#and I was determined to catch up to the last 24 hours

[dcviated]

I emerge from my drafts covered in blood.

[squishytenya]

semblance of touch

prologue - part one - part two - part three

pairing - bakugou x gn!reader

warnings - swearing, bkg uses princess as a nickname but in a gn way, enemies to lovers, minor injuries, hospital setting briefly (title from sedated by hozier)

By the time you had pulled on your jacket and caught up with him, the blonde was already at the front of the hospital. He took one look at you and scowled. Scoffing, you pushed past him and towards the street you knew led towards your shared dorms. 

Your stomping was interrupted by a sharp pain in your chest. Grunting, you paused and waited for the annoyingly cocky blonde to catch up with you. 

“Hurt, Didn't it?”

You sucked on your teeth. Was he going to be so goddamn annoying the entire time? You might put everyone out of their misery and smother him before the quirk even has time to run its course. 

You spun on your heel, pressing your index finger to his annoyingly muscled chest. 

“Listen, I know you don’t like me, I don’t know what I did to you but could you try not to be a giant dick for this please” you hissed at him. 

He dragged his tongue across his teeth, peering down at you. The scowl on his face wasn’t promising but you were determined not to break under his gaze. You could give as good as you got and he was going to be perfectly aware of that by the end of this whole thing. 

He folded. 

“Fine.”

“Thank you” you huffed, spinning around again.

This time you tried not to stray too far from him. 

— 

“We’re gonna have to move you to his room”

Your jaw dropped. Bakugou and you had come to Aizawa’s office to try and look for some sort of fix for the situation. Ripping a bite from your sandwich, you clenched your hands behind your back. It was clear that your angry blonde companion wasn’t too happy about this turn of events either - if his smoking palms were any indication.

“What do you mean? There’s a spare room on his floor” you stuttered, “it’s literally right next to him why can’t I stay there?”

Your professor grumbled, leaning forward in his chair. His black hair looked tousled and his eye bags seemed even bigger than usual - something you hadn’t thought possible until this moment. Because you and Bakugou were his students, despite you both being adults, you were still technically under his guidance and that meant he had to deal with the technicalities of the situation you had landed yourself in. 

“It’s not furnished and the bathroom is on the side of Bakugou’s room” he explained, “even if you moved your bed to the back wall you wouldn’t be close enough” 

You gnawed on your lip and waited for your teacher to continue. 

“We don’t know how long this is going to take to sort, it’s not worth moving the entire dorm layout if it’s going to be fixed in the next couple of days”

“What do you mean days?” came a gruff voice from behind you. 

You grimaced as you were reminded of just who your new roomie was. 

“We thought this was a 24-hour deal, sensei” you scrambled to cover for your counterparts rudeness.

Aizawa quirked a brow at you - the closest to amusement you think you’ve seen on him. Shifting on your feet, you decided that avoiding eye contact would be the best idea. 

“We don’t know that, none of the others have seen any progress so you're just going to have to deal with it” Aizawa’s eyes glowed slightly on the last few syllables.

Even though his annoyance wasn’t directed at you, you still shivered under its weight. He was very obviously tired so if Katsuki could just leave it alone, you could finally sort your shit out. 

“Your things are being moved as we speak,” Aizawa grumbled. 

Cringing once again, you nodded at your teacher and removed yourself from the situation, much to your own relief. Usually, you had no problem being a slight annoyance to the man - he had multiple years to get used to you. But you were tired, and so was he, so you would have to save your annoyance for your lovely new best friend. 

“Come on then dumbass, you smell like hospital and it’s making me retch”

You gaped at Bakugou’s comment, dragging your arm up to your face to smell it. By the time you realised he was pulling your leg, the taller boy was halfway to the elevator and dangerously close to 8ft away. 

“Look,” you started, “if this is gonna work, you’re gonna have to slow the fuck down”

You emphasised the last word, slapping your hand on the blonde’s bare shoulder. A zap of electricity travelled up your arm and through your body, leaving that tingly warmth in its place. It flowed through your body like the drip of honey in your veins. The sensation caused you to let out an embarrassing whimper/gasp combination and you felt your face heat up in response to it. 

Katsuki obviously felt it too, his body freezing up under your touch. You saw a shiver travel through his body, seemingly emerging from where your palm laid across his tan skin. A breathy sound escaped his nose. 

You both stood in the hall, frozen in place. 

“Uh,” you forced out, “we should really… um- go to the dorm”

It took Katsuki a second to regain his composure but he eventually returned to his gruff, standoffish self and shrugged your touch off of his skin. Grumbling, he continued down the hall towards what was now your combined bedroom. 

— 

The room was still very distinctly Bakugou. It was fairly plain, blue and grey bed sheets and very few posters. There was some skincare on the desk next to his bed and a fair collection of books tucked neatly into a bookshelf across the room from his bed. There were a few photos hung on the wall. They featured a brunette man with glasses and a woman that looked like an older, female version of the man that stood in the room with you. Bakugou’s parents, you assumed. 

What really surprised you was the simple white plant pot on his window. The little purple flowers were no bigger than an inch in diameter but they seemed perfectly pruned, not a leaf or petal out of place or a sun spot in sight. They added some colour to the room - something it was sorely missing. 

The only thing that really seemed out of place was the camp bed that had been haphazardly set up in the centre of the room. It had your bedsheets on it but there was nothing else indicating it belonged to you. You understood why this couldn't have been done in your room, the girls had a lot more protests to the loudmouth man next to you living in their side of the dorm than the three guys did to having you around. Shouji was nice enough, quiet but that was fine with you. Kirishima was already one of your close friends so it was more of a help than a hindrance to have him around - especially for him to inevitably play mediator between you and your brand new roommate. 

“Are you gonna stand there like an idiot or go shower?” 

You sucked on your teeth. 

“I was taking in my new prison cell, if you must know,” you bit back at him. 

He raised his hands in surrender. 

“Whatever you want princess, you still smell like rubbing alcohol though” 

You rubbed a hand up your arms uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact with the man in front of you. 

“They haven’t brought my clothes over yet”

He stretched his neck to the side, dragging a wide hand down the side of it and groaning. Then, a hand appeared in front of your face. 

“Keys. I’ll get Kirishima to go get your damn clothes” he grumbled. 

You shyly dropped your keys in his hand. Letting him go through your shit didn’t appeal to you too much, but a nice, warm shower certainly did. At this point, you just wanted to crawl into the shitty camp bed and pass out until the sunrise.

Calloused hands grabbed the keys from yours, and then he was gone. You adjusted your jaw, sucking on your tongue to prevent a snarky comment escaping your mouth. Casting your eyes to his open ensuite door, the white of the shower towels glinted in the bedroom light and you felt the sweet promise of cleanliness clear your stress from your shoulders. 

And you were correct. The warm spray of the shower washed away whatever dirt from the fight hadn’t been cleaned off at the hospital and you felt your tense muscles unfurl under your skin. The steam even calmed the thrumming burn under your skin from Bakugou going just over your distance threshold. You didn’t have a wash cloth here yet, but Bakugou at the very least wasn’t a 4-in-1 body wash-shampoo-kitchen-sink kinda guy. Small victories, you supposed.

The knock at the bathroom door came way too quickly for your liking. Leaning out of the shower, you cracked open the door just enough for a tan hand to drop a towel on the floor. 

What a gentleman. 

If you rolled your eyes any more today they were gonna fall out of your head. At least the burning in your chest lessened when he returned to the dorm. It was an odd thing, to find comfort in his presence when he annoyed you so much in every other aspect. Stupid quirk. Huh, finding comfort in Bakugou - maybe a side effect of the quirk was going insane. You mentally wave goodbye to your hero career and let the image of your and Bakugou’s matching padded cells flood your brain. 

The chuckle you let out wasn’t quiet. You bit your lip to stop yourself sounding like a crazy person. There was no need to give Bakugou more ammo than he already had on you. 

“The fuck are you laughing at?”

You bit your lip to stifle a giggle again. This really wasn’t the time for you to start finding stuff funny. 

Wrapping the red towel around yourself, you stepped out of the bathroom - fully expecting a pile of clothes to be waiting for you. 

Instead, it was just Bakugou sitting on the bed. Alone. 

Red eyes danced up your figure, tracing the outline of your waist and hips under the towel wrapped around your body. The red fabric only covered you from your chest to mid thigh and left a sizable amount of both peeking out either end. The water and steam made your skin supple and it seemed to glow under the warm lighting of his room. You felt your face heat up under his watchful eyes and the room seemed to heat up several degrees in the few seconds he had been dragging his eyes up and down your body. 

His lidded eyes finally met yours, peering up at you from between his dark lashes. It felt like they were looking straight through you, into your head and your exact thoughts on the situation. Bakugou shifted, as if to move towards you. 

Knock knock. 

You started, hand gripped your towel tighter against your chest. The noise had knocked you both out of whatever trace you had fallen into and the awkward energy from earlier returned tenfold. 

“Hey dude, I got the clothes you asked for” Kirishima’s enthusiastic voice echoed from behind the thin wood of the door, “I didn’t know what to get so I kinda grabbed a bunch.”

“Leave them by the door”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him as he got up, opening the door and throwing your clothes on the bed where his body had been not ten seconds earlier. Grumbling, he left and slammed the door behind him. 

“Tell me when you’re dressed or whatever.”

And with that, you were alone, wondering what the hell had just happened. 

thank you for reading! if you want to be added to the taglist for the whole series, or just Bakugou's parts lmk <3 reblogs and comments are appreciated

[g1rld1ary]

lifeguard!james x reader 3

wc: 1384

cw: horny.

the next time you see james is early in the morning. you're on a run, trying to get it in before the sun reaches full strength and it's awful to even move, so most of your town isn't awake yet. you run through the streets, legs burning and lungs heaving as you focus on the good parts of the experience. the emptiness of the streets lets you admire the old buildings -- maybe worse for wear but still architecturally beautiful. the smell of bread filled the air from one of the nearby bakeries, so far untouched by the stench of petrol usually pervading the main street. you waved at one of the bakers arranging the display cabinet in the window, the father of someone you went to school with.

the joy of the morning had distracted you from the pain of running, but when you reached the site of a public drink tap you realised how much your legs ached, tired pain shooting out from the knees. you'd run a bit further than you normally would have, caught up in your daydreams and so took a break for a drink and to stretch out the soreness in your legs, pulling your cap off to wipe the sweat from your brow. you glanced to your left casually, whipping your head back for a double take when you saw james in the window of the 24-hour gym, doing god knows what on a machine you didn't know the name of. you did, however, know that it was turning you on.

both your interactions with james thus far had featured him shirtless; as a lifeguard, it was bound to happen even with the mandatory red and yellow sun shirt, and james in particular seemed determined to wear it as little as possible. so, you knew he was gorgeous, with the body of a Greek god and the confidence to show it off. this somehow seemed more sensual -- how was it that sometimes wearing some clothes was more sexual than wearing nothing? james was in a muscle shirt with the arm holes cut longer to give a peek into the broad expanse of chest underneath. he was on the ergo, you remembered marlene explaining once, and the way his muscles shifted under his skin was downright sinful. you'd never understood why they were described as 'rippling' until you saw james'.

you realised with a start you were openly ogling him on the side of the main street and tore your eyes away with a start, pretending to admire a nearby tree as you felt your embarrassment catch up to you. you fanned yourself with your cap quickly, putting on a big show of taking a rest break for no one but yourself. stealing one last glance at him, glistening with sweat and looking positively unearthly, you began to run again, filing the image away for when you were alone.

you were pretty sure he hadn't seen you, thank god, but your hammering heart still matched the pounding of your feet against the pavement as you headed home. you figured if nothing else, giving you full-body goosebumps just by working out probably earned him your name, and you resolved to give it to him the next time you met.

you thought you were safe for the rest of the day since you were working a shift at the local supermarket, alas, fate had other plans. you'd been behind the counter for a few hours now, well into the groove of scanning the items through and getting them into bags as fast as possible.

"hi, welcome to -- oh!" you said, meeting his hazel eyes. "james."

"nice uniform," he glanced down at your shirt, eyes catching on your silver name tag. he tried it out, seemingly content with the way it sounded from his mouth.

"you caught me." you smiled, not upset your game had come to an end.

"how do you know this girl, jamie?" the woman next to him said and you noticed her for the first time. she had to be his mother, both contextually and because they shared the same spark of trouble in their eye and lopsided smile. you raised an eyebrow in his direction: jamie. james seemed unfazed, to his credit, smiling down at his mum warmly.

"this is one of the girls i told you i met down at the pool. my first friend here." his earnestness caught you off guard again and you hated the way it warmed your heart.

"it's nice to meet you mrs, uh..."

"potter," she finished for you, "but call me effie, all of james' friends do." you smiled at her, introducing yourself politely despite the name tag rendering it superfluous.

you continued to make small talk with them as you bagged their groceries, surprised by how easy it was to talk to james and his mum. you were never really one for new people in general, growing up in a smaller town made it an unnecessary skill to develop, but you were especially bad with parents. you could hardly talk to lily's parents, and she was your closest friend. yet, with effie it felt natural, as if you'd known the both of them all your life.

you answered her questions about the town patiently, giving her recommendations about what you thought were the best restaurants and telling her about the book club your mum was part of that might be a good way for her to make friends. as the transaction came to an end effie was all gratitude, showering you with kind compliments and an invitation to visit their house whenever you pleased (much to james' chagrin, judging by his red cheeks).

"you bring these to the car, mum. i just have another question and then I'll be right out." you looked at him curiously, unsure of what couldn't wait or be said in front of effie. james watched her leave for a second before turning to you with an unnaturally innocent expression.

"you follow arsenal, right? pretty chuffed with their results this season, though I wish they could've brought it home." you opened your mouth to reply before pausing, your eyes narrowing to scrutinise him.

"how do you know i support them?" you asked, sure you hadn't brought up football in your limited interactions with him.

"you were wearing their hat, right? this morning?" he asked, and you tried to think back, oh. if you hadn't picked up on the reference, james' shit-eating grin told you all you needed to know. he'd seen you this morning. oh god, james had seen you checking him out from the street and you wanted to sink into a hole.

somewhat predictably, james didn't appear mad. in fact, he looked rather pleased with himself as you covered your face with your hands, hoping he'd just leave you to wallow in self-pity.

"you know, you could've just asked," he said casually, as if you weren't utterly embarrassed, "i would've let you watch. hell, i'll let you touch if you ask nicely." now he was teasing, and for the sake of your pride you had to come up with something in response or he'd take the upper hand and never give it back.

"i was just making sure you didn't hurt yourself, big boy." not your best, but at least it wasn't tears of shame, and james seemed amused anyhow.

"good to know you would have saved me, supergirl." he shot you a wink and you scoffed good-naturedly. you shooed him off with the excuse of his mum waiting in a hot car, but honestly, you knew you couldn't keep up the banter or staring up into his eyes for much longer without jumping his bones in the middle of the checkout line. you had a feeling your boss wouldn't take too kindly to you riding james potter on the conveyor belt, even if he was the hottest man you'd ever seen in your life.

"see you later, hot stuff!" he called, probably too loudly for the grocery store, a cheeky salute to you as he braved the heat outside.

"bye, baywatch," you muttered, praying you didn't look as flustered as you felt. you called the next customer over, greeting them politely as you tried to pretend there wasn't an aching in your core.

not sure if im convinced by james as an arsenal supporter but lmk if you have a more fitting team for him!!

[drurrito]

Are You The One? - Two

A/N: Little installment for this, all mistakes are mine--thanks! Edit: excuse my poor attempt at tagging people. It might be a tumblr thing or very, very much a me thing.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, cursing, Jerk!Vision lol

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

Your side of the bed is empty when Wanda wakes up.

Wanda sits up with a groan, rubbing at her burning eyes. She can hear the sounds of silverware clanking against dishes and conversations about "how drunk was I last night?" coming from the common areas. Wanda throws her hair into a messy bun before padding out to find you sitting next to an empty chair. You smile at her like she's the sun peeking out after a long stretch of gloom.

"Good morning," you greet her softly, pouring her a glass of water, "everyone just woke up, figured you wanted to rest a little longer."

"You were...you were going to wake me?," she asks, gingerly taking the glass.

"In about...20 minutes, yes," you turn off the timer you set on your watch while Wanda tries to process why you would even bother to do something like that for her. She gives you a tight-lipped smile before leaving to pour herself a cup of coffee.

The view from behind the carafe keeps Wanda entertained while her coffee brews. Eyes bouncing around the table, cautious touches, smiles finally reaching eyes, and scattered lips to ears -- there's a different air about the house after last night. The clock is almost through ticking and aside from the prize fund, people are determined to find their match.

"How was last night?" Steve snaps a finger in your direction with a mischievous grin. You roll your eyes.

"We talked a lot, I think we're on the same page about trying this out for the ceremony."

"For what it's worth," Sharon cuts in, leaning over Steve who just puts a meaty arm around her shoulders, "I think you two would be a cute couple. Plus, you can't argue with a genius like Shuri."

You hum in agreement, "thank you," you lean back and take a sip from your glass. You glance at Carol, she greets you with a wink that can wake the moon up at this point. You feel your cheeks radiate enough heat to fry eggs.

"I don't see it," Steve interrupts with a mouthful of food.

"You don't?"

"No, I mean-the chemistry is there for sure, but Carol can have chemistry with a toaster if she really wanted to," Steve rips into his other piece of toast, "personally, I have trouble seeing it between you and Wanda, but love is complicated, plus, I'm not going to argue with Shuri's logic."

Steve continues eating, ignoring the way your head tilts and your face does the perfect impression of a question mark. Wanda misses it too as she sits back down. Her eyes don't travel far around the room after almost catching Vision's pitiful look he's been wearing since last night.

"Game day!" Tony pops the top off a bottle of beer and cracks it over the mouth of Scott's beer, making an impromptu volcano. Tony only chugs half the beer before slamming it down to head outside, where the camera crew is waiting.

That's right, it's another game day. Wanda twists the fork in her hand idly above her food while everyone else begins to file out of the house.

"Hey," you watch Wanda's eyes soften a bit when they meet yours, "you ready for this?"

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

Wanda was in fact, not ready for this.

Her hands ball into stiff fists, sitting at her sides as she watches you pick Carol's pickup line over hers. Wanda doesn't miss the twitch in your jaw the moment Carol stepped forward, maybe you were hoping for a date with Wanda too?

Wanda's eyes are locked onto the flight path of Carol's hands on your body when she feels someone nudge her side, "Val picked you," Maria whispers.

Shit.

Wanda makes sure she's smiling big enough for the cameras to see as she walks over to Valkyrie. She doesn't spare a glance at you as Val throws an arm over her shoulder to pull her in.

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

Despite everything that's happened in the past 24 hours, the boat ride is a little fun, if only a little.

"So," Val drawls, "talk to me about y/n."

"We don't have to, I'm on this date with you," Wanda drums her fingers against the side of her champagne glass that's been full since she first boarded. Val gives Wanda a gentle smile and leans forward.

"For what it's worth, I think you and y/n make a cute pair. Something is there, I'm sorry you weren't able to chip away at it on a date today."

Wanda's head tilts as she chews on her lip for a moment, "thank you," she says, "we have a little bit of time, we talked for a while last night."

"Trying to feel for a connection within a week is probably not ideal, given you spent so much time with Vision up until now."

Wanda's shoulders begin to droop, she puts a little more space between her and Val, "I feel awful for only listening to my heart," she says to the floor of the boat.

"I mean, Vision didn't really give you a moment to breathe, let alone think. This might be the most we've spoken since we got here," Val flashes a crooked smile before taking a sip from her glass. Wanda lifts her head, eyebrows furrowed.

"Is that what everyone in the house thinks too?"

"Some more than others, we just got worried about the both of you never finding your match--and costing us the prize fund, but still," Wanda shakes her head with a giggle while Val refills her glass.

"You think Shuri is right?"

"I think Shuri is more tuned in to everything going on in the house than the lot of us," Val leans back against the seat, her limbs sailing across the leather of the seat into a more comfortable position.

"I spent too much time trying to play the field instead of fostering any type of connection," Val takes another sip, throwing her head back with a groan. Wanda cracks a small smile when she remembers the foursome facilitated by Val and Carol within the first week of being here. She remembers watching everyone eavesdropping by the door while she tried to listen to Vision's monologue about the many lives he's lived before now.

"Who did Shuri say your match was?"

"Carol," Val barks out a laugh.

"I can see that."

"What?" Val picks her head up, "we're both recovering playboys, that seems like a recipe for disaster."

"I think it will lead to change more than anything. Neither of you wants to keep doing the same things forever. You might even share a deep understanding of your ways because you're so similar," Wanda shrugs, finally taking a sip of her champagne.

Val hums with a cheeky smile on her face. She keeps Wanda under a watchful eye while she sips from her glass, "you know you're pretty wise when you look around for longer than a few seconds."

That gets a playful scoff from Wanda, there's no point in defending her behavior, "I wish it would have happened sooner, maybe we wouldn't be racing against the clock."

Val only nods once, "it's a hard game to play," they both share a look at the horizon for a few moments before realizing their date is about to end.

"Tell you what," Val sets her glass down and takes Wanda's too, "tonight, I'll find Carol and bare my soul to her and you try to deepen your connection with y/n, deal?"

The boat is being docked by the time Val finishes her sentence. She's holding her hand out to Wanda. Has she just made a friend? Is this what everyone else has been doing while she was too busy with Vision to care?

Wanda docks her worries and reservations by putting her hand in Val's. They both walk to the house with a new sense of determination, this game isn't over yet.

[sissylittlefeather]

How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 6

A/N: I'm sorry this one took so long! I have a hard time writing sometimes, but y'all keep me inspired and I thank you for it. ICYMI, this is the time travel/soulmate AU with Elvis and a fem!reader.

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

Special thanks to @ccab for loving this series so much that I can't abandon it. This one's for you, baby.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, AND DRINKING, POSSIBLE ALCOHOLISM, and ANGSTTTTTT

Word count: ~3.5k

There's no way he's leaving you now. Not like this.

******

When your alarm goes off the next morning you roll over and groan, turning it off haphazardly. Elvis has been awake for a while, watching you sleep. He knows today might be rough for you, but he has a question that's burning in his mind and just won't go away. Seeing you last night has him worried about your wellbeing.

"You alright, honey?"

"Mmm. No." You groan and snuggle into his chest. Your hangover has your head pounding and your stomach rolling over. You want nothing more than to sleep in his arms for the next 24 hours, but he seems determined to wake you up.

"You need food. Come on." He tries to get you out of the bed, but you don't move.

"Later. I need sleep."

"Y/n, it's almost noon." You laugh.

"So much for my 10:30 class."

"Come on, honey. We gotta get up."

"Why??" You whine and snuggle under the covers again.

"Because we need to talk." This gets your attention. It doesn't sound like he has a good talk in mind. Has he had enough of you? You should've known this was coming. You've been a mess for almost two years now. It makes sense that he would notice it and want to cut ties as soon as possible. Making a portal will be difficult if he doesn't love you or even like you anymore. You sit up and grimace.

"Talk about what?"

"Let's just go get some food." Somehow, you manage to slink out of bed and get some clothes on. You know you must look terrible, but you don't care. It matches the way you feel, both physically and emotionally. He's not even gone yet and you already miss him.

About twenty minutes later, you find yourself in a booth at a local breakfast place and he waits for you to finish as many fried potatoes as you can stomach before he comes back to his question.

"Y/n, I told you we need to talk about something."

"I know. You're ready to leave and never come back, aren't you?"

"What? No. The exact opposite. I'm worried about you."

"About me? Why?"

"Are you happy?"

"Right now?" You look around the restaurant and consider your current level of happiness.

"No. When I'm not here. Are you... are you okay?" You look down at your hands. So he has picked up on the fact that you're not doing so great. You think for a long time before you answer him. Should you be honest and tell him that you've been miserable every day for almost two years? Or should you act like everything is fine, so he'll go back through the portal to his own life? You look back up into his eyes and know you can't lie.

"No. I'm not." He grabs your hand where it sits on the table and watches as your eyes fill with tears.

"That's what I was afraid of. It's my fault isn't it?" He rubs small circles on the back of your hand.

"No, Elvis it's not you. I just should never have left you alone. I know how much it hurt you. I'll regret it forever." A single tear slides down your cheek.

"Honey, no. You had to go. We didn't know any other way. I understand that. I don't blame you for anything." He stands up and scoots in next to you on your side of the booth as the tears start to stream down your face and your shoulders quake with the intensity of your sadness. You feel his arm wrap around you and he holds you as tightly as he can without hurting you. You cry and cry into his chest and it feels like all the pain from the last two years finally has some release.

He holds you and looks at the ceiling trying not to let his own tears fall. His resolve to never leave you gets stronger and stronger. How could he when he knows how badly you need him?

******

You spend the next week together and slowly you start to feel better. His presence is reassuring and almost healing. Knowing that he's forgiven you does wonders for your depression. Still, every time he ignores a portal, a small part of you worries that he might be missing his last chance. You know he has to go back. He has to become the man the world knows. And as much as you want to keep him here, you know he can't stay forever.

On Friday, one of your friends invites you to a party at his house. Elvis is nervous about you drinking again, but he agrees to come along just to be with you. Before you head over, your friends come over to pre-party like always. The shots of Fireball start to go around again and Elvis throws back two just to try to ease his nerves about how the night will go. He has a bad feeling, for some reason, but the Fireball helps.

By the time you get to the party, you're both pretty relaxed and ready to have a good time. You stay together and mingle with the other party guests. When you decide it's time for a second drink, though he tries to stop you gently.

"Y/n, are you sure? Remember how you felt on Monday?" You stop and look up at him surprised.

"I'm sorry; are you my dad now?" He rolls his eyes as you walk away to get another drink. He follows close behind you.

"No, I'm just sayin' maybe you don't really wanna do this again." He steps in between you and the bar. "You know I love you. I just want what's best for you."

"Ha. Okay. How about this: I'll listen to you when you start listening to me about leaving." The alcohol in your system makes you brazen. You can't ignore it anymore.

"That is not the same at all, honey."

"Except it is. I know what's best for you, you know what's best for me. Now, let me get a drink, please." The thought of sending him through the portal inspires you to drink even more, but you know it has to be done. Maybe if you push him away now, it'll be easier for both of you. He steps out of the way to let you walk up to the bar. To your surprise, he gets himself another two shots of Fireball. This may not end well for either of you. When you get away from the bar, he puts his arm around your waist and pulls you in close. You think back to your earlier plan to push him away. Despite the unbelievable comfort you find in his embrace, you know now is the time.

"You know, you don't always have to stay with me. You can walk around and talk to people. I'm fine." He looks down into your face, shocked.

"Doll, I'm perfectly happy to stay right here. Fore-"

"Don't say it." You interrupt him before he can. This whole situation is breaking your heart and you just need him to get it over with and go. Before either of you can say anything else though, your friend, Zach, that lives at the house calls to him.

"John! What's up, man?" He pats him on the back and shakes his hand. Elvis quickly rearranges his face to hide everything he's feeling as a result of your conversation. Sometimes you forget he's such a talented performer, but watching him change like this brings it all back to you.

They chat for a bit about music, since Zach was present for Elvis's karaoke success and he plays the guitar himself. Somehow the conversation ends with Zach fetching two guitars from his bedroom.

"Hey, yo, cut the music!" Zach hollers to no one in particular. The party music stops and the jam session begins. Luckily, Zach is an Elvis fan and there's a good number of songs they can play together. When Elvis starts to sing, you notice something you haven't before: the other girls. He certainly has their attention as they stand in various states of attraction. Some giggle, some blush, and some simply stand with their mouths slightly open. You look back at him and he's eating it up. Maybe it's the alcohol, but maybe it's just who he is. You shouldn't be surprised. You've read about him and his ways with women. It's different to see it in action when he's supposed to be with you, though. A few of them come close to him and sit down around him and he sings directly to them with a flirty smile. When he winks at your friend Stephanie, you turn away and head to the bar. There's only one guy back there, since everyone else is busy watching the music taking place in the living room.

"What're you drinkin'?"

"I don't care. Give me a shot of anything."

"A girl after my own heart." He smiles and you notice he's actually really cute with his round blue eyes and sandy brown hair fixed in a faux hawk. You take the shot that he hands you and smile in return.

"Thanks. I'm y/n." You reach out to shake his hand and he kisses yours gently.

"I'm Jeff. Pleased to make your acquaintance." He's a little dorky, but you're kind of into it.

"You're not an Elvis fan, I take it?" He asks.

"Ha, no that's not exactly... I just... it's hard to explain."

"No worries. We can talk about something else. What's the best concert you've ever been to?"

Your conversation continues while Elvis plays in the living room. He looks up from the throng of girls that has gathered around him to try to find you, but you're nowhere to be found. He turns back to Zach and hands him the guitar.

"Thanks, that was fun. I've gotta find my girl, though." The party music starts back up and the girls close in on him to try to get him to dance, or more, but he gently brushes them off. He's getting more and more nervous about your whereabouts. When he finds you, you're doing another shot with Jeff. After you finish it, you lean your head on his shoulder and laugh. You've had more than enough alcohol and you're clearly not thinking straight. Elvis stands there in shock for a good thirty seconds before he walks up to you.

"Are you having fun?"

"Oh shit, it's my boyfriend." You giggle and pop your head up.

"Something like that." He wraps his arm around you and pulls you over to him. "Come on, it's time to go."

"Maybe I don't want to leave. Maybe I want to stay here with Jeff." You gesture to the guy at the bar. Elvis's eyes burn with something you haven't seen before. It's a kind of possessive anger and jealousy and you should know not to push him. But you're drunk and sad and want to push him away, so you double down. "Maybe you should take one of your fangirls home."

"Oh shit." Jeff says and laughs out loud. Elvis turns to him and grabs the front of his shirt.

"Give me an excuse, fucker." This sobers you significantly and you step in between them facing Elvis.

"Babe, don't. Okay? I'll go with you." You almost called him Elvis in front of all these people, but you caught it at the last second. Still, the pet name seems to pull him back down to earth and soften him. He lets go of Jeff's shirt and puts his arm around your shoulders.

"Let's get the hell outta here." He guides you to the exit, forgetting that you drove and shouldn't drive home. He digs your keys out of your purse and gets you settled in the front seat. Then, he slides into your seat behind the steering wheel. He knows how to drive a car, obviously, but this is not any kind of car he's familiar with. It takes him a good ten minutes, but he eventually figures out the push-button start and how to adjust your mirrors and seat with the electric controls. While he's doing all of that, all you can do is look out the window and cry quietly. You know what needs to happen tonight. And more importantly, you know what you're sending him back to. Or rather, who you're sending him back to. He'll fall in love a few times and none of them will be with you. And then he'll get married. That won't be you either. You can't live like this anymore. You have to let him go. And the very thought of that damn near breaks you.

"Hon? What's wrong?" He's finally figured out how to drive your car and noticed that you're crying.

"You have to leave. Tonight."

"What the hell? Because of the other girls? Look, I'm sorry about that. But I don't want any of them. I don't want anyone but you." He reaches out and touches your face and it just makes you cry harder.

"No, not because of that."

"Then let's just forget about it. I'm not going anywhere." You ride the rest of the way in silence with his hand in yours, tears still sliding down your face.

Finally, you get back to your house and you've managed to stop crying. He comes around to your side to help you out of the car. You're so exhausted from the events of the evening that he half-carries you to your room.

When you make it inside, you stand in your room just looking at each other. He leans down and kisses your mouth gently. You grab the back of his neck and pull him into a deeper kiss, putting every emotion you're feeling into the movement of your tongue against his. He snakes his arms around your waist and holds you close, pushing your hips into his. You feel his erection growing and swallow the lump in your throat. He pulls back and looks into your eyes.

"You're not too drunk for this?"

"I'm really not. I promise." He sees how clear your eyes are and knows you're telling the truth, so he goes back to kissing you. You know you'll need to have sex with him to do what needs to be done. But the fact that this is probably the last time you will hits you squarely in your chest and settles there.

He pulls your shirt up and over your head and you do the same with his. He presses his chest to yours and puts his hands behind your back to undo your bra. For the first time, he manages to get it off all by himself.

"Ah ha! I got it!" He's so excited that he tosses your bra to the side and lifts you so that your legs are wrapped around his waist. You grab onto him and hold him a little too tightly. He lays you down on the bed, climbing in next to you, and puts his hand on the side of your face.

"Doll, what's wrong? Please tell me." You search for something you can tell him that won't give away your plan.

"I'm just sad again. Ignore me."

"You know I can't do that. Do you not want to do this?"

"No! I want to! I need it. Please." He remembers how you were there for him when he needed you and nods.

"Just tell me if you want me to stop." He runs his hand down your neck to your chest, massaging your breast gently. Then, he keeps going down to your hip, pulling you into him. He kisses down your neck and slides his hand under your pants and down to your center. Teasing your entrance with his finger, he gathers some of the wetness gathered there and begins to massage your clit. You moan softly and your hips buck forward into his hand.

"Does that feel good, baby?"

"God, yes."

"Good. I just wanna make you feel good tonight." You whimper as he pulls his hand out to unbutton your jeans and slide them down your legs and off. He makes his way back up to your center, pressing hot kisses to your legs along the way. When he gets back up to the place where your thighs come together, he presses a kiss to you through your panties. He pulls them off too and pushes his mouth onto you, settling his tongue on your clit. He licks up each side and then begins to move over and around it in the way that only he can.

"Yes! Elvis!" You moan loudly and run your fingers through his hair.

"That's my good girl." He says it quickly and goes back to licking you. You feel the pressure of your orgasm gathering in your center as he laps at you, moving down to slide his tongue into your slit periodically. Finally, he slips two fingers into you and pushes them in and out quickly while he tightens his tongue and drags it over your clit repeatedly.

"Oh God! I'm gonna come!" You whisper breathlessly.

"Do it, baby, come for me. I wanna feel you." Just as he ends his sentence, you feel the burst of your orgasm take off and reverberate across your body.

"Ohhhhhh, fuck, yes." You moan through gritted teeth as you pulse around his fingers. He smiles and kisses your clit one last time before taking his pants off.

The thing that's settled in your chest threatens to come screaming out of you and you feel the tears begin to gather again. As he climbs back up your body, you grab him and pull him into a kiss, hoping you can distract him from the fact that you're almost crying again. You press your forehead to his with your eyes closed and whisper.

"Make love to me, Elvis." He pulls back and looks you in the eye. Something is wrong and he knows it.

"Do you know how much I love you, y/n?"

You nod and lose control of the tears as they run down your cheeks. "You're sure this is what you want?"

"Yes, please. I need to know you love me." He lines his cock up with your entrance and pushes into you slowly. When he fills you fully, he pulls back and slides into you again.

"I love you more than I ever thought was possible." He kisses your cheek and thrusts into you again. "I love you so much that I don't even feel like I'm fully myself without you." Your voice catches in your throat.

"Please don't say that."

"Y/n, I love you with everything that I am." He continues to push into you slowly, picking up speed with each thrust. You grab him and hold him tightly while he moves against you. You wrap your legs around him and try to get as close to him as possible. If you could, you'd melt into him completely and stay with him forever. But you can't and you know that. So instead you hold him and cry silently as he drives into you as gently and lovingly as possible.

"I'm gettin' close, doll." You nod and he kisses the tears on your cheeks. He begins to pump in and out faster before he reaches his climax and moans loudly, shuddering into you. He pulls out of you and rolls over, cradling you against his chest.

When you hear the buzzing sound, you squeeze him tight and then stand up. Your hands are shaking and the tears continue to flow.

"Get up, Elvis. You have to get dressed."

"What? No. I told you-"

"Do you want to go through naked?!" You yell at him and he stands up ready to fight you on this.

"I'm not going! I'm staying here with you forever, y/n! I can't leave you. You're the love of my life."

"No. I'm not. You have to go back to her. You have to get married and be a dad. I can't take those things from you." You toss him his pants and he puts them on without thinking.

"Then I'll marry you. I'll have babies with you. That's what I want anyway!"

"You can't. Elvis, God, I'm so sorry. I'm so so so sorry. You know I will always love you, right?"

"Sorry? Sorry for what?"

"For this." You shove the rest of his uniform into his hands and push on his chest with both hands as hard as you can. You manage to catch him off guard just enough and he stumbles backwards, falling through the portal.

"Nooo!!" You hear him yell as he disappears.

The portal closes with a pop.

You fall to the floor and sob openly.

******

Back in 1960, Elvis falls backwards onto the floor of the train station and scrambles into the bathroom. He manages to get his uniform back on and then slides down the wall, tears streaming down his face.

What will happen to you without him?

Will he ever see you again?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Will there be a next chapter?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @ashtag6887 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @eddiesgirlforever @helen06dreamer @returntopresley

[hellfirexhoe]

Thursdays | Eddie Munson x Bitchy Reader

summary: This follows the events of part 2 directly. Eddie and reader are enemies who hate fuck.

1,900+ words

warnings: 18+ only, minors dni, swearing, name calling, mention of drugs, reference to roofies, enemies to lovers fuck buddies, rough sex, p in v with a condom, sex in a semi-public place, ANGST, female reader

Series Masterlist

It had been less than 24 hours since you left Eddie's after a quick detour to the pharmacy. The usual routine goes something like screw Eddie until you're both exhausted, go home, shower and then continue to ignore his presence the following day.

So with these two things considered why has Eddie Munson been staring at you with his ridiculous baby cow eyes throughout the whole day? No one else had really noticed thankfully, except Chrissy.

"What did you do to that poor boy last night?" Chrissy asked as she followed Eddie's burning gaze across the canteen straight to the back of your head.

"I swear, I didn't do anything."

Chrissy shakes her head, "No, somethings up. Did you guys do butt stuff?!"

"Chrissy I am begging you to please shut the fuck up." You manage to speak through gritted teeth, pointedly looking at the rest of the table who are all in earshot of your conversation.

"Oh right. Sorry." Chrissy then speaks louder, "Hey, do you have that textbook I leant you last week?"

"What textbook? What are you talking about?"

"You know, the physics textbook that you said you would bring in for me today?" Chrissy's eyes are about to pop out of her skull as she gives you a stare so intense it rivals Eddie's.

"Ohh, yes I have the textbook, I think I left it in my car."

"Let's go for a walk."

Neither of your performances were particularly Oscar worthy but thankfully they were all discussing Jason's party on Saturday so no one paid much attention to you both leaving.

The parking lot was virtually empty so Chrissy rounds on you the second you were outside,

“Spill.”

“Nothing to spill Chrissy, nothing out of the ordinary happened. Just a small hiccup.”

“A hiccup?”

“Turns out he’s not so hot on date checking condoms.”

“And?”

“It split?”

Chrissy starts laughing, “Oh, my god. I can’t believe I’m going to be an auntie to a little Munson.”

“Fuck off, that’s not happening. Morning after pill.”

"If it works."

"So not funny, Chrissy."

"That doesn’t explain why he’s looking at you so weirdly.”

“I don’t know, maybe the freak is hoping I didn’t take it. He made a comment about wanting to see me with a small bump in the uniform.”

Chrissy is helpless with laughter as the bell rings, in fact your whole walk to Spanish is accompanied by a soundtrack of snickers.

Your usual desk mate is back so Eddie is forced to his normal seat at the back of the classroom, its not much of a reprieve since you can feel his stare burning a hole through your head. Determined to keep ignoring him, you don’t turn, you stay focused on your lesson. Until a balled up piece of paper smacks into the back of your head, you whip round, ready to speak but your teacher beats you to it, stooping down to pick up the ball of paper,

“Mr Munson, something you’d like to share with the class?” You hold your breath as the ball of paper is unraveled, your mind spirals as you contemplate all the incriminating things Eddie could have possibly written,

“Please focus on your work instead of distracting students who have a hope of passing this year.” The ball of paper is thrown into the recycling bin, evidently blank of any words. Eddie fidgets some but returns to his work. He’s first out of the door when the bell rings, and you begin to relax, thinking maybe he’s just been messing with you. You catch up with Chrissy in the hall and begin your walk to the next lesson, when you are suddenly yanked from the hall and into a closet.

“Okay you are seriously pissing me off now, what the fuck do you want Eddie?”

Eddie chews his cheek, “Hi?”

“You have not been staring at me like a psycho all day and grabbing me into a closet to just say hi. Is this about last night? I took the pill when I got home.”

“Uh, no not about that. Glad to hear it though, your body your choice, girl power.” Eddie is being infinitely more awkward than usual.

“What is it then? You’ve got like a minute before I’m late.”

“Are you going to Jason’s party this Saturday?”

“Please. Please tell me you are not about to fucking ask me to bring you to that party.”

“No, I was more wondering if I could convince you not to go.”

“And do what instead? Sit in on your fucking d&d game? Hang out in the trailer watching movies? Piss off. Why can’t I go?”

“Some of the guys were, uh, placing an order.”

“Okay?” Drugs were commonplace at Jason’s parties, it wasn’t exactly some huge secret.

“Some of that shit I’m not going to supply. But I know that there are some dealers who don’t exactly have any moral codes.”

“Eddie. Everyone knows there are drugs at parties, I’ve taken drugs at parties. I really don’t get why you’re freaking out about this. It’s not like I’m your girlfriend, we’re not even friends.”

“Okay fine, just. Watch your drinks ‘kay? Don’t let anyone get your drinks.” Eddie offers you a weak smile and you rolls your eyes,

“Do you think I’m stupid Eddie? Let me tell you someth-”

The second bill trills outside.

“Shit, now I’m late.”

“So ditch?”

“Its this attitude that’s the reason you’re going to miss graduating again.”

“You wound me. C’mon I’m sure the two of us can find something fun to do instead of going to those boring lessons.” Eddie steps closer to you,

“We’re not fucking on school property.” You open the door but Eddie easily shuts it against your strength.

“Okay, so what is your excuse going to be for being so late? Plus if people happen to look out of the window and see us leaving this closet together they’ll know. They’ll know that you’re my easy slut.” Eddie whispers the words you spoke last night against your ear, the darkness in his voice making you shiver.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“That’s a yes then.” Eddie picks you up, big hands cupping your thighs as he places you to sit on a cabinet. You go to start taking your uniform off and he shakes his head,

“No time for that.”

“Liar, you just want to fuck me in my cheerleader uniform.”

“Guilty.” As he speaks Eddie is undoing his jeans with one hand and teasing you through your underwear with the other, his skilled fingers tracing circles around your clit as you shut your eyes and lean back against the wall. You hiss at the sudden cold feeling as Eddie’s rings touch your sensitive skin when he pulls your underwear to the side, now teasing your bare pussy with his cock.

“You’d better have a condom with you.” 

“Hmm, what if I want to try bareback with you?” Eddie whispers in your ear,

“Absolutely fucking not.” You tense up and begin to push him away, closing your legs.

“Relax. I was kidding.” Eddie rolls his eyes at you as he rummages through his wallet to find a condom, before he can rip it open you snatch it from his hands and eye the date.

“We’re not having a repeat of last night.” You glare at him as you return the satisfactorily dated condom to him, “Also its bad to keep them in wallets.”

“Jesus christ, do you ever shut up?” Eddie grunts as he rolls the condom on and pulls your body flush against his, his cock immediately bottoming out in you, earning a quiet whimper from you in response to the sudden fullness. Eddie gives you a moment to adjust and places his hand over your mouth with a cheeky grin as he starts to roughly pound into you, making you moan loudly against his hand.

“Such a good little slut for me, taking this big cock instead of going to a boring lesson.” Eddie purrs at you quietly, eyes focused on how good his dick looks covered in your slick every time he withdraws. He looks away for a second just to admire how undone you’re becoming, he can feel your drool against his palm, hear your muffled cries. He takes his hand away from your mouth and shushes you,

“Naughty girl better be quiet, otherwise someone might come looking for those pretty little sounds you’re making and see you getting fucked by the freak in your uniform.” You bite your lip as he starts rubbing your clit with a smug smirk on his face, “Am I still bad at this?” His thrusts do not falter even for a second as he waits for your answer,

“ah, uh... fucking... awful.” You manage to pant out unconvincingly as Eddie laughs quietly,

“Aw, maybe I should stop if this is so terrible for you.”

You shake your head frantically, “n,no stop...ping. Practice.”

“If you weren’t such a bitch I’d say you look cute when you’re begging me not to stop fucking you.” Eddie is picking up the pace, feeling how close you’re getting by how tight your walls are around his cock, hands pulling up your top so he can watch your tits bounce with every thrust and he groans at the sports bra he uncovers,

“Hate these fucking things. Keeps you far too un-bouncy.” Eddie unclasps it with ease, not removing it just pulling it below your tits so he can get his favorite view, “You like being my little cock sleeve don’t you?”

“ ‘m not yours.”

“No?” Eddie slows his thrusts, a small smile on his face,

“N-no, I’ll never be yours. T-this is all there is.”

“So I really can’t make you not go to that stupid party on Saturday?”

You shake your head, “An’ you can’t stop me from fucking someone else at the party.”

Eddie grabs your jaw angrily, almost possessively,

“Then I’ll just have to fucking ruin you for anyone else then.” He pulls you off the cabinet and turns you around, forcing you to bend at the waist over the cabinet and wastes no time in slamming back into you, hands gripping your skirt so tight you faintly hear some threads breaking. You start to moan in spite of yourself, volume increasing the closer you get to finishing, everything around you starting to fade away,

“Fucking shit, shut up!” Eddie hisses as he sticks his fingers in your mouth, muffling the sounds elicited by you, with his other hand he’s rubbing your clit roughly, until finally your legs are shaking, you’re biting down on his fingers and clamping around his cock while your orgasm takes over, your still shaking slightly when Eddie lets off a string of curse words as he cums, his cock twitching violently against your sore walls. He pulls out slowly, determined to make you really feel the loss of him. Once he’s out, he tucks your underwear back over your sore and soaked pussy.

“Think you’ll be able to walk for the rest of the day?” He teases you as you straighten up and readjust your clothes.

“Fucker. You know I have practice after school today.”

“I do indeed.”

The bell chimes from the hallway and you step out into the wave of students that passes. Eddie waits a few more minutes, straightening his clothes, waiting for the chatter to quieten. Once he’s certain no one who saw you leave the closet would see him leaving the same closet he steps out.

[midnightstar-90]

A Cry For Help

Evan Buckley x Platonic! Fem! Reader

Request from @lillybearblog: “can i make a request for Buck from 911? Maybe you are bestfriends for awhile and he comes over and notices there is a small fire or something. You are passed out on the floor and wake to the smoke and Buck checking your pulse or something. He gets you out safely”

Summary: Buck is recently informed that his friend is going through a recent breakup, that has led her to begin drinking in a way Buck had never seen her drink before. When a fire starts at her house, Buck is determined to help his friend.

Warnings:  Angst, Alcohol, Mentions Of Infidelity, A Little Blood (But No Gore Or Anything), Language

A/N: I wrote 3/4ths of a story that I didn't know how to finish, and then this came to mind. As always, I'm sorry for the delay. I'm not very consistent, nor am I organized. But I am trying.

I hope this is good. I know that it's not exactly what you asked for, but I tried to at least keep the concept. As I said, I had to rewrite the story, and it was exactly as you explained, but the way I had written it felt like it was never-ending, and it was just taking too long.

Words: 2.3K Words

It was about 10 PM when Buck was finally off the clock. He was finally able to kick back and relax after facing a very grueling 24-hour shift.

The past day had consisted of Buck suffering through small house fires, drunk drivers, and even vengeful exes. Luckily for Buck, everyone came back alive, some with injuries, but surely all still alive. They delivered a man who suffered 4 stab wounds, from a woman everyone suspected to now be his ex, to the hospital. And the 118 quickly, yet safely made their way back to the firehouse.

As soon as the truck was placed in park, Buck was quick to release himself from the safety of his seatbelt and out of the vehicle. He began to make his way to the locker rooms after stretching his arms and neck a little. “Another one bites the dust,” Buck spoke to himself with a small, happy smile.

Eddie came up behind Buck, clapping his hand on his shoulder, as he joined Buck on his walk to the locker room. “Buck,” Eddie called out. Buck turned his head to face the Latino. His smile grew on his face. “What made you so happy? Aren’t you tired?” Eddie asked, also smiling but with a questioning look.

Buck answered, “I am. I’m just happy that our shift’s over. This shift made me happy to realize that I am no longer Buck 1.0. I’ve matured into a Buck that I never thought I could be.” Buck’s hands moved sporadically, through the air, as he spoke. His line of sight was lost in the distance.

Eddie congratulated the younger man as they entered the locker room. Their conversation shifted to a different topic while the two changed out of their work uniforms.

Their conversation came to a halt when Bobby frantically stormed into the locker rooms. “Have any of you heard from Y/N? I found out some bad news, just now, and she didn’t come in for work.”

The two stared at the older man in concern. “She didn’t call in?” Buck asked, confused. Bobby shook his head.

“No. No, we haven’t heard anything,” Eddie spoke up. Bobby nodded his head with a sad smile before he walked back out of the locker room.

Buck and Eddie looked at each other with a scared look. “I’ll- um- I’ll check up on her,” Buck told Eddie. 

Eddie gave Buck a slight nod, to let him know that he understood. He grabbed his bag and started his way to the locker room doors. “Let me know what happens,” Eddie replies, then leaves.

Buck stayed behind. Something told him that something was wrong, and it all started when Bobby told him about Y/N not coming in. He grabbed his phone, unlocking it to see 10 unread texts from his friend, 5 missed calls, and 1 voicemail, all within the last hour.

Buck read through the texts. Most of the texts were about how much Y/N now hated her boyfriend after catching him cheating. Buck could tell his friend was drinking, because with every text, somehow, the words looked slurred. 

Buck felt his jaw clench as he read the text. He couldn’t believe that someone like Will, Y/N’s now-ex-boyfriend, could treat a person who is so sweet and caring like that. He didn’t deserve Y/N. No one did, in Buck’s mind. She deserved more than what the world has given her, and it seemed unfair that right now Y/N’s chugging down a bottle of something she’ll regret drinking in the morning, and Will’s off with some chick that Will deemed better than Y/N.

He moved off of messages and clicked on the “phone” app. He opened Y/N’s recent voicemail and was instantly upset when he heard her start to speak. “Heeeyyy, Buck,” she slurred. Buck grimaced at how drunk she already was. “I don’t know if you got my messages, but I don’t know what to do. I know you’re probably at work because we were all scheduled together, but can you come over when you get this?” It hurt Buck to listen to this. He could hear her beginning to cry, and he wasn’t there to comfort her. “I thought he loved me. He even proposed a week ago. But it seems all that was fake. He’s been going out with that fucking whore, behind my back for months, Buck. MONTHS. I thought he loved me…” She paused, and Buck looked down at his phone, taken aback by the vulgar language that was spewing out of her mouth.

 “…Fuck,” she cursed over the phone. “Shit… Fuck.” Buck didn’t know what was going on, but whatever was happening over the phone couldn’t have been good, based on her change in tone. Suddenly a loud thud was heard over the phone before the voicemail cut off. Buck looked through his phone to see if there was anything else, but the voicemail was the last thing he received from the girl.

Buck raced out of the locker room, in search of Bobby. But as soon as he got to the main floor, the bell had gone off, signaling an emergency in progress. Bobby rushed past Buck, but Buck was quick to grab his captain’s arm.

“Bobby, there’s something I have to tell you. It’s about Y/N,” Buck tried to speak but was cut off by Bobby.

“There’s an emergency at 128 West Lafayette St,” Bobby quickly said, hoping Buck would understand what he was saying. Luckily, he did. Buck’s eyes looked up at Booby in concern. “That’s Y/N’s address,” Buck said in dismay. Bobby only gave the younger man a nod as a reply. 

“Can I go with you guys?” Buck asked.

“I don’t know. We already lost too much time here talking-” 

“I’ll be quick,” Buck argued.

Bobby let out a small sigh. “Sure, but you have 5 minutes, and then we’re out,” Bobby agreed. And with that, Buck was off. He rushed back into the locker room and quickly applied his work uniform, and then back to the main floor where he and a few others threw on their fire protection gear before getting into the truck.

By the time the 118 made it to Y/N’s house, what dispatch described as a small fire, now covered half of Y/N’s small home. Buck watched as fire tried to escape the house through broken windows. It took almost everything in him not to jump out of the moving vehicle. He sat patiently, waiting for the driver to park the truck, so he could get out and save his friend. 

The truck stopped, and Buck practically flew out of the vehicle, not waiting for anyone. “Okay,” Bobby said outside the truck, calling everyone in, around him. “The fire is quickly escalating, so we need to quickly evacuate the building and get that fire out. Johnson, you, and Wilks will be putting the fire out from the top. Gomez and I will be on the ground, working to put out the fire. Buck and Todd, I want you to make sure every room in that house is clear. Got it.”

“Got it!” Everyone replied.

Everyone went their separate ways. Buck and Randall Todd, a fellow 118 member, headed into Y/N’s home. Buck had no clue where he was going. He only knew that Y/N was drunk before the call went dead and that she was upset. “I’ll get upstairs,” Randall said, earning a thumbs up from Buck.

Buck searched the living room, bathroom, and dining room before his walkie went off. “Cap upstairs is clear,” Buck heard Randall say from his walkie. It went off again, but this time Bobby spoke, “What about downstairs?” Buck grabbed his walkie and spoke, “All is clear, except for the kitchen. Heading that way now.”

He made his way to the kitchen, and the sight before him made him stop in his tracks. Y/N lay on the ground, a little ways away from the stove. Her head lay in a small pool of blood, meaning she hit her head hard.

Buck rushed over to the girl, giving her a little shake. “Y/N, hey, are you conscious?” Buck asked, slightly tapping the girl’s face. The girl stirred slightly under Buck’s grip. “Buck?” she murmured.

Buck grabbed his walkie and spoke into it, “I found Y/N, cap. She’s barely conscious. She hit her head really hard.”

“Bring her out, Buck.”

“Copy that.”

Before picking the girl up, Buck observed the area around the girl. On the counter next to her was an empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Buck had never seen or heard of the girl ever drinking that. In fact, he remembered Y/N specifically telling him that she’d rather die than be caught drinking that. Buck scoffed at the memory.

He bent down to grab the girl. His large hands swept under the girl to pick her up, but they quickly retracted when he heard something crunch under his feet. Glass sat spread across the floor next to the girl, leaving Buck to believe that she was carrying a glass in her hand when she fell. And on the other side of the girl, Buck found Y/N’s phone completely cracked.

Buck tried picking the girl up once more, coming out successful. He lifted her up, holding her in a bridal-like fashion, with his arms supporting her back and legs. Buck made his way out of the house, where he was met by Bobby and two paramedics from the 118. He placed the girl on the open gurney. 

Y/N stirred awake once more, this time longer than the last. The first thing she saw was Buck, which put a smile on her face. “Heeeyy, Buck,” She said. Buck frowned, remembering the voicemail that led him here. She shifted as her co-workers took note of her pulse and potential energies. 

When she finally got comfortable, she noticed Buck’s frown. She looked away from Buck, copying the same sad look Buck had shown. Her eyes shifted over to Bobby, who carried a look of disappointment. It took a second to realize why he was looking at her like that. She had brought back something in him that Bobby hated reliving.

She looked between the two and softly said, “I’m sorry.” Y/N couldn’t bring herself to look at either of the men, but they surely had their eyes on her. Buck grabbed the girl’s hand, caressing it with his thumb. “You have no reason to be sorry,” Buck spoke. 

Y/N shook her head “no” as she began to block out everything around her. The memories that led her to this moment in time all flashed through her eyes. She remembered everything. She remembered coming home from lunch with some friends to find Will lying in bed, her bed, sweaty, next to a girl Y/N did not know. She remembered throwing the engagement ring he had given her, just last week, in his face. She remembered kicking him out of the house, speeding to her closest liquor store and purchasing alcohol that she never thought she’d drink, and then going home and drinking until she couldn’t remember anymore.

“Y/N,” Buck called out, getting her attention. Y/N cried. She didn’t know what else to do. Everything hurt. Her body ached in pains she had never experienced before, and her heart was practically torn to shreds, so she just let it all out. 

“Y/N, Bobby and I are going to meet you at the hospital when all of this is done,” Buck said. His heart broke to watch the girl break down like this. He wiped a tear from her face before Andy and Samara, the two paramedics on duty, began to get Y/N into the ambulance. 

Bobby came up behind Buck and stared at the crying girl. “Go with her,” Bobby said. Buck spun around to face Bobby in shock. “What?” “You heard me,” Bobby argued. 

Buck scoffed, “I have to help with the fire.”

Bobby’s head tilted at the man in front of him, giving Buck a knowing look. “You’re off the clock. I let you come to make sure Y/N was fine, and I want you to do the job you were assigned. Plus, Y/N needs someone by her side. I’ve been where she’s been, and I wish there was someone like you that was by my side when I needed it most,” Bobby said, giving the boy a soft smile.

Buck saw the pain in Bobby’s eyes as he attempted and failed to not look at the girl in the ambulance, struggling to cope with what had happened. Bobby looked at the girl as if she were his daughter. He saw a lot of himself in her, and it pained him to have to watch her suffer to the point where it got this bad. So, Buck discarded the part of his uniform that belonged to the firehouse and handed them to Bobby. 

Bobby gave Buck an assuring look, putting a smile on Buck’s face. “Hey, wait up,” Buck called out to the paramedic that was trying to close the doors, so they could leave for the hospital. They opened the doors again, allowing Buck to jump in. Buck climbed in, sitting next to Y/N as she stared up at the ceiling of the truck with tears streaming down her face.

Buck’s hand met Y/N’s, and he squeezed it, letting her know that he was there for her. “It’s gonna be alright,” Buck whispered to the girl, but she didn’t respond. Her eyes stayed focused on the ceiling, not reacting to anything but her inner thoughts. But that didn’t stop Buck from comforting the girl. She’d been through a lot in 2 days, and Buck wasn’t going to add to that. Not that he wanted to either.

“You’ll be okay,” Buck said again, only louder. And he continued to remind her of that throughout her entire recovery, because it was a cry for help, and Buck wasn't going to ignore it.

IF YOUR USER IS IN RED, I COULD NOT FIND YOU. PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CONTACT ME IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE RE-ADDED OR REMOVED FROM MY TAGLIST.

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[thatbanditqueen]

Basic Training Ch 2

This is a new Elvis Fan Fic set during his basic training at Fort Hood WIP I am playing around with for the summer. Comment, reblog , tag and let me know what you think or if you would like to be added to the taglist.

Thanks to my ever alpha @whositmcwhatsit who read the rough draft and made it so much better. Thanks Jader Gator. I love you and I think you know that I go between being so in awe of your writing that it is paralyzing to being inspired to write just to get close to what you create.

There are so many good writers in our fandom, and I am lucky to be friends with a little group of horny elvis witches who put up with me, answer my random questions and help me figure out narrative roadblocks, so thanks, as ever, to my sister wives @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis for helping me write. You guys are so talented I feel lucky to breathe your air, you teach me everything.

Summary: Elvis surprises Bess at her office to thank her and gets to know some of the other women on post.

Word Count: 4.9 K

Warnings: None. Swear words? Handsy charming naughty Elvis?

I have formulas, tropes, motifs that I always go back to consciously or unconsciously.... whatever... as I was naming this chapter I realized how chapter two is always about the nicknames..... Here we go...

If you need to catch up, read Chapter 1: I Don't Date Soldiers here

Basic Training Chapter 2: Lil Moo Moo & Tupelo

Wednesday, April 2, 1958

1715 Hours (5:15 p.m.)

Fort Hood Front Office

“Oh, give me Burt Lancaster any day over Elvis Presley.”

Mabel’s eyes didn’t leave her work as she said this, not even when she placed her cigarette in the ashtray on her desk, the keys on her typewriter plunking up and down in her glasses’ reflection as she typed. Unflappable and wry, Mabel was a career civil servant with the commemorative lapel pins to match each milestone from her twenty six years and counting career at Fort Hood. Her light green metal desk was set in the center of the large outer room in the base’s front office, right in front of the CO’s door. Bess’s desk was to the right, across from the XO’s secretary Rose, who left everyday right at five o’clock on the dot. 

The other two women Bess shared an office with were almost polar opposites. Rose worked punctually from eight to five every day, while Mabel was always the first to arrive between 6:45 and 7, and often the last to leave, determined to stay on post until the CO left. 

Bess fell somewhere in-between, arriving most days with her father at 8 a.m. and then pushing him to leave as early as possible. But with her father out of town, Bess was mistress of her own destiny; a mistress who apparently couldn’t bear to leave until the final details for an awards ceremony tomorrow afternoon were hammered out. 

Which is why she was perched on the corner of Mabel’s desk at 5:15, or at least it had been before Dori arrived. Waiting for her father, the CO, to return from inspections, Dori had turned the conversation to her favorite topic of late: her quest to meet Elvis Presley. Tonight she was specifically wondering if he would come to the MWR dance that weekend. This had prompted Mabel's unsolicited preference for the tall, athletic physique of Burt Lancaster.

Dori giggled. “How many times did you see From Here to Eternity when it was in theaters, huh Mabel?”

“More than I’d care to admit, Ms. Crenshaw.” Mabel lowered her bifocals as she hit her typewriter keys slowly, looking down every few seconds at some hand written notes. “And every time they play it on TV or show it here.”

“And how many times did you see Jailhouse Rock, huh, Bess?” Dori teased.

Bess blushed. “Only once.”

Mabel paused her typing and picked up her cigarette again. “I have the feeling Bess has turned sour on those Presley pictures. You should have seen her last week, damn near punched a dent in her desk after a reporter ran her off the road.”

“Ah, no, Bess loves Elvis.” Dori checked her lipstick before putting her compact back into her purse. “She’s lying too. I remember seeing Jailhouse Rock with you and the soldier on duty said you’d been to our sweet 'lil ol base theater every night that week.”

Bess fixed Dori with a grimace, mumbling defensively. “That was Loving You, and I only saw it three times. People were talking through it the first two times.” She shifted, rolling her thigh over Mabel’s desk as she balanced herself. “I didn’t care for Jailhouse Rock, though, kinda thought the main character was a jerk.“

“Oh honey, that’s what made it so good.” Dori’s high voice vaulted up the ceiling “Don’t you just find him scrum-diddly-umptious actin’ all tough and mean, but then being hung up on his lil ole manager the whole time?”

Bess straightened the stack of files on her lap.

“No, Dori, I don’t care for quiet, mean, brooding types who can’t just be a man and tell me how they feel, playin' mind games instead. And, as for Elvis, honestly I can take him or leave him. There are twenty thousand men on this base.” Bess straightened her ponytail, balancing her files on her lap as she spoke. “Why, I could find you ten Mississippi tall boys who can play gee- tar and yodel at you before mail call is done…”

Bess’ voice trailed off when she noticed Dori gasp and cover her mouth with her hand, eyes wide with shock as she smacked Bess’ knee. Mabel whistled low, her eyes quickly fixing on her typewriter as Bess shifted around on the big desk.

“What? What is it….” Bess’ jaw fell open and dropped her files to the ground. She felt them slip over her skirt on their way, unable to stop them, it was as if she had forgotten how to use her hands. No, all she could do was cringe with embarrassment at Elvis’ downward smirk as his eyes flitted up to look at her.

“Oh cluck a fuck, I mean fuck a duck - I mean, oh cluck!” Bess heard herself cry out reflexively, then remembering how to move, she scrambled to pick up her papers. She was grateful for Dori’s unflappable poise as the blonde hopped over Bess’ hunched body on the ground and introduced herself to Elvis, adding:

“Please excuse my friend there, she flunked outta finishin’ school.”

Bess watched Elvis kiss Dori’s extended hand with mild amusement as she squealed and smiled and unleashed her excitement onto him, her hand already on his chest.

“I been prayin’ every day to run into you, Elvis - Oh, may I call you Elvis?”

“Yessum, I -”

“Oh good! See, I knew we’d be great friends, I just knew we would! I have been all over this base hopin’ to run into you. Why, we’re all just pleased as punch ta have ya round here, aren’t we?”

She turned to see Bess still on all fours, curly brown hair half loose from her ponytail, while behind her Mabel looked up and grunted softly in salutation before continuing to type. 

Mabel’s cranky glare and Bess’ antics on the floor did not create the mood Dori had envisioned for her first meeting with Elvis Presley. She looked down and her broad smile wavered for a moment as she realized the top button of Bess’ shirt was undone, revealing her bra completely. Dori’s painted pink lips popped as she nudged Bess with the tip of her heel and whispered through her teeth.

“Stand up, Bess honey, fo-ar gawd’s sake, ya shirt!”

Bess jumped up, fixing herself as a big red blush grew over her face, made worse as Elvis caught her eye with a wink. Mabel stopped typing for a moment and motioned for Bess to come and look at something while Dori kept right on talking to Elvis with her hand now firmly around his bicep.

“Now, don’t pay no mind to Bessie’s talk about you and your pictures, why, we’re all big Elvis fans round here, the biggest fans ya ever met.”

Elvis cocked his eyebrows up at Bess’ simmering glare from where she now stood behind Mabel’s chair.

“Huh, yeah, that’s sweet of ya, ma’am -”

Dori put her finger to Elvis' lip. “Dori, honey, puhleeze!”

“ - Uh, Dori.” Elvis’ spoke carefully, as if forming every word in the back of his throat before speaking out, his voice was soft and shy. “I don't s’pect everyone to like all my pictures. After all, I didn’t write them, it’s just a job to me.” He winked again at Bess. “S’pose I mind even less if they like some of my other movies. Like ‘em enough to see ‘em every night a tha week.”

Bess felt her cheeks redden even more, but before she could think of a clever reply, Mabel elbowed her and pointed at the XO’s handwriting.

“Can you read that? It looks like repercussion, but it could be reprimand as well.”

Bess picked up the legal pad for closer inspection and turned to the others, motioning for Dori to come take a look. She hadn’t expected Elvis to follow, but he did, making himself right at home and angling his tall body behind the women. 

He snuck his hand around Bess’ waist as he looked at the writing Dori held up for him, eyes forward and completely detached from the movements of his fingers rubbing along the waistband of Bess’ skirt until she pulled them off. This made her stumble to the side and gave Elvis an excuse to openly grab her waist and steady her, She frowned, flustered by the way his long fingers navigated the crease right where her waist met her ribs, his thumbs squeezing tightly and then rubbing gently over her as he asked if she was ok. 

Pushing Elvis’ hands away, Bess whispered that she was fine, trying to slow her pulse and still the shivers that ran up her spine. Her whole body trembled, aware of his proximity to her, and she refused to meet Dori’s now extremely curious eyes over Elvis’ shoulder. Nodding, he turned back to the others and helped himself to the paper, declaring that it was repercussion as he introduced himself to Mabel, kissing her hand, and asking her about the tiny, porcelain figurines on her desk as she giggled.

“That’s Lady and Lola, my brother brought them back to me from Japan. Are you a dog person, Private?”

Bess made her way back to her desk, taking in the youthful bloom of Mabel’s beaming face and girlish laughter. She had never seen her co-worker this cheerful and open before. Dori’s face was aghast as Elvis ignored her and made himself comfortable on Mabel’s desk, asking her for a cigarette and then turning with a conspiratorial whisper as he asked them not to tell anyone. 

Dori began tapping her fingers along her crossed arms harder as she watched Elvis put his hand on Mabel’s shoulder, while the older woman batted his thigh and chuckled at his jokes about dogs. Bess smiled to herself at the way Dori tried to wrest the conversation back by talking about how she used to have the sweetest lil ol’ poodle in the world when she was a girl. But it was an uphill battle, because now Mabel was pulling out her secret tin of homemade shortbread and asking Elvis what he thought. He had to try five pieces before he could adequately decide his verdict, and he moaned as if he had never had shortbread before. His voice was low as he stuttered “Mmm hmmm mmm hmm mmm” in a hum, and Bess dropped her pen when he caught her eye and licked his lips, proclaiming through crumbly mouthfuls that it was “the best doggone cookie he’d had in a long while.”

Bess shook her head at Elvis’ transformation from the shy soldier who had walked into the office to the confident, cocky rascal he was now, only minutes later. Elvis was masterful, she mused, and it was down to the attentive way he looked at each person he spoke with, talking to you as if you were the most important person in the world and responding to everything you said and did with his eyes. No, with his whole body really, she thought. He had a magnetic energy that had drawn her in the moment they met Friday. Now that same magnetic energy was doing its work on Dori and Mabel before her very eyes, as he engaged with them in a way that was humble, considerate and disarming. Some soldiers were stiff and uncomfortable here in the front office where there were often three to five women bustling about. Elvis on the other hand, seemed to be in his element amidst a group of women vying for his attention.

Bess found, to her own chagrin, that this included herself and was disappointed by her own desire to get his attention. She held out until she could no longer help it and interrupted their conversation with a loud, authoritative cough.

“I’m sure you didn’t come to our building to talk about puppy dogs and shortbread, Private, we don’t want to keep you from your tasks or the mess hall.”

Elvis turned to look at her from where he sat on Mabel’s desk and began throwing his olive patrol cap from hand to hand as he gulped.

“Uh, well ma’am, actually, I came up here hoping to get a word with you, Bessie. Uh, I mean Miss Schwartz.”

Now it was Bess’ turn to swallow and once again avoid Dori’s questioning eyes. Mabel’s eyes snapped down to her typing, her face back to being an expressionless stone wall.

“Sure thing, um, walk me to my car? I just, I was just about to leave, I just, uh, need to put these in the Commander’s office.”

As she walked back to her father’s desk, she heard Dori’s voice ring out behind her.

“I didn’t know you were acquaintances with Bessie. That busy bee, she really gets around this base, huh? I reckon she knows more soldiers than the rest of us combined.” Bess smiled to herself at Dori’s insinuation. “ Are you here to ask her to the dance?”

“Uh, no ma’am, Dori, Miss. I, uh, reckon it's better for me to keep a low profile this weekend, let the boys enjoy their night.”

“Well, you know, that attitude might give our boys the wrong impression, like. Make the guys think you fancy yourself too good for our simple, lil ole MWR dance.”

“Uh - well- “ Elvis’ face lit up when Bess rejoined them and they shared a lingering smile that Dori vowed to interrogate Bess about later.

“Oh let him be, Doreen,” Bess murmured, her voice breathy as her heart fluttered once more at the depth of Elvis’ knowing, penetrative gaze. “Uh, he, uh, the boy, man, the man clearly doesn’t want to go. And he already knows that I don’t go on dates with soldiers.”

Mabel had stopped working again and was now chewing the edge of her glasses, leaning forward on her chin as if she was watching a soap opera unfold in front of her desk.

Dori pursed her lips and placed her right hand on her hip energetically. “Oh he does now?” She said playfully, flouncing up the bottom of her blonde bob. ”Well, Private, you’re in luck, because I do date soldiers. I’ll pick you up at 8.”

Elvis looked to Dori, then back at Bess, his confused expression transforming into a smirking wide smile as he registered Bess’ frown. Bess looked down, picking at a chipped piece of her thumb nail until it came off, as if it was the most important thing in the world and needed her attention immediately.

“Huh, well, whoo boy.” Elvis eyed Bess again, then his lips screwed up into a wider grin as he chuckled mischievously. “I don’t hardly know ya, but I can’t say as that’s ever stopped me before.”

Bess’ heart did a series of flip flops as she watched Elvis laugh with Dori. She wasn’t sure what she disliked more, the fact that her friend had just maneuvered herself into a date with Elvis, or that she was jealous. Bess decided it was the later and that she would will herself not to care. 

Elvis' eyes flickered over her for a second and Bess suddenly had a sense that he could tell exactly what she was thinking and feeling in that moment, and she returned to picking at her thumb nail. She was vaguely paying attention as she heard Dori tell Elvis that she’d meet him up at his barracks Saturday night, but she thought Elvis smirked wider as he took in the smile that she forced her lips into.

“You’ll be there, won’t you, Bess. Even though you don’t date soldiers?” Dori looked at her, adding another few fluffs to her hair for absolutely no good reason.

“Hmmmm. Well, I usually do, since the CO encourages all the single female employees to go, but I did have some research st—”

“Don’t be silly, of course you’ll come, it’s gonna be so much fun. I can already tell. There’s gonna be a live rhythm and blues band we hired in from Houston. They are just the bee’s knees, and I’m on the MWR committee. My theme for this dance is Spring Fling, cuz it’s spring! The decorations we got are so adorable, floral Chinese lanterns y’all. I cannot wait.” Dori squeezed her hands into fists and did a little dance in place.

Elvis turned back to Mabel. “You comin’ Saturday night, Miss Maybelline?”

Mabel giggled like a school girl instead of the fifty year old woman she was.

“Every one I can make it to, CO’s memo encourages all single women on base to attend.”

Elvis took Mabel’s hand in his, softly trailing over the top as he kissed her knuckles and smiled devilishly as she giggled again.

“Well, be sure ta save a few dances for me, mmkay, honey?”

Mabel nodded with a giggle and a wink. 

Elvis’ cocky smiled followed Bess' curt nod out of the office and into the back stairs of the building where her voice echoed down the concrete stairwell.

“You know Private, I really wish you wouldn’t come to my office unannounced.” She paused two steps below him and turned around so he had to stop himself from slamming into her finger as it pointed back at him.

“Hold on a minute there, baby, now, what’s wrong with being friendly?” He grabbed her finger. “Careful where you point that thing, woman. First lesson of basic training is safety. Thought you’d a know by now.” He grasped her hand and softened it into his fist. She seemed to lose her train of thought looking up into his eyes. “What’s got your panties in a twist, Bessie Boo, you ain’t jealous, are you?”

Elvis was decidedly less polite when they were alone, Bess realized. She wasn’t sure she liked it, or the way it made her feel as she pulled her finger away and kept descending down the stairs in front of him, her voice a little shaky.

“Of Dori? No, no, not at all. In fact, that all seems to have worked out the way it should.” She shoved the door at the bottom open and headed toward her car as Elvis’ long legs made easy work of striding next to her.

“Why’s that?”

Bess turned as she got to her car.

“Cuz, well, you seem like a good match.” She smiled, trying to really mean it, trying to keep her voice cool and nonchalant. “Dori, is, well, she seems to have the sort of, um. Well, that is, she’s very glamorous. And popular. And attractive. She’s a lot like the girls you’re always with in the fan magazines. I think you’ll have a lot of fun.”

Elvis stepped closer, fixing his work cap back on his head. “So you read the fan magazines, huh? Thought you could take or leave Elvis Presley.”

Bess didn’t know if her cheeks could take the constant flushing she was experiencing. She leaned into the hood of her car, changing the topic as she spoke to the blue paint.

“Look, why did you come by my office?”

Bess leaned her back into the car, and he reached out for her waist, rubbing his hands along the sides for a moment, before taking the handle next to it and pulling it open, tilting his head to get in.

“I uh, I came by because I wanted to thank you. Think we could just talk for a spell?"

Bess swallowed and nodded. After a few moments searching, she discovered her tongue where she had left it on the roof of her mouth and did her best to eke out intelligible words. They scooted along the white vinyl car bench until Elvis got to the other side and leaned back, stretching out his arms and looking at her.

“I know'd it was you that talked to Sergeant Norwood.”

Bess looked down. “I, ugh, actually. That would be highly inappropriate of me to talk to a senior instructor in your company and ask for any special treatment.” She looked back up at him. “But, um, how’s it going?”

Elvis grinned wide. “He’s, uh, well, he’s instruction’ alright,  instructed me to come over to his house here on post after dinner most nights. He, uh, well, I uh, he lets me use his phone to call home and get a few hours of shut eye at their place. Though I preferred the bed at your house, Bessie bug. Cushioning there was better.”

Bess let out a snort as Elvis slid down to put his head in her lap, just as it had been that first night in her guest room. He pulled her right hand in his over her chest, threading his fingers through hers as he looked up into her face with apt admiration.

“Ya are the first real friend I’ve made here.”

“Hmmm. Seemed like you were doing all right making new friends upstairs.”

Elvis smirked, his squeezed his fingers between hers.

“You are jealous a Dori. Jus say tha word and I’ll take you to the dance too, baby. I could take both of you as my dates, ya know, nuff a me ta go ‘round.”

Bess tried to take her fingers back, but it was a half-hearted attempt and his hand was so much bigger than hers. Resigned, she squeezed back and sighed, looking out the window.

“Ha, I’m sure. But, no, I’m not jealous, I’m just giving you a hard time, Presley. You sure seem like a fast operator.” Bess felt an aching warmth blossom in her belly as his thumb rubbed the inside of her palm.

“Honey, I didn’t operate nothing, I’m just an innocent bystander caught in the eye of Hurricane Dori. If anyone is operatin’ fast, it’s your friend back there.”

“Yeah, well, you have to forgive her, she had a lot more going on in Savannah than she does here. We are sorely lacking in ladies’ charities and fancy galas for her to host. So Dori gets all pent up, all that energy and nothing to do with it. Maybe you can help wear her out. " Bess arched her eyebrows suggestively, her voice was light and teasing. "By dancing, I mean, of course.”

“Huh, sure. How ‘bout you? Will you have any pent up energy ya wanna dance off with an ol’ friend?”

“Ha, I’m about as old a friend to you as Dori is.”

“Nah, honey, you’re different, we go way back now. I don’t know anyone who’d risk their job to take a po’ boy like me home an feed me an’ take care a me so good.”

Elvis' eyes welled up and Bess softened, thinking he might cry. She found herself soothing the top of his forehead with her left knuckles.

“Hey, ssshhh, hey. You would have done the same for me, right? If our roles were reversed and I was a new recruit being trained for combat?”

The left side of Elvis’ face lifted into a crooked grin. Bess was transfixed watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“Course, course I would. You know, I’ve spent the last two years running from women chasing me, I reckon the Army’d be in better shape if they’d put ya girls into combat. Ain’t nothing more terrifying than a hoard of twenty thousand screaming girls coming for ya.”

“Ha, yeah, probably makes basic training seem like a breeze.”

Bess smiled down at Elvis, and made her fist into a fake microphone, affecting a serious, transatlantic accent like the reporters at his press conference last week.

“So, Private Presley, what do you think, is basic training harder or easier than running from women for a living?”

Elvis chuckled. His right hand let go of Bess’ fingers and snaked around her waist. “Well, ain’t nothing like getting clobbered by a swarm of women. I s’pose the main difference between those girls and the Russians is, they don’t mean to hurtcha. They’re just tryin’ to get themselves a piece of ya for a souvenir.”

Bess’ raised one eyebrow, her reporter microphone hand still at attention.

“Oh? Please tell us, the American people want to know, which piece of you are these girls trying to get their hands on?”

Elvis burst out laughing. “Uh, no comment, though I could show you later if you want.”

Bess blushed at the glint in his eyes, and kept talking. “Hmm, fresh. Next question, how devastating was it to get your haircut?”

“Well, now, that didn’t bother me none at all. You know what they say, hair today, gone tomarra."

He paused, grinning at her tepid "Ha. ha. ha."

"But no, I ain't sore. Now, if it weren’t never gonna grow back, yeah, sure, maybe I’d be sore, but I don’t mind following the rules and cutting my hair like all the other boys here. I’m actually starting to like it.”

Bess combed her fingers through his crew cut.

“MMhmmm. I liked it better long, but you know me, I hate soldiers.”

“Picked a weird place to work then, Bessie, ain’t nothing but soldiers here.”

“This is just temporary, till I figure out what’s next for me.”

Elvis looked down towards his knees, speaking softly. “Yeah, jus temporary. That’s what my manager keeps sayin’, but man oh man, I think it’s all over for me. Ain’t no one gonna remember me in two years.”

“That’s not true. Trust me, it just feels that way. How many records you sold?”

Elvis leaned his face into her fingers as they cupped his cheek, he could feel Bess’ thighs tremble slightly underneath her skirt and it made him smile. He looked up at her big brown eyes sheepishly.

“Oh, I don’t know, ‘bout 25 million I s’pose.” His voice was casual and aloof til he cried out at the smack of Bess’ hand hitting his shoulder.

“Ha, I would have guessed 4 or 5 million. 25? I can’t even picture a stack that high. It would go all the way to the moon, probably. You’re thick, you know that? Like we could forget you with all those records out there, spinning 'round in people’s homes, on the radio. No, I think the Russians would have to bomb us to kingdom come before we forget about you, what with 25 million records playing all over. ”

“You’re sweet, Bess, you know that? My uncle used to have a cow named Bess.” He grinned up at her and made a moo sound. “Lil' Bessie Moo Moo, she was sweet, just like you… Moo Moo.” His voice tapered off as Elvis' hand began to trail up the side of Bess’ body. His voice became low and earnest. “She had the sweetest milk.”

Bess shivered at the touch of his fingers before pulling her head toward him. Just as she was an inch away from his lips, she stopped him, and tilted back up, fake microphone fist in her hand again between their faces.

“And, I know our listeners will want to know this important detail, where exactly was this cow, Private, Memphis?” She was the reporter again, and her heart thumped with a beat of regret as she took in the split second of disparagement that played across his face as she lifted her lips away from his. But then it was gone and he was back to playing cool with a grin. 

“Nah, back in Tupelo where I was borned and raised.”

“Tupelo, huh? Well, tell us Presley, why does all the good rock and roll music come from that part of the country, places like  Mississippi, Tennessee?”

Elvis nestled his head back into Bess’ thighs, scrunching up his lips as he thought.

“Don’t know, I guess we jus have a history of it, it's a place where ya got Black rhythm and blues and country and western, spiritual music. It's in the air we breathe down there, I guess, gets all jumbled up and out comes rock ‘n’ roll.”

“Well, Private, is rock n’ roll the secret weapon we’ve all been waiting for to take down communism and restore civilization to Eastern Europe and Russia? And if so, when are you being sent over enemy lines?”

“Now, maybe you’re on ta something there, pretty sure it’s already destroyed civilization state side.”

“Oh, definitely, the very fabric of our society is crumbling, just ask any parent and they’ll tell you that their teenager hates school and wants to have sex, all because of rock ’n’ roll. No teenager ever felt that way before they heard your music.”

“Huh, you’re a smart ass, you know that?”

“I’ve been a smart ass since you met me. Try to keep up, Tupelo.”

“Huh, yeah, ya a piece of work, lil' Moo Moo. And ya asking for it talkin’ to a man like that.”

Elvis pinched her soft, springy sides as he chuckled. Anyone walking by the blue Ford would have only seen Bess’ silhouette sitting up, head tilted back in a deep, guttural laugh for the first time in almost a year, as Elvis lay back in her lap, tickling and pinching her. They sat in her car for another hour, as Bess fussed over a cluster of razor burn below his ear, and he asked her about her life, getting to know as much about her as she was willing to reveal until she had to push him off her lap to go meet Sargeant Norwood, dismissing his offer to come back to her house and show her that souvenir all the gals were chasing after

************************************************************************

Read Chapter Three Here

@eliseinmemphis @moonchild-daniella @tacozebra051 @ab4eva @kingdomforapony @everythingelvispresley @richardslady121 @dkayfixates @artlover8992 @peskybedtime @freudianslumber @amydarcimarie @toreigh @notstefaniepresley @18lkpeters @yynneessmons @lookingforrainbows @prompted-wordsmith @roadtogracelandx45 @ashtag2887 @literally-just-elvis-fics @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @returntopresley @girlblogger2002 @rjmartin11

[moonbeam-writing]

♡ Day Two: Sleep Aid ♡

❥ Characters: Gaara Sabaku (Naruto)

❥ Contains: Brief mentions of death; Fluff; Gaara being stubborn; Use of/Allusion to They/Them pronouns; SFW

❥ Quick Note: I'm literally so bad at endings, I am so sorry, haha.

❥ Word Count: 775

— ♡ —

The last few days had been enough to make the term "emotional rollercoaster" an understatement.

In that short amount of time, (Y/N) had lost the love of their life to Akatsuki members, watched as one of their best friends almost died, and saw someone sacrifice themselves to bring the love of their life back. In short, (Y/N) was exhausted. And if they were exhausted, (Y/N) knew that Gaara was, too. Now with Shukaku not being in his body, Gaara could sleep and finally get the rest he so deeply deserved. Though just because he could, did that mean that he would?

Gaara was, undoubtedly, the most stubborn person (Y/N) had ever met. Even after his outlook on life and the lives of others changed, Gaara still held on to the need to feel in control, specifically of himself. Sleep was going to be one of Gaara's biggest adjustments, aside from how quiet his head was, and (Y/N) was determined to help him.

"Lord Kazekage, can I come in?" (Y/N) gently knocked on the door, looking out one of the windows at the darkening sky. After hearing a muffled 'yes,' (Y/N) stepped into Gaara's office, immediately dropping any formality they previously had. "Hi, Gaara." They smiled, stepping further into his office.

"Hello, (Y/N)." By some stroke of luck, Gaara looked up at them from his paperwork and leaned back in his chair. (Y/N) quietly walked closer to his desk, looking him over in the process. He looked just as exhausted as he had since he came home. "What are you doing here? It's late."

"Oh, so you acknowledge that it's late?" They teased, though he didn't acknowledge it. "Come on, you're done working for the night."

Gaara continued to look at (Y/N) with a blank stare as they leaned their hands against his desk, leaning towards him. "You know I can't do that. I have work to catch up on." Despite knowing and wanting to get caught up, Gaara let a sigh slip through his nose, leaning further against his chair. "You don't though. You should get home."

"Actually, you're wrong!" Gaara raised a nonexistent eyebrow at (Y/N) as they rounded the desk, creeping further into his space. He might not be vulnerable enough to say it out loud, but Gaara was happy to see (Y/N) and to have them so close. "I still have a job to do, and that job is to take you home so you can rest." Gaara's mouth opened, prepared to protest when (Y/N) quickly shook their head. "Nope, none of that! Come on," (Y/N) held out their hand to him, "pretty please?"

(Y/N) and Gaara sat there quietly looking at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Gaara was still pressed against his chair, teal eyes looking up at the person in front of him. (Y/N)'s eyes were looking at the Kazekage expectantly, a smile on their lips and their right palm facing up, just waiting for him to take their hand. At this point, (Y/N) would even settle for Gaara just lying down. They'd prefer if he slept a little, but they would take what they could get.

(Y/N) frowned. "Gaara, seriously. I'm worried about you. You can't spend all 24 hours working anymore. I know it's gonna be hard, but you can sleep now. Hell, you should already be resting considering you're still recovering." (Y/N) took their outstretched hand and carefully grabbed one of Gaara's. "You don't even have to sleep, and I'll do all the work for you, and we don't even need to leave your office– just, please." (Y/N) looked at the hand they were holding, hating how desperate they probably sounded, but they decided that it was worth it if they got their point across.

Feeling a small squeeze against their hand, (Y/N)'s eyes looked back to Gaara's. "Okay."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened when they registered his words, their previously held grin coming back. "Yay! Thank you, Gaara!" He nodded at them, letting them "lead" him to the couch in his office that had never served a purpose before. As soon as he sat down, one of (Y/N)'s arms went around his shoulder, their hand pulling Gaara into them, acting as a pillow.

Neither of them shared their thoughts, but they were both shocked at (Y/N)'s lack of hesitation. Despite that shock, neither of them complained, choosing to enjoy the quiet of the room, both pairs of eyes growing heavier by the second.

[my-heart-beat-for-anime]

A story request for jack salter, where the reader is a pilot in the rival team and between her and jack is not only rivalry but a continuous teasing because they are secretly in love with each other.

Thank you in advance for the story🫶🏻

Thank you so much for your request. I Hope you like it. Also english is not my first language so I am sorry for mistakes.

I stood next to Jack on the track and watched the young gamers run laps to get stronger. I felt sorry for them, they had been running for a long time, Jack kept shouting at them to add more. I finally talked Jack into giving them a break when one of the boys threw up on the lawn. When it was just the two of you on the track, Jack sighed.,, Ahh why did I just take this job" I just giggled and rested my head on his shoulder.,, You took this job because you have a chance to help someone improve their life and also prove that money doesn't make you a good racer." he smiled at you and gently kissed your head.,,You're right as always." I just laughed and nodded. Suddenly a wave of nostalgia hit me.,,This all brings back memories."

Flashback

My race is about to start in a little while, I was just trying to calm down when they called me from outside that it was time. I got out of the trailers when I saw the other competitors here. "Hey, woman, you're going in the wrong direction, the kitchen is over there." This was exactly the behavior I expected, not everyone received you well, and some even felt determined that a woman should ride with them on the same track. I just brushed my hand over their behavior and went on my way starting box.

I was getting last minute instructions from my trainer. Finally, it was time to start the race. Together with many competitors, I went to the track for a warm-up lap. I was zig-zagging and trying to warm up the tires as best I could and then the green light came on and the race started. Everything was going well, I was slowly getting to the front of the race, overtaking all those who were mocking me, I had just worked my way up to third place and I only had two laps left until the end of the race. We were just in a section where there were a lot of turns, so I got the opportunity to remake the racer in advance. I tried to overtake the first competitor, but it was not possible. Every time I tried to make a maneuver, he blocked me, and in the end I finished in second place.

*Jack pov*

I finished in first place, but the competitor behind me was pretty hot on my heels, if we had more laps, she would probably have overtaken in the end. When they officially announced the winner and the second and third place, they asked the competitors to come to the podium and that's when I saw her. She took off her helmet and let her hair down, she was beautiful and, judging by the fact that she finished in second place, talented too. After they gave us medals and gave a speech, we went back to our caravans.When I saw her again she smiled at me and waved.,, Hey what's your name?" She called .,, uhhh .. Jack Salter and how about you." she smiled softly and said,,Y/N L/N it's good to know the name of the man I'll be trying to defeat." she said holding out her hand.,,Only in your dreams." I said shaking her hand.

And so began our rivalry period where we tried to outdo each other but in the end we developed feelings for each other.

A big 24-hour race (I forgot its name) was waiting for us. Jack and I wished each other good luck and the race began. Everything was going well when suddenly the racer in front of Jack lost control of the car and crashed into the barriers. The guardrails fell a short distance from Jack's car, causing it to catch fire.I just managed to stop my car before I hit something too. The road was unpleasant, so there was no point in trying to continue the race. As soon as I stopped I tried to get out of my car. When I managed to do it, I ran to Jack's car.,,Jack, are you okay, Jack, please answer." I shouted when I ran to the car. There was coughing from inside, so I tried to open the car door. Finally, I managed and I helped Jack out of the car, I also quickly helped him take off his burning gloves.,,Are you alright, are you hurt somewhere?" I asked him with fear in my voice, "No, I feel fine, you don't need to cry." I didn't realize that I was crying until that moment. I wiped my face with my hand and I said in a trembling voice, "I was so worried about you, for a while I thought I lost you." I sniffed. "That wouldn't happen, I'll always come back to you." he said looking into my eyes."I love you Y/N." he said and gently caressed my cheek. Even though I was still crying I smiled, "I love you too." Jack slowly leaned in and kissed me. After Jack was taken to the hospital, I returned to the cafe where my trainer was waiting. "Not a word," I said. But the coach just nodded his head and said I should watch the news. There was a video of me kissing Jack on almost every channel. My whole face turned red and I turned off the TV. End of Flashback Since then I started dating Jack and it was the best stage of my life. We are now working together on the Gran Turismo project and I couldn't be happier. Teaching what I love with the man I love is a dream come true.

If you have request please I will be more than happy to write it.

[aniron48]

Love Letters - Day 1

Happy February, friends. After the January I’ve had, I wanted to do something lighthearted and fun this month, and I happened to get polls this week, so I decided a 00Q “choose your own adventure” might fit the bill! This one will start tonight, and there will be a story update with a CYOA plot-determining poll every night around this time for a little over a week. If I time it right and you chaos muppets don’t take the plot in a completely wild direction, the last poll will be the night of 2/13 in my time zone (EST), and on 2/14 (I know I know Valentine’s Day yes) will be the epilogue/wrap up.

The CYOA poll will be open for 24 hours, starting now! I’ll make sure to link to the previous day’s post in each new post, so you can follow along. Have fun! I can’t wait to see what you do!

By the time the fifth text from Q arrived, Bond could see the writing on the wall well enough.

He’d purchased the dodgy in-flight wifi on the trip from Bogotá to London in no small part so he could receive Q’s updates from his biweekly wine-and-film nights with Moneypenny. In Bond’s experience, Q had a tendency to get increasingly tipsy as the night wore on, and in the three months they’d been dating, Bond had quickly learned that it brought him no end of amusement to save screenshots of the texts to tease Q about when the opportunity presented itself. He was particularly fond of the shade of pink, a shade not otherwise occurring in nature, that Q’s cheeks turned when Bond confronted him with a particularly lascivious text, like the one from the Roman Holiday film night a month ago that read simply, “Gregory Peck cld ride me like that Vespa.” Q had threatened to steal Bond’s phone and blow it up. Bond had threatened to have the text embroidered on a pillow.

But tonight, it appeared something had gone terribly wrong, because Q’s texts were becoming more, rather than less, clear as the night wore on, with increasingly pristine grammar and punctuation. 

“I don’t know what made the studio think they ought to do a remake of Persuasion when the BBC version from the 90s was perfect” was the first sign that the evening had gone downhill. By the time Bond got the text decrying the remake as an “offense against nature and Jane Austen,” it appeared some sympathy was in order.

“I’m appalled to hear it,” Bond typed. “What a shame.”

Three dots appeared, stopped, and reappeared as Q typed out a message.

“You’ve never seen the BBC version at all, have you???”

Bond rubbed absently at the scruff on his cheeks—he’d had no time to shave before catching his flight—and considered his response.

[stusbunker]

The Places We Hide Coda

A Smutty Coda for the 2022 DCBB fic The Places We Hide

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Human!Castiel

Summary: Dean is not waiting until they make it to California to break this tension. No matter how fucked up his leg or how awkward the conversation.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: ~5k

Warnings, etc: First time together, first time after a divorce, safe sex talk, but not in proper order, injured sex, oral, anal play, anal, Dean overthinks a lot of things, and likes things in his mouth. This is lovemaking, okay?

Read on AO3

This can totally be read as a stand alone fic, I fill in the spaces between the dots as it goes.

HUGE shout out to @thoughtslikeaminefield​ and @lastactiontricia​ for their support with this fic. Thank you to @there-must-be-a-lock​ for logistical help as well. xoxo Stu

    Dean stares at the shelf in unfocused paranoia. He feels exposed under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the chain pharmacy and fumbling through the family planning aisle like a teenager on his way to prom, isn’t helping his nerves. He shifts on his crutches and exhales. 

    Cas is waiting in the car.

    Cas.

    The guy that fell into his life a year ago and is somehow determined not to leave Dean behind. Dean swallows and grabs the generic brand lube and a box of the good condoms. He makes his way to the check out and grabs two energy drinks from the cooler along the way. The next stretch of their drive is gonna be a bitch, and he needs something to cushion his purchase.

    Once it’s his turn, he unloads everything with a perfunctory greeting.

    The cashier is a wrinkled, unfazed, blue haired lady. She asks if he wants to buy their promo candy without so much of a hint of caring about what else Dean’s buying. He does because, ‘yeah, sure why not,’ is all the decision making ability he has at this point of the night.

    He deals with the card reader. Then, finally, she hands him the bag and tells him to have a good night. And that’s when she winks. 

    Dean drops the bag and fumbles, “why— well, you too, uh, Doris. Thanks— thanks again.”

    She hands the bag back to him, biting her lips in amusement.

    He straightens his shoulders, hooks the bag on his wrist and works on crutching out of the automatic doors. Cas is scrolling through his phone in the passenger seat and from this angle he’s all dark hair, brooding eyebrows, and pouty lips.

    Dean is so screwed.

    Or he will be.

    Hopefully.

    Oh, Christ they haven’t even talked about this yet. He doesn’t even know what Cas likes— if he—-. Then the click of the metal of his crutches reminds him of his eviscerated Achilles’. Yep, well, looks like Dean’s catching.

    For now.

    He swallows and wills his dick to relax as he makes his way to his car. With his boyfriend in it. Or—- roommate at least. They haven’t really talked about any of it.

    Fuck.

    Dean leaves the bag on the footwell in the backseat toppled by his crutches, before he shuffles to the driver’s door and lowers himself down and over. Easier every time, he thinks.The familiar cradle of Baby’s front seat relaxes him immediately and Dean smirks over at Cas as he looks up and realizes Dean’s waiting for him now.

    “Any luck?”

    “Well, there’s a Motel 6 near the interstate, or the truckstop that offers 24 hour showers, but I think— or what I would prefer, at least, is—”

    “Hey, just tell me where to go, you don’t hafta sell me on a warm bed,” Dean tries to reassure. But Cas goes quiet and Dean is still waiting. The colored lights of the pharmacy sign hover over the dash and Dean shifts in place, thumb drumming on the steering wheel as Cas types on his phone.

    “Sorry, it’s Charlie,” he grumbles with annoyance. “You’d think she’d have time to worry about her own plans for the evening.”

    Dean isn’t sure he was meant to hear the last part. Then Cas looks up and around and points. “West for four blocks, then it’s a right hand turn.”

    They check in and get the standard double queen, which shows how tired Dean is that he isn’t pointing out the irony. Instead he shoves his duffel on one of the beds and drops onto the hideous coverlet of the second in a dramatic show of exhaustion.

    “How’s your leg?” Cas asks, carefully lining up his suitcase next to Dean’s bag before bending over to untie his bulky hiking boots.

    “Still kicking,” Dean sighs and rolls over, propping his head up on his hand as he watches Cas settle in. Cas pulls his fleece over his head and his undershirt rides up to flash Dean some stomach. The guy is fit, so much leaner than he was when Dean found him in the woods, half frozen and bleeding out. 

Now Dean kind of wants another reminder of how strong Cas is after all that physical therapy. One where he isn’t hauling Dean’s ass out of a wendigo’s lair.

“You got a preference?” Dean asks, without any hinted significance.

“On?” Cas’ low voice almost buzzes.

“Side of the bed?”

“Oh,” Cas catches up, but Dean’d put money on there being something disappointing about the clarification. “Uh, I prefer to be close to the window, I like a slight breeze.”

“It’s November.” Dean reminds him. “But, uh, that actually works, I need to be by the door.”

“Need?” Cas asks as he drops down beside Dean, hand easily finding Dean’s and tracing each one of his fingers.

    “Closest to the exit or any threat,” Dean explains, swallowing down a happy sigh as Cas begins to massage his palm with strong, sure thumbs.

    "Always the hero,” Cas replies lowly.

    “Look who’s talking,” Dean quips, unwilling to let the earnestness of Cas’ words affect him. Cas’ whole face droops and his eyes seem to sparkle in the otherwise awful orange glow of the entryway light. “Come here.”

    Dean pulls Cas to his side, holding Cas’ hand over his heart and kissing him like he did the first time. Was that only last week?

    It feels like a lifetime ago, with the surgeries and the doctors and the stink of antiseptic and death. But somewhere in there, Dean got to keep Cas. And Charlie too.

    He nudges into Cas, drawing him closer until they’re both laying down. Dean teases the small of his back, where Cas’ shirt is bunched again. He sucks in a breath and suddenly Cas’ tongue takes over. Dean opens for him, welcoming it all.

    It’s easy like this, no thoughts about the hows and whys and what are we actually. Just the feel of Cas against him, the molten heat of his mouth and the way his stubble burns as he drags it down Dean’s neck, nipping as he goes. Dean’s hand is splayed between Cas’ shoulders now, a touchstone as Cas starts to find Dean beneath his layers.

    Dean lets himself be found.

    It’s just what he does with Cas. And only Cas.

    Months of him stalking through the woods before he found the cabin and then he just kept coming back. Dean could only send him packing so many times before he just wedged himself inside Dean’s life. Inside his soul.

    Damnit. Dean pulls back for air, eyes burning, he blinks back the onslaught. He grunts as he sits up and hauls his shirts off his back, giving way to skin on skin. Distracting Dean from the very blatant reality that he’s in love— capital L— love with Cas.

    Dean grabs Cas by the waist and drags them both up to the pillows. He strokes up and down Cas’ sides as Cas decides how best to straddle Dean with his injured leg seeming to take up half the bed. Then Dean gets his mouth back on him and thinking and positions are once again forgotten.

    He holds Cas down, but when he tries to rut up against him his leg screams and everything goes white. Instantly the solid weight of Cas is gone and Dean is being babied once again.

           "It's fine. I just gotta—-". Dean rolls and sits at the end of the bed.

           "Dean? We don't have to—-."

            He knows. But he also knows that if they spend another eight hours in the car tomorrow without doing anything about this thing between them, he's going to cause an accident. He leans over and starts reaching for his crutches.

           "Oh, we're doing this. I just gotta get situated— make a pitstop—," he explains or tries to, because Cas is all kiss swollen and concerned with his little head tilt.

           And then he's helping Dean up, like Cas needs to know Dean's steady as much as Dean needs him there. Dean inhales. 

          "Uh, I grabbed some stuff at the store if you want to get it out. I'll just be— just a minute." Dean walks away, neck hot and bashful, but still hard and heavy in his jeans

          He goes through the motions. Gives himself a cursory cleaning and tries not to get carried away fingering himself open. He knows Cas will want to too, and the thought of Cas' fingers make his insides churn and his dick weep. He pulls his boxers back up, but leaves his single boot and jeans in a heap under the sink.

          Dean washes his hands and gives himself a once over in the mirror. He hasn't really looked at himself since he shaved for Cas' going away dinner. His face is drawn and the stitches on his ribs are starting to itch, but he's still got it. And he smirks to remind himself of that fact.

         Okay.

          Cas is laying on his back nibbling on the pack of pretzel M&Ms that are resting against his solid chest. He's down to plain white boxers, while the lube and a string of condoms are set out on the bedside table between the stick light and the hotel phone.

          "Hey! I was saving those," Dean snips.

          Cas rolls his eyes and finishes chewing. He sits up and hands the rest of the candy to Dean. But Dean just uses the wrapper as leverage and pulls Cas up for a quick kiss.

          "I wasn't sure how long you'd be," Cas apologizes.

           Dean cocks an eyebrow and looks down at both of their clothed cocks before replying. "Yeah, but you at least thought about it."

           Cas huffs out a single laugh before cupping Dean over his underwear. He leans in close and whispers in Dean's ear, "I think we both have."

          How is he so sexy? He's this weird, nerdy guy who wears neon all the time! Dean shudders at the rumble of Cas' voice against him and then he's dropping down to the floor. Leg be damned because, fuck yeah, he's thought about Cas too.

         "What are you? Dean! No, you don't— not like that. On the bed at least, Jesus," Cas reprimands, dragging Dean up and stowing away his crutches so they're close enough to grab— later. Much later.

         He pushes Dean's shoulders so he's sitting on the bed. And then Dean catches up. He hugs Cas around the middle and kisses him on the ribs, up over a nipple and on to the other one. His hands stroke up and down Cas' thick back, loving the way the muscles tense and relax as Cas tilts Dean's head back and kisses him filthy. 

        Cas has Dean's head in both hands and it's like Dean's lips are held up on a platter for him—- presented to be devoured. Cas has never looked so hungry and Dean's mouth goes dry. He swallows against the lingering taste of chocolate and clears his throat.

       "Can I now?" Dean asks, teasing the waistband of Cas' shorts.

       "No, I think we better do you first. I don't want this to go too quickly." Cas says, perfectly reasonable. Like Dean's mind didn't just have to change gears. His dick perks up though, selfish traitor.

      "Uh—,"

      "Lay down, however, is most comfortable for your leg," Cas says clinically

       Dean rocks back and uses his core to kick his legs onto the bed. He reaches over and grabs a pillow, folds it in half because hotel pillows are crap and tucks it beneath his calf, right above his boot, bypassing any weight on the actual injury. He folds one arm behind his head and looks at the ceiling then back at Cas, just in time to see him bend out of those choir boy boxers.

       Fuck.

       Then he sees them. He'd been too caught up with all the feelings that he hadn't noticed Cas' scars. They're chunky and pink and the one by his clavicle is probably the worst. But Dean knew it'd be. He had to dig for that slug. 

       He inhales and waves Cas to him, needing to feel his body heat, the warmth of the blood pulsing through him, between them. Dean needs to remember they're alive and all that means. 

      Cas crawls onto the foot of the bed, eyes set and jaw loose. He kisses up Dean's hairy legs, watching him the entire time.

       And yeah, that's really hot.

       Then when he gets to Dean's boxer briefs he stops and has the nerve to look offended. Like they were going to magically disappear between one second and the next. Begrudgingly, Cas kneels and tugs the obtrusive garment down Dean's legs and over his bad ankle. 

     Dean can't help but laugh at Cas, who actually goes a little pink then he licks his lips and joins in. Dean sits up and kisses him. Because what else is there to do? 

      Somehow, Cas lays them both back down. Dean is too busy sucking on his tongue to notice, then Cas lines them up together and grinds.

      Finally, his brain yells, some fucking friction.

      Cas' balls are heavy against Dean's thigh and Dean is suddenly very aware of every point where their bodies touch. God, skin is amazing.

       And he hasn't even taken his nightly dose of painkillers yet.

      They rock against each other for a few moments, enjoying the heating tension. Well, Dean certainly is. He's got his hands on Cas' hips, rubs them over and down his massive thighs, learning the way they fill his palms.

      Dean is going to have those wrapped over his shoulders someday. And Cas is going to sing for him in his throaty monotone way. Fuck his stupid leg or Dean would be flipping them over and doing it right now.

      "Cas, please, let me? I just wanna—" Dean's begging, but he doesn't care.

       "Dean?"

       "Hm?"

       "Shut up," Cas says with his chin down. "I'm taking care of you this time. You're going to have to deal with it."

        "But–-"

        "That too," Cas agrees, not missing a beat.

         When Cas backs down his body and takes Dean's dick firmly in hand. Dean finally listens and shuts up.

         But not for long, because then Cas is dragging his tongue up Dean's shaft and swallowing him whole. "Holy shit! Okay! Okay– fuck— yeah. I'll deal."

         Impossibly, his logical mind reminds him about the condoms and he realizes they haven't really talked still. 

        "Hey, Cas, hold on. Um, we haven't talked about our histories or anything." Dean brushes his thumb over Cas' cheek, careful and concerned. Cas releases him.

        "I was there when the nurse read your test results. Don't think I didn't notice you requested a full STI panel when it wasn't necessary for your injuries." Cas is smug and Dean pushes his face a little, just cuz.

       "Okay, smart ass. But are you okay without protection?" Dean isn't forgetting.

       "I've never used them for oral and Fergus, well, we were together so long I kind of forgot I should. Did that— should I be?" Cas asks, visibly alarmed now.

        "No, I just want to be— transparent with you. Have you been tested?" Dean asks after a deep breath.

        Cas nods. "Yeah, I did it out of spite when Fergus kicked me out, just to see if I could catch him on infidelity. I'm clean." 

        "Good— that's good. Thanks, I, uh, just want to do this right. You know?"

         Cas' face softens and he smiles without teeth. "Yeah, I think I do."

    Dean knows there’s loads more to say, but he feels a little silly now with his dick wet and softening. Like, somehow, he’s more naked or he should cover up. He looks at Cas and hopes he understands what his eyes are trying to say. Something lights in Cas’ eyes and he nods, slinking up the bed and laying beside Dean in his spot. Dean shares a bed now. He gets a full sized bed and even a designated side. 

What is life?

    Cas kisses his forehead before kissing his mouth and it makes something clench in his chest. Dean sucks in a steading breath, but doesn’t let Cas pull away. He kisses and clutches, clings, grabs until Cas is on him once more with weighted reassurance. 

    Fuck— why did he think this would be easy?

    Cas is everywhere and Dean starts to breathe him in, them in, together and it all feels better. He drags Cas’ hand out of his hair, tugs it down until he can get his right knee up, showing Cas what he wants. Where he wants his fingers. And Cas hums his assent as he sucks on the spot behind Dean’s ear that makes him weak.

    Dean kneads Cas’ ass as he leans across Dean’s body for the lube. 

    There’s a slip and slide across his belly, but all Dean can focus on is the way Cas bites off a condom from the strip. The primal flash of teeth making something in his hindbrain come alive. 

Cas drops the packet on Dean’s chest and uncaps the lube to coat the first two fingers of his left hand. Dean spreads his right leg as far as he can, while Cas kneels over his injured one. He reaches down and tugs on his own dick, before cupping his balls and holding them up for Cas’ access.

    Cas kisses the inside of Dean’s knee and shoulders between his legs. He starts slowly, kissing and sucking on the inside of Dean’s thighs, making his dick throb from neglect. Then when Cas starts to circle Dean’s entrance he relents and kisses the crown with a wide gleaming grin. Dean is pulled apart and he can do nothing but wait until he’s a puddle of unwound string.

    The sucking warmth of Cas’ mouth is pure sin. Dean tries to keep his eyes open, tries to watch the mischief on Cas’ face as he destroys Dean once and for all. But the searching stretch of Cas’ fingers is too much and he has to close his eyes from the overload.

    “Oh, Christ!”

    “Dean, talk to me.” Cas slows.

    Dean grits out, “it’s good. It’s—so fucking good. Guh!”

    Dean is hogtied by the pleasure, unable to move besides his hands which slot through Cas’ hair as he sinks back onto Dean’s dick.

    Over and down. So hot.

    Dean gasps. And then Cas finds it.

    Everything is pulled out of him, ecstasy, sound, gravity. Dean explodes. Reducing him to a throbbing crater on the bed.

    Cas draws it all away, soothing and steady, leaving Dean empty and complete, anchored in the moment. Dean pats at Cas’ hair, groggy from the exertion. His right hand slips down to pull the bolt of his jaw away from Dean’s spent groin. Dean drags him up and back into a deep, grateful kiss.

    He hums at the taste of himself on Cas’ tongue. 

    He’s so light, he giggles, blissed out and happy. Impossibly so.

    Cas smiles back at him, almost bashfully and Dean holds him tighter. Trailing lazy kisses down his throat. Dean pats around between them for the condom, finds it wedged between his side and the sheets. He doesn’t stop kissing Cas as he rips it open, scoots back and grabs for his target. The angle is awkward, but Dean’s always been good with his hands, he makes do. Then Cas is pulling away for the lube once more.

    Dean wipes his hands on the sheets as he rolls over. Cas stops him midway, draping himself over Dean’s body in a purposeful spooning. Dean tucks his right leg up and exhales, feeling the thick prodding of Cas inching inside him.

    His body is sated, but the attention has his cock twitching, it’s already so much.

    Cas kisses the back of his neck and hums, thrusting home. He’s balls deep and stubborn and Dean is too tired to egg him on. Cas takes his time, fucking Dean in a rhythm both lazy and adoring. Dean holds Cas’ hand against his hip, twining their fingers together, he strengthens the hold.

    Dean doesn’t realize he’s crying until he opens his eyes. He blinks away the saline and clears his throat. Cas must feel him tense because he squeezes tighter and leans in to whisper, “it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m right here.”

    And Dean fucking breaks. Because Cas is right there, holding him, inside of him. And it’s still not enough. He lets go of Cas’ hand to cover his face, instinctively hiding as the emotions debilitate him. Cas stops and slides his right hand up Dean’s side, down his bicep and pulls gently on his elbow.

    When Dean doesn’t open his eyes— doesn’t answer the concern he can feel radiating off of Cas, Cas starts to pull out to face him properly. Dean panics.

    “Don’t, please. Just give me a minute—- it’s all a lot.” Dean grits out, grabbing at Cas’ hand and hugging it against him, shoving himself back against every inch of Cas he can get. He stares at Cas’ hand and inhales. He separates the digits and starts to suck on the two middle fingers, filling himself with Cas as much as he can. It’s pathetic and needy, but it stills the ragged thing that had taken over his breath and for that Dean calms. 

Just in time for Cas to keep talking.

    “Take it, Dean. Please, just tell me what you need. I’ll give it to you.” Cas shifts, grunting, his forehead rocking against the muscle that meets Dean’s shoulder. Cas resumes thrusting, fucking, loving Dean. “Anything. Everything.”

    Dean’s already half hard and Cas’ voice makes his lower belly clench. He releases his holds on Cas’ hand, reaching back to tug on Cas’ hair, down to clutch at his bandaged nape. Still unwilling to open his eyes, Dean rolls. Cas moves with him, straddling Dean’s thighs and driving into him with a runner’s pace. Swift, but steady. 

    Cas’ forearms frame Dean’s shoulders and Dean’s bad leg is halfway off the bed, but Dean wouldn’t have it any other way. He turns his head and growls against Cas’ finger tips, pecking and licking as Cas rides his prostate as well as his ass.

    Cas starts to falter. He huffs and starts again, but Dean feels him shaking.

    “Cas?” Dean asks, making himself look over his shoulder.

    Cas glares, unfocused and jaw tight. But the pleasure takes over and he closes his eyes and comes hard and deep. A requiem of curses is whispered against Dean’s back. Which makes Dean chuckle as Cas throbs inside him.

    All too soon, Cas is dead weight on top of him, softening and sticky and unwilling to move. If Dean were annoyed and uninjured, he’d have done something about it about five minutes ago. But he’s too damn happy and tired to even think about moving himself, let alone Cas.

    It’s just he needs to take his meds.

    He waits, guessing that Cas is most likely asleep now, by the steady beat of his heart through his back. He grits his teeth and breathes through the pain in his calf. He could really use a shower and he’s actually kind of thirsty too. A laundry list of wants and needs parade through his mind as Dean rests face down with Cas on top of him. 

It just all seems like too much effort.

    He’s slept in worse ways. Hell, he’s survived worse pain. But that’s the thing, he doesn’t have to— not anymore. He’s a free man. He could give up hunting altogether. Sammy’s moved on. His job is done. He doesn’t have to bear any of it any more. No more floss stitches and no-name bottle of pills he swapped for in some truck stop. He’s got a prescription with his real name on it and everything. 

    It’s ten feet away, tops.

    Dean sighs. 

    Cas turns his head and Dean can feel the patch of drool he leaves behind. Gross.

    “I’m getting up now,” Dean warns, flexing and bobbing his shoulder blades until Cas returns to the land of the living. Cas groans, yawns and rolls over, draping his forearm over his eyes as Dean slowly sits up.

    Dean glances over at Cas, stretched out and exhausted. The condom’s half off his limp dick, but Cas doesn’t even seem to notice. 

    “Come on Romeo, shower time.”

    Cas smirks, eyes still covered and licks his lips. “Too comfortable.”

    Dean rolls his eyes. “You’re on the wrong end of unsanitary here, Cas. Plus, uh— I kinda need a hand getting in and out of the tub with this thing.”

    Cas peeks one eye open, squinting over at Dean with a measuring glare. He sighs with his entire being. “Yeah, and we both need to put fresh dressings on.”

“Exactly.”

Cas scrunches his face up as he stretches out his hands, rotates his ankles and yawns. He stands up, cupping his junk before swaggering to the bathroom to finally toss the condom and wash his hands. 

    Dean watches him go the whole way, and yeah, okay, he ogles. But, he’s fucking allowed.

    Then he limps after him, ignoring his crutches for speed’s sake.

    The bacon from the complimentary continental breakfast the following morning is overdone, but Dean takes a plateful anyway. Waste not want not. He maneuvers back down the narrow aisle between tables against a single crutch. Hey, he needs a free hand for the grub.

    Cas is sitting hunched over his mug of coffee, scowling like it personally offended him. Dean can’t help but smile at how grouchy he is. But then again, Cas was the one who set the damn alarm in the first place. They’ve got another eight hour stretch planned, if the winds hold out they’ll make it all the way to Denver.

    Charlie texted them that she headed out just after seven, told them to take their time, and signed it with a snarky winking emoji. Dean’s in a group chat now. He’s got roommates.

    Oh, right.

    “Cas— so I was wondering what should I call you?”

    Cas looks up at Dean as he chomps down on a clump of strips of bacon, chewing as he tries to reel in the anxiety. Cas squints.

    “Cas is fine. I’ve become fond of it, why do you ask?” he replies.

    Dean almost chokes on his breakfast as he hurries to finish chewing. He takes a swig from his mug and clears his throat. “No—uh.” He swallows again, thickly, knowing he’s going to have to look at those piercing blue eyes for this. And so he sucks it up and looks. “I was wondering— how you see us, now. You know? I know we’re past buddies, and we’re going to be living together, but— uh—.”

    Cas sits back and raises an eyebrow, his lip quivers, but otherwise he’s stoic as ever. “Are you asking me to define our relationship, Dean?”

    “Well not when you put it like that,” Dean mutters, going back to his uncomplicated bacon.

    The mirth is thick in Cas’ deep voice now. “Are you worried I’m not that into you?”

    Dean can play this game, too. He looks back and speaks with his mouth full, “you were more than into me last night, man.”

    Cas grins and bites his lips, trying not to laugh outright.

    Dean’s flushed and he’s trying not to get loud in this hotel lobby, but he will if he needs to make a point. When Cas doesn’t give him anymore ammo Dean goes back to his coffee. 

    “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

    Cas takes pity on him. “Yeah, but I’m your asshole.”

    Everything is lighter suddenly, the coffee even sucks less. Dean’s eyes perk up.

    “Yeah?”

    Cas leans forward, reaching under the tiny table for Dean’s good knee. His face is soft and his eyes look so tired, but there’s something deeper there too. “Dean, I thought you knew how I feel about you, about us.”

    Dean knew— knows. He felt it. He sees it now. It’s just— it’s nice to hear. To be sure. He learned a long time ago not to assume things, especially with guys.

    Dean nods. “I’m just checking. Boyfriends or, uh, partners? Have a preference? As long as you don’t say lovers, because that’s a deal breaker right there.”

    Cas drops his chin. “Oh, I’ll remember that. But, uh, no. I don’t have a preference. Just as long as we’re in this—- together.”

    Cas squeezes his knee and Dean melts.

    “Yeah, well, you got me for the long haul, Cas. If you’re not sick of me by the time we hit California, I think we’re golden.” Dean tries to ease out of the moment.

    “I doubt I’m going to be ‘sick’ of you anytime soon. And even if I am— that doesn’t mean my feelings will change. It just means we’re both human.” It would have been slightly more profound if he hadn’t used the finger quotes, but Dean looks past them, for now.

    Dean nods and looks down at his plate and then back to the buffet line. “You getting anything? Only got like twenty minutes before they start cleaning up.”

    “Did you see if they have ingredients for a PB&J?” Cas asks, following Dean’s gaze to the little counter with toasters and condiments, outwardly doubtful.

    Dean stares. Who is this guy?

    “Uh, not sure, probably do though.”

    Cas hums and begrudgingly stands up to retrieve his own breakfast. Dean finishes off his coffee and debates another plate. They pull out of the parking lot just after eleven. Dean might let Cas drive after lunch, he’s still pretty tired. 

    The thought is a testament to how much he trusts Cas, with his car and with his safety. Dean’s been alone for so long, it was a risk just to take a nap. But he knows Cas has his back. Sure, he’s still taking a huge risk right now, with his heart. Oddly, it doesn’t feel like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

    It feels like they’re flying.

[revasserium]

reqs are open :)

152. horrific distortion

tendou; 1,840 words; i. am so. so sorry. please please PLEASE read the content warnings. and pls do not read if any of them bug you in the slightest. please.

cw: mentions of death, murder, suicide; general mental illness; mcd; dark af!!!!

“when this monster entered my brain, i will never know, but, it is here to stay.” - dennis rader, btk

[[wednesday, 21:42]] WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN SENDAI PARK sendai, miyagi — police pulled the partially decomposed body of an unidentified young woman, early twenties, from the kotodai park late last night. investigators are actively seeking any information on —

tendou lets his head fall back onto the smooth, cool leather sofa back, the ceiling fan spinning slow circles against the distant neon city lights. he closes his eyes and remembers — the heat of her skin, the smell of her hair, the rush of adrenaline as she gasped beneath him. he could count every single lash over those gorgeous, gorgeous eyes — he shivers as he relives the memories of watching the life drain from them, second by second, breath by breath, until — ah —

ecstacy.

he lets out a long breath, opening his eyes only to realize how tightly he’d been clenching his fists, scoffing as he bends over his palms to examine the tiny, crescent-moon indents. at least there’d been no blood this time. call him what you will — sadistic, monster, murderer, but not “messy”. no, never that.

his phone buzzes alive and he picks it up, cocking his eyebrows at the incoming caller id. he grins as he presses the phone up to his ear to answer.

“ahhh wakatoshi-kun! mhm, mhm — sure! sure! i’ll see you there in fifteen!” he grins as he clicks shut his phone and gets to his feet, humming an off-tune jingle as he gathers his things. he checks everything once before he leaves: phone, keys, wallet — check; gloves, fish-wire, hand sanitizer — check; duct tape — check; police scanner — check; cigarette lighter — check.

he flicks off the lights. it’s going to be a good, good night.

he sees you after his usual midnight coffee, after ushijima reminds him for the hundredth time that no, i’m not looking into those dead girls, i’m in the white collar crime division and no, i don’t think it’s anyone we know but that if it were, it certainly wouldn’t be tendou. after all, why would a murderer be best friends with a cop? stupid, right? absolutely ridiculous.

you smile at him as he walks out of the 24-hour diner, your hair slightly damp from an earlier bout of summer rain, your clear plastic umbrella dripping by your side. he catches a whiff of your expensive perfume and he knows you’re the one.

[[wednesday 22:12]] WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN SENDAI PARK sendai, miyagi — earlier this evening, the police confirmed that the body of the unidentified young woman found at kotodai park last night has been ruled a victim of homicide. early investigations cannot currently determine the cause of death but —

you sigh, swiping through the evening news, wondering vaguely what you should have for dinner, or if it is, in fact, way too late to be ordering food. the headlines flash across your screen, another dead girl, third in three months. that’s gotta be serial right? does sendai have a serial killers? has that ever even happened before?

shaking your head, you decide that this, of all things, is definitely not in your wheelhouse. you check your watch and curse as you realize that you’ve just missed the second to last train. it’d be another 33 minutes exactly before another train comes. you slow your steps as you near the station, rounding a corner onto a smaller street, the pavement bright but eerily quiet, casting your eyes up towards the moonless night. well, you think, if a serial killer were to be on the loose. tonight would be the perfect night, wouldn’t it?

you allow yourself a tiny laugh, thinking back on the past three months of your life, the monotony of daily life, the seemingly endless list of menial and yet impossible to finish tasks at work, the dwindling number of your friends, the less and less frequent calls from your family. you wonder if anyone would miss you.

and you think, ah… it wouldn’t be the worst thing.

“sah… are you lost, miss?”

you whirl around to find him there, grinning down at you, his eyes dark pinpoints, devoid of light. he’s tall, you think, and strong, you realize, just as he reaches out to wrap his arm around your neck and squeeze. you almost go without a fight.

“p-please…” you try to struggle, but his grip is unrelenting, even as he drags you with him, humming off-key, his free hand twisting through the air as if conducting some invisible orchestra, “please — w-whatever you want — take it —”

“oh? oh really?” he turns, expression bright and almost child-like, but there’s nothing innocent about the glint of his teeth, the way his smile doesn’t really reach his eyes. a strange thrill eats through you as he leans in, nearly pressing his forehead to yours, crowding into your space even as he has you in a chokehold, “and what, exactly, do you imagine i would want from you, hmmmm?”

he drags out the question, his voice like a mis-played note on a broken guitar, full of twist and twang and a certain deadly triumph. as if even his body is surprised he were able to make such a sound.

you grapple with the question, shoving weakly at his arm, and even though he still allows you sporadic gasps of air, you can feel your vision blurring.

“i — i don’t know…” you say, your fingers and toes already going numb, a pounding growing louder and louder behind your ears, “i — h-have no-nothing — just…”

“just?”

he cocks his head, like a bird, watching an insect struggle, pinned beneath it’s talons.

“my life —” you finally manage to choke out. black dots gather at the edges of your vision, the world feels all at once full of water and too light with air. you can’t tell if you’re drowning or floating, but there are pinprick stars up in the velvet-clad night. how beautiful, you think, how beautiful they’ve always been. how painful to be there, burning for a universe that has never spared a thought for you, to keep on shedding parts of yourself and tossing them into an endless night, never knowing if someone, anyone will ever get the chance to see.

“ha….?

[[thursday 00:09]] WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN SENDAI PARK sendai, miyagi — new images showing three round burn-marks leaked to the media by an unknown source confirms that this fourth body is linked to the recent string of murders allegedly committed by the same —

you’re nearly delirious now, tendou’s sure of it, but still, he finds himself enthralled by the sight of you, by the bits of red and pink spreading over your cheeks, like blots of ink seeping into your parchment skin, by the feel of your fingers digging, digging, into his forearms, even through his light jacket, by how in what you might think are the last moments of your life, your eyes are so far away.

most people at least do him the favor of looking at him before they die.

unbidden, his grip starts to loosen, and he reaches out his other hand to steady you.

you suck in a heavy breath, but you make no move to run away. instead, you just cough, reaching up as if to massage your rapidly bruising throat but dropping your hand at the last second.

“m-my life,” you say again, “y-you as-asked me what i have that you — you might want.”

“ah… haha!” he breaks out into a bark of wild laughter, letting his arms drop completely from around you as he clutches at his own stomach, doubling over before he looks up, “you’re right! you’re right — you’re absolutely right! bingo! jeopardy! ding-ding! we’ve got a winner!”

you’re still panting, watching him wipe his eyes of his mirth-induced tears. and still, you make no move to run.

“so… it’s true then. there’s a serial killer in sendai… and it’s you.”

tendou lets out a breath, shrugging his shoulders as he straightens again, shaking a single finger at you as if a teacher, admonishing a grade-school student.

“mah, mah, mah… for such a sharp girl, you really aren’t making the smartest decisions tonight.”

“what, like not running? or fighting harder?” you’re still a bit breathless, but he can see the mistiness fading from behind your eyes, and he feels pinned by the darkness. “i’ve read the articles, i’ve seen the news. i know that once you grab a girl, there’s no way you’d let them go. you’re too good for that.”

“hmmmm flattery will get you everywhere, darling, but you’re right there as well.” he reaches down to trace a long finger over your jawline, down the side of your neck, pausing at the ragged red marks he’d left with his arm only moments ago. slowly, methodically, he pulls out the tape, the gloves, the sanitizer. the wire, the scanner, the cigarette lighter.

“so? any last words? i’ll even strike you a deal — if you make them good, i’ll make sure you die the quickest, how’s that? less suffering, and all that.”

he flaps his hands, as if offering you some kind of three-for-one deal at the local grocery mart.

you sigh, you nod, you lick your lips.

“will you miss me?”

tendou feels the shivers as they kiss up his spine, feels the flutter in his stomach like a million butterflies stretching their wings. he lets out a soft breath and savors the moment.

mmm… ecstacy, indeed.

and he almost hesitates, because he knows it’ll never get better than this. he knows that somehow, this will be his best one yet — you, the brightest star in his entire sky, shedding and shedding your light.

“i will,” he says, as he wipes down his hands and slides on his gloves, “i promise,” he says, as he reaches forward to press the tape to your mouth, “i know,” he says, as he pulls you close, looping the fishing wire around your neck once, twice, three times. “i’m here,” he says, and when he tugs this time, you go limp in his arms.

he takes out the cigarette lighter and a cigarette.

“i miss them all,” he says.

“every. single. one.” as he lights the cigarette and watches the tip burn red.

“but… trust me when i say, darling, i will miss you most of all.”

[[wednesday, 21:42]] WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN SENDAI PARK sendai, miyagi — police pulled the partially decomposed body of an unidentified young woman, early twenties, from the kotodai park late last night. investigators are actively seeking any information on —

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

Sicktember 23 : Cold Case

(15. Sick in an Inconvenient Place + 24. “Did you just sneeze?”)

The detective's throat hurt.

Without leaving from sight the stuffy room, he massaged it slowly. His eyes were drier than usual, too. He blinked furiously. All for nothing, of course. No one was there yet; just him, a stupid little private eye freezing in a stupid little store that wasn’t heated. At least this time he was inside while it was snowing.

He’d already made good decisions in his life. It had happened ! Accepting this case had not been one of these. Not because of the case itself, oh no; it was – or at least, he hoped – rather simple. No corpse, for a start. That was a nice beginning for an inquiry. The client himself was much more of a problem. It was the first time that the detective had a rich collector among his clients, and if he was lucky, he’d be the last before long. The phone call that had begun it all had been one-hundred twenty eight (128. Honest.) minutes long well before his opening hours. The client had spent the first thirty seconds to explain that one of his greatest treasures had been taken from him, that was to say a priceless painting, and the rest to describe how miserable he was and the impacts on his social and financial life. Two hours left more than enough time to become salty, so the detective had asked:

“If that painting was that priceless, isn’t its place in a museum ?”

The client’s voice had become as frosty and hard as the weather outside.

“This painting is in my family since generations. Haven’t you heard, sir? It was stolen in a museum, because I lent it for an exposition.”

The detective had rubbed his temples and glanced at his alarm clock. 8:15. He’d never been at his brightest before 10 AM. Especially when he had been woken up toward 6 AM, all for a painting and some guy who was taking him for some kind of therapist. Yes, he’d heard about the stealing. Only he’d paid it no attention. It wasn’t often that rich guys were coming to him. The biggest mystery, really, was why the client had called him, but he’d needed the money, so he’d gone to work. A quick examination of the museum had told him that the thieves couldn’t have gone out by the main entrance or by the exit. There had to be a third way. Crime was always on the rise in this time of the year, and police and him didn’t get along too well, so as always he’d had no one else to help him. The museum security hadn’t been understanding either, so he hadn’t been able to make a very detailed search. Fine. He’d left out the place, and had tried to determinate if it’d been the only theft done in the same style, no matter how insignificant. It had been a laborious search, to enter all these stores only weeks before Christmas. He’d been shouted at, he’d been slapped once, and he’d been so very, very cold. While the days were going by, it’d been harder to get out of bed. He’d felt his throat hurting, his stomach growling, and sometimes he’d felt feverish. Used tissues piled up in his bin, and it took gallons and gallons of tea with honey to make him feel a little better. There was no time to rest, though. His medical appointment kept being postponed. The grumpier he was, the harder he wanted to catch the thief. Mostly though, it was because the client would not leave him be. Every day he called to complain. There was no polite way left to get him to shut up. The detective made his morning coffee while the phone whined on the table, and he’d only occasionally turn his head to add a “hmm” or “sure.” It wasn’t like he could turn it off altogether. Unlike what the collector seemed to thought, he actually had other clients.

Still, his work had paid off. All signs pointed to a little antique store next to the museum. He was pretty sure now that there was an entrance that connected the two buildings – and, if he was lucky, the painting might have been still in here. Judging by its description, it wasn’t something you could hide or carry easily.

After a bit of breaking and entering – he swore he’d pay for the damage - he’d settled in there and crouched behind an authentic-genuine-I-swear post-prehistoric chest of drawers. The perk of being small – or, as he’d liked to call it, a very reasonable height – was that in the middle of all these objects, he was invisible. He’d been waiting for a long time now. Hours and hours in the dark without moving too much, without getting asleep, without doing anything but watch. It’d been tedious. But the ray of light he could peek at just now told him that it hadn’t been for nothing. Said ray of light belonged to a flashlight that belonged to a long, bulky shape in black.

There you go.

The form extirpated itself from a hole in the stone wall, that had been hidden before by a bookshelf. One slightly slimmer shape followed up, then a tiny, tiny third that made him tilt his head in confusion. Maybe it wasn’t a child. He hoped it wasn’t a child.

Three whole humans. Right. Sure. His throat hurt a lot more all of the sudden, and it wasn’t because of the cold. He’d better believe he was as invisible as he wished, because the first one had something in their hand that very much looked like a gun. Of course, he had his own. That wouldn’t do much good because it was loaded with blanks. The only thing worse than risking being killed was risking killing another person. He wasn’t sure he could bluff against three. On the other hand, if he wasn’t noticed, it was his early Christmas present. He was paying them a visit just the night they were making another trip to the museum. What for, though ?

“A good thing we have done”, mumbled the first one. “That painting would have ruined us.”

Wait, what ? The second shape seemed to slap lightly the third, who whined in protest and stepped back.

“How was I supposed to know it was a fake ?”

Wait. What.

“Yeah, let the kid alone,” neglectfully said the first shape; “good thing someone had a brain cell inside his skull and checked with Dr Garner.”

The detective took note of the name, but he was still too flabbergasted to precisely hear what they were saying. So that was why the police hadn’t been that interested into that theft and the museum security had given him the cold shoulder. They must have known. Bastards, they could have told him ! Else he wouldn’t have been risking his neck for a fake painting that had been given back. As for his client, he’d never killed anyone in his life, but he was very much tempted to at least try to strangle him a bit.

Still, those bozos were going to be arrested. He didn’t like the kind of fire they carried around. He liked even less the kind of guys who bullied kids. He couldn’t catch them now if he wanted to live a little longer, but he wasn’t in a rush. He just had to wait for them to drop a clue.

So he stayed and stayed and stayed. He barely dared to move and had no idea of the time. Fortunately it was December and dawn wouldn’t break before very long. The thieves were still taking their sweet time, though. Oh, they spilled the beans all right. They let out names and addresses and other things that could be easily checked. He had them. He had them good. It was worth it. Sure. But there were also long, long silences that reminded him that it had been hours since he was in the same position and there still wasn’t any heating and the slightest noise would mean a bullet in the head. His throat was killing him but as long as it was the only thing killing him, he would be fine. Right ? Right. He could take it. He was a persistence hunter. The ache in every muscle in his body and his burning forehead and his vocal chords on fire meant nothing, so long as he got out alive with all those precious hints.

And then, the first shape took a step back and accidentally knocked down a table. It was far too close from him for his taste, but he was relieved to see it didn’t affect the little barricade of furniture who protected him. He let out a big sigh, unaware of the dust cloud that the table had moved, accidentally breathing it.

The second shape started.

“Did you just sneeze?” they asked awkwardly to the first.

“No,” answered the first, drawing out a gun, passing so very close to a shadow huddled into a corner with his hands on his mouth and nose and his eyes wide.

“I didn’t.”

*

Back to Hero x Villain Masterlist (I know I'm reaching)

[odbuoyjemmity]

Fic Masterlist

yeah i had this on my main but since i'm doing a sideblog now, it's going here

also: silverborn snippets (transcribed)

last updated: 13/6/24

Ongoing WIPs

child prodigy

Jupiter snatches baby Morrigan away from Great Wolfacre before Squall can get to her. He brings her to WunSoc. LAST UPDATED: 12/4/24

the trees deny themselves nothing that will make them grow

Morrigan's mother makes it to Nevermoor right before she gives birth. LAST UPDATED 11/3/24

Completed Multichapters

o mio padre (there's a ghost in my body)

After visiting the Wundrous Deity of Veil, Morrigan realises she's being haunted.

Mogtober 2023

Oneshots

an unpleasant surprise

Jupiter finds out about the apprenticeship

First Dance

Morrigan and Cadence at Marina and Roshni's wedding.

Oblivious Crushes

Morrigan has a crush. She's the only one who doesn't know.

strung out and spellbound

Five times Morrigan's head wasn't right around Cadence and one time Cadence's wasn't right around her.

if my engine works perfect on empty (i guess i'll drive)

Morrigan falls asleep at dinner one night and Jupiter finally realises that something is wrong.

burning wood

Morrigan tells the Kindling what has happened to the other Wundersmiths.

strange kind of prison

Morrigan talks to Ravi about gender. They figure some things out about themself.

danish and a latte

Five times Cadence bought Morrigan a coffee and a pastry in the morning, and one time Morrigan bought them for her.

don't want to fight the tide

Immortality isn't living forever. That's not what it feels like. Immortality is everyone else dying. - The Doctor Morrigan is immortal. No one else is.

feannag

Morrigan catches the hollowpox.

everyone in the room hates me but i did what i had to do

The Elders have a conversation with Jupiter and Nan. The Elders have an argument with Jupiter and Nan.

i sing sometimes to know i'm alive

Morrigan isn't coping.

canary in a coal mine

Five times someone at the Deucalion looked out for Morrigan, and one time she looked out for one of them.

how ignorant art thou in thy pride of wisdom!

Paximus Luck, Jack Korrapati and Fenestra wake up on a ship. They have no idea what's going on.

(the blood is) rare and sweet as cherry wine

What if the hollowpox hadn't left Sofia until a second later?

the feeling of being in motion again

Silverborn Countdown 2024: Nevermoor Cadence and Morrigan through the Trials

growing pains

Jupiter returns from a two month mission. Some things have changed at the Hotel Deucalion.

life is a race against the light

Morrigan goes to work with Squall after she graduates from being a senior scholar. A few years later, she comes back to Nevermoor because she has something important to tell them.

diversion

A tabloid suggests that the wundersmith might have a girlfriend. Morrigan and Cadence decide to have some fun and mess with them.

Choked

Cadence starts coughing up flowers. Morrigan has no idea why.

ghostly hours

Morrigan follows through on a promise.

matching

Morrigan and Cadence discover something.

actually she just left [SMASHED GLASS SOUND]

Unit 919 do their best to avoid Holliday Wu.

i told you all not to vote for me

With a new age comes a new council of Elders.

what you do when no-one is looking determines who you are

“What’s all this?” She could have kissed the ground in gratitude. Cadence was standing there. “What’s it to you?" “Well, given that I’m the Wundersmith’s bodyguard, and this is the Wundersmith’s servant… quite a bit actually. Run along.” Morrigan is a servant in the Wundersmith's mansion. Cadence is the her bodyguard, even though the Wundersmith has only shown one of the wundrous arts, and Morrigan has just started displaying two. Nevermoor x Rise of Kyoshi by FC Yee

at least it comes with dental

Squall's tailor needs a holiday.

homo sapiens corvo

Morrigan holds a dubiously desirable record as the wunimal with the most exposure to the hollowpox who's never caught it.

Cunk on Nevermoor

Philomena and her camera crew visit Nevermoor. She has some questions.

κατααιθοώ (to burn to ashes)

Silverborn Countdown 2024: Wundersmith Heloise, and Morrigan.

there's fire but no smoke

Morrigan accidentally relights the fireblossoms right after her book trial.

[stay-funky-ponyboy]

Hi! Uhhh. I see you freaking out about critical role all the time and I'm intrigued. Would you like to tell me a bit about it? And where would you recommend starting to watch (or is it listen??)? Right at the beginning?

Hey! I’m glad my ramblings have gotten you intrigued. Critical Role is a web series featuring a wonderful cast of voice actors who play Dungeons and Dragons (aka D&D). I’m not sure how aware you are of D&D as a whole so I will give a brief intro to that. D&D is a role playing game typically set in fantasy worlds. Dice are used to determine certain actions and their success. CR is set in Exandria, a world created by Matthew Mercer, who is also the Dungeon Master for their games. Essentially, he is the narrator and organizer for the campaigns.

You can listen to it as a podcast, or you can watch their videos on YouTube! Personally, I prefer watching it because you can see their reactions to things, as well as see the maps Matt creates for combat.

There have been 3 main campaigns so far. Each one features a different party of fun characters. They used to livestream their episodes on Twitch and Youtube weekly every Thursday night at 7pm (pacific time). Because of the pandemic, they switched to pre recording them.

They now stream every thursday night, except for the last thursday of the month, since campaign 3 started.

Where to start? There are a few options:

Starting at the beginning with campaign 1 is perfectly fine. When it comes to D&D, sessions can take hours to complete. It's wild to see how long the episodes for CR are at first, but you get used to it.

The nice thing about each campaign is you can jump into them without having prior knowledge!

For campaign 1 (aka c1) there are 115 episodes. Some audio issues are present, and there is one disruptive cast member that leaves pretty early on. Some fans will say to skip to ep24, simply to avoid these early issues. Ep 1 or ep 24, either works.

Alternatively, if the ep count intimdates you, and you like animated series, you can watch The Legend of Vox Machina. This show covers the entire campaign (so far it has covered the first 50 eps) in a shorter format. It's great.

Campaign 2 is where I started my journey into critical role, and it is the longest with 141 episodes. Audio issues are resolved and the beginning is smoother. We have confirmation of it getting an animated series, but we don't have dates for it yet. I will always recommend watching c2 at some point, because it is truly a lovely story. Take your time with it.

Finally, campaign 3 is also a place you could start. It is currently airing, having 70 eps at the moment, so you could catch up the quickest here. This one does reference c1 and c2 a handful of times (characters, places, plotlines) so without context it could feel confusing. I don't think it is absolutely necessary but I know I prefer having context to things. Mind you, I haven't watched c1 in full, only c2. c3 has been very enjoyable to me all the same.

If you do start with c3, I would recommend watching Exandria Unlimited Prime (an 8 episode miniseries, the dungeon master being Aabria Iyengar), and the first season of The Legend of Vox Machina before you get into the campaign. It will provide insight into some of the references you may miss otherwise.

I hope this helps you a bit. If you have any other questions you can message me or send another ask!