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maybe-moonchild · 2 months

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CHAPTER 4

summary: in which Peter can't stay away but he can't stay either. WC: 5.8k

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Congratulations, you have successfully managed to avoid Peter Parker for six whole days.

Not like it’s all that hard considering that the two of you had managed to avoid each other all of high school and college.

It didn’t stop him from plaguing your thoughts each day.

The feel of his hand on your hip, fingers tightening when you’d tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. The groans in the back of his throat you’d managed to coax out when your hand, with a mind of its own, slipped up the hem of his t-shirt. His toned abdomen, rigid under your fingertips like it was made by god himself-

With a loud groan, you slump forward so your head bangs against your dining room table.

It’s raining again, the steady hum ambient as you try to work on your upcoming calendar. You’d opted to put off starting your new job until the end of June. That way, you would have a five week long break from the end of undergrad until the start of full time employment.

Some pop song played behind Katie’s door as she got ready for her night. You were spending Friday night safely tucked in at home. After how disastrous last weekend had gone, you wanted no excitement. Flash and Katie had been bummed about your refusal to join them at some club, but you were content to have a quiet night.

Your friends had taken notice of your slightly odd behavior but they didn’t pry. They chalked it up to an embarrassing one night stand that you didn’t want to relive.

Oh, how you fucking wish it was that simple.

It takes you a few moments to realize that the tapping on the window is far too loud and inconsistent compared to the droplets exploding on the glass. You glance up, doing a double take at Peter’s figure crouching on the fire escape. The grin he shoots you looks more like a grimace when you scramble up from your chair.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” you hiss, flinging it open to be met with the smell of petrichor and mist hitting your cheeks. “What are you- Did you climb up my fire escape? It’s eleven stories!”

Dark hair is plastered to his forehead, his gray sweatshirt nearly black with how much water it’s sucked up. Peter grips the window sill, leaning his inside so you can hear him better.

“Yes. I need to talk to you.”

“You climbed up eleven stories? Up an old fire escape? In the rain… Just so you could talk to me?”

He nods once without hesitation, eyes wide as he hovers half in and half out. “Yes, yes, and yes.” Once he’s sure that you aren’t going to send him away, he pulls himself inside with ease. “But that’s not the point. The point is, I need to talk to you.”

You’re not quite sure you’re hearing him right. You have to be, because here he is, a puddle of water forming under his high tops and raindrops clinging to his cheeks.

“So, you climbed-”

“Yes,” he interrupts quietly, eyes determined and stepping closer so you have to look up. “I couldn’t think of another way to see you. I needed to see you. Badly.”

Your mouth falls open to object but you can’t quite figure out what you would be objecting. What were you supposed to do? Send him back out in the rain to trek back down eleven stories and take the humid subway home? You weren’t heartless.

And it wasn’t like you didn’t want to see him… at least a little bit.

“Alright, alright,” you concede. As you hurry to the bathroom to get him a towel, you call over your shoulder, “Couldn’t you have- oh, I don’t know… Called?” Peter catches the towel with ease when you return, using it to dry his hair. You drop the other onto the floor and use your foot to soak up the water collecting under him before he stands on top of it.

He rubs the back of his neck and shoots you a crooked smile. “Sorry.” When he folds over to pull off his sneakers, you nearly flinch at his proximity. At least you manage to hide the action by standing back up and grabbing his shoes.

“It’s okay,” you sigh softly. It is okay. Just scared you half to death.

Peter slips off his wet hoodie and you take it from him so you can hang it on the shower to dry. His shoes find themselves where they belong on the welcome mat in the entryway. From his spot in the middle of the living room, he inspects your apartment like you had studied his.

“Nice place,” he says offhandedly as he tries to determine which parts are you and which parts are Katie’s. It’s obvious to him. Anything new and expensive, that’s Katie’s. The furniture that looks a little more used like it was in good condition on facebook marketplace, that’s all you. It’s more than that too. Clearly you both agreed on the eclectic, mid century modern look you’ve managed to cultivate but the things like ‘stacks of books that also act as decor’ scream you.

You open your mouth to thank him but he clearly isn’t there to discuss the furnishing of your apartment since he cuts you off. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out, eyes burning into yours as you come to a stop. “I just… I needed to see you.”

“It’s okay. What did you, uh, want to talk about?”

Be cool. Be fucking cool or youre gonna look like a total dork in front of him.

Peter shifts from foot to foot, the words on the tip of his tongue, ready to fall. You come to stop in front of him that still allows for a good amount of space between you.

“I need to explain. About the other night. And that night, senior year. And eight years ago…” It feels like all of your lives are crammed into the past week. There so much to explain, still fresh even if it all happened so long ago that it should feel like fading scars.

Your brows furrow but you nod for him to continue. Peter nods back, trying to be less awkward than he normally is when he can’t hide behind a mask.

“Why is Peter Parker here and why is he drenched?” Katie asks from her bedroom doorway.

You and Peter’s heads snap in her direction, both of you taking a step away from the other. It certainly doesn’t help either of you seem like you’re not guilty of something. Even if you’re really only talking.

She raises an eyebrow at you when you don’t immediately answer. Thankfully she was less standoffish than she had been in high school since she got to the real world.

“Because…” you say slowly, glancing at Peter who is no help by the wide eyed look on his face. “He is…”

“Bringing her something… from her moms,” Peter adds, peeking out from behind your shoulder to give her a wave. “Uh, hey Katie.”

Her perfectly manicured brow only raises higher, filled with skepticism. “And it has to be done at ten at night, because you have no free time during the day?”

Peter shifts in place, uncomfortable. Jesus, he was always the worst liar in the entire world. His eyes find the ceiling while his hands bury themselves deep into his front pockets.

“Yes.” Scowling, or at least attempting to, you grab Peter's arm to drag him down the hall and towards your bedroom. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we will be in here,” you call over your shoulder with a smug look in her direction. Once you practically shove him through the door and out of her sight, you peek your head out the doorway.

Peter lets himself get pulled and pushed along, awkwardly following his own thoughts. He has a plan; things to say- no. Things to tell you! Important things he has to tell you!

Katie’s eyes drift from you, towards his shoes and jacket that somehow needed to be removed while dropping off something from your mom’. Pink flushes your face and her face only grows smugger while you hiss at her to shut up.

It’s not that you’re embarrassed to be seen with him in your apartment. You never had been embarrassed by him even though Peter was so sure of it in high school. What embarrassed you was when you’d call out his name in a busy hall and he would give you a tight lipped smile, curt wave, and continue walking. That. That was mortifying. More to yourself than others.

Katie will tell Flash tonight. Tomorrow morning, they’ll sing-song about you having a crush on him and wondering what time Peter actually left the night before. Your friends will unintentionally make you chase him off before he even has the chance to come back to you.

If… that’s… even what he wants… considering you up and bailed last sunday morning with a stupid note.

Even after you slam your door, her laughter is loud as she retreats to her room to finish getting ready to meet Flash at the bar. Now, the two of you are alone. His presence is so strong at your back before you slowly turn around.

“Wait, I’m getting water everywhere,” he says stupidly, stepping off of the rug so he can balance on one foot on the wood floor. While the entirety of what he is wearing is soaked through from his swing here, it's the water coming off the bottom of his pants and his socks that make a mess.

“Oh shit,” you grimace, rushing to grab something he can change into. It takes some digging but you manage to find a pair of sweats and a shirt that Flash left here from a past movie night. “Here. It’s fine. Really. No harm.”

The few minutes alone you both have allows you to try and get the panic out of your system. While he tries to remember his little speech, he has to try and pull off the wet fabric sticking to his skin in your bathroom. You pace. Your hands move from shoving your hair off your forehead to running up your face as you try to collect yourself.

By the time he opens your bedroom door a little too abruptly, you're halting to a stop and trying to look casual.

When he gets back, hair shoved out of his face with lashes that are still wet, arms looking far too good to belong to the lanky kid he was-

So not the fucking time. Are you insane?

“Sorry about the water. I- I didn’t realize how wet I was,” he says sheepishly and shutting it behind him silently. “Thank you for the clothes. Probably should’ve thought about that before running here in a downpour.”

Suddenly, the sound of silence is just as loud as the rain outside.

Clearing your throat, you cross the room to take his wet clothes from his hands. You toss them in your laundry so you can, at the very least, throw them in your dryer before he leaves. At the very most, you could wash… and dry them… if he intends on staying long enough. “It’s okay- really. It’s water. It’s not a big deal,” you reassure, hoping you sound less dorky than you think you do.

Guess what, you sound just as dorky as you think you do.

Peter stands there, unsure of what to say next. He’d come all this way and he wouldn’t let it be for nothing. Forcing down the nerves with a deep breath, he steps closer, his face determined like it had been when he showed up on your fire escape. His fists clench and unclench on his sides so he stops bouncing on his feet.

“Yeah, I know. I just- well I need to talk to you. Sorry about showing up out of nowhere. I didn’t really…” think through any of my actions and just scaled your apartment building at ten o'clock at night and gave you a heart attack.

“It’s okay.”

You clear your throat again and try to relax. No more apologizing. “What did you want to talk about?” You try to sound casual as you fold your arms over your chest. No, actually you wrap your arms around yourself.

God damn it. He’s doing that thing- not puppy dog eyes exactly, but doe eyes. Big and brown, full of a million questions as he presses his lips into a tight line. You hate when he does that thing. You just hate it because as the two of you got older, anytime he’d done it, it made your face feel hot.

Peter’s a grown man and he has no clue why the hell he’s still acting like a nervous school boy in front of the girl he likes.

“I- uhm, I know that I haven’t been there for you at all these last few years– I haven’t been there for you since we were fourteen,” he admits, “and I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

The apology catches you off guard. The shock shows on your face and he rubs the back of his neck.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he argues almost instantly, his brow furrowing as he stares down at you.

When he opens his mouth to continue, his phone goes off. He reaches into his pocket and glances at it. He stares at that screen, for a little longer than is probably normal, and then looks back up at you with a grimace.

“That was work. Um. It can wait.” he says awkwardly. Lie. Crime alert at the docks. It can wait. At least a bit.

You nod slowly and can’t help the confused frown that won’t seem to go away. Work? Why would The Bugle be texting him on a friday night. Well, maybe they do and that isn’t actually a strange event for him.

Peter’s phone returns to his pocket and he starts over with a long inhale.

“Would you… would you like to sit? I have things I need to tell you.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” you say and gesture to the edge of your bed. He nods slightly, sinking down on the bed next to you. The mattress dips under both of your weight and you angle your body to face him.

Peter says your name, opening his mouth to start his long speech he’d been working on for the past six days since he woke up alone. He’d had so many thoughts eating his brain since he found his bed colt and empty. A beep from his phone makes him lose his train of thought. He ignores it with a shake of his head, turning to face you.

“I want to be honest with you. About everything that’s been going on the last few years. What I’ve been doing- and why. But I understand if you don’t trust me,” he continues. “But everything feels different this time. Maybe just because we’re both older now.”

“Okay…” you breathe out slowly. When you shift in your spot and clasp your hands together in your lap, he does the same.

“But it’s a lot of things. From eight years ago, and four years ago. Also from last week. About Fisk and why I took those files, all of it. I owe you answers and- I want to tell you everything.”

Another beep.

It throws him off his disaster of a speech. Peter shakes his head like he can shake away the part of him swinging around New York. He’s here, not out there. This is where he wants to be.

“I need to tell you the truth,” Peter says. He scoots a little closer to you, reaching for your hands then second guessing himself and letting them card through his hair. “This is going to sound really crazy but I-”

Another beep. He sighs and pulls his phone out, glancing at it quickly.

Apartment fire over in Brooklyn. Fuck.

“Really have to go.”

He’s already standing and looking for his bag by the time you realize what he’s saying. Your face falls which just makes the guilty look he’s wearing more prominent. “Oh. Right.”

Peter opens his mouth to say something before deciding against it. He can’t just blurt it out and leave. So he decides that he just has to do the leaving part now and the explaining part later. You follow behind him into your living room so he can collect his shoes and bag sitting by the front door. You’ll worry about getting the clothes he borrowed another time when he isn’t itching to get out of here.

The idea that he’s itching to get away from you makes you chew on the inside of your cheek.

“I… I really do have to go,” Peter says apologetically, “I mean it. I’m serious. I’ll make it up to you.” You nod slowly and lean against the wall beside him. The reassuring look you give him when he peaks up from tying his sneakers is uncertain.

“But I promise, I’m going to explain it all. Tomorrow. I promise.”

He’s already backing up towards the window to your fire escape, but you nod. For some reason, it seems like an empty promise.

“Tomorrow. Yeah.” You hope the words sound more light than they feel getting stuck in your throat.

You don’t want him to leave.

Not when something about it feels so final.

Sounds of rain slamming against the metal stairs and the streets of Manhattan fill the apartment when he opens the window. His backpack is slung over one shoulder, one leg swinging outside. He waits for you to return the tight lipped smile he shoots you before he actually slips outside.

It isn’t until the window is shut behind him that you realize he chose the fire escape over the elevator… again…

Shaking it off, you chalk it up to whatever in his life that is going on. Not like you know anymore. Not like he actually managed to give you anything but more questions tonight.

For a long moment you wonder, like you have the past week, if he really is the Peter Parker you once knew.

Or if Fisk was right.

If he was someone else entirely.

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summary: oh, yeah. Shit hits the fan again.

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For a second, you’re sure you’re going to throw up. Your head is spinning and there is a pounding so deep in your skull, it makes you forget who you are. It takes a second to blink the black spots from your vision. It takes another second for you to manage to lift your head up.

It takes even less time for you to realize that you’re completely fucked.

There are only a few blurry figures hanging around the abandoned warehouse. Fisk is there, standing off to the side with his back to you. The top of Scar Guy's head is visible over Fisk’s shoulder as they chat. You think it’s Red Hat Goon and the Tattooed Thug from last week smoking cigarettes near a few rows of overturned shelves.

No one seems to have realized you’re conscious yet.

Or that you’re at least somewhat conscious and trying to pull yourself the rest of the way there.

You squeeze your eyes shut again, which helps chase away some of the nausea. At least adrenaline is kicking in quickly, working to ease your headache so you can think. Your wrists are duct taped tightly to the arms of the chair, nearly cutting off the circulation to your fingers and bruising the skin underneath.

What did you do? What were you doing- bar. You were going to the bar. After Peter bailed, you accepted Flash and Katie's offer to meet them at the bar. It wasn’t like you had other plans anyway. You’d hurried to get ready, changing into a nice outfit, throwing on some makeup, and fixing your hair. Then you were hurrying to the subway… then there was a guy? No. There were two guys- Scar Guy. He showed up. Then a slamming pain on the back of your head and then…

Now you really wanted to throw up.

Scar Guy glances at you, noticing your open eyes and jerking his head in your direction. Fisk turns around with an amused smile. Smoke billows from the cigar in his fingers as he steps into the light.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Fisk says loudly. The other two thugs perk up, now paying attention rather than gossiping or whatever else criminals chat about. You tense in your spot, muscles rigid when Fisk comes to a halt in front of you.

“Pleasure to see you again. Shame it's so soon after our meeting last week.”

The most you can manage is to keep your head hung slightly, looking up at him through your lashes. You give your wrists an experimental tug and wince when the tape cuts into your skin.

“Why am I here?” Your voice shakes more than you had hoped it would.

Fisk just shrugs and takes a drag of his cigar, “Oh, a few reasons.” He exhales as he crouches down in front of you. It’s harder to hide your face now and even harder to hide the way your hands shake.

This clearly isn’t his first rodeo because he knows the exact amount of time to let the silence hang in the air that it becomes suffocating.

“You see,” Fisk continues with a sigh, “I’d hoped there wouldn’t need to be a repeat of this type of thing again- really, I didn’t. But now, Peter has proven himself to be an issue. I wanted a little reassurance in case he slipped up.”

Your bottom lip trembles and it’s really hard not to cry. At least in the limo last week, you’d had Peter by your side for the most of it, so you managed to keep it together. Right now, you were alone and very, very scared.

“And now here we are,” he says and leans down to blow smoke in your face. Tobacco stings your eyes and you turn your head. It manages to make Red Hat Thug chuckle and nudge Scar Guy who just scowls at him.

An issue? Did he steal something else? Do something that yet again got him on Fisk’s radar and- fuck. Put you on Fisk’s radar now.

Not just his radar. Put you in an abandoned warehouse, tied to a chair, and bleeding out of the back of your head.

“Look, I don’t-“ you start but your voice cracks. You take a shaky breath and start again. “I don’t know anything about this. Whatever he did… I’m sure it was a misunderstanding-”

“Oh, it’s no misunderstanding. Peter stole something very personal of mine. Something I’m unwilling to part with.” Even though his voice is amused, his gaze is cold as he drags the cigar between his lips and stands up to his full height.

“And in order to… motivate him to return it,” Fisk pauses and lets out another cloud of smoke towards you. “He needs something to protect. Or someone.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Your heart drops all the way into your stomach at the knowledge that he stole something… again. Panic is pressing down on your lungs, filling your mouth and throat. It flows through your veins and is mixed with the congealed blood in your hair at the back of your head.

You take a few shaky breaths, urging yourself to stay calm. To think. To adapt.

“But he gave the files back to you.”

The crime boss smirks and the smoke from his cigar fills the space between your face and his. Fisk leans closer, you lean back and duck your head. “He gave me copies.” He pulls away and his expression is hard and unreadable.

“So, I’ve taken you as an insurance policy. To prove my point. If he wants to keep stealing my toys, I’ll take his and break them.” Fisk stares at you a long moment before he laughs, “I’d say your life is in Peter’s hands. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Suddenly, you don’t feel brave at all. Quite the opposite. You feel helpless and angry and stupid. Most of all, you’re scared.

Horribly scared.

It could be worse- in fact, it could be a lot fucking worse and you don’t doubt that it will be.

Your eyes well up with tears because you really can’t help it. They follow Fisk as he approaches Scar Guy. There’s a gun tucked in the front of the thugs waistband but there is clearly no concern that he even needs to keep it out. Instead, he digs through your purse.

“Please. Don’t do this,” you breath out, pressing your lips into a thin line as they tremble. Your eyes are pleading but you manage to keep some semblance of dignity since you’re not begging and crying.

Fisk cocks his head towards you and raises an eyebrow. “Let me be clear, I’m not here to hurt you. If anything, I’m going to let you go as soon as I have those files. Don’t you worry about that.”

“Of course, we don’t have the files yet. So if you’re not very cooperative,” Scar Guy grumbles, more distracted with digging out my cell phone, “who knows what could happen.”

You stare at the dirty floor. Hanging your head letting the cement blur in your vision. It doesn’t stop the panic from creeping in. One one hand, you’re panicked for yourself but, you’re also panicked for what’s going to happen when Peter shows up.

If you try to speak, you think you might actually throw up.

Fisk's thick fingers close around your phone and he seems oddly interested in it as he scrolls through your notifications.

“Well, look at that,” Fisk chuckles. “A missed call. From Peter. Imagine that, I’m impressed. It’s like he has a sense for this sort of thing.”

Red Hat guy drags a chair over, the sound of the legs scraping against the floor, echoing around the warehouse. With how hard rain is pelting against the metal roof, you know that if you screamed, not a soul would hear it.

Fisk waves a hand towards you and Scar Guy advances. You flinch when he reaches for your arm but it’s not like you can actually move away. When he pulls out a pocket knife, you don’t care that you're stuck in your spot, lurching in your spot anyway.

But all he does is cut the tape from your wrists.

That’s when you finally realize that hurting you isn’t the plan. Not that Fisk won’t. He definitely will.

But he is here to hurt Peter, and it makes the blood rush in your ears.

You rub at your wrists, the skin red and faintly purple as you fold in on yourself in the chair. Fisk doesn’t even look up as he sits down a foot away. The only time he does is when he holds up your phone for you to unlock. With a glance between him and Scar Guy, neither of them even look slightly conflicted at the scene playing out like it was straight out of a mafia movie.

So you comply because you’re helpless.

That’s the point.

You’re playing bait.

“But he’ll definitely come when you call. So, unless you want things to get messy, you’ll let him know you’re in trouble.” Fisk gives you a cold smile and makes a show of pressing the call button. God, why didn’t you just delete his number eight years ago? Why did you put it into your contacts four years ago when you got a new phone but never intended on calling him?

Each ring makes you wince. The sound cuts through the quiet of the warehouse, shrill in your ears as you pray to a god you don’t believe in that Peter won’t pick up. Of course this is all Peter’s fault. None of this would be happening if he stopped managing to steal from Manhattan's biggest crime lords. You’re really mad at him for lying- omitting the truth or whatever he would try and call it.

Was that what he was going to tell you tonight?

There’s only a few rings before Peter picks up, his voice coming through the speaker phone and making your eyes well with tears. Just the sound of the voice of the dorky kid from across the street makes your shoulders sag in relief

”Hey,” Peter says breathlessly, the smile evident in his voice. “I was just about to call you. My uh, work thing just ended so… Well, I didn’t know if you wanted to talk tonight. I said tomorrow- I promised tomorrow but I’m free now. If you are. If you’re free and want to talk.”

The urge to cry grows even stronger when you realize he wants to figure things out. That he still has your phone number or took the time to find it. Somehow, you manage to swallow even though your throat is painfully tight.

Fisk’s hand clamps down on your shoulder, warning you to play your part. To play the helpless bait, begging for Peter to show up here and save the day. So he will fall right into Fisk’s hands along with the files.

Even though you are feeling more helpless and terrified than you’ve ever felt in your entire life, hearing Peter Parker's voice coming from your cell phone gives you a surge of bravery. When Fisk adds enough pressure on your shoulder to make you wince, you clench your teeth and glare up at him.

A moment passes, and then another.

Then, Fisk clicks his tongue.

“Well,” Fisk chuckles, “I guess I have the wrong number. I hope I didn’t disturb you. If you’re doing something, I’m sure we can talk later.”

The silence fills the space between Peter and Fisk as your heart races.

“Or we can talk now,” Fisk sighs, delighted in the weighted silence coming from Peter's end. “Probably better turn out for your little friend if we talk now.”

Peter grits out Fisk’s name so quietly that you almost don’t hear it. You probably wouldn’t have if your phone wasn’t being held right in front of you.

“Let’s cut to the chase. I’ve got your friend but she doesn’t seem to want to talk. How about you come down here and you can ask her yourself how she is doing. I’m sure she’ll have a lot to say if you show up. Maybe she just gets nervous in front of an audience.” Peter goes silent and Fisk’s eyes burn into you, his cruel smile never wavering.

Just then he hears the faint sound of a click.

You hung up the phone.

The crime boss’s brow furrows in confusion at the line going dead, Peter’s name disappearing off the screen. Scar Guy makes a face, almost like he’s impressed at the balls you have in a situation like this. Even when you’re sitting there curled in on yourself with your watery eyes glaring at Fisk.

You are not going to willingly play victim to put Peter in danger.

“You did something stupid,” Fisk grits out through a sneer. The anger is practically palpable in the air, radiating off of him and white hot. You don’t look away even though his stare makes you want to squirm in your seat.

Peter's name appears on your phone within seconds. He didn’t hesitate in calling back and he’s probably ready to reach through the speaker and kill Fisk.

The crime boss inhales slowly through his nose and forces a smile, so tense, it might snap right off his face. “Sorry about that Mr. Parker,” Fisk chuckles as he collects himself. He stares at you for a long moment before turning to Scar Guy and giving him a nod.

“I swear to god. if you hurt her in any way I will not even flinch as I-“ Peter growls into the phone before Fisk cuts him off.

“She really is a fiery one, huh? Brave and strong. Refusing to say a word to get you here.”

You barely keep in a yelp when Scar Guy pulls you from the chair by your upper arms. You struggle in his hold, his arm looping around your neck as he easily shoves you down so you're kneeling. The cement skins your knees, stinging and embedding gravel and glass into your skin.

“I’ve got to say,” Fisk continues with an air of nonchalance that’s ironic compared to your fighting. “All she was supposed to do was shed some tears, tell you to get here and she’d remain unharmed.”

You know you brought this- whatever is going to happen- on yourself, but you desperately try to fight anyway.

Your arm is forced into Fisk's hand, the one not occupied by your cell phone. Fisk doesn’t even flinch when you try to wrench it out of his grasp. Scar Guys hold on your shoulders from where he stands at your back, keeping you in your spot.

“Wanna know how she sounds when I break her arm?” Fisk muses.

You barely have time to grasp what he’s said when Fisk squeezes; hard. The pain is instant, excruciating under his palm and radiating through your bone. You cry out. The sound is strangled from your lips, eyes squeezed shut long after Fisk lets up some of the pressure.

Peter goes quiet. He’s frozen at the other end of the line as he listens to you in pain over the phone. There’s silence on the other end until finally, all Peter can manage is calling out your name.

“Now, are you going to join us, or should we break her other arm too,” Fisk sighs like he’s now only inconvenienced. It seems he just needed to get the anger out of his system to remain collected.

Then finally, after what seems like a lifetime, Peter speaks clearly, a new emotion in his tone. Rage.

“Where the fuck are you?” he spits into the phone.

Vaguely, you think you think you can hear Fisk telling Peter where you are. You don’t know, it’s hard to hear over the sound of the blood pounding in the back of your skull in sync with the throbbing in your arm.

“We’re waiting,” Fisk says, and hangs up.

“He’s coming, isn’t he?” Scar Guy asks like he's bored, his voice is deep and raspy.

“He’s coming.” Fisk replies. The phone falls to the ground before you do.

#marvel #peter parker tasm #peter parker tasm x reader #the amazing spider man #peter parker x reader #spiderman #peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #andrew garfield #Tasm

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rinstrumental · 1 year

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ellie gf headcanons

# modern au. im in luv with her. this is so long oh my god its an illness

did karate from 1st grade all the way up to high school and basically considers herself your bodyguard

immediately offers you her hoodie without a second thought when you show the slightest signs of being cold. she lets you keep it too, of course. what kind of girlfriend would she be if she didn’t ???!!!!

she needs either your hands on her or her hands on you at all times. sosososo touchy and BIG on pda her kisses are inescapable. constantly has an arm around you or resting on your waist… the whole world needs to know. she’s actually insufferable i’m sorry but in the most endearing way ever how can you resist

“would you still love me if i was a ____???” she wants a serious answer too

genuinely thinks ur the prettiest person alive. which is kind of the bare minimum but she worships you truly

happy with any sort of date as long as it’s with you. fancy dinner? this is the only reason she keeps a suit and tie. staying in? what movie do you want, babe? running errands? she’s already waiting for you in the car!!!

speaking of cars she drives an old station wagon which used to be joel’s. ellie used to moan about how lame it was until you said that the back was perfect for sitting together during camping or stargazing…. and other activities too ;) wink wonk

gets flustered when she makes you flustered because you’re telling her that SHE did that?? she made u nervous??? shit man now shes blushing too

her love language is gifts she loves to spoil you with your favourite snacks and soft toys and even homemade gifts. she just wants you to see her in your room and have her on your mind as much as you’re in hers!!

it’s no secret that she’s an artist and it’s also no secret that her favourite subject to draw is youuu!!! her favourite thing to do is just have you sit across from her and draw what she sees

of course naturally that means she takes tons of pictures of you… to study for her drawings… and keep in her special photo album of you… and to look at when she misses you. Ofc

makes fun of you/teases you sometimes. she can be a mean bitch to other people but she would never actually hurt your feelings and you know that

ellie hates goodbyes. even if it’s after spending a full day together and you’re going to see her soon anyways… i just know she’s the kind of person who feels empty after hanging out with someone.

calls and texts about everything… and it’s always so cute :( she definitely has autocaps on

ellie: I drew you again!!

ellie: Hey babe I saw this funny bird it reminded me of u

ellie: I miss you so much. When can I see you again?

ellie: These cats r like us lol

keeps a pet gecko or something like that for sure. it’s you guys’ baby

her top two movie genres are horror and romance after that. the only reason romance is that high up is because it reminds her of you

does stupid romcom shit like hold a boombox outside your window. makes you mixtapes even though CDs are basically extinct (joel has a player thank god). corny pickup lines. asks you to be her valentine publicly. runs to your house in the rain. dances with you in said rain.

when she gets sick it’s like the end of the world omg… she needs u to be at her side 24/7 and hold her and keep her company and give her get well soon kisses, it’s essential to her recovery. doctors orders. he said it not her!

gets along so well with your friends and family. she does her research and takes this shit seriously! whatever it takes to make you happy because what’s better than watching your girlfriend get along with the people you love

she also takes her own family seriously - family time is important to her and she spends a lot of time with joel. it’s even better when you can join, some of her best memories are with the two of you

“i’m happy as long as you’re happy”

pet names galore. her personal favourite is just babe (classic) but when she likes others too (sweetheart, honey, darling etc she’s so cheesy it’s awful)

in conclusion she’s just a clingy sappy lesbian who’s absolutely head over heels for you. and you wouldn’t have it any other way <33

bonus: (these tweets that are so ellie)

#tlou x reader #tlou fanfiction #ellie x you #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie x y/n #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader

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lemmetreatya · 2 years

Note

Hey Hey Hey! I guess that I have a simple request of FWB!Jotaro having passionate sex with his best friend in his lil twin size, college bed during a loud thunder storm and he like ends up confessing to her when he's a couple strokes in cause he's gazing at her while she rides him in all her ebony beauty and he's just like "Damn, I love this girl."

istg every time you send me a request its so fucking jewcy and really just gets my head drumming 😩😩 im sorry, i just really had to self indulge with this

stay (so i have you with me) — Jotaro x black!fem reader

Word count: 3k+

Content: afab!reader, fwb, smut, size kink, cowgirl, riding, vaginal smut, motorboating, nipple play, passionate sex, sex with feelings, breeding kink, babytrapping

Like clockwork, Jotaros pulling you into his embrace whilst already sitting up on top of his bed, and with swiftness, your bag is dropping to the ground as you slink down to join him.

Instantly you guide your legs over his thighs so that you could sit prettily within his lap. The first thing Jotaro does is lean forward to capture your lips in his.

He’s no stranger to your warm press — you yourself weren’t any less familiar to the mould of his mouth, but there’s a bit of resistance to his beckon on your end.

“I told you,” You mumble between kisses. “I’m just here to give your USB back…then I’m dipping.”

You make no effort to retreat, especially not with how Jotaro’s hands have already found themselves up the inside of your baggy tshirt that he’s pretty sure is his. Either way, he doesn’t care, as he’s already tugging the material off the top of your head.

“It’s raining.”

Jotaro grumbles, as if that’s any better explanation for you to ditch your prior intentions, but he believes it’s good enough reason, good enough excuse, to get you to reconsider.

“So?”

You sultrily say as you automatically begin to grind against his crotch. You don’t fail to acknowledge the new chill that dresses over your shoulders at the progression of no top covering your chest.

Jotaro makes a gruff noise.

You’re more than aware that irritating his already restricted cock through his trousers was what sets him off the most. For someone who was adamant they need not stay, you seemed more than willing to fire him up past the threshold of no return. But Jotaro doesn’t need to say anything, or reprimand you for intending the opposite of what your words were saying, because he knows your games.

It’s not like you play hard to get but it’s evident that you never allow him in easily.

Still, Jotaro plays along.

He’s come to realise that he doesn’t mind playing your games because you always ensure that you both end up winners.

“So stay.” His teeth nip against the hollow concave between your breasts.

You take a deep inhale at his initiative, your hands coming round Jotaro’s nape so that you could guide his head deeper into your chest.

“Okay.”

You softly reply, your verbal confirmation hinting that your mind was made up. But Jotaro knows your mind was made the moment you knocked on his door.

Before long, the both of you were stripped down to the mere mesh of warm exposed skin.

Undressing wasn’t easy but when was it ever? Jotaro’s raggedy twin size was way too small to fit the both of you let alone just him. He really should invest in a bigger bed, you occasionally tell him — one more suited to his height — but he says he doesn’t mind if his feet have to dangle over the edge a bit.

Still, it’s never been a hindrance for the two of you. It proves, seeing as you easily found yourself hovering over Jotaro’s tall standing dick, one of your hands guiding him towards the honeyed folds of your entrance whilst the other sturdied itself on the headboard besides his head.

God, he could never get tired of seeing you like this.

Jotaro’s ocean teal eyes glass over the silhouette of your body, drinking in as much as he could see. It wasn’t dark per se but the thundering storm outside didn’t help with the leverage for vision.

But Jotaro thinks to himself that it didn’t matter if the sun never granted him light to see you ever again. He’s sure that he’d still remember every curve and delicious shade to your darkened skin, your elysian form burned achingly on the insides of his eyelids and within the deep crevices of his mind.

Of course, Jotaro was just being dramatic; He really could just turn the lights on at any time, but Jotaro also guesses it was okay to be dramatic about you. You were worth being dramatic about.

“Fuuuuuck…”

Your soft curse pierces through the room as you finally lower yourself down onto the man’s cock. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the lightning that crashed from outside his room had struck the both of you at the same time, causing electricity to strike through your bodies.

Jotaro didn’t didn’t mean to, but because of the shivering warmth of you around his cock, he accidentally bumped his head back too far and hit it against the headboard.

With an airy laugh, you endearingly caress the back of Jotaro’s head with one of your hands.

“You okay?”

Jotaro grunts in reply, his head keening forward in pain but all you do is soothingly rub at the tender spot. Even whilst trying to handle the colossal stretch of his girth, you still had concern for his wellbeing. Jotaro hates that he feels his heart (and cock) twitch at the sentiment.

“Just…move.” He dismisses as his hips are already in motion to buck upwards into you.

You try to steady yourself by pressing a hand to his bare chest, your laughter still radiant as you notice the signs of his eager embarrassment, but you try and adjust to his request. You continue to mould yourself down onto his shaft, his tip feeling every ridge of your ribbed canal.

”Easy, big boy.” You breath. “Just gimme a sec to adjust, alright? You’re not exactly the smallest in size.”

Jotaro didn’t voice it but you knew he had heard you. You could also tell that your implicit comments were going to his head — It was evident in the way he poked his tongue out of his mouth to wet his lips and the affirming grip his fingers buried into your flesh.

Now fully sat on top of his dick, you felt your stomach and walls concave inwards, as if wanting to create a second skin around him. Jotaro leaned his head back again. This time, more carefully, but he did so in order to be able to watch your face more diligently.

He’s not sure why, but he found himself entranced by the workings of your features. The soft curve of your nose, the way your eyelashes just about fluttered over your ebony cheeks or even how plump your now smudged glossed lips looked. As if nature was on his side for once, lightning struck again and the flash of light allowed Jotaro to catch a shadowed glimpse of your face above him and god, was he mesmerised.

Even whilst only temporarily cockwarming, your features were screwed as they already showed signs of being too fucked out to function.

The laboured breathing between the both of you mingled against one another but you were suddenly feeling a wisp of self consciousness at how fiercely the man’s eyes were peering at you. To save face, you dipped your forehead against Jotaro’s.

“Aite.” You whisper into his mouth but more to yourself.

It was obvious you were still preparing yourself to ride him. Even after all this time, his size would never be something you could easily adjust to and so in all his understanding mercy, Jotaro offers his support by running his thumbs over the skin of your stomach.

Weirdly, the reassuring gesture worked.

Rolling your lips inwards, you slowly lift yourself up quarter way off of Jotaro’s dick to then sink back down. At just that, the both of you let out the most desperate of moans.

Jotaro can’t help momentarily close his eyes, the pure sensation of a cunt wrapped around his cock would never get old but there’s just something about you, yours, that sent him reeling. How you felt so supple under him; your peppery whimpers only his to hear. Jotaro doesn’t think he's a possessive man; what wasn’t for him, wasn’t for him. If it was, then it’d find a way back.

But then when it comes to you, Jotaro finds that he’s jumping hoops just so the same principle doesn’t apply.

It doesn’t matter if you were meant for him or not, Jotaro needed you to be for him. He hates himself even worse now because he catches himself thinking that if anyone else was to have you, he’d probably feel heartbreak. But how could he feel heartbreak over someone that wasn’t his?

You only made little spouts of forward movement, the position not entirely the best for maximum speed, but the way you laid one hand back to the side of your tail bone so that you could move your hips more made the black haired man groan. Jotaro reached his own hands down but towards your ass — splaying open the meat of your hind to help give you more of a stretch, to help you take his fat cock.

And gosh, did that help.

You swivelled your hips forwards in a slow gyration. You didn’t even move upwards but rather you kept all of Jotaro inside of you as you grinded on him back and forth.

With a low moan, Jotaro met your stroke quota, his hips passionately grinding up into you as his eyes shot open.

“Fuck. Fuck, I love you.” He mumbled down towards where the both of your sexes met.

It’s only as the words left his mouth that Jotaro realised what he had said.

He felt your pussy clench over him at them and in retrospect, he regretted that he had imposed such a heavy statement onto you. But alas, as understanding as ever, you made the situation light hearted.

With a laugh humbled by his large girth, you hautily grinned down at the man.

“Pussy drunk already, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Jotaro’s face is screwed in annoyance but he reaches forwards to take a swipe at your clit. Instantly your jestering words are caught within the back of your throat and suddenly Jotaro has a sick smile on his face.

Taking that as a reigns for control, Jotaro plants his feet onto the mattress and his knees at 45 degrees. With one hand still grappling at your ass, Jotaro uses it to help lift you up and down over his cock. You take the aid with ease, using the leverage to lean forwards and simultaneously twerk over his dick every time you come into landing.

This helps a lot with pace and so once you’ve adjusted to his sizing, you both speed up the sex, the action becoming more robust and raunchier than before.

“Shit, I really wanna cum on this dick today.” You mumble.

You slightly lean backwards so that you can look down at Jotaro, his lusted out expression making his handsome face even more delectable. If you had time, you definitely wanted to ride it.

“Just wanna cream your dick up. Wet it with this gush ‘n’ make it all dirty so I can… fuck, so I can lick it clean for you.”

Jotaro lets out a grumbled huff through his nose. His concentration was focused on bopping your cunt over his cock but he was listening, you know he was, because the way he was gripping your ass cheeks was with deterministic attitude of a man in agreeal.

Still, you wanted to hear the word from the mouth of the bull itself.

“You gon’ let me do that? Gon let me make a mess on you then clean it up?”

Jotaro makes another grunt of a sound, his attention briefly unhad but not for long as he takes the time to glance up at you.

“Do what you want.”

With a fresh new wave of wanton, you dance up and down onto the man’s slick dick. Your concentration was so fierce, the black haired man thought you’d scream at him. But alas, your voice cooed only the sweetest commands — his proof of ownership.

“Yeah, take this pussy, baby. It’s all yours. Use it like a personal fleshlight if you have to, fuck. Just use it.” You almost sob.

Jotaro loves how dirty you speak to him, how your rumbustious attitude riles him up. If anything, he loves watching the two of you fuck even better — the contrast of your beautiful brown to his cream tan; it’s ilicit and works more than too well together. It’s addicting, it’s sexy.

But despite having you keen over his fat cock, Jotaro wants more of you.

The man bends his head forward, mouth lax as he makes several attempts to latch his warm mouth around your bouncing nipple. He succeeds on the third go but once he’s there, it makes all the difference.

A new type of glorification leaves your mouth at the raw feeling of Jotaro swirling his wet tongue around your now perky nub. He suckles and bites — but never too hard — always just enough to send electrifying strikes throughout your synapses.

“Fuck, Jojo.” You whisper, the heat buried within the pits of your stomach brewing by the second.

At the mention of his nickname, Jotaro looks up at you with furrowed eyebrows and darkened eyes. You know he doesn’t like it, but he refuses to unlatch himself from your breasts to complain and so he looks anything but intimidating.

Still, it makes him look all the hotter. Like an angry yet domesticated canine trying it’s best to establish dominion. He wanted power but he was too conditioned to your heed; he’d eat anything from the palm of your hand.

“Ouuuuh, yes, yes, yes, yes. Shiiiiit, Jojo right there. Yes, right there. Right there, baby, right there.”

Jotaro briefly glances down to see how there’s already a frothy ring of cream around the base of his dick. You were always so juicy and excessively wet when it came to him. If anything, he wonders whether you were ever this messy for anyone else?

He wouldn’t admit it, but he absolutely hates thinking about someone else having you.

You’re already whimpering in his ears despite having just got here and still using the name he so called ‘hates’, but Jotaro can’t even get himself to feel angry at you. Not when he thinks about just how much he wants you.

“Ouh, fuck, Jojo. I’m so close.” You drone.

He moans back but his voice is grumbly, despite how deep he’s still fucking into you. Another flash of lightning outside contours the shape of your body and reminds the man that he’s particularly fond of you — more so than other people.

“You’re so di-disobedient sometimes.” He ponders against your breast.

And Jotaro suddenly realises that he wants to keep you closer than just an occasional cockwarmer despite your mischievous strides.

Your head was dipped, belly caving and pussy walls clenched — no recollection of the words Jotato was muttering at you. Although none of it mattered as feelings of ecstasy started to race up your spine and branch out to your limbs and the orgasm that you knew was coming couldn’t be delayed any longer.

You needed to get him out.

“Jota…Jo’daro… I said I’m close.”

“I know.”

The man however kept on pounding into you, the sound of his balls slapping viciously against his ass and your sexes slightly out of sync.

A small whimper leaves your throat at Jotaro’s lack of recognition.

“I-i-i-it means pull out—”

“I know.” Jotaro growls at you.

Your cries become more exuberant as Jotaro doesn’t relent or let up. He continues fucking up into you, the tightening of his balls indicating his own impending orgasm but he doesn’t voice it.

He has no need to, especially not with the hidden corrupt intentions he had for you.

“I need to have you…for myself. I can’t let anyone else…have you or brand you…spoil you.”

Jotaro lifts his head up to kiss just underneath your chin but he doesn’t land them because as he’s nearing his limit, his physical control is faltering too — especially because he’s so excited for the gift he has for you.

“I’ll give you…fuck, fuck, I’ll give you my seed. Then no one else…no one else can even think of touching m-my property. My family.”

It’s too hazy, too exhilarating to comprehend what Jotaro’s telling you but you know it’s something possessive. Something that is an attempt to solidify your place in his life.

Your moans become more feathered, heightened in pitch as you end up stilling your pussy in a tight clench and then rutting yourself to completion over the man’s cock. A crazy warm warmth spreads all over your body, mouth lax as you keen forward in eye rolling orgasm.

As your body jolts in sporadic washes of post-orgasmic waves, the black haired man’s eyes almost pop with how possessive your clenching pussy walls keep him connected to you.

That was pretty much all Jotaro needed before he himself was stilling inside of you, hips flushed to your ass as he firmly pumped his hot cum straight into your womb — no denial that it would conjure with your eggs and form a sign of marriage between you both.

As the two of you came down from your high, the settling feeling of what Jotaro had enforced on you went about unsaid.

You didn’t even decide to unlatch yourself from Jotaro’s cock. You think maybe if you let him think long enough about what he did, he’d unplug himself from your painted canals, begrudgingly get up and chuck on a pair of joggers and his black anorak as he mumbled something about ‘being back in five’ as he goes to retrieve you ‘an alphabet plan’ from the convenience opposite the road.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, all he does is soothingly rub a hand up and down the expanse of your back as he coerces you into a litter of slow and sensual kisses, his cock occasionally hiccuping inside of you.

And you comply because you believe Jotaro, more than anyone, knows what he’s done.

This was your best friend you were talking about. If this was what he wanted, then who were you to deny him? Sure, it might have complicated a few things but you’d deal with that crossroad when need be.

If anything, the rain outside reminded you that really, you could be anywhere else, but instead you had chosen to be right there and then within a special friend’s particularly warm and filling embrace.

#and that’s how jolyne was made uwu #jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo #jotaro scenarios #jotaro headcanons #jotaro imagines #jotaro x black reader #jotaro smut #jjba smut #jjba x black reader #jojos bizarre adventure

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8axolotlsinatrenchcoat · 3 months

Text

Rough patch

tw for sh, body dysmorphia, suicide attempt, cumulus and copia being sweethearts inspired by @mutt-sys

Rain wasn't doing the best, and he could tell no one else noticed, maybe a few siblings of sin did. he knew his pack had replaced him, with the two new additions to the band and making sure that they felt welcome, rain had been forgotten.

it hurt, rain felt the rejection in his bond mark that he got the first day that he joined the band. it started off subtle, Swiss avoiding his touches sand Dew being more aggressive than normal.

All of the ghouls were in a poly type relationship, so he didn't want to make a fuss when they saw dew and phantom curled on the couch, or aurora and swiss baking together. they didn't even acknowledge the water ghoul, who just turned on his heels with tears in his eyes.

Copia had came and checked on them, after the third day he skipped mess hall. The singer being worried for his once happy and always talking ghoul that turned to a hoodie and long pants wearing (even though the ministry's ac broke and it was hot as hell outside.). Rain managed to convince the worried papa that he was fine and that he's been eating enough.

Band practice was another story, Everyone had been avoiding him for days now, Rain was oddly silent but no one seemed to notice or how after and practice ended how he rushed to his room, trying to keep his sniffles to his self.

curling up in his bed with his mates hoodie that barely even had the ashy firewood that dew smelled like, he decided that if they didn't want him anymore, he was done. it was late at night, the moon had just hit the top of the trees.

Rain silently walked past the sleeping Dew and Aurora, tears and breath hitching, as he tried to shut the door as quietly as possible. he whispered a soft goodbye to the home he grew to love.

walking down the moonlit path, he knew this way better than anyone, the abbeys lake was one of the things he loved, and to die by its hold would be ideal. shedding dews hoodie and swisses old sweatpants, he threw himself into the lake, letting the sting of the salt water hitting his claw marks take over him. now rain wasn't a saltwater ghoul, he was a freshwater. the water pooled into his gills and his lungs. his hands went to his throat, sharp claws digging into the flesh, blue blood starting to stain the water around him. in his mind he wanted his partners, to be coddled and told that he was loved, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. as his eyes fluttered shut he saw copia.

next thing he knows, Rain awoke in the infirmary,, bandages covered his neck, stomach and arms. But rain didn't care, no one was here for him, no one truly cared. finally rain let himself sob, finally breaking down as he realized he wasn't truly apart of the pack anymore.

thats when the apathy and wall building started, every time someone started to talk to him, he hissed or ignored them, keeping himself locked in his room, dew and swiss's things in a box discarded in a corner.

he had lost a lot of weight, but copia started to join him in his room, eating and talking about the problems rain was having. he could tell copia was mad, and he begged the other not to say anything. Rain asked copia to drop off the box infront of Dew or swiss' door.

Rain was distancing heavily, to the point that Cumulus noticed and finally pulled the other to her room, forcing him to sit on her bed, because she smelt a tang of blood on him.

"rain, baby please talk to me." she says, running her hands through the water ghouls hair, who weakly hissed at her, but soon started sobbing as she coxed out what has been going on and how utterly alone he felt.

and to say cumulus was mad was an understatement, but for now, she had a sad ghoul to cheer up.

#rain ghoul #ghost bc #angst #jaspwrites

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miss-multi45 · 8 months

Note

Hello there! How are you doing? I'm a new follower and I just wanted to say that I love your writing so much.

If you're up to writing this, you don't have to: could you please write the ghouls/ghoulettes or Sleep Token vessels/vesselettes with a gn reader who just has a collection of the 90s furbies (if you don't know what those are, they're these electronic toys that would interact with you. However, they'd randomly turn on and start talking. Even if the thing didn't have batteries) on display in a shelf...

But, instead of looking like this:

The furbies look like this (if you want more pictures then just search for cursed furbies and you'll find the most cursed looking things ever):

I love cursed furby pictures, they're so funny to me. Anyway, if you do want to write this, please take as long as you need to write it. I hope you gave a good day/night/evening and don't forget to take care of yourself!

omg Y E S

swiss

creeped the fuck out by it.

"uhm baby..why do you have a homemade demon in your room?"

why do you have that when you can have him?

just don't get him involved and you're good.

sodo

admires your room.

"good work. my mate, making nightmares."

would steal one to scare the shit out of papa.

papa thought it was one of his rats but mutilated.

rain

*shifts uncomfortably*

he doesn't like them, but he can cope.

don't leave him in a room with one. he'll either cry or hang from the ceiling light to avoid interaction with it.

phantom

"babe what the everloving fuck are these?"

how on earth did you disembowel a furby?

might join you if he's riled up.

aether

"these are my C H I L D R E N ."

he loves his goofy goober and their possessed furby collection.

to creep out the other ghouls, he will bring it backstage to a show and run his claws through its fur while cackling.

mountain

doesn't make eye contact with them.

he's not scared, he's just a little concerned.

once growled at one because it touched him during a blood moon.

"HOLY FUCK-"

omega

doesn't care

"whatever makes you happy, puppy."

watches with love in his eyes whenever you spook a ghoul.

alpha

looks at you with judgment in his eyes.

"kitty, how did you discover this as a hobby?"

stares at your collection for a long period of time.

ifrit

encourages the behaviour.

"i will raise hell and its deepest darkest pits with you, my sweet little lamb."

makes you sit on his lap while you make them.

aurora

Y E S .

"i want to make one with you."

don't question it, let her do it.

she will make some absolute abominations.

cirrus

cool.

might encourage the behaviour, depending on how bone chilling the furbies are.

"..what did you do it? it looks boiled."

she means that in the nicest way possible.

cumulus

scared tbh.

"i don't really want to pet that. but it looks nice??"

will do everything but touch one.

mist

"fuck yeah."

makes amazing ones.

give her credit, she will hang one up on the Ministry chandelier.

vessel

he's seen worse.

your creations don't even scare him, he likes them

thinks they're hilarious.

what the fuck.

he'll hold one at arms length and no closer than that.

they creep him out.

iii

heehee

fucking loves it.

they're so out of pocket, and so is he.

nice.

don't stop making them, they're entertaining.

makes some in secret.

vesselettes

stand there for 37 seconds exactly, then walk towards them and adopt them.

#my writing #sleep token x reader #vessel sleep token x reader #ii sleep token x reader #iii sleep token x reader #iv sleep token x reader #ghost band x reader #nameless ghouls x reader #nameless ghoulettes x reader

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portaltothevoid · 1 year

Text

you're losing me part vii -- copia x reader, ex!terzo x reader

warnings: overhearing gossip, angst, more angst, emotional whiplash, manhandling, brief violence, self-translated italian

taglist: @bitchywitchygardener @copias-juicebox @da-rulah @deetz-ghuleh @fishwithtitz (shout out to hannah for being a massive help with my writer's block!) @ivycasket @water-ghoulette @zombiesnips-blog

word count: 7.1k

Sunlight escaped from the edges of the curtains. Somehow you had managed to fall into a dreamless sleep when your tears began to dry. You tried to jam your eyes shut again, willing yourself to sleep once more, but of course, once you were awake, your mind wouldn’t stop. Then your grumbling stomach started its own protest.

Quietly, you slipped out of bed to make yourself semi-presentable before you headed down to the cafeteria to get some semblance of a breakfast. It was still early, not yet 7:30, so you’d hope that it would be relatively quiet. Even still, your plan was to just keep your head down, grab your food, and head back. Naturally, this would have been a fool proof plan, except for that fact you had a ghoul flanking you the entire time.

You let out a heavy breath through your nose, turning around to face the ghoul in the hallway outside of the cafeteria. “Would you mind just… waiting here while I grab food? I’m gonna eat it back in my room.”

“It’s just… I have orders to keep a close eye on you…” he said shyly.

“I mean, it’s a big open room. I’m sure you can see the whole time if you just wait by the doorway or something,” you grumbled.

“Okay, that could work,” the ghoul said very quietly. His shoulders slumped as he awkwardly leaned against the door frame.

“Look… wait, I’m sorry, you’re new I think? I mean, you look familiar, but what should I call you?”

“Rain. They call me Rain.” He started to perk up at your willingness to take even this slight effort to get to know him.

“Okay. Look, Rain, this isn’t personal. I just… There's been a lot going on and I just don’t know how many people are going to be there. I don’t know what they’ve heard, because you know how fast word spreads around here. The less attention I draw the better and having a ghoul at my heels would probably turn some heads. As long as you can see me, you’re still following orders, right?” He happily nodded. “I’ll just be a minute.”

You took a deep breath before you went in. The room was sparse with people, but enough were scattered about for you to feel your anxiety start to bubble. You could feel every eye in the room on you, even if it was for the briefest of moments. Conversations hushed as you went by and then resumed with frantic whispers.

Just as you planned, you made a beeline towards the growing line to get your food and get out. You had grabbed a to-go bag to fill, but your attention drifted to the conversation of the group of sisters in front of you.

“You still haven’t told us why you decided to join us. You’re never up this early when you stay the night with him!” one girl prompted. Easily, you could have skirted around them, but curiosity (and being a glutton for punishment) got the better of you.

You could tell another rolled her eyes by the way her head tilted back slightly. “Ugh, because there was no point in staying! He kept waking me up, because he kept saying her name in his sleep. Over and over. So it got to the point I tried to wake him up, and you know, distract him, and I don’t know if he just wasn’t into it or what, but he, like… He couldn’t get it up.”

“What?!”

“Are you serious?” the third girl asked, dumbfounded.

“Why would I make something up like this about Papa!” she hissed.

You stood perfectly still. Not daring to make any movements to draw attention to yourself. It took every ounce of your self control to stay calm. This was par the course for Terzo, you knew this more than anyone. Clearly he was burying his issues in someone else. You didn’t let the tension rise up in your body until the girl went on to gossip about you.

“Like, I get it, she dumped him and he seemed a little sad about it last night, but I mean, he invited me over and seemed like he really wanted to not think about her. But he woke up, like, a completely different person.”

“Maybe she did a spell or something?”

“Good for her if she did! I would have done the same thing.”

“You would have waited ‘til after you lost count how many times he cheated on you?” Your ex’s groupie dryly laughed. “Come on. She would have done a spell or two ages ago.”

“Well, did you hear what Mary and Agatha saw the other day?” Two of the girls shook their heads. “She bolted out of his office looking crazed. Like she was possessed or something, which I thought was a myth? Anyway, her eyes were all black and she looked like she wanted to kill them.”

“Okay, but Agatha exaggerates everything. I don’t believe a word she says. They probably just had another fight or something stupid and she was just super pissed. Plus she left him for that awkward cardinal. Like, ew? Talk about a downgrade! Just because she fucked up doesn’t mean she needs to go and ruin it for the rest of us.”

Rain started shifting in your peripheral, inching closer along the room’s perimeter. He could sense your blood was starting to boil as you listened to what this one group of siblings was saying about, well, everything happening in your life at the moment. You could only imagine how fast word would spread and what it could turn into. Despite wanting to bash this girl’s head into the counter, you knew enough not to cause a scene. As they waited at the omelet station, you finally breezed past them, having had enough. You needed to get out of there before you acted on your simmering anger.

You threw two premade cups of fruit salad into the bag, a couple cinnamon rolls, and some prepared breakfast burritos. A loud gasp escaped one of the girl’s lips. You didn’t have to hear the whispers to know they were asking each other if it was really you in front of them and if you heard them. Shooting them an icy glare, they froze in their tracks. Feeling your heart rate increase, you could tell the darkness was starting to flow into your eyes. With a shake of your head to dispel your eyes from turning fully and a sigh of disgust, you made your leave. You hoped in vain that tiny little show would be enough to scare them into shutting up, but a part of you knew better. Maybe it was subtle enough that they didn’t notice.

Rain scurried behind you at your heels to keep up. “Are… are you okay?” Rain asked quietly. “Your Eminence?” he nervously added, attempting to appease you with the formality.

“I’m fine. I just need to get back to the room. And stay there. Probably for the rest of my life.”

“Were they mean to you? I knew you were upset, but I didn’t want to get too close and make it worse...”

“I’m just the center of this week’s hot gossip. No one knows what the hell is going on, so I get that they’re taking whatever they’re hearing and running with it, but to actually overhear it… It literally took all my strength to stay calm.” You let out an exasperated breath of air as your hand was on the doorknob of your safe haven.

“I think you did a fine job,” he said with a little pat on your shoulder. You couldn’t help but smile at his attempt to cheer you up.

“Well, thank you, Rain.”

Just before you went inside, he spoke up again, “Maybe next time… I can go for you. So you don’t have to deal with idiots.”

You laughed. “I will take you up on that. I’ll let you know if I need anything, okay?” He nodded as he resumed his watchful position outside your door.

Once inside, you took a seat at the countertop that divided the kitchen and living room area and set the bag in front of you. You rung your hands through your hair. Too lost in your own thoughts of the rumors being telephoned around the abbey, you jumped at the sound of Copia’s voice.

“Everything alright, amore?” he asked cautiously.

Without looking at him you just gave him a single thumbs-up with a monotone “Fan-fucking-tastic.”

His eyes widened nervously at your sarcasm. He’d never seen you this constantly snappy, not unless there was something major you were avoiding dealing with. Cannoli squeaked, letting his human know he was ready for breakfast, which pulled Copia out of his frozen state.

Every movement felt like you were trudging through mud as you forced yourself to take the food out of the bag. You opened the fruit salad and picked away at it one piece at a time.

“You went to get food?”

“Yeah. Shoulda just sent Rain.”

“Rain?”

“The ghoul on watch.”

“Oh… eh… what happened?”

“What do you think happened?” you barked with a dismissive wave of your hand. “These girls were talking shit. Terzo wouldn’t fuck one of them, because apparently he was too busy whining about me in his sleep. And the jury’s still out on what the hell they think is wrong with me. Am I possessed? Was I just really pissed off at Terzo? Only good thing is that no one trusts one of the sisters that saw me, so no one knows what’s going on. Not that that’s gonna stop everyone from talking about it.”

Copia nodded thoughtfully as he nibbled on one of the cinnamon rolls. You let out a scoff before you continued, “We really make quite the pair now. The ‘awkward cardinal’ and the freak.” As you made air quotes around how the girl referred to him, you missed how the crease between his eyebrows deepened and he pressed his lips together. “I really don’t know how I can show my face anywhere around here again.”

He knew what you meant. He knew you were referring to the awakening, to all the crazy events that had happened to you, to all the shit the siblings already talked about him. There was a part of him, albeit a small part, that still felt the sting of your inclusion of him. Just because he had you now didn’t mean he always would. “It gets easier to ignore,” he mumbled.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure I’ll be able to ignore all the shit they’ll be saying about me when they realize I’m turning into a half-demon and suddenly outrank a majority of the senior clergy. Yeah, that’ll be so easy to ignore. Especially when they start handing out the pitchforks.” He sighed, before attempting a better explanation, but you cut him off. “You don’t get it, Copia. You don’t know how close I was to literally bashing this girl’s head in. I had to fight it with every fiber of my being. It– it was barbaric.”

“No. It was infernal,” he simply stated. He noted how the shame took over you as you sunk back in the chair, how your shoulders drooped, how you stared at your hands in your lap, probably picking at a fingernail. Even still, your tone contradicted your demeanor. He saw right through the front you were attempting to put up. He couldn’t understand why you were being so standoffish about what you were going through. Sure, sometimes it took a bit of coaxing to get things out of you, but it was him you had always confided in. He couldn’t figure out how to get through to you, let alone help you, which caused his frustration to grow. “And you’re right,” he continued, his voice now sharp. “I don’t get it, because I don’t know anything about what’s happening to you. How can I when this is as much as I’ve been able to get out of you in days?”

Your eyes shot up to his as they turned to slits. “Oh, I am so sorry for not being an openbook as I’m trying to process everything that’s been happening to me. I’m sorry I was left completely in the dark by everyone. So, excuse me, for not being able to express everything immediately.”

“Amore, you’re missing the point–”

“No, I think you are.”

Copia shook his head with an exasperated eyeroll of his own as he threw his hands in the air. “Then why don’t I just leave you to it, hm? Process what happened and figure out how you can let someone besides yourself help you for once. I’ll be in my office if you decide you want to talk instead of taking this shit out on me.”

You could feel the darkness cloud your eyes as you watched him leave. Your breaths increased and your hands twitched by your sides as you fought the urge to put him in a similar position as you had in Sister Imperator’s office. When the door shut, and he was gone, you deflated. The anger dissipated as quickly as it appeared and you were left with the weight of the exchanged words pressing down on you. Tears welled in your eyes and yet again you found yourself sobbing.

There was no choice but to have your defenses up. You had to for Copia’s sake. It was better to fight with him than to have him know the truth, than to have him know the real monster you were and what you had done, than to have him gone.

As this crying session ran its course, you managed to drag yourself to bed. Exhaustion finally hit you like a freight train and you wanted nothing more than to sleep. To forget about everything that happened and was going to happen.

When you finally woke up, you opened your eyes to see your phone perched softly on the pillow next to you, which was nothing more than a black mirror. You knew you hadn’t received a single notification, but you still kept checking all your apps in case you might have missed something. By this time, it was late afternoon, almost evening, and still no sign of Copia. He was the least of your concerns at this point. A text from him wasn’t what you were anxiously expecting. There was no way Terzo had forgotten about you going to his office today. Especially not after knowing how much you had clearly weighed on his mind last night.

You ended up pacing around the living room, drowning in anxiety over what could happen if you didn’t go see him in between bouts of replaying yesterday’s events and bathing in self-loathing. Contemplating the “what ifs” seemed worse than just going to his office and getting it over with.

You knew you could protect yourself. You knew what happened before could never happen again. In all actuality, he should be terrified of you. The power was yours, not his, and yet he was still puppeting you. You couldn’t stop thinking, stop worrying. What would he do? Would he retaliate again? Coerce you into who the hell knows what? He was still in control and you wanted to take it back. Face to face. Shoving your phone in your pocket, you strode out of the apartment.

Do not follow me. I don’t care what orders you have. You thought harshly to whatever ghoul was currently on guard as you breezed by them.

You kept your head down as you made your way through the abbey. The last thing you needed to deal with was more fearful stares from the siblings of sin who crossed paths with you. You were still you despite what they had heard. Well, that made you realize maybe they had a point to be cautious of you. The more you thought about it, the more the realization sunk in that you really didn’t know who you were at this point. Everything you thought you knew about yourself and your relationships seemed to have imploded.

At least every ghoul you came across gave you a respectful nod with a muted “Your Eminence,” as you passed by them. You couldn’t fault the fear that spread through the siblings. This was unknown to literally everyone. You barely knew what was going on with your life, never mind knowing what could possibly be said to assuage their mounting fears.

Pulling yourself from your thoughts, you finally found yourself outside this dreadful door yet again. You stood there, unable to decide if you should just barge right in or be polite and knock. The fact that this was your Papa was now lost on you. Never again would you treat him with that respect. He was nothing more than a figurehead. You answered to those actually on the Infernal Court, not some weak excuse of a human substitute. With that, you opened the door and then knocked.

Terzo had his head over his desk, his hands in his hair, gripping it like he was seconds away from ripping it out. He snapped his head up to your direction once he heard the door open. Initially, his expression was painful. Eyes watery as if he could cry at any moment. He relaxed into a soft smile when he saw it was you approaching his desk. “Cara mia, che sorpresa (my dear, what a surprise).”

“Sorpresa?” you repeated with a suppressed laugh. “You literally texted me yesterday I had to come see you.”

He furrowed his brows and reached for his phone with a defeated sigh. Taking a moment to find what you were talking about, he scrolled through his messages before a smirk overtook his features. “Come potrei dimenticare (How could I forget)?” he murmured to himself with a breathy chuckle. Looking up at you through his lashes, his expression darkened as his pupils started to dilate from his lust. He gave you a crooked smile as he opened a drawer, tossing a small ball of red fabric at you.

You caught it in disgust. Barely holding it between your index finger and thumb, the red thong dangled delicately. A cold laugh escaped your lips and you threw it back at him. “Coglione fottuto (You fucking idiot)! These aren’t even mine,” you sneered as you hurled it back at him. His mouth hung open as he stared at them in his hands. He flicked his eyes back at you incredulously. “I wore the black ones? Ring any bells?”

He shook his head in disbelief at his own mistake as he tossed the red ones back in the draw. He ruffled around for a moment, before he held out a lacy black thong. “This one?” he asked dismally.

“Wow! You did it! You can keep them as your prize, because there’s no way in Hell I want those back,” you praised sarcastically.

He didn’t even hit you with a witty comeback. The only thing he could do was let out a fatigued breath as he pushed his chair back slightly, leaning his head back with his eyes closed. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying this. “Aw, someone having a bad day?” you purred, your sickly sweet voice feigning affection. His white eye shot open to glare at you before he went back to his resting state.

You knew you should just leave his office to go about the rest of your day with a mild sense of peace, maybe go and find Copia to apologize for your outbursts. A part of you wanted to egg Terzo on. You wanted to fight with him. You wanted – and you hated to admit it – to see how far you could push him before he tried something again. You were trying to seek more punishment because of what had happened, even though it was no fault of your own. You wanted to see how far either of you had to go before lines were crossed.

There were times you admired and revered your own caring personality; however, this was not one of those times. You rolled your eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh of your own before you stomped over to him. “Seriously? Not even a snappy response? Are you feeling okay?” you asked as you put the back of your hand to his forehead.

Eyes still closed, his hand shot up, his thumb stroked small circles on your wrist, while still having a tight hold on you. When he finally opened his mismatched eyes, they searched yours, almost pleading with you to understand something you couldn’t quite place. “I’ve barely slept. Not since… There were nightmares,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed by this confession. You didn’t react, just waited for him to continue. “I’ve– They were so real…” he said, barely audible, eyes unfocused as he recalled them. He shook his head and met your eyes again. “I… I’m… So I’ve been here for, I don’t know how long now. I’ve tried everything to distract myself. I started to draft sermons. Hell, I even tried to get the tedious paperwork done. I can’t focus. On anything. Nothing makes sense. It’s like… like everything is so… How you say? Muddled. Everything is muddled.” At some point during his confession, his hand moved from your wrist to take your hand in his. You let him lace his fingers with yours as you belatedly put two and two together. You had to try to hide the smug satisfaction that your hex had almost instantaneous effects.

He now held your hand in both of his. When he looked up at you again, his eyes were glassy from tears. “I couldn’t stop thinking a-about… what I-I’ve done… about what I did to you…”

You let your mouth hang open. Letting go of his pride was something of a rarity when it came to Terzo. But then you remembered. You yanked your hand from his. Your shock turned into an icy glare. “What the fuck are you getting at?” you snapped.

“I’m not getting at anything! I’m just telling you…”

“What? That you’re sorry? Do you want me to forgive you? Do you even think I can after everything?”

“No! Sathanas, no. You shouldn’t.” He looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head slightly, like he was fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. “Non mi lo merito (I don’t deserve it)...” he mumbled, barely moving his lips.

You leaned back on his desk. Sighing again as you crossed your arms. “So what happens now?”

“Do you love him?” he asked you suddenly.

“Excuse me, what?”

“Copia. Do you love him?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“It’s a simple question, tesoro. Do you love him or not?”

“This is ridiculous. We are so not having this conversation.” You pushed off the desk as you scoffed, shaking your head. You weren’t enraged by his question, more so shocked by it. You still couldn’t bring yourself to storm out of his office. The part of you that wanted to stay kept you in that room, so you just began pacing.

“Why won’t you just answer the question?”

“Because we don’t have this kind of relationship anymore? Sweet Lucifer! You… You know what you are?”

“Waiting for you to answer a sì o no question?”

“You are rude, uncouth, and presumptuous. The only reason I’m even here is because I was practically having a panic attack over what you would do to me if I didn’t show up! Clearly you’re too busying brooding to even think about fucking me over. So, I’m leaving now. Wonderful talk. Let’s not do it again sometime,” you said as you began to step away from behind his desk. You didn’t get very far when you felt him grab your hand. His grip was firm, but not in a menacing way.

“I– I want you to be sure you are making the right choice… Please, don’t go, dolcezza. Per favore,” he pleaded with you.

That was all it took for him to piss you off.

“Making the right choice? Making the right choice?” you repeated through your clenched jaw. Ripping your hand from his, your body moved before you could even register what it was doing. You shoved him so he was pressing against the back of his oversized chair, before you climbed into the chair, straddling him. You took a fistful of his hair in your hand, pulling his head back so he was looking up at you. Your other hand flew up to wrap around his throat, fingers digging into his jugular. You could feel his pulse quicken under your fingertips and you would have been lying if you said it didn’t delight you. “What makes you think after you went behind my back, fucking ruined me, and fucking manipulated me… You tore my heart out only to put it back together to just break it again. Over. And over. And over. What makes you think I would ever choose you?”

“Allora puniscimi (Then punish me),” he croaked.

You lit the fire, but this time it felt different. When it was sparked from wrath you felt it consume your entire body. This time you felt its spark begin in your chest and radiate outward. Its epicenter stemming from your core. You refused to even acknowledge the fact lust was the probable cause this time.

Further tightening your grip in his hair, he watched your eyes flood with inky darkness. Any other time, your dominance over him would have turned him to putty. He stayed there, rigid, under your hold. His heartbeat quickened even faster from fear. Arousal was nowhere to be found.

Your hand continued to constrict around his throat. Then you pressed your knees to his sides like you were trying to squeeze the life out of him painfully and slowly. You felt nothing beneath you. No bulge. No twitch. Nothing. All you heard was his strained breathing and near whimpers. Too riled up, you ignored the crushing disappointment. You were like a predator that had been promised a chase with its prey, only to be met with finding its leg already stuck in a trap. Forcefully, you tossed his head to the side as you got off him, a sound of disgust rushed past your lips. He only coughed and rubbed his throat.

You should have been gloating. Your spell made him fold, made him suffer. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t satisfying. You wanted to feel him break under your hands. With an exhale, the fire was smothered and that left you questioning if your revenge quest was even worth it.

“You really are that fucked up over this that you can’t even get it up?” you said as you returned to your prior stance, leaning against his desk.

He glared at you. “Or it was the fact I was fearing for my life.”

“Don’t even try that with me. Don’t act like now, suddenly, you’re trying to actually deal with your feelings instead of fucking them away.”

He shot up and stood a handbreadth away from you. “People can change, dolcezza.” He planted his hands on either side of you, caging you in. The desk dug into your back as you tried to recoil from him. “If I wasn’t doing that, what do you think we’d be doing right now, hm?” He moved his hand up like he was about to brush the fallen hair out of your face.

You sucked in your lip as your eyes turned to slits. No other muscles dared to move. Your mind was struggling between the choice to shove him away from you or pull him as close as you could to you. Could your spell have brought out the Terzo you thought you knew – the one you had loved – at the price of his impotence?

He didn’t allow you to make that choice as his hand quickly fell and he pushed off the desk, walked around his chair, and began to pace with his hands folded behind his back. “In my dream, my nightmare, I had to watch you die. Over and over again. Because of me. No matter what I did, I lost you. Naturalmente, when I woke up, I realized… that already happened.” He paused to cast a forlorn glance at you. The second your eyes met his, he resumed his pacing and his monologue. “From then, I tortured myself thinking of every single thing I did to you. It was like I could feel. I could feel your heart shattering… every single time. Then I remembered the first time I saw you. Your awestruck look as you looked around the chapel. The electricity when your eyes met mine, before you shyly looked away. I remembered every moment that made me fall in love with you.”

You couldn’t watch him any longer. Your eyes tried to burn a hole in the floor in front of you. It’s a trick, it’s a trick, it’s a trick… you repeated to yourself. So lost in your mantra, you didn’t even realize he was standing before you until you felt a finger gently lift up your chin to turn your gaze towards his two toned one.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I don’t deserve you. And I never did. But there’s nothing I couldn’t give you. There’s nothing I’d deny you.” He let go of your chin to reach past you to get something off his desk. Your bodies flush against each other for a brief moment. You cursed the shockwave it sent up your body. He held a small black box out to you. Your eyebrows immediately pulled down in anger as he held up one hand as if to slow you down. “I need you to know I had every intention…” He let out a breath before he briefly shut his eyes, almost wincing. “I already had this before I– before the first time I–” his voice faltered. He swallowed hard to regain his composure. “You were it for me. I wanted you by my side. Only you. But every time I looked at this, every time I thought of giving this to you… Cazzo (fuck)!” he hissed the expletive.

Rapidly, he blinked as he looked up to the ceiling, desperately trying to stop tears from spilling. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth before he continued again. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I knew you deserved better. And I knew I couldn’t have someone as wonderful as you. At least not for much longer. True happiness… true love… Those are things that don’t… ever find me. And if they do, well, they are taken away from me as fast as they appear. So maybe, if I ruined it, it wouldn’t hurt as bad.” He let out a humorless laugh through his nose. “Then I found out about your mark… about your destiny… I wanted you to hate me. In that I have succeeded, but… I don’t think I can live another day in a world where you despise me.” He took your hand and put the box in it.

You gasped when you opened it. Inside was a black gold ring. Twelve diamonds looked as if they were braided around it. In the center, a cushion cut ruby of heirloom quality that was almost the size of your pinky nail. You flicked your eyes between the ring and Terzo. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but the sound stayed trapped in your throat.

“I know how I hurt you. I see how wrong, how cruel, how… evil I was. I can change. I am changing. I can be a better man.” He took the ring box from your hand, placing it behind you. His hands held your gaze to his as he gently took your head between his hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks twice. You couldn’t even detect any lust in his eyes. All you found was love. And that terrified you more than anything. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. If you’d just… open your heart again to me, amore.”

You were too stunned, by him, by his confession, by his honesty, by everything. Like a deer in headlights, you stood still as he leaned in, his lips almost brushing yours when a hammering sound hit his office door. Quickly he turned his head away from you, hands sliding down to your arms. With a heavy sigh, his voice boomed in comparison to the moment before, “Who is it?”

“Eh, sono io, fratello (it’s me, brother).” Both pairs of eyes already in Terzo’s office widened at the sound of the familiar voice on the other side of the door. Your stomach dropped as panic swirled inside you.

Terzo started to fold you, urging you to hide under his desk, which luckily had a front that went all the way to the floor. As you curled up in the corner, Terzo pulled his chair in, sat down, and tossed the ring box in a drawer. “I can, uh, come back some other time…”

“No, no. Come in.”

Hesitantly, Copia stuck his head in, unsure of what he’d find. When he saw his disheveled brother sitting alone at his desk, he entered the room, closing the door behind him. Biting your finger to keep quiet, you braced yourself for the potential of everything you built to come crashing down around you.

“Can’t say I expected a visit from you. I think I would be the last person you’d want to see,” Terzo spoke first, breaking the awkward silence.

Copia cleared his throat. “Yes, well… Eh, even if you’re an absolute dickhead, you’re still my brother, eh? I just want to talk to you, as brothers. I think we both owe each other that.”

“And what is it that you think you owe me?”

“An explanation?” Copia made it sound like a question. He knew he didn’t have to explain himself, but he hated how strained his relationship had become with this brother and, if he was being completely honest, with his whole family. Between the duties they all dumped on him and his constant need for their approval, all he wanted was to try to break through to Terzo and stop him from destroying himself.

Terzo rolled his eyes as he scoffed. “An explanation for what? Sweeping the only person I ever truly loved off her feet?” You so wanted to kick Terzo in the shin for that sardonic comment. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I know I fucked up everything.”

“But why? If you love her like you say you do, why’d you even allow that to happen?”

Terzo tilted his head as he squinted at his brother, his expression nothing short of a warning. “What do you think I allowed to happen?”

“You allowed her heart to shatter into pieces.” You had to firmly shut your eyes at Copia’s comment. It never ceased to amaze you how observant he was. Then again, he was always the one you ran to when Terzo fucked up. A sharp pang hit your chest as you recalled your fight with him from the morning.

“Do you think I’m not painfully aware of that?” Terzo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You could have told her what you were up to. You didn’t. You left her broken and pushed her away. Why?”

A pained expression took over his features. “Because there wasn’t another way,” he practically whined. “I couldn’t tell her, because that’s not how the awakening happens. It just… does. From pain. From anger.”

“No, no, no,” the cardinal said as he crossed his arms and waved them away in front of him. “I refuse to believe that. You could have protected her, warned her without telling her… exactly or something. Anything! You could have done it without indulging–”

Terzo shot up and slammed his fists on the table. Both you and Copia jumped at the brusque movement and sound. “Do you really think I wanted to do that to her?!” he boomed. “Do you think I got enjoyment out of it? Why do you think I pushed her away?! Because I couldn’t stand to see the pain in her eyes knowing it was because of me. Knowing I had to be the one to cause it so she could awaken and be her true self. So, no, I couldn’t tell her. Because they didn’t want me to.” He clenched his fists and sat down again. He took a deep breath to steady himself. “Believe me, I’m paying for it now. I have nothing– I am nothing without her. So, enjoy your time with her while you can,” he spat.

Copia sat there, staring at Terzo in stunned silence. “Wh-what is that supposed to mean?”

Terzo’s eyes darkened mischievously as he got up and sauntered over to lean against the front of his desk. Nonchalantly he inspected his gloved hand, adjusting it as he said, “Don’t you know the very end of the prophecy? Didn’t anyone tell you?” Your eyes widened. You knew it. You knew he was still hiding something. He could play up the “boohoo poor me” act until he won an Oscar, but you knew. There was only one thing that he truly cared about and that was himself. Using all the restraint you could, you stayed as still and silent as possible. “‘And from the flames of wrath she is born. By her side remains only one of the halves from the sacred consanguineous line. Together, they bring forth a new age.’”

Baphomet’s words from your vision rang through your head: “To balance shadow with light, the halfling will be what reminds you of your humanity. While there is someone to bring out the beast, there is also someone to tame it. The halfling will be the sole survivor. Together, you will lead the next chapter. Together, you will continue to spread our message.” The Infernals made it sound like there was only one halfling. You had been certain they had been referring to Copia. He was the one who brought you back from the pits of your darkness; Terzo was the one to push you into it. Could it have been a mistranslation? Or did you always have a choice between them?

“How do you know this? The goddamn seers?” Copia interrogated, his jaw clenched as he understood the implications of the prophecy. The leather of his gloves crinkled as his hands balled into taut fists.

Terzo shrugged. “I’ve simply done my research.”

“Why are you telling me this now?!” demanded Copia.

Anger flamed in Terzo’s eyes at the disobedient tone from his brother. “Sei fortunato che ti sto dicendo adesso (You’re lucky that I am telling you now)!” he snarled. “You aren’t the only half brother. This involves me just as much as it does you.”

Copia bolted out of the chair, getting in Terzo’s face. “And it should be up to her who she chooses. Not you,” he growled.

Terzo turned his mouth upward into a half crooked smile. “Did I say I was going to make her choice for her?” Copia’s mouth twitched into a sneer. “But I don’t see how the odds look good for you… The Infernals have shown themselves to me.” He dropped his voice low, to just above a whisper, still loud enough for you to make out what he was saying. “And I do believe they are very pleased with my work so far. Besides, what use would someone like you even be to them? You’re nothing but a weak excuse, a mousey knock off of an Emeritus.”

Any restraint Copia had snapped like a string pulled too tight. You could hear the dull thump just before you felt the desk shake as Terzo fell back into it. His soft chuckle filled your ears. “Who knew il rattolino could throw a punch, eh? So much for our… brotherly talk.”

Copia grabbed him by his jacket, yanking him close to his face. “Non ti sceglierà mai (She will never choose you).”

“She might… when she realizes she needs a Papa by her side and not a pathetic cardinal.”

Your eyes shut for a moment. When you opened them again, you knew they had turned as dark as a forest on the night of a new moon.

“She has more power than you will ever know, bastardo patetico (you pathetic bastard).”

“Oh, how your words wound me,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

Copia gruffly tugged on Terzo’s jacket again, forcing his gaze back on him. “You really think you can stand to share the spotlight, hm? Is that really why you could never ask her to marry you?”

In a fury, Terzo broke away from Copia’s grip, while shoving him backwards. He stumbled into the chair, bracing himself on it to save his balance. He then grabbed Copia roughly by his cassock. “Do you know how quickly I could send you back to Italia? Hm? Do you?”

“She’d never forgive you.”

“I don’t need her forgiveness as long as I am the one by her side.”

“You’ll regret it when she makes your life a living hell.”

“And I’d expect nothing less from her.” Terzo pursed his lips together in a failed attempt to hide his spiteful smile. He knocked twice on his desk, right above you, with his knuckles before he let out a brief laugh through his nose. “Then again, I know her. I know what to do to… tame the beast inside her. I know exactly what buttons to push. And where,” he smirked, eyes flicking up devilishly at his brother who was almost as red as his cassock.

Copia was trembling in his rage. His mouth opened and closed like it was held together with loose thread. Words failed him now, there was nothing he could say. There was nothing he could do. He needed to find you. He needed answers. Between how out of character you had been acting, he knew there was a piece of this story he was missing and he was done with being kept in the dark. So, he swiftly turned to make a hasty exit.

“Leaving so soon, fratello?”

“I’m going to find her,” he growled without looking back.

“Ah, yes,” Terzo simply laughed as Copia stormed out. “Good luck with that.” He sauntered over to shut the door his brother had left wide open.

When he turned around, he was met with the glare of your deathly eyes. His blood ran cold.

part vi | part viii

#you're losing me #cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #papa emeritus iii #papa terzo #terzo #terzo emeritus #terzo x reader #terzo x female reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band #ghost band fanfic #copia x reader #copia x female reader #hope it was worth the wait!

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sentientgolfball · 10 months

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sooo @rainyhoursinhell got me on a Sir Rain fix but then I thought too long about genderfluid Rain and the lunar cycle so now I give you Ma'am Rain..also go read their stuff!! They are THE Raintom person

18+ MDNI

Word Count: 2570

Pairing: Rain/Phantom

Tags: she/her Rain used, collar and leash, Phantom tries very hard to be good, mean Rain, pet play/pup used as a nickname, slight mention of daddy kink

Summary: It was a super full moon tonight and Rain had to get rid of the pent-up energy somehow

It was a full moon.

A full super moon.

Rain had been feeling the pull of the celestial body for the past few days, which wasn’t anything unexpected for a water ghoul. She was used to the push and pull of the moon's power. She knew how to handle herself in the presence of its light.

Something Rain never could seem to get the handle on though was those few moments in the year where the cycle got interrupted. Eclipses, blue moons, super moons, those always caught her by surprise even if she had the date marked and highlighted in every calendar in the Ministry. She was still caught by surprise when she woke up dick painfully erect like she went into heat overnight. She could already feel that high that comes with the full moon and the sun literally just rose. She figured she needed to take care of herself before she got too high off the surge of magick and adrenaline. She ran straight to the shower and made quick work of herself, shooting onto the tile wall nearly piercing her hand with the effort of keeping quiet.

When she left the bathroom with a puff of steam and saw her half-opened closet a grin slowly spread on her face. She knew exactly what to wear for the occasion.

Short satin dress. Spaghetti strap. Black. Matching elbow-length gloves and choker. Opal stud earrings.

She figured the effort it would take to keep her fins glamoured all day would be worth the looks she knew she’d get. Maybe if she were lucky Cirrus or Mountain would throw her over their shoulder to go rip the dress right off. Or maybe Dew would tease her all day until she decided enough was enough and bent him over the nearest surface. Oh or what about Swiss falling to his knees begging for permission to touch and taste? Rain had to bite back a moan at the thought as she looked herself over in the mirror, making sure each part of the outfit was sitting correctly on her figure.

When she finally deemed herself the picture of perfection, she made her way to the kitchenette hoping to ruffle some feathers before slipping away to join the other water ghouls until she returned to the den when the moon was at its peak. She must have taken longer to get ready than she originally thought because the entire pack was out, spread between the common area and the kitchen. She tried her damnedest to keep a neutral expression when any conversation halted the moment she stepped into view. She could already smell the arousal on the whole damn pack.

It was a super moon after all. It was the one lunar event that didn’t affect just water ghouls. Sure it messed with them the most, but still every ghoul of every element would be feeling the pull tonight. She knew this and she used it to her advantage. Every single time.

She ran a hand over Mountain’s waist when she slipped past him at the stove. She made sure to reach for the glass on the highest shelf so Swiss could get a perfect view of her dress from where he was sitting at the table. She made sure to brush his arm and lean over Cumulus while she set the table. Her tail flicked when she heard a low growl from the common area.

“Isn’t it a little early to start this Rainy?”

Her eyes flick up to meet Dew’s glowing ones.

“What? Am I not allowed to look nice?”

He huffs “Not when the new kid is five seconds away from creaming his pants.”

Rain can hear a small squeak followed by Cirrus

“Sorry Ant but it’s kinda obvious, I can smell you from here.”

Rain raises an eyebrow at Dew who returns the gesture with the slightest flick of his head.

Looks like Rain found who she’d be celebrating the supermoon with.

Rain had to admit, she was a little nervous at the idea of taking Phantom since this was only his second moon experience, but fuck the sweet smell of his arousal wafting over the others made her head spin and it still wasn’t anywhere close to sunset.

She decided she’d play the long game with him when he couldn’t keep his eyes off her the entirety of breakfast. She’d glance at him and he’d look away with a deep blush and oh did she long to see how far she could push him. It got even worse when she realized his chores seemed to suspiciously line up with every spot the water ghouls decided to gather at to lazily make out or to expel the pent-up magick before the real show started.

Enough was enough, though when Phantom ran straight into Rain after slinking away when he saw Rain was nowhere to be seen with the other water ghouls.

“You’ve been watching me all day haven’t you sweet thing?”

His Lichtenberg figure scars glow slightly as a small wave of quintessence ripples through his body.

“I uh I don’t know what you’re talking about Rain. I was just you know…working.”

She tsks “Who taught you to lie? Good boys don’t lie Phantom. I thought you were good?”

His eyes go wide when Rain turns and begins walking away.

“Wait! Wait Rainy where are you—?”

“Back to the den. If you can’t be good I’ll just find someone who can.”

She turns and meets Phantom’s eyes with a bored look when she feels him grab her wrist.

“Come on Rain please let me be good for you. I promise I’ll be good. Gimme a chance, I’ll do whatever you say.”

She raised an eyebrow “Whatever I say? Really?”

He nods so fast it makes Rain’s neck hurt.

“Hm,” she hums “Guess we’ll find out if you’re still lying to me.”

The second they’re back in the ghoul den Rain quickly wraps a hand around his horns and pulls him down the hallway to her room.

“Good luck Bug you’re gonna need it!” Swiss calls from where he’s pinned between Cirrus and Aurora on the couch.

“Be nice.” Aurora hisses.

That’s the last thing Phantom hears before he’s shoved into Rain’s dark room. The lock clicks and he doesn’t even have time for his eyes to adjust before he feels Rain grab and shove him against the door. She pressed her whole body into him, stealing what little breath he had with a kiss. She teases his bottom lip with her tongue, huffing a laugh when he immediately opens for her.

Rain slips her tongue into his mouth, making an attempt to shove it down his throat before pulling back.

“Stoplight system, okay pup?”

He nods with a little squeak. Rain growls and places a little pressure at the base of his neck.

“What was that? You know how to speak don’t you or are you a dumb little puppy?”

Phantom whines and nods his head “Yes.”

“To which?”

“All of the above.”

Rain smiles, flashing her fangs before leaning in to suck a deep bruise onto his neck.

“Good boy. But I still think you need a little training since you decided to lie earlier.”

Rain pulls away for a moment. She fishes something out from her nightstand that Phantom can’t quite see. She throws open the blinds in her room to let the full moonlight fill the space. Phantom’s cock kicks in his pants at the sight. Rain’s skin practically glows when it hits her. The black satin is a gorgeous contrast to her pale skin and oh the darkness in her eyes was too much for Phantom. She crosses the space to stand in front of him, only this time she keeps a bit of distance.

“Eyes on me pet.”

Phantom's mismatched gaze immediately snaps to meet her. She smiles and takes the thing from the nightstand from behind her back, clipping it around his neck before he can even process it. He instinctively reaches up to feel the material. He’s a bit shocked when he feels the leather, whatever was against his neck felt soft and fuzzy.

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Good.”

Rain yanks on the leash he didn’t even realize was attached and he nearly falls on his ass. She pulls him over to the vanity letting him take a good long look at the two of them. Only Phantom isn’t looking at them. His eyes immediately fell to the collar. It was pink with a matching heart keychain on the leash clip. He squinted to read the words in the low light and nearly fainted when he realized what was written.

Daddy’s girl.

He felt another yank his leash.

“What did I say? Eyes on me.”

“I’m sorry!” His eyes immediately snap to look at Rain in the reflection.

“I’m sorry…?”

“I’m sorry ma’am” he whines.

Rain steps back to sit on the edge of the bed pulling Phantom with her. He immediately moves to straddle her but Rain hisses, looping the leash around her wrist and yanking.

“Nuh-uh, you haven’t earned that yet. You still need to be taught a lesson for lying. On your knees pup.”

Phantom drops without a second thought landing hard. He’s going to have bruises for days after this is over. He looks up at Rain with those big eyes making her cock twitch. She shifts her weight just enough to lift the hem of the dress to expose her lacy underwear.

“Sit on your hands pup. Since you wanted to use your mouth so badly that’s what you’re going to do.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good boy. Now get to work.”

Phantom leans forward till he’s slotted perfectly between Rain’s legs. He grabs the waistband of the panties between his teeth, careful not to nick her skin with his fangs. He slides them down just enough to free her cock. She’s already hard with a bead of pre pooling at the tip. He licks his lips and glances up at Rain, holding eye contact as he licks a long fat stripe from root to tip. Rain tightens his grip on the leash, letting his claws bite into his palm to keep still.

Phantom laps at the tip before parting his lips and swallowing her down. Rain laces her fingers through his hair, gasping when her cock hits the back of his throat. He slowly pulls off, letting the flat of his tongue drag along the underside. He keeps his lips around the tip and holds for just a moment letting the anticipation build. He breathes deep through his nose before sliding down in one quick motion, burying his nose in the hair at the base. He hollows his cheeks and bobs his head. Rain moans and throws his head back.

“Good boy. Good fucking boy pup. Do something good with that mouth.”

Phantom’s tail snakes around to stroke and play with her balls. Rain hisses a curse and rips Phantom off her dick by his leash. He stares at her with wide eyes trying to babble out an excuse.

“What part of mouth is so hard to understand stupid little puppy?”

“Rain I’m sorry—“

“What did you say?”

“Ma’am! I’m sorry ma’am please”

“Strip and get on the bed. Ass up.”

Phantom jumps up and rips his shirt off sending buttons flying across the room. He almost falls on his face trying to get his pants off and onto the bed at the same time. Rain slips his panties the rest of the way off. She fishes out a half-empty bottle of lube, settling behind Phantom on her knees. She pulls one of her gloves off to pour a generous amount onto her hand. She pulls her dress up to sit above his hips. She jacks herself a few times to spread the lube and spit around. She lines herself up with Phantom’s waiting hole and slaps his ass.

“Wait wait wait you’re not gonna prep first?” He yelps.

“Color?”

“Green.”

Rain sneers “Do you really think you deserve it pup?”

She pushes the head in.

“You spent all day stalking me.”

She pushes in a little more.

“You lie to my face.”

She pulls all the way out.

“And then you break two rules. So tell me pup do you really think you deserve it?”

Phantom whines and writhes under her “No ma’am. You’re right I don't, I'm sorry.”

Rain slams into him bottoming out in one thrust. Phantom howls at the stretch. Rain wasn’t big enough to really hurt him, but it still burned without any prep. He’d definitely feel her long after this was over.

She gives him no time to adjust, immediately setting a brutal pace, one hand gripping his hip and the other keeping a tight hold on the leash. She yanks on it in time with her thrusts pulling strangled little moans from Phantom.

“Ma’am please please. I’m good, I'm good, I promise.”

He tries to grind his hips back on Rain’s cock, trying to get her deeper.

“Are you?”

“Please I am I am I’m good.”

“Then fucking take it.”

She shifts her hips and the next thrust hits his prostate dead on. He keens and clenches hard around her. She groans and throws her head back.

“Come on pup be a good boy. Be a good fucking boy.” She punctuates each word with a thrust, grinding her hips against his ass.

She pulls hard on the leash until Phantom is pulled up and pressed tight against Rain’s chest. She licks and kisses over his shoulders before dragging her tongue up the column of his throat to his ear. She pants heavy and low in his ear and nips at the lobe.

“You take it so well, slutty little puppy.”

She pinches and twists his nipples. He whines high and feminine. Rain drags her hand down his body and grabs his dick. She jacks him as she grinds into him. It only takes a few more strokes and Phantom is spilling hot and heavy into her hand.

“Thank you ma’am thank you thank you thank you.” He pants and whines as Rain milks every drop out of him. She brings her hand to his face.

“Clean your mess puppy.”

Phantom drops his mouth and wraps his tongue around her fingers when she shoves them into his mouth. He sucks until he feels her bite into his shoulder shooting into him thrusting her spend as deep as she can manage into him.

She takes a moment to catch her breath before lapping at the wound to close it. She drops them onto the bed, kissing Phantom sweetly between the horns. She unclips the collar and kisses around the red marks left on his neck.

“You were such a good boy for me pup. Come on let’s get you cleaned up.”

Phantom whines and shakes his head burying his nose into her chest.

“Wanna stay here?”

He nods and tilts his head up to kiss the underside of her chin making her laugh.

“You know we have to clean you up love bug.”

“Aren’t you like a super water ghoul right now? Just” he gestures vaguely “magic it away.”

“No bug, I can't magic it away, it has to go somewhere.”

“Fiiiine” he groans.

Rain just laughs and hauls him up, pulling him to the shower. She holds him close, swaying slightly to a silent rhythm.

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #phantom ghoul #rain x phantom #rain ghoul #raintom #mdni #the band ghost fic #golfball writes

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a-casual-kpopfan · 2 years

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CCDI-0401 : Chuu

A/N: Consider this as a thank you because recently I just hit 1500+ followers! Please enjoy!

“Do I really need to join you for this episode Jiwoo?” You ask your girlfriend Kim Jiwoo as she’s dragging you inside a studio for a shooting of ChuuCanDoit. “Yes oppa! Trust me, you’ll like this episode!” You roll your eyes as it’s late in the afternoon, you were really hoping to get some barbecue tonight.

As you enter the studio, you did notice that Jiwoo is wearing quite a long trench coat. It’s not raining and it’s not cold enough for this kind of attire, what could she be up to?

“Jiwoo-ah, what’s with the get up? Are you going to interrogate someone?” You chuckle as Jiwoo just looks back at you with her usual big smile. “It’s a surprise!” You didn’t know what to feel, whether to be terrified what might come next or feel excited.

“And we’re here!” Jiwoo pushes open the door leading to an open dance studio, but something has caught your eye. You would never imagine in a million years that this is what Jiwoo would be doing.

Pole dancing.

“Jiwoo, I thought this season is about… Exercising?” Jiwoo walks to the wall with a coat hanger and looks over at you with a smirk. “It is! A lot of core exercises!” Jiwoo then pulls off her coat exposing her body, wearing only a bright blue yoga short and a tight white Adidas tank top. Her pale skin is at its maximum exposure, you don’t even think Jiwoo is wearing a bra under the tank top.

“J-J-Jiwoo?” You were flabbergasted, astonished, and, shocked. You lost all thoughts, your mind came to a blank, lost as ever when Jiwoo started walking towards you. You watched as each step she took, the more her white, thick and milky thighs would jiggle, ever since leaving BBC and working out more for CCDI, Jiwoo has been looking much healthier, much tastier.

The closer she got, the better look you get. You can confirm that Jiwoo is definitely not wearing… Breast support as her cute little titties are bouncing freely underneath her top. Now being so fixated on her chest, you notice her nipples are started to erect do to being exposed to colder air than being warm underneath her jacket.

“Hey! My eyes are up here!” Jiwoo points to her eyes with one hand, then taking the tripod bag off you with her other hand, with of course her large smile. “What are you up to?” Jiwoo opens the bag to stand a tripod up and attaching a single camera that Jiwoo carried with her. “I told you, it’s to record a special episode of ChuuCanDoIt!”

You shrug as you take your jacket off and hang it up next to hers, then finding somewhere to sit but only to find there’s a single seat in the room and that’s generally behind the camera, the best view to watch Jiwoo as she can make eye contact with you.

Jiwoo walks over to the windows and undo the blinds, covering the view outside and to keep the following event inside for you and your eyes only. The one smiling and happy peach, the Jiwoo that the world knows as Chuu, has completely changed. “Time for our lesson.” Jiwoo slowly walks towards the pole with a smirk, keeping eye contact with you.

You swallowed all the saliva that was pooled in your mouth, ever so often you see Jiwoo act like this, and it never fails to make you salivate. “Now let’s get started on some of the basics. I saw this online while researching.” Jiwoo then grabs the pole a feet inches taller than her height, then slight hopping up for her leg to wrap around it so she could hold herself up.

“Oppa! Look! I’m on a pole!” Jiwoo giggles as she starts spinning herself around the pole. You couldn’t help yourself but chuckle at her excitement, but that changed like a flip of a switch. Jiwoo’s giggles have disappeared and became a focused although seductive glare. The now to be pole dancer has brought her other hand to the pole so now she’s fully faced at the pole.

You watch Jiwoo bring her other leg forward resulting in her leaning back, leaning quite back. Jiwoo’s back was facing you which in turn, the more she leans back, the more cleavage gets more exposed towards you. Jiwoo releases the pole from her leg’s grasp, and gently letting herself slip in towards the pole, making contact with the lips in between her thighs.

“Ahhh…”

The coldness of the pole has made contact making Jiwoo a smidge sensitive, while you also start becoming “sensitive.” Jiwoo tightens her grip around the pole with her thighs, her squeals grow louder the more she rubs herself around the pole.

You feel your pants starting to tighten up, oh how you want to pin Jiwoo to the floor right now and ruin her tight pussy, but instead you sat there quietly trying to hold yourself. “Wooo, I’m getting dizzy.” You can see Jiwoo loosen her grip around the pole in between her thighs, she starts sliding down, slowly.

Very slowly.

“Mmmmmm… Ahh…” You can see the pole where Jiwoo was holding herself to is glistening a little more than before. “Oo… It seems I glazed the pole…” You watched her slowly land on the floor; she slowly pulls one of her hands away to see that she’s touched the sticky residue. “Oh, it’s become sticky.” She says while spreading her fingers slowly to watch the residue spread in between.

“I wonder…” To your surprise, Jiwoo slips in her index finger in her mouth, sucking on it and making a small popping noise once she pulls out of her mouth. “That was good, do you want to see me try more?” Jiwoo directs her eyes towards you with a little smirk, while her finger is being slightly bitten between her teeth.

You nod your head to let Jiwoo know that you want her to continue, and so, she does. “I need more flavour.” Jiwoo then brings her hand down to an emerging wet spot of her shorts, she moans at the slightest touch from herself, if it were you, she would be on the table already getting her ass blasted.

Jiwoo digs in a little, trying to scoop up more of the juices out of her now juicing pussy. “Ahhh... I hope I’m getting a lot…” Jiwoo then sucks on her middle and ring fingers, as those were the main fingers she used. You then started biting your bottom lip, getting quite anxious as you don’t know if you can pull your pants down and start stroking.

“Are you getting horny oppa?” Jiwoo then lays back on the floor, raising both her knees up, feet planted on the floor. “Take off your pants.” Jiwoo commands you before she started massaging her small breast through that thin tank top she decided to wear today, you guess that’s why Jiwoo isn’t wearing a bra.

Convenience.

With question or retorts, you pull your pants and underwear together in one go, flinging your manhood out in the brisk air of the room. “Aw, yeah… That’s right…” Jiwoo proceeds to lift her shirt up, exposing one of her boobs, all for the camera in front to record. “Start stroking.” Her wish is your command.

You started stroking for the amusement of Jiwoo. The once innocent peach has changed to one that’s beginning to ripen and squirt it’s juices out, all for you to watch. The now horned up peach laying on the floor, is pinching her bare nipple, slowly rubbing her clothed folds along the pole that she’s still very much attached to.

Jiwoo’s moans grow stronger as she continued watching you stroke yourself, every minute or see to tell you to do it either faster or slower. You can see from her strokes along the pole is getting stronger, deeper even.

“Fuck… Ah… Oppa, you look so- Ha- Hot…” Jiwoo adds her free hand, rubbing her clit still outside of her shorts, it has come to your attention she isn’t wearing underwear either. “Ah, yes! Yes! There!” Jiwoo stimulating herself from her clit and the pole at the same time, pinching her nipple harder than ever.

And in one loud scream, the small wet stain in between her thighs has now made her short in a giant piece of wet fabric. “Ah fuck… That was… Great…” Jiwoo’s body now rests on the floor with her lower half in a pool of her liquids. You were still hard as a rock, stroking yourself to the mess on the floor.

“I don’t think that was- Ha- Enough for an episode.” Jiwoo catches her breathe for a moment before sitting up, moving away from the pole for a second. “Let’s make this easier now.” She stands up, grabbing the hem of her shorts to only pull them down and get thrown to the side. “It’s laundry day anyways.”

You watched the shorts hit the floor; a loud wet slap was all that was heard from the drenched pair of shorts. You move your sights back to Jiwoo who’s now on all fours, moving back up into the pole. “Is she really going back to masturbating on the pole?” Is what you thought before her now expose pussy lips make contact with the assuming cold metal.

You watch Jiwoo bring her peach up in the air, the folds in between her legs, her thighs, envelop part of the pole. There were signs of hunger in her that you never seen before, a level of horniess that never had been reached before, a whole new version of Jiwoo that no one outside of you would never ever see.

Jiwoo’s face falls on the floor, pleasure can be seen from the expressions on her face, she’s enjoying this just as much as you are. Her face turns into a beet red, you can feel the room warming up with all the heat coming off of Jiwoo. You continue stroking for Jiwoo to watch as she started to stimulate her clit while feeling herself onto the pole and the other hand grabbing her left breast, massaging it and rubbing her nipples.

“Oh, fuck Wooming.”

You felt a sudden urge in yourself watching Jiwoo make herself in a hot fucking mess on the floor, but you felt like something was missing. “What’s wrong oppa?” Jiwoo stopped her actions, slowly moving away from the pole. You were confused why she’s stopped, but Jiwoo slowly approaches you on all fours with a smirk on her face.

“I bet you need help, you can’t do it by yourself.” Jiwoo’s voice was low, stimulating and in a sultry tone that you don’t hear so often. “Does baby need help?” She asks as she crawls in front of you, now her arms on top of your lap, resting her head on her arms as she stares and holds onto your cock.

“It looks so good… It feels so hard… I wonder how it’ll feel inside me.” Jiwoo’s expression changed from wondering to a large smile. “Tell me, does baby need help?” She begins to stroke your cock for you, waiting for your reply. “I need help Wooming.” But she doesn’t do anything, just continuing slowly, long strokes. “What was that?”

“Baby needs help.”

And with that, Jiwoo acts. She straightens herself up and places both hands on each of your thighs, leaning closer to your crotch, kissing your little head then spitting on it. “Let me take care of baby.” A smirk is seen on her face while she rubs her mouth made lubricant around your forever erected cock, but that smirk goes away in a snap of a finger due to Jiwoo swallowing up your piece in her mouth.

Your moan reaches an all time high, never had Jiwoo ever deep throated you before. It turns you on harder and harder hearing Jiwoo gagging due to you inside of her mouth, in a moment she pulls out to take a breath but goes immediately back in, sucking you off the best she can. Her tongue making laps around and around the tip of the head.

Her hand jerking you off while you’re still inside her mouth. You felt a sensation coming, a familiar feeling, you were going to bust.

“Jiwoo! I’m going to-”

Jiwoo stops and let’s go, stopping the process of the nut. “What the fuck!? Jiwoo, why?!” You were mad, confused, you felt like you got the biggest blue ball ever until…

Jiwoo is back on all fours, ass facing you and a pleading face looking back at you.

“Can baby fuck me?”

#loona #loona fic #chuu #kim jiwoo #loona smut

361 notes · View notes

prettymrswright · 1 year

Text

Harlem Nights

pairing: rosalie otterbourne x black!fem!reader

background: as a singer and musician growing up in the heart of New York, you constantly had people, places, and things to be inspired by. every chance you could, you were finding places inside those rooms you always desired to be in. there was nothing more you wanted to do but perform. most of your family wouldn’t be so ecstatic about your ‘unrealistic’ and ‘unstable’ ambitions. But you knew deep down that you had what it takes. You’d soon travel down to Harlem’s hottest club of the early 20th century, ‘The Cotton Club’, and an interaction with one of your inspirations would change the trajectory of your life, forever.

content: fluff, flirting, playful banter, intimacy. a lot of sweetness + sass. warmth. little explicit language.

word count: 6k

authors note: 2nd fic down. this one was very fun to create, making it fitting to the time. I have such a sweet spot for Rosalie, I had to dedicate this one to her and all her glory. as a singer and musician myself from NY, this was very special for me. I hope y’all smiling and blushing because I was smiling and blushing writing it! enjoy. p.s. chile i kinda wanna make a part two, this was teaaaa.

taglist: @inmyheadimobsessed @zayswriting @vixentheplanet @pinkwright @saintwrld @verachii @ventingfanfics @abenomeiiii @vampzxi @shuriszn @dejaonline @mysticalmarss @shurislover @msplayas @naomis-daydream @sweetalittleselfish-honey

pinned to my page is my new taglist form. if you wanna be tagged in specifics, go fill that joint out! thank you. (i also have an opt out option for those who no longer want to be tagged if they already are). <3

A warm, summer rain pitter-pattered across the glass of your bedroom window as you began cleaning up your space. It was a comfy afternoon, almost evening, the sun peaking through the clouds and beaming down on the town, preparing for its set. It was gorgeous outside. And despite it's rather saturating nature, many people were outside on their front porches. There were so many things to do in Harlem. So many places to see. And yet you felt you could die of boredom. If you weren't busy cleaning or babysitting the neighbors kids, you were receiving a 15-page verbal essay from your mother about how dangerous the city was and how 'there ain't nothing in Harlem but drugs, scams, and prostituting!'. I mean sure it could be dangerous at times. But where in the world isn't? You just knew that as much as there were frights, there were sights. Opportunity was left and right in this town. All your favorite artists and musicians grew up right here, and you wanted to join that list.

“Alright, Y/N/N,” your mom began, putting on her jacket, grabbing her things, and approaching your bedroom door. I’m off to work. Remember to drop the evening papers by Miss Jeanine after you finish cleaning. And no clubs!”

You sighed with immediate annoyance. “But Ma—“

“No butts!” She warned sternly. “Unless it’s yours in that bed there, immediately after. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You respectfully reply, feeling defeated.

You were 21, soon to be 22, but Mother didn’t believe in ‘legal adult decision making’. As long as you were her child and under her roof, you complied by her rules. You understood her always being protective over you; You even appreciated it. But at this moment and time of your life, it felt more like a hinderance than anything else.

“Alright now. I’ll see you later. I love you,” she says on her way out.

“Love you too Ma,” you reply faintly, and with that, the door shuts.

You fall back down on your bed behind you, with a big exhale, staring up at your popcorn ceiling. It was such a lovely day. You should be somewhere dancing, or hanging with your best friend Josephine. Even watching the neighbors kids wouldn’t be so bad right now. At least you’d be out in the backyard.

Tonight was also one of hottest summer nights to be at the Cotton. Billie Holiday, Ma Rainey, and Salome Otterbourne were all performing. It was certain to be a full house, for sure. The three black female jazz pioneers were on tour, and this would be the only time in a while that anybody would be able to see them all perform in one night. Dozens of people even travel from out of state on nights like these. That also meant that there’d be a bunch of travel scouts and agents, waiting on more talent to grab and take under their wing. You were nauseated at the thought of even missing it for a moment.

You got up to finish your cleaning, and halfway through, you heard the door open and shut, followed by a familiar voice that you knew and loved so much.

“Why the long face, sugar?” It asked, making sure you’d turn around to see their smile.

“Grandpa!” You ran to him with open arms, beaming with joy.

Your grandfather was your best friend. Since you were a little girl, he took you under his wing. Your dad left to pursue his music dreams when you were younger, so your grandfather was also the Dad you never had. He always spoke life into you, and made sure that no matter what, you knew that you were capable of any and everything. He also instilled you with the unwavering confidence to back that. Grandpa’s think-pieces were like gold. He was very wise, and had been through it all. He’d always say:

'Don’t let anybody take you for a fool! Not even me!' And laughed. But he was serious. "What's going on? Lorraine got you in this house cleaning all day again?" He says in your defense, as he often does. You let out an exhausting puff of a sigh before plopping back down on your bed. "Yea Pop. As usual." You shifted your body towards him and stared at the ground in deep thought, pausing before continuing. "I mean, life has got to be a little more exciting than this, don't it?" He laughed a low, hearty chuckle. "There's always more excitement, Y/N/N. You just gotta find it. Don't wait for opportunity, create it!" He says affirmably, allowing you to comfortably reveal what you've been thinking about all week. "I really wanna go to the Cotton tonight, Grandpa. Salome Otterbourne is performing tonight! And a bunch of other singers and talents and--well--I'm gonna be here, missing it." You look down and fidget your thumbs around each other. "Well why don't you go?" He asks. "You know Mama don't want me around no clubs, Pop. Besides, I told her I would take the evening papers down to Miss Jeanine." You reply in slight aggravation. "Ohhh," He scoffs and waves his hand down in dismissal. "Don't let that child stop you. I'll take the papers down to Jeanine." Your eyes lit up in pleasant surprise and excitement. "Oh you will?!" "Don't worry about it." He says, a confident smirk creeping onto his face. "Go on and enjoy yourself. I don't know where Lorraine gets all that strictness from anyway. Me and Betty ain't raise that child like that. Besides, she's seen and DONE worse." You both share a big laugh. "Thanks Grandpa. You're the best!" You jump up and wrap your arms around the big guy, holding the embrace for a while. "Anything for my favorite granddaughter." He says jokingly. "I'm your only granddaughter, Grandpa." You reply giggling. "I know. Now gone and figure out what you're going to wear. I hear that Mrs. Otterbourne is looking for another back up vocalist for her band." He tells you as if he just revealed the world's biggest secret. You, performing with Salome Otterbourne and her band. Your stomach turned and the mere thought of it. You kissed your Grandpa on the cheek before rushing to the bathroom to get ready for your highly anticipated night. Your mind rushed with all the possibilities of the night's events. You'd be in the same room with people and experiencing things you've once only dreamed of. Intimidating it was, but your desire to even just be in that energy was bigger. .. After lotioning up and powdering down, you slipped on a cool lavender silk midi dress, with spaghetti straps and a flowy, skirt-like bottom. You leaned into the mirror of your vanity, shaping up your thin brows, rolling on your winged liner, and coating your lips with a nude pink gloss, a shade brighter than your natural lip color. You used your same liner to add your infamous faux face moles; one above your lip, one at the tip of your nose, and one at the top corner of your cheek bone. You placed two diamond stud earrings into your ears, decorated your left wrist with a rose gold watch, and clamped your custom microphone necklace around your neck, gifted by your Grandfather. Lastly, pulling your look together, you peel off your bonnet and hair net, coat your fingers with oil, and take out each of your curls, wrapped around perm rods. You fluffed and shaped your hair into its short, curly and tapered state, much like Sheila Guyse. You stood and wrapped your mesh shawl around your shoulders. You walked over to your tall, door mirror and scanned your body, turning each angle, before spritzing your figure with Blue Grass, by Elizabeth Taylor. You always put effort into your look, but tonight was definitely a little extra. You needed to look and feel the part. Like you belonged there, just with everyone else. You grabbed your white clutch hand purse, matching your white pumps before walking out to the living room. "So," you say to your Grandfather, doing a quick and excited 360. "How do I look?"

"Oh, Y/N," Grandpa says swiping across and covering his mouth to conceal his emotional expression. "You look beautiful. Just like your grandmother." Grandma has passed when you were 7. You had faint memories of her. But one thing you did remember, was how madly in love your Grandfather was. You always said you'd want to be loved just like that when you were older. All the family would constantly remind you of how much you looked like her, and even carried a lot of her personality traits.

"Thanks, Pop." You reach down to hug him and wipe his tear before stepping back and giving him an 'It's okay' smile. "Alright, I'm heading out!" "Alright now, have fun and be safe! Be back by 11, and please, don't give your mother anymore reasons to kill me." He says, almost pleading. "You got it, Pop." You chuckled and walked out the door, closing it tightly behind you. You looked out at the busy block and took a deep sigh before walking down your porch steps and strutting down the street, on your way to the Cotton.

When you arrived, the scene was just like you imagined, only even bigger. Bright lights cascaded from all around the venue, and herds of people were beginning to gather. Cars were beeping and honking, forcing to navigate through traffic with all these people taking up the area, many cars stopping just to see what was going on. Above your head were the list of household names making an appearance tonight. Men and women all throughout the area were dressed up in their absolute best. Valet was working overtime & security was tight. It felt like something out of a movie.

You staggered in front the building, and before you knew it, it was your time to walk in. It was no turning back now.

There was a warm, dim but radiant tone to the room. You seen pimps, hustlers, singers, showgirls, every type of personality you could imagine.

Sounds of bass, saxophones, and pianos filled up the club with a soothing but strong undertone. You walked in, looking around in awe at the set up. The seats were almost filled. You were certain you had to sit in the back, but you didn’t mind. Being in the room was enough. Just as you turned to go back, you spotted your best friend Josephine, sitting in front with an older gentlemen.

“Y/N!,” She called out to you, waving you over and patting the seat next to her.

“Girl!” Overwhelm with excitement, you almost run to where she was and accepted her seat offer. “What are you doing here!”

“I didn’t tell you?” She questions. “My Uncle Johnny is playing bass for Mrs. Holiday. I tried calling to invite you, but your mom said you were busy.”

Typical mother. You really wish she’d stop answering for you. You rolled your eyes, but decided not to build on it.

“Oh, well good for him!” You say with sincerely, with a bright smile.

The two of you briefly caught up before the lights dimmed and the announcer came out to direct what would be one of the most riveting moments of your life.

A few acts had already performed, and you were completely enamored. Jazz and blues were your absolute favorite genre, but to hear it live and in person in all its emotion and vulnerability was euphoric. It was life changing. Entertained you were, but all in all, you felt a strong confirmation. You were certain that this was the path you wanted to take. Every strum of string, every note belted, sent chills down your spine. Singing and performing, especially with a live band felt so natural. It felt warm and welcoming— like a warm fudge brownie with cold ice cream on top. The contrast was clear, but together it went so well.

“And now ladies and gentlemen,” The announcer began. “I present to you, singer, musician, and hit phenomenon, Salome Otterbourne!”

He disappeared into the curtains, his presenting arm being the last thing to disappear as Salome approached the stage from the other end. The crowd erupted; cheers, claps, whistles. You turned to grab Josephine's wrists, that were wrested in her lap, the two of you looking at each other and exchanging an excited squeal. She was stunning. She stood tall above the silver microphone on its stand, wearing a powdered pink blouse and skirt set, with a hat and a flowered wrist garnish to match. She had on white silk gloves, covering the hands that held the stand, one up high and one down low, close to her lips and she began to sing her rendition of Bessie Smith's Tain't Nobody's Bizness If I Do. There ain't nothing I can do, or nothing I can say That folks don't criticize me But I'm goin' to do just as I want to anyway And don't care if they all despise me If i should take a notion To jump into the ocean 'Tain't nobody's business if I do, do, do, do If I go to church on Sunday Sing the shimmy down on Monday Ain't nobody's business if I do, if I do

She sang every word as if she wrote it herself. It was fitting, seeing that Salome was a confident, self-assured woman. You looked around to scan her band. There were two guys on strings. Another on the sax. One on trombone. And to the left of Salome, the pianist. A woman. She was the only other woman on stage besides the main singer, and she was playing for her. It was rare to see female musicians. And not only was she playing piano, but she was singing backup as well. She was gorgeous. She had pretty, cinnamon brown skin, narrow, sparkly eyes, and the prettiest smile you ever saw. She was on the taller side and had a slim but sturdy frame. Her hair was in a pin-curled bob, parted to the side, accentuating her sharp jaw structure. "Who is that?" You semi-whispered to your friend, intrigued. "That's Rosalie Otterbourne." She leaned in and whispered back, eyes still glued to the stage. "Salome's niece, if I'm not mistaken." "Oh." You reply back. The only thing you could say really. She was breath-taking, and seemingly just as talented as her aunt. As the song continues, she briefly averts her attention the crowd and her eyes are met with yours. Stopping and holding her gaze for a second, fingers still tap dancing with the instruments keys, she slightly tilts her head and flashes you a smile. You felt your heart begin to take on an unfamiliar arrangement of beats. Taken aback, you sheepishly smiled back, shakily lifting up your hand to give a small wave. She acknowledges it before returning her attention to her piano and back at Mrs Salome as they join in on the next verse. If my friend ain't got no money And I say, "Take all mine, honey" 'Tain't nobody's business if I do, do , do do If I give him my last nickel And it lives me in a pickle 'Tain't nobody's business if I do, If I do

“Holy shit, Y/N/N,” Josephine tugs at your side. “I think she just smiled at you.”

Okay so she saw that too. Surely it wasn’t for me directly. She was being courteous to her audience.

As the song came to an end, the crowd erupted once again.

“How y’all doing tonight New York? Y’all good?” She asks scanning out to the crowd. When answered by more cheers and whistles, she continued. “Alright, that’s what Salome Otterbourne like ta hear!”

“Tonight is a very special night for me. I’m back home and I have to say you all make me feel so welcomed.” She says with a sassy smile. She proceeds to introduces all the members of her band, leaving her for the end.

“And last but certainly not least, on the piano and back ground vocals, my lovely niece, manager, brain and backbone, Miss Rosalie Otterbourne!” She stands tall and blows a few two-handed kisses out across the room and seals her welcome acceptance with a big warm smile. For whatever reason, in the moment, it felt as if time stood still.

Time progressed as Salome and her band finished out their set. You were sad to see it end so soon. It was such a beautiful arrangement of music. People began to scatter; some leaving, some going to the bar, some going to dance. Some even went to ask for autographs and things of that nature. After awhile the chaos began to subside, and there Salome and her team was, alone, packing their things. You wondered if it was your time to approach. Even if she didn’t get to hear you sing, at least you could express to her how much her music quite literally saved you. As all these different thoughts browsed through your brain, your best friend, Josephine, took a page out of its catalog, as she often did, turning to say,

“Look there go Salome and them, finally by themselves. You should go say something!" She exclaimed, mid-chew of her olive that previously rested in the middle of her martini glass. You began to get sheepish. You had thought the same, but you now you were unsure. "Say what, Jose?" She turned to face you completely. "I don't know, but make your existence known. Tell her you sing or something!" "Yeah," you scoffed. "And embarrass myself?"

"Now, don't start that mess," She began, ready to get you together, as she often did. Not to mention she was the only one who could besides your grandpa. "You and I both know you're just as talented as anybody on that stage. And we always both know that you aren't shy." She was right. Being nervous about meeting an idol was regular, but you had prepared yourself for this moment over a million times. But you weren't sure why this specific time had you tucking your tail. "Besides," she continued. "Maybe you could introduce yourself to that pretty gal, Rosalie." She flashed you a smirk. Your eyes grew so wide they almost popped out of their sockets. Josephine could read you like a book. You never discussed or confessed aloud of your feelings toward other women. Not because you were ashamed, but you felt much like the song; ain't nobody business if I do. You choked out a breathy, nervous chuckle before you could began to speak. "Wha--" "Oh, save it. Now go!" She gave you a small but hefty push towards the direction of the stage. You stumbled forward, looking back to grill your best friend before straightening out your dress, dusting yourself off, and taking a deep breath. With that, you took all the confidence you did in that moment and used to it fuel your feet's motion toward the front of the stage. You'd been up there for all of maybe ten seconds before you were spotted. Her loud and heavy laugh drifting from off the end of her last sentence to her bandmate, she turned around from her kneeled position and gave you a small smile. "Hey Sugar. Can I help you?" "Oh n-no Miss Otterbourne I jus--" she shook her head and cut you off mid-sentence. "Please, child, Salome is just fine." You half-smiled at her correction. "Well, Salome. You were phenomenal tonight. Your voice and your arrangements are just what jazz has been missing." You say to her sincerely, hand in hand. "Aren't you sweet," She chuckles at your sincerity. "Well thank you, Sugar. I've worked hard for my sound. You know what they say, you want something done right --" "Do it yourself." You both say simultaneously and you laugh. "I'm with you on that one." You were pleasantly surprised how down to earth she was. "This is exactly why I'm in charge of keeping things together. Auntie where'd Ernie put that cas--" Rosalie came out from behind the stage, stopping mid-sentence once she'd seen you. "Who's this?" She points, asking what of your presence as if you weren't standing right there. You mentally laugh at her rudeness, knowing she didn't purposely mean to do it. "I'm Y/N." "She came to tell us how much she liked the show." Salome helped you finish your introduction. "Is that right," She asks rhetorically, raising her eyebrows, intrigued. "What part striked you the most?" You felt a wave of vibrations flow through your abdomen, immediately thinking of the glance the two of you shared in the midst of the performance. "W-well, I really enjoyed your rendition of T'aint nobody's business. I could relate on personal levels, but I felt that you could too. Especially that bridge. Salome, your vibrato is unreal. And with your tone, Rosalie, it blended perfectly." The singer and her accomplice looked at you with impressed eyes. "Well, well. That's some very specific terminology, Miss Y/N. Are we speaking to a fellow musician?" Rosalie asks, eager to hear your response. "Yes. A singer." You chose the confident route. You wanted to continue their interest. "Really?" Salome says matter-of-factly. "Well let us hear something, sugar!" You were having a hard time grasping that this was reality. You lived in the R.E.M part of your brain, playing out the different scenarios that would lead you to an interaction like this, but you never thought it'd be so soon. "You sure?" You ask honestly. "I know you're a busy woman." "Nonsense. Salome leave when Salome gets good and ready." She reassures you, speaking about herself in the third person once again.

"And if your voice is as pretty as you are, then we're in for a treat." Rosalie says, tossing a wink in your direction.

You felt a lump in your throat begin to form and hurriedly swallowed to force it to subside. You felt your cheeks began to heat up like a stove. Receiving a compliment was one thing, but receiving one from a woman of Rosalie's stature, successful, pretty, and poised, was another. You tried your hardest not to let it phase you, but you couldn't help but to let a flattered smile creep onto your face.

You briefly turned around to find your best friend across the room, smiling and giving you two thumbs up.

The band's bass player came over to take your hand and help you up the stage steps, directing you to where the mic was, still plugged in and hot.

Rosalie walked over to her piano and removed the cover she had just recently placed.

"Any preferences?" Rosalie asked.

"The Very Thought of You." You answered confidently, knowing how well the song complimented your voice. "Do you know it?"

"Billie Holiday." She says with a smile, proving her knowledge. "Like the back of my hand."

"Let's do it." You say, ready to take advantage of your moment.

Rosalie began fingering through the keys of her piano, playing up the intro of the song. As the melody began to fill up the venue, the people who remained in the building all focused their attention to the stage. You closed your eyes, let in a huge breath of air, and began to sing.

The very thought of you

And I forget to do

Those little ordinary things

That everyone ought to do

I'm living in a kind of daydream

I'm happy as a queen

And foolish though it may seem

To me that's everything

In this moment, it was you and the melodies that filled your ears alone. You sang just as you would if you were home in your room. Your voice was smooth and velvety. It could serenade you to sleep, or it could fill you with emotion. It was soft, two octaves away from breathy. It was easy to be attracted to your voice alone.

The mere idea of you

The longing here for you

You never know how slow the moments go

Till I'm near to you

I see your face in every flower

Your eyes in stars above

It's just the thought of you

The very thought of you, my love

You glanced in Rosalie's direction, secretly searching for a reaction, and was met by a dazed stare and watery eyes. Even outside of her usual, self-assured nature, she was so beautiful. You wondered what thoughts were flying through her pretty head.

You walked over to the piano and sat at the edge, close to Rosalie, and finished out the song beautifully, never breaking eye contact with her.

I see your face in every flower

Your eyes in stars above

It’s just the thought of you

The very thought of you, my love

Rosalie scanned your face with adored eyes as she played out the outro. You held your gaze, adlib-ing out the rest of the song and began to get lost in the pool of her pretty, chocolate brown eyes. The eruption of the crowd before you is the only thing that broke you from the hypnosis she placed you in.

You stood up again in front the crowd, placed your hands on your heart and gave a bow. You were so proud of yourself and simultaneously stunned. They loved you. The crowds reaction just confirmed all those nights you journaled about feeling called to be in the limelight. In the distance you could see Josephine, practically jumping up and down, mouthing “That’s my girl!”

It was a long, loud applause and standing ovation. At this point, people were beginning to get curious about who you were and where you even came from. With that, the cat-calling also began.

“Hold on, where you from, baby?!“ One man shouted.

“Can I take you home?” Another one followed.

You were too starstruck by your own self to be annoyed by men and their ignorance. In fact, it humored you in this moment. Once the crowd begin to subside, Salome ran up to you.

“Well I’ll be damned!” She says, clasping her hands together. “Sista you can blow!”

Nods and sounds of approval were given by the rest of the crew.

“Says you!” You say brightly. “Thank you, Salome. And thank you for allowing me to sing on your stage.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” She says, leaving you with slight confusion. “What does the rest of your weekend look like?”

Cleaning. Possibly babysitting. Absolutely nothing exciting.

“Nothing much, really.”

“Well, I have a couple more stops to make and perform at before we get back on the road. I want you to come perform with me.” She says sincerely.

You were there with a stunned look on your face. You were at a lost of words, and when you finally find them, they come out more blunt than you expected, “Quit playin’.”

The older woman laughed. “Serious as a heart attack, Sugar. Leave your home number with Rosalie, and stay by the phone. We have business to discuss.” She walked off to other side of the stage. You had to conceal your urge to scream your head off.

“Looks like you got yourself a job,” Rosalie began to walk up to you.

“Thanks to you. Where’d you learn to play like that?” you ask genuinely interested.

“Where’d you learn to sing like that? I thought you was just bull-jiving.” You both laugh.

“I’ve been singing since I was a little girl. My mother always put me in the church choir, and I enjoyed it, so I held onto it.”

“Well you definitely got soul.” She exclaimed.

“Thank you.” You say, blushing at her intense focus on you as she spoke.

“So tell me,” She moves closer to you. “Did you mean what you said?”

You tilted your head slightly at her comment. “What did I say?”

“I see your face in every flower, just the mere thought of you, my love” She speaks the lyrics of the song you just sang.

You weren’t expecting that at all, your body slightly trembling underneath the words her forwardness.

“It’s just a song, Miss Rosalie.” You professed, keeping as much ground as you could. “I am a performer, and I performed.”

“Ahh,” She says nodding sarcastically. “A performance, was it? A stunning one, might I add.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her sarcasm and her witt. The girl was indeed charming. And she wasn’t buying that you didn’t feel the tension that was brewing between the two of you.

“Rosie,” Salome called out. “We going on out to the car, when you ready, we can be on our way.”

“You got it,” Rosalie responded.

“Y/N!” Your best friend came running towards you, and you kneeled down towards the edge of the stage. “Girl you killed it! Brought tears to my eyes, I love seeing you in your element girl, you gone be rich!“ She rambles, saying the last part through clenched teeth. She stops and looks up.

“H-Hi Miss Otterbourne. Rosalie. I’m Y/N’s best friend Josephine.” She introduces herself.

“Hello darling,” Salome smiles. Rosalie waves.

“Well, girl,” she was now whispering. “I gotta go, my man is outside waiting for me, but call me when you get home and tell me EVERYTHING.”

You erupted in laughter. Josephine loved her some him.

“You so crazy. Enjoy yourself, and get home safe.” You say back, momentarily reaching for your best friends hand and squeezing it caringly.

“I will girl!” She runs off and out of the venue.

“Well, Miss Y/N,” Rosalie turns to you. “Where do you live? We could drop you off home.”

“Oh that won’t be necessary,” You assured her. “I live right up the street.”

Rosalie paused for a minute. “Come with me,” she grabbed your hand and the two of you scurried out through the exit backstage.

The warm outside breeze grazed your skin as the two of you began to walk semi-dark, summer streets. It wasn’t freezing, but it was a slight bitter chill that left you feeling more on the cold side.

“Here,” She took off her black, furry jacket and placed it around your arms. “It looks better on you anyway.” You gave a toothless smile at her comment.

“Did you actually enjoy my performance tonight?” You ask, somewhat serious.

“Did I?” She scoffs as if you said the most outrageous thing. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

You look down in nervousness. “You’re not so bad yourself. I mean I always knew she had other talented people in her circle but you,” You paused. “You have such a melodic voice. I enjoyed it very much.”

“Well thank you. Much like you, I keep my accolades undercover. It’s like a pleasant surprise. You think you know me and then— boom.” She illustrates her sentence, flicking her hands open, emulating fireworks.

“Well I don’t know how surprised I’d be considering how confident you are,” You say with an instance. “People like that always have something going on.”

“It takes one to know one, right?” She looks at you through low lids, her figure standing a few inches taller than you. For a while it’s silent. Suddenly, you blurt out something you’d only ever think of to yourself.

“Rosalie have you ever loved a woman?” You ask, almost regretting it, but still wanting to know her thoughts. She furrowed her eyebrows in interest, waiting for you to finish instead of answering right away.

“In the way.. you ain’t ‘supposed’ to love a woman?” you continued emphasizing the quotes, finishing your thought.

She sighed in relief. You sensed that you possibly could’ve opened a safe place for her to speak.

“I have loved women since I learned to walk and talk. My aunt and my band family are the only ones who know. They’d say, ‘Ole Rosalie couldn’t catch a man if she put a bra in a net!’ But they knew I didn’t want to. They ain’t give me no trouble. But everybody story ain’t like mine.” She opens up to you and you look at her with soft eyes.

“What about you?” She then turns to you, returning the question. “I’m guessing you have.”

“Nobody knows about me. Nobody but my bestfriend Josephine. I’ve never even been in love before. Not with a man either. But tonight, standing next to you I- I don’t know. I felt kinda like a school girl.”

Rosalie begins to laugh at your confession. She thought it was sweet. Secretly, she felt the same.

“Oh, stop it, It ain’t funny!” You say defensively, tapping her shoulder, but she continues to laugh. And you continue to fall. Before you could pull your hand back, she grabs it, and pulls you into her. The two of you stop walking momentarily, and it’s you, her, and this lonely street. She places a hand on your waist, the other still holding your hand, and comes close enough to your face to separate the two of you with a single piece of paper.

“Dance with me,” She breathes into you.

“But we ain’t got no music,” You say back, smiling foolishly at her impulses.

“Yes we do.” She begins to hum The Very Thought of You, and the two of you sway side to side, your feet moving in a circle around each other. You begin to him with her, the two of you harmonizing on every chorus. In this moment time stood still. An overwhelming feeling of adoration and excitement washed over you. You felt like the only girl in the world. She had a way of building on your romantic tension, all while making you feel like you gained another best friend. It was the perfect night, and you never wanted it to end.

The two of you stop your tango, and she pulls you in, kissing you ever so slowly and passionately. You felt yourself melt into her, the heat of your bodies keeping each other warm. You finally pull back and share a long gaze, her arms still holding you. Your moment was interrupting by a loud honk from a car coming around the corner.

BEEP BEEP.

“You two ready?” Salome smiled, hanging out the passenger window. “Get in!”

Rosalie led you to the back seat, her getting in first and you following, closing the door behind you.

“What’s your address, sugar?” Salome asked. You gave it to her, and off you all were.

“Oh,” Rosalie began, “Before I forget,” She grabs a pad and a pen from underneath the seat to give you. “Can’t leave without your number.”

You smile and take the materials from her hand.

555-8269 Y/N. You wrote in its red ink, drawing a small heart next to it, and kissing the paper, leaving the mark of your now halfway glossed lips. You folded it up and handed to her, and she delicately placed it in her purse. She slid her hand over top of yours, which now rested on your knee, and interlocked your fingers.

“I’ll be expecting you,” You say softly.

“First thing tomorrow morning.” She affirms to you, holding her intense gaze. She lifts up your hand and places a soft, gentle kiss on the back of it.

Before you knew it, you were pulling up in front of your house.

“Thank you again, Salome. I had a wonderful time.” You express, full of gratitude.

“Don’t mention it, doll. I’ve had a great night myself. Now make sure you stay by the phone, hear? You gone be a star. And I’m gone make sure of it.” She says, turning around to face you from her passenger.

“And I think my Rosalie is very fond of you.” She looks at her niece with a proud and accepting smile. Rosalie gives one back.

“Yes ma’am.” You say, blushing of slight embarrassment but also appreciation. You step out the car and walk up your concrete steps.

“Y/N,” Rosalie says out the window. You turn around.

“Yes?”

“Goodnight.” She says, holding onto every moment she has left of this night with you.

“Goodnight, Rosalie,” You say sweetly, but teasingly.

You walked into your home and crept up to your room, careful not to wake anyone up. You run up to look outside your window and watched as the car drove off. You couldn’t believe this was your life. But you were glad that it was.

All night your head spinned, accompanied by thoughts of you and Rosalie. The instant chemistry between the two of you left you in such a fuzzy state. It was the beginning of something new. It felt warm and welcoming— like a warm fudge brownie with cold ice cream on top. The contrast was clear.. but together, you went so well.

#mrsprettywright #rosalie otterbourne #rosalie x black reader #black sapphic #lesbian #harlem nights

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hazel-of-sodor · 11 months

Text

Day 16-Too Late

Traintober 2023

Other Stories

Day 16-Purpose

Too Late

James was the one to find him. Thomas was hidden among the disused wagons behind Tidmouth. It didn't surprise James that none of the others had found him. Most tended to forget this part of the yard existed. James only knew because this was one of the spots he went to when everything became too much. As it had become for Caomhnóir.

The tank engine's fire had long gone out, his soot covering slowly washing away under the rain. Tear tracks covered his cheeks, but he was utterly unmoving. He had never looked so small to James as he did right then. Thomas had an energy that swelled past his frames, always moving, never still for longer than a second at a time. When he was upset it was easy to forget he wasn't as big as the main line engines. As Caomhnóir...there was a reason the likes of Flying Scotsman listened when he spoke. But right now? James just saw a little engine, bending under the weight placed on his frames.

James silently rolled to a stop in front of the tank engine, his crew walking away, leaving the two engines alone. For a long time, they remained in silence, James just letting him cry.

"I was too late." Caomhnóir finally whispered, his voice rough from crying. "She was already gone when we arrived."

James had no idea who he was talking about, but he could certainly guess at their fate.

"You can't save everyone." He reminded gently.

Caomhnóir's laugh was bitter and broken, "Everyone? Right now I'm failing to save anyone."

Well, that was enough of that.

"So you did dump that goods train on me last week for no reason."

Thomas looked up, confused, "No, I was..."

"And you had Henry sabotage the kipper the week before that for nothing."

"Of course not! I..."

"And Gordon derailed at Barrow completely by accident last month."

Thomas fell silent.

James raised an eyebrow, "Well? Did you or did you not need cover for engines sneaking in three times in a month?"

Thomas sighed, "I did...but it was not enough."

"No its not..and it never will be." James sighed, allowing his own grief to slip through. "But we can either accept that and help you save who we can, or let them take our kin unopposed."

"There's just so many." Caomhnóir sounded lost. "When I realized she was gone I grabbed who I could but..."

He was quiet for a long moment, " I moved as fast as I could but...." He looked helplessly up at James, "How do I tell Gordon Pretty Polly''s gone."

Oh. Well, that explained it.

"You don't," James said. "I will."

Thomas looked up to protest but James pressed their buffers together. "You have enough on your frames without this."

Thomas shook, "she wasn't supposed to be withdrawn yet. We had a plan, but suddenly they withdrew her, and by the time I got there..."

James took a deep breathe to steady himself, "it's still not your fault." He pushed on before the little engine could protest. "By all accounts, you made a sudden mad dash across the entire country undetected to try to save her. If you failed, then it was because there was no way to succeed, not because you failed in any way."

"I ran out of coal on the way back." Thomas admitted, "The midnight goods had to sneak me in."

Well, that explained why his fire was out.

"That only proves you did everything you could."

***

11 years later.

Thomas was resting at Tidmouth when he heard Gordon's whistle, joined by his siblings. He opened his eyes, expecting to see Gordon, Northern, and Scotsman.

Instead, a fourth engine was in front of him, the three expected Gresley's smirking on either side of her.

She, somehow was an A3 Pacific in BR Express Passenger Blue with the number 60061 on her buffer beam.

"I never got to thank you for trying to save me."

"POLLY?!?!?"

#Traintober #Traintober23 #Traintober 2023 #ttte fanfic #rws fanfic #fanfic #Prompt-Purpose #ttte thomas #ttte james #TTTE Gordon #TTTE Pretty Polly

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vladr2566 · 6 months

Text

It's finally here well part one of the fic!! This is my first fiction so please go easy on me lol and ik this first part is short pleas bare with me my computer had bugged out and I lost all the parts so I'm starting back at square one

⚠️⚠️⚠️CW WARNING: SMUT GORE STRONG LANGUAGE AGE GAP Mention OF ABUSE AND ASSULT DEATH MENTION OF SA AND CANNIBALISM CULTS AND HEAVY TOPICS OF RELIGIOUS ABUSE! AND UNPROTECTED SEX (mostly in later parts) YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED Reader is 23 and slayer is at least 500 years old(basied on what i googled and the events of eternal)⚠️⚠️⚠️

Fem!reader x doom slayer

Hell's little rabbit part 1

Hell's little Rabbit

Part 1

You don't know how or when it happened but the cult of God had gotten their hands on you, they found you interesting, your rabbit ears, your rabbit tail, your rabbit feet. They never saw a human rabbit hybrid, well a hybrid in general. They kept you locked up in a dark damp cell in the abandoned jail they called home on this demon infested earth. They worshiped God who had abandoned them long ago, before the demons attacked.

Their leader, Peter, would take care of you. He would visit daily and give you food and water and in return you had to give yourself to him or he would beat you till you complied. He would preach on how yiu were special and was ment to dave them. You hated him, wanted him dead even but last time you tried to kill Peter he had broken your arm. His wives didn't like you because you were his favorite, they called you freak and whore, other times they would sneak in and beat you.

Today was a special day, the day of sacrifice, and you were the chosen one. You were kept alive for 13 years just for this, to be sacrifice to the demons so the cult could be blessed by the God they believed in. It was rainy today the first rain in years. Peter ties your arms on a cross and kissed you on last time, you grimace and spat in his face which earned yiu a harsh slap across the face.

He turns to his people and spoke, "Childern of God! Today we gather here today to feed the beast that plague us, and our way of living! Let us bow our heads in prayer and let us pray to our lord and savor Jesus Christian , and the one almighty God!"

They lowered their head as Peter leads them in prayer, "OH heavenly father who art tho in heaven! Please let this sacrifice keep the demon at bay for another 13 years, thank you for letting us find this girl when we did! She was 10 years old and lost, she was just a child when we took her in and now she is a woman! Still pure because she served me, her husband, very well! May her sacrifice keep us safe and my her soul join you in heaven! I know she is different from the others but may her rabbit genetics satisfy the demons! Amen!"

"Amen!" The others said in unison. The days passed as Peter and the other higher ups for the cult watch and waited for the demons. You were weak and exhausted, barely hanging on. The heat and the weather doing its toll on your body.

It's now been a week and nothing, it was scary quite. Then there was screams, you couldn't care you was ready to die. After an hour or so the screaming stops, you heard heavy footsteps approach but was too weak to lift your head. You felt a strong hand lift your head and you see a man or thing in green armor. He cut your hands free and you fell into his arms, that's all you remembered before passing out.

You woke up in a bed, how long has it been? Hours? Days? Weeks? You weren't sure but you sure knew you were hungry, you looked around the room you were now in. It confused and scared you, you had no clue where you was but something caught your eye. You get up and hobbled over to the small table in the corner and grabbed the sandwich that was left, your hunger overpowered your thoughts and you scarfed down the small meal.

You then looked at yourself in the mirror and saw you were bandaged up and somewhat clean. Your ears perked up as you heard footsteps and walked in a robot? You grabbed the plate from the table and get ready to throw it.

"Who are you and where am i?!" You demanded

"Hello, I am Vega the on board AI. The slayer brought you in after he had found you on earth. How are you feeling miss, need anything?" He asked

You shake your head no and slightly relaxed.

"No thank you..."

"If you need anything let me know miss, this room has a bathroom so if you want you can shower." And with that Vega left. You made your way to the bathroom and saw some clean clothes, fresh bandages, and some soaps as well as shampoo and conditioner.

You smiled and took the first shower you had in years, you washed off the dirt and old blood and then spent a lot of time on washing your matted hair. One your done you get out and then cut your hair short so it's easier to manage.

You could hear the same heavy footsteps out In the hall so you got dressed and left the room. You peaked out and saw the large man in green armor your savoir. You quietly followed him but he disappeared into his room. You wanted to thank him but how?

#doom 2016 #doom eternal #doom slayer #doom slayer x reader #doom #doom guy #faniction #flynn taggart

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phanfictioncatalogue · 12 days

Text

Cis Swap (5) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four

“Are you seriously trying to make me jealous?” (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: Speaking for the first time in a while, Phoebe says, “I think I will take some air.” She hears the clack of heels behind her and turns around. Dani has joined her outside.

A ficlet about regency and remembering.

chaos in bloom (ao3) - vvelna

Summary: The adventures of Dan and Phyl, ghost removal experts.

Contraband (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: Dani is ridiculously pale, and Phoebe knows that’s the pot calling the kettle pale. But she’s too worried to laugh about her own dumb joke, because Dani is also shivering and has been feeling poorly almost as long as she’s been in Manchester. She’s wrapped up in a burrito of Phoebe’s brightly coloured duvet and her face frowns out at Phoebe.

A fic about sickness and hand holding.

festive (ao3) - irrationalqueer

Summary: “You’re like...sexy Mrs. Claus,” she says, reaching out to touch, mouth hanging open.

i see you (ao3) - irrationalqueer

Summary: Fiona sees more than Dani thinks she does.

ivy (covered in you) (ao3) - irrationalqueer

Summary: Dani’s job now is to be guided - she is used to living in the darkness with Fiona, but for once they are headed toward the light

in the woods somewhere (ao3) - antiadvil

Summary: After Dani bit Fi, Fi started to change too.

Is it serious? (ao3) - antiadvil

Summary: In which Fi doesn’t have a ride home, Dani gives her one, they make out in her car, and there is just a little bit of discussion of feelings. Can be read on its own or as a sequel to my Curious songfic.

Laundry & Taxes (ao3) - serendipnpipity

Summary: In the world of yazisnotonfire and AmazingFiona, Yazi Howell still doesn't know how to do her laundry.

leaned a bit too hard (ao3) - jailedmoonshine

Summary: Growing up, Phil resented her name. She already didn't care for dresses and heels, so it was even harder convincing people she was actually a girl. As the years pass and her styles change, she decides to stop for a pint at a pub along her drive, giving her body a chance to breathe from the chill that was coming in.

Hang on... is that a nun?

no grave can hold my body down (i'll crawl home to her) (ao3) - antiadvil

Summary: Dani is missing. She comes back, but something is different.

AKA lesbian vampire hozier songfic

our secret moments (ao3) - irrationalqueer

Summary: It’s a little bit exhilarating, the way they’d run, actually run down the hallway and crammed their tall bodies into this tiny alcove. Fiona hadn’t even given either of them a chance to calm down or catch their breath; she had just pushed Dani against the wall with her own body and started kissing her.

pizza, fluffy towels, blankets and horror movies (ao3) - watergator (orphan_account)

Summary: phoebe likes coming home to someone warm

rain is always gonna come (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: "I don't deserve you." She doesn't mean for it to slip out, at least not in that tone of voice. It feels too raw, too real, too close to what she's been lying awake with every night for months now. (Dani and Fi and depression, early years edition.)

Red wine supernova (ao3) - Cecil_Is_Drowning

Summary: Sister Daniel met the most awesome girl she'd ever met at a concert, but small issue, she forgot to tell her Roommate before bringing this (amazing) girl home.

run away with me (ao3) - dizzy, waveydnp

Summary: Dee and Fi break the rules just a little bit.

sex on the beach (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: The bartender is hot, and she definitely knows it. Phoebe feels herself getting more and more resentful the farther into her second drink she gets.

Sunkissed (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: Phoebe isn’t a swimmer. But that somehow makes her love this all the more— the holiday quiet, the lull between legs of their world tour, the sound of the Australian jungle around them but other than that only the sound of Phoebe kicking and splashing.

A fic about playing and rationales.

taking the veil (ao3) - buskingalbatross

Summary: Twenty-two year old YouTuber Phillippa Lester accompanies her Dad on his trip to fulfill a commission to create a piece of art for a family friend who is living a monastic life in an abbey in the south of England. Angry at her parents and lacking other plans, eighteen-year old Dan Howell tags along with her grandma on an annual, summertime trip of her own: a two week secluded religious retreat at the same abbey.

the ladyknight dan fic (ao3) - baroquens

Summary: It's 1138, and Civil War is stirring in England. In the North, rumors of a Scottish invasion have begun to spread. Dan is a knight whose disguise as a man has recently fallen to pieces. Phil is the odd daughter of a country lord. They fall in love. This is a story about some of those things.

would you tell me if you want me (ao3) - rainbowroshenpower

Summary: AOL messenger

- D: baii ttyl <3 :) Thurs 9:08 PM

Fri 11:01 AM

- P: Why don't you come visit Manchester sometime ;) |

2009 wlw phan meeting for the first time but w lesbian tension. Phil is Pippa and Dan is Lara for the twin peaks truthers.

#phanfictioncatalogue #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #masterlists #cisswap #cisswap masterlist #genderbend

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whositmcwhatsit · 1 year

Text

An Enjoyable Slide to Oblivion

Chapter One Chapter Two

Summary: Like a lot of girls, Chancy Crawford had once been able to call herself one of Elvis's girlfriends, but that was long time ago. Now, she called herself his friend, or his 'cousin' if any of his girlfriends asked. It was just easier that way. And their relationship was all about being comfortable and easy. Until she gets asked to come and join a tour that seems endless and cursed. Warnings: swearing, drug use, smut, angst, violence, temper tantrums, all the usual.

Chapter Three: Good Little Girl The tour continues and Chancy continues to enjoy, fret and marvel at the ride. Surprisingly fluffy (for me) with a bit of smut. I have been so overwhelmed by the response to my little comfort blanket of a story. Thank you to everyone who has liked, messaged, reblogged, or even just read it! You make my day brighter! ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Yet another airport, and Chancy had already forgotten the name of the city when she entwined her fingers with Elvis’ and gave them a squeeze as the plane taxied up the runway ready for take-off. She marvelled at how he and the rest of the band and crew coped with touring, particularly the one-nighters where they landed, slept, performed and left before their bodies could even register that they had stopped.

The world outside the windows of planes, cars and hotels could get very blurry, distorted and unreal. The only thing that seemed to be in focus was what was right in front of you. For Chancy, that was Elvis. She wondered what it was for him.

It was a short flight that they spent making out in the bedroom suite at the back of the plane. Chancy had no doubt that some of the guys were already muttering about how much of Elvis’s time she was monopolising, as if anyone but Elvis could be blamed for what he did.

As the plane began its descent, they returned to the Star Trek seats and Chancy held out her hand before Elvis had to reach for it. He met her eyes and looked so grateful that she had to swallow a lump from her throat.

“I should’ve gone to the bathroom before,” she said to make conversation and keep him distracted. “Put myself back to rights. I must look just like I’ve been rolling around on a bed for a couple of hours.”

“A little,” he admitted with a crooked, boyish smile. “You’re getting those curls back. Boy, I missed ‘em.” He reached across with his free hand and tugged at a ringlet by her ear.

“Well, I don’t miss being called Slinky Head and Shirley Temple,” she returned, poking the curl behind her ear. He pressed his lips together, clearly trying not to laugh as his eyes twinkled.

“Yeah, you can laugh because that was mainly you,” she snapped with no real fire. “And you know that once you call someone a name it just sticks like glue.”

“Sweet darlin’ Slinky Head,” he cooed, his voice quivering before he burst into loud laughter. She shook her head, but she couldn’t stop herself from beaming. It’s all her face wanted to do.

When they emerged from the plane, it was dark and raining and the pressure on Chancy’s brow told her that there was a thunderstorm on the way, but there were still a couple of dozen people standing at the fence. Elvis gave them a wave before he climbed into the waiting limo.

At the hotel, Chancy followed them all into Elvis’s suite, which was prepared and set up the way he liked it: dark, cold and cave-like.

Red was explaining where the venue was, how big it was, what the stage looked like, all things that held importance to people who weren’t Chancy. She thought she would take the opportunity to slip out and find Jerry to get her room key and her things. The little fresh air she had got stepping into and out of cars had reminded her that she had barely any sleep the night before and she was beginning to feel heavy and slow.

Jerry was in his usual place in the hallway, admonishing Ricky that mini bars were for people who paid for their own goddamn hotel rooms and were over twenty-one.

“This isn’t a damn frat house!” he called as Ricky rushed past with luggage.

“You might want to get that made up as a pamphlet,” Chancy remarked. “Especially for the older guys.”

“Oh hey, Chancy,” he said, turning. “What can I do for you?”

“Just getting my key,” she sighed. Jerry blinked the longest blink a person had ever taken.

“Uh, I- I don’t have a key for you. I was told you’re staying with- you’re with the Boss.”

Chancy blinked too, because all the thoughts and emotions rushed her at once and she couldn’t quite cope with them and less important functions like opening her eyes at the same time.

“No, there’s been some kind of mistake,” she said with a smile, the panic hiding behind her teeth. “I need a room, Jerry.”

“Uh…” He smiled too automatically and handed off a key to one of the guys walking past with a shoulder full of suits in drycleaning bags. “I can look into it for you.”

His words were a promise, but his tone was a refusal. She was about to fight the futility and press harder when Sonny appeared at her shoulder.

“Hey, why’d you leave? Boss wants you.”

Chancy looked between the two men and heaved a sigh, before biting her lip and following Sonny back to Elvis’s room.

The rest of the guys had cleared out and Elvis was kneeling by the television, flicking through the channels. She couldn’t even see what the picture was before he flicked to the next one.

“Where’d you go, lil’ Slinky head?” he asked over his shoulder. Despite the words, his tone was not playful.

“I went to turn back time to before I reminded you about that stupid nickname,” she replied, stopping at the end of the sofa.

“I’m only fooling around,” he replied. “You gotta stop this sneaking off though, baby. Every time I turn around you’re gone. Like a damn ghost.”

“Sorry, I thought you were busy, so I-”

“I was busy, but busy don’t mean I don’t want you here with me. C’mon and sit down next to me.” He held out a hand to her and she took it, perching beside him as they both sat on the sofa.

“Elvis, I was just speaking to Jerry and he said I don’t have a room.”

“Sure you have a room.” He lifted his arm to encompass everything around them.

“I meant a room of my own.”

“Well, it’s just that it’s kind of silly, ain’t it, having two rooms? We gonna keep going back and forth all the time? Might as well just have the one.” His eyes were fixed on the television and his voice was a little too casual.

“That seems like a decision that I should’ve had some say in,” she murmured, torn between wanting to keep him happy and not wanting to lay down and be steamrollered. She had seen that happen to too many too many times before.

“You know how that would’ve gone, Cha-Cha. You’d have thought about it and thought about it and gone round in little circles, trying to be a good girl, and we both know how it would’ve ended up. We’re supposed to be together, honey.” He sighed and stood up.

“I’m going to the bathroom, you gonna be here when I get back or do I have to make you come with me?” She glared up at him. “I’m only kidding, relax.” He bopped her on the nose with his finger as he passed by and she seethed.

The childish part of her wanted to skip out, go find Sandi and Charlie and let him come out to an empty room to show him what she thought about his controlling ways. It would be satisfying for a sweet minute until she had to face the consequences of the stunt. And, as always, she had to consider the show that would be happening in a few hours. She wasn’t going to be the reason thousands of people came to see a show where Elvis was off his game.

Before he could return, the door to the room opened at the same time as someone tapped on it, which seemed to be the wrong order of events to Chancy. She hadn’t even considered how everyone and their neighbour had access to Elvis’s room and this sudden realisation heated up her thoughts until they were broiling.

“E ordered dinner,” said Lamar, glancing round the room as he wheeled in the trolley. She nodded towards the bathroom, which satisfied him.

Well-trained, she addressed the trolley, setting out the condiments and glasses and cutlery on the coffee table. There were several different covered plates, she lifted the covers to find the usual bacon, fried potatoes, sweet rolls, black-eyes peas, and so on. She wondered how they managed to rustle up these kinds of meals in the middle of the Midwest.

“Finally!” said Elvis behind her. “I’m starving.” She didn’t respond.

When he came round the sofa, he was wearing pyjamas and a robe. He dropped down next to her on the sofa, close enough that his arm brushed hers as they both reached for the plates. She noted with a humourless smile that she had the exact same meal as his, just a quarter of the size.

Elvis was trying to be sweet, pouring her a drink and getting her a blanket from the bed because he knew that his preferred room temperature was another person’s idea of a trip to the Arctic Circle.

Chancy was less sweet, but still trying, thanking him for his thoughtfulness. It was like a new play where the cast hadn’t memorised the lines yet and the director was wondering whether it would ever make it to opening night.

It also didn’t help that one of the main leads had no idea he was supposed to be performing altogether. Elvis always ate like his house was on fire and he needed to finish his meal before he called for help, but he was usually neat and well-mannered about it. Chancy shifted slightly in her seat as his elbow collided with hers for the third or fourth time.

“Sorry, baby,” he mumbled, going to put his hand on her knee, but missing the first time around.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm, yeah, just a little tired.” He shook his head slightly as if to clear his thoughts, but this didn’t seem to help as he reached out for his drink and knocked it over.

“Shit, motherfucking glass got a mind of its own.”

Chancy jumped up and grabbed a handful of paper napkins, dabbing up the puddle before it dripped onto the carpet.

“Leave it, baby, leave it. Someone… I’ll get someone to…” He tried to rise, but only managed to lurch back onto the sofa.

“It’s fine. Orange juice stains if you don’t get to it quick,” she said, wondering even as she spoke why she was bothering. Even clear-headed, Elvis Presley did not have to worry about stains.

With a grim sinking sensation in her gut, she finished mopping up the mess and started collecting the plates and other items, putting them back on the trolley. Behind her, Elvis was still and quiet and, though she didn’t have the courage to check, she thought he might have fallen asleep.

The coffee table cleared, she dared a look over her shoulder to find him watching her, his head resting tilted against the back of the sofa, and a sweet, loving smile on his face.

“You about done there, Mommy?” he remarked with a hiccupping laugh. She wanted to be mad at him, to convey how much he was scaring at her with his pill-taking and unpredictability, but how could she do that when he was looking at her like that? “You wanna help put your baby to bed?”

With a groan, Elvis heaved himself up and Chancy provided the counterbalance to keep him on his feet. He didn’t let go of her hand when he threw his arm around her shoulders, almost throttling her with the crook of her own elbow. Somehow, they made it across to the bed, no thanks to Elvis, who was nuzzling her face and hair. She could feel sweat trickling down her spine as they collapsed together onto the mattress.

“Whoa, you’re strong, Cha-Cha! I didn’t know you were so strong,” Elvis mumbled in a small, breathless voice.

“I’m a farm girl, remember,” she replied, rolling free and taking in a deep breath.

Elvis reached across and dragged her back towards him, saying something she couldn’t make out. Within seconds, he was asleep, snoring quietly into her ear, smothering her like a blanket.

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

The next thing she knew, she was being jarred from perfect, black silence by someone gripping her hip and rocking her roughly.

“C’mon, baby, time to get up!”

Chancy inhaled sharply, disorientated, and not entirely convinced that she wasn’t falling from something. Her squinting, gritty eyes took in Elvis as he moved around the room, humming to himself.

“What time is it?” she croaked, clearing her throat. The ache in her limbs led her to believe that she hadn’t slept very long, but seeing him so energetic and alert didn’t make sense.

“Nearly five, I think,” he replied. He climbed up onto the bed behind her, sliding in to spoon her as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and licked her dry lips.

“Still tired, baby?” His voice in her ear sent tingles down to her core, but they were muted by her exhaustion. If she had been asked to choose between him and sleep right then, she wasn’t sure what her answer would be.

“Hmm, a little,” she murmured, reaching up to stroke his arm.

“You want me to give you something to help?” It took her a moment to realise what he was asking, and as she did she also understood how he had regained his energy.

“I’ll be fine,” she said quickly, dragging herself up and out of his arms. His voice was studiedly casual as he replied:

“Okay, well, you let me know if you change your mind.”

Chancy surveyed the room, noting that the food trolley from earlier was gone, which suggested that other people had been in the room while she was out. She really didn’t feel comfortable about that, but it was a fact of life for Elvis and she had never had cause to really think about it before. She started as he came to her side, eyes fixed on her in a way that most women would have found overwhelming.

“After the show tonight,” he said gently, “we’re gonna have a proper talk, you and me.” She was nodding along with him, her arms wrapped around herself. “But, until then, honey, I need you to go get ready. This place is going to be full of guys in a matter of minutes and I ain’t having any of them catching sight of anything that’s meant only for me.” He slid his finger under her chin and tilted her face up so that he could plant a sweet, chaste kiss on her lips.

Before he had even stepped back, she surged forward, burying her face in his neck. He was so warm and all-encompassing; heart enough for both of them indeed.

“C’mon now,” he murmured, his voice lighter, she could hear his smile. “You’re fixing to get me all revved up before I gotta work.”

Chancy took the world’s fastest shower, which was so out of character she half-expected some sort of award ceremony when she emerged from the bathroom.

Elvis hadn’t been exaggerating, the room was a swarm of activity with guys bringing in plastic covered suits for him to choose from, his hairdresser setting up in one corner, and Charlie running over the set list in case Elvis wanted to add in something new that they needed to prepare.

“Hey CC,” Jerry said. “I got the room next door, and it’s all ready for you to… do whatever.” Which was at least a friendly way to be told to get out, she reflected. She nodded and grabbed her make-up and hairdryer, walking to the door.

At the last minute, she glanced over her shoulder at Elvis. His back to her, he was studying two of his suits as Ricky held them up helpfully. She thought back to his words earlier about her disappearing and wondered whether he would consider this one of those times. Better safe than sorry.

“You always look so amazing in dark blue,” she murmured into the back of his shoulder. He half-turned, his face lit up by a boyish little smile and his eyebrow raised. “I’m going next door while the magic happens.” She tugged a little on his arm until he leant down enough for her to kiss his cheek, simultaneously giving his ass a little pinch.

As she returned to collect her things from Jerry, who was tempering his grin, she heard Elvis say:

“Well, c’mon then, you heard the lady!”

In Jerry’s sparse bathroom, Chancy smiled at her reflection, but did not really see it. Instead, she was seeing Elvis’s face as she left and the pleasure she knew that she had put there. It was an empowering feeling. Then, sighing, she focussed on the person standing in front of her. She looked pale and drawn, the brown of her eyes blending into the dark shadows underneath. Sighing, she opened her make-up bag and began to apply the layers.

At the first sight of Elvis clad in his midnight blue stage suit, Chancy’s stomach did a little flip. It was tight around the middle like most of his clothes at the moment, but the colour complemented his dark hair and pale skin beautifully, and made his eyes glow blue.

“I’m a genius,” she reflected, walking over to where he was shuffling his feet nervously. “You look so good, honey.”

“Hmm, thank you, darlin’, so do you.” He grabbed her chin and pulled her in for a kiss, but his eyes were everywhere except on her. She could feel the tension thrumming inside him. His hair was already damp with sweat and it was glistening on his chest. She watched him gulp down the water that Jerry handed him and realised that she had not had anything to drink since she had woken. It occurred to her that she was desperately thirsty, but when she went to walk across to the dining table where there was a case of bottled water, Elvis grabbed her wrist so fast she thought she was being mugged.

“Where you goin’?”

“To get some water. I’m thirsty.” She winced at her tone, hearing the irritation clearly, and several of the guys had too from the suddenly blank expressions on their faces. Luckily, Elvis was far too distracted to hear tone and he just offered her his bottle.

In the car, Chancy made the most of the dark to close her aching eyes. She was careful to not actually drift off, even though Elvis and the rest of the guys decided to launch into some sweet gospel to warm up on the way over. At one point, Elvis reached over to take the new bottle of water she had swiped off the hotel room table before leaving and she started, caught out.

“Think we bored Cha-Cha to sleep, fellas,” he observed, drinking her water.

“I was listening!” she protested.

“Just resting your eyes, right?” Joe teased. She made a very loud snoring noise in response.

“Sorry, Joe, what was that?” They snickered and Chancy felt Elvis slide his hand between her thighs. She immediately clamped them together, gritting her teeth as his oversized rings jabbed into the soft skin.

“Ow, goddamn bear trap!” he hissed in her ear playfully. “I was just trying to keep you awake.”

“Oh, I’m very much awake, sweetheart,” she replied. She squeezed harder.

“Shit, Cha-Cha! I gotta play the guitar in a minute!” he yelped. In a panic, she relaxed her legs, only for him to immediately slip his hand higher, his fingertips brushing the front of her underwear as he cackled. The bottle of water disappeared as she grabbed at his arm, elbowing Joe in the ribs on the other side of her in the process.

“What in the hell is going on back there?!” Lamar queried as Joe groaned, Chancy shrieked and Elvis just laughed harder.

“Big surprise, Crazy is acting crazy,” Chancy grumbled, tugging down her skirt.

“Right, that’s it!” Elvis bellowed, turning and grabbing her from so many different angles in so many places she was convinced he had grown extra arms.

“Damn it, let me out! I’ll just walk!” Joe cried.

“We’re coming up on the entrance,” Lamar called as a warning.

Chancy tried to hold in her sigh of relief. She knew that when Elvis was hyped up like this, there was no telling what he could do, or what crazy idea might cross his over-stimulated mind. It didn’t pay to be the focus of his attention at times like that.

“This ain’t over,” he mumbled in her ear, settling himself back into the seat and spreading his hand over her knee. She tried to keep her face pleasant as the flashbulbs started to go off, besieging the interior of the car with light. Elvis lifted up a hand to wave that also somewhat shaded his eyes, ever the well-experienced professional.

At the stage door, there were about a hundred fans, along with a local news crew to capture the moment of Elvis stepping out of the car. Red, Joe, Dick, and Sonny crowded in to make sure no one got too close or too handsy, their ever-vigilant eyes sweeping the huddle of mainly women from early teens to late thirties, looking for dark assailants.

Chancy climbed out after the main attraction, smiling at no one in particular. Lamar had his hand underneath her elbow, trying to guide her without really putting hands on her. It was such a pantomime that she wanted to roll her eyes, but her role required her to be happy yet unseen.

“You look beautiful!” Chancy turned in the direction of the voice just behind her shoulder. A lady with large green eyes and cropped red hair was smiling right at her. “I love your hair.”

“Thank you,” she replied bashfully, “but you’re the one who’s beautiful, your eyes are stunning!”

“Are you Elvis’ girlfriend?” another woman called out.

“Uh.” Chancy glanced at Lamar, who had his face turned away like a damned coward and then towards Elvis himself, who was signing a record sleeve further up the line.

“Don’t we all wish we were?” she replied to the crowd, who seemed to collectively groan and sigh in agreement. She couldn’t help laughing to herself as Lamar got her into the building without further incident.

“Good answer,” he remarked with a look that almost seemed impressed.

“I didn’t realise there would be a pop quiz!” she replied, following him into the dressing room.

“You gotta be prepared for anything.” Like he was telling her something she didn’t know.

“It’s different now,” she reflected. “Back when… When he was first starting out the fans could be kind of mean. They’d say some really hateful things to any girls that were around. They could be vicious.”

“Oh believe me, they can still be vicious,” Lamar intoned, rolling his eyes. “We’ve all got the scars to prove it.”

“Hmm,” Chancy answered, still marvelling on it.

Elvis and the rest of the guys burst into the room in a bubble of noise and activity. He made a beeline for the bottles of soda on the table and downed one in one go, letting out a huge burp afterwards.

“Greatest sex symbol of the twentieth century right there,” Lamar quipped.

“Like you can talk!” Sonny sneered, giving Lamar a warning look of caution behind Elvis’s back.

“Hey, it’s gotta come out, man!” Elvis shot back. “Better here than out there on stage in some little girl’s face. Although, I wonder how loud I could get it with a microphone with these kind of acoustics…” Chancy shook her head, marvelling at how little men actually grew up.

“Still wish you were his girlfriend?” Lamar joked to her, clearly missing Sonny’s warning.

Elvis’s eyes sharpened and his smirk dissolved as he looked at the two of them. Lamar, trying to repair the damage, explained what had happened outside with the fans and how Elvis would have been proud of her answer.

“How’s your junk, Lamar?” he said softly, stalking slowly towards the two of them. Chancy felt like an antelope that had wandered too far from the herd and had now spotted a lion moving through the tall grass. At least she wasn’t the one that seemed to be the prey; if she had been Lamar, she would have been thinking about how to run without being caught. “Notice you ain’t limping no more. Wanna keep it that way?”

“Run, boy,” one of the guys murmured in the background. Lamar heeded their words, stammering something about heading out to check everything was okay with the lights, side stepping Elvis in a wide arc. This left Chancy in his sights and she shuffled backwards as he advanced, finding herself with her back to the literal wall.

“Nowhere to run, baby,” he observed quietly. He rushed forward and grabbed her in a bear hug, spinning at the last minute so that he crashed back against the wall with her squashed to his chest. “Got you. You’re mine now.”

“Looks like,” she agreed nonchalantly, nodding even as her heart was ramming itself against her ribs.

“That make you happy?” he asked. The change in his voice from playful to serious had her glancing behind them, but none of the guys were looking their way and they were very good at seeming as though they were deep in conversation about something important. So very well trained.

“Does it make you happy?” she countered, with a playful quirk of her eyebrow.

“Nuh uh, I asked first.”

The way his voice turned whiney and babyish in her ear had her giggling like a child herself, the sound stuttering into a gasp as he released his arms only to encircle the front of her ribs with his hands, sliding his grip down over her stomach and onto her hips.

Inhaling deeply, she let her eyes flick upwards to stare into his and lifted herself onto her toes, almost on the points, so that she could touch the tip of her nose to his. Of course, this indirectly led to her sliding upwards in his hands, leaving them clutching the widest part of her hips and her ass.

“You always make me happy,” she murmured, their lips brushing as he smiled. She was touched to see his cheeks go pink too. He kissed her, she couldn’t get enough of his kisses, his hands openly cupping her ass and holding her against him.

“That’s good,” he whispered into her lips. “That’s real good.”

“Your turn now,” she reminded him.

At which point, the stage call came and Joe cleared his throat and passed on the message. Elvis let Chancy sink slowly back down from the tips of her toes and released her, giving her a helpless shrug.

“I gotta go,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. She played at being outraged, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes. “Baby, I can’t help it!” He backed out of the room, the guys seemingly dragging him away, and she kept up the façade until he was gone.

It felt as though the minute she could no longer see him, the oxygen swept back into the room. She inhaled desperately and her thoughts cleared, the questions and worries multiplying by the second.

“You okay?”

Chancy started, having missed the fact that Jerry had stayed behind.

“Sure.” She winced at how utterly unconvincing she was at lying even using just one word.

“We should probably head out. He’ll want you out there when the show starts.”

“Mmm hmm.” She followed him out of the dressing room and along the impersonal corridor towards the door to the auditorium.

“You distracted him,” he said over his shoulder. Chancy, who always anticipated criticism but especially now, looked up warily. “From his nerves, stage fright. It’s the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him leave to go onstage.”

“That a good thing?” she volleyed quietly.

She wasn’t quite sure about Jerry. Truth be told, at the moment she wasn’t quite sure about much. She was looking at everything through funhouse mirrors, distorted and disconcerting. Looking at him, she could see her own doubts reflected, the same mistrust.

“I guess we’ll find out,” he shrugged.

The opening theme had already started when they pushed through the doors into the main hall. For a moment, Chancy reeled, blind and deaf in the booming darkness and besieged by the flashing halos from the flashbulbs burnt into her retinas. This is what Elvis experienced every time he stepped out on the stage, she realised. Love and adulation as an violent attack.

At that moment, the spotlight on the stage found its focus and an inhuman roar rose up. Chancy was almost at the soundboard, Jerry’s hand steering her shoulder like she was a skittish horse, when she felt compelled to glance up and found Elvis was striding towards her at the front of the stage on his way to acknowledge his screaming admirers in that part of the auditorium.

Cradled in that light, cocooned in the velvety blackness that was crying his name, he had never looked more right, more at home, more perfect. In just a few seconds measured in the strobing lights of camera flashes, her thoughts finally slid together like a puzzle piece had been rotated to fit.

He needed someone to be at his side to finish the tour, to warm his bed and scratch their nails through his hair to help him sleep in the fuzzy, grey dawn. She could do that; who better than her? Hadn’t everyone been saying that she knew him well, knew his moods and his preferences, knew how sensitive and how fickle he was. Who better than her to play the part for now and step aside when he found Gail’s replacement, the next girl that he had been looking for all his life? No one else could endure that intensity and then step back and away from it unscathed. She already had once before.

Back at the microphone, Elvis’s voice blasted out over the screams, the devotion and the wordless need that besieged him. The band could barely keep up. Chancy saw a couple of the female backing singers flash each other a look of appreciation, acknowledging that they were going to have fun tonight. They weren’t wrong.

It was an hour and fifteen minutes of non-stop stimulation. At one point, Elvis decided he wanted to play the piano and Chancy could see the musicians all scrambling to figure out how they were going to accompany him on a song they had never even rehearsed before.

Then he was sliding onto his knees in front of a trio of hysterical girls who had evaded security, and their ecstatic cries flooded the microphone as he kissed them, smushing all three of their faces together between his hands like they were at some sort of bacchanalian orgy.

“We’ll finish this later,” he murmured to them in the microphone, prompting one of the girls to almost leapfrog over the shoulder of the security guard who was gripping onto her for dear life, and the auditorium to erupt into laughter.

How he moved straight from this risqué comment into a gospel number with a straight face, Chancy had no idea. She watched the man, who ten minutes earlier had worn a bra thrown onto the stage as a pair of sunglasses, squeeze his eyes closed and propel his rich baritone towards heaven, beseeching it for answers. Chancy knew that both actions were true, both reflected who he was as a person, and one made the other that much more endearing.

Later, he collapsed onto the stage in an uncontrollable fit of laughter after he snatched up a pair of lurid pink panties (Honestly, half of the women in the first few rows must have been experiencing an uncomfortable draught by the end of the show.) and pinged them like a catapult in the direction of the backing singers where they caught JD the bass-singer in his perfectly coiffed grey hair.

It took Elvis a few minutes to calm down enough to continue, and then he just announced to the band that he was going to do the next song laying on the floor.

Yet, as the song started to build to the chorus, he somehow leapt up in a way that shouldn’t have been physically possible, still holding the notes. The audience started applauding and cheering before he finished the chorus, making him order the band to repeat it because he didn’t want anyone to miss anything. He seemed more than human and so exciting that no one could take their eyes off him, even the other people on stage.

Chancy didn’t want to leave when Lamar reappeared and tapped her on the shoulder. It was unfair that she had to lose out on any part of it and she envied the audience that last few minutes as she traversed the cold, dark hallway that would take them to the limo at the stage door.

“That was one damn good show,” she said as they reached the car, listening to the bass of the song reverberating in the distance. There was a group of people clutching placards being corralled by a couple of police officers a few feet away.

“Yeah, it was,” Lamar nodded. “Make sure you let him know.”

“Please, Lamar, like I need advice from you on that front.” He tilted his head, giving her that one.

“It feel weird?” he asked suddenly, glancing back up towards the door as if Elvis would burst through at any moment. “I mean, after all this time, to just pick up where you left off?”

“That’s not-“ She wanted to laugh at the idea of them picking up their tragic teen romance unchanged after so many years, but she knew that when you spoke with his friends/employees, you had to imagine that Elvis was always there, watching and listening.

For all the insanity they had witnessed and experienced in their time with Elvis, loaded up with the money and means to indulge every impulse and fantasy, all of the men, Elvis included (and probably the most of all) had some weird notions about love and relationships that remained unsullied and revered. There was a strange contrast of romanticism and pragmatism surrounding them all. Sure, there were girls on the road that you screwed, but there were also wives or girlfriends- at the same time- that you loved, and that love was utterly unaffected by the other.

Chancy felt a kind of condescending affection for Lamar that she was obviously firmly ensconced in his head as the second kind of girl. It was pointless and self-defeating to try and convince him otherwise.

“It doesn’t feel weird,” she said instead. He mused over this, his brows knotted in thought.

“I guess,” he reflected, “it’s not like it ever really ended. Not really.”

Chancy gathered up the oxygen to address this, because it infuriated her the longer that she heard it echo in her head. The hardest decision that she ever had to make in her life hadn’t actually really happened? His marriage to a beautiful woman and their child hadn’t really happened? Chancy’s relationships, her achievements, her independence, again, hadn’t really happened? How dare he?!

The stage door flew open and a blur of people crashed through it. They had missed the end of the song as well as the ungodly bellowing that followed and were caught completely unaware. Chancy felt hands grab and bundle her into the car after Elvis and she barely had time to right herself before Joe was shoving in behind her and the doors were all banging shut one after the other.

Ricky, who was sitting in the bucket seat in front of them, handed Elvis a towel as soon as he had waved and smiled at his cadre of well-wishers out the window and he awkwardly wrapped it around his neck, struggling to catch his breath as the car shot out of the narrow alley and into the vast parking lot.

There were police officers on motorcyles ahead of them with their lights and sirens going to ensure that they got out of the parking lot before the gridlock of concertgoers started.

“Great show, man,” Sonny was saying gently, repeating it until Elvis finally tuned into the present and nodded wearily in acknowledgement. Chancy looked at Ricky desperately trying to balance a cup of water until Elvis was ready for it and took pity on him. She leant forward and took it; from the consternation on his face at this change to routine, she wondered for a moment if he would fight her for it.

“Here, drink this, baby,” she murmured, holding it in front of Elvis until he finally lifted his head from where he had let it drop back against the back of the seat.

“Thank you, M- darlin’,” he murmured, catching himself, but his lips tilted into a faint, embarrassed smile anyway. He twisted in the seat, she caught the small, exhausted groan he made as he moved, and then he was leaning against her, his head resting on top of hers.

“What did you think of the show?” he asked quietly. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t even turn her face with the end of the towel that was around his neck tucked between her shoulder and jaw. So, she had to make do with staring at the taillights flashing in the distance through the windscreen.

“You were utterly spellbinding,” she said in the same soft, intimate tone. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“I know, I could feel ‘em,” he replied, sliding his fingers between hers and clasping her hand.

Chancy’s back began to ache from the strain of holding them both up, but she bit her tongue. She could feel Elvis’s pulse beginning to slow towards something more normal, more human, and his breathing was finally evening out. His suit was completely soaked, they would both need to change when they got back to the hotel.

“The sound was better,” Elvis remarked suddenly in his normal voice, breaking the unnatural silence of the car. Immediately, the guys leapt upon it, agreeing emphatically.

“It sounded good, sounded really good. I guess Bruce figured it out,” Joe replied. “I’ll let him know to keep it that way.”

“The sound was fantastic. When those three little girls started squealing I think they heard it all the way in the parking lot,” Sonny said. “They should think about a career in the opera.”

“Forget the damn opera,” Red cut in. “The way they dodged and leapt over the cops, they should try out for wide receiver!”

Elvis didn’t respond, at least not verbally so that Chancy was aware, but he gave her hand a little squeeze and continued to sip at his water as they drew closer to the hotel.

It was relief to get out of the limo back at the hotel. There were only a few diehard fans still lingering around the service entrance and they got through the kitchens and into the elevator without incident.

On their floor, the crew began to peel away. Joe went to call the Colonel and check on arrangements for the show the following night. Red said that he wanted to call home and catch his kids before they went to bed. When they got to the door of the hotel room, Chancy wondered whether she was supposed to go back to Jerry’s room, but Elvis’s grip on her hand was unquestionable.

The room was still lit up the way they had left it earlier in the evening. Chancy went to get a drink from the mini bar fridge, but Ricky was already there, obviously harbouring resentment about the water in the car. He opened the water bottle and put it on the nightstand as Elvis wearily sank down on the side of the bed with a sigh.

There was a routine, as there was for everything, and Chancy didn’t know her role within it, if there even was one. As she was considering this, Jerry walked into the room without announcing himself and asked what Elvis would like for dinner.

“Honey, why don’t you get comfortable on the couch,” Elvis said wearily, catching sight of her standing awkwardly by the door. “I’ll be with you as soon as we wrestle this damn suit off.”

Glad to be given an instruction, something- anything- to do, she stepped hastily across to the living area and perched on the couch. This felt just as uncomfortable as standing to attention by the door, so she went over and started to flick through the channels.

Behind her, she could hear Ricky and Elvis talking in low voices. Her chest clenched when she heard Elvis grunt as if pained and she had to hold herself steady to stop herself from turning to check on him, to help. He was trusting her enough to be there, to witness his vulnerability, she didn’t want to betray that.

Searching the channels, her eyes lit up at a familiar face. It was one of Elvis’s movies from the mid sixties, all Technicolor and gorgeous locations. The sound was down low enough that she couldn’t hear what anyone was saying, but it still amused her that there were people all over the state watching this and she had the real article right in the same room.

Chancy glanced up as Ricky walked past her on the left, heading for the door with the suit hanging over his arm. She flashed him her brightest smile, trying to make up for upsetting him earlier in the evening. She found it quite adorable that he obviously took his job and his duties so seriously. She must have been forgiven because he beamed back and promptly walked into the closed door.

“Oh my goodness, Ricky, are you okay?” She jumped up from the sofa, but he scrambled at the handle and was gone before she could reach him.

“Leave the poor kid alone!” Elvis ordered, his voice full of sympathy for Ricky. Chancy looked over to where he was standing by the doorway to the bathroom, wrapped up in a dark blue silk robe. “Man, he ain’t gonna hear the end of that for weeks!”

“But how will anyone else know-” Her frown cleared as Elvis grinned mischievously. “Oh, poor Ricky. You shouldn’t tease him, he really looks up to you.”

“It’s the way of the world, honey, gotta make a man of him. Besides, don’t want him getting too comfortable mooning over my woman.”

Before her revelation at the concert, being called his woman would have undone her and got her bones rattling and her brain whirring. Now she understood her role, she could accept that a lot of women were Elvis’s ‘woman’, it was a section of society rather than an obligation.

“I’m gonna take a shower, honey. Why don’t you get ready for bed before Jerry shows up with dinner?”

Again, she nodded and took on the task. She wasn’t being ordered around, she wasn’t ignoring her own agency to please someone else, she was performing a responsibility, a duty. It was a little like being an actress with a role. This wasn’t her.

Chancy had changed into her nightgown and robe and was smiling as she listened to Elvis singing in the shower- some goofy jingle from a tv ad- when there was a knock on the door. She waited for the person to enter, but the door stayed closed for once. Unsure of what she was supposed to do in this situation, but figuring that Elvis’s world couldn’t be that far removed from reality, she went to answer it.

“Oh, Jerry!” He was standing in the corridor with the food trolley like he worked for the hotel. “I thought you guys just came straight on in?”

“I didn’t want to intrude. I figured you might want a little more privacy.”

“Well, thank you, that’s really thoughtful.”

“Turns out it was a good thing,” he said. She frowned, not following. “The distraction. That was the best show I’ve seen in a couple of years.”

Chancy glanced towards the bathroom and then pulled the door into her hip.

“Wasn’t he amazing? I swear that every time I think I understand how talented that man is, he goes and blows my expectations out of the water.”

“I think that was kind of the point,” Jerry remarked wryly. “You are not going to be impressed just seeing him on stage, are you.”

“No, I still pretty much am,” she admitted, ignoring the implication that she had anything to do with the night’s performance.

“Well, maybe don’t tell him that.” They laughed conspiratorially.

“What are y’all whispering about?”

Chancy lurched as the door was pulled out of her hand and away from where her hip was resting on it. Elvis gave Jerry a cool stare as he rubbed his hair with a towel.

“Uh, dinner, Boss,” Jerry stammered, moving the trolley in front of himself like a barricade.

“That need a whole conversation?” Elvis snapped.

Chastened, Jerry wheeled the trolley into the room and murmured a hurried good night before closing the door behind him.

“We were talking about you,” Chancy admitted. “Gushing like a couple of lovesick fans about how amazing you were tonight.” Her face dropped as she registered his face.

“And you just had to answer the door dressed like that,” he muttered, nodding at her pale peach satin nightgown and robe. She followed his look, seeing only that she was more covered than she had been wearing her dress to the show.

“You told me to get ready for bed,” she returned, trying to keep her voice even.

“I also tell you to hang on the door whispering and giggling with another man in the hallway while my goddamn back was turned?”

“We were talking about you,” she repeated, gritting her teeth.

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” he muttered. He threw the towel he had been using for his hair towards the armchair, but it missed and landed on the floor. Chancy could feel all the warmth and giddiness she had been swimming in since the show draining as quickly as if someone had pulled the plug. Swallowing, she reached down to pick up the towel and return it to the bathroom.

“Wait.” He grabbed her shoulders, his long fingers pressing into her shoulder blades as his thumbs rested into the dips above her collar bones.

“Wait, really?” she asked wearily. “You’re stealing my lines now?”

The snort of laughter this provoked was all the sweeter since it was clearly a surprise even to him considering the mood he had gotten himself into.

“Lord, did I ever get sick of waitin’!” he intoned, sounding like a preacher starting to warm up the congregation.

Chancy tried to capitalise on this favourable mood swing by drawing in towards him, but his arms remained firm holding her shoulders.

“So, tell me,” he said in a low voice. “What were you two saying about me?”

“Well, you know Jerry, he was obviously going ga-ga over how sexy you were, but me being a distinguished music critic of good standing…”

Chancy glanced up at him slyly and was struck by his warm and amused expression; the way his heavy-lidded eyes were fixed on her, lips tilted up so minutely and mouth open, utterly unself-conscious. It was a powerful feeling being the focus of his undivided attention and it chimed in her, finding an echo in so many memories that she kept close and did not examine too often because of the dissonance she usually felt between the sweet, intense boy she had once unravelled her unprepared heart for and the showman he was now, always giving a performance no matter the size of the audience. She could see him clearly now, her first love, and the unexpected recognition hit her like a blow, knocking the air from her chest.

“You okay?” he asked, frowning slightly. “Honey, why’d you stop?”

“Uh sorry, I just… had the strangest feeling...” His hands slid over her shoulders and down to her wrists, his fingers encircling them loosely like heavy bangles. “You know, I was so mad when Lamar came to take me to the car at the end of the show because I wanted to stay and gaze at you some more, I didn’t want to miss anything. You’d think after all the times I’ve seen you on stage that I’d stop being so overwhelmed by your gifts, but somehow you just get better and better in ways I can’t predict or understand.”

“You practised that beforehand,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “No way that came off the cuff.”

“Like with cue cards?” she asked, giggling. “I am nowhere near talented enough to predict anything you might do or say to me, let alone think about how I’d respond!”

“You’re so damn good with words,” he commented, shaking his head. “Thank you, darlin’, that was beautiful and real sweet.”

Chancy thought that she had managed it, changed the course of the evening and steered them away from stormy weather. She thought it, but found out when she tried to take a step in towards him and his grip tightened on her wrists. She accepted that he was not going to let her ‘get away with it’ and decided to give in sooner rather than later.

“Honey, I’m sorry,” she found herself saying and hated herself. “I wasn’t thinking, I was just excited to talk about the show with someone.” She felt his fingers graze the side of her palms as he finally released her, but there was no other response. She took a contrite step forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, nuzzling into his side. “Let’s have dinner, huh, baby, before it gets cold?” He made no move to return her affection or even move until she released him, then he trailed her to the couch.

“What the fuck is this?!”

Chancy glanced up from the trolley she had been unloading and followed his disgusted gaze to the television, where the other him was currently singing a love song to a beautiful bikini clad woman. Chancy snorted, biting on her lip as his eyes flicked to her.

“Oh I, uh, missed you while you were taking a shower?” she offered in answer to the question in his raised eyebrow.

“You are really pushing me, woman,” he said in a soft voice, gritting his teeth. He changed the channel, muttering, “Get lost, fool.”

“Now I’ll never know how it ends,” she sighed, passing him his plate.

“It ends the same way they all ended, darlin’, a big shoot-out and every motherfucker dies ‘cept the dog.”

“Hmm, I don’t think that was in the theatrical release. Hate to tell you but they might have cut that scene.”

“Aw shit, that was the best part.”

Chancy asked if he wanted her to cut up his steak and he passed over his plate wordlessly. While he waited, he poured her iced tea and reached over to scoop the onions from her steak onto his plate. If only everything was easy as eating, she reflected with a wry smile.

“You spoken to your sister?” he asked once they had started to dig in. Chancy glanced back from the television where a reporter was broadcasting from what looked like some kind of county fair.

“Um, not for a couple of days, I think. It’s really hard to keep track of the days, isn’t it.”

“There are days?” he replied sardonically. She half-smiled and went back to stirring the food on her plate. Her stomach was not fooled by her thinking of the meal as dinner. It knew that it was past midnight and it was firmly informing her that it was now off the clock and not prepared to receive anything until morning.

“So, she don’t know about-?“ He wiggled his index finger between the two of them. “You ain’t told her?” If her appetite had been miniscule before, it evaporated then. She reached for her iced tea to wet her suddenly cotton-dry mouth and studiously avoided looking at him.

“Um, it’s like you said before, I don’t even know what this is myself. I wouldn’t know what to say.” He finished his mouthful and put his empty plate to one side before turning towards her. She gripped her own like it was a shield and her whipped potato an army ready to defend her.

“You done?” She reluctantly nodded and he took her shield away.

When he turned to her again, she could see the same anxiety she was feeling reflected in him. His jaw was clenched, the muscle flickering, nostrils flaring and his eyes gazing just off her left knee. In a way, that made her feel more at ease because she didn’t feel like she was the only one being towed into the unknown by a strong current.

“It’s okay,” she said, finally gripping her nerve. “You don’t have to try and explain it.” His eyes focussed on her. “I know you can’t just go out and meet someone like a regular person, especially not on tour. It doesn’t have to be… You don’t have to pretend with me that it’s any more than it is, you don’t have to waste time acclimatising me to this whole situation. We can spend time together without it being a big production. I don’t have any expectations and I won’t make any demands of you-“

“Darlin’, I’m gonna stop you there,” he said abruptly, talking faster than normal. “First of all, it is beyond easy for me to get a chick anywhere. I could go downstairs and turn around and come straight back up here with a girl, don’t you worry about that.”

Chancy chewed on her lips to stop herself from smirking. It was so like Elvis to listen to her awkward, heartfelt speech and hear only a need to defend his sex appeal.

“Second of all, woman, how can you spend so much time thinking and watching a-a-and still end up so damn wrong?!” Her smirk dissolved into bemusement. “You think I want you with me because it’s easier?! Cha-Cha, this whole thing has me scared to fucking death.”

His voice cracked and it felt as though someone cold-cocked her in the diaphragm. She opened her mouth to ask why it was happening then, but he shook his head and put his fingertips over her lips.

“Let me talk, goddamn it!”

So, she waited, but he didn’t continue, just stared in frustration at the hand he had pressed to her mouth.

“I ain’t much for thinking when it comes to what I want,” he blurted finally, when she had been about to pull his hand away. “I- I know I get led by my… feelings. Mama’d always scold me for it and I never learned my lesson but with you. Lord, the number of times I’ve wanted to kiss you and stopped myself because I knew how badly it could upset everything.” She asked a question that was entirely muffled by the hand over her lips. He reluctantly dropped it.

“What changed?” she said again.

“I don’t know,” he returned edgily. “I guess this time I felt that you would kiss me back, but, shit, it was touch and go for a second there, weren’t it?” She laughed and covered her face, feeling her cheeks scalding her palms. “Hey, I’m the one pouring his heart out here, ain’t no reason for you to be embarrassed!”

Chancy let her hands drop.

“You’re kinda good with words too, you know,” she observed.

“Would’ve probably been more romantic without all the cussing though, huh,” he observed with his small, natural smile.

“Nope, I wouldn’t have believed it came from you,” she replied, dipping her head, embarrassed by how much her cheeks seemed to be throbbing neon.

In response, he leant forward and cradled her jaw in his hands, enveloping her in a kiss that seemed to keep deepening until he was stealing the breath from her. Her hands couldn’t settle on what to touch, gripping his shoulders, encircling his neck, rubbing down his biceps. So much territory for her to rediscover that it was a little overwhelming.

As for what he had said, she refused to delve into that, because she knew that he was good at telling people what he thought they wanted to hear. That was the source of his infamous ‘where have you been, I’ve been searching for you all my life’ come-on that he had apparently refined and reused throughout the years.

It was the secret of his popularity, both in terms of his career and with the people around him. He figured you out and then he offered you some of what you needed, just enough to keep you hanging around for more.

Of course, Chancy’s traitorous brain was questioning why, if it was all a strategy, he had fed her the line about wanting her over the years when he had admitted in the same breath that he knew she had not wanted the same. She could not answer that, but then Elvis had mastered people the way that some people master chess. It was possible that he was just several moves ahead of her.

Almost as if he could hear her thoughts, he pulled back from where his lips were tickling and nuzzling her neck and his eyes narrowed. She panicked momentarily that she had spoken them out loud.

“I swear that I’m gonna figure out how to switch that brain of yours off, honey, or turn down the volume at least. I can hear the goddamn buzzing going on in there.”

“Hey, I was just thinking that this would be even better on the bed,” she replied. So, they decided to get ready for bed and she cleaned up after their meal while he used the bathroom.

Opening the door, she wheeled the trolley out into the hallway. Forgetting where she was, she almost screamed when she found Red sitting outside her room cleaning one of his guns. She pulled her robe tighter around herself and gave him a taut smile, not wanting a repeat of the situation with Jerry. Red noted the lack of conversation with a frown; she was not exactly known to be the shy, retiring type after all.

“Hey, kid, you al-“

Chancy closed the door quickly and threw herself at the bed as the bathroom door opened. She hurried round Elvis as he came out because she knew his eyes saw everything and she was too tired to explain why she was looking guilty for taking out the dinner trolley.

By the time she had brushed her teeth and hair, washed her face, and silently screamed at her reflection for a couple of minutes, Elvis had turned out most of the lights in the room apart from a desk lamp on the far side. The TV was off, but the radio was playing ‘Cry to Me’ by Solomon Burke.

As she padded across the room to the bed, she was hit by a memory of dancing to the song in a bar. The recollection was so strong it passed through her like a wave, making her falter as she climbed onto the bed.

Elvis was lying in bed with one hand behind his head. He smiled at her as she primly folded back the blankets to climb in next to him and outright laughed when she settled herself down about two feet away from him with her arms very demurely tucked into her sides on the outside of the blankets.

“Were you always this weird?” he asked, reaching under the covers, grabbing one of her arms and legs and dragging her sharply across to him.

“Says the guy throwing me around like a caveman,” she retorted, glad that the low lighting was hiding her blushes.

“How long were you freaking out in there before you got up the courage to come on out?” he asked with irritating insight.

“Shut up,” she mumbled, clambering onto her hands and knees, and laying her palms on either side of his face. It was very difficult to kiss someone when they were laughing at you, as Chancy soon discovered.

“Stop it!” she whined. “Right, that’s it!” She feigned climbing back out of the bed and he reached up and grabbed her by the waist, yanking her back down and rolling on top of her.

“You ain’t going anywhere,” he informed her, all humour gone from his face. Although he was supporting himself with his hands, his remaining weight pinned her to the bed and she had a very real sense of being trapped. She stared at him above her, his face wreathed in shadow and his dark hair hanging down, and shuddered as her nerves all started firing at once.

As he brought his head down so that he could brush his pillowy lips against hers, she could feel his arms beginning to tremble. So, she reached up and hooked her arms up behind his, her hands settling on his shoulders, and pulled him in.

“Baby, I don’t wanna hurt you,” he mumbled into her mouth.

In answer, she tugged again and then pushed up against his lips, whispering his name along with a desperate sounding ‘please’.

“Oh God,” he groaned, lowering himself onto her at the same time as his groin ground against her. “Honey, you’re gonna be the death of us both.” She smiled as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, breathing heavy through his nose at being pressed so tightly against her.

As the minutes passed, Chancy’s thoughts and awareness shrank until they encompassed only the bed and the bodies upon it. Her skin was burning, covered not only by Elvis’s weighty and fiercely hot frame, but also the blankets over him. She dragged her lower lip along his jaw and pressed her mouth into the crook of his neck, licking at the salt collecting there. This earnt her another roll of his hips and sharp hiss through his teeth. The lapping turned into sucking and tentatively she closed her teeth against his skin. He grunted as he pulled back, pushing himself up on one elbow, which had the effect of nudging the firm bulge of him into the crease of her inner thigh. She wanted to squirm to position him more favourably, but he took hold of her chin.

“No biting,” he growled in a low voice. “I ain’t getting up in front of fifteen thousand people with hickeys like I’m nineteen!”

“No biting where anyone else can see,” she gasped. “Got you.”

In response, he smothered her with a breathy, hot kiss, his tongue ploughing into her mouth, choking off her moan. He had finally positioned his hips exactly where she needed them and she thrusted against him, wrapping her leg over his hip when he pulled back.

“Goddamn, you’re feisty!” he panted, running his hand from her foot, the heel of which was nudging into his ass, and all the way along to her hip, managing to get hold of it despite all her wriggling. She whined as he pinned her down, forcefully putting a stop to her rutting against him.

“I think we’re a little unclear on who’s in charge here,” he said hoarsely, shoving himself back onto his knees. “Jesus, it’s like being in a damn oven.”

He threw the blankets to one side and the cool air came surging in, sweeping across Chancy’s skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. She looked down, baffled at how they were both still fully clothed in their nightwear when she had been edging temptingly close to pleasure. She shivered as the sweat on her skin began to cool and sat up, reaching for him and his warmth.

“Now, see, this is what I’m talking about,” he muttered, sounding irritated. “You got too accustomed to being in charge, honey. You forgot who the boss is around here.” She shivered again, and this time it had nothing to do with the cold.

“You don’t want me to want you?” she asked in a half whisper.

“Baby, of course I do. I- I- It’s just… Good little girls let their man set the pace. They’re not so damn pushy.” He might as well have poured a glass of cold water over her. She drew her knees into her chest and folded her arms around her legs.

“Well, maybe the problem is that I grew out of being a good little girl a long time ago,” she returned hotly. She could feel her eyes stinging with tears that she angrily blinked away. It had been a long day, she was exhausted, and if she had to hear about one more thing that she had done wrong…

There was a long, uncomfortable pause and she considered that it had all begun and ended in a matter of days because she dared to be enthusiastic about reaching second base with a man who had slept with hundreds, if not thousands, of women.

“No, you’ll always be my good lil girl,” he cooed softly, shuffling closer so that he could pull her tightly contorted body in between his legs. She resisted the pressure of his hands to shift her back against him, and locked her grip around her knees by clamping onto her forearms. “When you’re not being a stubborn lil brat, that is.”

“I’m not either of those things,” she insisted in a low voice into her kneecap where she was pressing her mouth.

“Sure you’re not,” he murmured, not even trying to hide his amusement. He gave up trying to draw her into him and instead moved round so that he was facing her. His hands were deliciously warm as they rubbed up and down her chilled arms and when he added his hot breath as he kissed each of her knuckles, she couldn’t help but release her grip.

Like he was positioning a doll, he lifted her arms, one at a time, and placed them at her sides. Then, he turned his attention to her legs, opening them and setting one of her feet on either side of his thighs. Holding her breath, she did nothing to adjust the hem of her nightdress, and his gaze sank down to the shadows at the apex of her legs. The room was so still, with even the radio seemingly broadcasting dead air, that she could hear his soft, shallow pants as he beheld her.

“You gonna be a good little girl for me, baby?”

Deep in the rational part of her mind, she still railed at that description. It felt wrong, whether because she felt he was sticking her on the shelf with all his young and desperate to please girlfriends, one amongst many, or because it felt like he wasn’t seeing her, not all of her, the way she was now.

“I am good,” she managed finally. After a pause, adding, “Boss.”

“So fuckin’ stubborn,” he muttered, as he leant down and manoeuvred himself backwards off the bed. She shrieked when he grabbed her ankles and yanked her to him.

“You know, you could just ask me to move instead of throwing me around like a rag doll,” she snapped, nevertheless rubbing the top of her foot up and down the back of his thigh as he stood at the side of the bed.

“Could,” he agreed. “But where’s the fun in that?”

“You just want everyone to hear me screaming.”

She caught the smirk that passed over his face as he considered this and only had a second to regret putting the idea into his head before he dipped forward and his hot mouth clamped onto her erect nipple right through the satin material. She gasped and writhed as she felt teeth and her hands flew to his hair, though she had no idea whether she wanted to pull him away or hold him there.

“We ain’t going all the way tonight, baby,” he told her, tugging down the top of her nightie and pressing a wet kiss against her areola, flicking the nipple with his tongue. “Don’t have the time to do it the way I want to.”

Chancy heard the unspoken ‘or the energy’ and felt a twinge of guilt. She had seen his exhaustion up close after the show, and her stomach had clenched with each suppressed groan and grimace he had tried to hide from her since then.

“We don’t-” she began, only for him to talk over her.

“But I’m gonna take care of this ornery streak so I can have my sweet baby back again.” He snorted. “Ornery, almost right.”

“I’m not hor-” She cut off as his mouth closed on her breast again and it became a vacuum as he sucked and swirled his tongue to deadly effect. “Ohhhhh. My God.” Her fingers flexed and she absently petted his hair, even getting off on the tickle of the fine strands against her palm. It threw him off as he smothered a laugh at being stroked like a cat.

Recovering, he turned his attention to her other breast and gave it the same treatment, his hands cradling and palming the weight of them.

With a flash of anxiety, she wondered if he was making comparisons, noting the changes since he had last seen her without clothes on. She was fairly satisfied with her body, as much as any person could be, but she knew that she no longer looked like a teenager.

Even if she had wanted to hold onto them, these fears scattered as his hands slid down her sides and fumbled with the bottom of her nightgown where it bunched at the tops of her thighs. He tugged it upwards and she lifted her hips to help, earning herself a sweet peck on her bended knee. He left the bottom of the dress tickling her ribs as he stood at the side of the bed, framed in her eyes by the v of her open, bent legs.

There was a long pause as she watched the path of his eyes from the core of her, up over her hips and ribs, her back arching as if being drawn back to his warmth, her exposed breasts still glistening from his mouth, and up to her flushed face, where her hands had slid up to her own hair, needing desperately to cling to something. She tried to categorise his expression as she watched him suck his bottom lip in between his teeth and let his gaze slip all the way back down again.

Elvis took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, tugging up the legs of his pyjama bottoms at his thighs. Before she understood what was happening, he slowly and, she thought with alarm, somewhat tentatively, sank to his knees.

“Oh honey, you don’t need-”

“Aw hush!” he snapped, his fingers wrapping around the tops of her thighs. She tensed as she felt the first breath of warm air on her sensitive skin, not at all comfortable with being spread out before him with no way of knowing what to expect. This had definitely not been part of his repertoire before and the men that she had been with since either demurred or, quite frankly, floundered when it came to oral.

Chancy bucked in surprise when she felt the flat of his tongue slide confidently up through her folds and over her clitoris, and she cringed at the squeak that she emitted.

“Watch it with them crazy legs,” he mumbled, pressing down on the inside of her knees to stop her from jack-knifing them into his head. She went to apologise, but he got straight back to work with his tongue and a series of sounds came out of her mouth instead.

Elvis didn’t let her get comfortable as he explored her, testing her response to each tactic he employed. He altered the pressure, the speed and the direction his tongue and lips took as they devoured her. It was as if he was cataloguing the sounds and twitches she made, returning to moves that got the biggest reaction just like he did on stage. Her blood felt like ice, her body tensing and tingling entirely out of her control. She tried gripping hold of the sheets, but the silk just slipped through her fingers. She tangled them in her hair, but she was scared that she was going to start pulling it out as she became more undone, more frantic. When he slid his fingers deep into her warmth, she threw back her head and cried out his name, her muscles squeezing onto him, finally having something to hold onto.

Chancy felt caught in an ever-intensifying loop, the pressure and crackles of electricity cascading up from the arches of her feet, through the inside of her legs, and forever building in the centre of her.

With each moan and plea she heard coming from her own mouth and her almost pained panting, it turned up the dial and took her further and further towards mindlessness, just as Elvis was lapping at the centre of her. The sloppy sound of his fingers plunging in and out of her combined with his unexpectedly boyish moans and mumbling finally lifted her over the edge. She squeezed her eyes closed as fluorescent fireworks exploded on the inside of her eyelids. Her entire body was wracked with muscle contractions as if she was being electrocuted by pleasure. She had no idea what she was saying, but she could hear her voice crying out as if from far away.

It took a moment for her to return to herself, to feel the cold air, to notice the tears sliding from the corner of her eyes into the shell of her ears, and hear her breath as it shuddered out from her chest.

Elvis grunted as he rose from his knees, using the mattress to drag himself up. She watched him wipe his face with the back of his hand and sneer a self-satisfied grin as he stared down at her. Then he clumsily climbed back onto the bed and dropped beside her with a sharp exhale.

“Feeling more like my good lil baby now?” he asked, sounding younger than he had in years, and so, so familiar and missed.

Still incapable of words, she rolled towards him and buried her face into his neck, pressing the length of her trembling body against him.

“Yeah, there she is,” he murmured to himself, wrapping his arms around her. She sniffled, taking gulping breaths of his scent to anchor herself, even as aftershocks made her thighs quiver. “Talk to me, baby, let me know you’re okay.”

Elvis nudged her with his shoulder, pushing her back from the warmth and safety of the crook of his neck, so she pulled back and nodded as she clenched her jaw, trying not to let her bottom lip tremble.

“Did you like that?” he prompted, suddenly the insecure boy and not the brash, confident man he tried very hard to pretend he was. She nodded again, which seemed to displease him, so she kissed him instead, nudging and leaning as hard as she could until he finally surrendered and relaxed onto his back, letting her drape herself over him.

“That was incredible,” she whispered, stroking his cheek and nibbling at his plump bottom lip until he relaxed into a smile again, this one small and intimate. “You are incredible. I hope you’re not wanting more than that because incredible is the only word in my mind right now.”

“So, that’s where the button to turn off your brain is!” he exclaimed with faux wonder, a hand slipping down to cup her mound.

Even the feint of a touch had her overstimulated body flinching away from him and he laughed into her ear as she writhed. Her hand missed grabbing his, but slid against his hip, where she felt the firm length of him lifting the silk of his pyjama pants. She kneaded her palm along the shaft, making him groan softly, but this time it was his hand that caught hers.

“Not tonight,” he murmured, pressing his lips against her forehead. “Let’s go to bed, darlin’.” She nodded, pleased that he would be getting the rest he so obviously needed even if she didn’t get the opportunity to shower him with the affection and attention that he had shown her.

As he crawled back up to the pillows, he asked her if she would get him some water, cheekily wondering aloud why his mouth was so dry. She laughed, though her cheeks were burning.

She had to put out her hands to catch herself against the wall when her knees failed to lock as she stepped out of bed, her legs rubbery and weak. She heard a faint snort and turned back, wincing, as of course he had seen her walking like Bambi.

“You okay there, baby?”

“Lookin’ so proud of yourself,” she muttered. It took her a minute to get to the mini fridge and a lot of concentration to pour the water into a glass and then make it back to the bed without spilling it. Her body didn’t seem to be fully under her control anymore.

By this time, Elvis was rifling through orange pill bottles on the nightstand. Chancy could make out at least five different containers.

“Just give it to me straight, is what you have very contagious?” she asked, perching next to him.

“They’re just to help me sleep,” he replied, shooting her a half smile.

“Do you really need all of them, even tonight?”

“Well, see, they all do something different,” he answered, warming to the topic. “These get me to actually fall asleep, which can be tough after a show, you know. And then there’s the red ones that knock me out for a few hours. The white ones take longer to work- s’why I need the others- but they can keep me down for a whole twelve hours sometimes. These ones here help with the sleepwalking… They’re all prescribed by a doctor, honey, and they’re completely safe.”

He certainly seemed familiar with them, nudging pills from the various bottles into his hand with a practised ease. She handed him the water when he reached for it and watched anxiously as he swallowed the medication. He shot her sideways look, a smile faint on his lips.

“Bedtime,” he murmured, squeezing her cheeks between his fingers to make her pout. He positioned himself in the centre of the bed and held out his arms for her like she was a custom-made teddy bear. She shook her head slightly to erase the acidic tone of her thoughts.

Elvis tucked her into his side, her head resting on his chest and his arm cradling her like they were made to fit together. She rested her free hand on his soft stomach, fiddling with the button on his pyjama jacket, but he promptly snatched up her fingers and lifted them to his lips before placing them on his chest. It was a brief glimpse of insecurity and she ached to say something to reassure him, but knew that anything she said would only make him defensive.

“We should call Alicia and tell her about us,” he said abruptly. She frowned, glad that her face was turned away.

“You mean together?”

“Uh huh, she should hear it from both of us. I think she’ll be happy, don’t you?”

“Sure,” she whispered, sliding her fingers into the unbuttoned opening of his pyjama jacket and rubbing circles through the hair on his chest. “Just feels a little like we’re ganging up on her. She’s gonna be surprised.”

“Not that surprised, honey, she knows how we feel about each other. She’s always said that we’d get back together one day.”

This was news to Chancy because her sister never said such things to her. Maybe early on, when everything had been raw and uncomfortable, Alicia had struggled with their breakup. She had been just seven years old when Elvis had come into her life as Chancy’s sweet, charming boyfriend and eleven when everything had imploded so horribly. It had felt like the end of everything for all of them, Chancy most of all. She had not just lost Elvis, but a whole family.

Gradually, though, they had all learnt that the bonds of family could withstand more than they thought. Now, she suspected that Alicia might focus more on the pain another break-up would cause since she no longer needed Chancy to be with Elvis to have him as her ‘big brother’.

“Mama used to say it too,” he murmured, yawning. “She’d be so happy about this, wouldn’t she?”

Now, Chancy thought this was more likely. She also knew that Elvis carried a lot of guilt for what he saw as letting down his mother by not granting her dearest wish to see him married and settled with her grandchildren running around while she was alive.

“She was always happy just as long as you were, darlin’.”

“I am,” he nodded- she felt the movement behind her head. “I am now.”

Chancy’s chest tightened at his words and the seemingly breathless sincerity with which he said them.

Gradually, Elvis’s breathing deepened and slowed and Chancy felt her own eyelids grow heavier. She could not imagine feeling more relaxed than cocooned in his arms, warm and protected. Thank you @thatbanditqueen and @be-my-ally for the cheerleading. I think this means you both owe me a new chapter of yours now. I'm going to be calling in that IOU.

#elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis fic #baby big daddy elvis #big daddy elvis #70s elvis #an enjoyable slide to oblivion #elvis x oc #elvis presley fanfiction

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