it was a mission Aaron sent him on and he somehow screwed it up? What if someone had screwed him over? A rouge villain? An assassination gone wrong? A stray bullet he couldn’t dodge fast enough? What if-

Creak.

Your unintentional spiraling into horrific ‘what if’ scenarios was interrupted by the sound of rusted metal grinding against another, your head tilting up in less than a second to see a clawed hand further pushing up your window frame.

‘Speak of the devil.’

The relieved expression on your face couldn’t be hidden as you nearly jumped up from your spot on the bed to his side as he crawled through your window, with an admittedly suspicious gait when he stepped back from the window.

“You’re back! What took so long?” You chirped as you stood. Normally you would’ve avoided bombarding him with questions as soon as he’d come back, seeing as he’d likely already been dealing with enough before arriving, but he’d never come home this late before.

The plates on his mask pulled back to show his gorgeous, as usual, yet tired face behind it, exhaustion pulling at the ends of his lips. “Lo siento mami, tomó más tiempo de lo que pensaba, I got caught up with some bad people,” he hummed while carefully removing his clawed hands and leaving them resting in your desk, the rest of his geared suit coming off after until he was left in just his shirt and some nice sweatpants. Without all of the extra gear, you had a better chance to size him up before he pulled you into his embrace.

You suspected he kept it brief to avoid/distract you from worrying about him, which was hard to do when you noticed the slight discoloration on his ankle when part of his pant leg moved and his attempt to not put as much pressure on that foot when he walked, paired with the way his nose scrunched when he moved and his right side of his torso flexed.

Part of you admired his dedication to protecting you from knowing too much about what he did as the Prowler and trying to be a role model for you. The other part of you thought he was a fool for not letting you in and allowing you to help, which you often voiced your opinion on.

“They had you at it for hours? Are you alright?” You buried your face into his chest to get a whiff of his cologne and what you were sure was a hint of blood and outside. He mirrored your actions by resting his head on top of yours, making you appreciate past you for choosing to oil your scalp earlier that night.

“I’m alright, but why are you still up? I’ve told you about-” “I’m awake-” you cut your boyfriend off before he could start to lecture you, which you didn’t want to hear no matter how much you loved his accent, “because my boyfriend promised to be home for movie night but instead left me worrying for his safety all night then has the nerve to lie to me when he finally makes it back hours later.”

A look you’d learned was his attempt at hiding his guilty conscience crossed his face before he rose a brow at your accusation of lying. “Wait, wha-” this time he cut himself off when your arm slithered back from around his waist and you used to fingers to dig into his side, causing Miles to jerk back and wince, holding his side.

"¡Hijo de puta! What’s your deal Y/N?! Eso duele como el infierno! Jesus-”

You tried (and failed) to hold back from giggling at his irritated gaze before grabbing him by both hands and leading him to your bed, practically forcing him to sit down at the edge, not that he tried to fight back.

“Consider it karma, Miles. If you’re gonna go out and do dangerous shit at least don’t lie to my face about it,” you tsked, kneeling down as you ignored the pointed glare and mean mug he sent your way as his nose scrunched and he muttered something under his breath about you being cruel. Lifting the side of his shirt up, you eyed the damage his assumed rivals must have caused before he came, black and purple bruises littering his side in different colors and shades. You sucked your teeth, looking up at him with narrowed eyes which he only responded with by looking off to the side and biting the inside of his cheek.

Moving down, you pulled his pant leg up to see matching colors on his ankle, and given his previous limp you’d have to take a guess as to what happened. He hardly ever let you treat him in any capacity, which was mostly due to him feeling the need to always be treating you, but judging from the look in your eyes Miles knew he didn’t really have a choice this go round.

“It looks sprained, and those bruises are gonna take forever to heal. Do you need an ice pack?” “Please.” You we’re already rising to your seat, not waiting for a response before you quickly and quietly left your room to go retrieve one from the kitchen without waiting your parent(s).

When you returned, you were carrying an ice pack, along with some bandages to keep it in place and a small snack just in case he hadn’t eaten in a while, and knowing how he gets when he prioritizes being the Prowler over everything else, he likely hasn’t. He’d taken the liberty of finishing off the rest of your joint, evident by the evidence still being in his hand and the smoke blown into your mouth when you leaned in for a quick deep kiss before kneeling once again to work on his ankle the best you could. You were by no means a professional, but your attempt was better than leaving it alone and your guilty conscience wouldn’t let you even if you wanted to.

As you worked in silence the initial tension in the air seemed to ease up, partially due to the weed, but you couldn’t help but still be slightly bothered by how worried you’d been for him. Yeah, he made it back relatively okay this time despite his lateness, but what about next time, and the time after that?

“Y/N.”

Miles’ voice pulled you out of your thoughts, mainly due to the fact that he hardly ever called you by your first name, and you realized that you’d been quietly staring at the floor for a while after finishing up treating his injuries. You could feel him reach down to grab both your hands and pull you up to his feet until you were standing between both of his legs looking down at him.

“You worry too much,” he started, but that didn’t help at all to ease your mind. “You don’t worry enough! Miles, you were supposed to be here hours ago. How can you expect me to just sit around and go about my normal routine knowing that you’re out their risking your life nearly every night? I can’t do that for you and you know that!”

Miles felt guilt creeping up his throat, this felt like a long overdue conversation. “I don’t expect that of you, but what do you want me to do mami? I can’t just drop out and you know that. All of this- I do it for you, for us, you know I can’t just back out now, it’s my only sense of normalcy ever since-” he didn’t finish his sentence, but you didn’t need him to. You couldn’t bear to look him in eyes, your heartstrings tugging painfully at the reminder of how he ended him the way he was now.

You’d been there for him through the worst of it, when his father died, when the city went to shit. It was awful for a very long time, your only glimpse of hope being when Miles seemingly started regaining a sense of who he was long after the fact. You’d been happy for him, encouraging him to go out more and constantly reminding him that you were there for him. Unbeknownst to you, the “healthy” outlet he’d been using to cope with the fact was sneaking out with his Uncle to commit crimes on behalf of some of the worst known criminals. You’d be lying if you said you approved, that you were okay with what he did and that you thought Miles was too, but you’d learned to accept it on account of the fact that there really wasn’t any other option. You knew you couldn’t even entertain the thought of not always being by his side, you needed him just as much as he needed you.

You couldn’t argue with his point and couldn’t hold eye contact, trying to look off to the side to avoid his hardened gaze but he was quick to gently take hold of your chin and turn your head back to him, making a warm feeling crawl up your neck.

“Siento haberte preocupado, mi amor. Do you remember the promise I made you when I first told you?” He asked.

It was a random callback, but you remember it as clear as day, the night you’d shown up at Miles’ house to surprise him with a gift you found at the mall which reminded you of him, sitting in his room awaiting his return only for him to crawl in through the window clad in Prowler gear mid-unmasking. You swore you could still occasionally hear the sound of your jaw hitting the floor.

“You promised that you’d never keep another secret from me,” you recalled with a small sigh, feeling your shoulders drop.

“And?”

“And…that no matter what you’d always come back home to me.”

“Dije que nunca te dejaré esperando a alguien que nunca volverá a casa,” Miles’ hands caressed your sides before falling still at your hips. “I promised to always, no matter what, come back, no?”

Your hands fell down to his shoulders, tilting your head until your foreheads were touching and you could feel his breathe hitting your collarbone.

“I’m sorry baby, I just…”

“No need to apologize, mami, I don’t blame you.”

His words ease your concern, but you know that the issue is too big for one conversation to solve. At the same time, however, it’s also out of concern.

Deciding that you’ve stressed yourself out more than enough for one night, you move away from him to flop back onto your bed before tugging on his arm to bring him down with you. Miles wraps his arms around your waist to bring you closer and you throw a leg over both of his while being careful to not hurt any of his already injured parts, burying your face into the crook of his neck while your free hand reaches to run your nails across the part for his braids.

“They got you good, huh? Messed up your pretty braids n’ everything, they were so neat,” you mumbled, making Miles chuckle.

“You can always do ‘em again for me, huh mami? You always do them the best.”

“And you missed out of movie night, I had the best trilogy picked out…” he could practically feel your pout on his neck.

“How ‘bout I make it all up to you tomorrow? No school, I’ll take you shopping and we’ll go eat someplace nice. Then we can watch all the movies you want, I can even find a decent theater for us, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’d like that…” judging by the slur, he knew you were practically out for the night, which was confirmed by the yawn that followed your words. He let a small smile tug at his lips as he kissed your forehead before pulling the blankets up to covered the two of you.

“Buenas noches, mami.”

“G’night baby.”

[roseofhybrids]

A thought occurs

do you think they like, moved Yeva and Doll Papa's bodies after the prom fiasco?

We know Uzi was able to sneak back in there later to obtain some l i m b s before going to camp. Meaning that the all the bodies were still there long enough for her to switch back to her normal clothes. (Which, to be fair, could have feasibly been on the same night as the prom.)

But, even before the prom, her parents bodies were in there awhile.

Sure, the WDF didn't know Doll was behind the disappearances. But surely they knew her parents were killed when the murder drones broke in. Even if Doll didn't like, officially report it when it happened. Surely they'd notice that Yeva and DP stopped showing up to work and didn't attend the parent teacher conference with the school. Yet, Doll still had the bodies in her apartment. Did she ask to keep them and they just let her? Did they move them and Doll stole them back? Do the drones just leave it up to next of kin to deal with the corpse disposal???

Cuz they also left J's corpse sitting out. Was that because she was a murder drone? Were they planning to move her after the hole in the ceiling got fixed? Do they just leave the bodies sitting out if they're out of the way enough?

Is the world ending, and those two are still just chilling at the dinner table?

[crash-and-cure]

Burnin’ a Hole Where I Lay (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader) (Omegaverse)

Gif by @troubleinapinksuit

Summary: In which you long ago decided that the standard Alpha and Omega Relationship wasn’t for you, but your best friend Elvis had other plans.

A/N: This is a backup post I made because I absolutely refuse to let this be a case of this one not ending up in the tags again. Based on this request. Semi-Relevant, as i’ve been writing, in my head I’ve been ranking each reader as to how likely they are to bite, and undoubtedly this is my most feral creation, too bad she exists in a world where it may as well be a whole ass love language. So as a quick note as to the dynamics of this Omegaverse, relationshipss are primarily judged on their ability to Breed so A/O are the preferred/seen as the standard, wtih B/O and B/B being seen as acceptable, as a result an A/B relationship is seen as unacceptable. Also Alpha Presentation is marked when they gain their unusually elongated canines, and later go into a rut, Omegas go into their first heat, and Betas essentially present by not presenting whatsoever. Knotting is a bit of a secret in this world, as it only occurs under pretty rare circumstances. Probably some other rules I’m spacing on right now, so feel free to ask if any questions arise. Also I fully acknowledge that there is no way they would be watching The Twilight Zone, but for the purposes of this story let’s pretend.

Warnings: First and foremost this is a Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of delusional and manipulative behavior. VERY dubious consent, (in which reader is a slave to their own desires of consciously not wanting, but their body uncosciously does want it). Set in an Omegaverse so expect the usual. Implied birth control tampering. Bit of a breeding kink implied. Sexual harassment masked as being especially touchy. Smut depicted, that includes penetrative sex (m/f), knotting, cockwarming, cumplay, marking, and a bit of blood play. Also depictions of Parental abandonment and neglect towards reader. Reader is not in a good place y’all and as a result has humor as an unhealthy coping mechanisms and self-depreciative attitude. Instances of reader being yelled at both by Elvis and another character. Best friends to lovers (albeit reluctantly) Please do not interact if you are under 18 years old.

Word Count: 21k (I need to be stopped)

My Masterlist

Denim jeans were a mistake, you think to yourself trying your best not to fan yourself in a very indecent place as you and your group walked back to the rest of the motorcade sitting idle on some backwoods route somewhere in the Florida panhandle. It was a nice cool 102 degrees this morning when the lot of you had taken off so by noon it was hotter than hades, which had been the perfect time for Hank Snow’s car to all but combust, forcing the entire convoy to a screeching halt. The Louisiana Hayride apparently operated the same as the Military: No man left behind.

You and your naturally-run-hot-thighs were having a wonderful time, walking down this stretch of road, along with the other non-talent people who were roped into making a snack and refreshments run at the nearest service station about a half-mile back. You dab yourself, praying you haven’t sweat the last of your face off, as that is the last thing you need right now. The last leg of the hayride tour was proving to be the most arduous as now home felt so close yet still so far off. And this hiccup further proved your theory that hell is to be found on tour.

Though upon seeing them not too far away from you now, your group does admittedly make this far more bearable. You’re not about to let them know that though. So before your thoughts get too chummy about them you set the brown bag from the service station down onto the grass and grab a hold of one of the bottles before you silently stalk forward. Some of them see you and are all too willing to comply when you hold a finger up to your lips in order to better sneak up on your mark. Your prey none the wiser to your dastardly scheme, gleefully tells the tale of seeing Big Boy Crudup as a boy, before it’s interrupted by a yelp and then a subsequent long string of curses as he’s taken by surprise by the cool kiss of the bottle to the back of his neck.

He whips around ready to unleash his fury on the poor soul who dared interrupt him, until you watch in real time as the fire in his eyes dissipate and turn softer upon seeing you giggling up a storm. “Goddamn Y/N, what was that for?” Elvis says exasperated, but doing a piss poor job of hiding his amusement as he wipes the now cool sweat off the back of his neck.

“Felt like it,” you shrug, handing him the bottle before you turn around to retrieve your bag where you had left it, and return bearing gifts.

“Say lil’ lady, you got anythin’ in that bag for some talented musicians?” Scotty asks.

Quick as a whip, you reply, “Sure do. Ya know any?” as you set the bag down on the hood of the car.

Elvis gives a full belly laugh at you, and a beat later, do the others follow suit.

“Did they only have orange soda?” Red remarks as he’s digging through the brown bag.

“No, but one of you mooks, and you know who you are,” you say, pointing to the lot of them. “Have not eaten a single goddamn fruit or vegetable since Texas, and this was the only way I figured I could get y’all to not die from scurvy.”

“Don’t be stupid Y/N,” Billy asserted, nervously trying to hide that he was the one you were talking about. “You only get that when you're out on the sea.”

“I thought you get it when you eat too much salt,” Scotty questions, unsure as to your words.

“No you get it from bad fish,” Red asserts, all the confidence of a man who has never been out to sea.

“You’re all wrong,” you say as you look through your bag trying to find a bottle opener. “You get it when you don’t listen to the Pharmacist’s daughter and eat a goddamn orange every once in a while. Now drink.”

You can see it clear as day as, simultaneously, all of their hackles raise at the thought of being ordered around by a Beta, so they do what they usually do when you do this: they look to Elvis.

Elvis, who has been able to open his own drink with his keys, stops drinking for a moment only to state, “You heard her.” And without a second thought they all sigh in defeat as they each grab a bottle for themselves.

“That’s what I thought,” you state, triumphantly, as you fail to locate anything close to a bottle opener. “You mind,” you say to Elvis, holding your bottle up to him. He gives a little smirk as he brings the still capped bottle up to his mouth.

As he uses his teeth as a makeshift bottle opener, you catch a glimpse at his pronounced canines, and you can’t help but absentmindedly swipe your tongue on that errant tooth in your own mouth. The one that tricked you into believing that you would present as an Alpha only to disappoint nearly everyone in your life.

You’d like to believe you’re past your admittedly childish envy of his status as an Alpha, still that does little to quell that funny feeling you get in the pit of your belly when you see him pop the cap off the bottle with ease.

“I meant use the keys dummy,” you say exasperatedly, swiping the orange drink out of his grasp. “You’re gonna crack a tooth like that one a these days.”

“Aww you do care,” he half-sings to you, and you can only roll your eyes and tell him to shush. He nonetheless listens and uses the keys for his second bottle.

While you languidly sip on the orange drink, that word circles your brain for a bit. Caring is not something you’re exactly used to being called. Years ago you were called protective or watchful, when the entire world was sure as to how you would present. Nowadays in spite of the fact that you doubt you’ve changed too much over the years, you’re called nurturing or motherly.

It’s actually part of the reason you even went on tour with them. You had initially refused Elvis’ invitation to join him on tour, figuring that now was as good as any to move out of the Lauderdale courts. He begged you to go with him and be his makeup assistant on tour as you had been for every show he’d performed up until then. You were reluctant to go due to not wanting to leave the good thing you had going with your job at the Cathouse salon but then Gladys had convinced you to go in order to prevent the boys from getting too buckwild on the road. After all her years of hospitality and refusing your rent payment, you figured this was the least you could do to compensate for your extended stay in her home.

The irony of which was not lost on you as there were many nights after the two of you had your nightly phone calls with her where you would have to kick Elvis out of your motel room to go “talk” to some little chicky that would be skulking around his room (More like you slapped him on the ass and told him ‘go get em tiger’... because you absolutely did do that a few times). You did this mostly to get him out of your hair for the night, but also because in those days you had no idea how long any of this would last and you wanted him to make the most of it. You knew better than most that all things are temporary, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the ride.

Your musings are interrupted by The Colonel’s speaker car announcing the issue had been fixed and everybody better be ready to leave in less than a minute because “Time is money.” Your group quickly packs up, making a beeline back into your respective vehicles.

You quickly check your makeup in the mirror (wouldn’t do for THE Elvis Presley’s makeup girl to look anything less than immaculate, even in this abominable heat, though he’s not exactly a THE yet) as Elvis gets behind the wheel making sure Scotty and Billy got into their car, while Red scurries into the backseat (he lost all privileges to shotgun after a legendary loss to you at a bowling alley back in Baton Rouge). And just like that you’re off to hightail it to the next venue, though not before you catch a particularly nasty side-eye from Hank as he passes your car. With all his huffing and puffing every time Elvis performed, you figured it would only be inevitable the Alpha would eventually burst and blow the lot of you all the way back to Memphis. Especially as his Beta boy kept glancing your way.

So imagine your surprise when by the end of the night Hank ended up leaving and Elvis had news that that Colonel fellow wanted to go into a partnership with him. You’re gone for all of five minutes to get funnel cake and suddenly Elvis is officially on the up and up, with a new manager and everything.

Elvis trusted everybody and you trusted nobody: it made you two the perfect team. It was your natural suspicion of others that had you look over The Colonel’s initial contract and when some of the wording wasn’t sitting right with you, you called in a favor with your former boss, Kitty, who was in turn owed a favor by a Lawyer friend of hers. Even with the favor in place, he ended up taking a good chunk of your savings, which in your book was fine, as it was mostly made up of the rent that the Presley’s refused to accept from you for the past few years. Your intervention would actually prevent Elvis from going 50/50 with The Colonel, and unknowingly save him from so many headaches later down the line.

The Beta Man didn’t quite make your skin crawl, but just about, and he made it no secret how little he cared for you or how much Elvis valued your opinion. Were it not for Elvis’ insistence that you’re the only make-up artist in the world that could achieve the right look for him, you think The Colonel would have elbowed you out early into his career.  

And much to his chagrin you go everywhere with him; shows, movie sets, tv appearances, you name it. Those weeks when you had back to back shows with him and just as many public appearances to keep the momentum of his career going, those were the days where you found yourself longing for the far simpler days.

You honest to god miss 8th grade year. When the world made about as much sense as it could to a twelve year old. The days when you were called the Boldest Little Girl this side of Memphis you were called after you brazenly told your music teacher to shut up when she told the stuttering new kid that he had no future in music in front of the entire class.

After a long lecture on respect and Mrs. Whatsherface made sure your knuckles had a meeting with her ruler, you left her classroom only to be met with that same kid you defended turned around and talking to himself in an empty hallway. He still somehow managed to stutter even when no one was there.

"Th-th-thank y-you," he would say before taking a long steadying breath, before squaring his narrow shoulders and looking as though he were preparing for war.

"Who ya talkin' to?" you would say over his shoulder, and instead of words he would let out a very undignified shriek. "Sorry 'bout that. I'm Y/N."

"El-Elvis," he would say, looking down at his shoes. He’s all sandy hair and knobby knees, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen a boy with such long eyelashes before. He was just a bit shorter than you, and with the growth spurt you had recently your mama was hopeful that you would present soon.

"So Elvis… you new to Memphis?" you would say, after a painfully long pause, waiting for him to say something else.

"Ye-ye-yes," he said, still trying to find the secrets to the universe in his shoes. You can’t exactly pinpoint why but in that moment, he reminded you of a wet puppy. One that's just pathetic enough that you want to pick it up and take it home to dry it off and give it a snack.

So that's exactly what you do and you throw an arm around his shoulder, “C’mon, Elvis,” you say as the sandy-haired boy blushes up a storm. “I’m gonna show you around these parts.”

You end up taking him to some of your favorite places around your neck of the woods, and finish this little impromptu trip with a stop off at the neighborhood drugstore, where you ask him what his favorite soda is, and he nearly has a heart attack when you grab one from the cooler and walk out without even attempting to pay for it. Annoyed but willing to humor the boy, you walk up to the counter and tell your daddy you were taking them for you and your friend. You could see the bit of pride in his eyes as you took rather than asking for what you wanted. Elvis meanwhile seemed to be in awe of you. Though he quickly goes beet red when you show him how to open a bottle with your teeth and hand it to him.

“Y’know you don’t stutter when you sing,” you say as the two of you were making your way to his place in the lauderdale courts. “Why’s that?”

“I-I-I don’t know,” he said solemnly, sipping on the Pepsi you gave him. “I gu-guess, it’s cuz I-I-I’m good at it… or I th-thought I wa-was.” he says sadly.

“You do sound good,” you say matter-of-factly, and it makes you feel warm as he lights up at the compliment. “Not everyone’s gonna think so, but you do.”

“But some of ‘em are gonna hate it?” he blanches at the thought.

“Yeah, but that’s just  the way a things ain’t it?”

“I-I guess…”

“Elvis trust me on this,” you state, more sure of yourself than any twelve year old has a right to be. “If people don’t like how you sound, it’s on them to not listen, because there are plenty more people who will love it.” Simple piece of advice really, and not applicable to all situations you recognize now, but with the way you watched him hunching in on himself to look smaller only for him to walk straighter into his home, it looked like it’s what he needed to hear.

Elvis would return to music class the next day with his own guitar in hand and sing his little heart out in front of the entire class. Mrs. Whatsherface still didn’t approve, stating how she “didn’t like how he sounded.” But he in turn looked her right in the eye and told her what you had told him, and you had never been more proud of another person in your entire life.

“Well Mrs. Wilson, you don’t gotta listen.” he asserts, more confidence in him than you’ve seen in all the time you’ve known him.

Your friendship however was really solidified after that jerk that sat behind you in class, Leon, cut Elvis guitar strings as a “joke” he claimed. Seeing Elvis' heartbroken expression and knowing his family’s financial status, awoke some latent protective streak within you that had you dip into your meager savings for a record player to buy two things that night: guitar strings and gum.

The next day you would give Elvis the replacement strings before school would start as well as an ominous suggestion to watch you during study hall. And he would watch as you proceeded to stick a wad of gum in your own hair and proceed to flip over the table behind you and try to knock Leon’s lights out. Nobody ever really made that connection that it had anything to do with what he did to Elvis’ guitar. No, all anybody ever knew was just that Leon sat behind you and someone had put gum in your hair, and you swung first and asked questions later.

Elvis would watch in utter awe of you as the teacher escorted you and Leon out of the class by your ears, and you would wink at him as you passed by, but you think the sentiment of it was lost considering the eye you used was the one already swelling shut. Unbeknownst to you at the time, Elvis would return home that night and let his Mama know he found the girl he was gonna marry.

You saved Elvis the embarrassment of having to be defended by a girl, and the focus was solely on how Leon had gotten beaten up by one. You would even cleverly and cruelly dub him “The Cowardly Leon,” for the rest of the year, and only let it die out after you needed to start flying under the radar once you had presented.

You cared a lot about justice back then because that’s what your father instilled in you. In fact the first thing he said to you when he came to pick you up, was asking whether or not you won. God he was so proud of you for standing up for yourself, and he ended up taking you out for ice cream. In retrospect not the best thing to teach a kid, to handle conflict with physical violence. Back then it was seen as blooming Alpha behavior of play-acting at being territorial and rough-housing. But once you presented as a “Beta” that same behavior that was seen as charming, became deviant or atypical of how a proper beta should act.

That year was the last one of simplicity you would ever experience, as you were comfortable in what your future would look like. Your daddy's side of the family came from a long, unbroken line of Alphas, both male and female. And it only felt inevitable that you would present as one, and one day you would inherit your family drug store, you would settle down with a nice omega partner, have a couple kids, who would also be Alphas, pass it on to them, so on and so forth.  With his ever present, yet endearing stutter and his unabashed love for his mama, you had thought Elvis would be such a partner. And the way you sometimes caught him looking at you at times, you didn't think he would be entirely opposed to it either.

You were an only child and your daddy did his best to teach you long before you were even close to presenting how an Alpha acts. Lessons to always be bold and aggressive. To take what you want and how to fight for what is yours. The benefits of remaining stoic, and relying only on yourself. How to essentially be the perfect Alpha.

Lessons that would ultimately be wasted on you, you would learn that summer after 8th grade. It was just supposed to be a nice ordinary trip to visit Nana up in Nashville. First day, you would be slightly uncomfortable and very tired, nothing cool refreshments and a nap couldn’t help. Day two you felt a lot warmer that wasn’t the least bit helped by Nana’s brand new Air Conditioner. Day three you would spend covering the windows with blankets in order to better curl up into a corner on your bed with pieces of clothing you had taken from your parents. Day four there was no more denying what was happening as you cried into mama’s lap, feeling oddly betrayed by your own body as you waited for all of it to pass.

Your daddy put you on suppressants the second you were all finished and were back in Memphis. He was the only one whose disappointment in your presentation matched your own. Mama tried her best to convince you it wasn’t so bad to be an Omega, but the words feel hollow as you overhear her insistence to daddy that she wasn’t too old to try and get it “right” this time with another baby.

Nothing felt real those summer days, and by the time newly presented Alpha, Elvis Presley, strolled into the store, you officially accepted that you were in some sort of upside down world. You didn’t even really see him at first, you were so used to seeing him at less than eye-level to you, that it didn’t register to you to look up, and find the previously waifish Elvis Presely having been replaced by a taller, broader -and dare you say it, handsome- young man before you.

Of all the people you knew, you thought Elvis would be the one that you would be able to tell, but as the light softly glints off his newly descended canines you knew that could never be.

There’s a part of you that wants to tell him. To admit to someone, who will undoubtedly accept you as you are, but you catch sight of your parents staying on opposite sides of the store. A painful reminder that nothing is ever a sure thing.  

“My what big teeth you have,” you instead remark as you lean against the counter.

“Heya sweetheart,” he says, propping an elbow on to the counter, though not without some awkwardness as he catches your magazine and slides forward a little before catching himself.

“Sweetheart? What is that about?” You ask, acting dumb and hoping you’re wrong.

He grins even wider at that

“Oh yeah,” you say, trying to be as non-chalant as you possibly could be. You hook your pinky into the corner of your mouth to show him the normal canine you have. He perks up ever so slightly as he sees it, only to deflate once he hears your muffled “Beta.”

“O-oh… oh, ummm…” he stutters, unsure of what to say to you.

“Disappointed? So’s my daddy,” you say flippantly.

“N-no it ain’t that,” he stutters. “It’s just I-I… well I…”

“Was expecting something else?” you finish for him. “You and me both buddy,”

“...Y-yeah umm….” he says glancing down between you and the floor as though waiting for the sike.

“C’mon, don’t be upset for my sake, you’re an Alpha now, cream of the crop and all that,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too jealous. You hand him a Pepsi on the house and call for the next customer knowing you’re gonna have to be on inventory later so you’re daddy won’t notice it missing.

In short order by the start of your freshman year you would learn three awful things. First, that while the state of Tennessee’s single bond and marriage laws were still in place, they do make an exception for Alpha business owners who wish to pass down their legacy to an Alpha Child. Secondly, that your daddy was aware of this exception because he had done it once before, as you and your mama were his second attempt at an alpha child, after his first born son presented as an omega. Third, the reason you had a babysitter until you were fourteen, was because your daddy apparently needed a backup for his backup.

That is how you found yourself moving all of your belongings into the Lauderdale Courts, where you would find a familiar face. He was surprised to see you there, especially with the load of boxes behind you, but he wasn’t about to let your surly demeanor get in the way of him rolling out the welcome wagon for you and your Mama.

Elvis is not one to be ignored, and you find it amusing that he was now the one that more or less bullied you into doing things. And as loath as you are to admit it he more or less did become somewhat of a protector to you when Leon tried to get his licks back. It is a strange reversal, but not a wholly unwelcome one. You do at least try to find the comedy that is the tragedy of your life now.

Your mama was with you, but you could hardly say she was present anymore. The days she wasn’t drinking herself into a stupor, were the days she was cursing your father’s name and long-winded rants about how he stole the best years of her life. For all the passion and fury in her words, they were hollow, as instead of getting on suppressants to combat her heats, she instead went back to him every single time to take care of her. There would be times you would come home from school only to find your place empty, cash in an envelope on the table, nary a note in sight, and you would spend the week with a neighbor.

You try to justify it in your head with the fact that Mated Omegas could die if they go into heat without their Alpha, but that was exactly what suppressants were made for. They weren’t true mates so there should be no problem for her alone to break the bond, and yet like clockwork every three months she would be gone for the entire week, and wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes for about the next two weeks following that.

You hated those days when you would come back to the apartment only to find her missing, that ominous pink dot on the calendar, and some money left in an envelope for you to take care of yourself for the week. Gladys Presley didn’t even hesitate in offering you a place to stay so you wouldn’t be alone, but as welcoming and kind as the Presley’s were to you during those weeks you felt humiliated not only for having to rely on their hospitality, but also the reason why.

You knew where exactly she went. Everyone in the Lauderdale Courts- hell, everyone in Memphis- knew where she went, as those were the same weeks that your father and his new wife would disappear off the face of the Earth. All those pitiful looks and derisive snorts when you walked by felt the same, they said “oh look, there’s the little unwanted girl.” Your mother went from wife to glorified mistress in a matter of months, and people shaped their own opinions on you solely around that.

You got by though, especially after you were able to get a part time job in Sophmore year. Kitty LeBlanc is perhaps the most feared Alphas this side of Memphis. She and her wife, Jeanie, have been running the Cathouse Beauty Salon, for the last twenty or so years, the place to go when you’re looking to get done up for a date night or a divorce. It’s well known in these parts that any Omegas having trouble with their Alphas need only come to Kitty to get them to start doing right by them. So suffice to say, she was furious at what your daddy did to you, and the only thing stopping her from launching a full scale whisper campaign against your daddy’s store, is that you and your mama were still financially dependent on him and so didn’t want to leave him completely destitute.

But you also had the underlying reason that you needed him to stay open so you could still get the suppressants you needed. They were created way back when during war times, to prevent mated omegas from dying due to their Alphas being gone so long, and nowadays they are only prescribed to mated Omegas under the most extreme of circumstances. Legally you’re not supposed to be on them whatsoever, but while normally your father being a pharmacist had few perks, this was absolutely one of them.

It’s bad enough he’s known for having more or less abandoned an Omega Partner, but it would have absolutely devastated him, socially and legally, if it had gotten out that he had abandoned not one but two Omega children of his. So rather than having that be his reputation he made everyone believe that you in fact were a Beta. And you’re fine with this, because you already push it by acting like an Alpha when you’re known as a Beta, you doubt you’ll be tolerated anymore if it comes out that you’re an Omega.

Kitty would respect your choice and instead offered you a job, mostly sweeping the floors and taking out the trash after school, for a little extra cash on the side. That’s where your interest in makeup first began, seeing how someone could be having the worst day of their lives, but their appearance exhibiting none of that.

“Think of it like a mask,” Kitty would explain to you as you attempted eyeliner for the first time. “You’re only showing the world what you want them to see.”

High school was a bit of a blur, and before you know it you’re in your Senior year. Prom was something you had been looking forward to. You had saved up all your money from the Cathouse to buy a beautiful red dress, had been asked out by a nice Beta boy from your art class, and Kitty promised you the full salon treatment for such a special occasion. Really everything was looking up with the only hitch being how weird Elvis had gotten when you told him about your plans for the evening.

After the talent show (where you almost resorted to pushing him onto the stage), Elvis certainly wasn’t without options, but he still insisted on going Stag with you and the rest of your friends for Prom. Those plans didn’t change with your news but he clearly seemed to have become grumpier as of late.

But you didn’t pay it any mind, as afterall the shit you’d been through up until that point, was one night really too much to ask for. Evidently it was, because as you were getting into David’s car, you realized you had forgotten the evening gloves your mama was letting you borrow, and you ran back into the building only to be met with your mother with a suitcase in hand as she set down an envelope on the small dining table.

You vividly remember how she would look up at you with only the slightest hint of guilt in her eyes, before her expression steels itself with a calm demeanor, as she gives you a cool smile, places the envelope in your hand with a friendly pat, and then she walked out the door without even a glance back.

You would never see her again.

To My Darling Daughter,

I’m sorry for what I have to do, but you must understand that while this is a choice, it’s not an easy one.

If you can take comfort in anything, know that it is your strength and resiliency and seeing you as bold as you are for what you are has inspired me to take control of my own life. I’ve met a Beta man who has promised me a better life away from this place. My only regret is that I can’t bring you with me.

But I know for a fact that you, unlike me, can and will survive on your own.

I Love You So Much,

Mama

You had to read her letter several times, not fully believing the words before you. You recognize that there was a part of you that had wanted this for years. For her to run far and fast from your father, but you had just always assumed she would’ve taken you as well.

You hardly have time to process that as you hear David’s horn honking out at the front. No, instead of sitting with your feelings about the matter, you fix your makeup, grab the gloves, and walk out to the powder blue chevy. After David offers whatever was in the flask he swiped from his daddy, the entire dance turns into a haze, with the only evidence that you were even there being the commemorative photo and the blisters you feel forming on your feet.

“Say Y/N, my folks are outta town this weekend.” David says idly as you’re walking out of the school gymnasium.

“That’s nice,” you slur, not really having heard a word he said, trying hard not to fall on your face as you stumble in your kitten heels.

“So why don’t we head back to my place?” He asks practically buzzing with anticipation.

“Sure fine,” you sigh apathetically, understanding what he’s implying, and going mostly because the prospect of going back to an empty apartment is far more terrifying to you.

You can see the excitement on the Beta boy's face grow until he looks past you and you watch as the blood-drains from his face. “There you are Y/N,” you hear from a strained yet distinct voice behind you. You turn around only to see Elvis’ icy blue eyes somehow burning holes into your date, as he says through gritted teeth. “Your mama made me promise to get you home early.”

You can hardly be faulted for your almost knee-jerk reaction at Elvis’ blatant- well to you-lie: you burst into a near hysterical fit of laughter, to the point tears are streaming down your face. You laugh a little too hard and a little too long at a joke neither boy seems to understand, that David, by the time you’re mostly done, is long gone. It doesn’t matter though, because in your drunken state your thoughts turn to how embarrassed Elvis is going to be when he takes you home and realizes he got caught in a lie, because you don’t have a Mama anymore.

As you’re stumbling to Elvis’ car, he stops you in your tracks, “Y/N, you alright there?” he breathes and you see his nose flares for a moment, no doubt smelling whatever the hell was in that flask. “What did he do?” He hisses, with murder in his eyes.

“Oh dontcha worry about ole’ Davey over there,” you dismiss, as you grip onto one of his forearms to keep yourself standing (when did they get so big?). “How ‘boutchu take me back home because… I. Gotta. Surprise. For. You.” You say, punctuating your last few words, tapping his nose each time. You can see his eyes widen and his adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows nervously, before he quietly agrees.

He gets you back into his daddy’s car seemingly content to have gotten you away from your date, until you’re on the road, and in a fit of… grief… madness… something, you open the window and let one of the evening gloves your mother had let you borrow fly out into the night.

“Ain’t those your mama’s?” He asks, slightly perturbed at your seeming indifference, when you’re usually so careful with your clothes.

“Mmm-hmm,” you hum as you let its twin also fly out. The rest of the ride back to the Lauderdale Courts was filled with a thick silence, as you were upset, and Elvis could tell you were upset, yet neither one of you knew how to address it, so you both remained quiet.

Elvis gets you into the building and in repayment for his act of chivalry, you didn’t vomit all over his rented suit. No, instead you bolt into your apartment, that you had left unlocked for your mama without another word. After brushing the taste of bile and fruit punch out of your mouth, you would find him sitting on your couch with that damn letter in his hands.

It is at that moment where you enter and you see the heartbreak and pity in his eyes for you, did you finally recognize that this wasn’t as funny as you thought it would be. No, in fact it leaves you with a hollow feeling inside of you, seeing him that way, but instead of dealing with that you choose to laugh at the situation.

You laugh because otherwise you’ll cry.

“Tell me Presley,” you joke with him. “You make it a habit of reading through other people’s mail?”

“Y/N, I-I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” he would say, tears welling in his eyes for you.

“Well we got that in common,” you say, wishing to be numb to the whole world by this point.

“I-I just don’t understand wh-why she would do somethin’ like this,” he states, genuinely unbelieving that a mother could do something like this. You’re confused for a different reason, as you can’t quite find the logic in leaving you behind when she was so close to being able to do so legally after you had graduated.

Guess she just wanted out that bad.

“Oh I know why,” you stated as you threw off your shoes and tossed your legs over his lap. “I’m unlovable,” you say flippantly, while shrugging your shoulders. You weren’t seeking his pity nor his comfort. In your mind you were simply stating a fact. The same way you would state that the sky is blue or that water is wet, Y/N is unlovable. How could you not be, as both people that were all but hard-wired to do so, want nothing to do with you?

You see so many emotions pass through his face at your statement. Until he throws his arms around you and brings you as close as possible to him. “You’re not unlovable,” he declares.

“No I am,” you say, resolved to your fate. “I just need to accept that.”

“You’re not unlovable, Y/N,” he blubbers a bit, tears in his eyes, holding your face in his hands. “Because I lo-”

You quickly slap your hand over his mouth, shushing him, truly not wanting to hear the next words to come out. You’re not an idiot, you remember the way he would look at you before either of you presented, it’s the same way he looks at you now, when he thinks you’re not paying attention. But you know, as did he you suspect, that if either one of you were to ever verbally acknowledge it, everything would be ruined.

It’s not like you haven’t thought about it before. Nothing would be wrong considering you are actually an Omega, and anybody would tell you being close friends with an Alpha would eventually lead to this. But one thing throws a wrench into this idea: the fact that the thought of being bonded to an Alpha, even Elvis, terrifies you to your core.

You’ve seen how wrong those relationships could go, what happens to the omega and how the Alpha could get out scott free. You know yourself well enough to recognize that you are far too willful and bold to make for a good wife for an Alpha when most would prefer a more demure, submissive mate. Add in how apparently easy you are to leave behind, you doubt your odds of having the ideal life for an Omega look too good.

In your quieter moments you would wonder who you were supposed to be. If you hadn’t been raised with the expectation that you were going to be an Alpha would you have actually exhibited the traits that go with being an Omega. Or would you have still ended up the same way? Neither scenario fills you with comfort.

You try not to dwell on these thoughts too long, as afterall, as far as Elvis knows, being with you like that is impossible. Besides you and Elvis have a good thing going on right now and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

You’ll later blame the alcohol for what had happened next, as you sat next to him, doing your best to stop crying, in spite of your feelings of being unwanted and unloved. But you’re somewhat comforted by Elvis being so close to you, and you liken your next actions as some latent part of your omega brain trying to compensate for your crippling loneliness that night by trying to start something with the nearest Alpha, who just so happened to be your best friend.

Your face buried in his neck, you could feel yourself steady the longer you breathed in his heady scent of leather and rose water, disparate yet no less intoxicating, all tied to something uniquely him. Something you had never really noticed before, given that the suppressants did a good job of dampening your smell capabilities, but being so close to him now, you begin to understand why the other omegas would get giddy moments before he walked into a room.

You remember just every breath filling you with a sense of comfort and warmth, and simply wanting to be as close to its source as possible. His scent reminded you of burrowing yourself in warm blankets on a cold morning or taking the first sip of hot cocoa on a frigid night, that feeling of being so comfortable in your discomfort that you don’t even recognize what it was until you felt the slightest bit of relief from it.

Wanting to further immerse yourself in that scent, you find yourself quickly going from leaning on him, to full-on straddling him, all so that you could better nuzzle your face into his neck. Though from the rumbling in his chest he didn’t seem to mind your invasion of his space too much. In fact he had followed suit by wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his nose into your neck.

Though his discontented snarls tell you he’s apparently having a hard time. As a “Beta” you hardly even register as an option for him, the suppressants apparently making your scent so subtle, you’re about as appealing as a houseplant to him. You on the other hand were practically getting drunk on what little scent was making its way through to you.

So drunk were you in fact that you didn’t realize what you were doing with your hips until he let out a strained groan that reverberated back onto your neck. You don’t exactly know where your head was at, you just remember that he smelled so good and felt even better against your burning core, which is why you felt little shame as you continued to grind into him, the salacious act being hidden from your view by your skirt.

Your eyes meet his and you’re not exactly sure who leans in first, just that somebody did. But almost like magic, that tentative and nervous brushing of your lips against his, broke you from your spell, and made you realize what exactly you were doing.

You tear yourself away from him, nearly cracking your head on the low table as you land on your rear in front of the couch. Horrifyingly you’re now put at eye-level with his legs where you see something tenting the front of his pants. You take advantage of his utterly bell-rung state as you would pathetically crawl away from him and into your own tiny bedroom, to get away from this confusing and frankly terrifying situation.

There’s no lock to speak of so you block the door with your own body, crying into your hands, praying that he sees himself out, though like usual your wishes go unheard.

“Y/N?” You hear from the last person you want to deal with, knock at your door. His voice quivering as though he’s close to tears.

You sob harder.

“Y/N, I’m beggin’ ya here. Please talk to me,” he says, sounding genuinely distraught.

“Go away, Elvis!” You beg through your blubbering. This back and forth continues for a while until your stubborn nature prevails, and you’re left alone.

And all is right in the world.

You would wake up with a god-awful crick in your neck, and feeling unpleasantly feverish beyond belief. You quickly take your suppressants as you have done religiously since you had started on them, and you would spend the day barricaded in your room waiting for your fever to cool down.

Come Monday, Elvis wouldn’t be in school, and in spite of the fact he was the last person you wanted to see, you were given the task of passing along his school work to him. You were no stranger within the Presley household, oftentimes spending the weeks your mother was in heat with them, as Gladys couldn’t stand the thought of you all alone in that apartment. So it was surprising to say the least when she was the one to bar you from entering the door.

“Sweetheart,” she sighs, looking tiredly between you and the apartment behind her. “Elvis is umm… a bit… sick, and he won’t be fit for seein’ for… a few more days.” The blush on her face and the embarrassment in her voice tell you exactly what exactly is happening to him. You quickly dismiss yourself back to your empty apartment.

Well that at least explained why he let you do… that. He was a young Alpha going into his first Rut, he probably would have done the same with a box of cracker jacks if it promised him a good time. It meant nothing, so you were going to treat it like that.

It made more sense than the alternative of your “mini-heat” sending him into a rut. Afterall everybody knows that only true mates are capable of doing that. Most mated couples take a few cycles in order to sync up properly, while in contrast true mates can almost immediately trigger the other's time just by being in the same vicinity while going through theirs. You’ve also heard rumors of something else happening with those couples, but you’ve never bothered to dive too deep into that, and all you know is that it had something to do with how they almost always get pregnant during their first cycle.

True Mates are just rare enough to be special, but happen frequently enough that everybody at least knows one pair. It felt like every single Omega you met dreamed of finding their true mate regardless of how unlikely it is to happen. It also had all the hallmarks of being devastatingly romantic, with the idea that these are the only bonds that are truly unbreakable and that both parties could potentially die without the other, rather than just the Omega.

In theory it should sate your worries about being left by an Alpha, but it does little to help, as the idea scares the shit out of you. The idea that regardless of your own wishes to never be mated to an alpha, some force has apparently fated you to be with someone. Add to the fact that they have yet to make suppressants sufficiently strong enough to quell an omega with a true mate because apparently the bond is that strong, and all you see is a disaster waiting to happen.

You spend the next week trying to figure out the logistics of living on your own. You know Graduation is roughly a month away and without your mother to renew the lease or your father not willing to pay past his legal obligation, you’re going to be homeless. You can chance it with the foster system you suppose if you declare yourself an unaccompanied Omega, but more than likely they’ll send you back with your father, and he’ll more than likely hock you off to the first Alpha that gives you a second glance.

By the end of the week you’ve accepted that your best option for the time being is hoping that Kitty is kind enough to allow you to stay in the storage closet while you get your full salon training. If you sell everything in the apartment and by the time you're making full salary you may just be able to afford a room in a girl’s boarding house. That is until Gladys Presley, after three days of you dancing around the question of “Where’s your Mama, sweetheart?” finally sat you down and refused to hear any more excuses, and you had to quietly admit how you didn’t know.

Gladys is surely a force to be reckoned with as within an hour of your solemn confession she has you at her table with a warm meal, her couch already set up, and the landlord agreeing to forward you the last two months of payment your father is supposed to pay for rent. But what she can’t fix is the fact that you are suspiciously not making eye contact with Elvis.

You had insisted on making yourself useful and helped Gladys clean up afterwards, but once she and Vernon called it a night, you knew there was no getting around it anymore. At around midnight do you hear Elvis shuffle into the living room, clearly hesitant to have this conversation as well.

“You up?”

“No.”

That gets a short huff out of him before he plants himself on the opposite side of the couch as you, essentially sitting on your feet. The room is too dark to really see him, but the slight shaking in his leg and constant shifting tell you he’s just as uncomfortable as you are.

“Elvis about Prom ni-”

“Are you really a Beta?” he cuts you off.

In spite of the darkness within the room, you still try to school your expression to one of confusion rather than shock. “What kind of question is that?” you say, managing to sound tiredly exasperated with him, while your heart is going a mile a minute. “Of course I’m a Beta, why’d ya think I wasn’t?”

“It’s just…” he pauses. “That night-”

“The night nothing happened.”

“Y/N,” he says severely, a tone he has never in his life used with you. “I need an honest answer here.”

You think about your next words carefully. As far as you know Alpha’s can’t literally sniff out lies, nor do you have any reason to believe he can hear some sort of minute difference between a lie and a truth.

For a brief moment you contemplate being totally honest with him, but you quickly dismiss that notion when you shift slightly and feel the hard edge of the couch armrest. Your situation is far too precarious to risk it on a gamble that he may want you, when if anything this past month has proven how unwanted you are.

“Elvis… you’re my best friend,” you state, as this much is true. “Do you really think I would lie to you about something like this?” you say, too cowardly to lie through your teeth and say no, instead you put it on him as to whether he believes you would do such a thing to your best friend.

He sighs in defeat, believing you wouldn’t invoke your relationship on a lie this big. “No… No, you’re right,” though you can hear the slightest quiver in his voice. “It-it’s just bad luck, that all that happened in the same night.”

“Exactly,” you say relieved that he came to the same conclusion that you did about that night. “E, I-I didn’t get a chance to say this yet but… thank you.”

“For what?”

“For taking me in,” you sigh, not a fan of the coy act.

“It was nothin’ Darlin’,” he says though you can hear him relax a bit at that. “Mama wasn’t ‘bouta let that stand.”

“Well then thanks for nothing Presley,” you say with a grin.

He laughs at that, and says “C’mere you,” as he brings you in close for a hug. You do notice as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, and pointedly takes an extra long whiff of your neck. He’s undoubtedly trying one last ditch effort to prove his theory right only to find nothing.

“But I hope you can accept that I’m your mama’s favorite now,” you say as seriously as you could to break the tension, in an effort to ignore what he just did.

He pauses at that before pushing your face back into the pillow and saying around a smile, “alright, go back to sleep, you.”

Those months following your graduation, there was something so simple about those days, almost idyllic, in an odd way. You would be the first up in the household, so it was on you to push Elvis out of bed, take care of breakfast and lunch for the both of you. He would drive you to work in his company truck listening to the early morning radio and you would muse that it would only be a matter of time before the two of you would be hearing him. He would always get red in the ears at that and drop you off at the salon. He would occasionally drop in for lunch and afterwards the two of you would hit up Beale street for a while before heading home. Have dinner with his folks, go to bed, repeat all of that the next day.

You would often practice your makeup skills on him when Gladys was unavailable, giving you a better understanding as to how to not only put makeup on someone else, but how to also highlight a person’s best features. And working so close on him, did you realize that Elvis had many. In return for your “experimentation,” you would go to every single performance of his as support which evolved into doing makeup for him. Oftentimes you’re the last person he talks to before he gets on stage, as you would often help him clean himself up when he got too in his head about the whole thing, but also the first one to greet him once he got off the stage.

Though as the years went on and performing became more routine, and you find yourself in the midst of show business alongside him. Traveling the country and working on movie sets are never things you ever expected to happen, even in the days when you had your life set out before you.

Those days seem so far away now, as though they were a dream of a different life. But now you were in a new era, the “New Elvis” era, which would be one of the worst you ever had the displeasure of witnessing. It was like watching a Peacock be plucked and be told to still be just as eye-catching, and you let the Colonel know as much. You thought it was bad enough having to see him dressed in tails, but you knew the disaster that was headed your way the moment you saw that damn dog being rolled on stage with him.

When they moved into Graceland, the Presley’s took you along with them, and even tried to offer you a room on the top floor, the one specifically designated for family. It was one of the few times you and the Colonel were on the same page about… anything really, as you were vehemently against the initial room he offered you and instead took a moderately sized room on the first floor.  You did this as you know that keeping some distance between you and them will make it hurt a lot less when they inevitably drop you.

Elvis Presley being in your bed is not an unusual experience, something you had gotten used to way back when your bed was the Presley’s couch, and he made it a habit of letting himself in as he pleased in your room at Graceland. So you hardly blink when you wake up to him laying next to you in the middle of the night. Or rather you do several times in order to get all the sleep out of your eyes and try to get a grip of your bearings as you suddenly awaken to a bed full of rockstar.

You had watched him storm out earlier, all passion and fury at the world that wants different and contradictory things from him all at once. Now all that fire has seemingly been extinguished as he lies next to you hands on his stomach, voice quiet and unsure of himself as he asks “You awake Y/N?” imperceptible through the non-existent lighting in the room.

“No.”

He huffs at you, and you can almost hear the smile on his lips, before the room turns solemn once more. And you give a big tear-welling yawn, but you’re still willing to help him through his identity crisis.

“Sweetheart, be honest with me,” he says into the inky darkness. “This ‘New Elvis” thing… ya’ think it’s a mistake?”

“Yes” you answer without missing a beat. You were never one to mince words for him and you’re not about to start now. “Now answer me this: is your name Frank?”

“No,” he answers confused.

“Is your name Bill?”

“No.”

“Is your name Buddy?”

“Y/N, what the hell are ya gettin’ at?”

“What I’m getting at is if they wanted a old crooner in a boring suit, they woulda gotten Frank Sinatra. They wanted clean sanitized rock n’ roll, they woulda gotten Bill Haley. If they had wanted someone popular but not so controversial, they woulda gotten Buddy Holly.” You say, impassioned as you are sleepy, hoping you’re making even a lick of sense to him. “They didn’t get any of them. But you know who they asked to be there?”

“Me?”

“Who?”

He chuckles before saying, “Elvis Presley.”

“That’s right,” you say, poking his chest. “They want you E, controversy and all, because you know what, ain’t nobody better at getting asses in seats and panties on the floor.”

“Y/N!” he exclaims, scandalized and, you can just imagine, red in the face.  

“It’s true though,” you continue. “Being controversial these days hardly makes a difference anymore.”

“How’d ya figure that?”

“Elvis…” you say solemnly. “To my face people shake their heads and click their tongues as to what my daddy did to me and my mama. That doesn’t stop them from patronizing his store and giving him their money to better support his new family.” You feel him give a comforting rub on your shoulder. “Look what I’m trying to say is that, when what you give is good enough, people will overlook just about everything else. And trust me what you sell… sells.” You pause when you feel something hard beside your feet. “Are you wearing your shoes in my bed?”

“...maybe?”

“Get outta here weirdo,” you huff annoyed at his antics, and use all of your might to push him out.

“Alright, alright,” he says, acquiescing and getting out of your bed. “Guess I’ll head to that diner you love all by myself.” You can almost hear the smirk when his statement gets the pause he was looking for.

“You’re a cruel, cruel man Elvis Presley,” you declare. “Give me 20 minutes.”

The next day at Russwood Park, you’re putting the final touches on him before he gets on stage. You can still see the tiniest bit of conflict still on his face so you tickle his nose with your makeup brush to get his attention. “Remember. They don’t like how it sounds…” you trail off.

“They don’t gotta listen.” he finishes, apparently remembering your bit of 12 year old wisdom. Once he got on stage, he would take your advice, but the next time he would crawl back into your bed would be the night he got his draft notice.

None of you were exactly surprised, as everybody had known to expect it sooner rather than later, especially given that Elvis had slowly and steadily become one of the most controversial singers in the country. However the days immediately following it were some of the bleakest you’ve ever experienced.

With The Colonel’s whole rebranding spiel, and how much trouble he got in after Russwood Park, the fresh start idea isn’t terrible at this point, but you wish you could have gotten out easier. As cold as it sounds to say, you now saw the writing on the wall. You’re fully aware of the fact that, of his crew, his make-up girl is on the lowest of priorities. Regardless of how fond he is of you, he is undoubtedly about to be put under a microscope and whether he realizes it or not, he’s about to embark on a new chapter of his life, a chapter that more than likely doesn’t include you.

You want to do your best to put on a brave face for him, the last thing you want to do is add to his stress. And besides it isn’t like you ever truly believed that this was in any way permanent. As life had taught you that nothing is permanent, so why would living with the Presley’s be any different?

It’s just a hard fact of your life that people inevitably get tired of you, and you get left behind for something better. As fun as it’s been with Elvis and his family, never once did you trick yourself into believing that this is how it would be forever. Maybe in those simpler days of practicing makeup on him in the bathroom and lunches in the bed of his company pick up truck… maybe. But as Elvis’ star burned brighter, you were snapped back to reality at how temporary and tenuous your situation was. The same way Elvis outgrew Lauderdale courts, he would outgrow you.

What would he even need his make-up girl for while he’s deployed? The Colonel made it clear he’s not to perform while he’s enlisted, and you doubt wearing makeup will do him any favors in the barracks. And besides, Omegas are unable to even get a passport in Tennessee without explicit permission from their designated Alpha, who in your case, would still be your father.

The father whom you interact with very little these days, the last time being almost a year ago and that was simply to stock up on a year's worth of suppressants. Your father whose business is not seeing as many customers these days because as far as Kitty knows, you don’t need anything from him any more.

Bright side of this is that at the very least you’re not without options this time around. Kitty had made it loud and clear that you’ll always have a place at the Cathouse, and hell you have enough savings to see you through the next few years in Memphis if you simply wanted to wait out his time in the army. But neither seemed appealing to you, as either way your future would still rely on others' good will.

When Elvis had started making movies, of course he dragged you along for the ride up there. You were still the only one he trusted to do his makeup and as a result the studio ended up giving you a crash course as to how to do movie makeup, which you learned was a completely different beast to stage makeup, as you now had to toe the fine line of subtlety. Regardless of all that you did end up making a pretty important discovery, in regard to potential future prospects for yourself. You learned that in the movie making business, Betas are like gold in Hollywood especially for the more practical and technical parts of movie making. This is all due in part to the fact of their overall lack of appeal to Alpha actors, as well as not being as distracting for Omega ones either, not to mention they are far more reliable as they don’t have to worry about pesky heats or ruts.

You also learned that up in Hollywood, you could get access to suppressants about as easily as you could get your hands on a packet of M&M’s, as unlike in Tennessee you didn’t need to be mated in order to gain access to them. As a result, you discovered there were more than a few behind the scenes hands who were also Omegas that masqueraded as Betas in order to get work on the sets, doing wonders to make you feel less out of place there.

Janet, the head of the make-up department Paramount, was initially reluctant to have you aboard but was nonetheless impressed with your ability to pick up the craft as quickly as you did. You had kept her phone number from way back when and decided that now would be a good time to take her up on that job offer. She was ecstatic to bring you onboard but the hiring process being what it is you still technically need to be recommended by former employers.

“You sure I can’t sway you to come back here,” Kitty says as she’s signing the bottom of the letter. The sentimental part of yourself that you had believed you had smothered long ago is screaming yes in your head, not wanting to leave everything you ever knew in Memphis, but the pragmatic part of you knew that your days here are numbered.

You want to be able to bury yourself in her chest and tell her how she’s been like a parent to you all these years. To thank her for all the years she’s cared for you in whatever way she could, taught you your trade that has proven invaluable, steered you in the right direction. But all of that feels too final for your liking, and instead you remark “Unless you got a rich Beta man in the back, then no dice,” all the while giving a casual shrug.  

“Well at least you ain’t followin’ that good for nothin’ boy across the world,” she sighs in relief. Kitty was not a fan of Elvis, she made no secret about it, less so when you turned in your resignation to be his makeup assistant for the Louisiana Hayride. Your best guess as to the animosity is how eerily similar they are when you really pay attention. The same way Kitty could give a single look to any fellow Alpha she had ever met, and make them act right, Elvis could do the same, except make them act however he liked. They’re the type of people that just magnetically attract those around them.

But you also think that it is also on the principle that she dislikes any and all partners her children bring around… Which is ridiculous because everybody knows it’s impossible.

You decide not to waste the trip into town and start heading toward your least favorite place in Memphis. You only make this trip once a year anymore, and you’re hoping to make this as quick and painless as possible. But as the little shop below your old home comes into view, do you recognize what a tall order that is.

“What in the hell is this?” your father seethes as you approach the counter, throwing down a newspaper before you. You see yourself wide-eyed looking into a camera with Elvis leading you by the hand into the car after Russwood Park. The draft notice had left the paper's tongues wagging and apparently of all the photos of him that have been printed, it was just your luck that this one was apparently the one most worthy of being reprinted.

Rather than react with the same guilt or shame that any normal Omega would have when confronted by their father as to why they were seen with perhaps the most controversial Alpha in America, you idly pick up and open a candy bar that was sitting at the front.

“A newspaper,” you say with a mouthful of Baby Ruth. “Can I have what I came here for now?” He throws the pages at you, but if you learned anything from him, it is that flinching earns you nothing but letting the other person know you’re scared of them.  

“Don’t be cute with me girl,” he spits that last part as though you were a stranger and not his daughter. “Why the hell do I find out like this you’re living with that boy?”

“You didn’t care a single goddamn bit where I was livin’ before, why’s it matter now?”

“It matters because what you’ve been doin’ makes me look like a bad father lettin’ my own daughter run around with that… that…” he says snapping his fingers, searching for the right word.

“Degenerate?” you finish for him, as it is the most common insult you’ve lobbed Elvis’ way.

“Don’t interrupt me,” he seethes, a rumble emanating from his chest, but after being surrounded by the likes of Elvis and Kitty, this does absolutely nothing for you, and you wonder how anybody has ever been intimidated by this man.

“Well good news, the only reason you look like a bad father, is because you are a bad father,” you tell him with a smile on your face. “No one thinks of you enough to bother telling lies about you.”

“Outta the kindness of my heart, I been footin’ the bill for these,” he holds up the bag for emphasis. “Only to find out you've been holdin’ out on me.”

“Mmm-hmm, of course that’s what this is about,” a smirk on your face, figuring ou what has got him so worked up. “Why you so worried about money? Saving up for your next attempt at an Alpha kid that’s not gonna happen?”

“Don’t think I don’t know about you and that vicious bitch of a woman, you been costin’ me more money than what these pills are worth for years,” he spits.

“Pills you put me on,” you accuse. The argument ceases almost immediately when you hear the tell-tale ring of the bell at the front of the shop.

“You gonna pay me what I’m owed, or no?”

You want to refuse on principle alone, but you’re so close to being free from all of it, so you don't want to risk it so soon. But you know the kind of trouble something like that could dredge up for you specifically. So it’s with a heavy heart that you agree to pay for them once you get paid for the next movie.

But if your father is good at one thing, it’s believing in his own myth of being the big tough, and in charge Alpha. That you as an Omega will have no choice but to obey his will, even as he hands over the very tool that negates his influence over you.

You have no intention of ever paying him a single goddamn cent of any of it. You’re only on them because of him, and if he wants to scream and holler about how you owe him money, but he won’t be able to do a damn thing, lest he out himself as well.

Besides, you'll be long gone by the time he wises up to the fact that you won’t be paying.

Now there’s only one more letter you need, and it’s not as easy as you would have hoped for. After getting your medicine, you take a few days to really pluck up the courage to do so. He’s been a lot testier these last few days, as was to be expected considering the circumstances.

If all goes well you’ll be able to work on this final movie together with him, before you part ways, and leave with the crew back to California. If not… well you’ll probably just start making your trip far earlier than expected.

You find him in the upstairs office, looking through mail, a stony expression on his face, but it lightens considerably when he sees you with the food Gladys has sent you up with. Well, more like you insisted on taking it up as you’ve been hoping to catch him in a good mood, as there are few things on this Earth that put him in a better one than his mama’s cooking.

“Sorry to bother you E,”

“Ain’t no bother,” he insists, moving some papers out of view to make way for the dish. “I’m tryin’ to get a head count for how big a house I need on base in Texas.”

“How many you at now?”

“Including you? 7,” he says casually, taking a bite out of his food.

“Why would you include me?” You say genuinely confused.

He pauses at that, positively shocked by your response, until a grins splits his face and he gives a short huff of a laugh. “You almost had me there, Y/N,” he chuckles at your apparent antics, settling back into his affable disposition.

You swallow nervously at that, “That’s actually kinda what I came to talk to you about. I-I got offered a job from Paramount out west to work for them, but they’re saying I nee-”

“Jokes over,” he declares, his smile dropping a little, bypassing what you were trying to say. “You got me, alright?”

“... Not alright, Elvis,” you state trying to get your point across. “I’m trying to tell you I’m getting another jo-”

“Y/N,” he says, cutting off your plea, the look in his eyes familiar, but you’ve never had the misfortune of it being directed at you. “Quit the jokin’ now,” he says, his tone severe which you do not care for one bit, but you have to tread lightly if you want to get his sign off.  

“I’m serious Elvis… this… this probably isn’t the best time,” you sigh, for once in your life trying to be careful with your words. “Th-the studio needs letters from former bosses to know that I can do the job, an-and I was hoping you could write one for me.”

The tension hangs thick between the two of you once you are finally able to make your point. You swallow nervously but you don’t sway and inch as he stands from his desk.

“If this is a ploy to get a raise,” he said coldly. “You win Y/N, I’ll pay ye’ whatcha want?”

“No Elvis…” you sigh, trying to keep a cap on your frustration. “You’re not listening. I’ve got a new job lined up in Hollywood, I just need you to write a letter for them telling you I can..” you trail off seeing the expression of fury in his face.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me right now Y/N!?!?”

“I think we’ve established that I’m not joking right now,” you say bitingly, your hatred of being yelled at overriding all other things.

“So what… you’re gonna leave me high and dry when I need ya’ the most!?” He says, something akin to heartbreak painting his features.

“Why do you gotta say it like that? Like I’m breaking up with you?” you argue, not liking how he’s making this a bigger deal than it is. “It ain’t like you’re gonna need a make-up girl while you’re doing drills.”

“But I’m gonna need you!” He asserts, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Oh don’t be like that,” you tell him, literally shrugging him off. “It’s not like I’m gonna be able to live on base with you.

“Then we don’t gotta live on base.” he waves away, as though it were that simple.

“Elvis… I don’t wanna go with you,” you say simply leaving it at that leaving no room for him to argue the logistics of it. It hurts but you know you gotta get out now while the getting is good, because if you wait any longer, he’ll be the one that leaves first and that will be all the worse. For the first time in your life, you want to be the one that walks away on your own terms. “E, I-I gotta go where the work is,” you try to justify.

“So that’s it ain’t it,” he says, his pursed lips turning into a frown. “this was all just a job to you and you’re leaving cuz there ain’t one no more?” he shakes his head at you, disappointment evident on his face.

That… that cuts deep. That he can reduce not only his role in your life like that without guilt, as though you’ve been playing the longest con in history, when you first decided to defend a scrawny 12 year old from his nay-saying music teacher.

“Yes Elvis, if that’s what you want to hear,” you say without a hint of hesitation, willing your tears not to fall now of all times. “This has all just one big job for me, has been since the very beginning. Now there ain’t no job to have and I gotta fucking move on with my life because I don’t fucking need you anymore!” It doesn’t feel great as it leaves your mouth, and the angry tears streaming down your face prove it.

Nor does it get any better when you watch him stagger a bit at that, as though he had just been shot, even taking a hold of the corner of his desk for full effect. A million emotions pass through his face in seconds until he eventually lands on pure unadulterated fury. “Get out! I don’t wanna fuckin’ look at you right now!” he shouts dismissing you, his hands shaking as though itching to wring your neck.

“You got it Boss,” you say bitingly while giving a sarcastic curtsey, to which you turn around and walk out of the room, paying no mind to the destructive sounds coming from behind you. In spite of the biting cold outside your rage is keeping you warm as you pace back and forth along the back patio, trying to figure out your next move.

You’ve had your fights with Elvis before, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen so upset past the point of not wanting to talk with you. Even the biggest blow out between the two of you was exactly that, when he had walked in on you with that Beta who served cotton candy.  

“Well now you know what I’d do for cotton candy,” you tried to joke after they had left, but Elvis proceeded to scream in your face, asking how dare you do something like this to him. You’d seen his territorial side before, as you’re not stupid enough to actually believe there isn’t anything behind all the times he’d casually pick you up and take you away when you happened to be talking to some Beta. But you did not care for being screamed at whatsoever, so you packed your things and proceeded to walk to the nearest bus station. You proved yourself to be far more stubborn than him, as you walked down the road, ignoring his demands that you get into the car as it crawled at a near snail’s pace to keep up with you, and talk you out of going back to Memphis.

As the cars lined up and started honking, you refused him still, even his threats to throw you into the trunk if need be, you didn’t falter. It wouldn’t be any sweat for him to do so, what with that crazy alpha strength of his, but you both knew that would hardly be the end of it if he resorted to that. Finally as the bus terminal got within view did he finally crack and promised to never yell at you like that again.

“You drive me up the goddamn wall, Y/N,” he says, rubbing his eyes.

“You love it,” you declared, glad to finally be able to rest your feet, having picked the worst shoes to walk in.

“Yeah… I do,” he sighs and looks over at you from the driver's side. There is a bit of an awkward pause as you find your faces much closer than you remembered and he glances down at your lips.

“God, I’m starving. I don’t know about you,” you quickly say, turning your torso fully around to look out your window, trying to break the tension. “But I could go for a bite and I think I saw a diner up ahead.”

You hear him clear his throat, as he hoarsely replies with a simple “Yeah.” By the time the two of you returned to the motel, you’re the best of friends once more, and neither of you ever mentioned that awkward bit again.

You had hoped after all this time he would’ve let go of that weird possessiveness he has over you. With all the girls that he could have, why do you matter to him so much? You know you’re good with makeup, but you know so are many other girls. And he is capable of opening up to them as he does with you if only he ever got his head out of his ass.

Christmas Eve, Gladys spends the day cooking up a storm, roping in you and Dodger, determined to make this the best Christmas yet. Elvis is still not talking to you but you do find him when you’re looking for your purse, and you watch briefly as he stares deeply into the fireplace, something he’s been doing a lot since your fight.

But he’s got another thing coming if he thinks that you have anything to apologize for. You’ll be leaving with or without his permission… which you absolutely do not need either way. And if he chooses to end your friendship like this, then so be it.

Hell if need be you’ll go over his head and ask the Colonel for a letter. You have no doubt that if it means getting you away from Elvis, the Colonel will write nothing short of a glowing review and personally hand deliver it to Paramount.

Christmas day comes and everyone and their mother is over to celebrate. Everybody is living it up and trying their best to not acknowledge the big ole’ elephant in the room. Elvis seemed to be in higher spirits though as he proceeded to act like nothing was amiss, trying to make this a good Christmas for all. It’s almost as though the weather itself knew his plans for a perfect Christmas with the fresh blanket of snow that covered the outside.

Everyone tries to follow suit with keeping up the festive denial, though it doesn’t take long of the both of you obviously avoiding each other for seemingly everyone to notice something is wrong. Some point blank ask what happened between the two of you.

Some of the guys, weirdly enough, ask if you’re feeling sick, which is an odd experience considering that their eyes tend to slide right over you most days. You find yourself compulsively checking yourself in any available surface over and over again, trying to figure out what had them questioning your state. Nothing is out of place, your makeup is flawless and your outfit is perfectly coordinated and festive.

You look beautiful and nothing is wrong. You’re hoping if you repeat that enough times you’ll start to believe that.

You eventually call it a night after a few hours though not before presents are exchanged and you get the pleasure of seeing Elvis' eyes go a bit glassy once he puts on the new coat you got for him only to find the pockets filled with Gum and Guitar strings, because as upset as you are with him you’re not about to break tradition.

By the time you make it back to your room you all but pass out fully dressed on top of your sheets, and you feel the slightest twinge of guilt when you wake up wrapped in Elvis' old Crown Electric Jacket. You don’t really get a chance to dwell on that too much though as after taking your suppressant, do you notice the noise- or better yet the lack thereof.  

Graceland is many things but it is definitely never quiet, you learned that early on into moving in. There was always something happening, someone visiting, and something new to do, with the occasional errant chicken running around the house, so it takes not even an hour that first day for you to notice the silence.

It’s almost like a ghost town on the floor below, with the only soul to be found, being the head of this household idling away at the piano. You’re about to head back to your room, wanting absolutely none of this until you hear a “Y/N?” from the piano room. You silently curse his uncanny knack for sniffing you out when others couldn’t, while simultaneously breathing an internal sigh of relief that he no longer sounds angry at you.

“Yeah it’s me E,” you state as you walk into the room, resolved to whatever fate you had signed yourself up for.

He turns around to see you see his face flushed and his eyes puffy, no doubt he’s been having trouble sleeping again.

“Y/N… we’re close right,” he asks genuinely, and you know that that boss comment hurt him deeply.

“We’ve both seen each other without makeup, absolutely nothing is closer than that.” you answer.

That gets a chuckle out of him at least, and it’s almost a relief to hear it after going without it for so long. “How many years we been knowin’ each other?” he asks solemnly, as you sit next to him on the piano bench.

It’s as you're saying 8 do you actually realize how long it’s been. “Time is one sneaky sonuvabitch,” you say, your eyes still wide at the revelation.

He laughs a bit at your reaction, “It sure is,” he says. The next look you can’t quite read as he says, “That's 8 years of believing in my dream longer than even I did at some points.” His eyes wide and his face soft.

You’re very uncomfortable at the amount of vulnerability being shown right now and you quickly course correct by lightly moving his chin with your fist and saying, “Hey now don't chu go gettin’ soft on me Presley,” you say, laughing to mask your nervousness.

He takes your hand in his as he says “What I’m tryin’ ta say Y/N, is th-that it’s been 8 years of you supportin’ me in whatever way I needed.” He gives a sad smile at this, before he continues, “I figure it’s ‘bout time I pay that back. I’ll write whatcha need darlin’.”

You’re stunned at this, truly having believed you would be the first to crack. But here he is, subverting expectations as usual. You’re not the most physically affectionate person, you’ll admit, but you can’t help the overwhelming urge to hug him. Not the obligatory side hugs you give on occasion, nor the awkwardly stiff stance when someone hugs you. This is a full on arms-behind his neck bury your face in his neck kind of hug, as you squeal you thank yous over and over to him.

You remember yourself, you pull away slightly once you feel his hands on your lower back tenderly holding you to him, and with your hands on his chest you look at him directly in the face. His eyes gazing up at you, a soft smile on his plush lips, his breathing steady and strong, as opposed to yours which hitches in your throat.

You clear your throat, “Say where is everybody?” you ask casually releasing yourself from his grip and turning your attention toward the window, which showcased the freshly fallen untouched snow of December.

He approaches you from behind and idly places a warm hand on your shoulder, before saying“I let everyone know I need some alone time and I didn’t really wanna see anyone, till we hear back ‘bout the deferment.”

“Shit sorry,” you say, quickly trying to get up. “I’lll get outta your hair,” you say, only for his grip on your shoulder to slip down to your waist.

“You’re not just anyone to me Y/N,” he drawls, his face far closer than necessary.

"Okay weirdo," you say, turning away hoping your face isn’t radiating how warm you’re feeling. You focus your attention on the snow covered lawn before you declare, "But if this ends up like the Donner's, I'm eating you first."

That gives him pause and you see as he purses his lips, clearly trying to hide a smile before he leans in real close to your ear. You don’t fully understand why your heart seemingly skips a beat as he says in a husky drawl, "Not if I don't eat you first."

There was the briefest of moments when you feel your face heat up at his tone until you roll your eyes at him and move him and his stupid little lip bite away from you. You turn around and try to leave the room, content that your little orphan angry ass isn’t going to be thrown out into the snow just yet. But before you can do so, you feel him grab a hold of your wrist, “ain’tcha cold like that darlin’?”

You look down only to be reminded that you had not in fact dressed for the weather today and your short-sleeve blouse and light skirt reflect that. Though oddly you don’t feel the least bit cold, and you feel mildly perturbed as to how in fact you are feeling very comfortable like this. Though of course you hide your concern by saying “You forget, I’m cold-blooded Presley.”  

“Of course you lil’ lizard you,” he says with a smile on his face, as he’s taking off his own jacket. “But mama would have my hide if she found out I let you walk around like that and get sick,” and he drapes the warm material around your shoulders, and then chucks you under your chin to look at him. In spite of your supposedly “cold-blood” you feel uncharacteristically warm as he looks at you.

You quickly make your way back to your room, to open up that secret compartment of your purse to find your suppressants. You take them religiously and know exactly how many you should have left by this point, and you’re relieved to find the correct amount left. You quickly think back to everything that you’ve eaten in the last few days, and nothing sticks out to you that would have affected them and you don’t drink whatsoever so it couldn’t be any of that.

Finally you’re left with no choice but to chalk it up as nothing but you being paranoid. You decide to read on the couch, and somehow between the warmth of his jacket and the soft notes he’s playing, you find yourself in a hypnotic trance and you give into the heavy feeling of your eyelids.

You’re later startled awake when you feel something hit you squarely in the face, confused until the snow begins to melt on you and you feel the cool burn of the cold water on your chest. Elvis is laughing his ass off seeing you like this and nimbly dodges when you throw one of your house slippers at him.

“There were easier ways of wakin’ me up,” you remark through your exasperation.

“Ain’t one of ‘em as funny though,” he says slyly, and you roll your eyes, but your sigh tells him you can’t help but agree. “‘Sides that Twilight show’s ‘bouta start, and I knew you woulda done worse if I let you miss it.”

You’re surprised at that, and as you look out to the dreary looking sky you see that it has in fact been more than a few hours since you’ve been asleep. But it hardly feels like any time has passed between now and then as you still feel like you could sleep for another few hours or even days. You quickly disregard these thoughts though as he tells you it’s only a matter of time before your favorite shows starts.

You take a seat next to him just in time to catch the beginning of Twilight Zone, placing the popcorn between the two of you. You have always loved scary stories like this, and Elvis loved scaring you when you got too wrapped up in the stories. Low and behold as you’re anxiously waiting for Inger Stevens to come across the hitchhiker once again, you feel his cool hands grasp at your side making you all but jump out of your skin.

“I hate you,” you say mulishly as he continues to laugh. Though he doesn’t remove his arm from around your waist which takes your full focus off of the screen, as you look down at his hand curled around your side. You move slightly away from him only for his grip to tighten and you’re pulled even further into him until you're all but sitting on his lap. You’re viscerally reminded of Prom and wonder briefly if he even remembers that night anymore, or if it’s become lost in the shuffle amongst all of the other girls he’s had over the years, and an ugly feeling of jealousy shoots through you in that moment.

“Oh there’s the popcorn,” you say, as you use your whole body to stand up and get off of his lap. You grab it and rather than get back on the couch, you sit yourself on the floor, clutching the bowl in front of yourself as though it were a shield, as Perry Mason was just about to start. You’re hesitant to look at him right now, until he reaches down and grabs a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

“Wait I know how this one ends,” Elvis says, with a cheeky grin. “Perry Mason wins.”

He’s just a naturally touchy person, you justify to yourself, don’t read too much into it. “It’s not about if, it’s how goddamnit,” you assert, with a smile on your face. As the show continues you hardly notice when Elvis makes his way to the floor or when he casually throws an arm around your shoulder, though that’s mostly due to the fact that by the half-way mark of the episode, you were struggling to keep your eyes open. Even finding yourself leaning on him more and more, and if you weren’t so tired you would wonder why, considering that you spent most of the day napping.

No, you just find yourself silently grateful for that crazy Alpha strength of his to carry you to bed, your bed feeling more comfortable than you can ever remember it as you settle in.

Waking up to find Elvis in your bed is not unusual. Waking up to him under the sheets with you holding you around your waist is rare but occasionally does happen.  Waking up to find that you’re in his bed as he nuzzles his nose into your neck with a handful of your ass while… something… pokes your belly, absolutely unheard of.

You try to peel his hand off and carefully remove yourself from his grip, only for him to roll over fully on top of you and bury himself between your breasts. You stop breathing entirely for a moment, too worried that any sort of chest-heaving may wake him and make this whole situation all the more uncomfortable. Part of you wishes to go back to sleep and hope that this was simply a bad dream, but as he shifts you feel his thigh place itself firmly by your core, the action so sudden and shocking that you audibly gasp.

You feel him stir at that and your face is burning, embarrassed by this whole ordeal, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling you get as he plants a sleepy kiss on your neck and removes himself from you. You think you’ve reached new heights of humiliation, until you find him between your thighs and feel one of his hands start to travel up your skirt.

This has got to be a dream, you think.

“Ok, you’ve had your fun,” you say, trying not to make your skittishness so apparent. “You can quit it now,” but then his other hand travels further up and you’re almost too distracted to notice its twin hook on to your panties and begin to drag them down. And before you can make any noise of protest, it turns into a surprised squeak as you feel his hot breath waft over your now naked cunt. You’re frozen in place as to what the hell is going on, both fearful and hopeful as to what he’s about to do next.  

Those seconds seem to drag on for hours, there’s nothing stopping you from closing your legs or even covering yourself with your hands, but neither of these occur to you. Instead you lay there paralyzed as he further parts your thighs and using his tongue lightly trace up the seam of your cunt.

That sends you into overdrive and removes any possibility that this is a dream, as he languidly tongues your core. Your hips almost immediately buck up but he keeps you down with a forearm across your lower belly, as he tenderly nurses at your clit.

You grab at his hair but that only seems to further invigorate him, as his groans seem to reverberate off of your walls and he goes from focusing on that bundle of nerves, to delving lower and lower to that seldom explored entrance of your cunt. You restlessly try to push his head away from you, but your thighs apparently have a mind of their own as they box him in when you feel the tip of tongue lightly trace the rim of your fluttering hole.

His tongue, you are learning, has talents well beyond singing as you feel that wicked muscle eagerly delve into what little access you have (reluctantly?) granted him. The pleased hums he’s making, demonstrating how much he’s enjoying the act don’t help either.

Eventually you find your hands running through the hair that you, probably more than anyone in the world, are most intimately familiar with, even seeing the hint of his light roots that you’ve neglected to touch up in the last few days. You’re at the very least glad that the two of you are alone in the house, because you doubt you would have been able to muffle the downright filthy sounds coming out of your mouth.

The noises you’re making seem to only spur him further, as his thumb goes from an unhurried pace to a far more goal-oriented motions as his tongue goes rigid and plunges as deep as it could go and then, almost playfully, wiggles within you.

You’re left seeing stars, your pussy clamping down around his tongue, though he removes it almost immediately in order to prolong your euphoria by sucking on that little button of yours.

Even after all of that, you still held out hope that this was some weird sleepwalking episode and somehow feeling another warm body, he was going off of instincts until he removes himself from your pussy, nonchalantly wiping his mouth with his thumb, and looks you right in the eye with a look that tells you he has an appetite that has only been mildly wetted.

“Guess I ate ya’ first darlin’,” he remarks with a very sweet kiss to your lips, as though he didn’t just make you have the best orgasm of your life. God you’re so familiar with these lips, yet it still takes you by surprise as to how soft they feel against your own. You’re only human so lord forgive if you wish to indulge in the fantasy of perhaps every teenage omega in the country. But quickly you gain your bearings, remembering that as far as he’s concerned, you’re a Beta through, and through.

It kills you a little to remove yourself, breathing raggedly as you try to come to grips with what is happening. His eyes are blown out entirely, and he licks his lips as though you’re a meal waiting to be devoured, but even then you instinctively know he’s seeing you as you are.

This trance you’re both in is broken by the shrill ring of the phone from the upstairs office. He gives a soft curse, before he rolls out of bed and casually walks out of the room. You’re left leaning against the pillows. Looking up at the ceiling, utterly shell-shocked, mindlessly fixing your skirt to cover up your bare pussy as you try to figure out what the hell just happened.

But it’s as you’re doing that does an unbearable fire come upon you. A terrible fever emanating from your lower belly overwhelms you and as you helplessly inch out of his bed every instinct within you is screaming how bad of an idea that actually is. Every step away from that bed is agony, as though you’re wading through lava, away from any safe haven you may have found. Even trying to move your panties back into place feels scalding and you’re left with no choice but to remove them completely, leaving you completely accessible. You shiver at the thought, and not from the cold.

Briefly you wonder if maybe Elvis had something to do with this sickness you’re experiencing, but as you feel a throbbing emptiness from deep within you, do you realize that this is in fact a long ignored part of yourself that is simply roaring back to life. You finally recognize what exactly this is and recognize what sort of trouble you’re in.

You skittishly look out the door and, finding the office door closed with his voice behind it, you make a quick beeline to the staircase, and from there dash to your room, where you quickly barricade yourself in with your vanity table. And in the mirror are you forced to face what you are. Your eyes blown out, your clothes wrinkled and disheveled, the makeup you neglected to take off before bed smudged, sweat running from the warmth emanating from within you, and your whole body trembling under the effort to not flip over the table and run directly back to him. Not to mention the slippery feeling of your thighs as your slick runs freely, unhindered by any. You look at the very image of the idyllic debauched Omega and you finally recognize something is very wrong.

You have never in your life neglected to take your suppressant a day in your life, and quickly counting them, you find no extras, so that’s clearly not the case. It is as you are doing a double count do you realize something off about them. Looking directly at your suppressants underneath the light, they looked off. They were a slightly more yellowish white than they usually are and picking one up to inspect it, your nail catches the edge of it and it crumbles a bit. Neither of these things bode well for you. You desperately look for your extra doses of suppressants only to find them missing.

That’s when it goes from less than ideal to utter nightmare territory. You don’t know how nor do you know why, but your suppressants are no longer effective and you may very well be hurdling full force into heat, alone in a home with an unmated, virile Alpha. You immediately get to packing what you can, trying to figure out your best means of escape.

You try to assess your options as to where you can go for the next few days, but with all your options being either Alphas or out of town, you have no choice but to go back to your father. But your most pressing issue as of right now is how you’re going to get out of this room. Your windows are sealed shut, so you’re left with no choice but to venture out back into the house and pray he’s still upstairs.

You’ve done your best to ignore the steady stream of slick that has been running between your thighs, but the idea that he’s out there somewhere, causes a new rush of it to burst out, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you lose all restraint and give in to what your biology is demanding of you.

You made a beeline for the front door, your mind determined to make it out of Graceland but it was upon actually getting to the front door do you find your hands hesitating for a second. Some latent part of yourself really questions if it would be so bad to be his, questions why you have to fight it when he’s been nothing but good to you.

But it was your moment of hesitation that gave enough time for a familiar ringed hand to slam the door shut on you. “Baby, there you are,” despite the door now shutting out the cold, you can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine.

“Elvis I-I-I,” you swallow, his scent so heady and powerful you can almost taste him on the back of your tongue. “I need to leave.”

“I just got the good news,” he states, completely blowing past what you just said. “They granted me the deferment for the movie.”

“Elvis, I’m begging you,” you plead, as a bruising grip on your wrist forces you to let go of your packed bag. You’ve only ever cried once in your life in front of him, but now the tears flow freely down your face.

“Don'tchu worry your pretty little head ‘bout anythin’ darlin’,” he coos, wiping the tears from your cheek. “You go where I go, ain’t nothin’ gonna change ‘bout that.”

Even after all the time that had passed, you can still vaguely taste yourself on him, not an unpleasant taste, but your thoughts quickly turn to wondering how he would taste, or better yet how the both of you would taste together. The kiss becomes heavier and deeper as you wrap your arms around him and boldly run your tongue over those sharp canines of his, some masochistic part of you demanding to press harder.

Your chest is heaving, needing more oxygen than you personally think is necessary, and yet you find yourself giving pathetic little whimpers as he leaves your lips in favor of marking a trail of kisses down your body.

He kneels down before you, burying his face in the crevice between your thighs, the only barrier between you and him, being the thin material of your skirt. It was only then did you notice the brief relief from the fever you felt, all due to his close proximity. “You smell ripe for the pickin’ sweetheart,” he breathes out in a raspy tone, looking up at you as though he were in prayer, as his hand drags the zipper of your skirt down. It slips down fully with only the slightest of tugs, and your left trembling, bare from the waist down in front of him, as your thighs shift uneasily the slick that’s gathered making it all the easier.

You try not to look down at him, as though that will stop what’s happening right now. His tongue is now collecting every trace of your wetness it could find and just barely missing where you feel you need him most, to which you’re not afraid to voice your disapproval of.

“Don’t mind if I take the first bite,” he whispers, the tip of a canine barely scraping the smooth skin of your thigh. It’s that contact that reminds you what exactly is at stake here. Without warning you do your best to push him to the ground. He’s caught off guard but manages to catch himself before he lands on his ass, but the momentary surprise gives you just enough room to slip out.

You are about to sprint all the way back to your room, hoping to lock yourself in, until you feel an iron-like grip on your ankle. You’re barely able to catch yourself with your hands, but you're quickly dragged backwards. You desperately claw at the carpets, trying to find some kind of purchase only for him to grab a hold of both your wrists in one hand.

And that’s that. You’re thoroughly wrangled, no means of escape and no one coming to save you. You recognize how thoroughly fucked you are (or ar going to be) and that really no point in fighting it anymore, but you can’t even trust yourself enough to say that it wasn’t intentional on some level.

Let it never be said you’re not stubborn until the very end.

“Now I didn’t appreciate that one bit,” he hisses at you, and you hear the tell the shifting of fabric as he moves his pants down his hips, still holding your wrists down.

“Please Elvis,” you say desperately, only managing to wiggle your hips slightly which doesn’t help your case whatsoever. His hand is now splayed along your lower belly, as he lifts your hips into a new position to you, your cheek still stuck to the carpet. “You don’t want to do this,” you sob hoping he’s not too far gone, though with the way he groans at the feeling of your warm ass on the underside of his cock, even you understand there’s nothing that’s going to stop this from happening.

“What I want is ta tan your hide, for denyin’ me this sweet little pussy a yours for all these years,” he growls hungrily next to your ear, and those words shouldn’t have you keening and writhing like you were, but they do and you are. “But we’ll save that when it won’t be so pleasant for you. ‘Sides your cunt is achey enough already, ain’t it?” he purrs, the head of him prodding at your core, barely catching the rim of your entrance.

“Yes, oohh yes Elvis,” you whine, pathetically. “Please-”

You can’t say for certain whether or not you were gonna continue to deny him, all you can say is that all thoughts or hesitations seem to melt away as you feel him push himself in. Your eyes threaten to roll back all the way into your head, it felt so good. You're practically dripping wet at this point, but even still the girth is still something to contend with, as you’ve never had to handle equipment this big before, and at the angle you’re at you can’t quite make-out how much more of this you’ll have to take.

Elvis though is about as patient as he could be under the circumstances. He’s like steel wrapped in velvet, silky yet unyielding, as he sinks into you like hot butter, until finally his hips meet your ass. His heavy member has found a home in your cunt, and with the patience of a goddamn saint, he waits until your moans and groans aren't so ambiguous, and has the sound of a woman enjoying herself.

You’re low groan when he moves out, turns into a high-pitched shriek when he slams back into you. You sympathized with him when the papers started calling him The Pelvis but now being here underneath him , you can’t think period, let alone think of a more fitting nickname considering how well he’s wielding his to go at a harsh yet tender pace behind you.

In his rutting frenzy, he’s seemingly forgotten his hold on your wrists, but you in turn have abandoned your initial fervor to get away from him. You find yourself pushing backwards, desperate to keep him inside as best you can, frantically rubbing tight little circles on your clit with a single-mindedly chasing release, while you push off your other hand and try to meet his thrusts.

But he hasn’t quite gotten over that sadistic streak of his as he stops mid thrust and holds your waist preventing you from moving any further. You want to cry, you were so close, but the part of you that wants to be good and obey him wins out over the willful side of you, and you bury your forehead into the carpet. And as still as you can manage, you wait with bated breath for his next move.

“I tried bein’ nice ‘bout it, let you come to me,” he whispers in your ear as he moves the collar of your shirt out of the way, kissing the newly exposed skin. “But you gotta be so goddamn stubborn ‘bout everything,'' He hisses and you feel his warm breath waft on the back of your neck, and you know what’s coming next. You’ve dreaded this happening for years, but it’s so much worse than you ever could have imagined, because it’s coming from the last person you expected. You feel his lips curl into a small smile against your skin, and you feel the light scrape of one of his canines against your skin. “But I ain’t about ta have you any other way.” And without wasting another moment, he sinks his teeth into your neck marking you as his until the end of your days.

The sheer amount of pleasure and pain surging through your body makes you feel everything and nothing at all. All that registers really is the euphoric feeling as to where the two of you are joined together -at long last- so you didn’t miss a single moment as you feel the base of his cock start to swell. You're so startled that you try to pathetically crawl away only for him to take a hold of your still sore hips and bring you flush against him, as he seemingly grows and grows within you, well past what you ever thought could have fit up there.

You briefly black out for a moment not so much reaching your peak, but being rocketed to heights beyond what you could have ever imagined. Longer and more intense than you’ve ever been able to achieve, with a partner or otherwise, you’re a shivering pile of flesh, no longer tied to another worldly want other than the man behind you.

His moans are pure ecstasy, his hands undoubtedly leaving bruises on your hips, and his member resting heavy inside of you. Even though, on some level, you know it’s a fool's errand, you nonetheless try to separate yourself from him only to be given a painful reminder why this thing was often described as being “locked in.” You could feel yourself already stretched past your limit, refusing to let go of him, and you hear him groan from the new sensation, as tears flow down your cheeks from the pain.

What’s worse is that when you finally give up and snap back into place do you both shudder at the sensation as he reaches some part deep inside of you. You black out for a moment from going from intense pain to immense pleasure almost immediately can do that to you only to now find yourself on your side with Elvis behind lazily rocking his hips into yours as he leaves blistering kisses where he can and scorching trails everywhere else he could reach.

You’re left with no choice but to stay put and try not to enjoy every roll of his hips against yours, though you stubbornly bite your own lip to prevent yourself from making any noises, approving or otherwise. But this plan quickly falls apart as your mulish defiance of him and his wants are nothing compared to the swift slap on your pussy that causes you to bite down hard on your own lip. Your stupid protruding canine gets your lip, and upon your instinctual cry and release of your lip do you begin to taste the coppery flavor of your own blood. You attempt to hide your face only for him to grab a hold of your jaw, only to lick up the small trail of blood to your chin. You’re way past being able to be shocked by him anymore, and simply choose to relish in this sinful act, with a man who has been trying to clean up his image for the past few months.

If you had to guess, you’re like that for roughly an hour, until finally he’s at a size where you're finally able to remove yourself from him without discomfort, other than the veritable flood that comes gushing out of you without his cock to keep all of it in. Towards the end, he had shifted you so that you were back on your knees, your head resting on your forearms, with your ass in the air and you could only watch mesmerized as a small stream of his milky white seed runs down your thigh only to stop where your knee meets the floor where it proceeds to disappear into the ivory carpet beneath you.

You hear him purr behind you, apparently just as captivated by the show your pussy is giving him. In one swift motion you find yourself on your back and as he follows the path his cum had trailed down your leg, back to its source. You gasp as you feel him dip his fingers back into you and he hooks some of the seed out of your cunt only to use your now open mouth to stick them in there.

It’s almost like a switch goes off in your head with that first real taste of him. You no longer try to fight with yourself, not even choosing to give in really, because with the way you're feeling right now it’s not even really a choice anymore.

“Anything that ain’t goin’ into your pretty pussy is goin’ in that smart mouth a yours, you understand lil’ mama?” he purrs, satisfied as your tongue splits his fingers trying to get every single drop of him you could. “We don’t wanna let any of this go to waste now do we?”

“No,” you cry desperately, truly ashamed as to what you’re becoming. But you have no time for those thoughts as he surprises you by returning back down to your pussy.

“Keep your mouth open,” he orders between your thighs, words slightly muffled as they are against your lower lips. You're confused as to what he’s doing until he gives a light press on your lower belly and his cum gushes out of your poor abused hole and into his waiting mouth. He takes what comes out before he crawls back up to you to get a hold of your jaw, a dangerous look set in his eyes.

You dutifully do as he says and open up. Once that hot, heady flavor of your combined fluids hits your tongue you’re gone, without ego and fully submitting yourself not only to him but the primitive Omega brain that wants nothing more than to be his. You even wrap your arms around his neck to bring his lips to yours, so that the two of you could fully share this obscene cocktail that you both have managed to create.

“Aww baby,” he breathes, his lips brushing against yours. “We wasted so much goddamn time not doin’ this.” In your state of mind you can’t help but agree.

He takes you on just about every available surface of the house, and you truly believe that the only reason he didn’t venture outward was due to how cold it was. If you had the capacity to think beyond seeking your next release you would feel ashamed as to what everybody will undoubtedly smell when they return. But all you could really focus on at any given moment was how good he felt inside you, or tasted on your tongue.

As frantic as he was to keep as much cum inside of you as possible, he also seemed to gain a specific kind of pleasure seeing you drip with his seed and having you swallow it in penance. You can’t get enough of any part of him and he makes good on his promise as to where his cum would go (where it belongs,) and for a solid week you are sustained almost solely on that save for whatever Elvis can scrounge from the kitchen. There’s almost a soft melancholy when you swallow him, as though he’s truly saddened over the lost potential of that particular load, as though he’s not stuffing you full of it seemingly every hour.

But in your haze you were all too happy to take what he could give you, you cunt greedy for all that he can give you.

And it’s underneath him that you learn about Alpha anatomy. Knotting, as you learn it’s officially called, is something Elvis can only do two to three times a day before he has to rest. Doesn’t stop him from trying every single time, nor does it stop him from having you

It becomes easier and easier each time, until you find yourself after each peak desperately grinding on to him, hoping that his knot would make a reappearance and make you feel whole. By the third day you even find yourself falling asleep with it within you, finding the fullness comforting, as though reassuring you that he won’t disappear on you in such a vulnerable state. The few times he’s left the bed you’re left a helpless, writhing mess desperate for him, even when he’s promised you he would be gone only for a few minutes. Part of you thinks he leaves more often than strictly necessary, considering the smug look he gives seeing you so needy for him and practically begging for his cock as you fruitlessly tried to replicate that sense of fullness only he could give.

“Empty,” you mewl, at this point incapable of full sentences.

He’s decided to torture you a bit rubbing the head of his cock on your clit. The hand splayed on your soft stomach prevents you from moving too much, wanting to take his time with you. Your whimpering begging for what you want desperate

“You ain’t ever gonna feel that way again,” he whispers through his kisses along the mark he left. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, ain’t no way you won’t be carryin’ my baby. Ain’t that whatchu want sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you cry desperately, willing to agree to anything, if he would only give you what you wanted, perhaps marking one of the few times he’s won a battle of wills against you.

You’re more animal than woman that week, a slave to her desires, a creature whose sole purpose is to be fucked and have his babies, if Elvis’ whisperings during this time are to be believed. You worry as to whether or not this more primitive side is due to your lack of experience with being in heat or if this is what to expect from every heat going forward. You feel as though someone else has taken the reins to your body and you’re simply meant to enjoy the ride.

Elvis on the other hand stays aware, and he takes care of you throughout it all, making sure you eat enough and drink water, makes sure your lips don’t dry out, licks at your wounds to help speed up the healing process, etc. You’ve never felt so needy, and you’re barely coherent enough to form complete sentences, and so you show your appreciation by being both as vocal and as obedient as possible.

He usually spends recovery periods licking you clean, though not necessarily where you initially thought he would’ve. You can’t help but conclude his love affair with the taste of your blood considering how much time he spends on the small wounds he’s made all over your body.  In his initial eagerness to explore your body in those first few hours, he had “accidentally” nicked you every so often, the sole exception being the twin crescent marks you can feel on your neck and on your ass, which was clearly nothing less than intentional. Though your state and his efforts have significantly sped up the healing process, you know by the end of this you will be left with a constellation of scars.

“This one” he said lightly running his fingers along the marred skin of your neck. “That one’s for the world baby,” he coos, as he gives it a light kiss, making the slap that lands perfectly on top of the mark on your bottom, all the more surprising. “That one’s just for me and you. So you best not forget who that belongs to.”

“Never,” you sigh happily.

It’s almost funny when you think about it, how the world demands a clean-cut, sexless teen heart-throb, as though a majority of them aren’t also beholden to this primitive state of theirs. Looking at him now above you, his teeth sharp and bared, his grunts and groans echoing throughout the house, the bruises and scratches you’ve been able to leave on his torso, even the stubble you’ve felt more than you’ve seen, all paint a very primal portrait of him. He’s something wild, untameable even, someone who isn’t afraid to show how he is beholden to his own desires and instincts as the rest of the world hid from them, and tried to act like they don’t exist.

If it weren’t for the knot you would be hard-pressed to find much of a difference between this Elvis and the standard one.

By the end of your heat, you’re thoroughly exhausted, you don’t even have the energy to be mad at him anymore. You’ve just resolved yourself to your fate that will forever be tied to the boy you once thought you knew. You don’t even have the luxury of knowing whether these thoughts are your own, and not some long suppressed Omega part of you that simply wants to enjoy the way his calloused guitar hands gently rub the soft part of your lower belly.

But if this week has been about satisfying long-standing desires you’re not about to hold back on your desire for knowledge. Specifically how he discovered your secret.

“I wasn’t ‘bout a let you go without a fight baby,” he whispers, comfortable in not needing to hide anything from you anymore, as you’re thoroughly ensnared. “I was cookin’ up some not so nice plans to keep you by me no matter what. Only for a goddamn Christmas miracle to drop into my lap.” he says, allowing you to make your own pace at which to ride him.

“Your daddy sent me a bill in the mail, and I think you know what he was charging you for, dontcha?” he purrs, lazily thumbing at your clit and watching as your breasts bounced in rhythm with your frantic bucking.

“Bein’ the good mate I am, I let him know that you weren’t gon’ need any of that shit no more,” he says, giving a firm slap on your ass seemingly just because he felt like it. “And I some interestin’ things about them pills. You know what stops them pills from workin’ right?” he asks, lazily rutting into you.

“What?”

“You add a lil’ heat,” he growls, and suddenly his obsession with the fireplace these last few days makes perfect sense.

He spoke to you of how he’s been dreaming of this for years, and how he’s known that you were it for him, even when he thought nothing physical could happen between the two of you.

But even as he spoke, there was an ever present air of inevitability when he spoke to you as to how he envisioned your future together as though this was always meant to happen. And it was only a matter of you catching up to him. Afterall you were the one who taught him to ignore what he didn’t want to hear. And he didn’t want to hear no from you.

Taglist

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[sunnasweet]

Anna and The Auction 4

Anna is collared by her new master.

Warnings : Noncon/Reluctance

F!human x M!alien

Part 1 , Part 3 , Part 5

"You’re mine now.”

Those words echo in my head again and again as I lay on the bed, alone. I shiver, scratching at my body. The sticky residue of Lord Gorth gets trapped under my fingernails and I curse.

I think about Gorth’s tentacles inside me, the way he had invaded my body against my will. The way he held me down against the bed and fucked me relentlessly, his big body pressed against my back. 

My pussy throbs at the thought of his suckers inside me and I frown, shaking my head.

I hate that monster, and I will escape him.

~

I thankfully don’t see Lord Gorth for the next 3 days, I don’t know if he’s been seeing me based off the tray of food that’s left on my dresser–not that I have clothes–every morning but someone’s been leaving it.

I’ve had 3 long days locked in this room left to stew and plan. I can’t refuse Gorth. He’s too strong. So my next plan is to go along with what he says and build his trust, then, when an opportunity arises, run like hell.

Luckily for me, it’s those 3 days later when my opportunity presents itself.

That afternoon, Gorth comes into my room without knocking.

“Pet.” He addresses me with a nod and I already have to suppress a scowl. I instinctually want to correct him. To tell him my name is Anna but I doubt that would go well and honestly, I don’t know if I want my name in this freak’s mouth.

“Yes?” 

Lord Gorth looks at me, a thin line for a mouth and he completely stonewalls me. I don’t understand what he’s waiting for until it suddenly occurs to me.

“I mean…yes, err, master?”

He smiles. Approaching me and a tentacle strokes my cheek, “Good pet.” I shudder. “We’re going to the bazaar today.” “Are we still in Neo Nebula…Master?” I ask, unsure if we’ve been traveling or not. There’s no windows in my room. I’ve honestly been going pretty stir-crazy. I’ve had no source of entertainment, just my thoughts for 3 whole days.

“No. We’ve just arrived on Omega Station. You’ll be moved into my res-unit today, but first, we need to get you a few things.” He says gently, still stroking down my body. One of his other tentacles lash out at my nipple and I squirm. The tip twists around my nipple and pulls. I gasp. “But first…” he murmurs. “Perhaps I should give you a treat?”

I avoid his gaze, looking down at the floor instead. His tentacle tilts my chin up.

“Answer me pet, do you think you deserve a treat?”

“I…”

“You…” He purrs, the tentacle wraps around the back of my neck, pulling me forward. “I haven’t gotten to taste your lips yet pet. I should like that…” He leans forward and pulls me towards him. Our lips mean and he immediately swipes his tongue against my lips to invade. 

I shudder. But let him in. I have to do this. I need to be compliant if I’m ever going to gain his trust.

Our tongues tangle and he licks the crevices of my mouth, licking the roof, and behind my teeth. I stand still and just let him do what he wants until he’s done with me. When he pulls back he smiles at me and strokes my cheek. 

“Good girl.” He praises me, I weakly smile. 

“Thank you master…” Trust me please, please, please.

“We’ll get you a few nice collars I think…maybe a leash.” I cringe at that. He’s going to walk me like a fucking dog? If he wasn’t twice my size and I hadn’t tried already–and failed–I’d slap him across the face.

Instead, I bite my lip and keep quiet.

He wraps a tentacle around my wrist and brings me out of the bedroom for the first time in three days, leading me out of the ship and into the bazaar.

~

Walking naked in a bazaar filled with rich people is just about as humiliating as you’d think it is. This is my third time except the last two times it was a seedier crowd. Instead of eye fucking me–though there’s some of that too–it’s mostly looks of pity or even intrigue.

Walking naked in a bazaar filled with rich aliens is just about as humiliating as you’d think it is. At least last time it was a seedier crowd. Instead of eye fucking–though there’s some of that too–it’s mostly looks of haughtiness or intrigue.

The one good thing about Gorth is that he’s keeping me safe from the other aliens, he keeps me by his side as we walk through the bazaar.

The bazaar is filled with all sorts of booths, storefronts and carts but it doesn’t have that familiar smell of exotic spices and perfumes like back on my home station. Everything is…sterile. Overly so. Fancy but boring.

We stop at a store front with a woman behind a glass panel, she dances naked, swishing her hips and running her hands over her boobs. I don’t miss the chain on her ankle or the look of exhaustion in her eye. I realize it’s a pet store…for humans. Gorth drags me in and I lock eyes with the woman, we look at each other in solidarity and pity.

“Welcome!” Says another woman–this one an alien, she’s an insectoid. Her wings buzz happily and she smiles revealing two sharp canines. “We’re currently running a sale! Everything in the shop is 25% off. If there’s anything I can help you with, just let me know!” Her eyes land on me and she gives a small squeal. “Oh what a cute little pet you have! I love the yellow haired ones.” She seems completely indifferent to the fact I’m naked. 

Gorth pulls me into his side and smiles tightly, “Yes…I too like the golden ones.” It’s clear he doesn’t like that the insectoid female touched me but is still trying to be polite. He clears his throat, “I’m looking for collars and leashes.”

“Ah!” She nods, “Right this way, right this way! We have many kinds." She brings us to an aisle of collars, they come in all different collars, some are glittery, some are bedazzled and some are spiked. I notice, behind glass cases and even jewel encrusted.

“And everything is 25% off?” Gorth clarifies and the insectoid female nods with a “yes, yes!” She's so chipper that it makes me sick considering what kind of shop she owns. Gorth looks down at me, “See anything you like, pet?” he murmurs and my eyes widen, I’m surprised that he’s actually giving me a choice.

Since I don’t like any of them, I shake my head. He sighs and nods, inspecting many collars.

“Your wares seem mostly cosmetic, I don’t suppose you have any training collars? Gorth asks the insectoid, “She’s a recent acquisition of mine.” he says, glancing at me. Training collars. What the fuck does that mean?

The insectoid female smiles happily, “Oh of course we do and they’re just as pretty! We can get her fitted right now.”

“Good.”

Gorth takes me by the shoulders and has me sit on a stool, the insectoid female heads off to a particular shelf and comes back with a few colors of collars, most of them are covered in glitter.

“I thought green would go lovely with her eyes, yes?” She says, and I flinch back as she shoves one right up next to my face for Gorth to see. Gorth hums and nods.

“Yes, I think green is a fine option…”

As she straps the collar onto me she speaks quickly to Gorth, “This is our newest training collar, it’s meant to be worn day and night but of course that’s your choice. It has multiple shock settings and varies from a simple pinch to a severe stun!” She twists a key and the lock clicks, when I tug at it, the insectoid giggles.

She hands the remote over to Gorth and he studies it then, presses a button. I flinch as it zaps me, just like a bug bite.

“Ouch.” I scowl.

“Awh sugar did that hurt?” The insectoid asks with a overexagerated pout, I glare at her and she laughs. “Oh you’ve got a feisty one.” I hate this bug-eyed bitch. I hate the way she talks to me like I’m a dog and I hate the fact that she’s the reason that I’m wearing a shock collar right now.

Gorth smiles–a real one, “I do.” he nods. His tentacles stroking my cheek and I feel the instinct to bat it away. He looks to the female. “We’ll take this collar and a matching leash.”

“Excellent!” She buzzes happily and Gorth follows her to the counter while I sit on the stool. I look around the shop but my eyes catch on the girl in the glass cage, the one that seems to be forced to dance to attract buyers. I stand up and walk close to the panel. I tap on the glass and she startles, looking behind herself to see me.

We stare at each other for a moment and I press my hand against the glass, she presses her hand to mine and I find a moment of solace in her gaze.

Then her eyes widen and she stumbles back. I frown, flinching when I feel Gorth’s tentacle on my shoulder. I turn to find him staring down at me. 

“It’s time to go now.”

“Okay…master.”

Gorth leads me out of the shop and back into the bazaar. I watch him pocket the remote and key to my collar. He looks to me and smiles, “I like that collar on you.” he murmurs, “The seller was right, it goes nicely with your eyes.”

“Thanks.” I grumble and he chuckles, wrapping a tentacle around my forearm.

“Let’s go home now pet.”

~

Gorth’s res-unit is huge. 

Sleek and minimalist but huge. His living room is bigger than my entire res-unit back home and the floor is wooden. Not real wood of course but still it’s not the cheap metal plating that they use back on my home station or back in the bazaar.

He’s got holographs on the walls–abstract and the light-fixtures are geometric. 

“Welcome home pet.” He murmurs. Stroking my arm. “Are you hungry?”

I shrug, “I could eat.”

Zap.

I jump and my head snaps to the lord. “What was that for?” I snap.

Zap.

I gasp.

His tentacle wraps around the back of my neck, and suddenly we’re chest to chest. “You say, yes master. I’m sorry master. Not, I could eat. Not, what was that for.” he says calmly. I glower up at him and his tentacles tighten around my neck ever so slightly.

We’re at a standstill until I grit out, “Yes master.”

He smiles, stroking my cheek. “Good girl.”

Then it’s like it never happened and he’s directing me towards the kitchen.

Leading me into the kitchen, he helps me sit on his counter stool which comes up to my waist. Then walks to the food processor, “What would you like to eat?”

“I…” I scratch at my neck, worrying at my lip before saying. “I like those grey meatcubes you’ve been giving me…” 

“Yes?” He says, and nods. “Alright. Koraxian it is then.” I’ve never heard of that animal and it’s probably for the best. Cattle from other planets aren’t nearly as cute as earth animals. Most of them look like they could take one bite out of me and end my life.

Gorth sets a plate of meat cubes in front of me along with a variety of sides and hands me a fork. He sits across from me and we eat in silence. He watches me eat the entire time, never taking his eyes off me, in the light I can see the faintest sheen of his iris that makes it easier to tell where he’s looking now.

I eye him wearily but mostly keep my gaze on my food, pushing it around until he breaks the silence and says, “You need a bath. I expect you to bathe every day.” My eyes snap up to meet his. Now that he brought it up, I do feel kind of nasty. Considering his…fluid is dried all over my body. 

I swallow my meatcube. “Yes..master.” 

“Finish up eating. I will help you.”

~

I sit between Gorth’s tentacles like I would between a human man’s legs, he holds a cloth in one hand and soap in the other. Our position reminds me of the lizard who “prepared” me for auction, two tentacles are wrapped around my ankles, spreading my thighs apart as I docilely sit in Gorth’s embrace.

He’s much more gentle than the lizard male was. Which I appreciate. While he rubs my body down with the cloth, I scrub my greasy scalp with shampoo and Gorth takes a cup and rinses it clean. I put conditioner on my ends.

Once I’m clean, I decide to make a good gesture in bad faith and wash Gorth. He’s surprised when I offer to clean him but he tensely sits still while I soap up my hands then begin to massage it into his chest.

He hums and I mimic the same massage the lizard male gave me back during my preparation. Starting at his shoulders and moving down to his chest, then his belly and waist.

He groans and I lather the soap up and down his tentacles.

“Pet.” he hisses.

“Yes master?” I murmur

He looks into my eyes and I look into his, he grabs my hand, and I watch as his tentacles part. As they do, one unfurls, short and thick–his cock. “Sit on my cock.” It’s thick at the base and thins out to a small wiggling tip, the suckers pulsate.

I look down at it and bite my lip. If I do this will he trust me? I contemplate my options. If I say no, he’s just going to do it anyways but if I say yes…

Maybe I can fool him into believing I want this.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I nod. I sit atop him on my knees, and then lower myself down. Grinding against him so I can get myself wet. His cock wriggles against my pussy and I sigh softly.

“That’s it…” he croons, “Be a good girl and sit on my cock. Take it.”

Well…when in rome.

“Yes master.” I whisper.

Lowering myself onto him further, he’s so thin I barely feel the beginning of him enter me but when I get further down to the girth, I whimper, burying my face into his neck. His tentacles, wrap around me, holding me closer to his chest.

I sink down onto him, rolling my hips with a moan and Gorth hisses.

“That’s it pet.” he groans, his bulging belly rubbing up against my flatter one.“Juust like thaat.” I hump up and down Gorth, his cock wriggling inside and tickling just up against my g-spot.

“Mm~” I whimper, my forehead pressing against the side of his neck. 

His limbs squeeze me up against him, suckers kissing my skin. A tentacle wraps around the back of my neck, pulling me to his mouth and I oblige, opening my mouth to his expectant tongue.

A tentacle wraps around my waist and he begins to aid me in moving up and down on him, he’s strong enough to force me up and down on his cock. He pulled me halfway up just to slam me down against him quickly.

“Unf~!

Gorth’s tentacles wrapped around my torso, taking my breasts and squeezing them, the tips of his tentacles wriggling against the tips of my nipples and I gasp.

Heat builds in my belly, a tensing in my core and I move faster. Up and down, up and down. I wrap my arms around his shoulders tighter and the tentacle around my neck squeezes. Gorth groans, his tongue still licking in my mouth, he pulls back and licks up my jaw, his long slithering tongue tasting my skin. He groans, and his suckers begin to pulsate inside of me. 

I spasm, moaning out loud. My back arches and I dig my nails into Groth’s back.

“Yes!” He hisses and a tentacle whips me on the ass causing me to yelp. His suckers soothe my skin, nipping and lubricating. “Oh creator I’m going to cum.” he growls. His cock expands inside me.

I move faster, chasing after my own release. Up and down, up and down, his tentacle scrubs the inside of my walls, sucker sucking my g-spot. I choke out a sob.

Close, close, close.

It builds and builds, and then…snaps.

I whine, my back bowing and hips snapping. Gorth whips my ass a second time and I squeal, a gush of liquid escaping me. Not as much as yesterday, but enough fluid to coat my inner thighs.

Gorth expands inside me, doubling in girth, he groans. His hips meeting up with mine, tentacles wrapping around my waist and my eyes widen when one prods at my puckered hole.

“W-wait!” I whine, but he doesn’t. Instead he surges forward and I screech. Too quickly he thrusts into my ass. The only thing that saves me from pain is the natural lubrication that oozes from his suckers. “Ahgn~!”

I thrash in his arms but he holds me down.

This freak invades my asshole like he did the last time and it feels amazing. I hate it.

I hate it. I hate. I hate–

My eyes bulge, and my body seizes, a second orgasm bursting through me. I shriek. Seizing and my ass clenches on the tentacle inside it while my pussy pulses around his cock. He groans, then, I feel a surge of liquid burst inside me.

I slump against Gorth and he clutches me to his body, hoarsely whispering in my ear soothing praises. Telling me how “fucking amazing” I feel.

Gorth cradles my body, picking us up out of the tub and bringing me into a bedroom–my bedroom I think, until he lays beside me. Pulling me against him, he sits me up for a moment, collaring me, a tentacle deftly twisting the key to my lock–the key that I need if I’m going to get out of here. He places it on the night table beside us and I think my plan will be easier than I think. 

Once he falls asleep…That key is mine.

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[bb-kawa]

Kiss Cam <3

Crossing posting from my ao3 since i think ppl will like this fic. a03 link if you prefer reading there.

What will Falena do when Leona seems to be hiding the  fact that he has a girlfriend? Rig a magical kiss cam to publicly  embarrass the two, of course.

f/n = first name, third person

Did I steal this prompt from sporting events kiss cams and make it more dramatic? yes.

anyways Falena is hilarious in this.

side  note: I interpret twisted wonderland as being an actual University  where magical men and women attend. I don't think that matters for the  specific fic though. reader can still be interpreted as being yuu.

Falena was annoyed. Irked. Displeased. Leona had finally, finally, brought home a love interest, or at least that’s what Falena thought she was; However, Leona refused to admit or even discuss the possibility that she was his girlfriend.

It was the Festival of Love after all in Afterglow Savanna, a three-day event that celebrated all types of love within the kingdom. Why else would Leona have brought home a girl if not to celebrate with her, but Leona didn’t specify if she was his girlfriend or not upon introduction. Furthermore, when Falena prodded Leona for answers, he basically told him to shove off and leave him alone.

When Falena tried to investigate, follow them around, and send spies after them, they always coincidentally appeared to be just platonic friends. A woman holding a man's arm could still be considered friends after all. That wasn’t a big enough clue either way. And when Falena had finally thought he was going to catch them sneakily kissing in a dimly lit hallway, they’d always be conveniently separated from each other.

However, Falena could smell them on each other. Her light perfume blended into Leona’s skin and when she passed by, Falena could clearly smell the earthy scent of Leona’s hair products. They must have been coming into at least close to close contact to justify smelling like each other!

There were other times too, that were as plain as day, that the two were so obviously in love. Leona would laugh with her. Falena could hear their snickers and teasing during various festival activities. Leona rarely laughed as much as he did with her. He looked at her with a sort of happiness Falena hadn’t seen since Leona was a child. Leona would also talk to her, speaking far more than he had the past four years since going to NRC and starting his work as a Prince of the Afterglow Savanna. Falena could barely get Leona to say more than a sentence to him sometimes, but here he was having these long-winded conversations with her.

So why was Leona hiding it? Was he ashamed of her? No that couldn’t be it. Leona would not have brought her otherwise. Was it because he knew it would annoy the entire family if he was as vague as possible about it? That was a possibility but seemed to be a bit of a stretch. They had apparently known each other since NRC but Leona hadn’t thought to bring her around until now? How could Leona decide to enlighten his family with a girl and then proceed to not introduce her as his girlfriend?

Furthermore, every time Falena tried to get the girl alone for a quick chat, Leona would somehow always swoop in like a knight in shining armor here to sweep his obvious lover away from revealing any sort of truth to the matter. Leona always pulled her away with a groan of ‘Don’t annoy F/n with your questions.’ Really, how could Leona consistently be so grumpy about it?

It really was starting to get to Falena. He was determined to find out the truth and the perfect opportunity to do so was going to occur later that evening. A special event was planned called ‘The eye of love.’ It was a yearly activity where a magical camera would pan the crowds showing couples that exhibited a blossoming love. It was an ancient spell mainly used for fun to embarrass couples and had been a main part of the festivities for centuries.

Falena politely, strong armed the yearly caster into making sure, no matter what, the camera would focus in on Leona and his friend. Was this perhaps a bit petty? Yes. Was this also a small invasion of privacy? Also yes. Falena was determined though, to thoroughly ignore his brother's reluctant feelings to find out the truth.

Why, one may ask, was Falena so determined to find out whether Leona had a girlfriend or not? The answer was simple, Falena wanted to make sure the one person that seemed to make Leona happy would be welcomed into the family. Instead, Leona had been corralling the girl away at any possible moment. Two could play this game. Leona wasn’t the only one that could play dirty.

Soon, the roar of the crowd killed Falena’s train of thought concerning his brother. He walked out onto the stage waving, sending out well wishes and hopeful phrases. The general announcements occurred as well as the small speech about hope and encouragement for the love season. Normally Falena wasn’t so impatient during this part, but he really wanted the excitement to start.

Finally, the magical camera, naked to the eye, zoomed around homing in on various couples of various ages. It was quite cute. The first couple to be shown was an elderly pair that seemed to finally admit their love for one another. The next two couples were younger, around mid-age, and were showered with the traditional flower petals for the event during their kiss.

Falena could barely contain his excitement as Leona’s face appeared on the magical screen. The crowd instantly recognized the second prince with a slight cheer. Excitement was strumming through the air. Falena’s smile slightly dropped though, when it appeared that Leona wasn’t at the event at all, but seemed to be walking in some sort of foliage area with F/n.

————-

“If you get in trouble for missing the eye of love event, I’m not gonna defend you.” F/n said. A smile appeared on her face as Leona helped her step off the rocky ledge.

“What do you mean? You’re my accomplice, you’re breaking the rules with me.” Leona responded as he looked back with a smug grin.

“That’s not what I’ll be telling King Falena.”

F/n didn’t have to be looking at Leona to know he was rolling his eyes as she trotted up behind him.

They had been walking for a good thirty minutes. Winding through a rocky path, up various hills. Honestly if F/n knew Leona was going to take her on a full blow hike she would have worn different shoes.

The path soon widened and appeared a large opening filled to the brim with green foliage and blooming flowers. There was a small opening to the left that looked over the grasslands. The sun was just about to set, yellow and orange hues filled the sky.

“Wow… it’s beautiful!” F/n said, running up to the opening admiring the view and the flowers. An excited smile graced her features. “This is what you wanted to show me? How romantic.”

“Always gotta get a tease in, huh.” Leona shuffled back and forth on his feet. He took a few steps towards her, grabbing her hands. His features softened and a slight anxiety bubbled in his chest. “F/n, I… wanted to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“Actually, I wanted to give you something.” Leona said, reaching into his clothes to pull out a small box. He flipped the lid up revealing a red jewel hanging delicately on a golden chain. F/n's eyes widened, and she glanced back and forth from the box up to Leona’s eyes.

“This… this is for me.” F/n asked. She was shocked, while Leona often gave her gifts, they were usually just things F/n had recently said she wanted. While it was incredibly thoughtful of him to always indulge her whims, his normal gifts weren’t as elaborate. They were flowers, or a blanket for them to share during naps, not an incredibly expensive looking necklace.

“In my culture, giving a gift like this is… 2nd to a marriage proposal. It’s a declaration of intention. An intention to love forever.” Leona explained, bringing a hand up to F/n’s cheek. Leona was a bit scared, nervous to ask this. He had never met someone as wonderful as F/n. While he didn’t think she’d say no, there was a possibility she would maybe not prefer this life with him. “If you accept this, it also means you… feel the same.”

F/n smiled; a nervous feeling fluttered through her. She couldn’t believe it. Leona and her had been serious for a while. While she knew he took their relationship seriously and she did find the whole ‘annoy Falena as much as possible’ schtick funny, this wasn’t what she was expecting.

“Leona… are you sure? I’m… not royalty and well… I don’t want you to be put in a bad position because of it. You care for your kingdom, and I just want to make sure you’re always happy.” F/n responded. She really was worried. She loved Leona and didn’t want to make his life more stressful. What if the kingdom didn’t accept her? What if he regretted it?

“Tch, what happened to that lecture you gave me the other day, huh?” Leona asked with another roll of his eyes. He handed her the box as he wrapped his arms around her. “You told me the world was full of possibilities and that there was always hope. You’re not gonna fight for me now after saying all that?”

F/n laughed, her body shaking in Leona’s arms. He always had to be so cheeky.

“Well that doesn’t count. Don’t use my words against me.” F/n responded, leaning in closer. She could see Leona’s eyes soften. Who was she kidding? She would do anything for him, even if it led to tough times. “You promise to take care of me every day?”

“Of course.”

“Alright then Leona Kingscholar, I accept your love.”

She saw a smile appear on his face, the brightness behind his eyes gleamed, as she leaned up to give him a kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he squeezed her tighter. Leona kissed her back passionately. A laugh bubbled out of her as Leona slightly raised her body off the floor spinning her around.

“Perfect, my love”

——

The camera cut out. Falena could hear the deafening silence as the crowd, as well as himself, processed what they had just seen. It took about three seconds before cheers broke out. The silence turned to rancorous chants and screams. Flowers were thrown up into the air as music started to ring out.

The crowd seemed to fully support Prince Leona’s plight for love if the chanting of his name was anything to go by. Falena was quite happy as well. Now he could finally get to work and plan a wedding. As well as devising a separate plan to make sure Leona didn’t kill him after finding out the entirety of Afterglow Savanna witnessed his love confession. Perhaps Falena should go on an extended trip to a neighboring kingdom to avoid Leona’s wrath.

Well, it’s not like Leona would find out that Falena was the one to order that the magical camera be rigged. It was just a very very unfortunate coincidence. Well, Falena would find a solution soon enough. Perhaps Leona would be so enraptured with his newfound love he’d be too busy to plot murder. Falena was content to enjoy the festivities for now, maybe he’d get lucky, and Leona would never know.

The luck of the draw always fell towards the king after all.

I hope you liked it! reblogs appreciated.

[viburnt]

Maybe helping puppy hybrid dabi and Shigaraki (seperately ) with their heat for fem reader?

Doberman! Dabi + Heat

Heats for Dabi aren´t the most frequent. It only happens once a year, and it isn´t much of a hassle to deal with it. When it occurs, his behavior doesn´t change at all, remaining the laidback cocky bastard he´s always been. Of course, his sensitivity spikes; he still needs some alone time to relieve some of that energy. 

He usually locks himself in the bathroom and bites his shirt to avoid getting too noisy while jerking off. It doesn´t take him long until he´s shooting blanks, emptying all that primal desire into his hand as his breath hitches.

Things changed when you appeared whatsoever, his heat becoming problematic whenever you were close by. If he could handle himself in the past, he is a lost case when he smells your scent in the room. He becomes pushy, grinding his crotch against you at any given chance. It doesn´t matter to him if he is in public or private, he´ll make sure to let you know he wants you. 

Dabi´s heats with you amplify his sly and smug behavior, making innuendos here and there to gauge a reaction from you. He hates himself for being so insistent, but he wants you to give in to his debauchery and let him breed you once and for all. You often have to scold him for being such a bad dog, but the warmth coming from your sex often betrayed you. You liked that, and Dabi knew it perfectly.

When you finally agree to help him with his heat, Touya loses no time. He doesn't even undress you fully, he just removes your bottoms and tugs your panties aside. Needless to say, he is inexperienced as fuck, but his confidence was too much for you to notice. His go-to position is doggy style (no pun intended), where he can pull your hair and watch your ass bounce with each thrust.

Dabi says the nastiest things when he is lost in pleasure, the animalistic side of him taking over as fat hot tears roll down your cheeks when he bullies your cunt. "What a good bitch! Ah, fuck- Taking my cock so well, gonna fill you until it´s dripping out of you." He feels a little embarrassed when you remind him of his words, but he is not sorry about saying it.

Safety is something that needs to be talked out with him during his heats. No, I´m not talking about being on the pill or using a condom, I´m talking about literal dog safety. During his heats, Touya can get a little too enthusiastic; he tends to bite and scratch, leaving red marks on your skin that sometimes take a while to disappear. It´s not intentional (although he is a little proud of them), so he allows you to either put a leash on him (to tug whenever he is getting too aggressive) or a muzzle (to prevent unwanted bitemarks).

Gets very clingy after he is done pumping your cunt full of his seed, not letting go of you and making sure you´re ok. You´re his little lady after all, and one day you´ll be the mother of his puppies (or at least that´s what´s in his plans), so he rubs ointments on the places he hurt you and cuddles you a lot.

"Sorry, was I too rough?" Dabi asked, kissing the skin of your shoulder as he held you close. For the past hour, he´d been fucking you senseless on your bed, face buried against the mattress as he bullied your cunt. Rough would be an understatement, but you guessed it was your fault considering you never pulled the leash. "It´s f-fine, I promise," you assured him with hitched breaths, "I just need a moment." Dabi shook his head, engulfing your body in the warmth of his. "Let´s take a break for now, we can continue later..."

Rottweiler! Shigaraki + Heat

Heats for Shigaraki are a little more frequent than Dabi´s, occurring from one to two times a year. They normally happen during spring and fall, lasting about two or three days. His behavior is the worst out of all the puppy boys in L.O.V., growing aggressive towards anyone who tries to interact with you. He rubs himself against you and refuses to let go of you even if it is to have some privacy. "I´m just keeping an eye on you, that´s all!"

Before you, he´d take care of his ruts by locking himself in his room and getting distracted with video games. It felt embarrassing for him to try to jerk off, even if his body was aching to. Sometimes, when things were too overwhelming for him, he´d take out his anger/frustration with the people around him; heats amplify his mood swings, and he can get very destructive if he doesn´t have the correct enrichment to deal with it.

With you, his heats are more focused on the attention you give him. It´s embarrassing and humiliating for him to be so clingy and touchy with you, especially when his brain screams to be smothered by you; he´s afraid that you may think of him as a pervert or a loser.

He gets very whiny when he can´t get what he wants, messing with your stuff in retaliation. Tomura doesn´t mean to be that bratty, but he acts on impulse during his heats. You need to scold him from time to time, otherwise he´ll get too bold.

Tomura is a pillow humper during heats. He rams himself into the cool pillowcase of his pillow while taking a whiff of any piece of your clothing available. He tries to imagine it´s you who he is breeding, but as his left hand tries to steady his cushioned companion, his body can´t be fooled. He thinks he´d die on the spot if you were to ever catch him doing something like that.

When you agree to help him out, Tomura gets very shy. It´s almost cute to see his pale skin turn into a deep red hue. His favorite position to do it is mating press, holding your legs up to your head with carefully gloved hands to avoid hurting you. There´s something about your facial expressions and the way your tits bounce that make him go feral. You also are allowed to only "help him" if you don´t feel like getting stuffed. He is very compliant when it comes to you, so if you tell him to sit between your legs and rest his back against your chest while you jerk him off, he does! 

A curious thing about him is that he doesn´t take the spiked collar of his neck off. Why? Who knows, but it´s cute to see his fucked out face while wearing it. Oh, he also has a thing for instructions, so if you´re feeling lazy, you can just talk him through his orgasm while he humps his favorite pillow in front of you. Quite the view!

"Come on, Shiggy, you can do it." You purred. Tomura was carefully seated between your legs, hands on your thighs to steady himself a little as you dragged the pads of your fingers to the tip of his cock. "P-please, don´t make this more embarrassing than it is!" he whined, hissing at the way you massaged and pressed his glans. "I just want you to feel good, puppy. Want my baby to cum." You mumbled, kissing his ear in an oh-so-sweet way that made him jolt. After a few more pumps, he became undone, shooting translucent hot ropes of cum into your hand and dripping onto his sheets. "Ah, such a mess. We can´t leave it like this, can we? Let me clean it for you." You offered, licking off the slick of your hand, sending shivers down Shigaraki´s spine. "I hate you so much..." He stuttered, but he knew it was a lie; he´d be begging you to do it all over again after a few hours.

[wingsoverlagos]

Lewisohn's Little Mysteries

I should be posting the next piece dissecting the Mark Lewisohn/Kim Bennett/Parlophone contract saga--it's in the works, I promise! @mythserene and I are typing and scheming and typing some more--but most of my time has been put towards checking a zillion citations, and I wanted to share a little something before my next proper piece. The zillion-checked-citations will hopefully be available in some form soon; enjoy this as a snack to hold you over 'til dinner.

As we know, Mark Lewisohn likes to bust a myth, tear down our preconceived notions, and shed light into the murky corners of Beatles history (source: Mark Lewisohn.) But there's another pattern I've noticed while checking his citations: he likes to inject a little ambiguity every now and then where perfect clarity is possible.

I've run across a few cases of this--I'll try to dig those out and add them later--but I was struck by this example from The Best of Fellas (2002), Spencer Leigh's biography of Bob Wooler. Lewisohn sets up a little mystery, writes that there's something we simply don't know--all the while, the source is perfectly clear.

Tune In 18-46 vs. Leigh 2002 p.147

This section discusses the Beatles' plans to not pay Allan Williams a percentage for their second string of gigs in Hamburg. From Tune In:

Paul tells Bob Wooler they won't be paying Allan Williams commission; Paul adds that he suspects Wooler will tell Williams, as the two are friends. Wooler agrees--yep, he's going to tell Williams. Then Lewisohn introduces his petite paranthetical mystery: "(It isn't clear if or when Wooler did, however.)"

Now, from The Best of Fellas (this, like much of the book, is told through a quote by Bob Wooler himself):

To quote Wooler, "I did tell Allan and he was fuming about this." If you're struggling with the subtlety and intricacy of this quote (hi, Mark!), I'll reiterate the key phrase: "I did tell Allan." Sure, he doesn't give an exact date or anything, but from the general context, we can assume it occurred around the same time.

Why? Why does he do this? He had to actively write out that it "wasn't clear" if Bob told Allan about the Beatles' financial scheme. It would have been simpler (and more correct) to not write that. This is very strange behavior! Though I have a better understanding of Lewisohn than when I started, I still don't get why he does things like this--why introduce this ambiguity to the record when the answer is in your source, in the very same paragraph?

Also strange: that bracketed "to me" at the start of the quote. “Paul said [to me], ‘I suppose you’re going to tell your mate…’” Using brackets to clarify ambiguity in a quote is fine, but where is the ambiguity here? If someone says, “Paul said, ‘You’re going to…’” it is understood that Paul is talking to the speaker. Lewisohn even says, in the sentence before the quote, “Bob Wooler later related how Paul told him that…” There isn’t a shred of ambiguity here. Don’t amend a quote if you don’t have to! Let the words speak for themselves!

Sources:

Leigh S. 2002. The Best Of Fellas: The Story of Bob Wooler, Liverpool’s First D.J. Liverpool: Drivegreen Publications Ltd. 264p. Accessed online 2024 Apr 23. Available from: https://archive.org/details/bestoffellasstor0000leig/mode/2up

Lewisohn M. 2013. The Beatles: All These Years Vol. 1: Tune In. New York (NY): Crown Archetype. [ebook]

[harrytheehottie]

ALWAYS & FOREVER: A HARRY STYLES ONE SHOT

A/N: This is a part of The Sweet & Spicy Fic Challenge 💘 shoutout to @harry-on-broadway @hslllot & @harrysblackcoat for all the inspo.

rated: m 💘 word count: 3.3k 💘 masterlist 💘 tell me your thoughts 💘

You met on a night out. It was classic, really, your friends begged you to go out and after much negotiation and begging you said yes. And that was the night you met the love of your life.

Although, the two of you remember the story differently. You swear he approached you and so do all of your friends but he stands firm in his theory that you were constantly making eyes at him and he had no choice but to see what you were on about. And his story still proves yours right because he was the first person to walk over to you. 

You flirted, danced and had way too many shots. You quickly found out that night that he was affectionate and touchy after a free drink. His body clinging onto yours and telling you just how cool he thought you were, you teased him for months about it asking if that was his signature chat up line. He swears it wasn’t. 

You went on a few dates most of them occurred during the day time, a walk around the park when you were on lunch, a 4pm coffee on the days you’d leave the office early. You never ran out of things to talk about he’d let you listen to demos but only through shared airpods and pinky promises that you wouldn’t tell anyone, not even your closest friends. You’d tell him about your work drama and he’d always tell you where you were on the right, even if you knew you weren’t. 

It wasn’t easy, you had to navigate his demanding career and merge your lives. You dreaded the months away and savored those moments on the side stage when he’d look over just before he walked to the microphone and you’d cheer him on like it was your first time. The moments you had with just the two of you - no cameras, no second guessing where you should stand or look, just you and Harry the way it was always meant to be. 

He asked you to marry him on a walk through the Heath. He spent the entire walk fiddling with his jacket pocket and talking about how much he loves you and what your relationship meant to him. He just came back from another row of sold out shows and had a preselected two weeks off before he was on the road again. You thought he was just being his sappy self until he stopped walking and got down on one knee and asked you to marry him. 

You cried and cried and said yes and cried some more. You spent those two weeks wrapped around each other and definitely broke the world record for how many times two people can say ‘fiance’. You had your ceremony six months later — you didn’t need to waste time planning. It was in Harry’s mom’s backyard, an intimate ceremony with all your friends and family. 

A month after you got back from your honeymoon you realized you missed your period. You thought there was no way it could’ve happened that quickly — you’d only been off the pill for a few months. You went upstairs and took one of your tests you knew you had in the bathroom. Harry was on one of his morning swims and you knew you had a limited window of time before he came back. You took the test and waited patiently as you waited for the longest two minutes of your life to pass by. 

There it was. 

Pregnant. 

You were overwhelmed with joy, doubts, anxieties. The next two years of you and Harry’s life had been planned for you already; tours, albums, award shows, photoshoots. And now, you are going to have to plan a baby around it. You wanted this more than anything but you were in pure disbelief that it was real. And after what felt like an hour of double checking that you weren’t reading the results wrong and rummaging through the downstairs drawers to find a second and third pregnancy test. 

You dreamed of this moment, starting a family with the love of your life. It felt so far away for so long, right before you met Harry you were certain it would never happen the way you imagined. And here you were at this moment, married to the best man you knew and about to start a family. 

You were going to throw up. 

You let yourself take the moment in, checking your phone to make sure that Harry wasn’t on his way back yet. You took the first pregnancy test and washed it before heading down to your storage room. 

One of your first trips after your engagement was in New York City. It was one of your favorite places to go with Harry because of the connection he had to the city and the friends he introduced you to along the way. It was also one of the few places that you and Harry could walk around and blend in. You were in one of those cute knick knacks shops in the Lower East Side just browsing when Harry picked up a baby onesies that had a taxi embroidered on the front with ‘NYC’ in black underneath it. 

“Do you have something to tell me?” You asked when you noticed him picking it up and putting it down. 

Harry laughed, “No, just think” he paused thinking through his words before speaking again, “would it be nice to get a present as a way of manifesting?” 

“You want a baby with me?” You teased knowing that it was something you discussed at length, many times. Your mutual desire for children when it felt right. And the fact that it was something that was already on his mind confirming that you made the right decision. 

“I always knew you were the one. Just had to work extra hard and make you realize the same for me.” Harry closed the space between you, stealing a quick kiss on the lips before grabbing the onesies and heading towards the checkout counter.

“Oh, so I was right - you were the one that approached me that night.” You said as you followed quickly behind him. He smiled big, the kind that always made you melt, where you could see all his teeth and his eyes crinkled up and his lips disappeared.

“Touche.” he replied with a wink. 

You found the onesies in your storage and quickly ran around trying to find a gift box to present it in. You checked the time, it had been an hour and a half since Harry left for swimming meaning he would be home anytime soon. You found a box, placed the onesie in it and on top of that the positive pregnancy test. 

You were buzzing with excitement and nerves waiting for him to walk through the door. You paced all around the house trying to take your mind off it and when you heard the ring of the security system letting you know someone had just put in the code and saw Harry in his hoodie and sweatpants make their way to the front door you were filled with nerves. 

You knew he would be excited and overjoyed but you knew once he knew, your lives would truly be changed forever. He walked through the front door greeting you with a hug and a kiss. You tried to make small talk, and asked him how his swim was. 

“Somethings wrong,” Harry immediately picked up on your weird nervous energy “you seem.. off.” He said examining you from head to toe as you stood in front of him. He knew you too well. 

“I got you a gift and was just waiting for the perfect time to give it to you” you nervously said walking over to the box that you left on the kitchen table. You wanted to keep the memory of this moment forever, the moments before you knew his life would truly change forever. It wasn’t album sales, music awards, accolades that you thought would be the best moments of his life but this one would truly. 

You handed him the box. He looked up at you, the same face he made in that pub way back when. His brows quirked up in wonder, his forest green eyes meeting yours, his mouth melting into up in a soft smile. You watched closely as he slowly opened the box, his hands were ring free, minus the wedding band - you still got butterflies looking at.

His eyes scanned the materials inside once, twice , and three times over. You watched as he studied the items slowly raising his head to look up at you, “What? Is this real?” He spoke, you could see the tears forming in his eyes.

You nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, took three tests to prove it.” 

You closed the gap between the two of you, your lips crashing into one another the love you had moving through your bodies. You wanted to be as close to him as possible. Harry moved his hands from your back to your legs and hoisted you up on the kitchen island. His mouth moving from your lips down to your neck to your collarbones. He moved back and lifted up your shirt. 

You watched as Harry began kissing your stomach whispering lowly, “Our baby is in there.” as he left kiss after kiss after kiss. You wanted to wrap this moment up and keep it forever. The two of you, the only ones in the world that knew you were expecting and going into this new season of life together. 

You told your families first. Buying every ‘Worlds Best Grandma’ and ‘World Best Aunt and Uncle’ shirt you could find. Everyone’s excitement for the two of you makes everything more real. You were most nervous for Harry to tell Jeff -- he was his best friend but also his manager and you knew the second he told him after the excitement and celebration, you’d have to be looped into conversations about how or what Harry was willing to share.

“I told him that I didn’t want to tell anyone that doesn’t have to know. No exclusives, no confirming or denying stories. I don’t want anyone involved in this that doesn’t have to be.”

“Do you think it would be easier if it was on our terms?” You asked, “Rather than a rumor that gets reported on by others?” 

“No. It’s ours.” Harry’s was speaking fast and direct something he did when he was serious, “I’ve shared so much of my life when I didn’t want to, I shared you for fuck’s sake. I don’t want to share this -- I don’t want anyone in this that doesn’t have to be.”

You were two years into your relationship before people online began to catch on. You blended into his crew of people. It wasn’t until a picture of you at his family Christmas made its way online - a phone call from Jeff made the two of you aware. Harry remained calm letting Jeff know that he still didn’t want your name anywhere but if any media outlets reached out just to say he was happy. It didn’t stop anyone from digging and finding out as much as they could about you but it didn’t matter because both Harry and you knew that this was it. 

Harry held your hands in his, “I’ll protect you,” you looked at your belly and then back up at you, “and you with everything I can. I love you so much and just want to keep this to us. We can let the people talk and speculate and wonder but it’s our family and our story to tell. I wish I didn’t have to deal with all of these logistics but”

You cut him off, “Harry, I love you baby and I understand. The way you go above and beyond to protect everyone around you doesn't go unnoticed. This is the one thing that we can keep as ours.” 

And you did. You lived your life as normal, went to his shows and supported him through his career concealing your bump through skirts and dresses. Your pregnancy went by quickly, one day you were barely showing and the next you were already planning your baby shower and then you were in the hospital in labor with Harry by your side and after 16 hours of labor your bundle of joy was in your arms. 

You never felt love like that before. It was indescribable holding the human that you helped create, learning how to breastfeed, change diapers and navigate this new chapter in your lives. Watching Harry as he stayed up late reading and researching on all the milestones that you should be looking out for. You’d catch him singing ‘Isn’t She Lovely’ as a way to make her fall asleep and it always melted you 

Your life was built on routine. 

You wake up at the same time everyday to give yourself some uninterrupted time in the morning. You brush your teeth, do your skincare before heading downstairs to get the day started. You clean up the kitchen and tidy up the living room but mostly, your favorite part of your morning was your cup of coffee. You make the same cup of black coffee, almond milk and two sugars and leisurely scroll through your phone basking in the silence and solitude that you felt in the early morning hours before being interrupted by anyone else. 

Some days you’d have longer mornings than others but when you’d hear your monitor begin making sounds you make your way back upstairs to your nursery. 

Motherhood was something you always wanted for yourself but there came a point in time where you weren’t sure it would happen in the traditional sense. Relationships were tough and you had your fair share of negative experiences. It would always be good at first, the honeymoon stage clouding all of your judgments until it was a year and a half in and you realized you were hitting a wall. You got to the point where you were content with continuing life without a partner - looking back, it’s funny that the moments where you’re giving up is when the right people come into your life. 

Today was different. 

You woke up to the sounds of Harry in the kitchen. He was singing along to his playlist as he made you breakfast. Your daughter was a little older now and was spending the night at your mom’s house so you and Harry could have uninterrupted time together. It was few and far between these days with work schedules, daycare and playdates. Harry was currently working on his next studio album and moved all production to be closer to your family so he would no longer need to be traveling back and forth from the US to London. 

“No, no, no, you were supposed to stay upstairs I had it all planned out,” Harry was playfully shouting as you made your way down the steps and into the kitchen. He was wearing a matching set of pajamas. The top was completely unbuttoned; the butterfly on his chest still had a market left on it from when your daughter was using him as her personal coloring book. 

He had everything laid out on the table; eggs, hash browns, waffles and was currently putting together a fruit bowl to finish it off. 

“You didn’t have to do all of this for me?” You said as you walked over and gave him a kiss.

He stopped what he was doing and pulled you in closer for me, “S’why I’m doing it,” he met your lips one more time before whispering “for you.” 

Your mouths clashing again as you melted into each other slowly taking your time, there was no toddler that you had to worry about walking in or waking up, it was just the two of you. You moved your hands up his chest and pulled the rest of his pajamas top off making what you wanted known. He quickly followed your lead helping you out of your pajamas of choice, one of his old touring shirts.

“The food is going to get cold,” Harry mumbled between kisses as your hands moved down the waist of his pants to get them off of him fast.

“Don’t care, need this” You began kissing up his neck licking and sucking the spots that you knew drove him crazy, down his jawline and below his ears. 

His hands were moving from your breasts to where you wanted him most. You were always ready for him after years of being together he still turned you on like it was the first time. “S’fuckin wet for me,” he whispered under his breath the anticipation sending goosebumps through your entire body. Harry used his finger to start moving circles around your clit. You had your hands squeezing at Harry’s shoulders before taking your own right hand to stroke his dick through his pants. You felt like two teenagers that were feeling, touching, exploring as much of each other as you could with some of your clothes still on. 

The fire inside you was ignited when Harry dipped his finger into your center, arching up and hitting you immediately where you needed him most. Slowly a second and third followed and your moans filled the kitchen as the sweet sounds of his playlist, “Harry,” you moaned encouraging him to keep going as you haphazardly tried to please him as well. He pauses for a second, fingers still deep inside you and says, “S About you now, don’t worry about me, just want to make you feel good” his voice deep and low giving you the permission to enjoy yourself for once before worrying about others around you first. You kissed him again as he continued to pump his fingers instead of you, your hips begin matching his movements and you can feel yourself getting the heat inside you intensifying as you squeeze your eyes shut. You felt like your body was on fire as the sweet sounds of his fingers against you and the playlist he loves the most and his whispers in encouragement brought you to an orgasm. 

You slowly began to catch your breath and watched as Harry put all three fingers in his mouth, one by one, tasting every bit of you, a dopey grin on his face whispering “Never gets old,” as he closed the space between you. 

You spent the rest of your day like that eating and having sex and wrapping yourself in each other as much as you could. You were grateful for your life and your husband who always put you and your family first. 

And when you got into bed that night, Harry asked you for permission to do something he never did before. You thought long and hard about it and you felt like it was the right moment. You watched as he scrolled through his camera roll trying to find the best image before landing on one you took. It was of him and your daughter at your favorite overlook in Malibu. It was a place you spent a lot of your time with your family allowing for the privacy that Los Angeles proper didn’t. You remember that afternoon clearly, she was tired and cranky but you had just got there for the sunset and Harry had her asleep on his shoulder in minutes. You snapped a photo as the blue sky was slowly turning orange. 

Harry looked over his shoulder at you before hitting ‘post’ you gave him a nod just as he hit it. A picture of Harry and your daughter with the caption “Isn’t she lovely, made from love.” 

Now, the whole world knew and it was on your terms. 

[tomionefinds]

Hi, do you have any fics where hermione travels to the past and they meet and establish a relationship but then when she’s thrown forward to her time again she ends up meeting him as Voldemort??

Hey Anon,

We had an ask like this a while ago, and also another in our ask box. Gonna copy/pasta our answers and add a few more I thought of since then. -JD

Building a Mystery by StBridgit M | Complete | 256k Avoidance of death provides a powerful impetus for Lord Voldemort to use more than one method to stay alive. If the Horcruxes were not his final play, what would happen? Would it be worth the price he will pay? Hermione finds herself out of place and out of time. What will she do when there is nowhere to run? A Tomione pairing that morphs into LV/Hermione. Reviews welcome!

A Big Ball of Wibbly-Wobbly by Colubrina M | Complete | 27k The war is over, the good guys have won, and Hermione Granger goes to sleep in her lovely flat only to wake up in 1953 in the bed of someone she’d really much rather were dead. “I’m working on the ‘kill Lord Voldemort now, work out the temporal paradox issues later’ plan,” she tells him. He laughs. Tomione. COMPLETE

Carpe Diem by Bertie Bott M | Complete | 118k The future is explained through the past and everything happens for a reason. Hermione becomes an active part of the history she studies so diligently in class. A dream come true, right? Nothing is as it seems…

Bound by Sharkdiver1980 E/Ma | Complete | 59k After a freak accident occurs while attempting to destroy one of Voldemort’s horcruxes that sends Hermione back in time to the year 1947, she finds herself forcefully subjected to a new law put in place by the ministry to counteract the damage to the wizarding population done by Grindelwald. It was no wonder she had never heard of Proclamation no.1682, otherwise known as “The Marriage Law”, since it had obviously been repealed almost as quickly as it was instated. The problem was, she had already been assigned a husband. HG/TMR

Somewhere in Time by SerpentInRed M | Complete  | 345k Sent back in time by a mysterious person and trapped in the past with a missing Dumbledore and an overbearing, charismatic Dark Lord, they had no idea how much they could dabble with time before the world they had known shattered into pieces.

All The Wrong Choices by QueenOfTheDreamers (QueenOfDreamers) M | Complete | 165k Hermione Granger is kidnapped by Severus Snape and taken to Lord Voldemort, who behaves in a bizarrely familiar manner with Hermione. When she’s rocketed back in time by Voldemort, she realises just why he knew her so well in the 1990s - it was because he’d known her very well indeed, as Tom Marvolo Riddle, in an entirely different time. She had to go back because she’d been there. But will she stay? Also has a sequel: Clocks Out of Order.

Restricted by Flaignhan T | Complete | 35k What harm ever came from reading a book? TRHG

The Diary by LittleMulattoKitten, weestarmeggie M | WIP | 121k Hermione was suspicious when she found an old journal amongst her things. Tom was intrigued the night someone else's handwriting appeared in his diary. Lord Riddle watches his past unfold from Hermione's side of the timeline to make sure history repeats itself without Albus's interference.

[the-ninja-legacy-whip]

HELLO YES I´D LOVE TO KNOW ABT JAY´S EYE??? i´m guessing skybound related?? (i am SOOO curious abt your plans for skybound btw aaaaaa!!!!)

(adgsfgsdfass i actually hadn´t noticed it first, my dumbass went and looked at the pretty lights of the ferris wheel and brain shut down lmaoo, gotta step up my game >:0)

also damn!! those are some GOOD colors, the atmosphere is amazing!!!! been to the beach when the weather is like that, scary stuff!!!

Operation Rainbow Lights Distraction is successful *-*)9

Kidding, but it's good to know that his eye is both subtle yet striking! S'what I was going for!

Anywaaaay, explanation time! Grab popcorn and really think about if you're ready to discuss fantasy eye trauma before jumping in <3

So we all know Jay gets an eyepatch in Skybound, but in actuality Clancee just gives it to him for aesthetic reasons, even though Future!Jay was seen to have one back in S5. And, of course, the fandom has run rampant with all sorts of deliciously angsty ideas (blinding him, making it a different color, gouging his eye out, etc), but I...can't do that lmao

-Blinding his eye completely would cause too much of a butterfly effect for a lot of the things he does in later seasons, and I am already juggling enough subplots lmao. Besides, this is one of the common go-tos for him and I wanna take a different approach. -I can't change the color of his eye without going against my own established lore (I did consider just making it a light blue but a) that's also a common thing and b) would wind up looking too close to Zane SO—) -I don't have the stomach to gouge his eye out completely. I can tear Zane limb from limb, carve into Kai's face like a Christmas ham, and have Lloyd nearly lose a hand but I can't bring myself to do that aaaaaaaAAAAA–

BUT I wanted to do something interesting with his eye, and to do something at least a little bit different from what I've personally seen.

Soooo then instead of some kind of external injury (that is, a physical trauma caused by someone/something else), I started looking into the effects that Lightning can have on the eye (so for my purposes, something Jay would inflict on himself). Turns out there's actually possible "lightning injuries" that can occur on the eye (rare though they are), ranging from star-shaped cataracts, electrical burns, iris collapsing (kinda cool, but also ew and horrifying), and ofc effects on vision itself without just straight up blindness.

There's also that I haven't seen very many changes with his sclera (white eye part) either. From scleritis to simple eye strain, the eyes can become bloodshot...but, what if it was permanent, and what if it was from electricity?

ANYWAY I put all this info into a blender and made the following smoothie out of it:

So during Skybound, Jay gets chained up in Vengestone on Nadakhan's ship and mercilessly tortured, yadda ya, but instead of one of the pirates inflicting harm onto Jay, he still tries to force the use of his powers even through the Vengestone, which causes an internal surge within him (as his powers "run in circuits", and applying Vengestone essentially makes his powers an "open circuit", meaning they have no current to follow/no outlet to head towards, so all that power/energy just gets channelled back inward and goes nowhere)

...meaning that the force of the attempt "blows" Jay's eye out from the strain (not literally, but think of it like he's having a contained Outburst, with all that power trying to channel out through the eyes as it would naturally but it can't). The resulting flash/pain turns his eye glassy, makes his eye bloodshot (but instead of "blood" its with electricity, hence the blue), and affects the shape of his pupil (making it diamond star-shaped, though you can't really tell in the tarot card unless you squint).

Resulting complications of this are that his one eye becomes extremely sensitive to certain amounts of light, his eye tears up randomly and get easily irritated, it causes chronic pain on that one side of his head, there's a on-and-off haze around his gaze, and he does start to gradually get worsening vision as he gets older (but not until he passes on his powers to whomever).

He wears the eyepatch when the environment is particularly bright (or he's meeting someone new and doesn't wanna freak 'em out), but without both his eyes his precision and evasive ability gets hindered (which is inconvenient when you're lightning. Also inconvenient when you're trying to teleport and lack depth perception). So, sometimes it's a gamble of if he wants to miss his target, or to avoid excruciating, crippling pain.

But other than that he's fine <3

[lonestarflight]

Cancelled Missions: STS-61-F

The mission would have flown on Space Shuttle Challenger and launched on May 15, 1986. It would have been crewed by John M. Lounge, Roy D. Bridges Jr., Frederick H. Hauck, and David C. Hilmers and would have deploy the Ulysses solar probe, which would travel to Jupiter and use it as a gravitational slingshot in order to be placed into polar orbit around the Sun.

It would have marked the first use of the Centaur-G liquid-fueled payload booster.

The centaur had been chosen to facilitate launching deep space probes from the shuttle. The stage used volatile propellants, Liquid hydrogen / Liquid oxygen (LOX) and both Challenger and Atlantis were modified to carry the stage. These modifications entailed a venting system for the periodically venting Iof hydrogen, which needs to be stored below −253 °C (−423 °F) to keep it from boiling.

These missions were already considered highly risky before the loss of Challenger and only experienced astronauts were allowed to be on them. This is due the stage needing to be launched as soon as the shuttle reaches orbit. This does not give any first time astronauts enough time to adjust the weightlessness and possibly developing space adaptation syndrome (or space sickness). Which "occurs when the environment and the person appear visually to be in motion relative to one another even though there is no corresponding sensation of bodily movement originating from the vestibular system.

Two such missions were planned, STS-61-F and STS-61-G, launching the Ulysses satellite and the Galileo satellite respectively. In the wake of the Challenger Disaster, NASA reevaluated the risks of the shuttle-centaur missions and were cancelled.

They were later launched using the much less powerful solid-fueled Inertial Upper Stage (IUS), and multiple gravitational assists around Venus and Jupiter to arrive at their destinations.

Ulysses was launched on October 6, 1990, from Space Shuttle Discovery during STS-41.

After reaching its intended solar orbit, the probe ran for 18 years, 8 months and 24 days.

The probe's many discoveries deserve their own post.

Thank you for reading my post if you made it this far.

Information from Wikipedia: source, source, source, source, source, source, source, source, source, source