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hauntedestheart · 1 year

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The Ghost Of Hartford Manor (Male Possession)

"Frederick, what on Earth are you doing?!" Lady Priscilla shrieked to her son. "Get out of the water this instant!"

"Oh but it's such a hot day and the water feels so lovely!" Frederick called back to her, and then he turned his eyes to the other genteel folk attending the garden party. "Won't you all join me?"

He placed his hands on his hips, as if to draw attention to his nether regions, and everyone at the garden party gasped at the sight of the pendulous manhood swinging freely between his legs for all to see. Frederick beamed at the crowd without a stitch of shame (or pants) and waved his arms, beckoning them towards him, and the party erupted into whispers.

Frederick Hammlebutton, heir to the Hammlebutton fortune, behaving so shamelessly at a high society function? It was the scandal of the year! And if the women folk peeked at him over their fans, eyes drawn to the way the water made his tight shirt cling to his musculature, and a few gentlemen gazed at his cock for a few more seconds than was strictly appropriate... well, it was simply because they wanted to get the latest gossip, that's all. This was a big story.

Only one woman seemed immune to Frederick's charms,

"What a brute!" Lady Catherine Hartfort harrumphed, giving the unclothed man a stare icy enough to freeze the lake around him. "And to think, I almost considered marrying my daughter off to this man! This simply will not do." Catherine turned her eyes to her daughter, the lovely young Dahlia Hartfort, and sighed. "I'm sorry my dear, but the engagement is off."

"Is it?" Dahlia mustered up a forlorn sigh and a small shake of the head. "Oh, darn. And I was so looking forward to marriage."

Truth be told, Dahlia wasn't the least bit disappointed that her potential beau was making an ass of himself with his ass out- on the contrary, his behavior was her doing.

You see, Dahlia had no intention of getting married. She had gotten involved in this newfangled feminism movement, which had opened her eyes to the injustices facing women in their modern society. True. wasn't opposed to the idea of having a man beside her, but the laws surrounding marriage in the modern era were so draconian- the second a man put a ring on her finger, she would become his property. And Dahlia was not about to become someone's property! Besides, she quite liked running the family estate by herself and intended to do so for as long as she could.

Her mother, however, had other ideas. An old fashioned "proper" noble of the old guard, she was a stickler for tradition and stubbornly insisted that her daughter's husband be (quote) "a respectable man of means." And, thanks to the law, if Lady Catherine arranged a marriage with an eligible bachelor, her daughter was bound to follow through.

So since Dahlia couldn't change her mother's mind, and she couldn't say no, she had to find another method of getting her way.

That was when Norman came into the picture. Dear, sweet Norman.

Norman was a dead man, and Dahlia's secret weapon.

The same friends who had introduced Dahlia to feminism had also introduced her to spiritualism, and on one stormy evening she had invited a genuine psychic over to hold a seance. She and her friends had held hands, shrieked and laughed as the lights flickered, and then bid each other goodnight- however once everyone departed, Dahlia found that she was not alone.

A foggy shape hung heavily in one of the mirrors, and when she placed her fingers upon it, a face that was not her own filled the glass. It was the round face of a pudgy young man, with wild untamed hair and a brutal looking bruise around his neck, and most surprising of all- he bowed to Dahlia politely.

Shock held her tongue and prevented her from screaming, but the man in the mirror assured her that he meant her no harm. He introduced himself by the name of Norman, and he waited very politely while Dahlia gathered her wits about her enough to question the spirit.

Norman's story was a sad one: a faithful servant of the family since he was but a boy, he'd confessed his affections towards one of the butlers who had rejected him and in turn gotten him fired from his position with the family. Disgraced and with nowhere else to go, Norman had taken his own life in the study and his spirit had roamed the halls ever since. His existence had been vague and foggy until that very evening when Dahlia's seance had ripped the veil from his eyes and brought him back to the side of the living.

What stood out most to Dahlia about Norman's tale was her family's involvement in the poor man's death. She apologized profusely to the deceased gentleman, who politely accepted, but pointed out that it was probably a bit late for that. Still, Dahlia insisted, to chase someone out simply for who they loved... that was the true disgrace!

But Dahlia was shocked by the notion of two men engaging in amorous congress- how would that even work, she inquired? So Norman guided her to his well-hidden stash of erotic novels, and a quick skim of literature did wonders to change Dahlia's mind. In fact, upon thorough examination, she found the image of two men thrusting their bodies together rather appealing.

(Better they take that aggression out on each other than a woman, she rationalized. And the drawings in some of Norman's books made her mouth water,)

Despite their incompatible orientations the two found themselves to be kindred spirits, both individuals trapped out of time in a society that wouldn't allow them to be who they wanted, and Norman quickly became Dahlia's closest confidant. She was careful to keep their friendship a secret (because if her family knew she was "talking to ghosts" they'd have her institutionalized) but every evening, without fail, she would report to the study and give Norman the latest gossip, or share the newest chapbook she'd acquired.

And when she'd come to Norman one night, sobbing about how her mother intended to marry her off, he proposed a plan to her. Since the seance, his spirit had been growing stronger- strongest of all when he was around Dahlia -and one of the spiritualist texts she'd brought for them to read had contained an interesting idea.

"What if," he proposed to her. "I could superimpose my spirit into the body of another man? That way I could call the engagement off for you. Could be a good way to solve your problem!"

"And be a bit of fun for you," she teased, knowing full well that her friend often lamented his lack of a physical form, and Norman gave a lopsided grin.

She'd agreed, of course.

She still remembers the first man that the two of them had teamed up to take down. Lord Orson was a stunning statue of a man, so painfully gorgeous that Dahlia had briefly considered sacrificing her morals and becoming a dutiful wife if it meant she could be wed to such a prince of a man- until he'd opened his mouth and begun to complain about everything.

What an arrogant ass! Dahlia thought to herself, though she was all smiles on the outside.

His spoiled, sour attitude meant she'd felt little guilt about pulling him aside in the study for a "private chat" beside the old mirror. She watched with mild horror as his eyes rolled back into his head and his body pulsed, groans of agony issuing forth from his handsome lips, and for a moment she was afraid that she had made a mistake and the innocent man was dying- but then he straightened his back and gave her a lopsided grin.

That was her Norman alright.

Norman's first steps as Lord Orson had been strange- he stumbled about like a newborn colt, decades out of practice with having legs, and he complained to Dahlia that he was unused to being so tall. On the whole Lord Orson's physique was a far cry from the one he'd inhabited before his passing, which came as quite a delight to him. His hands pressed into his chest and squeezed at Orson's powerful chest- and when he lifted his shirt, Dahlia understood why the man had struck her as so arrogant.

Norman had been so excited to be amongst the living again that he'd immediately divested himself of his clothes, eager to explore Lord Orson's chiseled musculature, and while Dahlia had enjoyed the sight of the gorgeous man examining his body in the mirror, she had to beg him to remain decent at least until dinner. Norman begrudgingly agreed, but if anyone noticed that Lord Orson seemed strangely preoccupied with readjusting his britches all afternoon, they wisely kept their mouths shut.

Getting to spend the afternoon cavorting about with Norman had been delightful, and even her mother had been surprised by how well Dahlia and "Lord Orson" were getting along. She'd puffed herself up like a smug peacock thinking she'd found her daughter the perfect match- right up until she walked in on him buried balls deep in the stable boy.

And to think, her poor daughter had been struck frozen with shock at the sight and had helplessly borne witness to the whole thing!

Needless to say, Lord Orson was quickly dismissed after such a shocking display, and Dahlia was free to maintain her status as an unmarried woman. As for Lord Orson, the second he crossed the property line of the estate he claimed to have no memory of the events at all- though most people took these claims to be a shoddy attempt to save face.

The rest of Dahlia's suitors had met similarly strange fates:

The Duke of Chustlewitt was a slender thing, barely even of marrying age, but he threw himself at every man in his path with the appetite of a man twice his years and made eyes at them like he was a cheap whore. Lady Catherine had been horrified, but Dahlia insisted they give the man a chance- one that ended in the storeroom with the chef's assistant making very inappropriate usage of some butter.

The Earl of Trackspont, a great big bear of a man, had been dismissed after a few short hours when Lady Catherine realized he didn't plan to stop lifting his shirt up and shaking his own hairy belly at the slightest excuse to do so. He'd slapped at his stomach and called Lady Catherine a prude, and still managed to snag one of the serving boys on the way out.

Sir Timone had been a promising suitor, a dashing musician employed by the royal court, but when the guests at the afternoon get-together had begged him to play piano for them the song he'd sung had been shockingly lewd and concluded with him whipping out his hard cock and plunking it upon the keys.

Count Ludovich was an educated man with degrees from several universities, but he proudly informed everyone at breakfast that his proudest achievement was how many candlesticks he could fit into his buttocks. He'd made it up to four before he was forcibly removed from the premises.

Sir Barstew had made it all the way to dinner before stripping his pants and depositing his genitals into the stew- and then offering Lord Heckleston cousin a taste. (Dahlia had scolded Norman for that one- it had been too funny, she said, and she had almost burst out laughing at the table.)

And so on.

Unfortunately for Dahlia (but fortunately for Norman) each failure only seemed to increase Lady Catherine's determination to find a match for her daughter, and thanks to the estate's considerable means she found no short supply of suitors ready to take her up on the offer despite the unsavory rumors beginning to swirl around the Hartford estate.

Funnily enough, Dahlia had noticed that since she and Norman had begun their escapades, invitations to Lady Catherine's parties had become some of the most sought after social items in town.

Dahlia roused herself from her musings and returned her attention to the table, where the matchmaker was apologizing profusely to her mother.

"I swear, I don't know what's gotten into him!" The poor woman protested, eyeing the throbbing vein on Dahlia's mother's forehead. "He's always been such a polite boy."

"I'll tell you what's gotten into him-" Lady Catherine huffed, giving a haughty toss of the head. "He has the table manners of a horse!"

"And that's not all he has from a horse," muttered one of Dahlia's friends, drawing a snicker from the other girls at the table.

"And what is it that you lot are whispering about?" Catherine sniped, fixing her withering gaze upon the younger women, who all busied themselves with the tea and cakes.

"Merely remarking what a shame it is that such a remarkably gifted young man should go astray like this," one of them said quickly.

"Yes, such a shame," Damonia echoed, hiding her smile behind a sip of tea.

"How peculiar that this should happen to every single suitable bachelor that we have brought for you," Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes and glared at her daughter, and one eyebrow raised in an unspoken challenge.

"How peculiar indeed," Dahlia demurred, her face the picture of innocence. "It's so hard to find a proper gentleman in this modern era- it almost makes one think that the estate would be better off in the hands of, say a woman."

"Almost," her mother said, her thin lips pressing into an unimpressed frown. "But not quite yet. I've been in contact with another matchmaker and the Earl of Windton will be arriving in a fortnight- an upstanding military man, so we should expect no tomfoolery from him."

Dahlia smiled- a soldier? Norman would be most delighted.

She just hoped that Norman wouldn't be too rough on this one- he'd done such a job on the last beau that the poor man had fled to America to escape the scandal. This Frederick fellow had been humiliated enough, she would have to get Norman release him soon.

She glanced across the party towards the lake, where Norman was still frolicking about using Frederick's face and Lady Priscilla was still desperately trying to get her son's body out of the water.

"At least cover yourself!" Lady Priscilla wailed, then she lowered her voice to heated stage whisper. "Everyone can see your buttocks!"

"Cover myself? Why?" Norman gave a cheeky grin and his hands reached down to his backside and teased at the ample flesh of Frederick's cheeks. "I've got such a lovely bum! Everyone should get a chance to see it."

Dahlia vaguely recalled the matchmaker mentioning that Frederick was a horseback riding champion of some sort, and as she watched his copious buttocks jiggle, she could believe it.

She could talk to him later, she decided. For now, she was enjoying the lovely garden view.

#male possession #I. hate. coming up with names.

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leeeeeeeeech · 7 months

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Been thinking about eldritch Beej a lot, and I'm in the process of polishing up my ao3 fic, but I just had to get a scene out of my head so enjoy :3

Fem! reader

Well, this was not how you anticipated your night going. The date started off well enough. The guy was cute, handsome even. He said all the right things, he was interesting, he was the perfect guy to take home to the folks….

But he wasn't Beetlejuice.

That was the issue. The kerfuffle if you will. The whole date, I couldn't stop thinking of that damn pervert. Imagining how he would react to what I said. Probably some fumbled sex joke instead of the polite cough I received in its stead. Polite, and superficial. Like a business meeting. Transactional intimacy at its finest. I got a goodnight kiss at least. But, all I could think about was what was missing. The lack of scratchy stubble, the smell of dirt, the grabby hands...

"No dice?" Beetlejuice had asked me. He had told me that guy seemed like a loser, not worth my time, yadda yadda. I remember rolling my eyes and muttering something about keeping his dirty shoes off my couch before storming off to my room. I could still feel the fiery white hot sensation in my chest as his echoing laugh followed me down the hall.

At first, I mistook it for annoyance. Beetlejuice always had something to say about my dating life. Nobody was good enough. I knew he just didn't like the idea of me giving my attention to someone else. He had to get over himself at some point!

Now, I'm in my bed, fucking myself with my fingers. Apparently the line between anger and horniness has dwindled significantly.

Go figure.

"Hmnn." I bit my lip, trying to keep myself quiet. It's been a while since I've masturbated, my pussy tingling deliciously as I furiously rubbed at it, growing impatient. All I wanted was to cum and go to sleep. I just wanted to forget my stupid feelings for the night. I could sort them out tomorrow.

A low growl reverberated throughout the room, making me freeze in place. A green glow filled the space, illuminating my room in a otherworldly light. The air seemed taught, like a string about to snap. My eyes darted around just as a low whine stretched itself from the doorway to me. Beetlejuice stood there, with an expression I didn't quite recognize.

I snapped out of whatever spell I was under, and covered myself with my blanket. He laughed, taking a step closer towards the bed.

"Little late for that toots."

He breathed in deep, his nostrils flaring. He closed his eyes, and that low rumble filled the room once again. Like thunder.

"Get out. I don't want you here." Another step towards the bed. His eyes shone in the dark, there glow held a primal power that made my insides throb with fear, or maybe desire. Hell, it was probably a little of both.

"We both know that one's a lie, Y/n~" He smirked, tugging on the blanket. I tightened my grip on it.

"N-No. I want you out." Wow, even I didn't believe myself. He chuckled, tearing the blanket away with ease. I snapped my legs together as the cold air hit my exposed sex.

"Don't be shy now, babes. I know you were thinking about me." He drawls. My face heats up at the declaration. He doesn't say anything regarding it, but I don't miss his shit eating grin.

" I can smell how wet ya are around me ya know," His eyes rake over me, and I feel like I'm burning underneath his gaze.

"I know you like it when I feel ya up." A set of hands appeared by my chest, giving my breasts a playful squeeze. I gasp, but there gone before I can do much else.

"It's been torture to hear ya practically scream for me in yer sleep." I can't get much more red at this point. This is humiliating, being emotionally eviscerated like this. I feel that familiar throb once again, like my ovaries are pounding at the door to the outside, begging for him.

"Whatever yer fantasizing, I can do sooo much better~" He winked, giving a small chuckle.

"Wha- why...?" My words caught in my throat as I felt something slimy wrap itself around my ankle. I look down and gasp as a tentacle waves at me before stretching itself towards my thigh, pulling my leg outward. My breath hitches, and I try to fight it.

"Never been one fer slowburns. Gets boring. I like a lotta action." Beetlejuice chuckled. Another tentacle appeared from behind him, diving straight for my other thigh, practically wrenching my leg open. I panted from the overexertion, and watched helplessly as Beetlejuice leaned forward, his arms boxing me in as he looked me up and down once again before meeting my eyes.

"You want me to stop, you know the words." All I do is nod, giving in to him. He smiled that signature toothy grin, before sliding down my torso. He gives a small bite to the inside of my thigh, making my breath shudder. He chuckled again.

"Don't worry, Y/n, I'll take very good care of you~" His tongue snaked its way out of his mouth, and made it's way towards my dripping sex.

#a lil sneak peek of what's to come over on ao3! :3 #this drabble turned out a lot longer than I thought it would #oops #beej thoughts #it gets a lot more monstrous don't worry #don't wanna give away too much lol #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice smut #beetlejuice x y/n #my writing

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arclundarchivist · 6 months

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SPOILERS C3E91

TURN BACK

THIS IS NOT A PLACE OF COMFORT!

Goodnight, Smiley Day

He blinks, and he…. feels the touch of light on his skin.

The warmth of the air around him, he breathes in and he tastes all he has ever wished, oranges and mint and chocolate and water.

Fresh Cut Grass pushes himself to stand and looks around. An idyllic field rolls into the distance, all about him, except for where he currently stands.

A crossroads.

And from it, the paths extend far beyond the horizon, rising into beautiful tresses of the goddess he has only ever seen at a distance.

The Changebringer.

She smiles, and suddenly, she and he are eye to eye, her gentle hand reaching up to caress his cheek.

"I… is this how it always goes?" they ask.

She laughs, gentle yet sad, her eyes surprisingly downcast.

"No… no, it isn't," she states, looking to the sky, and he follows her gaze.

Ruidus bleeds in the sky, scarlet light snapping and biting at the pristine blue, and he can hear… a scream on the wind.

"We live in unfortunate and unusual times." she breathes.

"Yeah… yeah." he agrees, looking up at her after a moment.

"Did I make the right choice?" he asks, clutching for the coin but instead finding her hand.

She gives it a comforting squeeze.

"What do you think?" she asks.

"I…" he pauses.

"Yes." he finally states, and she smiles.

"I don't know what kind of path I'd set them on, but… I'm glad they'll get to keep walking on." he states, "Even if I'm… not there with them."

"Who says you won't be?" the Changebringer asks, gesturing towards the roads winding away from them.

And suddenly he can see his friends.

Ashton, carving a path, grief, and rage shattering stone as his coin, a beacon, clutched tightly in their fist.

Imogen kissing her hand as she lays it on his body, that same hand then tightly grasping her mother's, a road reforged between them, "Thank you, Letters."

Orym, standing firm, bronze armor marked by three blades of grass shimmering defiantly against an oncoming storm, "Together, Grass."

Chetney carving a toy in his likeness to hand to a frightened child, "For a smiley day."

Fearne snatches the coin from Ashton, kissing it and slipping it back, "So we're both with them for tomorrow."

Laudna stands at a crossroads beneath a tree, half livened, half wizened, reaching for the glow even though it burns her hand. There is resolve in her eyes.

Dorian, amidst unfamiliar faces, staring up at the red moon.

"We're fighting for a shiny day."

A confused dwarf looks up at him, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Something a friend always wanted. A good day." Dorian remarks, tapping the sending stone in his palm.

"I love you, Faithful Caregiver." A soft voice murmurs.

They freeze, turning to see FRIDA standing and looking at him, gently smiling, "I'll see you soon."

"No, you… you take your time," FCG mutters, and to his surprise, tears track down his face.

The Changebringer reaches out and wipes them away before pulling him into a tight embrace.

Huh… so this was a hug.

"Do… do folks always feel most alive at the end?"

"Not always. The end doesn't give the journey meaning; it's the joys you find along the way." The Changebringer returns, squeezing him tighter.

He sees Milo, Dancer, Joe, Deanna and Prism, all trying to make sense of the world and the paths set before them.

"You did good." a gruff voice remarks, the whisper of Eshteross.

"But the journey's just begun." a more jovial voice states, Bertrand.

And there they stand, down the road.

"What… what happens now?" FCG asks, looking to the Changebringer.

"Now, we do what we can from this side." she states, "And see this all to the end of the road."

"Alright… alright." he remarks, smiling as she squeezes his hand once more, "I'm ready."

And he heads on down the road.

Goodbye, Fresh Cut Grass. Your love, your faith, your hope, let it ever be a beacon for those who knew you best.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr imogen #cr fearne #ruidus #cr laudna #cr orym #cr ashton #cr chetney #cr fcg #cr frida #cr dorian #cr deanna

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thecoffeelorian · 5 months

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Hold My Hand (Crosshair x Reader)

Premise: This is the third installment of...what should have been a one-shot, but here we all are a long while later, so it's probably best to just keep on going down this road to see where it leads. Anyway, Part One was Understanding and Part Two was Red Flags, so if you haven't checked those out yet, feel free to do so now.

Story Notes: One small thing about the tagging system, if I didn't say it already: I hope to make a few more updates for this series, so just in case I am, in fact, keeping the folks who want to read and reblog in the loop, please don't hesitate to do so when you are able. If I'm not...you're welcome to ignore this from here on in, and I'll eventually stop tagging you altogether. Thank you, goodnight, and good luck.

Special Notes: As ever, the header was made by @stars-n-spice. Also, little shout-out to @talesfrommedinastation for inspiring me to use a form of sign language between two characters, one that was originally invented for speaking in deep space when the commlinks didn't work, and also mostly inspired by something similar in "The Expanse".

No-Pressure Tags:

@momojedi @moonstrider9904 @calicos-clones @bigboypantstime @youreababboon

@tink1221 @ms-grassi @galaxyglittering @ah-prick24 @littlefeatherr

@donntmindmejustwandering @housepartyfortwo @beatthisbi @urmomsmattress @mysticalgalaxysalad

@groguandthebadbatch @pendustt @weirdest-lights @flyiingsly @courtney0-0

@emmaflame1336 @briefexpertdeer @shadow-rebel-223 @littlemammoth69 @theosb0rnway

@shazkenobi @reader6898 @maxims-multifandom-corner @monster20045 @darkangel4121

@nevadastarrsworld @thatacefr @crosshair-lover @bennieandthejets-5 @jamine-boi-124

@lani03sstuff @ttzamara @beezez-blog @myeternalsin @sublimeclodkidcolor

@nish-xiii @ash04w3 @clonereeses @lllllmm @melymigo and anybody else looking for a tale that doesn't end in disaster.

🩶 It's my fault.

🩶 This one simple sentence, this confession, jolts through both you and Omega like a blaster bolt. It's more than enough to make the tears start forming in her eyes, and the questions to build up in yours.

🩶 He doesn't seem to be done talking yet, though, because what spills out of him next speaks volumes.

🩶 "I thought they would--protect us, but they lied. They've been lying this whole time."

🩶 By this point, his hand is shaking so much that you don't think about it, that you don't dare to ask any more questions for fear of making an already painful thing several times worse.

🩶 Rather, you're just moving in to take a gentle hold upon it, if only to offer him whatever comfort that you can.

🩶 To your own comfort, though, he doesn't flinch, pull away, or start telling you off in front of Omega even though you would understand perfectly if he did.

🩶 Instead, whatever's causing all of his ills today eases just a little at the moment of contact with you, because the next thing you both know, his panicked breathing is slowing down and his tense posture starts to loosen up.

🩶 This moment can't last very long, though, because as Omega quietly reminds you, she still has to call home and she thought she heard voices calling in the distance. There is literally no time to lose.

🩶 In turn, you don't mind bringing both of your guests to the old spaceport that used to be your family's business during the war, but since then has had to be converted to a ship repair shop like several more wartime industries have done on your planet. However, there are still a few things you can use here, because you haven't exactly let everything go to rust.

🩶 One of these things is the communication console, a somewhat rusted thing, but still able to access encrypted links like the one on board the Marauder. It's here that Omega hears the voices of her surviving brothers for the first time in what feels like forever, and like any other missing child would do, she's able to let a few relieved sobs out of her system.

🩶 She's also composed herself enough to plan her next few steps, for her next move is to go straight to one of Ryloth's moons for a pick-up...or so she tells the two men on the other end of this line.

🩶 You can only hope that this means she wants to surprise them, guaranteeing two returns of lost family members for the price of one flight, as the old sale slogan goes.

🩶 At this same time, though, Crosshair's got a surprise of his own, for as Omega's busy talking, he's busy signaling to you without saying a word. It's the old spacewalk sign language, the one developed by the first workers within the asteroid belt for when their comms stopped working...and right now, he's telling you that he won't be following Omega down the ramp when the time comes.

🩶 How come, you sign back, a look of confusion upon your face. Don't you want to go with her?

🩶 They'll be looking for two clones traveling together, not separately...and besides, I already know I won't be welcome there.

🩶 Oh...? And where do you plan to go, if not with her?

🩶 I'll improvise. Now...act natural.

🩶 Both of you fall awkwardly silent as Omega finishes her comm; then skips back to you with the most heartbreaking of hopeful grins.

🩶 "They're coming to pick us up," she announces, twirling around in place like a happy little service droid. "We get to go home, home, home!"

🩶 "That's--that's great, Omega," Crosshair manages, forcing out the words as though trying not to choke on them. "Just--don't forget not to leave anything behind, all right?"

🩶 That's your cue to signal to them to go back to the house with you--you definitely have to hide the extra used dishes and utensils until further notice, what decent person wouldn't--but before you do, you're careful to make sure that the shop sign stays upon the word "Closed". The last thing anybody needs right now is some pushy customer demanding service.

🩶 Once you take all of the necessary precautions, though...you have to take just one more look around this little home of yours, if only to reassure yourself that you'll return to it soon, if not eventually.

🩶 After all, just like your mother used to say, the galaxy can be a huge, scary place.

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #tbb crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair tbb #crosshair bad batch #crosshair x reader #tbb omega #omega tbb #omega bad batch #tbb crosshair and omega #tbb crosshair x you #the bad batch season 3 #tbb: the surprise guest series

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raya-hunter01 · 10 months

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Fade Into You Part. 5

Prequel Lights, Camera, Action!

Jey Uso x Black Female OC! (Shantell)

Roman x Black Female OC! Tangela

Solo x Black Female OC! Sofia

Jimmy x Trin

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; oral, sex, fluff, masturbation

FADE INTO YOU

Summary: This is the Prequel for Lights, Camera, Action! How does an outburst on your first day lead to a lifelong friendship with the Tribal Chief Roman Reigns and the stands the test of time. How does that friendship introduce you to a special group of people that will become your family.

When did the lines get blurred between friendship and wanting a relationship with one of your best friends Mr. Main Event Jey Uso. Follow the friendships, and relationships of how they all came to be the one big happy family we all know and love in Lights, Camera, Action.

----

New Years Eve Party

Jey’s House

“Jey, you have been ignoring me all night,” Taraji whined as Trin rolled her eyes. “Well, that is what happens when you show up somewhere uninvited,” Trin said as Taraji ignored her.

I mean Trin had a point, I didn’t even know this girl knew where I lived.

“Look Taraji this is for family, and I don’t really like you showin’ up uninvited,” I said honestly truly regretting having slept with her a couple months ago.

She made a big deal of it being about having fun but she’s lingering around.

I admit I gotta stop falling into the trap when she calls or texts about wanting to hang out.

“I can go, it’s no problem,” Taraji said turning on the tears. “Oh, ok please do,” Trin said pulling me onto the dance floor as I shook my head.

“I’ll talk to you later Taraji,” I said as Trin and I continued our dance.

“See you did this shit, all you had to do was keep lil Jey in your pants,” Trin said as I rolled my eyes.

“I know Trin, you right, I gotta do better,” I said as we danced. I finally could relax as I saw Sefa walking Taraji out.

---

Sefa’s POV

“Are you sober enough to drive?” I asked as she smiled at me. “What you wanna take me home?” she purred as I cringed.

“Not really I was just making sure you don’t kill yourself, or someone else on the road,” I said honestly.

“I’m good I didn’t drink anything,” she said as I waved and began to walk back inside not even saying goodnight.

“What hold does Shantell hold over ya’ll?” Taraji asked as I turned to look at her. “What do you mean by that?” I asked as she smirked at me.

“Ya’ll just seem to just really love protecting her, I saw how ya’ll surrounded her tonight, almost like I was the bad guy she needed protecting from,” Taraji said as I sighed.

“It’s none of your concern, but we look after our family. That’s something you will never be, no matter how many times you open your legs to my brother,” I said walking away from her as growled in her throat.

“You are such an asshole,” she said as I kept walking ignoring her.

“Damn, you make shit so complicated Jey,” I mumbled to myself going back inside to join the party as I heard Taraji speed out of the driveway.

Joe’s POV

“Shantell not that I mind, but if you keep me to yourself all night folks gon’ start to think we are dating,” Joe said laughing holding me tight as we danced.

“Hey, I danced with Jimmy and Sefa too so there,” I whined as he spun me around. “Hey, I’m just teasing you babydoll, you know you my only dance partner at these functions,” Joe said as we continued to dance as Jey and Trin were dancing next to us.

I felt Jey’s eyes on me as I lifted my head off of Joe’s shoulder and met his intense gaze.

I felt almost naked under his gaze as I saw the questioning in his eyes before he turned back to Trin.

They exchanged a few words, as she slapped his shoulder. It seemed as if they were engaged in a deep conversation, making me wonder what they were talking about.

Trin’s POV

“Jey, you know you want to dance with Shantell, go ask her,” I encouraged as he shook his head. “Nah, I don’t want to interrupt her and Joe, they seem to be enjoying themselves,” he said as I slapped his shoulder.

“You know they are just friends, stop inventing issues. The only issue is you’re too scared to admit you like her,” I said tired of the bullshit. “Well, it's too late anyway she just went out on the back door,” Jey said as I smiled.

“That’s even better you guys can be alone. It’s almost midnight. Josh go ring in the new year with her,” I said as he gave me a hug and left to find Shantell.

---

Shantell’s POV

I sighed as Dangerously in Love by Beyonce began to play as I leaned back in one of the lounge chairs on the balcony closing my eyes.

It felt good to just enjoy the waves crashing on the shore and the beautiful music.

“Aye, ain’t no sleepin’ girl it’s almost midnight, and you owe me a dance,” I heard Jey’s excited voice say as I laughed standing up.

“Well, you shouldn’t throw such good parties and I wouldn’t be so sleepy,” I said as he gave me a hug as we began swaying to the music.

“Girl, you been popular tonight I thought I would never get you alone,” Jey said as I laughed. “Oh, stop it, you could have been asked me to dance but you had to entertain Taraji,” I said as he nodded.

“I’m just kiddin' Shan, plus I didn’t want to entertain her. That’s why she left so fast,” he said as I slightly pulled away from him.

“What I mean is I didn’t invite her, I don’t even know how she found out about the party or where I lived for that matter,” Jey said as I frowned at him.

“Well, if that’s true sounds like you need to be more alert of the stalker vibes,” I said putting my head back on his shoulder as he held me close.

“I ain’t worried about Taraji, she knows what the deal is,” Jey said as I slightly winced thinking back to that night in the club.

I had never told him that I saw them, and I take that secret to the grave.

Matter of fact she was the last thing I wanted to think about while I was in his arms.

Later on in my destiny

I see myself having your child

I see myself being your wife

And I see my whole future in your eyes

Thought of all my love for you

Sometimes make me wanna cry

Jey’s POV

I was content, Shantell was in my arms and we were together.. I looked up and smiled as I saw mistletoe hanging over us.

That’s why Trin was pushing me to come out here. That Little sneak set this up, messy ass.

I can say in this moment I’m thankful for her, and I ain’t gonna let the moment pass me by.

“Aye, look up,” I said as Shantell looked up and laughed as I smirked at her.

“This is Trin’s doing I take it,” she said shaking her head as I shrugged my shoulders gazing into her beautiful eyes.

“I think you right, but I can’t say I’m mad about it. I mean what’s an innocent kiss between best friends right?” I whispered as she blushed but nodded.

“Yea, what could it hurt. I mean it wouldn’t be awkward at all, we’re friends,” she whispered as we glanced inside the window hearing everyone counting down to the new year.

Every time I see your face

My heart smiles

Every time, it feels so good

It hurts sometimes

I felt myself losing my nerve. It had to happen now, I had to kiss her but first I had to take a memory of this moment.

10!

I had to remember how she looked in the moonlight, how her body was calling my name to caress and cherish her.

Created in this world to love,

to hold, to feel,

to breathe, to live you

Dangerously in love

I gently caressed Shantell’s face as our lips lightly grazed each other, both of us moaning at the feeling of our lips meeting in a earthshattering kiss.

It was like the world disappeared around us and everything felt right.

I am in love with you, you set me free

I can't do this thing called life without you here with me

'Cause I'm dangerously in love with you

“Happy New Year!!!!” I could faintly hear as I pulled Shantell closer, our tongues gently danced with each other as our kiss became more passionate. I felt her caressing my face pulling me closer.

Her moans making me want more of her in every way as I held her tight, almost afraid she would disappear but I knew I had to let her go.

'Cause I am in love with you, you set me free

I can't do this thing called life without you here with me

'Cause I'm dangerously in love with you

I'll never leave, just keep loving me

The way I love you, loving me

“Happy New Year Shantell,” I whispered against her lips as she smiled pulling away, staring shyly at me.

“Happy New Year Joshua,” she whispered gently wiping her lip gloss off of my lips as I smiled at her.

Yea, my ass was gone. Crazy deeply in love with this woman.

Shantell’s POV

I can’t believe we just kissed! The excitement in the house was nothing compared to the excitement I felt dancing in my chest as he pulled me close, and we continued to dance.

Dangerously in Love definitely had a new place in my heart and I would never look at the song the same ever again.

I'm in love with you,

I'm in love with you

I can not do

I cannot do anything without you in my life

“You know this is one of my favorite Beyonce songs. I swear I’m going to a concert one day, It’s on my bucket list,” I said smiling shyly at him as he spun me around.

I was trying to change the subject and hoped things wouldn’t get awkward between us.

That kiss had blown my mind and this song was speaking to my soul, it was truly how I felt about Jey.

“Favorite song huh, well that’s good to know and the song is tight. Who knows I may take you to a concert someday,” Jey said as we continued our dance.

I love you

Dangerously in love

We reluctantly pulled apart as I could see the questions in Jey’s eyes.

“We good right? No regrets?” Jey asked, as I smiled at him gently cutting him off, covering his lips with my finger.

“Not a single one, stop stressing,” I said reassuring him as Trin stuck her head out the door to check on us.

“Happy New Year ya'll! Come on in we bout to turn up for the new year,” she said as Jey pointed at her.

“Yo’ ass ain’t slick, we know what you did,” he laughed pointing at the mistletoe as she shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t know what you talkin’ bout,” she said closing the door with a knowing smirk before winking at me.

“I think we should go back inside,” I said as he sighed. “I know but it doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he said guiding me back inside.

“It will be fun, don’t I owe you some more dances,” I said as he perked up. “Hell yeah, and I plan to get all of ‘em,” he said as I blushed.

I think we would be ok; thank God the kiss didn’t make it weird. It was just an innocent kiss between friends and that was it…

-------

New Years Day

Shantell’s Condo

Shantell’s POV

“Baby, now you can’t keep on not livin’ your own life,” my grandmother said as I sighed. “Gram, it ain’t like that. I’m focused on trying to get my classes done so I can graduate. Romance can come later,” I said trying to make her understand.

“Sweetie, you can go on a date here and there. Enjoy yourself,” she said as I sat beside her bringing her a bowl. “Yes ma’am, I promise I will try,” I said with a small smile.

“Good because if it wasn’t for me, you would be done with college twice over by now. Probably well established in your career of choice and married,” she said as I frowned.

“Grammy that was my choice, I wanted to be there with you to take care of you. I don’t regret that, and neither should you,” I said as she sighed.

“I know baby but you’ve missed out on so much,” she whispered. “I haven’t missed anything Gram, what is for me will be, now let’s make this Mac and cheese,” I said trying to change the subject.

She was trying to get too deep on me and I had a great time last night at Jey’s party and I wanted that to carry over into today.

I missed cooking with her, and I just missed her being here all together. “Make sure that cheese is room temperature,” she instructed me as I graded the fresh cheese for her famous homemade mac & cheese.

“Yes, ma’am I remember, I always remember what you tell me,” I said honestly as she smiled sadly at me.

“Good my baby, I need you to always remember how much I love you,” she said as I frowned at her.

“Ok, I don’t like when you talk like that, it sounds like you tellin’ me goodbye and we ain’t doing that yet Gram,” I said looking at her.

“Baby, we all gotta leave here someday, but you right I ain’t leavin’ here yet. Least not till I know you gon’ be ok without me,” she said as I couldn’t stop my tears.

“Gram, I don’t want to think about that,” I cried as she grabbed my hands taking them in hers.

“Shan, I ain’t getting younger, but when that times comes I need you and your mama to let me go. I’m so tired baby,” she whispered as I nodded in understanding, but it broke my heart in two to even think about saying the words out loud.

I couldn’t even imagine being here on earth without her.

“I know Gram,” I cried as she pulled me into a hug. “Ya’ll gon’ be just fine my baby,” she whispered as I held her tight.

“Aye, Gram glad you back down here with us,” Jey said coming in the kitchen as I smiled wiping my tears. “Yea, I am enjoying the weather, kinda makes me want to move back,” she said as I got up and gave Jey a quick hug. “Aye, you ok?” Jey asked as I sighed.

“I’m good, I just need a minute. I’ll be back,” I said rushing off before he could stop me. The conversation had me tore up and I needed to regroup.

Jey’s POV

“Did I interrupt something important Gram? Do ya'll need me to come back later?” I asked as Shantell’s grandmother grabbed my hand. “Nah, baby I just was telling Shantell I wanted her to be happy,” she said smiling at me.

“We all want that Gram, she’s amazing,” I said as I could see her in deep thought.

“Josh, why ain’t you told my granddaughter you love her?” she asked as I smiled at her.

“Wow it’s that obvious huh?” I asked as she laughed. “Son, I knew that the first time I met you, so why ain’t you told her,” she asked as I tried to think of the best way to describe it.

“ I was tied down in a loveless marriage for years and now I’m trying to find myself, after years of living for somebody else,” I said pausing, looking into her eyes to see if she was judging me but I saw none so I continued.

“I really do love Shantell; I just know with everything I got goin’ on a relationship for me right now would be bad and I couldn’t live wit myself if I hurt her.

"That seems fair, and I agree with you," she said nodding her head in agreement.

"So, for now, we’re just friends and I think that’s best until I figure myself out,” I said lowering my head as she caressed my hand in a motherly way.

“Joshua, I’m not judging you son. I just wanted to know what the holdup was,” she said as I smiled at her.

“The hold up?” I asked as she laughed.

“Yes, the hold up because I know you two are going to have a beautiful life together,” she said as I felt my heart flutter at the thought of a life with Shantell.

“I hope so Gram it’s been hard to not just tell her but it ain’t fair to make her put her life on hold while I figure out mine,” I said as she nodded in understanding.

“It’s ok to take time to figure yourself out Josh, that’s how life is supposed to work. Some people who are hurt rush to move on and take that baggage with them and the next person they love suffers, it's not fair," she said as I digested what she was saying and really took it to heart.

"Honestly, you are doing the right thing and I’m proud of you,” she said as I gave her a hug.

I really needed to hear that from someone, I’m glad I took Shantell up on the invitation to come over for dinner.

“You always know what to say don’t you. Just a modern-day people whisperer,” I said as she laughed rubbing my back.

“I sure am, but you just take care of my baby Joshua when she finally does gives you her heart. I don’t wanna have to come back as a ghost and haunt you now,” she said laughing.

“I will Gram, she will always be safe wit me, and loved. I promise you, I'll always take care of her,” I reassured her as I felt her wet tears on my shoulder.

I knew she had been having conversations with Shan and her daughters about what she wanted them to do in case she became unable to make decisions for herself and I knew it was weighing heavy on them all.

I just hoped and prayed we have a couple more years with this amazing woman, she was a godsend.

I guess sometimes in life you gotta have the hard conversations and today, I can honestly say I felt a thousand times better talking to Grams about everything I was feeling.

“Now, just don’t make her wait too long. She can be just like me at times, impatient as hell,” she said as we both laughed.

---------

One Month later

Pensacola Oncology Associates

Shantell’s POV

“Doctor Randall please don’t play with me are you serious?” Joe asked looking at him in disbelief. “I’m serious Joe you are in remission,” he said as I screamed in excitement and relief.

“Oh, thank you, God,” Joe’s mom whispered as Joe put his hands over his face as we both reached over and hugged him.

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” Dr. Randall said leaving the room as Joe’s shoulders shook with emotion as he sobbed onto his mom’s shoulder holding her tight.

I tried to move away to get myself together and to give them a moment but Joe’s mom immediately grabbed my hand preventing me from moving away from them.

Our watery eyes met as she shook her head holding my hand tighter. “Joesph we’re here, let it out baby,” she soothed as he continued to sob.

He had beat it…Joe had beat cancer. I knew a weight had been lifted off of him as the trip to Samoa put a lot of things into perspective for him and I knew he was ready to face these new challenges head-on.

“Man, I gotta call Paul and tell him the news,” Joe said a few minutes later wiping his tears as he turned to me.

“Hey, not today you just got some good news. Let it soak in and spend some time with your family before you even start thinking about work. Work will be there, take time for you,” I said as he smiled and gave me a hug.

“Thank you for having my back sis,” he whispered as I nodded “You know I always got you,” I whispered. My brother was cancer free; it doesn’t get much better than that and I know he’s going to be back better than ever and get back everything he had to give up in order to go fight this battle.

Yea, the big dog was on his way back to the WWE and I couldn’t wait to watch him do what he loves again.

On the way back to my condo Joe had called Jey to give him the good news. Joe anxiously tapped his hands on the steering wheel as his phone connected to the car.

"Hello, Jey's phone," a familiar female voice said as I frowned at the radio as Joe looked at me in confusion.

"Aye, uh, can I speak to Jey," Joe said as I looked out the window trying to not let it bother me. "Um, who’s calling?" she asked as I rolled my eyes.

"Taraji I’m sure the caller ID either came up as Big Uce or Joe so put Jey on the phone or tell him to call us back," I said as she laughed.

"Hey, Shantell you know we miss you out here on the road girl. I’ve been keeping Jey company in a good way though since you’ve been home,” she said as I laughed.

“Well good for you, what do you want a cookie? I mean, I hope ya’ll are being safe in those storage closets. Watch out for the arena rats I hear they bite and carry rabies,” I said smartly as Joe held my hand as his mother snickered.

“It ain’t worth it Shan,” he whispered as I heard Taraji mumble something under her breath, but she wasn’t crazy enough to say it outloud.

“Look, tell Jey to call me back it’s important,” Joe said trying to get off the phone as his mom cut in. “Uh, sweetie, Tari,, Tanri, Tangerine, uh, whatever your name is put my nephew on the phone, this is family business,” she said as I smiled at her as she gave me a sly wink.

“Why you on my phone,” I heard Jey say as Taraji tried to cover her messiness up. “Jey it’s for you, it’s Joe and I figured it was important,” Taraji said as I rolled my eyes.

“What you even doin’ in our dressing room, let alone picking up my phone,” Jey said as I snickered hearing her trying to come up with an excuse as I heard a door slam.

“Jey, why you slammed the door in yo’ girl’s face. That’s not nice at all,” I said laughing as Jey growled.

"You messy Shantell, you know I ain’t wit dat girl," he whispered as I continued laughing.

"What’s up wit ya’ll and what did doc say?" Jey asked as I smiled at Joe.

“I’m back Uce, It’s in remission,” Joe said. “Yes sir! Let’s get it Uce!” he shouted as I shook my head so happy everything was falling into place. We had been in chaos for far too long.

“Ya’ll betta take care of my baby when he comes back out there Joshua,” Joe’s mom said as I imagined the smile on his face. “Auntie, you know we got Uce,” he said without missing a beat.

“I know baby, ya’ll have a good show and be safe," she said as I chimed in as well. “Have a good show Jey,” I said as Joe raised his eyebrows jokinly at me.

“Thanks, Shan, and good luck on new classes coming up,” he said as I smiled. “You keep up with my stuff better than me, but thank you,” I said as Joe laughed.

“Ya’ll two make me sick,” he whispered as I lightly punched him in the shoulder.

---

Monday Night Raw

Feb 25, 2019

Jey’s POV

“I’m in remission ya’ll,” Joe said as the crowd exploded as did everyone backstage watching in Gorilla. Man, it was good to have him back.

“Yes sir! Let’s go bear!” Shantell shouted smiling at Joe on the Tv as he talked to the fans.

I hadn’t really spent any alone time with Shantell since the day after our kiss on New Years. This new hectic schedule WWE had us on wasn’t helping.

When I did get a chance to get home, she was in Ohio visiting her grandmother. The other time we all went bowling, and everyone was there.

I had a good time don’t get me wrong, it’s just I can’t remember the last time I spent alone time with her.

I missed just us vibing, talking about life and falling asleep together without a care in the world.

That mind-blowing New Year’s Eve kiss still had a hold on my mind too.

I’ve hung out with Taraji a few times, but it wasn’t the same. She wasn’t Shantell, I know what the problem is and I can admit it.

“I gotta get ready ya’ll,” I said as Shantell stood up and gave me a hug. “Go kill it, Uce, you know we going to be watching,” she whispered as I enjoyed holding her in my arms again.

“Thanks, Shan,” I said finally finding my voice, hating to let her go. As I walked away to get ready for our segment, I couldn’t help but steal another glance at her before walking down by the interview set to go over things with Jimmy.

Shantell’s POV

“Hey, beautiful can I steal you for a second?” Tevin asked holding his hand out as Trin grinned at me. “Uh, yea sure,” I said taking his hand as we walked down by the interview station.

“So have you given any thought to what we talked about? he asked as I smiled at him.

“I told you; I wasn’t ready for a relationship Tevin. Look I enjoyed our date, but I have too much shit going on to be anybody’s girlfriend,” I said honestly as he sighed.

“I know you hung up on him, and he’s too dense to even know you like him,” he said as I looked at him strangely.

“What are you talking about? I asked trying to play dumb.

“Look you ain’t gotta talk about it 'cause it ain’t my business. But I know you like Jey, so to save my own feelings I’ll stop pressuring you to go out with me,” he said as I sighed in gratitude, I hope he didn’t catch it.

“Now I hope I can at least call you or text you some time as friends,” he said as I smiled at him.

“I would like that, I mean we are friends after all,” I said glad he wasn’t pushing the issue because I didn’t want to talk about Jey.

I also knew Tevin wasn’t a one-woman man either, Nattie had given me the scoop when she heard about our date so I had been avoiding his calls and texts trying not to lead him on.

I mean he was charming and could make me blush with his compliments but that was about it, I knew the real deal about his ass.

You ain’t shit.. Ugh, some men I swear.

Jey’s POV

“Does Shantell seem a lil different to you?” I asked as Jimmy scoffed at me like I was crazy.

“I think you paranoid Uce, Shantell ain’t acting different,” Jimmy said as I saw Shantell talking to Tevin and I felt my blood boil.

“I just feel somethin’ been off wit her, I don’t know Uce,” I said as Jimmy shook his head.

“Nah, Shan has just been busy with school, you know she got one more year left. Her classes are getting harder, I heard her and Trin talking bout it earlier,” Jimmy said as I nodded my head trying to focus on what he was saying but I caught out the corner of my eye Tevin rubbing Shantell’s arms as she blushed. What the fuck did he say to make her blush?

“What the fuck is this?” I hissed, pointing at them as Jimmy looked and shrugged his shoulders.

“Tevin took Shantell out on a date a couple weeks ago, I guess they hit it off,” Jimmy said as I wanted to throw up at the thought.

“What you mean took her out? Shantell too busy for all dat, especially with somebody like his ass,” I growled my fists clinched at my side.

“I think you jealous Uce, but that’s on you cause instead of asking her out you jumped into Taraji’s cookie jar,” Jimmy said as I tilted my head in his direction, frowning wanting to slap the fuck outta him.

“Aye, chill wit dat shit, that was a one-time thing, “I said defensively. “Yea, but you are hanging out wit her Uce, that shit is dangerous. Before long you gon’ be dating her,” he said as I growled.

“No, the fuck I ain’t, I’m just enjoying myself right now,” I said as Jimmy laughed.

“Well, seems like while you are enjoying yourself, Shantell should be able to enjoy herself. Hell, from the looks of it Tevin wants to help her enjoy herself, Jimmy said looking at them with a smirk.

“I’ll kill his ass first,” I hissed as Jimmy laughed at me. “All that’s happening is on yo' ass because you should have told her how you feel about her,” Jimmy said rubbing it in.

“Man gon’ with that shit Uce, we just friends,” I said as Jimmy rolled his eyes at me.

“Well look at the shit you caused friend,” Jimmy said sarcastically pointing at Shantell as Tevin caught her off guard with a kiss, pulling her to him, caressing her hips.

“That muthafucka, I’ll break his fuckin’ face. Who da the fuck he thinks he is?” I growled as Jimmy grabbed my arm stopping me from going over there to knock the fuck outta Tevin.

“Nah, let him sop her up and down, she just yo’ friend remember, Uce,” he said as I snatched away from him rubbing my hands over my face in frustration.

“Tevin, I said friends!” I heard Shantell exclaim against his lips as she broke the kiss prying his hands from around her waist.

“I’m sorry it’s just you’re so beautiful and I wondered what it would be like to kiss you,” Tevin said as Shantell rubbed her temples.

“Please don’t do that again, I ain’t that type of girl ok. Look, I don’t feel comfortable with people I don’t know in my space.” Shantell said as Tevin tried to grab her hand as she moved away.

“Shantell, I just think we could be good together if you give me a shot,” Tevin said as Shantell held her hand up preventing him from coming closer.

“Tevin, you’re a nice guy but I’m not interested in you that way. What you did made me feel very uncomfortable, so I think we just need to stay away from each other for a bit to let things cool down,” she said trying to let him down easy.

“Aye, that’s cool, no harm done. I really am sorry,” he said as Shantell gave him a small smile before going back over to sit with Trin. Tevin smiled and continued to watch Shantell for a few seconds before returning to his station for the show.

“Creepy little shit, I’ll fuckin’ kill him,” I muttered as Jimmy cut me off, “Aye, Shantell handled it, go walk it off. We at work, go get yourself together, we on in ten minutes,” Jimmy said as I reluctantly went the other way.

I know one thing Tevin better stay away from Shantell or we gon’ have a serious fuckin’ problem that I won’t mind solving. That motherfucka was gon’ come up missing, if he ever touched her again.

Taglist: @reci24 @southerngirl41 @vebner37 @jeyusos-girl

@melaninsugababy @romanreignkisser @bebesobrielo

@arination99 @2-muchsauce @bakugoumarianawrites

@empressdede @alyyaanna @christinabae @anonandwannakeepitthatway @venusesworld @jeyusosgirl @theninthwonder

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doe-eyed-fool · 5 months

Text

Prey | Chapter Five

Alastor x Fem!Reader

Your heart rate began to pick up. Maybe you were just tired, and your mind was playing tricks on you. Yeah. Yeah that had to have been it. It's not like there was anyone other than you and Alastor in the house.

That would be ridiculous, to think that. And it's not like Alastor would have someone here and no tell you. Why would he feel the need to do that? He wouldn't. Simple.

If that were the case, then what did you see just now?

You take a few steps away from the door and narrow your eyes, trying to see in the dark.

There was that feeling of unease again. You took a deep breath, and exhale shakily. There was no one else here. There was no need to be worrying like this.

You should just go back upstairs and back to bed. Alastor would come back eventually. Even though it worried you, you had a feeling he'd be fine.

Suddenly the lights were turned on.

You gasped sharply and turned around, you were met with Alastor standing in the doorway.

"Y/n...What are you doing up this late?" He asked, slightly shocked. "I...I heard some noises outside. And you weren't here." You explained. "I got worried about you." Your attention was suddenly caught by the sight of blood on Alastor's shirt cuffs and hands.

"What happened?" You asked, pointing it out. Alastor was silent for a moment before answering. "I had to take care of some things in that shed. I have a place set up not too far into those woods, for hunting. Brought some things down there for the next time I go hunting, and ended up cutting my hand." Before you could speak, he continued. "I'm fine. You should go back upstairs Y/n, I'll take care of this alright?"

"Are you sure?" You ask. "I don't mind to help you."

"Y/n. It's late, really, you should be sleeping. I'll take care of it." Alastor said, and despite his calm smile, he seemed a bit tense. You sigh. "Ok...Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Alastor watched as you made your way back up the stairs. Once he was sure you were gone, he sighed.

"Might as well turn in too."

The next day, Alastor offered to take you shopping. He insisted, saying now that you were a performer, you should look the part. You couldn't argue with that, and went along with him.

Mimzy had told you you'd be preforming soon, within the next week in fact. It so close by, and as the day came that you would finally preform in front of a real crowd, the more nervous you became. This wasn't like singing front of your parents. This wasn't like singing in front of Alastor and Mimzy.

You'd be singing for a live audience. And as exciting as that sounded, you couldn't help but overthink. What if you mess up somehow? Forget this lyrics, or stumble on stage, or just make a fool of yourself in front of all those people?

Alastor knew you were worried, he tried his best to reassure you and tell you you would do just fine. But his words could only do so much.

As you were in the dressing room, you started to notice Alastor placing clothes over the door from the other side, that weren't all clothes that you came here for. Some were just casual dresses and a few nice evening ones thrown in too. You raise an eyebrow before rolling your eyes.

"Alastor." You say, in a light scolding manner. "Yes?" Alastor innocently responded. "We came here for just a few dresses for my nights preforming. Why did you pick out so many others?" You ask.

"Why dear, of course you'd want to look your best outside of preforming." Alastor tells you. "The more you sing for folks, the more you will be recognized outside of the lounge. You can't wear just anything!"

You supposed your normal dresses weren't up to the standards of famous singers. What if one day you did get that far? Wearing old hand me down dresses, some that had to be sewn back together, wouldn't do your image any good. Of course, you would still keep those dresses, as they were given to you by your dear mother.

"Alright. But just a few. Please do not buy out this entire store, Alastor." You tell him before grabbing one of the dresses.

"Oh? But you'd look so good in everything here."

You were thankful there was a door hiding your embarrassment and hot face. You decided to ignore that. "I mean it, just a few." You say firmly. Alastor chuckles. "If you wish."

Tonight was a big night for you, your very first performance. You could hardly believe it, your heart was beating wildly in your chest as you stand backstage. You paced back and forth, trying to calm yourself. You kept telling yourself you'd be fine, but your nerves wouldn't listen.

"Y/n!"

You turn your head to see Alastor approaching you. "Alastor? What are you doing here?" You ask. You knew he'd be here to see you, but what was he doing back stage? Mimzy must have allowed him back here. "I'm here because I had a feeling you'd be a little jittery." Alastor tell you. You sigh and nod your head. "I am..."

"You shouldn't be, dear. You'll do just fine! I've heard you sing, you're a natural! And you most certainly look the part." You didn't doubt that last part. You wore a flashy flapper dress and matching arm gloves. Your hair and makeup were seemingly flawless. You barely looked like your old self, all dolled up.

"I still can't help but worry, Alastor. What if something goes wrong?" Alastor shakes his head with a chuckle. "Like what, my dear?" He asks. "Well, what if I trip on stage? Or, what if I forget the lyrics? Or my voice cracks?" You list. Alastor places his hand on your shoulder. "Y/n, none of that will happen. You are simply overthinking. I'll tell you what will happen when you go out there."

"You will dazzle the audience with your beauty, and then knock them all dead with that lovely voice of yours!"

Your face heated slightly at his words. "Alastor?" He hums in response. Suddenly your words were caught in your throat. You wanted so desperately to tell him how you felt, that you loved him so much, more than anything. And yet...

"Thank you."

You couldn't do it.

The song that the band was playing on stage had slowly came to an end, as the crowd applauded their performance. You were up next.

"Of course dear. Now, knock em' dead! I'll be right there in the crowd."

You give Alastor a weak smile before walking ahead, and onto the stage. The crowd clapped as you entered. You gave a small wave before walking up to the microphone. The crowd went quiet, and the music began to play.

Look at me, I'm as helpless as a kitten up a tree; And I feel like I'm clingin' to a cloud I can't understand I get misty, just holding your hand Walk my way

And a thousand violins begin to play Or it might be the sound of your hello That music I hear I get misty, the moment you're near Can't you see that you're leading me on?

You couldn't help but think of Alastor as you sang those words. He must have some sort of clue of what he does to your heart, when he speaks to you so sweet and kind. They way he makes you feel so important, so special.

Surely he knows. Doesn't he? But if he does, if he does know what he's doing, and he continues to do so...

Your eyes found Alastor in the crowd.

Then perhaps it's better you don't give into his game. If that's what this was.

And it's just what I want you to do Don't you notice how hopelessly I'm lost That's why I'm following you On my own

Would I wander through this wonderland alone Never knowing my right foot from my left My hat from my glove I'm too misty, and too much in love Too misty And too much In love

The sound of clapping filled your ears, and you take a step back from the mic with wide eyes. They liked it, they like your performance, they liked your singing, they liked you. A wide smile fell upon your face before bowing slightly. You waved your hand before walking off stage.

You couldn't believe it. Your first performance!

And it was a success!

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel

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youaintnothinbuta · 1 year

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First Kiss - Elvis

Summary: Your best friend, Elvis, was walking you home from having dinner at his house. When he gets you home, he realises your parents are out of town, and offers to stay so you’re not alone.

Pairing: Elvis x fem!reader

Word count: 906

Warnings: none/fluff. Probably typos/spelling errors/bad grammar that I’ve missed

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You and Elvis are close friends, you have known each other since middle school. You liked Elvis a lot, and he liked you even more, but he was your best friend. And through years of him and you constantly hanging around each others houses, your parents and his practically also were best friends. There was too much on the line for either of you to confess your feelings.

You and Elvis lived only three streets away from each other, you had come round to his family’s house for dinner, and he was walking you home afterwards, chatting about anything and everything that came to mind. The pair of you passed two of the boys who you went to school with, sitting on one of them’s car which was parked on the street.

“Fairy here sew that dress for ya, darling? Or is he lucky enough to take it off ya?” One of them called out to you, insulting Elvis through his friend’s wolf whistle. Elvis grabbed your hand, holding it to his chest. He had a very protective nature, over his family and you, especially you.

“You know, Charlie, maybe you’d be able to get a girl into that car if you didn’t holler at them like dogs.” Elvis shouted back as he walked you passed them.

“Why do they always gotta pick on me? I’ve never spoken to them.” You asked, once you were sure they were out of ear shot.

“They pick on ya, honey, cos they want ya to speak to them.” Elvis replied, letting go of your hand.

“What?”

“You know, you’re a pretty girl. They want your attention.”

“That’s no way to get a ladies attention!” You argued.

“I know that, honey, but not every guy does.” He continued, walking you to your front door. You just sighed.

“Ain’t your parents home?” He asked.

“No, papa had to go out of town for work and mama went with him. It’s just me for a few days.” You explained, unlocking your door.

“Should’ve told me, mama would rather you stay at ours than alone, y’know. You gonna be alright by yourself?” He asked.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll be okay.” You sighed, taking a step inside and flicking on the light.

“Goodnight, Elvis, thank your parents again for dinner for me.” You kissed him on the cheek and pulled him into a hug. This hug in particular lasted a lot longer than normal, you were holding him for as long as you could in hopes he’d realise that was your way of asking him to stay the night with you.

“I’m parkin’ here tonight aren’t I?” He asked, chuckling slightly.

“Well, if you insist.” You smiled, bringing him inside and locking the front door.

“Can I call mama, let her know your folks ain’t home?”

“‘Course.” You replied, Elvis heading to use your telephone, while you headed upstairs to get changed into something more comfortable for sleeping in.

“Mama said you should’ve told her, she’d don’t want you to feel like you can’t ask a favour.” Elvis spoke, walking into your bedroom.

“Oh I know, I just- I thought I’d be fine.”

“She told me to give you this, for her.” Elvis smiled, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“Give her one back for me, okay?” You smiled.

“I will. Got a pillow you can spare?” Elvis asked.

“I- yeah, why? How many you need?” You asked, puzzled.

“Uh, one.” Elvis chuckled, confused at your question.

“You already got two.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?” Your eyebrows furrowed, confused.

“Honey, is there a pillow I can take to sleep on the couch?”

“What’s wrong with the two you have in my bed?” You asked, surprised.

“Oh, I just thought I’d take the couch.”

“If you want, I won’t force ya, but I don’t bite.” You smiled at him.

“I don’t know…them teeth look real sharp.” He grabbed your jaw, gently squishing your face. You nipped at his finger, playfully.

“Hey, watch it!” One of his hands grabbed your wrist to pull you towards him, the other pointing at you to tell you off, as he scrunched his face.

“Or what?” You smiled.

“You testing me?” Elvis inched his face closer to yours, his eyes locked on yours.

Your voice changed to a whisper “Maybe I am.” You replied.

Without saying a word, Elvis closed the remaining distance between you, his lips gently brushing against yours. It was a tender and innocent kiss, yet strong, filled with years of unspoken feelings.

You melted into the moment, your hand instinctively finding its way to the back of Elvis's neck, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss. Eventually, you reluctantly pulled away, your breaths mingling in the quiet room. You stared into each other's eyes, a mixture of surprise, joy, and apprehension reflected in your gazes.

“I— I’ve w— wanted to do that for so long.” He admitted. You smiled at his stutter, the one that he develops whenever he’s really or nervous or excited.

“So have I.” Your lips moved, but no sound escaped them, your eyes dropping to the floor.

A smirk curled over his lips. “You go get your little night gown on, I’ll go lock up and meet you up here.” He gently pushed you by your lower back, towards your closet.

You complied eagerly, excited to see what may be unfolding between the two of you.

#austin butler #austinbutler #austin elvis imagine #austin!elvis x y/n #austin x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis #elvis x reader #elvis presley #elvis x you #elvis film #elvis imagine #elvis x y/n #elvis fans #elvis movie #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x y/n

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whositmcwhatsit · 11 months

Text

PART TWO

A/N: So, this has kind of unravelled... or unfolded... or collapsed like a... collapsing thing.

It's a silly, spooky, smutty love letter to Elvis, motels, small towns, ghosts, mysteries, and, erm, pine trees, with a ton of Elvis references and easter eggs that I think only I'm sad and nerdy enough to get.

Putting this out into the tumblr void in the hope that someone else might find some enjoyment from it too.

Catch up on Part 1

Everyone had congregated to eat in one of the other guys’ rooms. Elvis was reclined on the bed with his shoes on but wearing an entirely different outfit to the gray slacks and dark blue shirt he had been clad in while driving. Now he was all in black, but the captain’s hat was still in place.

Cheryl had heard girls outside, she was sure of it. She had even turned up the radio to drown out one particularly shiver-inducing shriek that could have only been made by someone overcome with emotion. From all the racket, she had been sure that she would see at least a hundred girls in a crowd outside. She surveyed the road and the trees beyond, trying to fashion a scenario that made sense.

After watching them devour their food like a pride of lions over a carcass, Cheryl understood why Elvis chose someone else’s room to eat in if he wanted all his guys around him. She picked at the overcooked meat and nibbled on some fries, but her stomach was too tense to allow much food inside. She had a strange feeling, like she had forgotten something or left it behind, but she couldn’t think what that would be, outside of her poor crumpled car by the side of the road.

Spreading out the paper napkin to cover her largely untouched meal, Cheryl brushed off her lap and fixed the group with a pleasant smile.

“Well, thank you so much for your hospitality. I should probably be heading back to my room, I’m going to have a long day tomorrow.”

“You can’t be going to bed yet!” Elvis teased. “It’s early! It’s not even little Billy’s bedtime yet!” The slight man he nodded towards pulled a face and made as if to swipe at Elvis, but was never in danger of making contact, especially after Elvis dodged with a raucous laugh.

“Goodnight,” Cheryl said quietly to a background of banter and manly tussling. She turned as she stepped out onto the sheltered walkway and gasped as someone brushed by her in a canvas raincoat.

“Oh, excuse m-” The walkway was empty in both directions.

Cheryl’s arm still tingled from where the stiff material of the coat had brushed against her skin, but her brain was struggling with the contradiction given by her eyes. She briefly considered turning and knocking on the room door again, but then she caught sight of neon behind the squat little motel office and made a new plan.

Forty minutes later, she was sitting at a table in the bar/restaurant nursing a martini and some barbecue wings. A couple of the patrons, men in rumpled shirts sitting at the bar, had given her a long look when she had walked in, but they had since gone back to their beers.

The waitress made conversation with her, saying that she was a nice change from her usual clientele and she got excited when Cheryl explained what she was doing in the area.

“Oh my grandma had the sight!” she whispered, glancing towards the bar before dipping onto the seat beside Cheryl. “And, you know, my folks said that when I was a little girl, I wouldn’t walk past one of the houses on our block? Just flat out refused to do it. I always said a strange man was staring at me, but there was never anyone there.”

Cheryl nodded and smiled, eager to keep her companion for a little longer so that she could stay in the warmth and light without worrying about the heavy-set gentlemen at the bar deciding that she needed company.

“How about here?” she asked, trying to look nonchalant as she blotted barbecue sauce from her lips with her napkin. “Did you ever see anything here? Or at the motel?”

The waitress scoffed as she lit a cigarette and waved it airily at the barman to let him know she was taking a break.

“Here? Nothing happens at the Cozy Pines. Just truckers and the odd tourists who didn’t stop in time in Portland but can’t quite make it to Seattle. The same family has even had the place as long as I’ve been alive. Old Bob Rochelle was manager for years until he had a hunting accident by the river. Still lives there though in the old honeymoon suite. His son Steve runs it all now.”

Cheryl thought about taking a walk over to the office and having a chat with Steve. She weighed up her curiosity about the figure in the raincoat and the screaming girls against the potential awkwardness of the conversation. She could try the reporter angle and pretend she was writing about local history for her college newspaper, that one usually worked without making people stare strangely at her. However, Steve was a businessman, a man whose trade relied on people looking at his establishment and seeing comfort and respite. He probably wasn’t going to be forthcoming about events traumatic enough to leave an echo.

“Say, did you hear that Elvis Presley is staying at the motel right now?” the waitress asked her. “I don’t know how true that is, but I heard it from Betty, whose husband is the manager. Didn’t sign in under his name, of course, but Steve thought he caught sight of him in the group. I’m going to head over after my shift and see if it’s true.”

“Elvis? Really?” Cheryl grimaced doubtfully. “Wouldn’t he stay in a fancy hotel in the city? I didn’t realize that times were so tough for him.”

The waitress ground out her cigarette and took out a compact and her lipstick from the little pocket in the front of her apron, reapplying her lipstick.

“Well, it’s probably bullhockey,” she agreed. “Still, I’m not taking the risk. My high school steady wouldn’t let me go back when Elvis did a show up this way. He was jealous, like all the boys.” She rolled her eyes and twisted the cap back on her lipstick. “I should have gone, the memories would’ve lasted longer than Teddy Davis, I’ll tell you that.”

Another couple of guys walked into the smoky, noisy interior of the bar as the waitress returned to work. It took Cheryl a little while to recognise them out of their coveralls. A lot of her work involved reading people, taking in the lines and details; she wasn’t much of a ‘big picture’ or whole face person.

Still, she was a woman alone in a bar and she sensed their interest, their attention on her as they strolled past her table. One of them took a table in the corner, while the other headed towards the phone, hung into a visored cubby beneath a stark bare light bulb.

A few minutes later, he was standing at her table.

“Hey, uh, Miss, the Boss has been looking for you. He wanted a word before you turned in.”

Cheryl smiled into the rim of her martini glass at the play pretend and the subterfuge. ‘The Boss’, ‘wanting a word’. She had half a mind to stay and order another drink, but she hadn’t been lying earlier: it was going to be a long day tomorrow if she intended to get her car at least roadworthy and travel the last few hours to Seattle.

“Of course,” she replied demurely, rising and leaving some rumpled bills on the table. She waved to the waitress on the way out, followed uncomfortably closely by Elvis’ guy.

Walking through the scrubby boundary between the restaurant parking lot and the motel, Cheryl paused as she took in the sheer number of automobiles now parked outside. There was a large mob of teenagers and even some older adults standing at the foot of the stairs to the second floor and a couple of cops looking bemused beside a tall, lean man in a striped shirt that Cheryl supposed was Steve the manager. They stopped her and Elvis’ friend/employee as they approached the steps.

“We’re staying here,” her escort informed the officers, shaking his key with the room number etched into it. Cheryl took her cue from him and fished her key from her purse. After examining the fob carefully as if he suspected her of sitting in the woods painstakingly whittling a forgery, the uniformed officer stood aside and waved her on.

The crowd started to chant as she climbed the steps and she wondered how she was ever going to get any sleep.

“You go to your room,” her charming companion instructed. “I’ll let him know you’re back.” She unlocked her door and gave his retreating back a sarcastic salute before stepping inside.

As she turned on the lamp, Cheryl had the strongest feeling that someone was waiting for her. If she had illuminated a figure sitting in the chair beside the dresser, she would not have been surprised, her sense of a presence was so strong, but the light thrown against the walls by the lamp just showed the spartan furniture and its shadows.

The interconnecting door opened again. Elvis tapped on it once he had opened it and caught sight of her. She had never known anyone to knock as a greeting instead of a request to enter.

“Come on in,” she said dryly, placing her purse on the nightstand and kicking off her shoes. He did, his vast aura engulfing the room and smothering the sense of that other presence she had felt. She raised her eyebrows as she registered the forcefully bland expression on his face and the way that he seemed to be grasping for words. He was annoyed.

“Goddamn weasel in the office ratted us out,” he snapped finally. He paused in the center of the room and encircled his wrist with his other hand, flexing his fingers. “Hate that underhanded shit. We’re customers just like everyone else, we deserve some damn privacy.” He shook his head and sighed. “Guess it don’t matter, they always find out anyway.”

“That must get annoying.” She perched on the edge of her bed. “A policeman down there tried to stop me from coming back to my room and I found that irritating enough.”

Elvis thought about it, his thick black lashes fluttering as he blinked. Cheryl felt a little fondness for the way that he seemed to consider her comment so carefully.

“No, uh, not annoying. Being sold out by that sonovabitch down there gets me heated, but people coming out… I mean they care enough to get in their cars and drive on over here in the cold and dark and everything… I appreciate that. It means something.”

“You’re grateful,” she put in, thinking back to their conversation in the motor home.

“Sure…” He knocked the side of his fist against his thigh, looking around her room. “Sure. Uh, you know, a couple of my guys saw you at the bar across the way. I tell ya, you gotta be more careful, honey. A good girl like you shouldn’t be going to places like that all alone. People might get the wrong idea.”

Cheryl’s eyebrows shot up and she had to rein in her laughter when she saw that he was serious. Deadly, earnestly serious.

“The wrong idea,” she parroted instead, glad that her voice didn’t quaver.

“Uh huh,” he shifted uncomfortably, looking somewhere near her right knee. “They might think you’re- That is-” He cleared his throat. “You just gotta be careful. You’re lucky you ran into little ole us, really.”

Cheryl’s mind was whirling with responses, most of them sarcastic and some of them resentful, but she discarded them all as he bit his lip and came to sit down next to her on the edge of her bed.

“Now don’t go getting yourself all worked up,” he murmured, fingers grazing her kneecap. “I ain’t saying nothing bad about you, baby. I know you’re a good girl-”

“I’m not that much of a good girl,” Cheryl interjected, putting her hand on one of his thighs. She felt the muscle tense and twitch against her palm.

Her hand flexed on his thigh as the other ran up his chest and grasped his collar. He wasn’t even touching her and yet her skin was tingling all over; all over. When his hand finally settled on her waist, his thumb kneading into the curve as the heat radiated through her cotton blouse, she let out a helpless moan. Then the lights started to flicker.

“W-w-well, there’s such a thing as too good,” he murmured, and they both laughed a little under their breath as they drew closer. His lips were soft, full and he used them skilfully like a tool he had mastered.

Most men, at least the ones that Cheryl had kissed, thought of kissing as a trailer for the upcoming feature: tight lips, plunging tongue, unrelenting pressure that she had to yield to.

Elvis’ kiss was gentle, not timid but playful and tender. His lips brushed against hers, nuzzling and massaging. Then he pulled back slightly, tilted his head and she caught the slightest hint of a smile as he parted his lips and his tongue teased its way into her mouth.

With her eyes squeezed shut and her mind otherwise engaged, Cheryl barely noticed, lost in a maelstrom of soft breath and tickling, warm pressure, but, as the bulbs grew brighter, they let out a loud buzzing like a swarm of angry bees. They pulled apart, looking around, and suddenly the lamp beside the bed gave off a loud pop as the bulb exploded and left them with an image seared on their retinas and a cluster of broken glass over the nightstand.

Cheryl couldn’t quite comprehend what had happened, but she sensed Elvis’ head turn from the lamp to her face and he nuzzled into the line of her throat, his nose cold against the skin behind her ear.

“Did I blow your bulb too, baby?” he rumbled in a deep bass, and they both broke into giggles. She enjoyed the way he laughed with his whole body, dragging her into it, his arms tight around her shoulders.

“What happened, do you think?” she asked, staring at the glass fragments as she finally calmed down.

“Power surge maybe?” He sounded like he was used to objects exploding and the rules of science and technology bending around him. He probably was. “The hell if I know.”

He let out a little boyish moan as he once again buried his face in her neck. The nerve that twitched at the feel of his hot breath went right down her spine and between her legs, which she was already clenching together.

“I should go out there,” he said, words almost entirely muffled against her throat.

“You know, the waitress told me that Elvis was staying at this motel,” she told him, angling her head as he nipped at her skin and then soothed it with a kiss. “I said that I didn’t realize he was that hard up.”

Another huff of a laugh right into the crook of her neck and she had to cross her legs, feeling far from being a good girl.

“Hard up,” he murmured under his breath as he rose, the emphasis he put on the words made her cheeks rapidly heat like that lightbulb. She tried to busy herself clearing up the mess on the table to hide her embarrassment.

“Hey Cheryl?” It was the softness of his voice, almost breathless, that made her look up as he turned into the doorway between their rooms.

“Yes?”

“Can you.. uh, see a spirit around me?”

Cheryl had seen that same look he was wearing countless times before on many other people, a cocktail of hope and fear, and, just like always, she tried not to disappoint.

“Well, um, let me see.” She squinted and focused on the empty space around him, letting his handsome face blur and fade with some regret.

“I can’t be sure,” she hedged, “but I’m picking up something, a strong feeling… love. You’ve lost someone you loved very much… No, someone who loved you very much…” She quickly let her eyes zoom in on his face, checking for the tiny tells, tension around the eyes, tightening of the mouth, and movement of the pupils.

This should have been easy, he was one of the most famous men in the world and every aspect of his life was publicized, but Cheryl had never been much of a fan of popular music. She had never even seen one of his movies.

“You don’t see nothing, do you.” His jaw muscle flexed as he turned away and she thought she glimpsed a sheen in his eyes, but he was blinking very rapidly. “I-I guess I knew you wouldn’t. I don’t feel-” He shot her a fast, rueful smile and crinkled his eyes. It was the smile of someone who was always careful not to make people uncomfortable with their emotions. More than the promise of money, this made her want to tell him comforting lies.

“I don’t always see what’s there, not straight away,” she said. “Especially if the spirit was very close to the person in life. They tend to cleave closer and blend with the aura of the person I’m reading, because they’re cut from the same cloth, so to speak.��

He nodded, that socially appeasing smile still faint on his lips, and she knew he didn’t believe her.

As Cheryl was scooping the last of the glass into the wastepaper basket, a communal shriek went up that signaled Elvis’ emergence from his room. Now that she had heard it, she realized that the screams she had heard earlier were not excited, not hysterical with joy and desire, they had been terrified.

“I heard you,” she said quietly into the stillness of the room. You have terrible timing, she thought very loudly in her head.

With a sigh, she jammed her aching feet back into her pumps and yanked on her jacket, peering through the net curtains at the window. It was an information gathering opportunity too good to pass up. Half the town was down there milling beneath the window, including cops who might be distracted enough by having to wrangle wailing women that they might answer her strange questions without getting too interested in her.

It sounded like a carnival as she stepped outside her door. There were car radios blaring the same Elvis songs, presumably the local radio station showing deference to their prestigious visitor. People were laughing and talking and rushing backwards and forwards like they were lining up for rides.

It took a moment for Cheryl to locate Elvis in the center of it. He seemed to have changed into his third outfit of the day before venturing out and was now accessorizing his captain’s hat with a light blue neckerchief. She found herself imagining untying it with her teeth and she flushed even though no one could have possibly known what she was thinking about.

Nearly all of Elvis’ guys were clustered around him in a knot, a tense and frowning wall of boys that could not have been more in contrast to the man they were encircling, who was grinning and laughing and glowing in the center of them. She supposed they were employed to do the worrying for him.

Hopping from the last step, Cheryl took a wide arc around the main action and scanned the faces. Finally, she sidled up to a little group of girls who were leaning against a car and giggling over a folded magazine.

“Hi,” she smiled and tried to look innocent. For some reason, she always had to make that effort, something about her natural resting face always made people suspicious. “Do you know what’s going on over there?”

“Elvis Presley!” one of the girls cried. “He’s stopped here, of all places, on his way up to Seattle for a movie!”

“Oh wow!” Cheryl marveled. She was putting on a voice, why was she putting on a voice?! “That’s wild! I love Elvis!”

“He’s really the most!” one of the girls agreed.

“I’m just so glad I was listening to the radio when they announced it,” said another. “Can you imagine if we had missed it?!”

“I’m just glad it’s happened now and not when old Mr Rochelle was in charge. My folks would’ve never let me come!”

Recognition pinged in Cheryl’s mind and she zoomed in on this girl, who was blithely kissing the scrawled autograph on her forearm.

“Why wouldn’t they have let you come?” She kicked herself for the intensity she heard in her voice, but luckily the other girls were too distracted to notice it.

“What? I’m not saying they’re true, just that people talked. They said that old Mr Rochelle was…” Even this girl seemed to demure suddenly, glancing around as if someone might overhear. “He was just creepy.”

“Because of the stories,” the girl replied absently. One of the others hissed:

“Jane!”

“Was?” Cheryl prompted, wondering how far she could push without drawing suspicion. “He’s still alive, right?”

“Yeah, but he can’t walk. Not after… what happened.”

“Jane, that was just an accident. You are such a storyteller! You should be careful that people don’t start telling stories about you!”

Seeing them descending into squabbling, Cheryl moved on in case they reconciled by uniting against the outsider who instigated everything. She tried a few more girls, but they were far too distracted by the object of their desire standing in the parking lot to put words together into sentences.

Finally, Cheryl caught sight of the waitress- She wished she had asked her name- and she wandered over, having to focus on making her steps seem casual and not rushed.

“Hi there!” she smiled. “Seems like the rumors were true!” Cheryl watched recognition flash in the woman’s eyes.

“Had to happen eventually!” she agreed.

“So, have you spoken to the great man himself?” she asked, feeling a little bad at the deception since the waitress had been so nice to her.

“Not yet. I’m biding my time, it’ll be curfew soon and the cops will chase the teenyboppers out of here. I don’t want to risk having my eyes clawed out before then!”

“Ha, yes, probably wise.” She shook her head as the waitress offered her a cigarette. “Are you from here originally?”

“Born and raised. Why? Can you see the hope draining out of my eyes?” Cheryl really liked the waitress.

“I was just wondering how much you know about the Rochelle family. You mentioned they’d run this place for a long time, and the girls over there were saying there were some stories about them?”

The waitress squinted across the parking lot. “Oh yeah, well, their mothers listen in to the party lines instead of watching television. You know how small towns are.”

“And no girls ever… disappeared or anything?” Cheryl wanted to reel the words back in as soon as they flopped out of her mouth and floundered in the dark, cold, damp air. The warmth rapidly cooled in the waitress’s eyes and Cheryl gave her an awkward, grimacing smile and edged away.

“Of course,” Cheryl murmured, though all she knew of small towns was what she glimpsed as she passed through them with her family when they were on the circuit.

“I know what the gossip says,” the waitress said shortly. “But Bob was always nothing but polite and kind to me. He gave me my first job as a maid at the motel back when I was in high school.”

That left only the police, but they all seemed very busy now that curfew had fallen and some kids were trying to defy it, lingering in the parking lot, trying to talk themselves out of having to leave. Cheryl slowly rotated, looking for a younger officer, maybe someone who looked like they had something to prove and would open up to someone willing to be impressed.

Cheryl’s eyes instead snagged on Elvis, who had glanced up from the crowd of people surrounding him, eyebrows raised inquiringly, almost as if she had called him. He flashed her a smile, not the irrepressible grin she had bathed in back in her room, but the crooked ‘Elvis’ smile that was almost his trademark. She realized she might well have never seen him in a movie or attended one of his shows, but she had certainly seen a performance now. His attention was drawn back to the older ladies who were taking their turn now that the teens had been forced back home, and she finally managed to blink.

“You should go on and head upstairs now. He’ll be done in a minute.” She flinched at the low voice to her left.

“Joe, right?” she asked of the man who had appeared at her side.

“He’ll be done in a minute,” he repeated in a flat tone.

“That’s nice,” she returned, turning away.

Cheryl’s mother always said that Cheryl’s biggest weakness was her stubbornness. And she was right, but Cheryl was obviously never going to admit that.

Likewise, she had just been about to head back upstairs to puzzle over this little mystery she had found herself wrapped up in, but now that Joe had told her that she had to, she had to force herself to stand in the cold, dark parking lot until Elvis and his gang went back upstairs. Those were the rules.

Cheryl made one last attempt to talk to one of the police officers, but after all the excitement of the evening they seemed to have got their fill of young women and coolly told her to be moving along. She risked a glance back and Elvis was still talking, flanked by adoring middle aged fans he had his arms around.

She rubbed her own goose-pimpled arms and swore under her breath. She was going back to her room because she was cold, she told herself, not because some lackey ordered her to. It didn’t make her feel any better as she stomped up the concrete steps and she kept her head high in case she looked down and saw them smirking at her. Ugh.

“Who are they to be telling me what to do,” she muttered, unlocking her door and switching on the overhead light. “I’m a grown woman, do they think-”

Tossing her jacket onto the chair, she looked up just as a girl with a swollen, tearstained face started to run at her, her face contorted by a soundless scream. Letting out a shriek, Cheryl collapsed back against the door and braced for impact, but it never came. She opened her eyes and took in the empty room.

“Stop doing that!” she snapped, trying to sound like her heart wasn’t positioned somewhere in her windpipe, racing a hundred miles an hour. “I’m trying, okay?!”

It wasn’t like people imagined, Cheryl didn’t even think it was much of a ‘gift’ as such. There were no silvery silhouettes standing in a line waiting patiently to pass on reassuring words to their loved ones on the earthly plane. And Cheryl wasn’t some mystical disk jockey taking messages and playing them out over the airwaves.

“This one goes out to Barbara from Rod: sorry for the fifty years of marital neglect, and my will is hidden under the floorboard beneath my easy chair in the den. Next up, ‘Earth Angel’ by The Penguins.”

If only! No, instead it was silent, sepia, mimed mirages and flashy, nausea-inducing replays of trauma and horror. Other times, it was voices that sounded like they were being played at half-speed while underwater in the next room. Her ‘gifts’ had never been intended for use as a career and the more she tried to pretend that she was a worker on a production line, cranking out the latest in comforting and reassuring products, the more they acted up, twisted and turned on her.

“God gave you this talent,” her great grandmother would tell her in the old tongue, refusing to speak the language of the cursed invaders. “Not PT Barnum, God.”

Unfortunately, God hadn’t given her any other talents or inclinations she could profit from, so she had been forced to disappoint Granny O’Donahoe, but then poor Granny had been disappointed from the moment she first breathed air in that little stone peat-roofed cottage back in the old country, that was nothing new.

Cheryl was still trying to shake the icy fear that she had walked into like a fog, or like a fog that had walked into her, and she didn’t hear the knock or register Elvis standing in the doorway at first. She tuned in halfway through his sentence, which was something about an autograph.

“Sorry?”

“I said, you went all the way down for an autograph, but you never came over, honey. You scared of me?”

She forced a weak smile. “No, I just didn’t have any paper… or a pen.”

“That’s never stopped me before, darlin’. Come on in here and I’ll show you.” He dipped his head, looking at her through his brows with sparkly eyes; his radiant smile half a second away from breaking out across his immaculately made up face. He was a goddamn movie star, standing in her motel room in the middle of a podunk town in Nowheresville. The screaming spirits were the least weird part of this whole situation.

She crossed the floor and stopped in front of him, still a little shaky. He seemed to see it, rubbing his hands slowly up and down her arms, soothing her even as he was leaning in to shake her up all over again with his soft lips.

The flat of his hands left the relatively platonic zone of her arms, sliding against her rib cage as he bent her backwards like they were in some romantic Hollywood epic. She gripped his shoulders for balance, feeling his palms travel the outline of her waist and hips before moving back to join in cupping her ass, tugging her against him.

When he drew back, leaving her gasping for air, all the blood rushed to her face and… other places. She could only stare at his lips, the curves and creases, as he said:

“I’d like you to come into my room. Will you do that, sweetheart?”

Cheryl’s heart gave a squeeze at the ‘sweetheart’, and the soft, gentle way he said it. That didn’t mean that she was going to make it easy for him though.

“Why can’t we stay in my room?” she asked. She noticed that he hadn’t ventured any further than the threshold. She wondered if he felt it too, that lingering miasma of terror and pain.

“I’m doing you a favor, honey, there’s faulty wiring in here or somethin’. You’re liable to get yourself fried if you stay in here.” He backed into his room. “No way, that ain’t how I’m going out, zapped by a thousand volts with my one-eyed peter hanging out.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to see that quote printed up on a nice poster in the office,” she returned.

The laughter burst out of him like his body couldn’t quite contain it and he dropped backwards onto his bed, laying spread eagle.

“You are too much, honey, get over here!” He propped himself up on his elbows and wiggled his legs invitingly.

Even as she was ambivalently drifting closer, he snorted again, thinking back on her words. She paused with her knee on the bed and struck what she hoped was a seductive pose, pulling the pins and combs from her hair. It gradually unlooped and fanned out across her shoulders.

A smile, absent and unforced, tugged at the corner of his mouth, even as it was falling open, his bottom lip glistening invitingly.

With her hair now loose and unencumbered, Cheryl’s fingers trembled a little as she lifted her hand to the lapels of her blouse and began to unfasten the tiny buttons. Yet again, Elvis seemed to sense her trepidation and shook his head slightly, giving her a little closed-mouth smile.

“Come sit down, honey,” he coaxed, patting the bed beside him. “Let’s get comfy and cozy.”

“As cozy as a pine tree,” they finished together. He winked and nodded.

“Exactly.”

She clambered onto the bed as gracefully as she could in her tight knee length skirt and sat beside him, tucking her feet beneath her.

“See,” he murmured, brushing her hair back over her shoulder. “Ain’t that better?” She was in no position to reply as he rained down warm, wet kisses on her face, snagging her mouth and tangling her tongue with his own.

With almost painful slowness, he cradled her across the shoulders and gradually let her descend against the pillows, even while his other hand was unbuttoning her blouse.

Cheryl shivered and tried to ground herself, exploring the shape of him with her hands, marveling at the heat that radiated through his clothes, the firm softness of his sides and the sharpness of his shoulders.

Awkwardly moving his arms around hers, he slipped her blouse off her shoulders and expertly unfastened her bra with a flick of his fingers, his twitching eyebrow and twinkling eyes almost requesting her awe. Instead, she rose slightly, bending at the waist, and entwined her arm around his neck, pulling him down onto her and hearing him moan softly, boyishly into her mouth.

It took almost all the restraint she had not to rub up against him like a bear with an itch, her core almost aching for the feeling of pressure, a satisfying answer to the throbbing between her legs. She knew, however, that her skirt was too tight to allow her to spread her legs, to entwine them around him as they longed to.

When he tugged her slightly onto her side so that he could get to the padded button at the back of her waistband, she started to unfasten his shirt, smiling slightly at the sight of the sparse hair curling against his chest. Unable to help herself, she leant forward and licked a strip from the middle of his sternum to the hollow of his throat, moaning as her tongue tingled from the salty taste. She finally got the chance to tug at one end of his neckerchief with her teeth, but all that served to do was tighten the knot and almost strangle him.

“Sorry! Sorry!” she whispered, as he paused in his task of tugging down her skirt to loosen the bind around his neck. He shook his head, his apple cheeks brimming as he fixed her with a boyish smile, and deftly tied the scarf around her bare throat, using the ends to pull her forward, crushing her mouth against his own. She reached over and grabbed the captain's hat by the brim, placing it on top of her head, letting it sit jauntily over one eye.

Elvis smoothed down his hair with his hands, grinning at her as she struck a pose and saluted. Finally, he grabbed the hat and frisbeed it onto the dresser with impressive accuracy.

“You want your autograph now?” he murmured, voice almost slurred. She gazed without comprehension into his heavy lidded eyes. In response, he drew back and she whined a little, making him huff a laugh as he tugged her up too, the both of them facing each other bare chested and flushed.

With tantalizing slowness, he traced his nail along the inside of her thigh, swirling and skating across the skin as he signed his name.

“There ya go, now you’re mine,” he murmured, smiling lazily with sleepy eyes.

“Uh uh.” She shook her head; he mirrored her and pouted

“No?”

“Just that leg,” she informed him, her lips somehow both tingling and numb. “Just that leg belongs to you.”

“Aw man, well, I can’t have that.” His long fingers flicked the top of her panties and she squeaked, but then he scrawled his ‘autograph’ in large letters across her stomach, before doing the same with her other leg.

“Now, see,” he hummed meditatively, “normally I give out a kiss with my autograph.”

“Oh, you do? Well, then you gotta be fair.”

“Yeah, gotta be,” he murmured, leaning in and missing her mouth altogether. Instead, his lips and the delicious scrape of his stubble grazed the velvety skin of her breast, dragging with delicious sharpness across to her aching, pebbling nipple.

When he looked up at her cheekily through his brows, his dark blue eyes murky against the shadow of his black eyebrows and his smudged mascara, she started seeing double; it was too much for her mind to comprehend. She wasn’t sure whether she was going to succumb to pleasure or unconsciousness.

He stuck out the tip of his tongue, painstakingly slowly extending it towards her pink nipple as she held her breath and started to see stars.

“Elvis, please,” she mouthed, her voice almost gone. When he still didn’t take that final step, she tugged on his hair at the nape of his neck.

“Ow, watch it!” His eyes flashed with genuine anger for a second and she panicked. Her sex-drunk brain was able only to think of simple solutions, so she petted his hair where she had pulled it, gradually increasing the territory of her hands to include his back and his shoulders and his chest. Yet even in her simplified state, she was surprised to see how he basked in the affection, the loving, tender light back glowing in his gaze.

Finally, he closed his lips around her areola, sucking her breast into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. She continued to stroke and rub her fingers into his scalp and along the lines of his neck and shoulders as he turned his attention to her other aching breast.

At the same time, one of his hands began to trail down from where they had both been pinning her hips hard to the mattress, like he had been afraid she would float away otherwise. He might have been right. She felt him slide a finger under the leg of her panty and pause, tracing along the line of her lower lips.

“Okay?” he murmured, his words damp and hot against her ear as his mouth had moved back towards her head, nipping at the flickering pulse in her throat and the soft line of her jaw. She nodded, exhaling loudly through her nose.

She felt his finger slide in deeper and her face throbbed as she felt how little resistance he was encountering. What must he think of her, dripping and clenching around his fingers so eagerly, so hungrily?! She tried to look away, craning her neck to try and bury her face in the pillow, but he grabbed her chin with his other hand and pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes still twinkling, but his expression otherwise as serious and real as she had seen all day.

His jaw was clenched and she could make out the sound of him almost grinding his teeth as he pressed his pout against hers like he was trying to control himself and manage the flow against the flood of affection he wanted to give.

He grunted softly and she heard the clink of his belt being unfastened and then felt the material of his pants rustling and brushing against her bare legs. She was impressed by how quickly and gracefully he had managed to whip them off and was about to tease him about it, when she discovered that Elvis did not wear any underwear.

Because she was human, Cheryl tilted her head, trying to get visual confirmation of what she could feel, the heavy, velvety length of him poking and prodding against her slick entrance as he adjusted his position over her. Instead, he lifted her leg behind the knee and pulled it tighter against him, like he wanted to feel the pressure of her around him. It meant that her bent legs were encasing him and blocking her own field of vision.

“So pretty,” he murmured, wiping her hair back from her face with a splayed hand and tickling her cheek and ear with his prickly stubble and lips. “And you feel so good.”

She smiled, wondering if he knew he was talking; there was kind of a mindless automaticity to it, like he was soothing a fretful, wild animal. Her laughter caught in her throat as the pressure increased and a rod of heat slid inside her.

Elvis froze between her legs, obviously feeling her discomfort in the tension of her muscles as they resisted him.

“Shhh, shhh,” he murmured, “It’s okay. Kiss me, baby, just kiss me.” He caught her mouth with his and for a moment, he was everywhere and it was too much. It was just too much.

Cheryl wanted to fight him off, to separate them to reassure herself that she could, that there would still be a her left after they were done. Then, her body relaxed and she found herself again, wrapping her legs around his hips, feeling the round curves of his ass against the backs of her calves as she crossed her legs at the ankles.

Again, she lapped at the line of his throat as he moved over her, nuzzling her nose into the curve of his shoulder, her mouth watering at the musk and the salt and the faint tang of a long-since applied cologne. She explored his body with her hands, enjoying the fact that he was solid and yet soft at the same time, it seemed to fit him somehow. He flinched and let out a muffled squeak as she traced her own autograph down the length of his side. It threw him off his rhythm, but when she whispered into his neck, ‘Now that part is mine.’, his only response was to nod and mumble:

“Okay.”

Regaining his pace, Elvis adjusted his hips, tilting them somehow and the heavy, warm feeling tingling below Cheryl’s belly began to unfurl, to radiate and to send out sparks. Her toes curled, the insoles of her feet tingled and at the deepest, warmest, fullest part of her, waves of pleasure began to ripple outwards with a rush that was almost painful, it felt so good. She couldn’t stop the moan from tearing from her throat, even though she was also trying to heave in a breath. Her thighs spasmed and clenched; She arched her back, pushing her breasts, already flushed and sensitive from his close attention, against the coarse hair of his chest. She could feel his chest shuddering against as he tried to suck in air.

Abruptly, roughly, he wrenched himself free from the grip of her arms and legs. More importantly, she gasped as he pulled out, taking with him the warm, heavy feeling of fullness from within her. She watched in bemusement as he stroked himself a handful of times, before wet warmth splatter onto the surface of her belly.

“Oh God,” he mumbled, his voice soft and high, utterly free from pretense.

For a minute or two, there was only the sound of their breathing as they struggled to fill their aching lungs. Then Elvis leant down and snatched up something from the floor, handing it to her for her to wipe her stomach. It was only afterwards that she realized it was her own blouse.

He pressed a hard kiss into her forehead, practically ramming her head into the pillow, and then he climbed off her and grabbed his robe from the chair by the dresser. Wrapping himself in the dark silk, he padded into the adjoining bathroom and she glimpsed his silhouette in the bright light and shiny tile, before he closed the door behind him.

Cheryl wondered if she was supposed to leave. Was that what all his other conquests did, the Hollywood starlets and the glamorous models? She could well imagine them wrapping themselves back up in their Parisian dresses and fur coats and sweeping out the door. Those types of women probably always knew the correct thing to do.

Cheryl, for whom this had been her first time in a bed and only her third time with a man, had not quite mastered the classy departure. In fact, she was still wallowing in her inferiority when the bathroom door opened again and Elvis clicked off the light. She wondered if he was disappointed to find her still there, clutching her ruined blouse to her chest and staring balefully at the tiled ceiling.

Elvis gave nothing away as he climbed back into bed, Cheryl felt the mattress shifting beneath her as he shuffled across to her. He plucked the blouse from her hands and tossed it onto the floor, then maneuvered her onto her side, pulling her back against his robe-clad front. She felt the weight of the blankets being tossed over her and he snuffled endearingly into the crook of her neck as he got comfortable.

“Mmm, the coziest pine tree in the forest,” he yawned, his minty breath telling her that he had even brushed his teeth in the bathroom, while she was laying naked, sticky and decidedly unfresh in his bed. “Goodnight, darlin’.”

Cheryl felt him peck the outside rim of her ear and had a frightening rush of tenderness for this stranger that felt more like danger than anything else she had felt, seen or heard that day. Spirits she could handle, ghostly apparitions in her bedroom were hardly uncommon; lightbulbs exploding right next to her was a little rarer, but caring about a boy was a worry. Caring about Elvis Presley was downright terrifying.

Once she was sure he was asleep and after she had stared in wonder at his profile and taken in the details of his straight nose and pillowy lips, the curve of his chin and the slope of his forehead. After all that, Cheryl slipped from his bed, gathering her discarded clothing to her chest and hurried back to her room. She didn’t bother turning on the light, not wanting to see if a distressed ghost was about to rush her. Instead, she made sure that the adjoining door was locked.

As she showered, under a trickling, tepid spray, she let her hands follow the pathways that his had taken, scratching at the warm beard rash across her chest, pressing against the slight ache above her pubic bone, her palms flat against her still blushing cheeks. She grinned secretly to herself, thinking about the cresting of that achey, pleasurable wave, her toes scrunching against the slick wet tiles at the memory.

Taglist: @deniseinmn, @vintageshanny, @be-my-ally, @missmaywemeetagain, @ellie-24, @peskybedtime, @thatbanditqueen , @lookingforrainbows

All of which shattered like a sheet of ice when she heard a shout- Elvis’ shout- loud and panicked- and something began pummeling furiously against the locked door.

TO BE CONTINUED (AGAIN) (SORRY!)

#elvis presley #hollywood elvis #60s elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #whositmcwhatsit #spooky #smutty #silly

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