#highways & heatstrokes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

smashboxgirl26 · 2 years

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strawberry jam

cowboy(ish)! bakugou katsuki x fem! reader summary: This had to count as one of the worst days in your entire life — stuck on the side of the road in the hot sun in the middle of nowhere with your old, stupid, broken down car and no cell service. At least there was a super hot cowboy who stopped to help. contains: FLUFFF OMG JUST FLUFF AND LOVE word count: 11.6k (somebody sedate me pls) masterlist a/n: this is for the loml, @katxn15, for her birthday that was like, a month ago, BUT I FINALLY FINISHED OKAY IM SORRY IK I SUCK (but also, apologies to my followers, i still feel like this writing isn't my best work - but we're kicking writer's block's ass one day at a time) also, here's the strawberry jam recipe

This had to count as one of the worst days in your entire life — stuck on the side of the road in the hot sun in the middle of nowhere with your old, stupid, broken down car and no cell service.

You’d just been trying to drive back home from college for spring break, but no — the universe had decided that it was too much to ask for and decided to dump you here, on the side of the backroad (because, of course, you thought that using the backroad would be quicker to avoid the usual highway traffic; and now there were no cars passing by that could help you) in the middle of some random field on a hot spring day.

You finally gave up trying to call someone — your roommate, your parents, a friend from your hometown — after about twenty minutes, when you realized that the phone stopped ringing completely and a low battery notification popped up.

Fucking hell.

Under the hot sun of the afternoon and without the AC, the car had started to reach its boiling point, leaving it unbearable to be stuck inside even if it offered the smallest amount of shade from the blinding light above. Your water bottle was all finished now too, so you were sure if you didn’t get out, you’d die of heat stroke.

The air was sticky when you finally cracked open the driver’s door, and paired with the direct sunlight overhead you could already feel yourself turn sweaty and breathless in the heat, and yet you pushed yourself out with your phone still in hand and outstretched, trying to catch at least one minute of cell service.

For a minute you thought one bar popped up, but it was gone as soon as it came and you were left with nothing as you flung it back into the car and closed the door out of frustration.

The stupid, fucking car just had to break down in the worst place possible, out in the middle of nowhere where no one was driving by.

“Fuck!” You finally let out in frustration, grasping at your hair and pulling at it as the panic set in.

You’d been sitting in your car for about thirty minutes now, and no one had driven by in all that time.

What if you were just stuck there until you died of heatstroke — okay that was an exaggeration, but at this rate you might have to be stuck on the side of the road for hours, you might even have to sleep in your car until morning.

Your back hurt just thinking about it.

At the very least you’d be extremely dehydrated, you could already feel the energy getting sucked out of you from the sun in reverse photosynthesis — and now that you thought about it you kinda had to pee.

Scratch that, you really had to pee.

There were just miles of fields ahead and behind you, there was nowhere to go unless you wanted to just go at it right there in a bush, but there was no way you were attempting that.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” You paced around your car trying to will your bladder to stop bothering you, hoping — or praying, more like — that someone would pass by and that they could just take you to their little nearby house.

These fields had to belong to somebody, with the wheat, or whatever it was, that was being grown in bulk, there had to be someone living out there somewhere who had a bathroom that you could use.

And after what felt like an hour of waiting under the sun (though it was only about ten minutes), your prayers were finally answered when you spotted a red, old, beat-up looking pick up truck from across the distance, and the sight was enough to propel you to start waving your arms and jump around to catch their attention.

Maybe it was a nice, old farmer who was just heading to his house nearby who’d be kind enough to let you use their bathroom and phone and to help you with your car.

And that’s who you were expecting to step out when it slowed to a stop — a nice, old, friendly dude.

Except it wasn’t.

Instead, you were faced with a tall, young (your age, it looked like actually), attractive guy wearing worn-out cowboy boots, faded jeans, an orange plaid shirt, and a cowboy hat with blonde strands peeking out from underneath. And not only was he not old or a farmer, he was also scowling at you like it was your fault he’d decided to stop.

That was enough for your open mouth to snap closed in an instant, and instead of explaining your situation to him and thanking him for stopping like you were planning on doing, you stood there frozen with wide eyes, watching as he stomped towards you like he was about to yell at you for something.

You cringed away from his figure with your eyes squeezed shut in response to his expected lecture, only for them to pop open when he spoke in a soft, grumbled tone instead.

“Yer car’s broken?”

“Huh?” you blinked up at him like you’d just been squirted in the face with water.

He rolled his eyes before they rested back onto your face with that same scowl. “Is yer car broken?” he asked louder.

“Oh, yeah” you quickly turned away to point at it as you babbled dumbly. “I think it’s the engine. It’s really old so it kinda sucks now.”

“Lemme take a look,” he walked around you towards the hood of your car — and you just stood awestruck as your mind finally registered that he wasn’t about to attack you, and that he was instead looking down at the wires and stupid things in the hood of your car like any other normal, nice person would have.

Why’d he look so angry then? A super bad case of resting bitch face?

You trailed after him, watching from the sidelines as he fiddled around with stuff you didn’t understand, biting the inside of your cheek when he reached up to wipe away some sweat that was dripping down his face before he continued working.

You know, now that you thought about it, he was actually super good looking. Under the small shade from the hood of the car, you could carve out his features: red, piercing eyes, clear skin, a strong jawline.

Your roommate would be so jealous if she found out some super hot cowboy helped you with your car. It was straight out of a romance book actually. If only you hadn’t thrown your phone back in the car out of anger, you could’ve snuck a picture of him and sent it to her when you finally got cell service.

You could already imagine the look on her face if you were able to get a picture of this guy, all screwed up in anger and—

“Engine’s gone,” the cowboy’s voice came back, and you were back to being an idiot.

“What?” you blinked up at him.

“S’not fixable. Engine’s dead,” he responded as he shut the hood. “Yer gonna need a ride then?”

“Yeah, uh actually,” you rubbed the back of your neck that was definitely gonna be sunburned, “I kinda have to use the bathroom. Do you live nearby, or—”

“Town’s about thirty minutes away, n’ I live past that.”

“Shit,” you mumbled under your breath while turning away.

What the fuck were you supposed to do now?

“Jus’ go here,” he gestured to the blowing wheat field around you. “No one’s gonna find out.”

“Um, no,” you stopped him. “I’m not gonna do that.”

“Why? Yer too civilized for that shit?”

“I never said that—”

“Ya cityfolk have never had to piss outside before?” he challenged with a raised eyebrow.

You knew he was just trying to rile you up for some odd reason, trying to challenge you into doing something stupid and dumb just for the hell of it. And yet, and this sounded so idiotic, you felt like he was trying to guage something about you, to test some limit you had to see how far he could push you, and for some goddamn reason you were letting him push you past it.

Or maybe it was just because you had to pee really bad and were getting to the point where you really didn’t care anymore.

Either way your patience was running thin.

“I literally never said anything about any of that,” you huffed. “Stop putting words in my mouth. But fucking fine!” you raised your arms up in despair. “I’ll go piss somewhere out here. Happy now?”

The cowboy’s face twisted into surprise for a split second, but you watched it switch back into a frown as he stared boredly.

“Don’t take long. I’ve got places to be,” you could almost hear the chuckle in his voice — he really wasn’t as attractive now that he’d opened his mouth.

Mr. not-so-attractive-anymore cowboy didn’t even help you when you had to pull your overstuffed suitcase out of your trunk and stick it in the back of his pickup.

“A little help?” you’d looked at him with your hands on your hips after trying to hoist it onto the back of his pickup truck and failing.

“I’m the one doing you a favor,” was what he replied with before he just went and sat in the driver's seat — in response you stuck a middle finger out to his back.

It took a couple of tries, but you finally got it up and secured it — though you could feel the sweat that’d built up from you trying to lift your heavy, overpacked suitcase out in the sun and humidity.

Damn you really wanted to kick yourself in the head for being stunned by his looks when you first saw him, his personality was actual garbage.

“Took ya long enough,” he grumbled when you swung the passenger door open, and you scoffed and rolled your eyes, making sure to close the door harsher than it needed to be in response.

You almost expected him to get angry at you for it, but at that point you didn’t care because you finally had AC. It was a sigh of relief after being stuck outside in the sweltering, afternoon sun for almost an hour, and you let yourself lean against the headrest as you finally let yourself breathe something other than the humid air outside that made you feel like you were choking on your own lungs.

The cowboy didn’t say anything after his initial comment, and you both instead drove down the road in silence as you stared out the window, watching the blur of fields and green that passed, with only the sound of the AC blasting to keep you both company.

You found yourself staring at him from the side after a while, perhaps out of boredom; and though you berated yourself once more for being so attracted to him because of how good he looked despite his personality, you couldn’t not thank him for helping you out in a dire situation.

“Thank you,” you found it in yourself to utter it somewhere besides your mind, and you noticed the slight tinge of a smile on his lips and the way his eyes slid over to you for a second.

“What was that?”

“You heard me the first time,” you groaned, resting your head in the palm of your hands while your elbow leaned on the door handle.

That elicited a small chuckle from the cowboy, and somehow you found yourself smiling in return.

“What am I supposed to do with my car?” you took advantage of the more normal mood. “I can’t just leave it on the side of the road.”

“I know someone who can deal with that in town, s’not really a problem.”

“Is there cell service there?” you instantly shot up. “I really have to tell my parents about what happened since they were expecting me to be home in the evening.”

“There’s nothin’ really in town, to be honest — most people use landlines ‘round here,” he shrugged. “Where I live’s got service though, I can bring you there.”

“...Thank you..” you found yourself choking out again. It had to be his stupidly handsome face, there was nothing else that could explain it.

You noticed the small twitching smile on his lips again before it disappeared into his resting bitch face, but he wasn’t cocky about your thanks this time.

“S’not a big deal,” he grumbled back.

“I’m Y/N.” You decided to make the leap before the car settled back into the sound of blasting AC.

“Katsuki,” he replied without missing a beat.

At least now you knew Mr. Cowboy’s name.

“Town’s up ahead,” Katsuki spoke after a minute or so, pointing towards the small sign posted at the side of the road that read Welcome to Auburn Springs — and you watched the deserted-looking fields transform into roads and small buildings through the window as Katsuki began slowing down to adhere to the changed speed limit.

It looked straight out of those old western movies your dad was obsessed with for some reason — with small, cramped and shabby buildings lining the main road, though they all seemed to be out of use with either boarded up doors and windows or peeling signs that read CLOSED.

These used to be businesses, you quickly realized, from the couple of handpainted, faded logos that were still stuck to a couple of windows; but they all had to be shut down for some reason. Perhaps the buildings were too old?

“This is town?” you turned to Katsuki, confused. How did people get anything done?

“Old town,” he grumbled back. “Main street’s up ahead.”

You nodded before turning back out the window, taking note of Katsuki turning right at the edge of the street to where you were met with a lot of buildings with very obviously newer construction (though it was still quite old fashioned — but it wasn’t historic).

Smaller, obviously Mom and Pop shops, lined the street — you caught a motel, a café, and a small grocery store — following the curve of the road as it went into a roundabout at what you guessed was the center of town. A towering fountain stood in the middle of the small square, a young man standing proudly in the middle of it, watching over all the stores for their protection.

Katsuki pulled past the roundabout into a small parking lot behind one of the buildings on the side, and quickly gestured for you to get out.

“I’ll take ya to the tow shop first,” he guided you back towards the stores, and you got a better view of the small town center and the shops that lined it, the small boxes of flowers that were laid out on the sidewalk next to the streetlamps, the single stoplight at the end of the road with a blinking yellow light — you guessed a lot of people didn’t come by.

“Ya comin’?”

You hadn’t realized you’d stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to stare.

Your head snapped back to where Katsuki was standing. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

He nodded slightly, gesturing to the shop behind him and for you to follow him in. When he opened the door to walk in, you half expected him to let the door fall closed behind him; you couldn’t really stop your eyes from widening when he held the door open for you, stunned in place until he glared at you and gestured for you to walk in.

You were immediately blasted with air again, coming from the large fan attached to the cracked ceiling, met with a small shop: an empty counter in the back, and a couple of comfy old armchairs chairs in the foreground with a round, wooden table in the middle.

“Ei!” Katsuki called out, and it startled you out of the calm silence that was present in the shop.

“One sec Katsuki I’m coming!” someone called out from somewhere in the back, maybe there was a hidden room back there.

Katsuki huffed before walking towards the counter while you followed behind him slowly and unsurely, guessing you were waiting for whoever Ei was.

“Sorry, Sorry I–” a tall, red-haired guy (who was also very attractive — was this where all the hot guys had gone?) appeared from some side door that you hadn’t noticed, pausing when he saw you standing there behind the counter as well. “...I was just eating lunch really quickly. I, uh, how can I help you ma’am?”

You opened your mouth to answer but Katsuki was already talking just as the words were forming in your head.

“Her car’s stuck on the side of the highway — the side road ya know? ‘Bout thirty minutes out of town — engine looked like it was busted.”

“Ei” stood there for a few seconds, blinking between you and Katsuki for what felt like hours before his eyes brightened and smiled at the both of you.

“That’s not a problem ma’am,” he nodded towards you. “I can grab it easily and bring it over to Sero’s across the street. He can fix it up for ya if it isn’t too messed up.”

“That would be a life saver, thank you,” you spoke before Katsuki could say anything. “How much do I owe you?”

Ei just let out a smile. “S’not a problem. Any friend of Katsuki’s is a friend of mine.”

“She’s not a friend,” you heard a pained grumble from beside you, and you rolled your eyes.

“No, I insist,” you pushed, turning back to Ei. “I can’t ask you to do something like that without paying you for it.”

Ei let out a small chuckle, with a look directed towards Katsuki that you couldn’t exactly make out, before replying. “Twen’y dollars is enough.”

You dug through the wallet that had been sitting in your back pocket, fishing out a fifty dollar bill instead and placing it on the counter.

Ei opened his mouth to ask about giving you change but you stopped him before he could speak.

“Keep it. You don’t have to charge me a heavily discounted price.”

A slow, toothy smile spread on his face once more, as he glanced back between both you and Katsuki before sliding the bill back over the counter to his side and tucking it to somewhere you couldn’t see it.

“I’ll let ya know tomorrow when I get the car over to Sero’s. Ya got a number that’s good to call?” he grabbed a notepad from his side of the counter and a pen, scribbling quickly as you rattled off your phone number.

“Great, I’ll give ya a call tomorrow ma’am,” he nodded his head slightly.

“Oh, you don’t need to call me that,” you stopped him. It felt weird being called something that made you feel so old. “Just Y/N’s fine.”

“Good to know,” he reached his hand out towards yours over the counter, eyes sliding over towards Katsuki in a way that you didn’t notice. “I’m Eijirou, Miss Y/N.”

You shook his hand with a smile — two super attractive dudes in one day? Your roommate was gonna be mad mad that she decided not to come back with you when you’d asked. “Nice to meet you Mr. Eijirou.”

“Likewise.”

Katsuki cleared his throat, and both you and Eijirou’s handshake broke apart in time for Katsuki to come close enough to grumble in your ear that you looked like you were going to pass out.

“Go get somethin’ from the café across the other side of the fountain,” he pointed out the window. “You’ll get heatstroke otherwise.”

You could barely get yourself to register how close he was standing next to you as he practically breathed down your neck with the smell of his woody, spicy aftershave swallowing you — so you nodded quickly, waved bye to both (and the cool air from the fan) before you pressed open the door and stepped out to shield them both from the view of your flushed face. You could practically feel the heat radiating off your cheeks as you power walked across the sidewalk, trying not to think about what’d just happened in less than a minute.

“Who was she?” Eijirou gave a cheeky smile as he leaned forward on the counter once the door closed behind you. “Ya finally got yourself a girl, man?”

“No one you fuckass,” Katsuki rolled his eyes as he sneered.

“She didn’t look like no one,” Kirishima’s smile widened.

“Jus’ found her on the side of the road and she needed help. Nothin’ more than that.”

“Yeah right Katsuki,” he let out a chuckle. “Yer not known to be the most helpful out there.”

“What’s that supposed t’mean?”

“I’ve known you since we were kids, ‘kay? Yer not exactly known to hold open doors for girls,” Eijirou rose his eyebrows in a smug look. “And I can’t blame ya. She’s pretty.”

“Whatever,” Katsuki crossed his arms over his chest as he turned away.

“Would’ya mind if I asked her out then?” Eijirou hit him with the ultimatum, a growing smirk on his face as he watched Katsuki’s shoulders tense in anger. “I already got her number too, I could ask her tomorrow when I call ‘bout her car. Maybe we could go down to the bar and get a couple drinks, I’ll invite her back—”

“Fine, ya little shit.” Katsuki whirled back around with a scowl imprinted into his features. That’s the reaction he was looking for. “She’s pretty or whatever, ‘kay? I just stopped ‘cause I saw her jumpin’ on the side of the road like a lunatic. But that doesn’t mean anythin’. I don’t like her or nothin’.”

“I never said anything about likin’ her,” Eijirou chuckled. “S’not a bad thing, man. It’s good that yer letting yerself out a lil’. And she seems like a nice person to do that with.”

“Gimme that fifty back,” Katsuki opened his palm over the counter. “Put it on my tab instead.”

Eijirou stuck it in his palm without hesitation, a small, knowing smirk resting over his face as he watched Katsuki stick into his back pocket.

Katsuki liked you.

As it turned out, Katsuki had gone to the city for a farmer’s market (as he did every Sunday and Tuesday), which meant he had to go to that little grocery store you’d noticed to sell off the couple extra crates of fruit he had sitting in the back of the truck. Even though you tried to tell him that you could help him carry at least one as thanks for giving you a ride, he told you that your “noodle arms” weren’t gonna be of any help to him, and carried all of them across the street while telling you to stay by the pickup truck with your iced tea.

It was winding down towards the evening, you realized, as you watched the wispy clouds overhead take their slow strides across the blue sky; the sun was definitely leaning towards the western hemisphere of the sky now, towards a string of mountains that laid in the distance.

Out of plain curiosity, you slipped your phone out of your pocket to see if there was any cell service available. Even a little bit would’ve been fine at that point, you just had to tell your parents what happened and that your trip was probably canceled.

But, as Katsuki had said, there was nothing, not even a single bar, and you only had about five percent of battery left. Great.

You shoved it back into your pocket without another thought, sipping from your iced tea while shielding your eyes from the sun.

“If ya drink like that yer gonna have to piss again.”

Mr. Cowboy Katsuki was back.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes and flipped him off before walking towards the passenger’s side.

He only barked out a laugh that startled you, leaving him in a lopsided smile that you couldn’t exactly understand — but you were both on the road before you knew it, passing by a couple of different farms that he pointed out because you couldn’t tell the difference between wheat and barley.

It wasn’t long until he pointed out that they’d passed his property line, and you watched the wheat fields turn into corn as Katsuki turned into a smaller, winding road up to a large house you could see from the distance.

“That’s the main house,” Katsuki knew to explain from your curious stare. “I don’t live there. It’s where my boss lives.”

“Oh. What’s your job then?”

“I’m a ranch hand, I help out with stuff ‘round the property. Takin’ of horses and cows n’ shit.”

Well that explained the cowboy outfit.

“I thought you said you were taking me to where you lived.”

“I do live here. I don’t live there, though,” he gestured towards the house specifically. “There’re smaller cabins scattered around the property — two others live on site too.”

“Ranch hands, you mean?”

He grumbled in agreement, and you nodded as you watched the house grow larger and larger until he’d parked the truck right in the middle of the driveway.

You followed him out of the car as he marched straight into the house as if he owned the place, taking hesitant steps until you closed the front door behind you to observe the cozy space that’d been made; a beautiful stone fireplace was what you noticed when you first walked in, as well as the two tufted, brown leather couches with, what looked like, a hand-quilted blanket tossed over the side, and a wooden coffee table in the center to complete the living room.

It made you want to curl up with a book and a cup of coffee just from the sight of it, but you were in some random person’s house you had to remind yourself as you followed where you saw Katsuki disappear to the kitchen (which was small, quaint — with a pretty bowl of fruit on the counter and a dark stained dining table already set with four places of silverware) and the back door where you could see him standing through the window talking to someone.

You quickly made your way outside, where Katsuki was talking to an older man with a large crate in his hands; he was thinned and tall, with blonde hair that stuck out from under the straw hat he was wearing and bright, cheerful blue eyes — with a small smile peeking from his lips when he noticed that you were standing there.

What did Katsuki say to him?

“Sorry to hear about yer car,” he approached you, a gentle tone in his voice. “I do hope it can be fixed tomorrow so you can go home. In the meantime, why don’t you stay in the guest bedroom upstairs?”

“Are you sure?” you blinked. You hadn’t even said anything to the dude and he was already offering to let you stay the night? “I don’t want to be any trouble, I mean there was a motel in town I could just stay–”

“Ya can’t even drive there by yerself,” Bakugou interrupted. “And I’m sure as hell not driving ya there.”

“It would be no trouble,” the man said as he walked up onto the porch. “I have more than enough food ready and the guest room’s always prepared.”

“Uh, then yes. Thank you, Mr…”

“Toshinori,” he nodded as he passed you to step inside. “Just Toshinori, no need for honorifics.”

“Thank you, Toshinori.”

“Of course. Katsuki, get ‘er suitcase outta the trunk, will ya? And show her where the guest bedroom is,” Toshinori said before disappearing into the kitchen, and you inwardly smirked when Katsuki grumbled under his breath about having to lug your heavy suitcase up the stairs yet showed you back through the house and up the stairs without saying anything to Toshinori.

He just pointed towards the room from across the hall, told you the bathroom was right across from it, and trudged back down the stairs with his heavy boot fall to go get your suitcase.

You wandered into the room, taking in the simple wooden bed frame and linen sheets, the matching dresser and nightstand set as well as the lacy curtains that were tied to the edges of the window to let the sun in.

It was pretty and pleasing and simple, and you sat down on the bed without thinking about it to grab your phone from its spot in your back pocket, only to be greeted by a (what seemed like) a thousand notifications from your parents and your roommate — which meant you’d finally gotten some cell service.

You called your mom first, of course — she would’ve killed you if you hadn’t — and she was almost crying when you told her that you were okay and that the car had just decided to be a piece of shit and break down in the worst place possible. She seemed hesitant to hang up once you’d finished, but she ran out of things to tell you about and finally had to let you go after about two minutes.

Your roommate though, you savored that conversation.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she screamed. “You just happen to be stuck where all the hot people are and you can’t even send me a picture of one of them?”

“It was only like, two hot guys but whatever.”

“Okay, okay, okay — what about the cowboy though? You said he was an asshole but he was hella good looking. Like how good looking, describe him.”

“Um, well he’s blonde, and tall,” you bit the inside of your cheek. “Super attractive. Probably toned too, I mean he does work on a farm all day, I’m sure he does a lot of heavy lifting.”

“Anything else?” she pressed. “Give me specifics here.”

“His eyes are red, like a really pretty, vibrant red — kinda like a strawberry, sorta. And he’s always kinda frowning. That’s why I was scared of him when I first saw him! I thought he was gonna come and yell at me, I swear–”

You were interrupted by knocking, where you whirled around to find Katsuki standing at your open door with your suitcase, his (what you guessed, at this point you only knew him for like, two hours) usual frown on his face but with a new look you hadn’t seen in his eyes.

Shit. He fucking heard me, right?

“Dinner’s in twen’y,” was all he said before he left — and you let out a sigh of relief in return at the lack of reaction.

By the time you’d washed your face and gotten downstairs, the table had already been joined by two other guys, who, you guessed, were the other ranch hands Katsuki was talking about earlier, along with an additional place setting at the end of the table. One of the guys was covered in freckles and had green hair, and the other had dual-colored red and white hair. Izuku, who you learned was the green-haired guy, asked you a million questions about college: what you majored in, what it was like living in the city, how it was to attend classes everyday — everything he could probably think about; in the meantime Shoto, Mr. red and white hair, sat quietly and nodded along to whatever Izuku said.

Surprisingly, Katsuki did the same as Shoto did, with the occasional grunt to something or a one-word answer when Toshinori told him about something that had to be done the next day, and it was surprising to see him act un-snarky compared to how he’d been earlier; you kinda wanted to kick him under the table just to see what he would do in response, but you didn’t want to be rude, especially not when his boss was nice enough to let you stay the night without even meeting you — for all he knew, you might rob the place and sneak away when no one was awake.

And honestly, it was nice to sit down and eat at a dinner table, it felt like you were at home when you were in highschool, where your mom did that thing where she made everyone go around the table and talk about one thing interesting they learned that day; it was so different from the nights you’d spent cooped up in the quiet library with a simple sandwich so you could get through your essay in time.

You were quick to offer help in cleaning up (since you’d been upstairs pacing around your room trying to convince yourself that Katsuki, in fact, hadn’t heard what you’d said about him and the weird glint in his eye was made up in your mind) since you’d been upstairs when they were setting the table, stacking all the plates silverware and bringing them over to the sink where Katsuki was already washing his.

“Just put ‘em down, I’ll do ‘em,” he pointed to the counter space next to the sink.

“I can help though,” you crossed your arms over your chest. He hadn’t even let you carry one crate when you were in town — he had to at least let you help here.

“Clean up the lefto’ers,” he rolled his eyes before going back to scrubbing a plate. “There’s smaller containers in that cabinet next to the fridge. Put ‘em in there and bring me the bigger dishes.”

“Aye Aye Captain.”

You heard him grumble under his breath and you laughed as you stuffed leftover carrots into a smaller tupperware container.

It was kinda funny, actually, how your perception of him had changed in the past couple hours: you’d gone from being scared of him, to thinking he was attractive, then finding out he was an asshole, and now you were stuck in this weird limbo of being friendly and awkward with him.

“Do you have a phone charger I could borrow?” you asked as you placed the larger dishes next to the sink. “My phone is about to die and I forgot to bring one.”

“No.”

“I won’t lose it or break it if that's what you’re thinking,” you stood next to him as finished up the dishes.

“Can’t,” was all he said as he used a towel to dry his hands.

“Why not?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t have one.”

That made you pause for a second, stuck in place as you watched him shuffle to the other side of the kitchen to do something.

“What do you mean you don’t have one?”

“I don’t have one,” he shrugged.

“What do you use to charge your phone then?”

“I have one but it won’t work on yers.”

“Why? What phone do you have?”

And damn, were you shocked when he pulled an old flip phone out of his back pocket to show you.

“Are you serious?” you blinked between him and the phone in his hand, watching as the scowl on his face deepened — and that was about all you could take before you burst into laughter. “How do you do anything on it? Can you even text on it or what?”

“Oh shaddup,” he grumbled as he shoved it into his back pocket, watching as you could barely hold yourself up as you laughed about him being a grandpa and the phone being from the 1990s.

The both of you’d actually forgotten that everyone else was still in the kitchen with you — until Midoriya told you that he had a phone charger you could borrow, leaving you and Katsuki standing there and staring at the rest of the kitchen with wide eyes until you could finally muster out a “yes” and a “thank you”.

Waking up the next morning without the sound of your phone alarm screaming at you to get up so you could lug yourself to class was refreshing, to say the least. It was almost strange to wake up naturally, to the sunlight streaming in through the window and the view of the green fields outside.

It was probably the most relaxed you’d felt in a while.

In fact you were so relaxed, that you stumbled down the stairs after just crawling out of bed in need of some coffee since you remembered that you’d noticed one when you were in the kitchen yesterday. It was already late morning, so you expected that everyone else would be out doing whatever their jobs were anyways, it wouldn’t matter what you looked like.

The wooden floors creaked underfoot as you stepped into the kitchen, beelining straight to the coffee pot that sat on the counter next to the fridge — a smile perking up when you realized there was already coffee in it, and it was still a good temperature.

But you almost spilled coffee all over yourself when someone cleared their throat, and you whirled around to find Katsuki sitting at the kitchen table with a mug in hand; a stupid smirk climbing up his face as he realized he’d scared you.

“Did sleeping beauty finally wake up?” he sipped his coffee, looking up at you through his eyebrows.

You only rolled your eyes as you took a sip from your own mug, though you pulled away after a second because it was way too bitter.

“Do you guys have any creamer or something?”

“Fridge,” he grumbled — eyes following as you opened it and grabbed a small glass container, pouring it into your coffee and putting it back before stirring it with a spoon and coming to sit at the table.

“What time do you wake up?” you asked after a moment. “I’m guessing you didn’t just get up and come here to grab coffee.”

“Around six,” he shrugged. “We try to do more work in the mornings so it’s not too hot.”

You just nodded as you went back to sipping on your coffee, watching from the windows as the fields swayed in response to the wind. Life seemed to move so much slower out here, which was so strange compared to the busy lifestyle you were used to.

And what felt even stranger was Katsuki sitting next to you, sipping on his coffee, without a care in the world — strangely domestic, even. You could find yourself imagining your future like this, in a small little kitchen being served pancakes and coffee as you stared out to the pretty, lush fields outside.

But, why were you thinking about this with Katsuki?

You turned to look at him discreetly, watching his throat move slowly as he sipped on his coffee, the steam still rising from the cup.

How was he able to drink it when it was so hot? Was he secretly burning his tongue and keeping quiet about it?

“Ei–Eijirou call you yet?” Katsuki (speak of the devil) asked suddenly, his voice harder and colder, a contrast to what it had been when he’d first called you out for sleeping in.

“I don’t think so,” you shrugged, sitting up straighter. “I haven’t checked my phone yet. But I’m pretty sure his phone call would’ve woken me up.”

“Let me know what happens,” he said as he pushed himself up from the table. “I can drive ya into town if it gets fixed.”

“I will,” was all you could say before he was already out on the porch, back door slamming behind him as you were left staring at the rest of the empty kitchen.

The sudden change in his behavior threw you off, leaving you with whiplash as you took another small sip of your coffee. You thought the both of you would continue being as friendly as you had been yesterday — if “friendly” could be defined as trying to get a rise out of the other, but to you it meant the same.

What’d happened in the few minutes that neither of you were talking?

You could only let out a sigh, pushing yourself up from the table to wash your mug in the sink with a small, unnoticed frown settling over your lips. And it, once more, led you towards the question: why were you thinking about Katsuki?

And you could try to justify it by saying it was because he was the only person you’d really talked to in the entire town — maybe the only person you really got to know (in a small way). Maybe it was just because he was attractive, and there was some sort of pull that always seemed to lead to wherever he was — you really weren’t sure.

Omygodddd…. I’m getting hung up over a guy I’ve barely met.

And with that, you headed upstairs to take a shower and clear your head.

You were, once again, reminded by the circumstances of your trip when you opened your suitcase to only find it stuffed with winter clothes — a byproduct of you still having a majority of your wardrobe stuck in your room at your parents house. You’d been planning on switching out your winter wardrobe with the summer clothes from home over your week spent there, since the sweaters and puffy jackets took up too much space for anything else to fit in your small, shared dorm closet.

The only thing that seemed to be appropriate for the weather outside was an oversized university t-shirt that you’d gotten at the beginning of the year that you’d promptly forgotten about, only found a couple days ago when you packed your whole wardrobe away — and a pair of jeans.

The shirt seemed to swallow you though, since the university had just given out large sizes for everyone (maybe because they expected everyone was gonna be a giant football player for some reason), so you tied it up into a somewhat crop top just so you wouldn’t drown in the cheap cotton.

If you weren’t able to go home this week and switch out your clothes, you might find yourself dying in the heat when you went back for classes next week. At least then you’d have an excuse to tell your parents to buy clothes instead of school supplies.

As you went through your suitcase to see if there was anything you could wear in hotter weather (maybe something had just slipped in), your phone started ringing.

You only assumed it was your mom, asking what an update was on the situation with your car, and answered it without looking at the screen.

When “Hey, it’s Eijirou,” came out instead of Hi honey, you had to pause just to register what was going on.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Eijirou,” you finally answered, sitting down on your bed. “Sorry, I’m going through my suitcase.”

“Nah yer all good. I wanted to tell you I brought yer car to Sero’s already. He said the engine looks real old. He’s gonna try and fix it, but he said there’s no promises. I’ll call ya later in the evening once he’s finished.”

“Damn, that was fast.”

“Yeah, well there’s not exactly a lotta business ‘round here. Only luck we have is if someone’s drivin’ and their car breaks down — like what happened with you.” You heard him chuckle from the other end of the phone before it settled into silence for a second or so. “How’s Katsuki treating ya?”

The topic startled you. Was he reading your mind or what? And, what exactly were you supposed to say when you knew they were probably friends of some sort? Katsuki called him Ei.

“Um, fine?” you sounded like you were unsure, which wasn’t what you were going for since you were just confused as to where it came from.

“Lemme know if he’s being an asshole — I’ll whack him upside the head for ya. He doesn’t exactly have a lotta experience being open with others.”

WHERE IS ALL THIS COMING FROM??

“I’ll, uh — I’ll keep that in mind,” you responded just as unsure, which was then met with an awkward silence that he finally ended with an “I’ll call ya later about the car” and a goodbye.

You hung up the phone feeling more confused about what was going on with Katsuki than you’d started, and just decided to ignore all of it to head downstairs and tell him about the situation with your car — he did say to tell him what happened when you got the call from Eijirou.

No one was in the kitchen when you stepped out to the back porch, making sure to close the door behind you. It was the first time you’d seen the rest of the farm in its openness, and not through a window.

A vegetable garden was what first caught your eyes, sitting in a small fenced area just next to the porch with neat little rows and small wooden signs labeling each crop. A faded red barn sat just a couple hundred feet past that, with a couple of windows you could see horses through as you walked past a separate patch of strawberries.

You spotted one of the cabins that Katsuki had been talking about earlier towards the left of it all: a neat little wood cabin with a small, clean porch, a welcome mat, and a rocking chair out front.

You found Katsuki standing at the side of the barn with a hose and a bucket, washing a foal who looked like they’d rather do anything than be there at that moment.

He didn’t say anything when he noticed you’d approached him, evidenced by the double take he’d given your figure before he went back to brushing the wriggling horse to make sure the soap cleansed them thoroughly.

“Eijirou called about the car.”

He didn’t look up as he responded. “And?”

“He said that Sero said the engine looked pretty old, so it might not be able to get fixed. But he’ll call later in the evening to let me know for sure.”

You heard him hum before he doused the foal with hose water.

“I’m not really sure what to do now,” you continued, leaning against the wall. “If the car isn’t fixable does that mean I’m stuck? I don’t wanna ask my parents to come out all the way here just to get me.”

“I’ve gotta go to the farmers market in the city again tomorrow,” Katsuki grumbled as he towel-dried the foal (who snuggled into his warmth). “I can jus’ take ya with me.”

“Are you sure?” you pressed. “I don’t want to be a burden and–”

“Stop talkin’ shit,” he rolled his eyes as he scooped the foal up and walked back into the barn with you following. “M’already going there — S’not a burden if I’m already headed there anyways. Jus’ lemme know what happens later and we’ll see.”

“Thank you,” you sighed, watching him place the foal back into the stable with its mother, where it rushed straight to nurse from her. “What’s their name?” you turned to Katsuki.

“The foal? Her name’s Lavender.”

“That’s pretty,” you hummed.

“Thought it was fitting for a spring baby,” he shrugged, rearranging some of the tack equipment to their proper places on the opposing wall.

You walked over to another horse, a pretty brown mare who had her head sticking out of her stall, trying to gauge your attention.

“You named them?”

“Some of ‘em, yeah,” he gestured to the pretty girl who was now nuzzling your hand to encourage you to keep running your fingers across her face. “She’s Iris.”

“I used to love naming horses,” you gave your full attention to the creature in front of you, scratching the sides of her ears as she bent down. You could feel Katsuki’s stare from the back of your head.

“My grandparents had horses,” you continued. “They lived not too far from the town I live in, so we’d try and visit them in the summer. They used to let me name the summer babies when we visited — one of them was Baby. She was a baby horse so I only thought it was proper to name her Baby. I was three, I think,” you chuckled. “Another one was Strawberry — because I had an obsession with strawberries when I was six.”

When you looked back at Katsuki, he was leaning against the opposing wall, staring at you — more like observing you, actually; like you were some animal in your natural habitat on some nature documentary.

“The first horse I ever named was this black mare when I was ten,” he spoke, hands dug into his sides with his arms crossed over his chest. “Called her Cherry.”

“That sounds like a hooker’s name,” you raised an eyebrow, watching as the soft expression he wore turned into a playful sneer.

“Hah? As if Baby and Strawberry aren’t hooker names.”

“Well, I mean, they could be,” you rolled your eyes. “But I feel like they’re not as obvious as Cherry.”

“Whatever,” he bit back, pushing himself off the wall. “Still a better name than Baby.”

“I was three!”

“Whatever you say,” you heard him chuckle as he strode out, hands shoved into his pocket with a cocky stance. “Now are ya gonna help me, or are ya just gonna stand around and stare?”

“Help you with what, exactly?” It was your turn to cross your arms over your chest with an eyebrow raised. “I thought I was too weak to help.”

“This is different.”

“What is it?”

“Strawberries.”

“...Strawberries?”

He didn’t answer you as he charged straight out of the barn, his stupid cowboy boots leaving you in the dust as you were forced to follow behind him without an answer.

Katsuki led you past the vegetable garden you saw earlier to the small patch of strawberries you’d noticed, though you didn’t get what he meant by saying he needed “help” with them. Picking them?

The cabin you’d noticed earlier lay nearby as well, under the cool shade of the grove of trees outlining the main house — and you stood, watching as Katsuki ran up the small steps of the porch to grab two baskets, before coming back to hand you one.

“That cabin’s yours?” you squinted in the sun, almost jealous that you weren’t wearing some bigass cowboy hat that would protect your eyes.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Strawberries are mine too,” he gestured towards the small, fenced area. “I grew ‘em myself for the market.”

“Really? That’s so cool,” you followed him, stepping over the fence. “So you sell them for yourself then?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “The old man said he doesn’t really care what we do since we’ve already helped him for so long.”

“Do you just sell them as plain strawberries — or do you make stuff out of them?”

“Jus’ jam, usually,” he grunted, leaning down as he began picking the fruits off the bushes and tossing them into his basket. “Don’t really get enough time to do much else.”

You hummed, leaning down at another bush as you plucked off a couple strawberries and placed them into the basket held in the crook of your elbow. They were so vibrantly red, like the color of expensive lipstick your roommate liked to wear out to a bar (under the guise that it’d attract rich, hot dudes) — like the color of Katsuki’s eyes, just as you’d noticed the night before.

You kind of wanted to eat all of them, though you weren’t sure that Katsuki would be happy about you gobbling down all of his strawberries. He’d probably tear you a new one. But, maybe a taste wouldn’t hurt.

You plucked a small one, as ripe and red as some of the larger ones you’d picked, just so it would be more discreet — a small smile creeping up when you saw that Katsuki was busy doing what he was doing; you were about to pop it into your mouth when you noticed a beetle making it’s journey through the leaves of the bush before it crawled into one of the branches and disappeared into the plant, and immediately decided against trying any of them before they were washed.

It wasn’t too long til your basket was filled to the brim, threatening to overflow from the way they were piled on top of each other; it was heavy enough that it required two hands to hold it.

Katsuki was just about finished too, finally standing up to his full height and wiping away the sweat that’d dripped down his forehead with the back of his forearm before his eyes settled on you. A small, sly smirk had made its way up to his lips, though you couldn’t understand why he was looking at you like that.

“What’s the look for?” you raised an eyebrow.

“You need both hands to hold the basket?” he snorted.

You wrinkled your nose as soon as you realized he was carrying his own with a single sturdy hand — almost making the stupid basket look as light as air, even though you knew how heavy it was since it was just as filled (if not more) as yours was.

“Well sorry Mr. I work on a farm and basically lift weights for a living, that I need two hands to hold the basket so I don’t fall on my ass,” you huffed, rolling your eyes when he let out his bark of a laugh.

“Jus’ gimme that,” he walked towards you, holding his other hand out.

“No. I can carry it on my own.” Even though my shoulders are killing me. But feminism!

“It looks like yer arms are about to pop off,” he took another step closer. “Give it.”

“Nope,” you answered, making sure to pop the p while rolling your feet back and forth between your toes and heels.

“Give me the basket, shitty woman.”

“You said I should be helping you,” you emphasized. “This is me helping you.”

“You can help me — by giving me the basket.”

“How is that helping you?”

“Ya can’t exactly do anything else if yer arms fall off,” he rolled his eyes, ignoring the offended look you gave him. “B’sides, I want ya to go grab the jars for me.”

His hand comes to grab the handle you’re gripping tightly, fingers accidentally brushing against yours as the smell of aftershave hits your nose, just as it had yesterday from how close you’re standing — it makes your stomach flutter from how warm and rough his hands are, just from that little glimpse you catch of him, and you almost drop the basket in the process.

“Wh-Where are they?” you don’t break the eye contact that’s connected you, his hand still over yours.

“M’house,” he rasps — and you swallow, thickly, letting the weight of the basket shift from your hands to his before he continues. “They’re on the counter.”

You nod slightly, finally breaking the heat of his stare and his fingers when you fully let go of the basket and turn to the small cabin, thankful for the cool shade of the trees when you step up the porch from how hot your face has become, like you’d gotten a sunburn.

The little welcome mat invites you in as you push open his front door; and though it feels strange walking into someone’s house like that, you don’t want to look back at Katsuki and give him the opportunity to notice your flushed face.

You settle on not being nosy as you make your way into his kitchen after wiping your shoes on the welcome mat, just taking note of his decor’s simplicity and the cleanliness of the small cabin. There was a cardboard box filled with jars sitting on the counter, just as he said there would be — which you grabbed easily before making your way outside.

Katsuki was still standing where he had been, feet rooted in the same position under the sun with flushed cheeks under his cowboy hat — an unreadable expression on his face before he turned and began trudging towards the house with you by his side. There was nothing besides the crunch of dirt underfoot and the birds you could hear from the trees. Your shoulders occasionally bumped due to your unfamiliarity with the uneven ground, but he never said anything — so you left it.

The kitchen was quiet too, when you both walked in, with only the sound of the fan whirring from the living room ceiling while you looked up to Katsuki, wondering what’d happened again.

Every time there was a moment between you, it disappeared to reveal Katsuki being harsher than he had been previously — and it was always in a matter of seconds. Sure, he hadn’t been welcoming when you met him, but he was still willing to stop at the side of the road to help a complete stranger; that could tell you enough about his character.

You watched from the kitchen table as he washed the strawberries in a large plastic bowl in the sink, rinsing them out a couple of times before he placed them between your seat at the table and the one next to you. As he turned away to get whatever else he needed, you stole a strawberry — popping it into your mouth, eyes widening from how good it was.

After plucking the stem off another, a firm hand stopped you from taking a bite out of it; and Katsuki gave you a sneer after stealing it and taking a bite while he sat in the seat next to you.

“Cut ‘em small,” he pushed a knife and a cutting board your way.

“What’re you doing then?” you raised your eyebrows, watching as he finished off the rest of the strawberry he’d stolen.

“Making sure ya do it correctly,” he leaned back in his chair.

“That’s not fair.”

“It is if yer a thief.”

“It was one.”

“I saw you take the first one,” he smirked, leaving you to roll your eyes before pulling the bowl closer and getting to work.

He hovered over you for the first five you did, commenting that you were cutting the strawberry cubes too big or too small (though you weren’t sure it mattered if they were ‘too’ small — didn’t you want it as small as possible for jam?). But when he finally approved of the size of the pieces, you built up a pace for yourself — slicing them long twice before cutting them three (or four, depending on the size of the strawberry) ways across — tossing them into a different bowl Katsuki’d provided when the cutting board became too full.

It didn’t take as long as you would have expected, your fingers stained red and ready to prune when you finished, before looking up to find Katsuki’s nodding head bobbing alongside you.

“Not too bad for a newbie,” he smirked, standing up and grabbing sugar.

After adding the amount he deemed necessary, he showed you how he got it ready to cook by mixing the sugar and strawberries with a spatula until the mixture was soupy and liquidy. He transferred it to a pot on the stove, still stirring it with the same spatula as he explained what to do.

“If it starts sticking, ya need to take it off and lower the heat,” was one of the pieces of advice he gave (the only one you retained) — but all you could do was watch the top of his cowboy hat bob up and down from your spot on the countertop, kicking your legs slightly as you watched him go through the motions of making strawberry jam.

It continued on for twenty minutes, of him explaining small things that you weren’t really listening to as he continued to stir it; until you watched the foam bubble down to reveal a shiny jam, darker than the color of the original strawberries.

“Put the kettle on,” he ordered, and you kicked your legs out as you pushed yourself off the counter.

You wandered to the other side of the kitchen to do as he asked, watching as he turned the gas off and let the pot start cooling down while stirring.

“What’s the water for?”

“So the jars don’t break,” he looked up. “The glass shatters if the temperature difference is too high.”

He had you pour the water into the jars to warm them up before he came to the table and started filling them up with a ladle stolen from a kitchen drawer, handing them to you to seal and cap them.

The process was quiet and concentrated, as you both went through the motions of filling up each jar and sealing them, until you were finished and left with about thirty jars.

It was when you finished that you realized how close you were sitting next to each other, shoulders almost touching, your pinky fingers basically intertwined; you could practically feel the heat radiating off of him. And when you turned to look at him, you noticed how close your faces were to each other — how you you could practically feel his breath fanning your face when he did the same, how his eyes seemed to roam your face the same way yours were doing to his — and how it felt like you were getting closer; an invisible string was drawing you together, bringing you both closer and closer as you stared at his lips.

“Oh — jam?”

All it took was an instant for the both of you to break eye contact, turning to stare at the back door. Shoto had stepped in, completely disregarding the both of you as he walked forward and picked up a jar. You barely realized when Katsuki’s expression had turned into a sneer and he’d stood up from the table without missing a beat.

“Beat it half n’ half.”

“But, it’s lunch,” Shoto stared at him blankly.

And just like that, it was like nothing had happened. Again.

Lunch consisted of peanut butter and jam sandwiches (because Katsuki had argued that you couldn’t refer to his jam as jelly — even though they were basically the same thing), and earned you the nickname “strawberry shortcake” when you dropped jam on your shirt.

(“Didn’t ya say you were obsessed with strawberries?” Katsuki smirked when you asked him where it came from.)

Eijirou called after lunch to let you know that the car wasn’t able to be fixed and that Sero wanted to buy it so he could use some of the parts. The news wasn’t that surprising, since your parents had bought it second hand as soon as you got your driver's license when you turned sixteen and that you were now a rising senior in college; and after a quick phone call to your parents to let them know about the situation, they agreed the best thing to do would be selling it so you could buy a new car.

You didn’t even notice when the sun began hanging low in the sky — and the afternoon turned to evening.

It was during dinner that you realized that you probably wouldn’t get a chance to see anyone ever again. Even if you hadn’t spent time with Shoto or Izuku — it was easy to see how nice and welcoming they were. It led to the four of you (Katsuki tagged along too) laying outside beside a small campfire and drinking beer, trading stories as if you’d known each other your entire life.

It was fun to learn about their lives in a small town: how everyone had practically known each other by the time they were five and all the shenanigans they would get up to. They told you about their other friends, the ones who’d moved away for bigger opportunities in bigger cities — and you noticed the way Katsuki’s face seemed to fall when the topic was brought up, even though he hid it by sipping on his beer quietly.

Both Shoto and Izuku eventually waved their goodbyes when they got up to go to bed, in the case that they wouldn’t be able to see in the morning if they were too busy, leaving you and Katsuki to quietly sip beer by the flames in comfortable silence.

“It’s weird to think that I won’t see you again,” you murmured after a while. The couple of beers you drank seemed to loosen the restraint your mind was holding on your mouth, and you stared up at the sky after a moment when he didn’t answer. “I won’t get the chance to be here again.”

Katsuki hummed in response, watching as you began tracing out constellations with your finger, muttering the names to yourself in the exact stupid way Deku used to. But, he wasn’t annoyed when you did it.

“Can I ask you something?” you turned to him suddenly, watching as he put his beer down.

“Shoot.”

“Why was your mood changing all day?”

“What d’you mean?” he blinked.

“Like, it felt like we were close at times — but then you’d seem angry again,” you looked back up at the sky and sighed before trailing off. “I just, I thought…”

“I heard you yest’rday.”

You snapped back to where Katsuki was staring at the ground.

“No one’s compared my eyes to strawberries before,” he commented. “Usually it’s rubies n’ other shit.”

“You heard?”

“M’pretty sure everyone heard shortcake,” he chuckled. “You were fuckin’ yappin’ at the top of yer lungs.”

“I was not!” you huffed. You could feel your face burning up as you huffed and turned away.

It remained silent for another minute or two before Katsuki spoke again.

“Back in highschool, I was with someone,” he started. “And I thought we were gonna stay like that — that she was gonna go away for college and come back so we could get married. I proposed to her, and she said no and left.” He looked back up and you watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “You– uh, I guess you reminded me of her a little.”

You could only blink in response to his confession, watching the light from the fire dance off his face as he stared almost wistfully off into the distance.

“I do think, that uh, yer…pretty, or whatever,” he coughed out. “But, it’s not permanent. Yer gonna go back tomorrow and eventually forget.”

It was silent again, the sound of the crackling fire remnant of his car’s old air conditioning.

“You don’t know that,” you finally spoke hesitantly, scooting across the log to where he was sitting.

He looked up at those words, his eyes scanning your face, your expressions, the way you’d placed yourself so easily next to him.

“And even if I don’t stay here, it’s not like there’s no way to contact you — or even see you again. You live a couple hours from me, and you come to farmer’s markets there,” you paused, gathering your thoughts before you looked back up at him and the soft look on his face. “Katsuki… whatever she did — I’m not her.”

Maybe the beer had a larger effect on you than you thought it did — you weren’t one to admit something like that as easily as you just did, but it was probably a combination of the hazy spell your mind was experiencing as well as the intoxicating atmosphere of the night. You could feel your heart jump in your chest as Katsuki just stared at you, his eyes flicking down ever so often until he moved himself closer to you, his hand hovering just above your cheek as you inhaled his scent once more.

“...may I kiss you?” he whispered.

You nodded slightly, shocked, before he’d pressed his lips up against yours in a sweet, chaste kiss. You could taste the beer on him as his hands rose and cupped your cheeks gently, his thumbs stroking the tops of your cheeks as yours tangled around his neck, playing with the back of his hair.

He took that as an invitation to pull you closer, pulling you up onto his lap with his arms wrapped around your waist and rubbing small strokes up the small of your back — melting into each other as sugar does into jam, slowly and gently and passionately through small touches and gazes.

When you finally pulled away for air, you could see the flush of his face as he stared up at the sky and panted, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Damn shortcake,” you heard the smirk in his voice — though it didn’t seem to be as cocky as you would’ve expected. “You know how to kiss.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you murmured into his chest, feeling the rumble as he let out a short chuckle.

“Nothin’,” he pulled away for a second, and you noticed him grabbing something from his jean pocket.

In the light of the fire, he showed you his beaten leather wallet, with cracks and scratches — pulling out a fifty dollar bill that he then handed to you.

“What’s this for?” you sat up, your head leaning against his shoulder.

“S’the money you gave Ei,” he flipped it over, revealing a phone number on the other side, before looking away in embarrassment. “I was gonna give it to ya tomorrow when I dropped ya off — Ei suggested it.”

You couldn’t help but let out a giggle to the red that was rising on his face, becoming even more flushed than he had been when he kissed you.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “Now I can call you on your ancient phone.”

“Yeah, well, now I can teach ya how to make strawberry shortcake.”

2K notes · View notes

whositmcwhatsit · 11 months

Text

Save Me

Written for the prompt: How are we going to solve this problem?

1976 Elvis in a leather coat for my beloved @vintageshanny This one got away from me, there's so much more to come!

@thatbanditqueen, @be-my-ally, @missmaywemeetagain, @ellie-24, @from-memphis-with-love, you are the best, funniest, kindest and most awesome people.

The air shimmered and glittered across the tarmac of the highway, promising oases, lights and civilisation, all of which would turn out to be mirages, as Cindy had discovered after walking five miles in the unrelenting searing wind wearing cowboy boots. The lukewarm can of coke she had been nursing the entire way was bone dry now and she had to admit that she was beginning to panic.

It made no sense, this highway was usually jam packed with people heading to and from LA for the weekend, but there had only been a smattering of traffic heading in either direction, and none of the hoity toity rich folks had apparently felt inclined to stop for a dusty, sweaty woman standing by the side of the road.

No one at home would even realise anything was amiss before Monday when she was supposed to be at work. They’d probably call home to find out why she was missing her shift, and her dad would think she was pulling a sick day and cover for her, not knowing… God, she was going to end up being eaten alive by buzzards. She squinted up at the sky, paranoid that she could see shadows circling overhead.

The cream car slid through the glimmering haze like it was heaven sent, its gold-plated grille and finishes adding to the surreal quality as it sped on, looking like it was going to rush past her in a fog of sand and exhaust fumes like all the others. It was heading in the wrong direction anyway, she told herself. Though there was no wrong direction away from death by overheating and scavengers.

The sound of tyres skidding in grit behind her made her turn and she saw the car had stopped a couple of hundred yards up the road. She paused, surprised, then broke into an anxious jog, almost sliding over in the roadside dust, her boot soles worn to slipperiness.

Coming to the driver’s window, she hesitated as, instead of the usual well to do middle aged couple or family, she came face to face with a car full of men. They were all wearing sunglasses and, frankly, unwelcoming expressions.

“Uh, thank you for stopping,” she mumbled, her tongue dry and oversized in her mouth. “I was starting to get worried.” The moustachioed man at the wheel just stared at her from behind dark brown lenses.

“Where you headed, honey?” asked a soft voice in the backseat. She frowned, shooting a last look at the blank faced driver before side-stepping to the window behind. She blinked rapidly, sure that what she saw was the result of dehydration, heatstroke and probably the remnants of the acid she had ingested at the beginning of road trip yesterday.

“Uh, well, I was heading back to LA,” she managed, nodding her head in the opposite direction, “but right now I’d settle for a ride to the nearest town with a phone.”

“You got car trouble?”

“In a way,” she shrugged, not wanting to go into her pathetic predicament with him, of all people. She didn’t miss the way that the other men in the car were looking at each other, sharing some sort of communication, and it made her question how desperate her situation really was. Maybe she could wait for the next car…

“You know, my guys here think that we should’ve driven right on by you. They said you could be dangerous like one of those Manson chicks. You know what a honeypot is, darlin’?” She could hear someone sniggering inside the car.

“I’m not anyone’s chick,” she retorted, rubbing sand out of her eye. “And definitely not that psycho’s. Look, thanks for stopping, but I’m fine.” She stomped off, heading back to where she had been standing.

Wrapping her hands around herself, she tried to force her heart to stop pounding. She would be fine, someone would come along, a nice family with a dog she could pet. It would all be fine.

She clenched her jaw as she heard a car door click shut and then heavy footsteps crunch towards her.

“Goddamn, it’s hot,” said Elvis Presley as he stopped at her side wearing a knee length leather coat fastened and belted in the California desert. He must’ve caught her look because he hiccupped a laugh and glanced down at himself. “Well, the car has air conditioning… A-a-and not all of us can look as good as you do in little shorts, honey.” She snorted in spite of herself, feeling her shoulders drop slightly.

“Look, I was only teasin’ before,” he said, adjusting his sunglasses and jutting his jaw pensively. “You’re a good girl, I know. I can tell that about you. I have a sense for these things.” She glanced over at the car and the two big, older guys who were leaning against it, arms crossed to show off their shoulder holsters. “And them- Well, they all do and think what I tell ‘em to, so…”

“I think I’ll be okay,” she murmured. “I’m probably better off waiting for a car going the other way anyway.”

“You’ll be waiting a while, sweetheart, Highway Patrol closed the road about twenty miles that way.”

Well, that explained that.

“Oh God,” she groaned, bending forward at the waist and just dropping like a rag doll until her hair poked into the top of her boots. “Why is this happening?! Wait, if the road’s closed, how come you’re here?”

Well, it’s closed for the public,” he answered, like this explained everything. At her questioning look, he pulled a wallet from the pocket of his coat and flashed her a shiny silver badge. “I ain’t the public.” Her eyebrows knitted tighter together and, after a moment, she reached out and pinched his arm.

“Ow!”

“Sorry, this is just really weird. I had to check.” He smiled, but it took him a minute and he was still rubbing his arm like she had stabbed him rather than given him a little pinch. “You are Elvis, right?”

“Last time I checked, but keep your voice down, honey, I’m travelling incognito.” He gave her a wink and she found herself smiling even though she didn’t know why. “Now, look, let’s get in the car before I melt like a goddamn snowman and we can figure out how to get you where you need to go on the way.”

“On the way to where?”

“My house in Palm Springs.”

As she was deliberating, another fancy car pulled up alongside the cream Cadillac station wagon and a smaller, lean man with a moustache hurried out of the driver’s seat to them.

“Hey, what’s going on, why are y’all by the side of the road?”

“Just rescuing, er- What’s your name, honey?”

“Cindy.”

“We were just rescuing Cindy here. This here’s my cousin, Billy. He might look like a marble-eyed sonovabitch, but-” The other man, Billy, gave Elvis’ arm a punch, but even Cindy could see that there was barely any force behind it, and certainly nowhere near what Elvis retaliated with. Both men burst into laughter, though Billy’s seemed pained.

“I can’t ride with you,” she tried one last time. “There isn’t any space for me, your car is full.”

“Huh, you’re right. How are we going to solve this problem? Hey, Sonny, Red!” The two big men looked over, straightening. “You guys ride in the Stutz with Ricky and David. Billy and Jo are coming with us.”

“Hey, E,” the dark haired one started in a disgruntled voice. Cindy didn’t miss the way that Elvis’s face snapped towards him and whatever expression he had put an end to the complaint.

“I’ve been defending myself from little girls for over twenty years, man, I’m sure I won’t have any problems here.” Lowering his voice, he finished so that only Cindy and probably Billy could hear, “Don’t exactly think I wanna defend myself anyhow.”

Travel arrangements made, Cindy followed Elvis’s broad back on her way back to the Cadillac. She questioned what she was doing, wondering what he was expecting from her in terms of gratitude. Then she shook her head. This was Elvis Presley, after all, he was probably dripping in beautiful models, he didn’t need to pick up damsels in distress by the side of the road to get lucky. He looked different to how she thought though, heavier for sure, that leather coat seemed uncomfortably tight, pale too, and his hair looked like it hadn’t been combed. Of course, she was in no position to judge since her skin had acquired a new layer of dirt and dust and her hair was ratty from sleeping in the van the night before.

The car was deliciously cool as promised, and she sighed as she climbed into the soft leather back seat. Elvis managed to summon up a cold bottle of Mountain Valley spring water and his mouth quirked at the corner as she moaned a little gulping it down.

Billy and a dark-haired woman, who was apparently his wife Jo, sat in the front seat, leaving them alone in the back. It was quiet at first. Cindy gripped the glass bottle in her hands, savouring the cool surface against her hot, sweaty skin. She shifted slightly on the seat, hoping that she wasn’t marking it with her grime. It figured that she would finally meet her first famous person looking her absolute worst.

“So, uh, what happened to your car?” Elvis asked, turning a little so that he was inclined towards her. Her eyes fell on the three- three- thick gold chains around his neck that rested in the dark hair on his chest, disappearing beneath the lapels of his leather coat and the light blue tracksuit jacket was wearing underneath. She blinked and looked back up at his face.

“Well, nothing. It’s still at home back in the city,” she replied. “I- uh. See, I was out in the desert with some friends… camping.” She nodded, yes, ‘camping’. “And there was a misunderstanding between me and one of my friends. She thought I was into her boyfriend and she got mad and- They left me behind.”

“But you weren’t?” he asked. She was looking into his eyes, partially hidden by the tinted lenses of his sunglasses, and asking herself why the hell she was laying out the events of her pathetic life to Elvis fucking Presley. She lifted her eyebrows questioningly. “You weren’t fooling around with your friend’s boyfriend?”

“No,” she demurred. “No, he’s an idiot.” Elvis grinned and nodded, which somehow made her smile right back without thinking about it.

“You’ve had yourself an awfully bad day, haven’t you, Cindy honey. I, myself, have not been having a great day either. Kinda lucky of us to cross paths out here in the middle of nowhere, don’t you think?”

“Why are you having a bad day?” she asked.

“Don’t matter now,” he replied, giving her hand a quick pat. “So, where d’you live in Los Angeles?”

It went on like that, him questioning her and Cindy answering before returning the question back to him. Sometimes he’d answer, but most of the time he would just ask another question. She felt like she was being interviewed for a job she hadn’t applied for.

As the car drew up to a low, white Spanish style house, she was beginning to wonder if she might want the job after all, whatever it was.

Billy opened the car door and Elvis climbed out with a grunt, reaching out a hand to her. It felt like climbing out of a carriage, only she was the regular Cinderella before the fairy godmother had shown up, all covered in dirt and ashes. His fingers curled around hers, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand, and he didn’t release it once she was by his side.

“So, here we are, little honeypot,” he said with an endearing smirk, “come on in.”

Stepping into the house was like walking into a meat locker after the heavy, dry heat of the afternoon. She wanted to pause and bask in it, but Elvis still had hold of her hand and he was not stopping. He gave her the tour, introducing her to the cook, while the other men arrived in the black car and there was a flurry of activity, cases and bags being deposited in the foyer and quickly whisked away.

The whole time, Elvis was walking around, talking about views and telling her a funny story about the time a photographer tried to climb the canyon to get pictures of him in the backyard and he and the guys scared the man so bad that he dropped his camera down a steep incline.

“Bought him another one, of course,” he shrugged with a small smile. “Still, taught him a lesson about being sneaky. Can’t stand sneaky sons of bitches, just come and ask me if you want a picture, don’t- don’t be all underhanded about it.” He stared off out the window at the rocky canyon beyond and she watched and waited, wondering if she was supposed to respond. Finally, he gave his head a little shake and flashed a grin at her, looking at her sideways. And that moment was over.

“So, I’ve been thinking, Cindy honey,” he began, leading her to an upright chair by the window and gesturing for her to sit down. “About you having a bad day and me… And it seems like there’s more to this than meets the eye, I think what we have here is a touch of divine intervention.”

Mouth open, she parsed his words, trying to understand what she was being told. She didn’t.

“Ain’t no way we should have met, you being a little girl pretty much as far from Beverly Hills as you can get and me not going nowhere else, but somehow we did meet. I saved you, and maybe… maybe you can s- you can help me… too.”

“Well, what do you need help with?” she asked. He grinned his famous lopsided smile, reminding her that she was sitting in front of a musical legend, one of the most famous men on the planet, just like he was a regular person.

“Well, for one thing, I don’t like being on my own much and- and my date for the weekend kinda flaked out.” He huffed an awkward, endearing laugh. “You think you might wanna hang around, honey?”

“Well, I have to be at work on Monday,” she said dubiously, feeling a pang at the way he was looking down at her, like she had power.

“I’ll get you to work on Monday,” he replied emphatically. “I can promise you that.”

“But I don’t even have any of my things,” she murmured, thinking out loud. “I left them all in the van and-”

“I’ll get you whatever you need.” He raised his eyebrows. “Anything else? C’mon, while we’re on a roll, throw something else at me, honey.” She laughed, giving his hand a squeeze that he returned.

“Can I use your phone?”

“You got a guy you need to call?” he asked flatly.

“Sorta,” she shrugged. “My father- he’s sick and I don’t like to make him worry about where I am.”

“My daddy’s been sick too,” he murmured, “but he’s getting better.”

There was such determination in his voice that she felt like she had to nod back like she was convinced.

He took her into his bedroom, which she knew must look out over the pool from the layout of the rest of the house, but the curtains were already pulled tightly closed and it felt, if possible, even colder in this room.

“You can make your call in here,” he said, squeezing her shoulder as she perched on the edge of the bed next to the phone. “No one’ll bother you. I’m just gonna make some arrangements, deal with some things. I’ll be back.”

She watched him leave, pulling the door closed behind him, and reflected on the weirdness of everything that had happened in the past few hours. She reached for the phone, but stopped.

As far as her dad knew, she was camping with some girls from work. It had been hard enough to reassure him that she would be okay doing this. If she called him now and said that not only had those girls ditched her in the middle of nowhere, but that she had been picked up by Elvis and whisked away to this house in Palms Springs… Well, he might have the stroke that was going to finish him off, the one they had been warding against for five years.

There was a tap at the door and it opened before she could respond, but it was not Elvis. Jo, the woman married to his cousin, was standing there looking at her like she was a naughty child who had refused to tidy her room.

“What size are you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Size. I’m guessing a…” Her eyes flicked up and down with disinterest. “A six?”

“Four on the bottom half,” Cindy returned. “Why-“

“Shoes? What shoe size are you?”

Baffled and feeling a little bit harried, Cindy gave her the information she asked for, wondering if the woman was lending her some clean clothes or if maybe Elvis Presley of the famed pelvis, who reduced women to screaming, creaming morons with just a jiggle of his leg, had a special wardrobe for all his conquests.

“Okay, so you need to shower,” the older woman continued, directing her to a bathroom away from the bedroom. “Everything you need is just in here. Make sure you wash your hair, clean your nails, brush your teeth. Everything. He likes girls to be clean.”

What do you say to that? Cindy wondered, staring blankly as Jo repeated the instructions like it was normal, like this was an every day occurrence. To be fair, it probably was.

“Today is so weird,” Cindy murmured to herself as she stepped into the bathroom, holding the large, white terrycloth robe Jo had shoved at her. There were toiletries in a big basket, all brand new and unopened. Shampoos, conditioners, soaps and lotions. A toothbrush still in its packaging, razor, and hairbrush and combs. It was like visiting a hotel, an expensive one too, not just a roadside motel.

Turning on the shower, she spotted a little pink transistor radio on the vanity and she switched it on. She couldn’t shower in silence, she needed something to drown out her singing other than the noisy spray. Warbling along to whatever the DJ played, she did everything she had been told, scrubbing and rubbing and rinsing over and over until she finally felt like she had exfoliated the desert from her skin and her mind.

Wrapping the oversized robe around herself, she sashayed like it was a fur coat and she was walking past the velvet ropes at Studio 54, hoping to catch Jagger’s eye. She opened the bathroom door and stumbled back with a muffled shriek when she found a man about her age standing outside. He had shaggy dark hair and was wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, which she appreciated.

“You done?” he asked, eyes sliding up her bare legs like a snail leaving a trail across a rock. “You brush your teeth? Clean your nails?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” she returned. “Yes, I brushed, I cleaned, I buffed myself to within an inch of my life! God!”

“All right,” he shot back. “I was just checking, because the Boss likes girls to be-”

“Clean, yes, I’ve got it.” She was starting to wonder whether it was Elvis or Howard Hughes who had picked her up.

The man directed her back to the living room, which was dim and shaded now with the curtains pulled across most of the windows against the late afternoon sun.

“Just wait here for a minute,” he said, closing the door behind him.

Cindy shifted from bare foot to bare foot, looking up at the low, sloping ceiling and the immaculately clean fireplace. Her eyes fell on the coffee table and the thick stack of bills placed neatly there.

She wandered over as if called, eyes bugging when she saw that the pile was topped with a hundred. If they were all hundreds, there had to be five thousand dollars there, easy. She thought about all the hospital bills that kept coming to the house, red overdue stamp looking like blood. Then she thought about her dad finding out that she had stolen money to pay them.

Sighing, she forced her feet away from the coffee table and stalked over to the couch, throwing herself down. Having a conscience could be a curse sometimes.

A little while later, the door opened and the man himself finally appeared. He was wearing a short sleeve light blue leisure suit and his hair looked washed and blow-dried. He didn’t look well, she decided, but she couldn’t decide why that thought had popped into her head.

“You look like you’re being eaten by a cloud,” he observed with a little smile, exhaling sharply as he dropped onto the couch beside her. He nudged his leg against her, but didn’t seem to notice, almost like he couldn’t keep still. “You get everything you need, honey? You speak to your father?”

“Yes, thank you,” she lied.

It was probably a good idea to make him think that people knew where she was, she decided. He leant back, stretching his arm like he had a twinge in his shoulder and then resting it along the back of the couch behind her. She had to work hard not to giggle. It was like being back in middle school.

“Why d’you wear sunglasses indoors?” she asked, wincing at her words as soon as she spoke them. “Sorry, that was rude-" He laughed softly and shook his head; his arm slid forward slightly against her shoulders.

“No, no, it’s fine, honey. I, er, have to wear ‘em because I got sensitive eyes. The light messes with ‘em sometimes, that’s all.”

“It’s not very bright in here,” she observed, glancing around at the lengthening shadows around the room.

“Yeah, well, I- I kinda need ‘em to see as well,” he admitted, ducking his head. “Can’t see as good as I used to.”

“Oh, well, that makes sense.” His smile widened and she felt his fingers wrap around the top of her arm.

Sitting so close to him felt like sitting with her side to the Sun, he gave off so much warmth and also a sense of power, like he was the centre of the whole galaxy. He was stroking her arm with his fingers, and she could feel the rough end of his rings scraping the folds in her sleeve and she shivered.

He smirked and, despite the fuller face and the beginnings of a double chin, she could see the man who had made her feel tickly in her tummy during the Saturday matinees her dad had taken her to. She was looking into his eyes through the pinkish tinted lenses of his glasses, their faces drawing closer, when there was a tap on the door.

“Goddamn it,” Elvis muttered under his breath, probably louder than he thought he was. “Come in!”

Billy appeared with several bags, seemingly oblivious or indifferent to Elvis’ obvious annoyance.

“Here ya are, got what you asked for,” he said, lifting the bags.

“Well, just leave it by the door,” Elvis snapped back. “And why the hell d’you leave this cash here? You just throwing my money away now, man?”

There was a weird note in the exchange that Cindy couldn’t quite figure out, but Billy gathered up the money without argument and left, dropping the bags by the door.

“Families, huh,” she observed as he huffed an exasperated sigh, his round stomach rapidly expanding and deflating. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.”

“Yeah, so they tell me,” he returned, shooting the door one last look of annoyance, before turning back to her. “You know, I just wanted to say thank you, Cindy honey.”

“For what?” Grabbing a ride? Taking a shower?

“For staying. It’s real nice of you."

Her mouth twisted into a baffled smile as her brain puzzled over whether she had heard him right. He did know who he was, right? He rubbed her arm over the terrycloth sleeve and twisted towards her. Her eyes dropped to his lips and, though they looked a little dry, they were plump and inviting. Soft too as he pressed them against hers.

It was a chaste, sweet kiss, he didn’t even try slip her any tongue. Cindy never made it to a dance in her sophomore year, but she imagined this was what it would have felt like. She reached up to hang her fingers from his neck, surprised again by how warm his skin was. The hair at the nape of his neck was damp with sweat and his breath wavered as she ran her thumbs curiously through his long sideburns. They felt soft and coarse at the same time and she couldn’t explain how.

“Yeah, I think someone or something has put you in my way for a reason,” he murmured, eyes fixed on her lips as he pulled back. She could feel herself begin to broil under his gaze. He pecked her lips again, pressing his weight against her. “Let’s get you ready, honey.”

Elvis led her around by the hand like she was a cross between a little child and a delicate princess. They went back into the kitchen where he told the cook that he wanted fried chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner, reminding her that the gravy wasn’t thick enough last time. He turned to Cindy, asking what she would like to eat.

“Aren't I having the same as you?” she asked. Asking for two different meals seemed… rude, somehow.

“Oh, honey, you don’t have-” He ducked his head and smiled. “She’ll have the same, just a regular size, okay?”

The woman smiled at Elvis the way that most women smiled at him, indulgently and kind of wistful. It was a strange thing to experience and then to see.

“Okay, lil honeypot, let’s get you dressed and ready for dinner,” he said, throwing a smile over his shoulder as he led her back to the bedroom.

The bags that Billy had left in the living room had been transported here and Elvis gestured to them. She peered inside, finding a white dress, underwear, and even shoes. She hadn’t worn so much white since her mom passed and her dad had turned everything grey with a misplaced sock when she was ten. She hesitated, wondering if he wanted her to put on a show, to earn them, but after she had waited for several minutes, he lifted a hand to the adjoining bathroom and motioned for her to go.

Wavering on the white, naturally, platformed heels, she tottered back into the bedroom where Elvis was reclined against the pillows reading a book. He glanced up over the top and gave an exaggerated double take.

“Who’s this sweet lil angel who’s showed up in my bedroom?” he asked, dropping the book on the bed and clambering up.

He crossed the room to her a little unsteadily and suddenly threw his arms around her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She could barely breathe with how close he was holding her, his arms pinning hers to her sides, his stomach tight against hers, constricting her air. Even his thighs were hard against hers. She didn’t know what to do, so she lifted her arm as much as she was able to stroke the small of his back.

“You look so pretty,” he murmured, when he finally drew back, running his thumb over her lips in concentration. “We’ll get Jo in here to do your make up and you’ll be perfect.”

“I can do my own make-up,” she insisted, not wanting to be a source of irritation for the other woman yet again.

“No, honey, Jo knows how to do it the way I like it,” he replied, biting on his lip before leaning forward and kissing her, lingering on her lips this time, almost as if he wanted to deepen the kiss but lost his nerve. “I want you to look like you’re all mine.”

He ducked his head down bashfully in the way that she was already getting accustomed to, but this time there seemed to be more of a purpose to it. She glanced down too when she felt him fumbling with her wrist and she watched as he fastened a thick, heavy gold ID bracelet around it. On the front, Elvis was spelled out in large diamonds.

“There,” he mumbled, sounding self-satisfied. “Now everyone will know you’re mine.”

She didn’t know how to respond to this, not in a way that didn’t hurt his feelings, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. No, she was already feeling an overwhelming need to protect him, this much older, richer, more powerful man.

Jo didn’t really speak to her as she did her make up. Cindy could barely open her eyes with the weight of the eyeliner and mascara they had been coated in. She barely recognised the woman she saw staring back at her in the mirror, especially not when she lifted her arm to peer at the bracelet. Such a weird day.

The table was full of men at dinner, with only Jo and Cindy adding some much-needed female companionship. Elvis and the other men laughed and chatted through the meal, arguing and guffawing over old stories; stories that always seemed to feature Elvis doing something insane, dangerous and/or reckless and somehow getting away with it. He grinned at her at every conclusion, looking pleased with himself and she tried her best to look impressed and amused.

Cindy understood what Elvis had meant when he instructed the cook to make her meal regular-sized. He and the rest of the men devoured prodigious amounts of food and it felt like dinner went on for hours waiting for them to finish.

As soon as she put down her knife and fork, Elvis reached over and clasped her hand with his, maintaining that hold even as he was eating and talking to everyone around her. It was like sitting with a spotlight on you, seen but unseen, valued but ignored.

After dinner, Elvis led her over to the piano. A couple of the guys, one of the large ones with all the guns, and a small one, picked up guitars and perched on a footstool and the sofa around him. He insisted, though there was barely enough room, that she sat next to him on the piano stool. She leant into his side, trying to maintain her balance.

“What d’you wanna hear us sing, Cindy honey?” he asked, like she would be fine with that, like she would casually accept Elvis Presley asking for requests.

“Lawdy Miss Clawdy?” she asked. It was one of two Elvis songs her father had played her religiously on a Saturday afternoon when they needed to jump around and use up some energy.

“Aw, that’s so damn old,” he remarked. “Can’t you think of nothing from this century?” He hiccupped a small laugh, which his guys echoed far louder, but she could sense that she had upset or offended him somehow. Probably by making him feel that only his old songs were the best, she guessed. She had hurt his feelings.

“You should sing what you want to sing,” she said quickly, rubbing his jiggling knee. “Anything you sing will blow me away.”

The smaller guy with the guitar suggested ‘Love is a Many Splendored Thing’, but before he had even finished his sentence, Elvis was pounding the keys of the piano in the very familiar introduction to ‘Lawdy Miss Clawdy’.

Everyone who had ever listened to an Elvis record always felt like he was singing directly to them. That was part of his magic and charm, but Cindy now knew that that feeling was nothing compared to knowing that he was singing directly to you. Her face was throbbing with heat as the blood rushed there. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, clasping them in her lap like she had to hold in her vital organs or she would die. He frowned over the piano as he sang, but every now and again, shot her a look from the side of his eye, his cheekbones round and prominent as he held back a smile.

As the last chords of the piano faded out, he cleared his throat, making fun of how much higher his voice used to be. Cindy clapped, ignoring the eyerolls and looks of derision that some of the men were throwing her. She had never been able to get to a concert. They usually sold out in hours and there was no way she could skip work to queue overnight and all day. So this was probably the closest she was ever going to get to seeing Elvis live, and she was making the most of it.

“Thank you, honey,” he mumbled, angling his face so that he could kiss her cheek. He grabbed her hand that was still clapping and brought it to his lips, giving her fingers a soft peck also.

Forgetting all the eyes, the uncomfortable shoes, the skimpy dress that made her shiver in the air conditioning, and the mask of make-up she was wearing, Cindy ducked forward and kissed him. She almost missed completely, catching only the corner of his mouth, but he rescued her for the second time that day, wrapping his arms around her, hot palms against her back and turning his head, sliding his tongue in to brush against hers. Maybe he was right, they could both save each other.

#elvis presley #70s elvis #big daddy elvis #elvis fanfic #1970s elvis #elvis x oc #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #writing prompt game

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man-moth-hook-hand · 2 months

Text

Welcome to my Nightmare Ch. 1

Here is the first chapter of the rewrite!

Masterlist

Chapter One: Santa Carla

Dry heat. The only two words that could describe the hellscape that Santa Carla, California was. I was just now realizing that I had no idea what I had gotten myself into, getting states away from home. The horrors of the grimy truckstop showers should have been an omen not to come here, but I was determined to get away. To start new. To be. . . different.

I had hitchhiked what felt like hundreds of miles, but I knew that wasn’t possible. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was not getting some serial killer-rapist to pick me up. So far, I had gotten nice people, families, and old run-down people that were once me. The Sun’s lasers blasted at me like I was Princess Leia. I was definitely going to get a sunburn after this. I held my thumb up for the millionth time to plead with someone to not let me die of a heatstroke out here. No luck.

The dry dirt crunched under my boots as I walked down the side of the highway into California. A “Welcome to Santa Carla California!” the sign taunted me. As I passed, something told me to glance back. Some punk had spray painted the phrase “MURDER CAPITAL OF THE WORLD” in a fitting, blood red. I suppose maybe that should have been my omen to quit while I was ahead. Of course, I didn’t listen. I had hithicked and been through some of the nasties and sketchiest places to get her. Murder Capital of the World wasn’t going to shock me. More people means more crime anyway.

This time, my thumb yielded an old red Toyota to take pity on me. Once inspecting my saviors, I understood why an older woman had stopped. She had two children in her car. Maybe she saw herself, or her kids, in me. Maybe the husky that was desperate to sniff me begged her to pull over.

“Hi, are you alright? Do you need a ride?” A sweet and delicate voice emanated from her gentle expression. Murder Capital of the World, am I right? Her two sons, the older brunette, and younger blonde, eyed me suspiciously. ALthough, they didn’t seem too concerned with their mother picking up a total stranger. Maybe she did this often.

“Yes ma’am, I just need a ride into town.” I explained. If I got a cheap hotel, maybe I could settle down a bit. I glanced into the old vehicle, it seemed a little over crowded. The two teenages didn’t seem to want to share their precious car space, especially with a husky on the blonde’s lap. Who drags a Husky into this kind of weather?

“Michael, move over just a little. Would you?” The woman’s turquoise necklace with wings caught my eye. It looked almost like a Journey album cover. Michale, the older brunette guy, side eyed me. Not wanting to displease his mother, moved over just a little.

I grabbed the sun bleached handle and opened the car to scoot towards Michael. I tried not to take up too much space, I was a sweaty hitchhiker. It seemed like any space I took up was too much.

“Thanks, I’m (Y/N).” I gestured my open palm towards Michael to shake.

“I’m Michael,” he thankfully shook my hand and didn’t seem too upset about me being in the car. “That’s Sam, Nanook, and my mom–”

“I’m Lucy by the way.” She laughed.

“It’s nice to meet you all. Thank you for giving me a ride, I really do appreciate it.” I thanked Lucy. Sam muttered something about not asking for another one. His mother’s displeased look stopped him from saying anything else.

“So, you’re staging with some family?” Lucy glanced at me through the rearview mirror.

“Oh, uh. I just . . . um. . .” I can’t believe that I was completely choking up. Shit. “Yeah, but only for a little bit.” I hoped that was enough to convince her. It wasn’t.

“Oh, they couldn’t drop you off?” She questioned.

“Well, they don’t have a car, so I just walk everywhere.”

“If you need somewhere to stay for a bit, we have extra room.” Lucy reached for my hand behind the seats.

“Mom–” Sam objected. I couldn’t blame him.

“Sam! Be nice. I raised you better than that!” She scolded.

“You’re more than welcome to stay with us if you need. Really, we do have plenty of room.” Lucy seemed more concerned for me that I was about myself.

Was it really a bad idea? Maybe. Was I going to take it anyway. Yeah! A rent free place to stay, why wouldn’t I take that? Plus, I could cook, clean, or pay rent after I got a job, so it wasn’t like I was taking advantage of them. I only had sixty bucks left, so not enough to stay at a motel for very long.

“Are you sure? I really don't want to take up unwanted space.” put on a sweet and naive voice. I couldn’t make it too obvious that I wanted to stay. Sam and Michael would be a little harder to convince, but I could do it.

/|\^._.^/|\

Along the ride, I learned the family’s name was the Emerson’s, freshly moving to Santa Carla after a not-so-great divorce. I thought it was interesting to move so far away, even if Lucy’s father was here. Did she not have siblings? Friends that could help her out? I wasn’t going to ask. Michael wasn’t too thrilled finishing his senior year in a completely different state, but he said he was going to try to make the best of it. Sam, on the other hand, was almost insulted that he had to relocate. A total mall-rat. California seemed right up his alley, every person who wanted to be someone, wanted to be in California. Not Sam though.

The Emerson’s stopped at the boardwalk, which I had no idea was anything more than an expensive tourist trap. Lucy said she came here all the time when she was younger. I always thought it was just for rides and carnie good, but no, there were legitimate businesses. It looked like a couple of food joints, random stores, and a . . . pharmacy? Weird. Maybe it was cheap to rent here. Maybe tourists just got sick a lot.

People were pouring out of every nook and cranny of these places, it was like an anthill. I hadn’t ever seen this many people since Black Friday, except with less fighting and stealing. The Emerson’s had split up and it looked almost impossible to figure out how they were going to meet up. It was overwhelming, especially with how bright and hot it was. Maybe I needed that pharmacy.

Sam and Nanook split, running around like wild children. Lucy and Michael went looking for jobs. I wasn’t really sure where to be, I also wanted a job, but I didn’t want to compete with Lucy or her son. Maybe if I look the next time we’re here, I’ll find one.

Jesus Christ, it was bright. Somebody’s got to sell some shade, otherwise I was going to get a migraine. I scanned the sweaty maze of people, locating a small shop. The Sa’s Surf Shop sign looked over me. Jesus, there were so many people. I forced myself into the air conditioned shop. The smell of sunscreen, surf wax, and too many people that smelled like salty water and B.O. was so grody. I spotted a pair of round, cat eye sunglasses, with a teal rim. They sat discarded in a big with other various pairs.

I picked up two similar pairs and wandered around the store pretending to be a customer. I put the pair I wanted in my waist band underneath my baggy shirt. I made my way over the bin and placed the other pair back. It was so easy to take from shops like this, there were always way too many people to keep track of thieves.

I walked a couple shops down before placing my shield of glory upon my face. A few more shops down, I noticed a bookstore. I was a little confused at how many shops and what types called the boardwalk “home.” It was much more than I expected.

The sign was so sunbleached it was almost impossible to read Used Books on the front. Straight to the point, I guess. An old ancient being guarded the sacred used book store. He seemed almost upset that someone wanted to actually buy something. The store was a tightly packed maze of books from new to who knows how old. Nothing was organized, excepta few book on display near the back, but none of them related to each other. Maybe the old geezer would hire the help he probably needed.

Once inspecting the display, I noticed that How to Raise Your IQ by Eating Gifted Children by Lewis Frunkes was next to Dracula by Brahm Stoker. . . . interesting. I pulled Dracula off the shelf, then moved around the shelves to find a similar cover. I eventually found another vampire novel that looked close enough to Dracula. I hid Dracula in between my back and the waistband of my pants, hopefully he hadn’t seen me. I proceeded to place the other book on the display hoping it would trick the old man. I made my way to the front of the store to find the old man staring at me intensely. Had he caught me? Hopefully not. He looked between me and the display, quinting. Could this dinosaur even see?

“Was that on the display?” a grainy voice interrogated me.

“Yes, sir.” I said.

He stared at me harshly before saying something. “Alright then.” He uncrossed his arms and placed him on his hips, revealing his name tag. Milforn.

“Excuse me, I was wondering if you were looking for some help–”

“No.” Milford flatly stated.

“Uh, ok. Have a nice day then.” I backed away slowly.

“I don’t need no help.” Milford’s jowls flapped angrily.

“Have a nice day sir.” I said as I quickly exited the store. What a weirdo.

I wandered around a bit before spotting Lucy, Sam, and Nanook. It seemed like lucy was asking Sam to give some money to two kids eating out of a dumpster. I remembered what that felt like. A couple of people had given me money before, but it always was embarrassing taking it. It felt like they just pitied me and wanted to make themselves feel better. Lucy didn’t mean it that way though, she was a good person. I truly do believe that she is a good person.

“Hey,” she grasped my shoulder gently. “We’re going to head up to my father’s now. Don’t forget you’re invited now.” She chuckled at me.

“Ok, thank you.” I said. I kinda felt bad for accepting. I didn’t want to take advantage of Lucy the same way I did those shop people. Lucy was nice, those shop people sucked and had overpriced junk.

Eventually, Me, Michael, Sam, Lucy, and Nanook clamored our way into the old, but well loved, Toyota. Sam seemed more upset about me going than Michael did. The car ride out of town was a little tense to say the least. It was thick enough to choke me. Lucy didn’t seem bothered, or didn’t let it show. She turned on the radio, made jokes, and eventually it seemed as if we were having a good time. Sam even laughed at something I said.

“Ya know, I haven’t lived with another girl since I lived with my mother!” Lucy laughed. “If you need anything, really anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you. If you need help moving anything, let me know. I don’t mind.” I chirped.

“You could move my stuff into my room.” Sam laughed.

“Light work I guess.” I quipped back. Michael chuckled in response. “So, how old are you guys?”

“18.” Michael said.

“Old enough.” Sam said.

“Sam,” Lucy nudged her son in the ribs. “He’s 13.”

“I’m guessing you're maybe 30?” I joked with Lucy. While Same and Michael didn’t seem to think my joke was funny, Lucy felt more than flattered. After all, it was her approval I was after, not two punk-ass teens.

“So are you in highschool?” Michael asked.

“No, I just graduated.”

“So why are you all the way out here?”

“A fresh start. I just wanted things to be different than how they were.” I didn’t want to tell my whole life story to a guy I just met a couple hours ago.

“Fair enough. Us too.” Michael was quiet and didn’t talk much. “I’m finishing my senior year here.”

“Who said you’re graduating?” Sam joked. Michael wetted the tip of his finger and shoved it into Sam’s left ear canal.

“Mom!Michael just gave me a wet-willy!”

“Michael, please don’t start on the wrong foot. We’re almost here. I don’t want your grandfather to think we fight.” Lucy explained.

“I thought it was funny.” I whispered to Michael. He chucked a bit. Perhaps I could get them to warm up to me.

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team-frightfur · 6 months

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I wish I'd watched Zexal before starting DMTG bc Heartland is truly insane. Utterly mad. Incomprehensible. There's no safety precautions on anything.

All their trains are caterpillars that crawl through the air. If power goes down in summer, everyone inside dies from heatstroke.

Yuma nearly dies during his duel with III because he nearly walks off the unrailed edge of a highway. Said highway is not only over the sea, but ends suddenly and is also a motherfucking spiral.

Their duelling rollercoasters have safety bars but the safety bars don't move. They're just there for aesthetic. Instead, your only support is a flimsy seatbelt that some people choose not to wear. Five stands on top of his duel coaster to flip a 4k burn trap. The Duel Coaster rail occasionally turns horizontal.

I fully believe that Heartland only has such advanced technology because they fired their OSHA staff and replaced them with RnD. I also choose to believe that Arc V Heartland is exactly like this and that is why Kurosaki has no fear when riding unsecured atop his Raidraptors.

Shun: This is actually safer than driving.

Ruri: Balance is a critical Heartlander skill.

Yuto: If you can't balance you die at the age of 5, which is when you start taking the duel coaster to school. It's natural selection.

EDIT: MY FRIEND HAS PICS.

#team frightfur watches zexal

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saiyanprincessswanie · 1 year

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SaiyanPrincessSwanie - Reading List Week 139 & 140

Welcome to Week 139 & 140

As always these will be listed in no particular order. None of these stories are mine. I’m just signal boosting them. Author is listed next to title. My goal is to signal boost writers and spread positivity in the community. 💜💜

Click HERE to see what I will or won’t read. This is very important.

Click HERE for past reading lists.

My Masterlist click HERE

Please make sure you’re reading the warnings on every story. They range from dark to fluff. Do Not Read if you are under 18 years old. These stories are meant for adults only. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.

Page-break by @whimsicalrogers & header by me

If you can, please reblog these lists so they can reach more people on Tumblr.

I love you 3000 💜 Missy

Made for Me - Part 4 - (Bucky x Reader) - @saiyanprincessswanie

Steve Drabble - @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Fitness - (Ari x Reader) - @our-marvel-universe

Shortcake - (Stucky x Reader) - @sidepartskinnyjeans

brooklyn baby - (Steve x OFC) - @marxeluni

A Real Prince Charming - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Secrets chapter 4 - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Bedazzled- Chp 11 - (James x OFC) - @caffiend-queen

If I Could Touch You - (Steve x Reader) - @targaryenvampireslayer

Biker Bucky & Biker Ari Drabble - @angrythingstarlight

Nobody can take your place - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

At Home Drill - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Two kings (1) - (Steve x Reader) - @holylulusworld

Words - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

A omega's taste - (Tony x Reader x Steve) - @ironlady1993

From Blue to Green - (Lee x Reader) - @springdandelixn

Bedazzled Chp 12 - (James x Reader) - @caffiend-queen

His Inheritance - Part 12 - (Steve x Reader) - @jtargaryen18

Highways & Heatstrokes Part 1 - (Ari x Reader) - @oh-my-damn

Lightning in a Bottle - (Thor x Reader) - @wizardofrozz

New Rules - Part 11 - (Steve x Reader) - @syntheticavenger

Secrets Chp 5 - (Steve x Reader, Brock x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Riding On - Chp 31 - (Frank x OFC) - @wiypt-writes

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Day 1 - @wiypt-writes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Saved - Part 3 - (Steve x Reader) - @kellyn1604

Secret Sierra - Chp 3 - @lloydsbitch

Aurora - Part 3 - (Andy x OFC, Lloyd) - @andydrysdalerogers

Best Friends Forever - Chp 3 - (Bucky x Reader) - @talia-rumlow

Collared part 6 - @spnexploration

Bedazzled - Chp 13 - (James x Reader) - @caffiend-queen

Follow you home - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Confessions - (Steve x Reader) - @our-marvel-universe

Bedazzled - The Final Chapter! - (James x Reader) - @caffiend-queen

Marks - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

In the middle of the night - (Stucky x Reader) - @late-to-the-party-81

The Dinner Guest - (Steve x Reader, Lloyd x Reader) - @labella420

Two Kings (2) - (Steve x Reader) - @holylulusworld

In His Hands - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Design - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Pursuit - (Brock x Reader) - @fluffyprettykitty

Make You Feel My Love - (Bucky x Reader) - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

#saiyanprincessswanie #recommended reading #missy reads #missy reblogs #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #ari levinson x reader #stucky x reader #lee bodecker x reader #tony stark x reader #thor x reader #brock rumlow x reader #frank adler x ofc #lloyd hansen x reader

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sebrrari · 18 days

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strong as i feel: a mini-scene set in the summer of like au, a year before there is a ghost at the end of this song. alex albon/lewis hamilton

_______________________

the heat’s seeping through the windows of the van like tar, melting and dragging them down as seb drives them out of california. lewis has someone’s sweatshirt bunched up into a makeshift pillow for him to wedge between his head and the window, and alex is watching him watch the scenery whizz by with his eyes squinted against the relentless midday sun.

the light's bringing out the brown of lewis's braids and making the sweat on his face glow like he’s in a painting. alex is stealing sweet, guilty glances from where he’s sitting at other end of the bench seat, legs crossed and headphones in. his foot’s wiggling in time to a playlist charles put together: brit pop that's repetitious but catchy enough for him to hum along to the choruses. it usually gets him to zone out for 100 miles or so, but something electric and nervous deep in his guts won't go away. it's making him crazy, honestly.

he’s about to bang out a drum solo on his legs when lewis grabs his ankle and tugs. alex yelps, rips one ear bud out and wriggles his leg around in lewis’s firm grip. he shouldn’t savor such a casual touch, especially with someone as handsy as lewis. telling himself that has never once stopped him from doing so.

“tell me what’s wrong or stop fidgeting,” lewis scolds. he’s not really annoyed, alex knows. on tour, bickering is just something to do while you’re getting to where you’re going.

he’s turned toward alex now, stretched out to reach him, quiet ripples of muscle running underneath his tattoos all on display in the absence of the costumes and jackets it’s too hot to bother with right now.

his most threadbare shirt is falling off him - grey, sleeveless with big cut-open armholes that let his chest peek out. from just the right angle alex can imagine he's carved from marble that's pretending to be a lead singer, hard and made to tempt belief to bend for it.

there’s a bead of sweat trickling down the side of lewis's pec, syrupy slow on its way down, down-

alex bites the inside of his cheek, then points his foot to nudge lewis in the shin.

“nothing’s wrong,” he says, and he's pretty sure he sounds like he means it. “‘m just-“ he fishes for what could be besides worn through with want and heatstroke. “antsy.”

lewis’s expression softens up. he fans his fingers out on alex’s ankle, his thumb coming up to stroke the dip above the heel, back and forth in a sure line. he couldn’t know, but he’s not helping a single cell in alex’s body relax.

“charles’s fucking brit pop playlist isn’t boring enough for you to fall asleep?” lewis smirks.

“i heard that,” charles says from behind them in the third row.

lewis blows him an exaggerated kiss, then reaches for the ipod in alex’s jeans pocket. he fishes it out and pokes around, fingers circling the wheel and searching through the artists while alex he ponders the boundaries of friendly intimacy and if everyone’s been reaching into their friends’ pockets since pockets were invented and he just missed the memo.

“there,” lewis decides, and a soft guitar fades in. he plucks the other earbud out of alex’s palm to pop it in his own ear, but the line of the cord pulls taut between them, not quite long enough to reach. lewis grunts but doesn't drop it - instead he wriggles himself closer to alex until there’s a scant bubble of air between their skin.

the chorus starts. alex reminds himself to breathe - but not like, overly measured. this is normal. it always has been.

their arms push together and snag on prickly sweat as the van goes around a curve in the highway, hot, tacky surface tension sticking them together. neither of them move to put the space back in.

“better?” lewis asks him.

highway warm, i could bring you the light, billie corgan sings.

“bit on the nose,” alex jokes, and lewis grins.

“shut up and relax, man,” lewis laughs.

alex tries. he really tries. he thinks cold thoughts: ice on his neck, a cold shower, taking the dog out for a piss during a winter storm in just his sweatpants. lewis learns on him and tips his head back. alex barely notices his own eyes closing.

“what do you want, alex?” lewis asks, his thumb pulling on alex’s lower lip.. it’s so, so easy to say it. how could he have ever thought this was hard? “you,” he answers, and scrapes his teeth on the pad of lewis’s thumb. “it’s you that i adore.” lewis moans and the sound bounces all around them forever like choir voices off cathedral walls. they intertwine like twisted cords, a mess to never untangle. everything is blinding, white hot and burning, but he can only focus on lewis.

alex wakes up with his head on lewis’s shoulder and pins and needles in his legs. jesus christ, he might’ve drooled a bit.

lewis sleeps on, oblivious. the road stretches endless beyond the windshield. heat waves shimmer like the edges of his dream, taunting him to reach out and grab.

he tucks his hands underneath his thighs and tries to get comfortable, but the current in his veins has nowhere to go. the album loops back to its first track in his ear.

______________________

(title and lyrics/references shamelessly taken from the album adore by the smashing pumpkins)

#ummmmmm #summer of like au #ghost at the end #my fic #ill write again they said ill be so normal they said

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mochie85 · 2 years

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Heatstroke

One-Shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

One-shots based on this May prompt list. Prompt 5: Swearing in a foreign language Prompt 6: Refund

A/N: Thanks to @lokis-coffee221 for help with the writing and the translations. Warnings: fluff, enemies-to-lovers, cursing, a lot of touching, implied smut. Jotunn Loki Pairings: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: Over 3.4K

When Wanda and Vision decided to elope yesterday, the whole team flew out to Vegas to celebrate with them. Last night, you all decided to throw them an impromptu bachelor/ette party where you drunkenly made her a promise: To find her the one-of-a-kind ring, made by this eccentric jeweler, who just happens to live in a small town in the middle of the Nevada desert that Wanda just had to have. Of course, as one of her best friends, you wanted to do something nice for her and Vision so you agreed to go get the rings for her. Then they sent Loki with you thinking it would be a great time for the two of you to bond.

Ever since you came to work with the Avengers, Loki has had it out for you. He was always saying snarky little comments under his breath. Laughing when Natasha knocks your ass down during training. Or how he constantly tells you how you’re holding a firearm the wrong way.

“I know how to hold my weapon, Loki. Do you?”

“Care to find out lille venn?” he said in a teasing manner.

“Come anywhere near me and you won’t have a weapon to use anymore.” You threatened. God! He irritated you so much.

The whole team has seen it. You two were always at each other’s throats. Always a hair away from drawing weapons against each other. He would tease you or call you condescending names like skatt. And you would always fire back, like the little spitfire that you are. You never backed down and you always served it back to him as good as he gave it to you.

The day started with Wanda waking you up. You felt like you just laid down from last night’s party. She ushered you out, still dressed in last night’s dress and a cup of coffee. “Hurry and be back by 6 pm. The ceremony is at 8. Don’t be late!” She warned you. She pushed you out into the hotel hallway, still half asleep, chugging your latte. You turned and were met by the god of mischief leaning on his doorway giving you an infuriating smirk. It looked like he was wearing the same suit from the night before as well. His top button was unbuttoned and his bowtie was loose and hanging around his neck. You rolled your eyes and continued down the hallway towards the elevator.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look in that dress, skatt?” He said in the elevator, his eyes raking up and down your body. You cringed whenever he called you that. You hated that name, and he noticed. You never knew what half the things he calls you actually mean, but you’re sure they’re not flattering. They don’t sound flattering. Especially skatt.

“Don’t start with me, Loki. I haven’t had enough sleep and now I’ll be spending an indefinite amount of time with you. Ugh, so help me god, I will shove my heels down your throat.” The doors open, and you make your way out to the parking garage to hop into the car.

“So feisty this morning min kjærlighet.” You tossed him the keys to one of the rental cars the team borrowed and got into the passenger seat.

“You drive. I’m not awake yet.” You commanded.

“As you wish, min skatt.” He answered as you rolled your eyes. You strapped on your seatbelt and rested your feet on the dash.

As you pulled out of the garage, and onto the street, Loki couldn’t help but notice your dress riding down your thighs. “Eyes on the road, Laufeyson!” you said with a sideways glance. He couldn’t help but give you that irritating smirk of his.

You navigated him out of The Strip and onto the highway, you headed further east onto vast deserts and empty roadways.

“We should stop and get something to eat,” Loki suggested.

“And prolong this misadventure? I don’t think so.”

“Elskling, you haven’t had anything to eat. And although I’ve enjoyed watching you set lose last night, you did overdo it.”

“What are you my dad now?”

“Du kan kale meg pappa hvis du vil,”* he said with the most salacious grin and a wink.

“Ugh. What are you even saying?! You know I can’t understand you right?” This is how he loved to tease you. Loki loved getting a reaction out of you. He could see the passion in your eyes when you were angry at him. He would do it a thousand times over just to keep you talking to him.

“Oh, I’m counting on it.” His grin got wider. “In all seriousness, you need something more substantial than that cup of coffee.”

“I’m fine. The longer we take, the more I have to spend time with you. I’d rather get this over with.” You barked out. Loki sucked his lips in, creating a thin line. He was annoyed. But you didn’t care why.

“Fine. At least conserve your energy.” It was hot. The local weather forecast in Vegas said it would be in the ’90s this week with a couple of days hovering over triple-digit heatwaves. You could feel the searing heat from your window whenever you touched it.

The jewelry store was hard to find. Loki drove for half an hour around the same highway exit till you figured out where it was. It was located inside a truck stop, next to a 24-hour diner. As soon as you walked in, the one and only clerk mistook you and Loki for a couple and thought you were purchasing a ring for yourselves. You only scoffed as you pointed out the ring that Wanda had wanted.

“Come on, kjæreste, why don’t you pick up something for yourself? My treat.” Loki said, scanning the jewelry in front of him.

“Why, so that I could be indebted to you. No, thanks.”

“It would be a gift. I would never expect anything back from you, elske.” You interpreted that as he would never expect you to be able to afford such luxurious items anyway.

“NO. Thank you. I got Wanda and Vision’s rings. I’m ready to go.”

“Suit yourself, skatt.” Loki followed you to the car, and the both of you made it back on the freeway to go back to the hotel on The Strip.

A few miles out, you heard the car sputtering. It slowed to a crawl before the engine died and the battery turned off. “What just happened?” Loki asked.

“Did we run out of gas?” You leaned over to look at the dash, and sure enough, it read empty. “Loki. You didn’t see we needed gas? We were just at a truck stop! We could’ve filled up.” You started yelling.

“I only know how to operate this thing. I don’t know what all the other symbols mean.” He replied.

“Omigod. We’re gonna have to walk back to get fuel. In this sweltering heat.” You left the car, resigned to your fate. Slamming the door behind you, you started walking back down the road to the truck stop with the jewelry store.

“Where are you going, sk…”

“Don’t say it. Loki.” You interrupted.

“…skatt?” That did it. That pushed you over your threshold of civility.

“Putangina! Hindi mo talaga maintindihan, noh? Ano bang ginawa ko sayo? Lagi mo na lang akong iniirita. Ano ba pinagtatawag mo sakin? Ha!? Wala 'kong magawang tama sayo! Lagi mo na lang akong hinuhusgahan! Ano? Ano ba?”?”** You were so angry that you started speaking in your native tongue. You couldn’t express what you really wanted to in English.

Loki was just taken aback. He’s never seen you so angry before. He’s triggered you many times before but never like this. “You must be truly irate with me if you started speaking in your mother tongue. You do know that my allspeak can translate what you just said, right?”

Your eyes widened only a fraction before you schooled them. You had forgotten he could do that. But it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re glad you finally said what you’ve been wanting to say.

Perfect timing too because as soon as you calmed down, your vision went black and you fainted on the ground.

“Darling? Elske?” Loki ran to your body on the ground and held you in his arms. Your skin was covered in sweat and was burning up. He picked you up and moved you to the backseat of the car to lay you down. You had gotten heatstroke.

Loki got angry. He told you that you needed to eat. He told you to conserve your energy. He should’ve stopped at a restaurant somewhere and forced you to eat something. He was the god of mischief; he probably could’ve tricked you into doing it. He should’ve known about the empty fuel tank. If he fueled up, you wouldn’t have to stop in the middle of nowhere and you wouldn’t have gotten heatstroke. He was so mad at himself!

Luckily, he searched the car and found three unopened water bottles in the trunk. Turning his hands into his Jotunn form, he chilled the water. This gave him an idea. But he didn’t know if you were going to like it.

He took off his suit jacket and tie and laid them out in the front seat. He took off his white linen shirt and doused it with the contents of one of the water bottles. He wrapped his shirt around you, trying to lower your body temperature.

After a few seconds, you started to move your head. Then came the soft whimpers. “Darling?” he asked softly. “Are you with me?”

“Loki?” You tried getting up, but moving just made you feel nauseous.

“Shh. Shh. Don’t get up, I found some cold water. I’m going to lift your head slightly so you can drink it, ok?”

“Ok.” He helped you drink small sips from the cap until you were able to sit up and drink straight from the bottle.

“Heatstroke?” you asked.

“You over-exerted yourself. I texted the Captain. They are on their way to pick us up. I don’t know how your current state would react if I were to transport us there with my seidr. Drink some more water.”

“Stop telling me what to do.” You said weakly.

“Please don’t fight with me on this. I already feel bad for letting this situation get out of hand.” You took a swig of water. Your breathing was fast and shallow. Loki watched you carefully. Looking out for any signs that your condition was getting worse. He needed to cool you down. His shirt that was on you had already adjusted to your temperature.

You noted that he was shirtless. His wide chest and lean muscles were on display for you to stare at. You’d never seen him with his shirt off. Being so close to him in the backseat felt too intimate. Your body started blushing and you started to heat up again. You felt lightheaded.

“Darling. You’re heating up again. Can I try something with you?” he asked gently. You barely had any strength to approve or deny his request. You just hummed. “I’m going to touch you, ok? I’m going to wrap my hands around the back of your neck to cool you off.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into the seat. Soon you felt cold fingers glide to the back of your neck. Loki curved his hand around you delicately. You instantly felt the cooling sensation and let out a sigh. His hands traveled down to your shoulders, pushing his shirt off and cooling your skin there.

It wasn’t enough. Loki could only cool a part of you down slightly. He was fighting against the blaring heat of the Nevada desert. He needed to cool more of you down quickly. “I’m going to sit you on my lap darling. You need more contact with me.” You heard him say.

You were scared. You’ve never been so vulnerable in front of him. You always wanted to present yourself as tough and unbending when it comes to him. You didn’t need to give him another reason to tease you.

He took his shirt off you and threw it at the front seat. He picked you up easily and placed you on his lap. His bare chest made contact with your arm and you felt cool. He wrapped his arms around your back to support you and he left his other arm wrapped around your legs. It felt like you were surrounded by ice. Loki rubbed your back and made circles with his thumb on your legs. The whole sensation felt refreshing. You let out a contented sigh.

Loki stopped his movements when you wiggled your hips and leaned your head into the crook of his neck, snuggling up next to him. “You feel so cool.” You whispered. He let out a broken sigh as he tried to control his emotions.

Slowly you regained your vision back. Your breathing had steadied and Loki offered you more water. You looked up at him and noted that he turned into his Jotunn form in front of you. He was using himself as your personal ice pack to keep you cool. “Doesn’t the heat affect you?” you said as you ran your hand down his cheek. He quickly took hold of your hand. He was surprised that you would willingly touch him in this form. Not very many would. “Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you without…”

“It’s ok,” he said looking into your eyes. “I don’t mind.” He continued to hold your hand, as you looked into his beautiful scarlet eyes. You simply smiled and nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck again.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“No darling, it’s me who should apologize. I shouldn’t have pushed your buttons intentionally. I should’ve stopped for food and made sure you ate something. I should’ve made sure you were properly hydrated, especially from last night’s frivolities And I definitely should’ve known about the fuel. You have every right to yell at me.”

“So you admit to annoying me on purpose?” you asked laughing.

“Do you know why I like to pick on you so often?”

“No.”

“It’s because I like to see the fire in your eyes. Your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of red and you look so provocative when you’re angry.” Loki started rubbing your soft legs up and down as he admitted to his intentions. “Did you ever look up the meanings of the names I call you?” he asked looking into your eyes. You shook your head as his hand that was on your back, traveled up to the nape of your neck, cooling the heated skin that started to form there. You moaned at the simple pleasure of being cooled by his touch. “You have no idea what I call you, do you skatt?” he chuckled. You furrowed your eyebrows at the sound of his nickname for you.

“Min skatt means, my treasure. Elskling or elske means darling...roughly translating.” You sat up surprised at his words. This whole time he was calling you pet names and you thought he was calling you something horrible.

“You’re lying.” You said skeptically. Loki simply shook his head. He brought his cold hand to your cheek and rubbed it gently with his thumb.

“Min kjæreste or kjærlighet means…my love.” he whispered. His grip around you got tighter. His face was nose to nose with yours.

“Why would you make me believe you were calling me some horrible names. That you were mean and vicious?”

“It’s easier to accept your fury than to live with your rejection,” Loki said tracing your cheek with his nose. By now you had straddled him completely in the backseat. Your thighs wrapped around his strong hips. His hands roamed your body. Lowering your temperature. Keeping you cool from the Nevada sun. He cupped your cheek again, as you savored his cool touch. His thumb traced your bottom lip and you let out a small whimper. He gently traced his fingers down your neck and onto the hollow dip between your clavicles. He rested his hands on your chest with his palm flat open, cooling you even further.

His touch was heavy so it wouldn’t feel ticklish yet it was reverent at the same time. Loki had only ever imagined being this close to you. He never thought you would receive him the way you are now, especially with how he’s treated you in the past.

“I…” you started to say, but you lost your train of thought. Loki stroked your body, heating it up while simultaneously cooling you down.

“What is it, min elske?”

“I need…”

“What do you need? What can I give you?”

“I need to be…”

“…closer?”

“Yes,” you nodded. Loki’s arms wrapped around you, holding you firmly against him. You draped your arms around his neck, nestling your lips by his ear. Loki let out a carnal groan, savoring the feel of your body wrapped around him.

“I will not take advantage of you like this, kjærlighet. For all I know, you could just be delirious from the sweltering heat and you will not remember any of this, come this time tomorrow. Please do not test my self-control.”

He was right. What has gotten into you? Just this morning you were willing to stab him with the heel of your shoe. Now you were on his lap mewling, a slave to his touch. In just one afternoon, all the strong feelings you’ve had against him came together and transformed into something new. Something sensuous.

“Ahh, the Captain’s here,” Loki whispered. Through the front windshield, Loki watched as the quinjet touched down in front of the car. Loki positioned you off his lap, only to get out of the car and put on his shirt. He rolled his sleeves while keeping his shirt unbuttoned and tucked into his pants. He picked you up again and carried you over as the back hanger opened up. You could feel Loki’s cold hands cradling you as you laid your head down on his shoulder.

You were both greeted with concern from your team and the revitalizing sting of the jet’s air conditioning.

“Omigod. Omigod. This is all my fault. I would’ve never sent you out if I knew this would happen.” Wanda said scurrying around you.

“She’s fine. Just needs water and possibly something to eat.” Loki answered her.

“I am. Really, Wanda. Loki saved me. I got your rings. I didn’t ruin your special day did I?” You quickly said to her.

“Oh, hon! No, you didn’t. Of course, you didn’t. I’m just glad you’re safe. There’s still plenty of time till the ceremony.”

The trip back to the hotel was short. You had laid your head down on Loki’s lap as he stroked your hair while his other arm rested on the backseat. He kept his Jotunn hands altered, cooling you down. As soon as you landed, he was reluctant to let you go, but he knew you were in good hands with Wanda and Natasha looking after you.

All it took was a warm bath, a light lunch, and plenty of water to get you back to yourself again. You had ample time to spare to get ready and stand at the altar next to Nat as Wanda’s bridesmaids.

The ceremony was simple and full of love. After dinner at the hotel’s finest restaurant, you decided to skip the clubs that the team wanted to hit up. You were exhausted from today and just wanted some time to relax.

Before you got a chance to change into your pajamas, you heard a knock on your door. You opened it slightly to find Loki leaning against your door frame, holding a bottle of sparkling water.

“What? No champagne?” you said laughing as you opened the door wider to him.

“If that’s what you’d prefer.” He shook the bottle and it turned into a bottle of champagne. “I can’t get a refund on this one, I’m afraid. I thought you might’ve wanted to go easy as well. Considering what happened earlier.”

“Why are you here, Loki?”

“I thought we could finish what we started earlier.” He said with a smirk. You stepped out of the way to invite him into your room. As the doors closed he cupped your face. Looking down he whispered, “min kjærlighet.” He brought his cool lips down to yours and captured them in a searing kiss.

*You can call me daddy if you’d like

**Son of a bitch! You really don’t get it, do you? What did I ever do to you?! You’re always irritating me. What do you even call me? Huh? And I can never do anything right by you. You always criticize me. What? What is it?

(Min skatt - my treasure) (kjærlighet or kjæreste - love) (lille venn - little friend) (Elskling or elske - darling)

#writing ideas #fic prompt #loki fanfic #loki fluff #mcu #loki laufeyson #loki fandom #loki x you #loki oneshot #loki x reader #@deity-prompts #language #linguistics #foreign languages #enemies to lovers #jotunn #frost loki #tom hiddles #ton

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