#i need to know how long is she does that.......... i need the whole backup story behind it............
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Miguel O'Hara — Love Sick
a/n: i've been slaving over genetics (and biochemistry) lately, and when i was scrolling on tiktok during my break i saw this one superbat imagine and thought of writing it with my favorite geneticist
cw: uh just fluff ig, miguel o'hara is not good with feelings, miguel o'hara is emotionally constipated
You haven't always had the best of luck in your life.
It wasn't so bad that it made you hit rock bottom, but you've had your fair share of moments where you ended up drawing the shortest end of the stick in the game we all call life.
And as you stare at Peter's hand balled to a fist, and yours with two of your fingers pointed out, his hand forming a rock and yours forming scissors, you quickly conclude that this is one of those moments.
Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't put losing to Peter in rock, paper, and scissors as top 5 of the worst moments of your life; however, this is different. To explain just how different it was, we need to go back to a few minutes ago, the reason why you and Peter had to play in the first place.
Not long ago, you received an alert from the Spider-Man 2099 himself asking for backup. You didn't bother to respond as Jess had already reassured you that she's got him—as it turns out, she, in fact, does not have him when she teleported back with an unconscious Miguel draped over her shoulder.
That, in itself, is already worrying enough. But what worried you more was Lyla's report on your boss' situation, relaying the information to Miguel's inner circle of most trusted Spider-people, including you.
"He's been hit with a love potion, an incredibly potent one at that," Lyla reports, her holographic form adjusting her heart glasses and typing away on her holographic computer. "It hasn't kicked in yet, but it will the moment he wakes up," Lyla adds before looking up from her computer, disappearing and reappearing in the middle of the huddled-up spiders
"And when he does, he'll be head-over-heels in love with the first person he sees," The AI informed them in a serious tone, before grinning like the mischievous rascal she is.
"So... Who will the lucky person be?"
It has been decided amongst your group that whoever loses shall be the unfortunate soul that needs to deal with Miguel's affection until Lyla and the other Spiders have concocted an antidote for everyone's admired boss.
And now, you stare back at your hand, then at Peter's, and back at your own hand again. Silence fills Miguel's spacious office as all eyes land on you, and you can feel your cheeks already starting to warm up.
"Can't we just blindfold him?" You spoke before anyone else could, looking over at the holographic AI, who seemed a bit too pleased with the results. "Or lock him in a room or something?"
"Don't be so barbaric," Peter spoke with amusement in his voice.
"Right. Besides, it can't be that bad!" Lyla spoke, her voice with a hint of something that you can't quite put your finger on. Mischievousness? Teasing? Hinting at something she knows but you don't? You didn't know for sure.
"I think Miguel would prefer being locked in a room than being lovesick for an entire day." You respond with a sigh as Peter practically drags you toward where Miguel is currently lying unconscious, and you have no other choice but to let him.
You were a person of your word. You can't possibly back out now just because you lost.
You tense slightly as your spider sense alerts you that Miguel is starting to wake up, feet glued to the floor when he starts to stir.
"You'll be fine," Jess tried to comfort you with a poorly hidden amused smile on her face, followed by Peter patting your back, and you didn't have to turn around to sense that he'd already whipped his phone out to record the whole scene.
The whole room was tense, or perhaps it was just you. Ice ran through your veins the more Miguel moved, and you could feel everyone's eyes on you as his hand moved to rub one eye before finally, finally.
His eyes flutter open.
Ruby red irises land on your form, and you can see a hint of your reflection from his intense gaze. The first person he saw as he awoke.
He stares at you in silence, gaze glued to yours, raking over your visibly tense form as you stare back at him. His face remains neutral, and you're already bracing yourself for his affection—may it be in the form of verbal affection or physical affection.
Miguel then leans forward to sit, before slowly standing up.
You watch as he takes steps toward you, his hand already rising and about to reach out. Your heart skips a few beats, trying to beat right out of your chest to meet his own halfway.
When he was closer to you, you tense up even more, ready to be pulled into his arms...
Except... he just slipped past you.
The hand he raised earlier ran through his hair, his eyes now on Jess.
"Mission report," Miguel demanded in his usual neutral, gruff tone as everyone looked at him with jaws dropped, all dumbfounded by his casualness.
The drowsiness seems to have left Miguel by then as he looks at everyone. He raises a brow in confusion as he notices everyone's stupified expressions and Peter's phone still pointed at him as if they were expecting something from him.
"What?" He asks, brow still raised.
"That's... This isn't how it's supposed to go!" Peter was the first to speak, begrudgingly putting his phone in his robe's pocket.
"Peter, I'm already not feeling well." Miguel responds, brow scrunched as he turns to face Peter, "I have no time for your antics, and that goes for you, too." He adds, pointing towards you on the last part.
Lyla's hologram hen shows up on Miguel's shoulder, bent over and examining Miguel's face, a hand on her chin as she hums. Her boss raises his brow again at this, trying to shoo her away, only for her to keep insisting.
"You were hit with a love potion, Miguel. Quite a potent one, too." Lyla informs the man who's looking at her with a skeptical look in his eyes as she continues, "I calculated its effects would include being down bad in love with the first person you see when you regain consciousness."
Miguel blinks at that, his eyes landing on you, and you recognize the flicker of understanding in his gaze as he does before looking back to Lyla and to the disappointed Peter and the less-visibly disappointed but still very much disappointed Jess.
"Well, it didn't work." Was his simple response, which caused a groan to resound from Peter and a shake of a head from Jess.
"Come on, not even a bit?" Peter asks, looking at Miguel with narrowed eyes. "Look at them, don't you feel like pulling them into your arms and kissing them until the sun sets?"
"First off, that's highly inappropriate," Miguel responds, his hand coming up to pinch his nose bridge in between his fingers to nurse a headache already starting to come up. He says your name exasperatedly, "Please don't mind him. You know how he is."
Before Peter can voice out the offense he took to Miguel's words, Jess speaks up with curiosity and a hint of suspicion in her voice.
"But how come it didn't work?" Jess asks, her brows furrowing in confusion, looking at Miguel, whose face remained neutral despite her questioning. "Lyla was so sure it affected you, and it affected you enough that you lost consciousness, and suddenly it just... didn't have an effect?"
Miguel clears his throat at that, subtly looking to Lyla to give Jess an explanation that would sate her curiosity and make her suspicions die down, but you suddenly spoke to his rescue.
"Perhaps it has something to do with his DNA?" You infer, humming softly to yourself, "His DNA is different from ours, and most of the time, he's immune to potions and poisons because he isn't human enough to be affected by them. Right?"
Your eyes meet Miguel's as you ask for confirmation, and your breath hitches at the sheer intensity of his gaze as he looks back at you. Still, this wasn't anything new. Miguel can be kind of intense and intimidating, even if he doesn't mean to.
"Pretty much." It was Lyla who confirmed your theory on behalf of Miguel, and before anyone could speak, Miguel swiftly interjected.
"Alright, the show's over." He spoke, looking over at everyone and individually giving instructions in order to get all of you off of his back.
"Jess, I need that report before the end of the day. Peter, weren't you supposed to go home early today? Look after your pregnant wife." Miguel spoke before turning to look at you, "And you, I have a mission for you."
One by one, the three of you leave his office, with you being the last one after he briefs you on the mission with Lyla's assistance. Miguel's eyes were glued to your back as you left, much to your obliviousness.
"It worked, didn't it?" Lyla coos suddenly, snapping Miguel out of his thoughts, making him jump slightly and snap his eyes from your figure and towards his holographic AI.
"What worked?" Miguel tried to feign innocence, looking away from Lyla as he turned toward his many screens.
"The Love Potion. It worked." Lyla continues to tease him, grinning at him knowingly as she lays on her stomach in the air, kicking her feet. "You're just so in love with them already that it didn't make a difference."
Miguel remained silent for a while at her teasing words, but the reddish tint blooming on his tan cheeks was enough of an answer to the AI already. Besides, she's the one subjected to Miguel's eyes, always following you around like a lost puppy whenever you're in the room.
"If you tell anyone, I'm shutting you down."
"No, you're not."
".....No, I'm not."
#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara imagine#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara#spiderman 2099#spider man: across the spider verse#spider man across the spider verse x reader#atsv miguel#atsv x reader
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Slashers with y/n that just gets along with everything
Like slasher could litteraly kill somone near y/n and she would be like alr alr whats really important is that you are happy🤠😎. Im sorry that first 2character had super long headcanons while last ones have way less :( I had no ideas Request open!
Billy Lenz
He always expects some sort of negative response when he calls people and when he heard new voice on the Phone he got even more exited cuz new person new reaction! He totally didnt expect her to just go "yeah yeah sure buddy, anyways... how is your day man? Cuz im so so tired...*starts normal converstation*
He probably tries to stay in character but he is so caught of Guard he doesnt know how to react really (hehe the table has turn)
Now he kinda hopes that she will pick up cuz shes very intresting😈 billy likey
"Ew its this creep again! He is asking for you y/n? Of please dont tell me you befriended him??" "So what? He said hes favourite fruit is strawberry he cant be that bad!" *billy saying slurs on the phone*
You need to constantly tell him that, no Billy no harrasing women isnt sexy, you arent quirky, you are mentally ill
"Y/n i killed that bitch that was gossiping about you 🧍 " "👍good for you billy im glad you found healthy way to cope with that negative emotion😇" "on god"
His whole moral compass is created around the simple question 'does it hurt y/n?' .1:no it doesnt so feel free to do it .2 do not do it, she will ban Billy from sweets (bad ending)
The man from hush
This guy. This dude. This Little gremlin. He is upset that he gets no reaction! Like please oh please act all angy when he 'acidently' shot tire in her car! But oh no ofc no, she had to be like "oh its okay honey i have backup in garage🥰" hes like HHUH SINCE WHEN WE HAVE GARAGE
Like tbh thats how i imagine how they met: he saw her, he wanted to hunt her, she was so chill that she didnt even leave her household while the power was off and he went inside and just saw her having lil nap on couch. 🧍🤨erm exuse me gurl im trying to roleplay epic hunter here tf
He probably kidnaped her cuz she was too weird to just kill her but he didnt want to risk her calling police. He probably tied her up and yeeted her on backseats. And then she begun judging music on the radio"yo big guy can i get some good music taste?" "What? Whats wrong with Taylor Swift?"
He will overshare everything to kinda check where is her limit if it comes to being chill "yeah so i killed this old lady.." "im sure you had good reason🥰" "🤨... anyways... yeah so i was drinking some redbull when some guy said i look ugly so i shoot his head off and-" "HEY HEY hold up geez you CANT drink Energy drinks?? Bestie you know it is unhealthy?? Also you like hunt for sport it will ruin your condition!? How you gonna shoot people with shakey hands?? You crazy or something?" "Damn😔"
Micheal myers
I tried to put him here but i realised he will be as chill as her.
Like he can give her gifts covered in blood and she' just going to clean it and wear it like nothing happened or completley ignore it
He cares about this stuff as much as y/n so like not at all. I mean tbh theres is a bit of difrence: shes at least positive about it! Like "yeah micheal go for it, love🥰😇 i know its hard to cope with trauma take it all out alr?" Shes trying to be a good supporting gf not her fault she never had serial killer bf!
Brahms Heelshire
He lives for attention! What do you mean the war crime he commited this lunch break is okay!?!? Baby pleasee
But this negativity disapears the moment he realised he can get a lot of positive attention when he will do some nice stuff! "Oh honey I didnt kill any rats today" "oh that's amazing brahms I'm sure you and the rats inside walls will get along well soon🥰" (rats in walls bully brahms)
Please complement him or he will get a tantrum and destroy something
Brahms and rats have very hard past i might do seperate hc about that
Ghostface
"Look babe! My newest victim *shows photo*" "ugh baby...😰 you NEED to buy new camera or watch some youtube tutorials about how to take good photos" "aw man whats wrong with my pictures 😔"
Otherwise y/n supports his hobbies! People need to grow😇 (and he needs to grow up)
If theres 2ghostfaces(like in most movies) they will bet money on how long you gonna keep this 'do whatever as long as youre happy' act. Well they didnt know that this wasnt an act but her personality
Also they will probably try to use this chillnes aginst her like "oooh y/n something terrible happened! I crushed my car oh what will i do!" "Alr bestie i will drive you over there😇" "😈omg you are so nice i totally didnt expect that(heheh i dont need to pay for gas today (hes very evil))
#slasher x reader#slasher headcanons#billy lenz#billy lenz x reader#brahms heelsire#brahms x reader#micheal myers#micheal myers x reader#ghostface x reader#ghostface#hush headcanon#hush 2016#hush x reader#the man x reader
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Burnin’ a Hole Where I Lay (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader) (Omegaverse)
Gif by @troubleinapinksuit
Summary: In which you long ago decided that the standard Alpha and Omega Relationship wasn’t for you, but your best friend Elvis had other plans.
A/N: This is a backup post I made because I absolutely refuse to let this be a case of this one not ending up in the tags again. Based on this request. Semi-Relevant, as i’ve been writing, in my head I’ve been ranking each reader as to how likely they are to bite, and undoubtedly this is my most feral creation, too bad she exists in a world where it may as well be a whole ass love language. So as a quick note as to the dynamics of this Omegaverse, relationshipss are primarily judged on their ability to Breed so A/O are the preferred/seen as the standard, wtih B/O and B/B being seen as acceptable, as a result an A/B relationship is seen as unacceptable. Also Alpha Presentation is marked when they gain their unusually elongated canines, and later go into a rut, Omegas go into their first heat, and Betas essentially present by not presenting whatsoever. Knotting is a bit of a secret in this world, as it only occurs under pretty rare circumstances. Probably some other rules I’m spacing on right now, so feel free to ask if any questions arise. Also I fully acknowledge that there is no way they would be watching The Twilight Zone, but for the purposes of this story let’s pretend.
Warnings: First and foremost this is a Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of delusional and manipulative behavior. VERY dubious consent, (in which reader is a slave to their own desires of consciously not wanting, but their body uncosciously does want it). Set in an Omegaverse so expect the usual. Implied birth control tampering. Bit of a breeding kink implied. Sexual harassment masked as being especially touchy. Smut depicted, that includes penetrative sex (m/f), knotting, cockwarming, cumplay, marking, and a bit of blood play. Also depictions of Parental abandonment and neglect towards reader. Reader is not in a good place y’all and as a result has humor as an unhealthy coping mechanisms and self-depreciative attitude. Instances of reader being yelled at both by Elvis and another character. Best friends to lovers (albeit reluctantly) Please do not interact if you are under 18 years old.
Word Count: 21k (I need to be stopped)
My Masterlist
Denim jeans were a mistake, you think to yourself trying your best not to fan yourself in a very indecent place as you and your group walked back to the rest of the motorcade sitting idle on some backwoods route somewhere in the Florida panhandle. It was a nice cool 102 degrees this morning when the lot of you had taken off so by noon it was hotter than hades, which had been the perfect time for Hank Snow’s car to all but combust, forcing the entire convoy to a screeching halt. The Louisiana Hayride apparently operated the same as the Military: No man left behind.
You and your naturally-run-hot-thighs were having a wonderful time, walking down this stretch of road, along with the other non-talent people who were roped into making a snack and refreshments run at the nearest service station about a half-mile back. You dab yourself, praying you haven’t sweat the last of your face off, as that is the last thing you need right now. The last leg of the hayride tour was proving to be the most arduous as now home felt so close yet still so far off. And this hiccup further proved your theory that hell is to be found on tour.
Though upon seeing them not too far away from you now, your group does admittedly make this far more bearable. You’re not about to let them know that though. So before your thoughts get too chummy about them you set the brown bag from the service station down onto the grass and grab a hold of one of the bottles before you silently stalk forward. Some of them see you and are all too willing to comply when you hold a finger up to your lips in order to better sneak up on your mark. Your prey none the wiser to your dastardly scheme, gleefully tells the tale of seeing Big Boy Crudup as a boy, before it’s interrupted by a yelp and then a subsequent long string of curses as he’s taken by surprise by the cool kiss of the bottle to the back of his neck.
He whips around ready to unleash his fury on the poor soul who dared interrupt him, until you watch in real time as the fire in his eyes dissipate and turn softer upon seeing you giggling up a storm. “Goddamn Y/N, what was that for?” Elvis says exasperated, but doing a piss poor job of hiding his amusement as he wipes the now cool sweat off the back of his neck.
“Felt like it,” you shrug, handing him the bottle before you turn around to retrieve your bag where you had left it, and return bearing gifts.
“Say lil’ lady, you got anythin’ in that bag for some talented musicians?” Scotty asks.
Quick as a whip, you reply, “Sure do. Ya know any?” as you set the bag down on the hood of the car.
Elvis gives a full belly laugh at you, and a beat later, do the others follow suit.
“Did they only have orange soda?” Red remarks as he’s digging through the brown bag.
“No, but one of you mooks, and you know who you are,” you say, pointing to the lot of them. “Have not eaten a single goddamn fruit or vegetable since Texas, and this was the only way I figured I could get y’all to not die from scurvy.”
“Don’t be stupid Y/N,” Billy asserted, nervously trying to hide that he was the one you were talking about. “You only get that when you're out on the sea.”
“I thought you get it when you eat too much salt,” Scotty questions, unsure as to your words.
“No you get it from bad fish,” Red asserts, all the confidence of a man who has never been out to sea.
“You’re all wrong,” you say as you look through your bag trying to find a bottle opener. “You get it when you don’t listen to the Pharmacist’s daughter and eat a goddamn orange every once in a while. Now drink.”
You can see it clear as day as, simultaneously, all of their hackles raise at the thought of being ordered around by a Beta, so they do what they usually do when you do this: they look to Elvis.
Elvis, who has been able to open his own drink with his keys, stops drinking for a moment only to state, “You heard her.” And without a second thought they all sigh in defeat as they each grab a bottle for themselves.
“That’s what I thought,” you state, triumphantly, as you fail to locate anything close to a bottle opener. “You mind,” you say to Elvis, holding your bottle up to him. He gives a little smirk as he brings the still capped bottle up to his mouth.
As he uses his teeth as a makeshift bottle opener, you catch a glimpse at his pronounced canines, and you can’t help but absentmindedly swipe your tongue on that errant tooth in your own mouth. The one that tricked you into believing that you would present as an Alpha only to disappoint nearly everyone in your life.
You’d like to believe you’re past your admittedly childish envy of his status as an Alpha, still that does little to quell that funny feeling you get in the pit of your belly when you see him pop the cap off the bottle with ease.
“I meant use the keys dummy,” you say exasperatedly, swiping the orange drink out of his grasp. “You’re gonna crack a tooth like that one a these days.”
“Aww you do care,” he half-sings to you, and you can only roll your eyes and tell him to shush. He nonetheless listens and uses the keys for his second bottle.
While you languidly sip on the orange drink, that word circles your brain for a bit. Caring is not something you’re exactly used to being called. Years ago you were called protective or watchful, when the entire world was sure as to how you would present. Nowadays in spite of the fact that you doubt you’ve changed too much over the years, you’re called nurturing or motherly.
It’s actually part of the reason you even went on tour with them. You had initially refused Elvis’ invitation to join him on tour, figuring that now was as good as any to move out of the Lauderdale courts. He begged you to go with him and be his makeup assistant on tour as you had been for every show he’d performed up until then. You were reluctant to go due to not wanting to leave the good thing you had going with your job at the Cathouse salon but then Gladys had convinced you to go in order to prevent the boys from getting too buckwild on the road. After all her years of hospitality and refusing your rent payment, you figured this was the least you could do to compensate for your extended stay in her home.
The irony of which was not lost on you as there were many nights after the two of you had your nightly phone calls with her where you would have to kick Elvis out of your motel room to go “talk” to some little chicky that would be skulking around his room (More like you slapped him on the ass and told him ‘go get em tiger’... because you absolutely did do that a few times). You did this mostly to get him out of your hair for the night, but also because in those days you had no idea how long any of this would last and you wanted him to make the most of it. You knew better than most that all things are temporary, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the ride.
Your musings are interrupted by The Colonel’s speaker car announcing the issue had been fixed and everybody better be ready to leave in less than a minute because “Time is money.” Your group quickly packs up, making a beeline back into your respective vehicles.
You quickly check your makeup in the mirror (wouldn’t do for THE Elvis Presley’s makeup girl to look anything less than immaculate, even in this abominable heat, though he’s not exactly a THE yet) as Elvis gets behind the wheel making sure Scotty and Billy got into their car, while Red scurries into the backseat (he lost all privileges to shotgun after a legendary loss to you at a bowling alley back in Baton Rouge). And just like that you’re off to hightail it to the next venue, though not before you catch a particularly nasty side-eye from Hank as he passes your car. With all his huffing and puffing every time Elvis performed, you figured it would only be inevitable the Alpha would eventually burst and blow the lot of you all the way back to Memphis. Especially as his Beta boy kept glancing your way.
So imagine your surprise when by the end of the night Hank ended up leaving and Elvis had news that that Colonel fellow wanted to go into a partnership with him. You’re gone for all of five minutes to get funnel cake and suddenly Elvis is officially on the up and up, with a new manager and everything.
Elvis trusted everybody and you trusted nobody: it made you two the perfect team. It was your natural suspicion of others that had you look over The Colonel’s initial contract and when some of the wording wasn’t sitting right with you, you called in a favor with your former boss, Kitty, who was in turn owed a favor by a Lawyer friend of hers. Even with the favor in place, he ended up taking a good chunk of your savings, which in your book was fine, as it was mostly made up of the rent that the Presley’s refused to accept from you for the past few years. Your intervention would actually prevent Elvis from going 50/50 with The Colonel, and unknowingly save him from so many headaches later down the line.
The Beta Man didn’t quite make your skin crawl, but just about, and he made it no secret how little he cared for you or how much Elvis valued your opinion. Were it not for Elvis’ insistence that you’re the only make-up artist in the world that could achieve the right look for him, you think The Colonel would have elbowed you out early into his career.
And much to his chagrin you go everywhere with him; shows, movie sets, tv appearances, you name it. Those weeks when you had back to back shows with him and just as many public appearances to keep the momentum of his career going, those were the days where you found yourself longing for the far simpler days.
You honest to god miss 8th grade year. When the world made about as much sense as it could to a twelve year old. The days when you were called the Boldest Little Girl this side of Memphis you were called after you brazenly told your music teacher to shut up when she told the stuttering new kid that he had no future in music in front of the entire class.
After a long lecture on respect and Mrs. Whatsherface made sure your knuckles had a meeting with her ruler, you left her classroom only to be met with that same kid you defended turned around and talking to himself in an empty hallway. He still somehow managed to stutter even when no one was there.
"Th-th-thank y-you," he would say before taking a long steadying breath, before squaring his narrow shoulders and looking as though he were preparing for war.
"Who ya talkin' to?" you would say over his shoulder, and instead of words he would let out a very undignified shriek. "Sorry 'bout that. I'm Y/N."
"El-Elvis," he would say, looking down at his shoes. He’s all sandy hair and knobby knees, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen a boy with such long eyelashes before. He was just a bit shorter than you, and with the growth spurt you had recently your mama was hopeful that you would present soon.
"So Elvis… you new to Memphis?" you would say, after a painfully long pause, waiting for him to say something else.
"Ye-ye-yes," he said, still trying to find the secrets to the universe in his shoes. You can’t exactly pinpoint why but in that moment, he reminded you of a wet puppy. One that's just pathetic enough that you want to pick it up and take it home to dry it off and give it a snack.
So that's exactly what you do and you throw an arm around his shoulder, “C’mon, Elvis,” you say as the sandy-haired boy blushes up a storm. “I’m gonna show you around these parts.”
You end up taking him to some of your favorite places around your neck of the woods, and finish this little impromptu trip with a stop off at the neighborhood drugstore, where you ask him what his favorite soda is, and he nearly has a heart attack when you grab one from the cooler and walk out without even attempting to pay for it. Annoyed but willing to humor the boy, you walk up to the counter and tell your daddy you were taking them for you and your friend. You could see the bit of pride in his eyes as you took rather than asking for what you wanted. Elvis meanwhile seemed to be in awe of you. Though he quickly goes beet red when you show him how to open a bottle with your teeth and hand it to him.
“Y’know you don’t stutter when you sing,” you say as the two of you were making your way to his place in the lauderdale courts. “Why’s that?”
“I-I-I don’t know,” he said solemnly, sipping on the Pepsi you gave him. “I gu-guess, it’s cuz I-I-I’m good at it… or I th-thought I wa-was.” he says sadly.
“You do sound good,” you say matter-of-factly, and it makes you feel warm as he lights up at the compliment. “Not everyone’s gonna think so, but you do.”
“But some of ‘em are gonna hate it?” he blanches at the thought.
“Yeah, but that’s just the way a things ain’t it?”
“I-I guess…”
“Elvis trust me on this,” you state, more sure of yourself than any twelve year old has a right to be. “If people don’t like how you sound, it’s on them to not listen, because there are plenty more people who will love it.” Simple piece of advice really, and not applicable to all situations you recognize now, but with the way you watched him hunching in on himself to look smaller only for him to walk straighter into his home, it looked like it’s what he needed to hear.
Elvis would return to music class the next day with his own guitar in hand and sing his little heart out in front of the entire class. Mrs. Whatsherface still didn’t approve, stating how she “didn’t like how he sounded.” But he in turn looked her right in the eye and told her what you had told him, and you had never been more proud of another person in your entire life.
“Well Mrs. Wilson, you don’t gotta listen.” he asserts, more confidence in him than you’ve seen in all the time you’ve known him.
Your friendship however was really solidified after that jerk that sat behind you in class, Leon, cut Elvis guitar strings as a “joke” he claimed. Seeing Elvis' heartbroken expression and knowing his family’s financial status, awoke some latent protective streak within you that had you dip into your meager savings for a record player to buy two things that night: guitar strings and gum.
The next day you would give Elvis the replacement strings before school would start as well as an ominous suggestion to watch you during study hall. And he would watch as you proceeded to stick a wad of gum in your own hair and proceed to flip over the table behind you and try to knock Leon’s lights out. Nobody ever really made that connection that it had anything to do with what he did to Elvis’ guitar. No, all anybody ever knew was just that Leon sat behind you and someone had put gum in your hair, and you swung first and asked questions later.
Elvis would watch in utter awe of you as the teacher escorted you and Leon out of the class by your ears, and you would wink at him as you passed by, but you think the sentiment of it was lost considering the eye you used was the one already swelling shut. Unbeknownst to you at the time, Elvis would return home that night and let his Mama know he found the girl he was gonna marry.
You saved Elvis the embarrassment of having to be defended by a girl, and the focus was solely on how Leon had gotten beaten up by one. You would even cleverly and cruelly dub him “The Cowardly Leon,” for the rest of the year, and only let it die out after you needed to start flying under the radar once you had presented.
You cared a lot about justice back then because that’s what your father instilled in you. In fact the first thing he said to you when he came to pick you up, was asking whether or not you won. God he was so proud of you for standing up for yourself, and he ended up taking you out for ice cream. In retrospect not the best thing to teach a kid, to handle conflict with physical violence. Back then it was seen as blooming Alpha behavior of play-acting at being territorial and rough-housing. But once you presented as a “Beta” that same behavior that was seen as charming, became deviant or atypical of how a proper beta should act.
That year was the last one of simplicity you would ever experience, as you were comfortable in what your future would look like. Your daddy's side of the family came from a long, unbroken line of Alphas, both male and female. And it only felt inevitable that you would present as one, and one day you would inherit your family drug store, you would settle down with a nice omega partner, have a couple kids, who would also be Alphas, pass it on to them, so on and so forth. With his ever present, yet endearing stutter and his unabashed love for his mama, you had thought Elvis would be such a partner. And the way you sometimes caught him looking at you at times, you didn't think he would be entirely opposed to it either.
You were an only child and your daddy did his best to teach you long before you were even close to presenting how an Alpha acts. Lessons to always be bold and aggressive. To take what you want and how to fight for what is yours. The benefits of remaining stoic, and relying only on yourself. How to essentially be the perfect Alpha.
Lessons that would ultimately be wasted on you, you would learn that summer after 8th grade. It was just supposed to be a nice ordinary trip to visit Nana up in Nashville. First day, you would be slightly uncomfortable and very tired, nothing cool refreshments and a nap couldn’t help. Day two you felt a lot warmer that wasn’t the least bit helped by Nana’s brand new Air Conditioner. Day three you would spend covering the windows with blankets in order to better curl up into a corner on your bed with pieces of clothing you had taken from your parents. Day four there was no more denying what was happening as you cried into mama’s lap, feeling oddly betrayed by your own body as you waited for all of it to pass.
Your daddy put you on suppressants the second you were all finished and were back in Memphis. He was the only one whose disappointment in your presentation matched your own. Mama tried her best to convince you it wasn’t so bad to be an Omega, but the words feel hollow as you overhear her insistence to daddy that she wasn’t too old to try and get it “right” this time with another baby.
Nothing felt real those summer days, and by the time newly presented Alpha, Elvis Presley, strolled into the store, you officially accepted that you were in some sort of upside down world. You didn’t even really see him at first, you were so used to seeing him at less than eye-level to you, that it didn’t register to you to look up, and find the previously waifish Elvis Presely having been replaced by a taller, broader -and dare you say it, handsome- young man before you.
Of all the people you knew, you thought Elvis would be the one that you would be able to tell, but as the light softly glints off his newly descended canines you knew that could never be.
There’s a part of you that wants to tell him. To admit to someone, who will undoubtedly accept you as you are, but you catch sight of your parents staying on opposite sides of the store. A painful reminder that nothing is ever a sure thing.
“My what big teeth you have,” you instead remark as you lean against the counter.
“Heya sweetheart,” he says, propping an elbow on to the counter, though not without some awkwardness as he catches your magazine and slides forward a little before catching himself.
“Sweetheart? What is that about?” You ask, acting dumb and hoping you’re wrong.
He grins even wider at that
“Oh yeah,” you say, trying to be as non-chalant as you possibly could be. You hook your pinky into the corner of your mouth to show him the normal canine you have. He perks up ever so slightly as he sees it, only to deflate once he hears your muffled “Beta.”
“O-oh… oh, ummm…” he stutters, unsure of what to say to you.
“Disappointed? So’s my daddy,” you say flippantly.
“N-no it ain’t that,” he stutters. “It’s just I-I… well I…”
“Was expecting something else?” you finish for him. “You and me both buddy,”
“...Y-yeah umm….” he says glancing down between you and the floor as though waiting for the sike.
“C’mon, don’t be upset for my sake, you’re an Alpha now, cream of the crop and all that,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too jealous. You hand him a Pepsi on the house and call for the next customer knowing you’re gonna have to be on inventory later so you’re daddy won’t notice it missing.
In short order by the start of your freshman year you would learn three awful things. First, that while the state of Tennessee’s single bond and marriage laws were still in place, they do make an exception for Alpha business owners who wish to pass down their legacy to an Alpha Child. Secondly, that your daddy was aware of this exception because he had done it once before, as you and your mama were his second attempt at an alpha child, after his first born son presented as an omega. Third, the reason you had a babysitter until you were fourteen, was because your daddy apparently needed a backup for his backup.
That is how you found yourself moving all of your belongings into the Lauderdale Courts, where you would find a familiar face. He was surprised to see you there, especially with the load of boxes behind you, but he wasn’t about to let your surly demeanor get in the way of him rolling out the welcome wagon for you and your Mama.
Elvis is not one to be ignored, and you find it amusing that he was now the one that more or less bullied you into doing things. And as loath as you are to admit it he more or less did become somewhat of a protector to you when Leon tried to get his licks back. It is a strange reversal, but not a wholly unwelcome one. You do at least try to find the comedy that is the tragedy of your life now.
Your mama was with you, but you could hardly say she was present anymore. The days she wasn’t drinking herself into a stupor, were the days she was cursing your father’s name and long-winded rants about how he stole the best years of her life. For all the passion and fury in her words, they were hollow, as instead of getting on suppressants to combat her heats, she instead went back to him every single time to take care of her. There would be times you would come home from school only to find your place empty, cash in an envelope on the table, nary a note in sight, and you would spend the week with a neighbor.
You try to justify it in your head with the fact that Mated Omegas could die if they go into heat without their Alpha, but that was exactly what suppressants were made for. They weren’t true mates so there should be no problem for her alone to break the bond, and yet like clockwork every three months she would be gone for the entire week, and wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes for about the next two weeks following that.
You hated those days when you would come back to the apartment only to find her missing, that ominous pink dot on the calendar, and some money left in an envelope for you to take care of yourself for the week. Gladys Presley didn’t even hesitate in offering you a place to stay so you wouldn’t be alone, but as welcoming and kind as the Presley’s were to you during those weeks you felt humiliated not only for having to rely on their hospitality, but also the reason why.
You knew where exactly she went. Everyone in the Lauderdale Courts- hell, everyone in Memphis- knew where she went, as those were the same weeks that your father and his new wife would disappear off the face of the Earth. All those pitiful looks and derisive snorts when you walked by felt the same, they said “oh look, there’s the little unwanted girl.” Your mother went from wife to glorified mistress in a matter of months, and people shaped their own opinions on you solely around that.
You got by though, especially after you were able to get a part time job in Sophmore year. Kitty LeBlanc is perhaps the most feared Alphas this side of Memphis. She and her wife, Jeanie, have been running the Cathouse Beauty Salon, for the last twenty or so years, the place to go when you’re looking to get done up for a date night or a divorce. It’s well known in these parts that any Omegas having trouble with their Alphas need only come to Kitty to get them to start doing right by them. So suffice to say, she was furious at what your daddy did to you, and the only thing stopping her from launching a full scale whisper campaign against your daddy’s store, is that you and your mama were still financially dependent on him and so didn’t want to leave him completely destitute.
But you also had the underlying reason that you needed him to stay open so you could still get the suppressants you needed. They were created way back when during war times, to prevent mated omegas from dying due to their Alphas being gone so long, and nowadays they are only prescribed to mated Omegas under the most extreme of circumstances. Legally you’re not supposed to be on them whatsoever, but while normally your father being a pharmacist had few perks, this was absolutely one of them.
It’s bad enough he’s known for having more or less abandoned an Omega Partner, but it would have absolutely devastated him, socially and legally, if it had gotten out that he had abandoned not one but two Omega children of his. So rather than having that be his reputation he made everyone believe that you in fact were a Beta. And you’re fine with this, because you already push it by acting like an Alpha when you’re known as a Beta, you doubt you’ll be tolerated anymore if it comes out that you’re an Omega.
Kitty would respect your choice and instead offered you a job, mostly sweeping the floors and taking out the trash after school, for a little extra cash on the side. That’s where your interest in makeup first began, seeing how someone could be having the worst day of their lives, but their appearance exhibiting none of that.
“Think of it like a mask,” Kitty would explain to you as you attempted eyeliner for the first time. “You’re only showing the world what you want them to see.”
High school was a bit of a blur, and before you know it you’re in your Senior year. Prom was something you had been looking forward to. You had saved up all your money from the Cathouse to buy a beautiful red dress, had been asked out by a nice Beta boy from your art class, and Kitty promised you the full salon treatment for such a special occasion. Really everything was looking up with the only hitch being how weird Elvis had gotten when you told him about your plans for the evening.
After the talent show (where you almost resorted to pushing him onto the stage), Elvis certainly wasn’t without options, but he still insisted on going Stag with you and the rest of your friends for Prom. Those plans didn’t change with your news but he clearly seemed to have become grumpier as of late.
But you didn’t pay it any mind, as afterall the shit you’d been through up until that point, was one night really too much to ask for. Evidently it was, because as you were getting into David’s car, you realized you had forgotten the evening gloves your mama was letting you borrow, and you ran back into the building only to be met with your mother with a suitcase in hand as she set down an envelope on the small dining table.
You vividly remember how she would look up at you with only the slightest hint of guilt in her eyes, before her expression steels itself with a calm demeanor, as she gives you a cool smile, places the envelope in your hand with a friendly pat, and then she walked out the door without even a glance back.
You would never see her again.
To My Darling Daughter,
I’m sorry for what I have to do, but you must understand that while this is a choice, it’s not an easy one.
If you can take comfort in anything, know that it is your strength and resiliency and seeing you as bold as you are for what you are has inspired me to take control of my own life. I’ve met a Beta man who has promised me a better life away from this place. My only regret is that I can’t bring you with me.
But I know for a fact that you, unlike me, can and will survive on your own.
I Love You So Much,
Mama
You had to read her letter several times, not fully believing the words before you. You recognize that there was a part of you that had wanted this for years. For her to run far and fast from your father, but you had just always assumed she would’ve taken you as well.
You hardly have time to process that as you hear David’s horn honking out at the front. No, instead of sitting with your feelings about the matter, you fix your makeup, grab the gloves, and walk out to the powder blue chevy. After David offers whatever was in the flask he swiped from his daddy, the entire dance turns into a haze, with the only evidence that you were even there being the commemorative photo and the blisters you feel forming on your feet.
“Say Y/N, my folks are outta town this weekend.” David says idly as you’re walking out of the school gymnasium.
“That’s nice,” you slur, not really having heard a word he said, trying hard not to fall on your face as you stumble in your kitten heels.
“So why don’t we head back to my place?” He asks practically buzzing with anticipation.
“Sure fine,” you sigh apathetically, understanding what he’s implying, and going mostly because the prospect of going back to an empty apartment is far more terrifying to you.
You can see the excitement on the Beta boy's face grow until he looks past you and you watch as the blood-drains from his face. “There you are Y/N,” you hear from a strained yet distinct voice behind you. You turn around only to see Elvis’ icy blue eyes somehow burning holes into your date, as he says through gritted teeth. “Your mama made me promise to get you home early.”
You can hardly be faulted for your almost knee-jerk reaction at Elvis’ blatant- well to you-lie: you burst into a near hysterical fit of laughter, to the point tears are streaming down your face. You laugh a little too hard and a little too long at a joke neither boy seems to understand, that David, by the time you’re mostly done, is long gone. It doesn’t matter though, because in your drunken state your thoughts turn to how embarrassed Elvis is going to be when he takes you home and realizes he got caught in a lie, because you don’t have a Mama anymore.
As you’re stumbling to Elvis’ car, he stops you in your tracks, “Y/N, you alright there?” he breathes and you see his nose flares for a moment, no doubt smelling whatever the hell was in that flask. “What did he do?” He hisses, with murder in his eyes.
“Oh dontcha worry about ole’ Davey over there,” you dismiss, as you grip onto one of his forearms to keep yourself standing (when did they get so big?). “How ‘boutchu take me back home because… I. Gotta. Surprise. For. You.” You say, punctuating your last few words, tapping his nose each time. You can see his eyes widen and his adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows nervously, before he quietly agrees.
He gets you back into his daddy’s car seemingly content to have gotten you away from your date, until you’re on the road, and in a fit of… grief… madness… something, you open the window and let one of the evening gloves your mother had let you borrow fly out into the night.
“Ain’t those your mama’s?” He asks, slightly perturbed at your seeming indifference, when you’re usually so careful with your clothes.
“Mmm-hmm,” you hum as you let its twin also fly out. The rest of the ride back to the Lauderdale Courts was filled with a thick silence, as you were upset, and Elvis could tell you were upset, yet neither one of you knew how to address it, so you both remained quiet.
Elvis gets you into the building and in repayment for his act of chivalry, you didn’t vomit all over his rented suit. No, instead you bolt into your apartment, that you had left unlocked for your mama without another word. After brushing the taste of bile and fruit punch out of your mouth, you would find him sitting on your couch with that damn letter in his hands.
It is at that moment where you enter and you see the heartbreak and pity in his eyes for you, did you finally recognize that this wasn’t as funny as you thought it would be. No, in fact it leaves you with a hollow feeling inside of you, seeing him that way, but instead of dealing with that you choose to laugh at the situation.
You laugh because otherwise you’ll cry.
“Tell me Presley,” you joke with him. “You make it a habit of reading through other people’s mail?”
“Y/N, I-I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” he would say, tears welling in his eyes for you.
“Well we got that in common,” you say, wishing to be numb to the whole world by this point.
“I-I just don’t understand wh-why she would do somethin’ like this,” he states, genuinely unbelieving that a mother could do something like this. You’re confused for a different reason, as you can’t quite find the logic in leaving you behind when she was so close to being able to do so legally after you had graduated.
Guess she just wanted out that bad.
“Oh I know why,” you stated as you threw off your shoes and tossed your legs over his lap. “I’m unlovable,” you say flippantly, while shrugging your shoulders. You weren’t seeking his pity nor his comfort. In your mind you were simply stating a fact. The same way you would state that the sky is blue or that water is wet, Y/N is unlovable. How could you not be, as both people that were all but hard-wired to do so, want nothing to do with you?
You see so many emotions pass through his face at your statement. Until he throws his arms around you and brings you as close as possible to him. “You’re not unlovable,” he declares.
“No I am,” you say, resolved to your fate. “I just need to accept that.”
“You’re not unlovable, Y/N,” he blubbers a bit, tears in his eyes, holding your face in his hands. “Because I lo-”
You quickly slap your hand over his mouth, shushing him, truly not wanting to hear the next words to come out. You’re not an idiot, you remember the way he would look at you before either of you presented, it’s the same way he looks at you now, when he thinks you’re not paying attention. But you know, as did he you suspect, that if either one of you were to ever verbally acknowledge it, everything would be ruined.
It’s not like you haven’t thought about it before. Nothing would be wrong considering you are actually an Omega, and anybody would tell you being close friends with an Alpha would eventually lead to this. But one thing throws a wrench into this idea: the fact that the thought of being bonded to an Alpha, even Elvis, terrifies you to your core.
You’ve seen how wrong those relationships could go, what happens to the omega and how the Alpha could get out scott free. You know yourself well enough to recognize that you are far too willful and bold to make for a good wife for an Alpha when most would prefer a more demure, submissive mate. Add in how apparently easy you are to leave behind, you doubt your odds of having the ideal life for an Omega look too good.
In your quieter moments you would wonder who you were supposed to be. If you hadn’t been raised with the expectation that you were going to be an Alpha would you have actually exhibited the traits that go with being an Omega. Or would you have still ended up the same way? Neither scenario fills you with comfort.
You try not to dwell on these thoughts too long, as afterall, as far as Elvis knows, being with you like that is impossible. Besides you and Elvis have a good thing going on right now and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.
You’ll later blame the alcohol for what had happened next, as you sat next to him, doing your best to stop crying, in spite of your feelings of being unwanted and unloved. But you’re somewhat comforted by Elvis being so close to you, and you liken your next actions as some latent part of your omega brain trying to compensate for your crippling loneliness that night by trying to start something with the nearest Alpha, who just so happened to be your best friend.
Your face buried in his neck, you could feel yourself steady the longer you breathed in his heady scent of leather and rose water, disparate yet no less intoxicating, all tied to something uniquely him. Something you had never really noticed before, given that the suppressants did a good job of dampening your smell capabilities, but being so close to him now, you begin to understand why the other omegas would get giddy moments before he walked into a room.
You remember just every breath filling you with a sense of comfort and warmth, and simply wanting to be as close to its source as possible. His scent reminded you of burrowing yourself in warm blankets on a cold morning or taking the first sip of hot cocoa on a frigid night, that feeling of being so comfortable in your discomfort that you don’t even recognize what it was until you felt the slightest bit of relief from it.
Wanting to further immerse yourself in that scent, you find yourself quickly going from leaning on him, to full-on straddling him, all so that you could better nuzzle your face into his neck. Though from the rumbling in his chest he didn’t seem to mind your invasion of his space too much. In fact he had followed suit by wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his nose into your neck.
Though his discontented snarls tell you he’s apparently having a hard time. As a “Beta” you hardly even register as an option for him, the suppressants apparently making your scent so subtle, you’re about as appealing as a houseplant to him. You on the other hand were practically getting drunk on what little scent was making its way through to you.
So drunk were you in fact that you didn’t realize what you were doing with your hips until he let out a strained groan that reverberated back onto your neck. You don’t exactly know where your head was at, you just remember that he smelled so good and felt even better against your burning core, which is why you felt little shame as you continued to grind into him, the salacious act being hidden from your view by your skirt.
Your eyes meet his and you’re not exactly sure who leans in first, just that somebody did. But almost like magic, that tentative and nervous brushing of your lips against his, broke you from your spell, and made you realize what exactly you were doing.
You tear yourself away from him, nearly cracking your head on the low table as you land on your rear in front of the couch. Horrifyingly you’re now put at eye-level with his legs where you see something tenting the front of his pants. You take advantage of his utterly bell-rung state as you would pathetically crawl away from him and into your own tiny bedroom, to get away from this confusing and frankly terrifying situation.
There’s no lock to speak of so you block the door with your own body, crying into your hands, praying that he sees himself out, though like usual your wishes go unheard.
“Y/N?” You hear from the last person you want to deal with, knock at your door. His voice quivering as though he’s close to tears.
You sob harder.
“Y/N, I’m beggin’ ya here. Please talk to me,” he says, sounding genuinely distraught.
“Go away, Elvis!” You beg through your blubbering. This back and forth continues for a while until your stubborn nature prevails, and you’re left alone.
And all is right in the world.
You would wake up with a god-awful crick in your neck, and feeling unpleasantly feverish beyond belief. You quickly take your suppressants as you have done religiously since you had started on them, and you would spend the day barricaded in your room waiting for your fever to cool down.
Come Monday, Elvis wouldn’t be in school, and in spite of the fact he was the last person you wanted to see, you were given the task of passing along his school work to him. You were no stranger within the Presley household, oftentimes spending the weeks your mother was in heat with them, as Gladys couldn’t stand the thought of you all alone in that apartment. So it was surprising to say the least when she was the one to bar you from entering the door.
“Sweetheart,” she sighs, looking tiredly between you and the apartment behind her. “Elvis is umm… a bit… sick, and he won’t be fit for seein’ for… a few more days.” The blush on her face and the embarrassment in her voice tell you exactly what exactly is happening to him. You quickly dismiss yourself back to your empty apartment.
Well that at least explained why he let you do… that. He was a young Alpha going into his first Rut, he probably would have done the same with a box of cracker jacks if it promised him a good time. It meant nothing, so you were going to treat it like that.
It made more sense than the alternative of your “mini-heat” sending him into a rut. Afterall everybody knows that only true mates are capable of doing that. Most mated couples take a few cycles in order to sync up properly, while in contrast true mates can almost immediately trigger the other's time just by being in the same vicinity while going through theirs. You’ve also heard rumors of something else happening with those couples, but you’ve never bothered to dive too deep into that, and all you know is that it had something to do with how they almost always get pregnant during their first cycle.
True Mates are just rare enough to be special, but happen frequently enough that everybody at least knows one pair. It felt like every single Omega you met dreamed of finding their true mate regardless of how unlikely it is to happen. It also had all the hallmarks of being devastatingly romantic, with the idea that these are the only bonds that are truly unbreakable and that both parties could potentially die without the other, rather than just the Omega.
In theory it should sate your worries about being left by an Alpha, but it does little to help, as the idea scares the shit out of you. The idea that regardless of your own wishes to never be mated to an alpha, some force has apparently fated you to be with someone. Add to the fact that they have yet to make suppressants sufficiently strong enough to quell an omega with a true mate because apparently the bond is that strong, and all you see is a disaster waiting to happen.
You spend the next week trying to figure out the logistics of living on your own. You know Graduation is roughly a month away and without your mother to renew the lease or your father not willing to pay past his legal obligation, you’re going to be homeless. You can chance it with the foster system you suppose if you declare yourself an unaccompanied Omega, but more than likely they’ll send you back with your father, and he’ll more than likely hock you off to the first Alpha that gives you a second glance.
By the end of the week you’ve accepted that your best option for the time being is hoping that Kitty is kind enough to allow you to stay in the storage closet while you get your full salon training. If you sell everything in the apartment and by the time you're making full salary you may just be able to afford a room in a girl’s boarding house. That is until Gladys Presley, after three days of you dancing around the question of “Where’s your Mama, sweetheart?” finally sat you down and refused to hear any more excuses, and you had to quietly admit how you didn’t know.
Gladys is surely a force to be reckoned with as within an hour of your solemn confession she has you at her table with a warm meal, her couch already set up, and the landlord agreeing to forward you the last two months of payment your father is supposed to pay for rent. But what she can’t fix is the fact that you are suspiciously not making eye contact with Elvis.
You had insisted on making yourself useful and helped Gladys clean up afterwards, but once she and Vernon called it a night, you knew there was no getting around it anymore. At around midnight do you hear Elvis shuffle into the living room, clearly hesitant to have this conversation as well.
“You up?”
“No.”
That gets a short huff out of him before he plants himself on the opposite side of the couch as you, essentially sitting on your feet. The room is too dark to really see him, but the slight shaking in his leg and constant shifting tell you he’s just as uncomfortable as you are.
“Elvis about Prom ni-”
“Are you really a Beta?” he cuts you off.
In spite of the darkness within the room, you still try to school your expression to one of confusion rather than shock. “What kind of question is that?” you say, managing to sound tiredly exasperated with him, while your heart is going a mile a minute. “Of course I’m a Beta, why’d ya think I wasn’t?”
“It’s just…” he pauses. “That night-”
“The night nothing happened.”
“Y/N,” he says severely, a tone he has never in his life used with you. “I need an honest answer here.”
You think about your next words carefully. As far as you know Alpha’s can’t literally sniff out lies, nor do you have any reason to believe he can hear some sort of minute difference between a lie and a truth.
For a brief moment you contemplate being totally honest with him, but you quickly dismiss that notion when you shift slightly and feel the hard edge of the couch armrest. Your situation is far too precarious to risk it on a gamble that he may want you, when if anything this past month has proven how unwanted you are.
“Elvis… you’re my best friend,” you state, as this much is true. “Do you really think I would lie to you about something like this?” you say, too cowardly to lie through your teeth and say no, instead you put it on him as to whether he believes you would do such a thing to your best friend.
He sighs in defeat, believing you wouldn’t invoke your relationship on a lie this big. “No… No, you’re right,” though you can hear the slightest quiver in his voice. “It-it’s just bad luck, that all that happened in the same night.”
“Exactly,” you say relieved that he came to the same conclusion that you did about that night. “E, I-I didn’t get a chance to say this yet but… thank you.”
“For what?”
“For taking me in,” you sigh, not a fan of the coy act.
“It was nothin’ Darlin’,” he says though you can hear him relax a bit at that. “Mama wasn’t ‘bouta let that stand.”
“Well then thanks for nothing Presley,” you say with a grin.
He laughs at that, and says “C’mere you,” as he brings you in close for a hug. You do notice as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, and pointedly takes an extra long whiff of your neck. He’s undoubtedly trying one last ditch effort to prove his theory right only to find nothing.
“But I hope you can accept that I’m your mama’s favorite now,” you say as seriously as you could to break the tension, in an effort to ignore what he just did.
He pauses at that before pushing your face back into the pillow and saying around a smile, “alright, go back to sleep, you.”
Those months following your graduation, there was something so simple about those days, almost idyllic, in an odd way. You would be the first up in the household, so it was on you to push Elvis out of bed, take care of breakfast and lunch for the both of you. He would drive you to work in his company truck listening to the early morning radio and you would muse that it would only be a matter of time before the two of you would be hearing him. He would always get red in the ears at that and drop you off at the salon. He would occasionally drop in for lunch and afterwards the two of you would hit up Beale street for a while before heading home. Have dinner with his folks, go to bed, repeat all of that the next day.
You would often practice your makeup skills on him when Gladys was unavailable, giving you a better understanding as to how to not only put makeup on someone else, but how to also highlight a person’s best features. And working so close on him, did you realize that Elvis had many. In return for your “experimentation,” you would go to every single performance of his as support which evolved into doing makeup for him. Oftentimes you’re the last person he talks to before he gets on stage, as you would often help him clean himself up when he got too in his head about the whole thing, but also the first one to greet him once he got off the stage.
Though as the years went on and performing became more routine, and you find yourself in the midst of show business alongside him. Traveling the country and working on movie sets are never things you ever expected to happen, even in the days when you had your life set out before you.
Those days seem so far away now, as though they were a dream of a different life. But now you were in a new era, the “New Elvis” era, which would be one of the worst you ever had the displeasure of witnessing. It was like watching a Peacock be plucked and be told to still be just as eye-catching, and you let the Colonel know as much. You thought it was bad enough having to see him dressed in tails, but you knew the disaster that was headed your way the moment you saw that damn dog being rolled on stage with him.
When they moved into Graceland, the Presley’s took you along with them, and even tried to offer you a room on the top floor, the one specifically designated for family. It was one of the few times you and the Colonel were on the same page about… anything really, as you were vehemently against the initial room he offered you and instead took a moderately sized room on the first floor. You did this as you know that keeping some distance between you and them will make it hurt a lot less when they inevitably drop you.
Elvis Presley being in your bed is not an unusual experience, something you had gotten used to way back when your bed was the Presley’s couch, and he made it a habit of letting himself in as he pleased in your room at Graceland. So you hardly blink when you wake up to him laying next to you in the middle of the night. Or rather you do several times in order to get all the sleep out of your eyes and try to get a grip of your bearings as you suddenly awaken to a bed full of rockstar.
You had watched him storm out earlier, all passion and fury at the world that wants different and contradictory things from him all at once. Now all that fire has seemingly been extinguished as he lies next to you hands on his stomach, voice quiet and unsure of himself as he asks “You awake Y/N?” imperceptible through the non-existent lighting in the room.
“No.”
He huffs at you, and you can almost hear the smile on his lips, before the room turns solemn once more. And you give a big tear-welling yawn, but you’re still willing to help him through his identity crisis.
“Sweetheart, be honest with me,” he says into the inky darkness. “This ‘New Elvis” thing… ya’ think it’s a mistake?”
“Yes” you answer without missing a beat. You were never one to mince words for him and you’re not about to start now. “Now answer me this: is your name Frank?”
“No,” he answers confused.
“Is your name Bill?”
“No.”
“Is your name Buddy?”
“Y/N, what the hell are ya gettin’ at?”
“What I’m getting at is if they wanted a old crooner in a boring suit, they woulda gotten Frank Sinatra. They wanted clean sanitized rock n’ roll, they woulda gotten Bill Haley. If they had wanted someone popular but not so controversial, they woulda gotten Buddy Holly.” You say, impassioned as you are sleepy, hoping you’re making even a lick of sense to him. “They didn’t get any of them. But you know who they asked to be there?”
“Me?”
“Who?”
He chuckles before saying, “Elvis Presley.”
“That’s right,” you say, poking his chest. “They want you E, controversy and all, because you know what, ain’t nobody better at getting asses in seats and panties on the floor.”
“Y/N!” he exclaims, scandalized and, you can just imagine, red in the face.
“It’s true though,” you continue. “Being controversial these days hardly makes a difference anymore.”
“How’d ya figure that?”
“Elvis…” you say solemnly. “To my face people shake their heads and click their tongues as to what my daddy did to me and my mama. That doesn’t stop them from patronizing his store and giving him their money to better support his new family.” You feel him give a comforting rub on your shoulder. “Look what I’m trying to say is that, when what you give is good enough, people will overlook just about everything else. And trust me what you sell… sells.” You pause when you feel something hard beside your feet. “Are you wearing your shoes in my bed?”
“...maybe?”
“Get outta here weirdo,” you huff annoyed at his antics, and use all of your might to push him out.
“Alright, alright,” he says, acquiescing and getting out of your bed. “Guess I’ll head to that diner you love all by myself.” You can almost hear the smirk when his statement gets the pause he was looking for.
“You’re a cruel, cruel man Elvis Presley,” you declare. “Give me 20 minutes.”
The next day at Russwood Park, you’re putting the final touches on him before he gets on stage. You can still see the tiniest bit of conflict still on his face so you tickle his nose with your makeup brush to get his attention. “Remember. They don’t like how it sounds…” you trail off.
“They don’t gotta listen.” he finishes, apparently remembering your bit of 12 year old wisdom. Once he got on stage, he would take your advice, but the next time he would crawl back into your bed would be the night he got his draft notice.
None of you were exactly surprised, as everybody had known to expect it sooner rather than later, especially given that Elvis had slowly and steadily become one of the most controversial singers in the country. However the days immediately following it were some of the bleakest you’ve ever experienced.
With The Colonel’s whole rebranding spiel, and how much trouble he got in after Russwood Park, the fresh start idea isn’t terrible at this point, but you wish you could have gotten out easier. As cold as it sounds to say, you now saw the writing on the wall. You’re fully aware of the fact that, of his crew, his make-up girl is on the lowest of priorities. Regardless of how fond he is of you, he is undoubtedly about to be put under a microscope and whether he realizes it or not, he’s about to embark on a new chapter of his life, a chapter that more than likely doesn’t include you.
You want to do your best to put on a brave face for him, the last thing you want to do is add to his stress. And besides it isn’t like you ever truly believed that this was in any way permanent. As life had taught you that nothing is permanent, so why would living with the Presley’s be any different?
It’s just a hard fact of your life that people inevitably get tired of you, and you get left behind for something better. As fun as it’s been with Elvis and his family, never once did you trick yourself into believing that this is how it would be forever. Maybe in those simpler days of practicing makeup on him in the bathroom and lunches in the bed of his company pick up truck… maybe. But as Elvis’ star burned brighter, you were snapped back to reality at how temporary and tenuous your situation was. The same way Elvis outgrew Lauderdale courts, he would outgrow you.
What would he even need his make-up girl for while he’s deployed? The Colonel made it clear he’s not to perform while he’s enlisted, and you doubt wearing makeup will do him any favors in the barracks. And besides, Omegas are unable to even get a passport in Tennessee without explicit permission from their designated Alpha, who in your case, would still be your father.
The father whom you interact with very little these days, the last time being almost a year ago and that was simply to stock up on a year's worth of suppressants. Your father whose business is not seeing as many customers these days because as far as Kitty knows, you don’t need anything from him any more.
Bright side of this is that at the very least you’re not without options this time around. Kitty had made it loud and clear that you’ll always have a place at the Cathouse, and hell you have enough savings to see you through the next few years in Memphis if you simply wanted to wait out his time in the army. But neither seemed appealing to you, as either way your future would still rely on others' good will.
When Elvis had started making movies, of course he dragged you along for the ride up there. You were still the only one he trusted to do his makeup and as a result the studio ended up giving you a crash course as to how to do movie makeup, which you learned was a completely different beast to stage makeup, as you now had to toe the fine line of subtlety. Regardless of all that you did end up making a pretty important discovery, in regard to potential future prospects for yourself. You learned that in the movie making business, Betas are like gold in Hollywood especially for the more practical and technical parts of movie making. This is all due in part to the fact of their overall lack of appeal to Alpha actors, as well as not being as distracting for Omega ones either, not to mention they are far more reliable as they don’t have to worry about pesky heats or ruts.
You also learned that up in Hollywood, you could get access to suppressants about as easily as you could get your hands on a packet of M&M’s, as unlike in Tennessee you didn’t need to be mated in order to gain access to them. As a result, you discovered there were more than a few behind the scenes hands who were also Omegas that masqueraded as Betas in order to get work on the sets, doing wonders to make you feel less out of place there.
Janet, the head of the make-up department Paramount, was initially reluctant to have you aboard but was nonetheless impressed with your ability to pick up the craft as quickly as you did. You had kept her phone number from way back when and decided that now would be a good time to take her up on that job offer. She was ecstatic to bring you onboard but the hiring process being what it is you still technically need to be recommended by former employers.
“You sure I can’t sway you to come back here,” Kitty says as she’s signing the bottom of the letter. The sentimental part of yourself that you had believed you had smothered long ago is screaming yes in your head, not wanting to leave everything you ever knew in Memphis, but the pragmatic part of you knew that your days here are numbered.
You want to be able to bury yourself in her chest and tell her how she’s been like a parent to you all these years. To thank her for all the years she’s cared for you in whatever way she could, taught you your trade that has proven invaluable, steered you in the right direction. But all of that feels too final for your liking, and instead you remark “Unless you got a rich Beta man in the back, then no dice,” all the while giving a casual shrug.
“Well at least you ain’t followin’ that good for nothin’ boy across the world,” she sighs in relief. Kitty was not a fan of Elvis, she made no secret about it, less so when you turned in your resignation to be his makeup assistant for the Louisiana Hayride. Your best guess as to the animosity is how eerily similar they are when you really pay attention. The same way Kitty could give a single look to any fellow Alpha she had ever met, and make them act right, Elvis could do the same, except make them act however he liked. They’re the type of people that just magnetically attract those around them.
But you also think that it is also on the principle that she dislikes any and all partners her children bring around… Which is ridiculous because everybody knows it’s impossible.
You decide not to waste the trip into town and start heading toward your least favorite place in Memphis. You only make this trip once a year anymore, and you’re hoping to make this as quick and painless as possible. But as the little shop below your old home comes into view, do you recognize what a tall order that is.
“What in the hell is this?” your father seethes as you approach the counter, throwing down a newspaper before you. You see yourself wide-eyed looking into a camera with Elvis leading you by the hand into the car after Russwood Park. The draft notice had left the paper's tongues wagging and apparently of all the photos of him that have been printed, it was just your luck that this one was apparently the one most worthy of being reprinted.
Rather than react with the same guilt or shame that any normal Omega would have when confronted by their father as to why they were seen with perhaps the most controversial Alpha in America, you idly pick up and open a candy bar that was sitting at the front.
“A newspaper,” you say with a mouthful of Baby Ruth. “Can I have what I came here for now?” He throws the pages at you, but if you learned anything from him, it is that flinching earns you nothing but letting the other person know you’re scared of them.
“Don’t be cute with me girl,” he spits that last part as though you were a stranger and not his daughter. “Why the hell do I find out like this you’re living with that boy?”
“You didn’t care a single goddamn bit where I was livin’ before, why’s it matter now?”
“It matters because what you’ve been doin’ makes me look like a bad father lettin’ my own daughter run around with that… that…” he says snapping his fingers, searching for the right word.
“Degenerate?” you finish for him, as it is the most common insult you’ve lobbed Elvis’ way.
“Don’t interrupt me,” he seethes, a rumble emanating from his chest, but after being surrounded by the likes of Elvis and Kitty, this does absolutely nothing for you, and you wonder how anybody has ever been intimidated by this man.
“Well good news, the only reason you look like a bad father, is because you are a bad father,” you tell him with a smile on your face. “No one thinks of you enough to bother telling lies about you.”
“Outta the kindness of my heart, I been footin’ the bill for these,” he holds up the bag for emphasis. “Only to find out you've been holdin’ out on me.”
“Mmm-hmm, of course that’s what this is about,” a smirk on your face, figuring ou what has got him so worked up. “Why you so worried about money? Saving up for your next attempt at an Alpha kid that’s not gonna happen?”
“Don’t think I don’t know about you and that vicious bitch of a woman, you been costin’ me more money than what these pills are worth for years,” he spits.
“Pills you put me on,” you accuse. The argument ceases almost immediately when you hear the tell-tale ring of the bell at the front of the shop.
“You gonna pay me what I’m owed, or no?”
You want to refuse on principle alone, but you’re so close to being free from all of it, so you don't want to risk it so soon. But you know the kind of trouble something like that could dredge up for you specifically. So it’s with a heavy heart that you agree to pay for them once you get paid for the next movie.
But if your father is good at one thing, it’s believing in his own myth of being the big tough, and in charge Alpha. That you as an Omega will have no choice but to obey his will, even as he hands over the very tool that negates his influence over you.
You have no intention of ever paying him a single goddamn cent of any of it. You’re only on them because of him, and if he wants to scream and holler about how you owe him money, but he won’t be able to do a damn thing, lest he out himself as well.
Besides, you'll be long gone by the time he wises up to the fact that you won’t be paying.
Now there’s only one more letter you need, and it’s not as easy as you would have hoped for. After getting your medicine, you take a few days to really pluck up the courage to do so. He’s been a lot testier these last few days, as was to be expected considering the circumstances.
If all goes well you’ll be able to work on this final movie together with him, before you part ways, and leave with the crew back to California. If not… well you’ll probably just start making your trip far earlier than expected.
You find him in the upstairs office, looking through mail, a stony expression on his face, but it lightens considerably when he sees you with the food Gladys has sent you up with. Well, more like you insisted on taking it up as you’ve been hoping to catch him in a good mood, as there are few things on this Earth that put him in a better one than his mama’s cooking.
“Sorry to bother you E,”
“Ain’t no bother,” he insists, moving some papers out of view to make way for the dish. “I’m tryin’ to get a head count for how big a house I need on base in Texas.”
“How many you at now?”
“Including you? 7,” he says casually, taking a bite out of his food.
“Why would you include me?” You say genuinely confused.
He pauses at that, positively shocked by your response, until a grins splits his face and he gives a short huff of a laugh. “You almost had me there, Y/N,” he chuckles at your apparent antics, settling back into his affable disposition.
You swallow nervously at that, “That’s actually kinda what I came to talk to you about. I-I got offered a job from Paramount out west to work for them, but they’re saying I nee-”
“Jokes over,” he declares, his smile dropping a little, bypassing what you were trying to say. “You got me, alright?”
“... Not alright, Elvis,” you state trying to get your point across. “I’m trying to tell you I’m getting another jo-”
“Y/N,” he says, cutting off your plea, the look in his eyes familiar, but you’ve never had the misfortune of it being directed at you. “Quit the jokin’ now,” he says, his tone severe which you do not care for one bit, but you have to tread lightly if you want to get his sign off.
“I’m serious Elvis… this… this probably isn’t the best time,” you sigh, for once in your life trying to be careful with your words. “Th-the studio needs letters from former bosses to know that I can do the job, an-and I was hoping you could write one for me.”
The tension hangs thick between the two of you once you are finally able to make your point. You swallow nervously but you don’t sway and inch as he stands from his desk.
“If this is a ploy to get a raise,” he said coldly. “You win Y/N, I’ll pay ye’ whatcha want?”
“No Elvis…” you sigh, trying to keep a cap on your frustration. “You’re not listening. I’ve got a new job lined up in Hollywood, I just need you to write a letter for them telling you I can..” you trail off seeing the expression of fury in his face.
“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me right now Y/N!?!?”
“I think we’ve established that I’m not joking right now,” you say bitingly, your hatred of being yelled at overriding all other things.
“So what… you’re gonna leave me high and dry when I need ya’ the most!?” He says, something akin to heartbreak painting his features.
“Why do you gotta say it like that? Like I’m breaking up with you?” you argue, not liking how he’s making this a bigger deal than it is. “It ain’t like you’re gonna need a make-up girl while you’re doing drills.”
“But I’m gonna need you!” He asserts, placing his hands on your shoulders.
“Oh don’t be like that,” you tell him, literally shrugging him off. “It’s not like I’m gonna be able to live on base with you.
“Then we don’t gotta live on base.” he waves away, as though it were that simple.
“Elvis… I don’t wanna go with you,” you say simply leaving it at that leaving no room for him to argue the logistics of it. It hurts but you know you gotta get out now while the getting is good, because if you wait any longer, he’ll be the one that leaves first and that will be all the worse. For the first time in your life, you want to be the one that walks away on your own terms. “E, I-I gotta go where the work is,” you try to justify.
“So that’s it ain’t it,” he says, his pursed lips turning into a frown. “this was all just a job to you and you’re leaving cuz there ain’t one no more?” he shakes his head at you, disappointment evident on his face.
That… that cuts deep. That he can reduce not only his role in your life like that without guilt, as though you’ve been playing the longest con in history, when you first decided to defend a scrawny 12 year old from his nay-saying music teacher.
“Yes Elvis, if that’s what you want to hear,” you say without a hint of hesitation, willing your tears not to fall now of all times. “This has all just one big job for me, has been since the very beginning. Now there ain’t no job to have and I gotta fucking move on with my life because I don’t fucking need you anymore!” It doesn’t feel great as it leaves your mouth, and the angry tears streaming down your face prove it.
Nor does it get any better when you watch him stagger a bit at that, as though he had just been shot, even taking a hold of the corner of his desk for full effect. A million emotions pass through his face in seconds until he eventually lands on pure unadulterated fury. “Get out! I don’t wanna fuckin’ look at you right now!” he shouts dismissing you, his hands shaking as though itching to wring your neck.
“You got it Boss,” you say bitingly while giving a sarcastic curtsey, to which you turn around and walk out of the room, paying no mind to the destructive sounds coming from behind you. In spite of the biting cold outside your rage is keeping you warm as you pace back and forth along the back patio, trying to figure out your next move.
You’ve had your fights with Elvis before, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen so upset past the point of not wanting to talk with you. Even the biggest blow out between the two of you was exactly that, when he had walked in on you with that Beta who served cotton candy.
“Well now you know what I’d do for cotton candy,” you tried to joke after they had left, but Elvis proceeded to scream in your face, asking how dare you do something like this to him. You’d seen his territorial side before, as you’re not stupid enough to actually believe there isn’t anything behind all the times he’d casually pick you up and take you away when you happened to be talking to some Beta. But you did not care for being screamed at whatsoever, so you packed your things and proceeded to walk to the nearest bus station. You proved yourself to be far more stubborn than him, as you walked down the road, ignoring his demands that you get into the car as it crawled at a near snail’s pace to keep up with you, and talk you out of going back to Memphis.
As the cars lined up and started honking, you refused him still, even his threats to throw you into the trunk if need be, you didn’t falter. It wouldn’t be any sweat for him to do so, what with that crazy alpha strength of his, but you both knew that would hardly be the end of it if he resorted to that. Finally as the bus terminal got within view did he finally crack and promised to never yell at you like that again.
“You drive me up the goddamn wall, Y/N,” he says, rubbing his eyes.
“You love it,” you declared, glad to finally be able to rest your feet, having picked the worst shoes to walk in.
“Yeah… I do,” he sighs and looks over at you from the driver's side. There is a bit of an awkward pause as you find your faces much closer than you remembered and he glances down at your lips.
“God, I’m starving. I don’t know about you,” you quickly say, turning your torso fully around to look out your window, trying to break the tension. “But I could go for a bite and I think I saw a diner up ahead.”
You hear him clear his throat, as he hoarsely replies with a simple “Yeah.” By the time the two of you returned to the motel, you’re the best of friends once more, and neither of you ever mentioned that awkward bit again.
You had hoped after all this time he would’ve let go of that weird possessiveness he has over you. With all the girls that he could have, why do you matter to him so much? You know you’re good with makeup, but you know so are many other girls. And he is capable of opening up to them as he does with you if only he ever got his head out of his ass.
Christmas Eve, Gladys spends the day cooking up a storm, roping in you and Dodger, determined to make this the best Christmas yet. Elvis is still not talking to you but you do find him when you’re looking for your purse, and you watch briefly as he stares deeply into the fireplace, something he’s been doing a lot since your fight.
But he’s got another thing coming if he thinks that you have anything to apologize for. You’ll be leaving with or without his permission… which you absolutely do not need either way. And if he chooses to end your friendship like this, then so be it.
Hell if need be you’ll go over his head and ask the Colonel for a letter. You have no doubt that if it means getting you away from Elvis, the Colonel will write nothing short of a glowing review and personally hand deliver it to Paramount.
Christmas day comes and everyone and their mother is over to celebrate. Everybody is living it up and trying their best to not acknowledge the big ole’ elephant in the room. Elvis seemed to be in higher spirits though as he proceeded to act like nothing was amiss, trying to make this a good Christmas for all. It’s almost as though the weather itself knew his plans for a perfect Christmas with the fresh blanket of snow that covered the outside.
Everyone tries to follow suit with keeping up the festive denial, though it doesn’t take long of the both of you obviously avoiding each other for seemingly everyone to notice something is wrong. Some point blank ask what happened between the two of you.
Some of the guys, weirdly enough, ask if you’re feeling sick, which is an odd experience considering that their eyes tend to slide right over you most days. You find yourself compulsively checking yourself in any available surface over and over again, trying to figure out what had them questioning your state. Nothing is out of place, your makeup is flawless and your outfit is perfectly coordinated and festive.
You look beautiful and nothing is wrong. You’re hoping if you repeat that enough times you’ll start to believe that.
You eventually call it a night after a few hours though not before presents are exchanged and you get the pleasure of seeing Elvis' eyes go a bit glassy once he puts on the new coat you got for him only to find the pockets filled with Gum and Guitar strings, because as upset as you are with him you’re not about to break tradition.
By the time you make it back to your room you all but pass out fully dressed on top of your sheets, and you feel the slightest twinge of guilt when you wake up wrapped in Elvis' old Crown Electric Jacket. You don’t really get a chance to dwell on that too much though as after taking your suppressant, do you notice the noise- or better yet the lack thereof.
Graceland is many things but it is definitely never quiet, you learned that early on into moving in. There was always something happening, someone visiting, and something new to do, with the occasional errant chicken running around the house, so it takes not even an hour that first day for you to notice the silence.
It’s almost like a ghost town on the floor below, with the only soul to be found, being the head of this household idling away at the piano. You’re about to head back to your room, wanting absolutely none of this until you hear a “Y/N?” from the piano room. You silently curse his uncanny knack for sniffing you out when others couldn’t, while simultaneously breathing an internal sigh of relief that he no longer sounds angry at you.
“Yeah it’s me E,” you state as you walk into the room, resolved to whatever fate you had signed yourself up for.
He turns around to see you see his face flushed and his eyes puffy, no doubt he’s been having trouble sleeping again.
“Y/N… we’re close right,” he asks genuinely, and you know that that boss comment hurt him deeply.
“We’ve both seen each other without makeup, absolutely nothing is closer than that.” you answer.
That gets a chuckle out of him at least, and it’s almost a relief to hear it after going without it for so long. “How many years we been knowin’ each other?” he asks solemnly, as you sit next to him on the piano bench.
It’s as you're saying 8 do you actually realize how long it’s been. “Time is one sneaky sonuvabitch,” you say, your eyes still wide at the revelation.
He laughs a bit at your reaction, “It sure is,” he says. The next look you can’t quite read as he says, “That's 8 years of believing in my dream longer than even I did at some points.” His eyes wide and his face soft.
You’re very uncomfortable at the amount of vulnerability being shown right now and you quickly course correct by lightly moving his chin with your fist and saying, “Hey now don't chu go gettin’ soft on me Presley,” you say, laughing to mask your nervousness.
He takes your hand in his as he says “What I’m tryin’ ta say Y/N, is th-that it’s been 8 years of you supportin’ me in whatever way I needed.” He gives a sad smile at this, before he continues, “I figure it’s ‘bout time I pay that back. I’ll write whatcha need darlin’.”
You’re stunned at this, truly having believed you would be the first to crack. But here he is, subverting expectations as usual. You’re not the most physically affectionate person, you’ll admit, but you can’t help the overwhelming urge to hug him. Not the obligatory side hugs you give on occasion, nor the awkwardly stiff stance when someone hugs you. This is a full on arms-behind his neck bury your face in his neck kind of hug, as you squeal you thank yous over and over to him.
You remember yourself, you pull away slightly once you feel his hands on your lower back tenderly holding you to him, and with your hands on his chest you look at him directly in the face. His eyes gazing up at you, a soft smile on his plush lips, his breathing steady and strong, as opposed to yours which hitches in your throat.
You clear your throat, “Say where is everybody?” you ask casually releasing yourself from his grip and turning your attention toward the window, which showcased the freshly fallen untouched snow of December.
He approaches you from behind and idly places a warm hand on your shoulder, before saying“I let everyone know I need some alone time and I didn’t really wanna see anyone, till we hear back ‘bout the deferment.”
“Shit sorry,” you say, quickly trying to get up. “I’lll get outta your hair,” you say, only for his grip on your shoulder to slip down to your waist.
“You’re not just anyone to me Y/N,” he drawls, his face far closer than necessary.
"Okay weirdo," you say, turning away hoping your face isn’t radiating how warm you’re feeling. You focus your attention on the snow covered lawn before you declare, "But if this ends up like the Donner's, I'm eating you first."
That gives him pause and you see as he purses his lips, clearly trying to hide a smile before he leans in real close to your ear. You don’t fully understand why your heart seemingly skips a beat as he says in a husky drawl, "Not if I don't eat you first."
There was the briefest of moments when you feel your face heat up at his tone until you roll your eyes at him and move him and his stupid little lip bite away from you. You turn around and try to leave the room, content that your little orphan angry ass isn’t going to be thrown out into the snow just yet. But before you can do so, you feel him grab a hold of your wrist, “ain’tcha cold like that darlin’?”
You look down only to be reminded that you had not in fact dressed for the weather today and your short-sleeve blouse and light skirt reflect that. Though oddly you don’t feel the least bit cold, and you feel mildly perturbed as to how in fact you are feeling very comfortable like this. Though of course you hide your concern by saying “You forget, I’m cold-blooded Presley.”
“Of course you lil’ lizard you,” he says with a smile on his face, as he’s taking off his own jacket. “But mama would have my hide if she found out I let you walk around like that and get sick,” and he drapes the warm material around your shoulders, and then chucks you under your chin to look at him. In spite of your supposedly “cold-blood” you feel uncharacteristically warm as he looks at you.
You quickly make your way back to your room, to open up that secret compartment of your purse to find your suppressants. You take them religiously and know exactly how many you should have left by this point, and you’re relieved to find the correct amount left. You quickly think back to everything that you’ve eaten in the last few days, and nothing sticks out to you that would have affected them and you don’t drink whatsoever so it couldn’t be any of that.
Finally you’re left with no choice but to chalk it up as nothing but you being paranoid. You decide to read on the couch, and somehow between the warmth of his jacket and the soft notes he’s playing, you find yourself in a hypnotic trance and you give into the heavy feeling of your eyelids.
You’re later startled awake when you feel something hit you squarely in the face, confused until the snow begins to melt on you and you feel the cool burn of the cold water on your chest. Elvis is laughing his ass off seeing you like this and nimbly dodges when you throw one of your house slippers at him.
“There were easier ways of wakin’ me up,” you remark through your exasperation.
“Ain’t one of ‘em as funny though,” he says slyly, and you roll your eyes, but your sigh tells him you can’t help but agree. “‘Sides that Twilight show’s ‘bouta start, and I knew you woulda done worse if I let you miss it.”
You’re surprised at that, and as you look out to the dreary looking sky you see that it has in fact been more than a few hours since you’ve been asleep. But it hardly feels like any time has passed between now and then as you still feel like you could sleep for another few hours or even days. You quickly disregard these thoughts though as he tells you it’s only a matter of time before your favorite shows starts.
You take a seat next to him just in time to catch the beginning of Twilight Zone, placing the popcorn between the two of you. You have always loved scary stories like this, and Elvis loved scaring you when you got too wrapped up in the stories. Low and behold as you’re anxiously waiting for Inger Stevens to come across the hitchhiker once again, you feel his cool hands grasp at your side making you all but jump out of your skin.
“I hate you,” you say mulishly as he continues to laugh. Though he doesn’t remove his arm from around your waist which takes your full focus off of the screen, as you look down at his hand curled around your side. You move slightly away from him only for his grip to tighten and you’re pulled even further into him until you're all but sitting on his lap. You’re viscerally reminded of Prom and wonder briefly if he even remembers that night anymore, or if it’s become lost in the shuffle amongst all of the other girls he’s had over the years, and an ugly feeling of jealousy shoots through you in that moment.
“Oh there’s the popcorn,” you say, as you use your whole body to stand up and get off of his lap. You grab it and rather than get back on the couch, you sit yourself on the floor, clutching the bowl in front of yourself as though it were a shield, as Perry Mason was just about to start. You’re hesitant to look at him right now, until he reaches down and grabs a handful of popcorn from the bowl.
“Wait I know how this one ends,” Elvis says, with a cheeky grin. “Perry Mason wins.”
He’s just a naturally touchy person, you justify to yourself, don’t read too much into it. “It’s not about if, it’s how goddamnit,” you assert, with a smile on your face. As the show continues you hardly notice when Elvis makes his way to the floor or when he casually throws an arm around your shoulder, though that’s mostly due to the fact that by the half-way mark of the episode, you were struggling to keep your eyes open. Even finding yourself leaning on him more and more, and if you weren’t so tired you would wonder why, considering that you spent most of the day napping.
No, you just find yourself silently grateful for that crazy Alpha strength of his to carry you to bed, your bed feeling more comfortable than you can ever remember it as you settle in.
Waking up to find Elvis in your bed is not unusual. Waking up to him under the sheets with you holding you around your waist is rare but occasionally does happen. Waking up to find that you’re in his bed as he nuzzles his nose into your neck with a handful of your ass while… something… pokes your belly, absolutely unheard of.
You try to peel his hand off and carefully remove yourself from his grip, only for him to roll over fully on top of you and bury himself between your breasts. You stop breathing entirely for a moment, too worried that any sort of chest-heaving may wake him and make this whole situation all the more uncomfortable. Part of you wishes to go back to sleep and hope that this was simply a bad dream, but as he shifts you feel his thigh place itself firmly by your core, the action so sudden and shocking that you audibly gasp.
You feel him stir at that and your face is burning, embarrassed by this whole ordeal, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling you get as he plants a sleepy kiss on your neck and removes himself from you. You think you’ve reached new heights of humiliation, until you find him between your thighs and feel one of his hands start to travel up your skirt.
This has got to be a dream, you think.
“Ok, you’ve had your fun,” you say, trying not to make your skittishness so apparent. “You can quit it now,” but then his other hand travels further up and you’re almost too distracted to notice its twin hook on to your panties and begin to drag them down. And before you can make any noise of protest, it turns into a surprised squeak as you feel his hot breath waft over your now naked cunt. You’re frozen in place as to what the hell is going on, both fearful and hopeful as to what he’s about to do next.
Those seconds seem to drag on for hours, there’s nothing stopping you from closing your legs or even covering yourself with your hands, but neither of these occur to you. Instead you lay there paralyzed as he further parts your thighs and using his tongue lightly trace up the seam of your cunt.
That sends you into overdrive and removes any possibility that this is a dream, as he languidly tongues your core. Your hips almost immediately buck up but he keeps you down with a forearm across your lower belly, as he tenderly nurses at your clit.
You grab at his hair but that only seems to further invigorate him, as his groans seem to reverberate off of your walls and he goes from focusing on that bundle of nerves, to delving lower and lower to that seldom explored entrance of your cunt. You restlessly try to push his head away from you, but your thighs apparently have a mind of their own as they box him in when you feel the tip of tongue lightly trace the rim of your fluttering hole.
His tongue, you are learning, has talents well beyond singing as you feel that wicked muscle eagerly delve into what little access you have (reluctantly?) granted him. The pleased hums he’s making, demonstrating how much he’s enjoying the act don’t help either.
Eventually you find your hands running through the hair that you, probably more than anyone in the world, are most intimately familiar with, even seeing the hint of his light roots that you’ve neglected to touch up in the last few days. You’re at the very least glad that the two of you are alone in the house, because you doubt you would have been able to muffle the downright filthy sounds coming out of your mouth.
The noises you’re making seem to only spur him further, as his thumb goes from an unhurried pace to a far more goal-oriented motions as his tongue goes rigid and plunges as deep as it could go and then, almost playfully, wiggles within you.
You’re left seeing stars, your pussy clamping down around his tongue, though he removes it almost immediately in order to prolong your euphoria by sucking on that little button of yours.
Even after all of that, you still held out hope that this was some weird sleepwalking episode and somehow feeling another warm body, he was going off of instincts until he removes himself from your pussy, nonchalantly wiping his mouth with his thumb, and looks you right in the eye with a look that tells you he has an appetite that has only been mildly wetted.
“Guess I ate ya’ first darlin’,” he remarks with a very sweet kiss to your lips, as though he didn’t just make you have the best orgasm of your life. God you’re so familiar with these lips, yet it still takes you by surprise as to how soft they feel against your own. You’re only human so lord forgive if you wish to indulge in the fantasy of perhaps every teenage omega in the country. But quickly you gain your bearings, remembering that as far as he’s concerned, you’re a Beta through, and through.
It kills you a little to remove yourself, breathing raggedly as you try to come to grips with what is happening. His eyes are blown out entirely, and he licks his lips as though you’re a meal waiting to be devoured, but even then you instinctively know he’s seeing you as you are.
This trance you’re both in is broken by the shrill ring of the phone from the upstairs office. He gives a soft curse, before he rolls out of bed and casually walks out of the room. You’re left leaning against the pillows. Looking up at the ceiling, utterly shell-shocked, mindlessly fixing your skirt to cover up your bare pussy as you try to figure out what the hell just happened.
But it’s as you’re doing that does an unbearable fire come upon you. A terrible fever emanating from your lower belly overwhelms you and as you helplessly inch out of his bed every instinct within you is screaming how bad of an idea that actually is. Every step away from that bed is agony, as though you’re wading through lava, away from any safe haven you may have found. Even trying to move your panties back into place feels scalding and you’re left with no choice but to remove them completely, leaving you completely accessible. You shiver at the thought, and not from the cold.
Briefly you wonder if maybe Elvis had something to do with this sickness you’re experiencing, but as you feel a throbbing emptiness from deep within you, do you realize that this is in fact a long ignored part of yourself that is simply roaring back to life. You finally recognize what exactly this is and recognize what sort of trouble you’re in.
You skittishly look out the door and, finding the office door closed with his voice behind it, you make a quick beeline to the staircase, and from there dash to your room, where you quickly barricade yourself in with your vanity table. And in the mirror are you forced to face what you are. Your eyes blown out, your clothes wrinkled and disheveled, the makeup you neglected to take off before bed smudged, sweat running from the warmth emanating from within you, and your whole body trembling under the effort to not flip over the table and run directly back to him. Not to mention the slippery feeling of your thighs as your slick runs freely, unhindered by any. You look at the very image of the idyllic debauched Omega and you finally recognize something is very wrong.
You have never in your life neglected to take your suppressant a day in your life, and quickly counting them, you find no extras, so that’s clearly not the case. It is as you are doing a double count do you realize something off about them. Looking directly at your suppressants underneath the light, they looked off. They were a slightly more yellowish white than they usually are and picking one up to inspect it, your nail catches the edge of it and it crumbles a bit. Neither of these things bode well for you. You desperately look for your extra doses of suppressants only to find them missing.
That’s when it goes from less than ideal to utter nightmare territory. You don’t know how nor do you know why, but your suppressants are no longer effective and you may very well be hurdling full force into heat, alone in a home with an unmated, virile Alpha. You immediately get to packing what you can, trying to figure out your best means of escape.
You try to assess your options as to where you can go for the next few days, but with all your options being either Alphas or out of town, you have no choice but to go back to your father. But your most pressing issue as of right now is how you’re going to get out of this room. Your windows are sealed shut, so you’re left with no choice but to venture out back into the house and pray he’s still upstairs.
You’ve done your best to ignore the steady stream of slick that has been running between your thighs, but the idea that he’s out there somewhere, causes a new rush of it to burst out, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you lose all restraint and give in to what your biology is demanding of you.
You made a beeline for the front door, your mind determined to make it out of Graceland but it was upon actually getting to the front door do you find your hands hesitating for a second. Some latent part of yourself really questions if it would be so bad to be his, questions why you have to fight it when he’s been nothing but good to you.
But it was your moment of hesitation that gave enough time for a familiar ringed hand to slam the door shut on you. “Baby, there you are,” despite the door now shutting out the cold, you can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine.
“Elvis I-I-I,” you swallow, his scent so heady and powerful you can almost taste him on the back of your tongue. “I need to leave.”
“I just got the good news,” he states, completely blowing past what you just said. “They granted me the deferment for the movie.”
“Elvis, I’m begging you,” you plead, as a bruising grip on your wrist forces you to let go of your packed bag. You’ve only ever cried once in your life in front of him, but now the tears flow freely down your face.
“Don'tchu worry your pretty little head ‘bout anythin’ darlin’,” he coos, wiping the tears from your cheek. “You go where I go, ain’t nothin’ gonna change ‘bout that.”
Even after all the time that had passed, you can still vaguely taste yourself on him, not an unpleasant taste, but your thoughts quickly turn to wondering how he would taste, or better yet how the both of you would taste together. The kiss becomes heavier and deeper as you wrap your arms around him and boldly run your tongue over those sharp canines of his, some masochistic part of you demanding to press harder.
Your chest is heaving, needing more oxygen than you personally think is necessary, and yet you find yourself giving pathetic little whimpers as he leaves your lips in favor of marking a trail of kisses down your body.
He kneels down before you, burying his face in the crevice between your thighs, the only barrier between you and him, being the thin material of your skirt. It was only then did you notice the brief relief from the fever you felt, all due to his close proximity. “You smell ripe for the pickin’ sweetheart,” he breathes out in a raspy tone, looking up at you as though he were in prayer, as his hand drags the zipper of your skirt down. It slips down fully with only the slightest of tugs, and your left trembling, bare from the waist down in front of him, as your thighs shift uneasily the slick that’s gathered making it all the easier.
You try not to look down at him, as though that will stop what’s happening right now. His tongue is now collecting every trace of your wetness it could find and just barely missing where you feel you need him most, to which you’re not afraid to voice your disapproval of.
“Don’t mind if I take the first bite,” he whispers, the tip of a canine barely scraping the smooth skin of your thigh. It’s that contact that reminds you what exactly is at stake here. Without warning you do your best to push him to the ground. He’s caught off guard but manages to catch himself before he lands on his ass, but the momentary surprise gives you just enough room to slip out.
You are about to sprint all the way back to your room, hoping to lock yourself in, until you feel an iron-like grip on your ankle. You’re barely able to catch yourself with your hands, but you're quickly dragged backwards. You desperately claw at the carpets, trying to find some kind of purchase only for him to grab a hold of both your wrists in one hand.
And that’s that. You’re thoroughly wrangled, no means of escape and no one coming to save you. You recognize how thoroughly fucked you are (or ar going to be) and that really no point in fighting it anymore, but you can’t even trust yourself enough to say that it wasn’t intentional on some level.
Let it never be said you’re not stubborn until the very end.
“Now I didn’t appreciate that one bit,” he hisses at you, and you hear the tell the shifting of fabric as he moves his pants down his hips, still holding your wrists down.
“Please Elvis,” you say desperately, only managing to wiggle your hips slightly which doesn’t help your case whatsoever. His hand is now splayed along your lower belly, as he lifts your hips into a new position to you, your cheek still stuck to the carpet. “You don’t want to do this,” you sob hoping he’s not too far gone, though with the way he groans at the feeling of your warm ass on the underside of his cock, even you understand there’s nothing that’s going to stop this from happening.
“What I want is ta tan your hide, for denyin’ me this sweet little pussy a yours for all these years,” he growls hungrily next to your ear, and those words shouldn’t have you keening and writhing like you were, but they do and you are. “But we’ll save that when it won’t be so pleasant for you. ‘Sides your cunt is achey enough already, ain’t it?” he purrs, the head of him prodding at your core, barely catching the rim of your entrance.
“Yes, oohh yes Elvis,” you whine, pathetically. “Please-”
You can’t say for certain whether or not you were gonna continue to deny him, all you can say is that all thoughts or hesitations seem to melt away as you feel him push himself in. Your eyes threaten to roll back all the way into your head, it felt so good. You're practically dripping wet at this point, but even still the girth is still something to contend with, as you’ve never had to handle equipment this big before, and at the angle you’re at you can’t quite make-out how much more of this you’ll have to take.
Elvis though is about as patient as he could be under the circumstances. He’s like steel wrapped in velvet, silky yet unyielding, as he sinks into you like hot butter, until finally his hips meet your ass. His heavy member has found a home in your cunt, and with the patience of a goddamn saint, he waits until your moans and groans aren't so ambiguous, and has the sound of a woman enjoying herself.
You’re low groan when he moves out, turns into a high-pitched shriek when he slams back into you. You sympathized with him when the papers started calling him The Pelvis but now being here underneath him , you can’t think period, let alone think of a more fitting nickname considering how well he’s wielding his to go at a harsh yet tender pace behind you.
In his rutting frenzy, he’s seemingly forgotten his hold on your wrists, but you in turn have abandoned your initial fervor to get away from him. You find yourself pushing backwards, desperate to keep him inside as best you can, frantically rubbing tight little circles on your clit with a single-mindedly chasing release, while you push off your other hand and try to meet his thrusts.
But he hasn’t quite gotten over that sadistic streak of his as he stops mid thrust and holds your waist preventing you from moving any further. You want to cry, you were so close, but the part of you that wants to be good and obey him wins out over the willful side of you, and you bury your forehead into the carpet. And as still as you can manage, you wait with bated breath for his next move.
“I tried bein’ nice ‘bout it, let you come to me,” he whispers in your ear as he moves the collar of your shirt out of the way, kissing the newly exposed skin. “But you gotta be so goddamn stubborn ‘bout everything,'' He hisses and you feel his warm breath waft on the back of your neck, and you know what’s coming next. You’ve dreaded this happening for years, but it’s so much worse than you ever could have imagined, because it’s coming from the last person you expected. You feel his lips curl into a small smile against your skin, and you feel the light scrape of one of his canines against your skin. “But I ain’t about ta have you any other way.” And without wasting another moment, he sinks his teeth into your neck marking you as his until the end of your days.
The sheer amount of pleasure and pain surging through your body makes you feel everything and nothing at all. All that registers really is the euphoric feeling as to where the two of you are joined together -at long last- so you didn’t miss a single moment as you feel the base of his cock start to swell. You're so startled that you try to pathetically crawl away only for him to take a hold of your still sore hips and bring you flush against him, as he seemingly grows and grows within you, well past what you ever thought could have fit up there.
You briefly black out for a moment not so much reaching your peak, but being rocketed to heights beyond what you could have ever imagined. Longer and more intense than you’ve ever been able to achieve, with a partner or otherwise, you’re a shivering pile of flesh, no longer tied to another worldly want other than the man behind you.
His moans are pure ecstasy, his hands undoubtedly leaving bruises on your hips, and his member resting heavy inside of you. Even though, on some level, you know it’s a fool's errand, you nonetheless try to separate yourself from him only to be given a painful reminder why this thing was often described as being “locked in.” You could feel yourself already stretched past your limit, refusing to let go of him, and you hear him groan from the new sensation, as tears flow down your cheeks from the pain.
What’s worse is that when you finally give up and snap back into place do you both shudder at the sensation as he reaches some part deep inside of you. You black out for a moment from going from intense pain to immense pleasure almost immediately can do that to you only to now find yourself on your side with Elvis behind lazily rocking his hips into yours as he leaves blistering kisses where he can and scorching trails everywhere else he could reach.
You’re left with no choice but to stay put and try not to enjoy every roll of his hips against yours, though you stubbornly bite your own lip to prevent yourself from making any noises, approving or otherwise. But this plan quickly falls apart as your mulish defiance of him and his wants are nothing compared to the swift slap on your pussy that causes you to bite down hard on your own lip. Your stupid protruding canine gets your lip, and upon your instinctual cry and release of your lip do you begin to taste the coppery flavor of your own blood. You attempt to hide your face only for him to grab a hold of your jaw, only to lick up the small trail of blood to your chin. You’re way past being able to be shocked by him anymore, and simply choose to relish in this sinful act, with a man who has been trying to clean up his image for the past few months.
If you had to guess, you’re like that for roughly an hour, until finally he’s at a size where you're finally able to remove yourself from him without discomfort, other than the veritable flood that comes gushing out of you without his cock to keep all of it in. Towards the end, he had shifted you so that you were back on your knees, your head resting on your forearms, with your ass in the air and you could only watch mesmerized as a small stream of his milky white seed runs down your thigh only to stop where your knee meets the floor where it proceeds to disappear into the ivory carpet beneath you.
You hear him purr behind you, apparently just as captivated by the show your pussy is giving him. In one swift motion you find yourself on your back and as he follows the path his cum had trailed down your leg, back to its source. You gasp as you feel him dip his fingers back into you and he hooks some of the seed out of your cunt only to use your now open mouth to stick them in there.
It’s almost like a switch goes off in your head with that first real taste of him. You no longer try to fight with yourself, not even choosing to give in really, because with the way you're feeling right now it’s not even really a choice anymore.
“Anything that ain’t goin’ into your pretty pussy is goin’ in that smart mouth a yours, you understand lil’ mama?” he purrs, satisfied as your tongue splits his fingers trying to get every single drop of him you could. “We don’t wanna let any of this go to waste now do we?”
“No,” you cry desperately, truly ashamed as to what you’re becoming. But you have no time for those thoughts as he surprises you by returning back down to your pussy.
“Keep your mouth open,” he orders between your thighs, words slightly muffled as they are against your lower lips. You're confused as to what he’s doing until he gives a light press on your lower belly and his cum gushes out of your poor abused hole and into his waiting mouth. He takes what comes out before he crawls back up to you to get a hold of your jaw, a dangerous look set in his eyes.
You dutifully do as he says and open up. Once that hot, heady flavor of your combined fluids hits your tongue you’re gone, without ego and fully submitting yourself not only to him but the primitive Omega brain that wants nothing more than to be his. You even wrap your arms around his neck to bring his lips to yours, so that the two of you could fully share this obscene cocktail that you both have managed to create.
“Aww baby,” he breathes, his lips brushing against yours. “We wasted so much goddamn time not doin’ this.” In your state of mind you can’t help but agree.
He takes you on just about every available surface of the house, and you truly believe that the only reason he didn’t venture outward was due to how cold it was. If you had the capacity to think beyond seeking your next release you would feel ashamed as to what everybody will undoubtedly smell when they return. But all you could really focus on at any given moment was how good he felt inside you, or tasted on your tongue.
As frantic as he was to keep as much cum inside of you as possible, he also seemed to gain a specific kind of pleasure seeing you drip with his seed and having you swallow it in penance. You can’t get enough of any part of him and he makes good on his promise as to where his cum would go (where it belongs,) and for a solid week you are sustained almost solely on that save for whatever Elvis can scrounge from the kitchen. There’s almost a soft melancholy when you swallow him, as though he’s truly saddened over the lost potential of that particular load, as though he’s not stuffing you full of it seemingly every hour.
But in your haze you were all too happy to take what he could give you, you cunt greedy for all that he can give you.
And it’s underneath him that you learn about Alpha anatomy. Knotting, as you learn it’s officially called, is something Elvis can only do two to three times a day before he has to rest. Doesn’t stop him from trying every single time, nor does it stop him from having you
It becomes easier and easier each time, until you find yourself after each peak desperately grinding on to him, hoping that his knot would make a reappearance and make you feel whole. By the third day you even find yourself falling asleep with it within you, finding the fullness comforting, as though reassuring you that he won’t disappear on you in such a vulnerable state. The few times he’s left the bed you’re left a helpless, writhing mess desperate for him, even when he’s promised you he would be gone only for a few minutes. Part of you thinks he leaves more often than strictly necessary, considering the smug look he gives seeing you so needy for him and practically begging for his cock as you fruitlessly tried to replicate that sense of fullness only he could give.
“Empty,” you mewl, at this point incapable of full sentences.
He’s decided to torture you a bit rubbing the head of his cock on your clit. The hand splayed on your soft stomach prevents you from moving too much, wanting to take his time with you. Your whimpering begging for what you want desperate
“You ain’t ever gonna feel that way again,” he whispers through his kisses along the mark he left. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, ain’t no way you won’t be carryin’ my baby. Ain’t that whatchu want sweetheart.”
“Yes,” you cry desperately, willing to agree to anything, if he would only give you what you wanted, perhaps marking one of the few times he’s won a battle of wills against you.
You’re more animal than woman that week, a slave to her desires, a creature whose sole purpose is to be fucked and have his babies, if Elvis’ whisperings during this time are to be believed. You worry as to whether or not this more primitive side is due to your lack of experience with being in heat or if this is what to expect from every heat going forward. You feel as though someone else has taken the reins to your body and you’re simply meant to enjoy the ride.
Elvis on the other hand stays aware, and he takes care of you throughout it all, making sure you eat enough and drink water, makes sure your lips don’t dry out, licks at your wounds to help speed up the healing process, etc. You’ve never felt so needy, and you’re barely coherent enough to form complete sentences, and so you show your appreciation by being both as vocal and as obedient as possible.
He usually spends recovery periods licking you clean, though not necessarily where you initially thought he would’ve. You can’t help but conclude his love affair with the taste of your blood considering how much time he spends on the small wounds he’s made all over your body. In his initial eagerness to explore your body in those first few hours, he had “accidentally” nicked you every so often, the sole exception being the twin crescent marks you can feel on your neck and on your ass, which was clearly nothing less than intentional. Though your state and his efforts have significantly sped up the healing process, you know by the end of this you will be left with a constellation of scars.
“This one” he said lightly running his fingers along the marred skin of your neck. “That one’s for the world baby,” he coos, as he gives it a light kiss, making the slap that lands perfectly on top of the mark on your bottom, all the more surprising. “That one’s just for me and you. So you best not forget who that belongs to.”
“Never,” you sigh happily.
It’s almost funny when you think about it, how the world demands a clean-cut, sexless teen heart-throb, as though a majority of them aren’t also beholden to this primitive state of theirs. Looking at him now above you, his teeth sharp and bared, his grunts and groans echoing throughout the house, the bruises and scratches you’ve been able to leave on his torso, even the stubble you’ve felt more than you’ve seen, all paint a very primal portrait of him. He’s something wild, untameable even, someone who isn’t afraid to show how he is beholden to his own desires and instincts as the rest of the world hid from them, and tried to act like they don’t exist.
If it weren’t for the knot you would be hard-pressed to find much of a difference between this Elvis and the standard one.
By the end of your heat, you’re thoroughly exhausted, you don’t even have the energy to be mad at him anymore. You’ve just resolved yourself to your fate that will forever be tied to the boy you once thought you knew. You don’t even have the luxury of knowing whether these thoughts are your own, and not some long suppressed Omega part of you that simply wants to enjoy the way his calloused guitar hands gently rub the soft part of your lower belly.
But if this week has been about satisfying long-standing desires you’re not about to hold back on your desire for knowledge. Specifically how he discovered your secret.
“I wasn’t ‘bout a let you go without a fight baby,” he whispers, comfortable in not needing to hide anything from you anymore, as you’re thoroughly ensnared. “I was cookin’ up some not so nice plans to keep you by me no matter what. Only for a goddamn Christmas miracle to drop into my lap.” he says, allowing you to make your own pace at which to ride him.
“Your daddy sent me a bill in the mail, and I think you know what he was charging you for, dontcha?” he purrs, lazily thumbing at your clit and watching as your breasts bounced in rhythm with your frantic bucking.
“Bein’ the good mate I am, I let him know that you weren’t gon’ need any of that shit no more,” he says, giving a firm slap on your ass seemingly just because he felt like it. “And I some interestin’ things about them pills. You know what stops them pills from workin’ right?” he asks, lazily rutting into you.
“What?”
“You add a lil’ heat,” he growls, and suddenly his obsession with the fireplace these last few days makes perfect sense.
He spoke to you of how he’s been dreaming of this for years, and how he’s known that you were it for him, even when he thought nothing physical could happen between the two of you.
But even as he spoke, there was an ever present air of inevitability when he spoke to you as to how he envisioned your future together as though this was always meant to happen. And it was only a matter of you catching up to him. Afterall you were the one who taught him to ignore what he didn’t want to hear. And he didn’t want to hear no from you.
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@venus-haze @djsjs13949 @ilovehobi101 @butlerslut @richardslady121 @giabelia @sydneyyyya @meetme0614 @tacozebra051 @myradiaz @thelifes-world @maythesunshineagain @rakitirakiti @lostteenagetale @j-v-9-2 @eliseinmemphis @dkayfixates @immi547 @thatbanditqueen @marriedtoeddie @cuteejeno @itlover8000 @isthlsfate @mgparker @thatbanditqueen @softsatnin @literally-just-elvis-fics
#elvis#iswtg#if this shows up in the tags i'm gonna scream#yandere elvis#it did show up y'all#elvis 2022#elvis x reader#elvis movie#elvis presley#elvis film#elvis smut#yandere austin!elvis x reader#austin!elvis fic#austin!elvis#yandere x reader#yandere!elvis x reader#yandere!elvis#yandere#austin butler#austin!elvis angst#austin butler elvis#austin butler x reader#omega!reader#omega reader#alpha!elvis#alpha elvis#omegaverse#austin!elvis x reader#sorry for spamming y'all in the tag list but trust me when i say i didn’t want a repeat#did not write 21k for this not to be in the tags
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The design of U-Official as a playable operator is kind of really weird in a way that I'm legitimately not sure is intentional or not. Like the whole thing with her entire kit is that it seems all just like, bad, with her self-stunning on deploy, and her finding clues you already have. The thing is, like, all of these effects are legitimately very strong and I'm not sure if this is meant to convey that she seems very unlucky and a doofus or just that she is like that on the surface, but really isn't.
Like, her "stun herself and everyone around them for 7.5 seconds effect" while also being extremely cheap in DP and taking up no deployment slots is absurdly fucking useful. (She also hits air units.) The number of times in the past few months that I've been like "wow if I had U-Official this would have been much easier" when playing hard content is so high. The fact that global didn't get U-Official for months after they should have given the usual CN delay is legitimately kind of absurd. I know a lot of people have had pretty reasonable grievances about IS3 but like the thing is, if U-Official was around for IS3 for global many of those complaints would not exist because her effect is just that absurdly good.
Anyway, let's talk about her (2nd) base skill because if I am understanding it right and its description is accurate it's legitimately one of the best clue-related base skills in the game:
You can control what clues are attached to your board. This means that she can moonlight as a clue finder for any specific clue that you otherwise don't receive many of, as long as you keep one backup copy of that clue. Like, let's say that you have clue finders for all the clues but 3, so what you do here is you keep an extra clue 3 around that you never turn in, and when you need another clue 3 you simply stick clue 3 to your board, take everything off, and have U-Official as your clue finder. She can do this with any clue, you can use her as a relatively efficient cluefinder for any clue in the game. It's good and if it was an attempt to convey "oh look how silly she is" I don't think that effect actually does that.
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One of the biggest problems and red flags about the whole spider society was having kids be workers for them.
Now I’m not saying the spider society shouldn’t have contacted the younger spiders or even work with them! But the spider society should function as more of a support group and emergency backup type situation for the younger spiders.
There was no reason for Margo, someone who is implied to be like Miles’s age, someone who can’t even drive, to be running an integral part of the society and how they are keeping the multiverse intact. She not only ran it, but if it malfunctioned it was clearly her job and responsibility to fix. When the machine ‘breaks’ and functions while, as far as she’s aware, no one’s in it she’s panicking, even though there would be no real consequences if she just let it run. There was no reason for Gwen, a 16 yr old, to be running around the multiverse alone going on high stakes solo missions(and that’s not even getting into the whole homeless thing). We don’t know yet what Peni’s role is but we have to assume it’s similar in nature and responsibility. That is insane.
Pav is the only one who seems to have a healthy relationship with the society, because he’s not really in it! He doesn’t know the indoctrination canon events yet, we don’t see him going off on solo missions, he gets backup when he needs it and that seems to be it.
For the kids that do know the canon events theory(Margo, Peni, Gwen) I cannot even imagine what must be going through their heads. Who else from their worlds has to die. For Peni, is her last living relative, Uncle Ben, the next person for her to lose? If Gwen returns to her world how long will it take for her dad to die? What other traumatic events have Miguel’s theory dictated will happen to them next? What horrors do they know will happen to them and their loved ones that they aren’t allowed to prevent? Is Gwen destined to die young because she’s the only Gwen we see Alive? And Gwen and Hobie, Pav’s friends, do they know that Gayatri and her dad are both destined to die? Like the mental gymnastics these kids have to go through and the mental torment that goes with it.
And then on top of it, to threaten said teenagers, who you have working for you, with being kicked out and being isolated from the people that are like and understand them is really fucked up. Especially if the threatening is because they are acting like teenagers and not soldiers. If Gwen is sent home, not only is her life put in danger but so is her father’s and they all know it. That is some culty level gaslighting and even grooming. Margo and Peni both are implied to not have good home lives either. The more you think about it the worse it gets honestly, because what goes along with this is we never see any of the adult spiders say anything about this.
Miguel and Jess both saw Gwen’s father, a grown man, try to arrest his daughter with a gun pointed at her. They save her, Jess takes her under wing(and whether they meant to or not) effectively become her guardians. They monitor her with what could essentially be a baby monitor/tracking device. They can control where she can and cannot go. And while understandable to not give a teen access to the entire multiverse they were very much giving her the adult responsibilities of protecting it.
When she does screw up, because she is a child who wants to see her friend, Jessica very flippantly references Miguel sending her home, making me think this is not the first time they’ve had that conversation, which is so worrying. And then they eventually do. They knew exactly what situation they were sending her into and not only did the entire society watch Miguel do it with little protest but didn’t even mention it afterwards. Even if Gwen was a threat they had other options, rather than sending her home, where she could still be safe.
There’s also a lot to say about how Jessica, Peter B., and Miguel handled Miles that speaks more to this pattern of behavior but that’s another post.
In the comics the ‘Spider Society’ got away with this sort of stuff, even having an actual infant just chilling with the group, because the spiders were being hunted. They couldn’t go home or leave the safe space dimension because it wasn’t safe. In the movie that is very much not the case. WHY WERE TEENAGERS WORKING FOR THE SOCIETY!?
#Peter b. Jessica and Miguel that is very weird of you#I feel like I could talk about Gwen’s situation specifically for a long ass time(cause we know the most about her)bc it rlly is nuts#like as an adult WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT#literally not just having her work for you but then constantly THREATEN her with essentially homelessness and a very unsafe situation is#CRAZYYYYY#like it’s even implied Margo doesn’t have a great home life either#YOU ARE TAKING ADVANTAGE OF KIDS#it’s literally grooming and it makes me so mad that not enough people recognize it for what it is#Jessica specifically I wanna know more about cause she’s the only where my mind could b changed cause we simply don’t know enough about her#THE OSHA AND CHILD LABOR LAWS MIGUEL IS VIOLATING#Gwen Stacy#Margo kess#miguel ohara#Peter b. Parker#pavitr prabhakar#Hobie brown#miles morales#ghost spider#spider byte#Spider-Man 99#Jessica drew#spiderwoman#spider society#ATSV#across the spiderverse#spiderman india#tw grooming#tw gun
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Soo, funny story, turns out celestial mountains can move? So JC finds BSSR and instead of receiving his brother's core and tragedy ensuing, he gets his core fixed, has an illuminating weekend with his brother's extended family, and maybe comes back with backup.
ao3
Untamed
"All right, you all know your parts," Wei Wuxian said, pacing back and forth in a tight circle. "We've got everything we need for the transfer. We're ready."
"We are exactly as ready as we were the last time you said that," Wen Qing said waspishly. Despite her harsh tone, due was clearly nervous, alternating between fiddling with her tools and fingering the veiled hat Wei Wuxian had given her to hide her true identity - the story Wei Wuxian had spun to throw Jiang Cheng off the scent of what was really going to happen would only work if he sincerely believed that she was the fabled Baoshan Sanren. "He won't know a thing. Stop fretting."
"I'm not fretting -"
"Why isn't he here yet?" Wen Ning wondered. "It's not that long a path up the mountain. Even if he was blindfolded, shouldn't he be here already?"
Wei Wuxian started, then exchanged worried glances with Wen Qing. They hurried to the overlook point of the cliff, but no matter how they looked, they couldn't see a single trace of Jiang Cheng, not even his shadow.
-
"Uuuuuh no you're not," the lady said when Jiang Cheng told her he was Wei Wuxian. "You don't - you don't have the right face for it, okay? Cangse Sanren was a bit more - her face - there was this indefinable sort of - listen, I'm not possessed with an overwhelming desire to smack you right now so you can’t be him."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Jiang Cheng found himself having to swallow down a snort of agreement - Wei Wuxian really did have that indefinable sort of quality.
"I could take after my father?" he suggested, though he'd mostly given it up as hopeless already.
Sure enough, the lady let out a bark of laughter - it sounded oddly like a bird's call - and said, "No way. Not that much! Anyway, why does it matter who you are?"
At that point, because Jiang Cheng was exhausted and hurting and blindfolded and still managed to see all his barely-resurrected hopes dying in front of him regardless, he burst into tears.
"Oh no," Baoshan Sanren said, sounding distinctly alarmed in a way that - if Jiang Cheng wasn't currently in the middle of humiliating himself - would have made him laugh because of how similar it was to Wei Wuxian being confronted by an emotion. "No, no, no, don't- please - I hate crying - just tell me what the matter is - someone help he's still crying -"
Eventually Jiang Cheng managed to squeeze the whole stupid story out, aided by the kind hands and helpful (or not so helpful) translations being offered by Baoshan Sanren's disciples.
"You can help him, right?" the littlest one asked, tugging on Jiang Cheng's sleeve defensively. He was twelve or thirteen or something - the others called him Xiao-shidi, so that was either his surname or a nickname - but he was a sweetheart that reminded Jiang Cheng of his sister. "Shifu, you'll help him, won't you?"
"I'm talented but no one can make golden cores out of nothing," Baoshan Sanren protested, but the little Xiao started crying, too. "No! No tears! Stop that -"
"But it's just so sad," he wailed, and then one of the other disciples, a girl who had a manner of speaking that suggested Wei Wuxian only tougher by far, gave a loud and thoughtful sniff.
"Don't you dare," Baoshan Sanren hissed. "Don't give me that, you're not even upset! You don't cry over anything, you little beast. You're just trying to bully your shifu!"
"Is it working?" the girl asked, sounding amused. "I could squeeze out some for the cause."
"It's all right, you don't have to," Jiang Cheng said, hating how his voice was still all watery and breaking even though he was finding this pretty funny. "If there's nothing she can do, there's no point, just leave her alone -"
"That's worse," Baoshan Sanren wailed. "No! Not the self-sacrificing routine!”
It wasn’t a routine!
“That’s the problem! I can handle everything but sincerity - ahhh, I hate this. All right, all right, you win, you brats. I'll fix him."
"But you said -" Jiang Cheng started to say.
"I know what I said," she cut him off, grumbling. "And I can't grow one from nothing. But – and I’m going to tell you in advance, this will be unpleasant – I can go get yours from the moment before you lost it and give it back to you."
"What? How does that work? I don't understand..."
"Time doesn't work right on the mountain. It's always the same time, even when it's not; that's why no one can come back after they've left," the girl said, sounding arrogant and carefree in a most familiar way, and Jiang Cheng's grief-fuzzed brain made a connection there that was so appalling that it couldn't possibly be true. "You up for some pain and agony if it gets you your core back, my friend?"
"Y-yeah? I mean, yes. Anything."
"All right," Baoshan Sanren said. Her raspy voice had turned into even more of a croak: it was like listening to a crow try to speak. Also, Jiang Cheng couldn't see, having not removed the useless blindfold, but he had the strangest feeling that she was smaller than before - he'd already assumed she was a wizened old thing, but for a moment she seemed no larger than a especially plump chicken. "Hold on tight, boy - here we go!"
-
"I greatly appreciate all your efforts on behalf of the Sunshot Campaign," Nie Mingjue said, and Wei Wuxian wondered if his greatest strength as the grand commander of the unified forces of the cultivation world wasn’t his saber or his command but his ability to sound completely sincere. "Murdering Wen-dogs by the score, going after critical targets, providing intelligence, even getting Mistress Wen and her brother to defect...but have you considered giving it a rest?"
Wei Wuxian choked.
It wasn't that he was surprised by the request - he'd heard it whispered for a while that he was doing too much, too fast, too viciously. He'd hunted down Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu and harried them into the Burial Mounds, using the power there to tear them to pieces despite their army - if it hadn't been for Wen Qing helping him, he might have torn himself apart in the process. It wasn't healthy for someone with a golden core to use resentful energy the way he did, she had explained. She at one point told him that she was essentially using a bucket to scoop it out of his meridians like a boat that had taken on water.
Yet he kept using it - hunting squads, battalions of Wen, supporting the other sects from the shadows, months of effort - and never mind the worried expressions on Wen Qing's face, on Wen Ning's face, even Lan Wangji, who had just turned up at their camp one day and refused to leave...no, Wei Wuxian wasn't surprised by the request.
He just hadn't expected it to be phrased like that.
"I can't," he said, recovering a moment later. "As long as there are Wen-dogs out there - from the other side, I mean - the Jiang sect hasn't been avenged."
"I know that," Nie Mingjue said with...admirable restraint, actually. Wei Wuxian cringed a little as he remembered that Nie Mingjue was involved in this war for the purpose of avenging his father's death at Wen Ruohan’s hands. "But that's not your job. It's time to stop playing lone wolf and return to the sect that raised you. If nothing else, Jiang Wanyin could use a right hand man."
Wei Wuxian stared. He'd searched furiously for Jiang Cheng without success, days and nights stretching out endlessly only for hope to fade and be replaced by a frantic need for revenge; it had been that desperation, mixed with guilt over losing her prospective patient, that had convinced Wen Qing to officially defect. And now Nie Mingjue was saying - what? That he, Wei Wuxian, was the one missing in action?
That he knew where Jiang Cheng was?
"...he's been recruiting to resurrect the Jiang sect for the last month down by Qingjiao. Did you not know?"
Wei Wuxian hadn't. Jiang Cheng was - fine? All right? How could he have gotten to Qingjiao in the state he'd been in?
And...recruiting? How could someone without a golden core recruit? Nie Mingjue didn't seem to know about the loss, or he would have mentioned it, surely - everyone would be talking about it - had Jiang Cheng found some other way? But how? And why hadn't he come to find Wei Wuxian?
Well, in fairness, Wei Wuxian wasn't making himself easy to find, traveling in secret with only his few companions. But still...
"He really does need support," Nie Mingjue said. "He has Mistress Jiang, but she's not the martial type, and that little sworn brother he picked up from who-knows-where might be a brilliant talent and a hero for the ages in the making, but Baoshan Sanren's disciple or not, the kid is still only half-grown -"
"Baoshan Sanren's what?!"
"Jiang Wanyin's little sworn brother. His name is Xiao Xingchen, and he's twelve. Maybe fourteen. Far too young, in my opinion -"
"I'm sorry," Wei Wuxian interrupted. "I have to go now. Right now."
-
"About time you showed up," Jiang Cheng said, though his snide words were belied by the wide grin on his face and the way he pulled Wei Wuxian into a fierce hug. "I heard you've been doing wonders in the three months and a day I was gone, and in the month since I’ve been back...you got those Wen to defect, invented a new type of cultivation...what's this I hear about you and Lan Wangji sharing a camp, huh? I thought he hated you."
"Uh, no, turns out that was a misunderstanding," Wei Wuxian - who was currently sharing a lot more than a camp with Lan Wangji once that misunderstanding had been cleared up after Wen Qing had lost patience with what she termed their 'ridiculous mutual pining' - said blankly. It was probably just his imagination, but he fancied that he could feel the golden core under Jiang Cheng's skin, shining bright, as familiar as his own. If he hadn't known what he knew, he would never have thought... "What happened? How did you...?"
"Baoshan Sanren fixed it! Just like you said...though you went to such lengths, with the blindfold and pretending to be you and all that. Apparently it wasn’t necessary at all!"
"Uh, right. My…mistake."
Jiang Cheng pulled him into another hug, nice and tight, and whispered into his ear, "You had better not have been planning to transfer me yours, you bastard."
Wei Wuxian blanched. How had he figured it out..?
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Jiang Cheng said, releasing him and rolling his eyes. "You're a lot like your mother, you know?"
"My mother? What are you talking about?"
Jiang Cheng's crooked grin was the most wonderful thing Wei Wuxian had ever seen.
"It's a long story," he said. "Probably as long as yours, for explaining everything you've been up to for the past few months...but we'll have time to talk it over. Baoshan Sanren is big fan of talking things over, almost to the point of ridiculousness, but I think she has a point, even if none of her disciples agree. It's made me feel better these past few months, anyway, talking about what happened, whether with the Wen sect or even just frustrations I had growing up..."
He laughed at Wei Wuxian's dumbfounded expression.
"Like I said," he said. "Long story. Come meet little Xiao, will you? We're going to need to work together and put in all our efforts to keep him out of trouble -"
"He's a brat, then?"
"No, worse: he's an idealist. You'll understand when you meet him."
Wei Wuxian let himself be dragged along by Jiang Cheng's eagerness, and he was about halfway across the new Jiang sect camp before it suddenly struck him that this was really happening. That Jiang Cheng was back, alive and healthy beyond Wei Wuxian's wildest dreams, whole once more in both mind and body - that they were side by side once more, finally back on track to fulfill his childish promise of them being the Twin Heroes to match the Twin Jades - that his lies had somehow transmuted to truth, and it was all resolved without sacrifice...
The first smile in what felt like months stole across Wei Wuxian's face.
"All right," he said, laughing and slapping Jiang Cheng on the back as hard as he could. "Show me this new little brother of yours - I can't wait to spoil him rotten!"
"Tease him to death, you mean!"
"No, no, I can be good! Wen Qing has this little cousin, an orphan, I've been helping out with him - I have child-rearing skills -"
"I don't believe a word of it. Is it Mistress Wen or Second Master Lan that does all the work?"
"...Wen Ning, mostly, but that's not the point..."
Life, Wei Wuxian thought to himself, was good once more.
#mdzs#wei wuxian#wen qing#jiang cheng#baoshan sanren#cangse sanren#xiao xingcheng#nie mingjue#my fic#my fics#short old ficlets that I keep forgetting to post
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A Moment of Jealousy | S.R.
Summary: Reader offers to help Spencer when he needs a plus one to go to his friend's wedding. What she didn't expect was to feel so angry when one of your coworkers starts flirting with him.
Warnings:female reader, no use of (Y/N); jealousy; fake dating; fluff; little bit of angst; friends to lovers; coworkers to lovers; mentions fo drinking; mild smut (+18); secret relationship until it isn't.
Word Count: 4.1K
Requested by: @hb-writes
A/N: Hey there, love. I'm sorry it took me forever to fill your request, but I got carried away and made it a whole oneshot instead of just a blurb. A special thanks to @foxy-eva for beta-reading this one.
SPENCER REID MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | FOLLOW MY WRITING AT @mysteryslibrary
You tried, really hard, not to let people know how annoyed you were by the situation.
“I didn’t know you two were together,” Elizabeth says, surprised.
“Not for long, so we’re keeping it low while everything is still new,” Spencer answers, smiling at you. You smile back, looking at Elizabeth who was already staring back at you.
“I heard about how you arrested that guy last week. It must have been scary.”
“Yeah, it was but I had backup, so I knew it would be okay to push it a little bit.”
“Everybody’s impressed, I heard people in the white-collar department talking about it.
“It was a team effort.” You smile, politely.
“Teamwork is difficult in its own way, it must be harder on you two. Spencer is so clever and you are so…” she paused, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, “so strong.”
Blinking once, twice, you force yourself to give her a grim smile, but after that, the conversation turned into a blur for you. It took everything in you not to take it personally, you and Spencer were not dating after all, but the comparison just made you feel… inappropriate. Like you weren’t enough to be with someone like him.
When Elizabeth finally left, you could barely control your feelings.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you exclaimed, making Spencer turn his head to look at you.
“What happened,” he asked, confused.
“What happened? What happened, seriously,” you asked, incredulous. “What fucking happened is that Elizabeth has been flirting with you for the past hour and you did nothing to stop her,” sneering, you made sure to spell her name with a sickly sweet voice.
Spencer frowned, turning his head to search for Elizabeth, who, of course, was looking back at him, trying to look demure as she waved at him right before putting a loose strand of hair behind her ear. In his defense, he did look oblivious to agent Parker’s advances towards him, which did absolutely nothing to wane your anger. When he looked back at you, something seemed to click inside that big brain of his.
“Oh,” he exclaimed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, “you’re jealous.”
“I am…” it took you a moment to process his words, “Am I what?”
“Jealous,” he promptly answered. “Of Elizabeth,” Spencer made sure to stress her name and you wondered, for a second, where that smug smile came from.
“You’re fucking delusional, Doctor. I’m just worried about how you’re making me look like a complete idiot by flirting with Agent Parker. We’re supposed to be a fucking couple, after all.”
“Yeah, I know,” he nodded, “and that was your idea.”
“To save your ass, because you’re always alone in those kinds of events and you didn’t want to come with that woman Morgan set you up with… What was her name? Kristen?”
“Lauren,” Spencer corrected, putting his hands in his pockets, smirking.
Of course he remembered the name.
“Whatever. It does matter that your friend is getting married, you didn’t want to come alone and I’m here to help you. All I’m asking in exchange is that you don’t make me look like a fool by flirting with someone else.”
"That 's it,” he asked, taking a step closer.
“Yeah,” you nodded, skipping a breath as he stepped closer again, resting one of his hands on the small of your back, “that’s it.”
“Now, you see, I don’t believe you.”
He was so close that you could hear his breath and feel the heat of his body.
“What I do believe, is that you came here with me because you didn’t want anybody else in your place, anybody else with me, and that you’re so riled up by Elizabeth talking to me only because you’re jealous of her, even though all the poor woman did was compliment you the whole time.”
“I… what?”
“She’s interested in you, not me,” Spencer explained and suddenly you felt more like a fool than before.
Looking over his shoulder you could see the disappointed look on Elizabeth's face as she looked at the two of you, but she did smile when your eyes met and, even in the distance, you could swear she was blushing.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” Spencer laughed.
“This doesn’t mean that I’m jealous.”
“Oh, it doesn't?”
“No, it does not,” you answered, blinking a couple of times, still trying to process what was happening.
“So you wouldn't mind if I wanted to leave right now, taking you to your home and deciding to go out with Lauren? She texted me a few minutes ago.”
You bit your tongue before answering a faint, “No.”
Spencer hummed, letting go of you and offering his hand for you to take.
“Let’s go then, we already did what was supposed to be done here. Don’t want to let Lauren wait.”
“You… what?” For a moment, you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Here you were, doing him a favor, and he was paying you back by talking to another woman all this time? “If you’ve been talking to her all this time you should've brought her with you, not me,” you exclaimed, letting go of his hand, walking past him only to hear him laugh.
Turning around, you saw Spencer smiling smugly and all you wanted at that moment was to wipe it out of his face.
“What’s so funny, Reid?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yes,” he confirmed, “you.”
“What’s so funny about me,” you asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest.
“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
“How many times I gotta say that I’m not… Wait, you just said that I’m cute?”
“That’s what you registered from what I said?” he asked, with a hint of amusement in his tone.
“No, good Doctor, I was saying that I’m not…”
You never got to finish the sentence because Spencer pulled you to him by the hand and planted his lips on yours and, suddenly, you didn’t want to talk anymore. All you wanted was to be able to feel his lips against yours all the time.
Spencer wasn’t half as gentle as you imagined him to be. His hands gripped you tight, keeping you impossibly close to him, and his chapped lips were hungry against your own. When you both came up for air he gave you a quick peck, smiling.
“There’s no Lauren.”
Still in a daze from the kiss, it took you a minute to process his words.
“What?”
“There’s no Lauren. There never was. Morgan just said he was tired from both of us circling around each other, so when the wedding invitation came up he took it upon himself to bring us together. He said you would be jealous about me bringing someone else to the party, so he created that someone.”
“Morgan… what?” Still confused, you were unable to form a coherent sentence.
You were going to kill Derek.
“He wasn’t exactly wrong, was he?”
“You were on board with that?”
He smiled, sheepishly, looking a little bit guilty.
“I’m gonna kill you…”
Again, you were interrupted mid-sentence by Spencer’s lips on yours. Not that you were complaining.
“You’re not going to kill anyone,” he said, both of you out of breath. “Here’s what is going to happen. We’re going to say our goodbyes to the newlyweds, I’m going to take you home, and you’re going to invite me for coffee.”
When you opened your mouth to speak Spencer silenced you again, this time by resting his thumb against your lips.
“Ah,” he reprimanded. “We’re both going up and we’re gonna have a talk about what is happening between us. Okay?”
You weren’t sure what did it for you: maybe it was the hazel of his eyes shining so brightly as he looked at you or his honeyed voice as he told you what was going to happen, maybe it was the way he was holding you so close to his body that made you so comfortable it felt like home. What you were sure of was that there was no point in trying to hide it anymore.
“Okay,” you sighed, relaxing into his arms much to Spencer’s content.
He kissed your forehead, releasing you from his arms and clasping your hand in his instead. When you two turned around to say your goodbyes, there were a couple of people staring at you, including Elizabeth. You shied away from their stares, noticing a blushing Spencer guide you through the crowd. Then you felt a hand grasping your arm gently, making you stop and see an old lady, who you recognized as the bride’s grandmother, smiling at you.
“It’s so beautiful to see such a young couple like yourselves be so in love with each other. It reminds me of me and my husband, we were married for 63 years until he passed away. There will be hard times, but don’t give up on love. I wish you two the very best,” she patted your hand and left, smiling.
You looked at Spencer dumbfounded, finding him looking at you already, a smile on his face. Spencer only squeezed your hand, leading you to the newlyweds before you two left the reception, looking for a taxi.
The ride to your home was silent, your hands intertwined as both of you looked through the windows in opposite directions. After you entered your apartment things shifted from 1 to 100 in a second.
Before you could understand what was happening, Spencer had you pressed between his body and your door, his lips hungry against yours. Responding in kind, your hands found his hair, tugging at it and making him moan against your lips.
Walking both of you to the couch, you gently pushed Spencer to fall against it, quickly straddling his hips before you could lose the courage to do so. Your kisses were greedy, his hands trailing up your thighs, hiking your dress in between his fingers.
You lost no time in freeing him from his jacket, and then his tie, making quick work of unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt, trailing kisses along his jaw and down his throat.
“Wait,” he mumbled, holding both your hands in his own, making you stop to look at him. “We need to talk.”
He was right. That was what you were here for in the first place, you were just too lost in each other and ended up caught up in the moment.
“Yeah,” you nodded, taking a deep breath, “yeah, you’re right.”
You two stared at each other for a moment before kissing again. It was too easy to lose yourself in him, but you really needed to talk so, despite your desires, it was your turn to part from him.
“Coffee,” you murmured against his lips.
Spencer nodded, eyes traveling down your figure as you got up, observing as you set your dress straight.
“Yeah, coffee.”
The two of you looked at each other for a moment too long and before you could change your mind, you turned around and left for the kitchen to start making your coffee.
Suddenly there was a presence behind you, strong hands at your waist pulling you close to his body while Spencer trailed kisses down your neck.
“What happened with talking?”
He turned you around in a swift motion, helping you up to sit on the kitchen counter and making quick work of standing between your legs.
“We can talk later.”
And then his lips were on yours and everything else faded to black. There was nothing but him, the feeling of his hands roaming your body, the taste of him on your tongue. It had always been easy for you to get lost in Spencer: in his words, the way he talked, his mannerisms. You shouldn’t have been surprised at how natural it felt to get lost in his touch, letting desire take over as you two melted against one another.
You were too hungry for each other, kissing and grabbing at whatever bit of skin was revealed. One of your hands rested against his chest, right above his heart, feeling his heartbeat, delighted when you noticed how each one of them matched yours. It was as if everything the both of you had gone through was supposed to end here, at this moment, when you were so in tune with one another that even your heartbeats were in sync.
“I want you,” he panted against your lips.
“Then have me,” you answered, before he joined your bodies, making you gasp his name, eyes closing as you gave yourself to him completely.
Waking up next to Spencer should have made you feel in the clouds but it had the opposite effect. Thinking about the previous night, you became worried that all that had been just a one-time thing, maybe the alcohol talking, some unresolved sexual tension that would probably dissolve now that you two got it out of the way. How would it be at work? Would it change anything? Of course, it would, there was no way you would be able to ignore what had happened. You hated how your brain simply wouldn’t let you be happy for more than two seconds.
Spencer stirred awake, slowly stretching his long limbs beside you before resting an arm around your waist, and nuzzling your hair.
“‘Morning,” he mumbled in a raspy voice, nuzzling your hair.
“‘Morning,” you answered, basking in his warmth and affection, forgetting your worries for a second.
Considering how averse to touch Spencer is, you were pleasantly surprised at how good he was with his hands and mouth. Despite the fact that both of you were a little tipsy, Spencer made sure to explore every inch of your body, seemingly as much touch-starved as you were.
Leaning in, he captured your lips in his, kissing you lazily as both of you started to process being awake.
“We should’ve done that sooner,” he said, leaning into his elbow to be able to look at you.
“What? Have a good night of sleep?” You joked, grinning at him.
Spencer smiled back, quickly tickling you, making you squirm and beg for him to stop. When he finally relents, you look at him, both of you wearing big smiles.
“We never got to talk last night.” You laid on your back, looking for his reaction.
“Do we need to? Because I think things are pretty clear after what happened.” He grins.
Playfully, you slapped his arm and silence filled the room for a moment.
“What now?” you asked.
“I think it is safe to say that we both want to try this out or we wouldn’t be here. So we do just that, take it slow, see what happens.”
Nodding, you snuggled closer to him. Spencer pulls you to rest partially on top of him, kissing your hairline.
“Do we need a label?” you asked.
“Not if you don’t want one.”
“Do you need one?” You asked, lifting your head to look at him.
“Not as long as I have you.” He answered, leaning in to peck your lips.
“Coffee?” You grinned, making him laugh.
“Coffee.”
Never in your life would you imagine that after one night, just one night, it would be so difficult to pretend that anything has happened between you and Spencer.
Of course, you were prepared for that when you offered to go with him to the wedding, but you also didn’t imagine that you two would end up in your bed, so you were kinda expecting that things would be less awkward. The team would ask how things had gone, and you would tell them how the party sucked and that was it.
Instead, you had to be careful to not look all lovey-dovey when you arrived in the bullpen, after having to part ways before going into the building to avoid letting people know you two have come to work together.
As you expected, Penelope was waiting for you as you stepped out of the elevator, dragging you to the Batcave before you could utter a word.
“Tell me, how was it?”
She was practically bouncing on her chair, excitedly waiting for your answer.
You had to bite the inside of your cheek before answering.
“Boring,” you answered.
It was partially true. You were never a fan of weddings, even more when you don’t know anybody, so the ceremony, even though beautiful, was not enough to get your attention. After the reception, though…
“Oh, common, you can do better than that.” She complained. “Was the bride beautiful?”
“Yeah, she was. Very traditional, white dress, pretty flowers and all that jazz.”
“And boy wonder?” She asked, a hint of mischief in her smile.
“Spencer was… Spencer.” Which was more than enough for you. “He was, you know, wearing a suit, worn out converse, just… Spencer.”
“And I bet girls were all over him.”
You chuckled a bit at that, remembering Elizabeth.
“Yeah, they were.”
“Nothing more for you to tell me?” she inquired.
“We got out of the party, Spencer took me home, and we’re here now. That's it. Nothing interesting to talk about.” You said, omitting the in-between Spencer taking you home and you two get to work.”
“That sucks,” Penelope complained, making you laugh.
“Sorry for disappointing you.” You shrugged, getting up and patting her shoulder.
“There’s always next time.”
You met Spencer at his desk. Looking around before approaching him, making sure no one was around, you nodded at him.
“JJ and Emily got me the moment I entered the bullpen.” He complained, making you smile in sympathy.
“Pen was waiting for me outside by the elevator.”
He hissed, opening and closing his hands, which you deduced was his way of avoiding reaching out to you.
“This leaves us with Rossi and Hotch,” he said.
“They won’t ask.” You assure him, before thinking again. “I think.”
“Maybe not to us.”
“Well, they do have the girls as a source of gossip.” You sighed.
“Derek on the other hand…” Spencer started, trailing off as you two saw Morgan enter the room.
He looked at the both of you like he knew something the others didn’t. And he did know, considering how he and Spencer had planned the whole “Lauren” thing.
Pretending nothing happened and ignoring the smirk on your friend’s face, you head to your desk, preparing yourself for work.
Not long after, you got him alone in the kitchen under the pretense of getting a refill, standing beside him as you stirred the fresh coffee in your mug.
“You’re gonna regret this.” You said, giving him a side glance.
“Regret what, pretty girl?” Derek asked, turning around to lean into the counter, eyes fixed on you. “Getting you and pretty boy together?”
“We’re not together.” You answered quickly, taking a sip of your coffee to distract yourself.
“Come on, you may have tricked the rest with your lies but don’t forget that I know everything about Lauren.” He grinned.
“Yeah, that’s the reason why you should watch your back.” You smiled sweetly at him, the slightest treat in your tone.
“Should I be worried, pretty girl?” He smiled back, sipping his coffee.
“Oh, I don’t know. You know how people are, someone could share some compromising photos of a certain agent when he was a child, or maybe tell your baby girl about you ignored her advice and went to dinner with that girl… What was her name? Oh, Vivian, right?”
“You wouldn’t.” He said, a hint of worry when you mentioned Penelope.
“Just watch your back, Morgan.”
It only took the time for you to reach the door for his voice to ring in your ears again.
“Or I could always tell people how our pretty boy and pretty girl are now a pretty couple.”
Not daring to turn around to look at him, you gripped your mug tighter, trying to mask
“We’re not a couple, I already…”
He interrupted you, saying, “You arrived together.”
You gulped, closing your eyes and swearing mentally.
“We did not,” you denied.
“Pretty girl, I saw you two in the parking lot,” Derek explained, standing beside you.
“Derek, you won’t…”
“My lips are sealed.” He said, making a zip signal. “But if you wanna keep this low you two have to be more careful. Penelope might have bought your story this time but you know how she is.”
“I know, I know. She’s going to kill the both of us when she discovers this.” You said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “We just want to take things slow.”
“I’m not blaming you for not coming out in the open about this now, just take care.” He said, getting closer and placing a kiss on your forehead. “And just so you know, I’m glad that you both are figuring this out, whatever it is.”
You smiled, “Thanks, Derek.”
It was a slow day, with lots of paperwork and boring stuff.
“Drinks tonight. Who's game?” Emily asks, getting up from her chair and picking up her jacket.
JJ nodded, “I’ll let Will know that I’ll be out a little late.”
“You don’t even have to ask,” Derek said.
Spencer looked your way and silently agreed that going out for drinks with a bunch of profilers so soon wasn’t a good idea.
“I think I’ll pass this time.” You said, not making a move to leave. “Yesterday I had drinks enough for a couple of days.”
“Giving trouble to Spencer, huh,” JJ said.
Spencer blushed a little. “Just a little bit.”
Everybody laughed as you rolled your eyes, trying to avoid thinking about the kind of trouble you’ve had given him.
Morgan looked at you with a hint of a smile on his lips.
"Let's go then. Hotch and Rossi will meet us there in a few, I’ll go get Penelope.” He said, leaving.
“Spencer?” JJ asked.
“Not today, thanks,” he refuses.
“She really gave you trouble yesterday, huh?” JJ joked, before saying her goodbyes to you two.
“You have no idea,” Spencer mumbled under his breath, a smirk on his face.
You throw a ball of paper at him, making him laugh. After that, the both of you prepare to leave in silence, walking together to the elevator.
“My house or yours?” Spencer asked.
“Aren’t we going a little too fast?”
“Haven’t we danced around each other long enough?” He retorted, looking at you.
“Mine.”
In the end, going slow turned out to be far from what both of you wanted. When Spencer wasn’t in your apartment, you were in his, and it was becoming more and more difficult to hide things from your colleagues.
There were countless times in the past few months when you two almost got caught by them. The last one had been in the kitchen when the two of you were getting coffee and Spencer took the risk of taking your hand and his at the same time that Emily entered. You were quick to drop your mug as a diversion, but it was close enough to make the two of you try and distance yourself a little more at work. That seemed to work until one of the times the team decided to go out after a case.
You had roomed with Emily, making it impossible for you and Spencer to see each other for over a week. The both of you were touch starved, having missed each other more than anything despite having seen each other every day. That leads you to this fateful moment.
“So that’s what you two have been sneaking around these past few months,” Emily exclaimed, making you and Spencer jump away from each other.
“If we tell you that this is not what you’re thinking, it won’t work, right?” Spencer asked with his big brown eyes, looking as guilty as someone could be.
“Absolutely not.” She said looking between the two of you with a smirk on her lips. “We’ve been betting on how much time you two would be oblivious over the fact that we all knew.”
“You knew?” You asked and Emily nodded. “All of you?”
“The wedding, right?” She asked, making you try and get your jaw off the floor.
“Fuck,” you and Spencer spoke at the same time.
“Come on, lovebirds. Let’s go downstairs and meet the others for drinks.”
You looked at Spencer, that only shrugged, taking your hand in his so you could follow Emily to the elevator. At that moment, you thought that everything was falling into place. You had Spencer and that’s what mattered.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds imagine#reader insert#amysteryspot#mystery writings#+18
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okay I'm not sure I'd you're still doing the uh. thing where you write a scene from a different pov but if you are and have time/interest, would you feel like doing poe pov with that part in directions where he asks how many other guys she's been with? I love love love that fic so much btw and I'm gonna go through your masterlist when I get off work <3
Hello! ✨ A little confession: some of these have been sitting in my inbox for months. I secretly didn't plan on fulfilling this request because it meant that I'd need to go re-read Directions, and I very rarely read my own writing again once it's been posted. But I was in the mood for something fun and easy, and then I actually had a great time revisiting this story! So thank you so so much @buckyisdisabled, @lostinwonderland314, @mandaloriandin and sweet Yearning Human anon for asking for this and for your lovely messages. I really hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it x
Pairing: Poe Dameron x F!Reader
Word Count: 3.5k
Rating: Explicit 18+
Warnings: PIV, creampie, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, squirting, feelings, implied cum eating, overstimulation, masturbation, friends to lovers
This is reworking of a scene from this fic, told from Poe’s POV.
from a certain point of view ask game ✨
———
———
Poe sucks his slick fingers into his mouth, and her taste hits his head like spice; sharp and sweet.
She pants up at him from his pillow (his pillow) her eyes wide as a nervous animal’s, her hands curled into fists. It takes everything he has not to blow his load in his pants right then and there.
He feels a little drunk. He needs to course-correct.
Drastically.
He’d meant it when he told her he thought this would be fun. Because everything is, with her. He thought she’d be giving him shit the whole time. He’d expected her to be unimpressed with him in the way only she ever is; doing what she does best and keeping his feet nailed to solid ground even while his head did tailspins around the sound of her laughing at him.
But she’s not laughing at him. The way she’s looking up at him…
This, right here, is extremely fucking serious for her.
Maybe he should’ve tried to make this nicer. Maybe he should’ve lit candles.
For reasons that are not entirely clear, he catches himself remembering a particularly fucked up day from several months back. His comms and tracking had both shorted out after a hit in the middle of an above-planet dogfight with no visual, and for about two hours, the Resistance network listed him PKIA.
When he’d eventually landed back in the hanger, it was chaotic with smoking, twisted astromech parts. Unbeknownst to him, Black One was a ghost ship.
Mechanics and pilots alike had turned and gaped in silent shock as he’d climbed out of his cockpit, and he’d only had a moment to wonder whether there was something growing out of the top of his head before he’d been knocked off his feet by a sobbing projectile stinking of sweat and smoke in an oil-stained flightsuit.
She’d only stopped crying after socking him in the chest, her voice hoarse as she told him how much of an idiot he was for not switching over to his backup signal.
He’d never wanted to see that look on her face ever again, and if he hadn’t pushed her into verbalising the source of her terror here, he’d be too turned off to go any further. He doesn’t go in for that shit; he wants his partners relaxed and comfortable and enthusiastically willing.
But it’s knowing what she’s actually worrying about—stuck in her head as always, thinking about everyone else; what he thinks of her, rather than focusing on how she feels—that makes him determined to stick with her, as long as she says.
He’s staggered by the amount of trust she’s putting in him. Shit, he doesn’t know whether it makes his heart ache more, or his dick. Like she has anything to be nervous about. Like she isn’t the prettiest fucking girl he knows. Like making her smile isn’t the single greatest source of pride he gets to hold over himself.
Doesn’t she know? Can’t she already fucking tell? He’d worship the ground she walks on if he knew she wouldn’t laugh herself sick at him if he tried.
It would be funny, if it weren’t so painful. That for all of her quick, sharp perception, she’d miss this, so entirely.
“Perfect. You’re perfect,” he says softly, and he can see how little she believes him. “Told you. Nothing wrong with you. I wanna try something,” he continues, before she can say anything to piss him off. He can handle her putting shit on him. He isn’t letting her do it to herself. “You’ll like it, I promise. And if you don’t just tell me and we’ll stop. Okay?”
“Okay,” she says, nodding, her eyes still huge. A sudden throb of affection makes his head feel like it’s filled with tibanna gas.
“I’m gonna take your pants off,” he tells her, grasping each of her ankles to do exactly this.
She lifts her ass toward him as he wriggles her underwear and pants over her legs, giving him a brief glimpse of the most beautiful view he’s ever seen in his life.
His brain’s still catching up when he sees the furtive way her eyes keep flicking down toward where it feels like his dick’s trying to bust through his fly.
“Don’t you want…?”
“It’s not about me,” he cuts her off. And if you touch me right now I won’t make it, and I’ll ruin my reputation, and kill any chance of living any of this shit down with you ever again, he decides not to add.
He bends, spreading her legs with both hands. Her clit’s so swollen her labia are parted around it, the soft skin inside her thighs smeared with her first orgasm.
Her first orgasm—the first one another person’s given her, anyway—and it’s his.
And, oh, it had been so easy.
His ego is not immune to this.
But, nice as it is, it doesn’t quite feel like a boost in the traditional sense. It feels something more like a twinge, hard and new, right under his ribcage. Like vindication, maybe, or—and he feels like a fucking moron for even thinking it—fate.
He bows from the waist and nudges into her with his nose, his tongue laving a stripe up the entire length of her pussy.
Her skin tastes like soap. Somewhere in the dimmest corners of his head he’s annoyed at this; imagines her scouring every inch of herself raw in the showers before coming to him, filled with nerves and doubt under the spray. He presses the muscle of his tongue into her opening in search of more of the her he’d found on his fingers.
The sound she makes zips lightning-hot straight to his guts.
His eyes roll briefly closed, and he sinks down onto his elbows, the twisted line of the sheets digging into his skin under his weight.
She shifts her thighs together, her fingers twitching at her side. He steals a glance up and finds her watching him, her lips parted, her eyes too-bright.
“Open your legs,” he encourages, his lips barely lifting from her skin. She sinks her teeth into her lip as she lets her knees fall flat to the bed.
She’s spread out open in front of him, and he dips his head to continue.
She flinches and tenses and exhales in turn, reacting to every touch of his mouth as though speaking aloud. It makes him feel violently impatient, and so he moves slower, trying to temper himself.
He wants to be inside her.
He wants to swallow her, and to be swallowed by her. Fuck, he’s never wanted anything more in his life.
He’s pretty sure he’s leaking precum into his pants; all the blood having long vacated his brain to swell bruise-achingly hard in his cock. He tries to stay focused, but the reality is that Poe’s thoughts ran away from him the second she set foot in his room. The challenge now is to just try not to do something stupid.
Something stupider than fucking his best friend.
She hisses, tossing her head back, her legs twitching so hard his tongue nearly loses its place against the hot nub of her clit.
He slides both hands beneath her thighs to lift her hips to his face in an attempt to keep her still, barely managing to tamp down the urge to rut helplessly against the mattress in search of relief.
The smell of her, the taste, fills his senses. But it’s still not enough. He wants to bring her to insensibility; to work that softness into the bed, glutting himself until her whimpers turn to those of overstimulation.
He’d never really considered himself a possessive person, but as she quietly sucks in a sharp, shallow breath, he realises he wants that sound all to himself.
He pulls it out of her with his tongue again, and again, his attention unwavering.
He wants her thinking of this, of him, from now on. Every single time she comes, alone or otherwise. He wants her to dream about him inside her; tongue, fingers, cock, he doesn’t give a fuck. At briefings. At meals. Waiting around bored for launch clearance in her fighter, standing alone in the showers, when someone else presses their hands to her skin, and lifts her chin to meet her lips (and fuck, that hurts to think about, like hitting realspace at-speed, hard enough to grind his bones together).
She comes with a pained-sounding cry, her pubic bone bumping into his nose and pushing his face away. He drags himself up and finds her reaching her hands out as though to stop him.
“You okay?” he manages.
“Poe, I want…please…”
“What, baby? Talk to me.” He leans up, bracing himself over her. Maybe she’s changed her mind. Maybe she’s had enough and she’s going to tell him to stop, to give her back her pants, to never mention any of this again.
It’s still more than he’d ever imagined he’d get.
Her eyes stay on his and she blinks slowly at him, as though trying to remember who he is. His heart thunks hollowly in his chest, and he waits.
“Fuck me.”
He pauses. It wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. His already-painful cock jumps in his pants at the demand. “You need a break first?”
She answers by trying to drag him down toward her, her hips lifting to press against him, ankles hooked around the backs of his legs.
He doesn’t wait to be told twice. He shifts his weight, kicking his pants down, settling himself between her legs.
She ducks her chin and kisses his shoulder.
His head swims. He barely feels the touch of her lips through the material of his shirt, but it hardly matters. The gesture is so small, so careful, so quick, as though she couldn’t help herself.
As though it’s something she’s thought of before.
Which is when it hits him: the one thing he’s never seriously let himself entertain. Does he…actually have a chance?
Without undue vanity, Poe knows that his looks are the one area, at least, that he can afford not to worry about. He’s not an idiot. He knows exactly how people respond when he flashes his teeth at them, or holds their eyes with his own for a protracted moment from beneath a quirked eyebrow.
But never her. She’s somehow always been frustratingly, crushingly immune to every single weapon in his arsenal. It had been a source of ire in the early days, while he was still learning the colour of her voice, and the shape of her mind.
The sadder, slower ache of acceptance had come later; gathering like thunderheads, lingering long.
She wasn’t for him. She didn’t want to be. Letting himself pretend otherwise would have only ever been an exercise in masochism.
Despite all of this, Poe’s still human. And, as he had come to realise, knowing something intellectually is very different to knowing it physically.
Whenever she smiles at him, and bumps into him, and rolls her eyes at him. Whenever he’s inside somebody else, tasting the sweat on their skin, or stretched out around their pleasure. Whenever he jerks his cock alone in his bunk late at night, ashamed and furious at himself for such a disgraceful breach of their friendship, for the things he’s imagined.
Everything he’s ever done with anybody else; every filthy, beautiful fucking thing, he’d turn himself inside out and crawl over hot coals to do again with her, to her, for her, if she wanted.
And now, here she is.
He might not ever get another shot at this.
He needs to make it count.
“How many other guys’ve you been with?” he says, his voice coming out rough. She looks mortified, but he doesn’t care. “How many?”
“S-six,” she says.
He nods. He’d already known about Kip and Terrett, and he’d had his suspicions about Rau and Valen. He’s a little disappointed at the knowledge that Rau had let her down with all the others; he wouldn’t have expected it.
“Then that’s six other times we gotta make up for,” he says, distractedly.
He presses forward, and the first millimetre he sinks inside her already has him panicking.
She immediately feels far too hot and close, but the hardest part, the part threatening to undo everything, is the way she’s looking up at him, as though silently pleading with him, and Gods, how she doesn’t need to.
“Oh, sh...shit. You good? I’m good. That’s…ungh, so fucking good.” He’s aware he’s making no sense, but that’s the only thing left in his head, probably the only thing he’ll ever know again: good, good, good.
Her fingers are clenched tight around his forearm, and he thinks she might be holding her breath, but then she lets it go, and the wet bloom of her cunt swallows him fractionally deeper.
“You’re doing so good baby, you’re taking me so well, you feel perfect,” he groans, hoping he doesn’t sound as wrecked as he feels, his guts on fire with need.
She squirms under him, and fuck, she feels incredible. After coming twice he can feel the evidence of how wet she is, the smooth glide of her body gripping close around him, giving way slowly.
It’s suddenly too fucking hot in his room. He can feel his hair sticking to the back of his neck and around his ears, and it’s vaguely annoying, but he couldn’t give a shit.
Her warm breath meets his chin, and he follows the line of her attention down the length of his own body, to the place where his hips are flush against hers. Between her parted legs he can see his cock half-sunk inside her, and his face presses to her damp, salty skin as he murmurs to her, pressing forward, enveloped entirely by her.
He has no idea what he’s saying. It just feels important for her to know.
Whatever it is, he never gets the chance to find out.
Because then she’s kissing him, and her mouth is on his and her lips are parting and they’re soft and her teeth are catching at the dry ege of his lower lip and her breath is hot and it’s hers and it’s in his mouth and it’s in his lungs and it’s oxygenating his fucking blood and pumping through his heart and his brain and searing through every single part of him until she’s all that’s left.
He’s pretty sure he’s dying.
“Holy fuck,” he thinks he’s trying to say, and he feels her smiling, gently biting into his lip, keeping him quiet.
She rolls her hips up against his, pushing herself off the bed. He can feel himself rapidly losing control as she throws her head back, her brows drawn, teeth cutting into her own lip.
“Baby, wait, wait a sec,” he pants.
“What’s wrong?” she gasps, and of course she doesn’t listen; she never fucking listens to him, rocking up toward him, making him see stars.
“Just…fuck, hang on.” Cold showers, he thinks, grimly. Freezing cold showers, and depressurised-cockpit earaches. Nine hour-long diplomatic debriefs. The rancid-smelling mucus trail Klaud leaves behind everywhere he goes.
“Is this…not good?” she says, low and weak. “Poe?”
His eyes nearly roll back in his head as she whispers his name, and the sound jolts through him—her voice, the one he knows so well—like this, with him.
Whatever pitiful electricity’s still left in the meat of his brain fizzles out. “Oh shit, say my name again,” he begs, not even waiting for her to do so.
He’s already moving, needing to feel the walls of her cunt stroking and sucking at his cock. “D’you know how many times I’ve thought about this? About being inside you like this? And I never, ever thought you’d wanna…”
He shouldn’t be saying this. He’s gotta be real fucking careful, if he doesn’t want to accidentally tell her every shameful daydream he’s ever had about her and disintegrate what’s left of their friendship into dust.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he tells her instead. “Your pussy is perfect.”
She recoils, and it’s equal parts adorable and infuriating that even now she’d be embarrassed to hear him say this.
He almost laughs. “Why’s that make you shy? You don’t like me talking about your pussy? You wanna know how good you taste, baby? You’re sweet, so sweet and tight and—” and fuck, he can still taste her on his lips, and he watches her carefully, finding the place that makes her fall boneless and focusing there, right there, until the viselike grip on his arms weakens and she’s coming again.
Her voice breaks, but he doesn’t slow. She can take it.
He pushes her hips down, fucking her into the mattress, skin clapping on skin. She’s yanking at his hair hard enough to hurt, but he relishes the pain because it keeps his vision clear; exactly where he wants to be.
Her orgasm tumbles into another, and he seizes her knees, lifting her toward him as he picks up his pace. She moans, belatedly trying to cover the sound with her hand, and it’s the sweetest music he’s ever heard. He is never, ever going to be able to get that sound out of his head again.
“Hey, hey. Let me hear that,” he says, leaning closer, dragging her hand away. “Don’t you cover that up. Come on, baby, I wanna hear you.” She presses her lips together, and he huffs, driving himself into her just a little harder than strictly necessary.
He’s rewarded with a weak, throaty whimper, and he grins at her. “That’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” he confesses.
Her nipples stand through the thin, sweat-sheer fabric of her tank top, her softness rippling upwards with every stroke. He watches her body greedily, wanting more, wanting everything all at once.
He wants, very badly, to lick her again, all the way from her neck to her sweet, trembling cunt. He can still taste her on his tongue as he presses his fingers down to her clit, just above the place where he’s still pumping in and out of her.
She cries out, coming again until she’s melting wet into the bed.
He still doesn’t slow, but his thoughts have run away from him and all of a sudden he realises it’s too late, far too late to stop himself.
He wants her full of his cum, until he’s emptied out all of the ache of himself into her, and her pretty, swollen cunt’s overfull with him until he dribbles out from between her lips and onto his fingers, making a mess of the sheets so he can start all over again.
Right at the precipice of his climax, she opens her eyes and looks up at him. There are tears of overstimulation clinging to her eyelashes, and her fingers are clutching gently at the back of his shirt.
Nobody has ever laid me down as low as you, he thinks, surprised at the strength of his emotion, willing her to understand.
But then he’s coming so hard his limbs go numb, and he isn’t thinking anything anymore.
He presses himself deep, deep inside, shaking violently as she swallows every pulse of his orgasm. His heart is thunderous in his ears, his muscles liquefied. He slumps, panting.
If she objects to the deadweight of his body over hers, she doesn’t say anything. He stays there, smothering her, trying to regain his breath, until he can feel her beginning to shift uncomfortably beneath him.
“Was that…okay?” she says, ridiculously, like his soul didn’t just leave his body.
He doesn’t even bother responding to the question. “You’re crazy,” he muses instead. “She’s crazy.”
He’s lifting himself off her when his chain swings from the neck of his shirt, clocking her between the eyes. “Oh, shit,” he says, as she gasps in pain. “Sorry, baby.” He presses his fingers to the spot, feeling guilty. “Normally I’d’ve taken that off.”
He’s usually far more thoughtful than this when he has company, but this time he hadn’t unclipped his necklace, or changed his clothes or sheets. The thought simply hadn’t occurred to him. Because she doesn't feel like—has never felt like—a guest in his bed. In fact, her absences have only ever felt like temporary discomforts to be endured until her return.
She’s scowling at him, her nose wrinkled up like a Weequay’s, and it’s so fucking cute he wants to kiss her again. “Why didn’t you?” she says.
She needs to ask? “Because it’s you.”
As he crawls back down between her legs, he finds a spectacular mess of cum and sweat and the evidence of her orgasms on the sheets, and fuck, it’s soaking down here. He wonders whether she even realises what she’s done.
He’s disappointed he didn’t get to watch. He’s sure he can get her to do it again, though.
She blinks down at him, her eyes glassy. “What are you doing?”
His mouth waters watching the way her wet skin shines and he feels an answering twitch in his recently-softened cock. “Cleaning you up. We’re not done yet.”
Her eyes widen, but whatever she does next, he misses it.
He’s preoccupied.
Just tagging a couple of the lovely people who commented on the original and might be interested in this, absolutely no pressure of course! x
@saradika @oscarseyebrow @the-little-ewok @bacarasbabe @writeforfandoms @hardc0rehaylz @moonlight-prose @lcvenderblues @onfiretakemehigher @littlemousedroid @viceofdionysus @grufflepuff-writes-stuff @ifimayhaveaword @millllenniawrites @liamakorn @lilhawkeye3 @grumpymuffinmama @dailyreverie @mandelirious
#poe dameron x f!reader#poe dameron x reader#poe dameron fanfiction#star wars fanfiction#from a certain point of view ask game#poe dameron smut#star wars smut#poe dameron fanfic#star wars fanfic
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fem mako… save me fem mako…
okay so I saw @jade-of-mourning’s post about how makorra would make bomb yuri and I am 100% in agreement so,, how I imagine tlok would go if mako was a girl.
I feel like this would totally affect mako’s backstory n stuff too because life on the street is rough for any kids but like. little girls with no one to run to surrounded by creepy criminal guys. not great! so not only would that add an extra layer of trauma, but I feel like it would also add dimension to mako+zolt’s dynamic when mako and bolin worked w the triads. like, instead of firebending gang leader who wants to shape a mini-me he found into his successor, it’s. hold on let me make another sentence. it’s a girl who’s learned to protect herself and a man she needs to defend herself from offering to teach her better. so there’s less of the straightforwardness of their canon interactions—mako knows she’s being exploited but is willing to play into it to take advantage of learning zolt’s skills and zolt knows she’s clever but wants her close. idk how fucked up zolt would be, but he could probably have some motivations related to trafficking as a backup should mako turn on him that would’ve been less viable with canon mako. idk. thoughts are thinking too quickly for me to type rn.
I’m not gonna go through everything in tlok for the sake of not yapping for 12 hrs like i did in my 100yr war mako post but through the four books in the context of makorra i imagine it would go:
b1: weirdgirl firebender who’s a control freak becomes the avatar’s best friend. she’s totally not in love btw. and there’s literally no jealousy at all when asami befriends korra either cause they’re just chill. just friends, how friends are, yk. amon is a freak but part of her is relieved he took zolt’s bending. thought the thought of her getting her bending taken away feels like a part of her autonomy being taken and that’s terrifying so she’s relieved when he fucking dies.
b2: from what I recall team avatar is more split up during b2 and do you know what that means. so much pining. it smells like a forest with the amount of longing bro. then mako gets arrested and prison as we all know is such a friendly environment for women so. more trauma. then harmonic convergence happens at that is absolutely when makorra realize they’re in loooove. then vaatu happens and it’s like ohhh shit I’m in deeeep.
b3: new airbenders yay! mako is distracted from korra a little bit when she and bolin meet their long lost extended family, until dear old grammy says that korra would make a fine husband for her granddaughter if she were a man. and cue gay panic cause DOES SHE KNOW???? HOW??? I’m being intentionally vague cause I last watched this show like five years ago and I don’t remember the timeline at all but bear with me. airbenders in ba sing se are freed, krew makes their way over to zaofu to meet opal. this is cool it’s fine. lin is literally mako’s mom and she’s still worried the whole time they’re on zaofu. korra is kidnapped. prison for mako and bolin (again). m+b search the desert for korrasami, it’s all mostly the same except more. yk. gay pining. korra is poisoned but the girls have a girl moment on air temple island after Jinora gets her tattoos :3
b4: korra travels for a while, before returning to rc. then she’s gone again to the swamp. kuvira attacks zaofu, korra defends, and then she’s back. mako and asami are. yeah. blah blah blah that one episode of makorra reminiscing gets really gay, kuvira tries to take over rc, mako lightning-zaps the mech and almost dies and then BOOM. they kiss after the battle. and the lesbians win once again as makorra walk into the spirit world hand in hand.
if you’re wondering why this was written so disjointedly it’s because I kept getting distracted mid-sentence. and I also hate how the romance was dealt with in canon, but it’s such a big part of b1 (my favorite book minus romance) and the repercussions lasted throughout all four seasons so obviously that I physically cannot bring myself to rewatch it. and girls are so. thank u lychee ur really super awesome and cool for drawing makorra as girls because I think they would’ve worked out in canon if mako was a girl. sorry I’m really sick rn and I’m a little out of it lmao 😭🙏🏼
#legend of korra#mako lok#lok#tlok#mako tlok#korra#makorra#lesbian makorra my loves#fem mako#is that a tag?#I think it should be#slug’s stuff
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could you tell us abt those teeth thing headcanons you mentioned in the tags? i am v interested
YES I COULD
i am SO glad you asked i love this concept very much
it's based on the way that people who work with big cats will often work with them until the animals allow them to touch their teeth, which is mainly so that they are able to do periodic examinations and so they won't flip out if they need dental work or something like that, but it's also a huge show of trust between animal and handler
for simplicity's sake, i'll go through the ghouls with the idea that it's copia or terzo doing this, with some extras for those who have notably different responses to other ghouls doing this rather than their papa
headcanons about ghouls getting their teefies examined under the cut!
aether is a very good boy, his ears go down a little when copia approaches him with the intent of touching his teeth, but he opens right up when asked and will hold still for as long as he needs to. but he will be whining softly in the back of his throat the whole time, and when he's done he looks a little bit like he's going to cry. it's very stressful for him but he Will Do It when asked
cirrus does not like it AT ALL. copia was shocked when he asked her to open up for him the first time and she pinned her ears and growled at him. he tried to be placating, explaining that it's necessary, but she wasn't having it. they had to call in backup (mountain) to hold her still and even then she was still shrieking and squalling like she's being killed. copia had to learn how to be very quick about it, and the second cirrus gets to have her teeth back she shakes it off and acts like nothing happened at all (only cumulus and mountain have any chance at touching her teeth without it being a full-on fight for their lives)
cumulus is very cooperative! she kinda really loves it actually, she already has her mouth wide open and teeth bared for examining before copia even gets close enough to touch, all ^.^ cause she knows she's got good teeth and that the others aren't quite as willing. and also, she'll never admit it but she likes the attention and the praise when copia says her teeth are surprisingly much sharper than they look (he definitely nicked his fingers the first time and she kissed it better)
dew is...temperamental, to no one's surprise. when copia approaches to examine his teeth, the phrase "if looks could kill" still doesn't scratch the surface of the death glare dew gives him. he scowls and growls and resists when copia slips his thumb into the side of his mouth, but he's surprisingly patient once he's in there. dew won't allow it forever, so copia has to be pretty quick about it or he definitely will lose fingers. there's also plenty of times when dew straight up refuses, and they have to call in aether or rain to pry his mouth open and hold him still
with terzo he was a little more willing, partly because terzo spent the whole time telling him how pretty and sharp his teeth are & he took pride in that. it took several months before he allowed terzo to touch his teeth though, and even longer with copia
mountain keeps up a low, terrifying growl the entire time copia approaches, ears pinned and everything, but the second copia starts to reach for his mouth he opens it himself rather than having to be made to open up. he still keeps up that growl but surprisingly, he's willing to hold still for as long as copia wants to poke around in there (after copia figured that part out, there was one time he spent quite a while, absolutely fascinated by how sharp mountain's molars are and his sets of long double canines)
rain doesn't like this at all. he will cooperate, because he respects and trusts copia, and he won't growl or anything but his mouth does start to slowly close down the longer copia takes, a subtle threat to hurry the fuck up or lose a finger. there's been a few close calls where copia wasn't paying enough attention (too focused on all the little razor sharp needle teeth between rain's canines and how it kinda looks like he's got two rows...) and had to jerk his hand back at the last second. as soon as copia's done, rain skitters off to go recover from the whole ordeal. swiss has special teeth touching privileges though, and rain accepts this from him with great affection.
swiss is surprisingly squirmy about it. he wants to be good, he really does, but there's just something about the feeling of fingers on his teeth that he really can't stand. especially when copia rubs across his molars, he's accidentally bitten down on him before (not enough to draw blood, and he apologized abundantly after, but. oops. copia is more gentle in the future). he definitely clings to copia's arm while his hand is in his mouth, and his tail is a damn weapon to anyone within range. copia wishes he could spend more time looking at swiss's teeth though, because he, like mountain, also has double canines, the outside ones not quite as long as mountain's but just as sharp. when he is done, he steps back and licks over his teeth & lips like a dog who's just been given a spoonful of peanut butter (which copia privately thinks its fricken adorable)
stratus likes to snap her teeth as copia approaches, but she's also grinning like a little imp. she thinks it's funny how he flinches a little and pretends like he doesn't, but when it comes down to it she opens wide and even pulls her tongue out of the way for him. but it's a bit of a trap; she won't fully chomp down on him, but she does gnaw on his hand while he's trying to feel around in her mouth. mostly she doesn't draw blood, but she does have lots of sharp little teeth like a kitten, so it happens on accident. don't worry though, she always licks it better (no matter how many times copia gently tries to explain to her that the healing properties of ghoul saliva doesn't really work on humans)
BONUS
alpha will absolutely refuse to let terzo anywhere near his mouth, except to bite him. (that's his story, anyway. they'll take it to their graves but he does let terzo check his teeth as long as there's absolutely no chance anyone else is anywhere nearby). he puts up a good fight with secondo but eventually relents, because secondo doesn't hesitate to get mean as fuck about it. and he doesn't get a choice with primo. with primo, he hardly gets the chance to think about it, the old man is extremely spry and very good at lulling alpha into the false complacency with conversation, and then he springs it on alpha and the whole thing is over before he even processes what happened.
(and just for shits and giggles, and because i have been talking about them lately: he growls and glares the whole time when swiss pries his mouth open, putting up a good front. but he always lets swiss poke around in his mouth for as long as he wants and he always opens up on the first ask. (this wasn't true the first time, or several times after that; he put up a good fight but swiss eventually won, because he always does))
omega is a good boy for terzo and only terzo. even then he still resists a little, tipping his head up out of reach until terzo reaches up to slip his thumb into the corner of his mouth, and once he gets his mouth open, he's very good and patient, doesn't even whine like aether. with secondo, he definitely resists a bit more, tossing his head around even as he verbally agrees to open up, he won't at first. again though, good boy once his mouth is open. primo asks him once, and barely gives him the chance to answer before he does the same thing he does to alpha, quick as a damn snake and it's over before he knows it. though sometimes primo will spend a while exploring inside his mouth, he mostly is just very deft and professional about it.
ifrit is the goodest boy. he loves having his teeth examined and likes to follow terzo's fingers around in his mouth with his tongue, fascinated to feel what terzo is feeling. he always asks if he passed after, and terzo smiles at him and says his teeth are in excellent form as always. sometimes he tracks down his bestie swisstopher and just goes :V at him until swiss pokes around in his mouth and ifrit purrs at him the whole time. he loves it.
mist is okay with it, you have to catch her in the right mood (which terzo has terrible luck with). he learned quickly that if she's not having it, it's best to give up and try again later because he's liable to lose half his fingers and his bassist if he pushes it. if she is in a cooperative mood though, she's still not exactly nice about it. she gives him a nasty side-eye the whole time and barely opens her mouth wide enough for him to get a couple fingers in there. however, she almost always will let omega into her mouth, so terzo mostly just lets him handle that. they have a weird relationship, built on high levels of mutual respect while also keeping each other in check & being unafraid to call each other on their shit.
chAir is an absolute monster if anyone but ifrit tries to open his mouth, and even then he Grumbles and growls about how ridiculous and demeaning this is. ifrit just shrugs and keeps at it, says it's important and has to be done, a ghoul's teeth are vital organs. to which chAir scoffs and mutters something about doubting whether or not ifrit would even know if anything is amiss if he thinks teeth are organs. (ifrit and chAir also have a strange relationship, in which ifrit adores chAir and chAir is a grumpy old man who begrudgingly accepts ifrit's affections)
terzo tries to insist that his human dentist knows what they're doing, but omega insists he hush and let him look. he is fascinated by terzo's blunt molars and his tiny, cute little canines, and spends quite some time running his fingertips over the smooth edges of his teeth until terzo's jaw aches.
copia thinks it's very sweet of his ghouls to try to check his teeth, but he also has a dentist and can they please do this one at a time and not four of them at once. mountain wants to know how his eensy flat molars chew anything at all, stratus says that he ought to sharpen his teeth more often and is puzzled when copia explains that it doesn't work like that. swiss spends a while prodding at the sharpest edges he can find and laments that he can't get any of them to prick his fingertips, and how it must be difficult for copia to live like this, unable to bite his partners effectively. dew thinks copia is doing this for attention (he also wants to poke around in copia's mouth, but he'll never admit it).
#dorito.txt#dorito answers#dorito hc hours#i may have gotten a little carried away#just be glad i didn't include my OC ghoulies#teefies 🥰#the band ghost#aether ghoul#cumulus ghoulette#cirrus ghoulette#dewdrop ghoul#mountain ghoul#rain ghoul#swiss ghoul#stratus ghoulette#sunshine ghoulette#omega ghoul#alpha ghoul#mist ghoul#ifrit ghoul#terzo#copia#chAir ghoul#zephyr ghoul
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So I'm curious about Admin. Was he a program specifically designed for the ship, or was he taken from something else and applied to the ship. Was he basically alone the whole time that the humans were in cryo-sleep? Did he spend enough time around humans to get to know them (like/dislike)? If something happens to Admin, does he have a backup? Are there any secondary programs running in the background that are not Admin, or inactive programs that only trigger if something happens? In case of an emergency, what is Admin programmed to do? For example, loss of power in cryo or damage to the ship. What is his primary objective? Does he follow the sacrifrice the few to save the many? Is he a logic program and if so, would his fondness for Quiz have him constantly fighting his programming?
Also, How is the ship powered? What kind of components does it have to support life (I know cryo-sleep is a big one to save on resources), but does it have like a biosphere or something? Is the ship like a kind of Noah's Ark?
Sorry for all the questions. They just kept popping up one after the other. Also, alien/space stories always make me think of movies like H.A.L. 9000, Pandorum, and Wall-E >>.... So I'm a bit distrustful of technology in these situations. (8D But I could just be over thinking it!... right? Admin might just be like Rimmer from Red Dwarf, only more elegant and nicer!)
T.T Sorry for the long ask...
He was designed specifically for the ship, and there is a copy of him on every century ship made by the same company! its only this one in particular that seems to be ... off
He was completely alone for a very, very long time
He didnt have much time to get to know them, as his job was to put them into cryo sleep once they arrived. Quiz was the last one to be scheduled, and she asked to wait a bit. That had her stick out in his mind, and once she did go back to sleep, he read through all of her files and became absolutely enamoured with her
Yes, there are backups! If something goes wrong enough in his programming, itll reset him
There are secondary programs yes, but theyre all controlled by admin. If the ship is his body, some actions are like breathing and blinking (automatic, controlled but doesnt need to think about it) while others are like eating, drinking, and walking
In the event of a catastrophic emergency, he is progrmmed to save the many over the few. He will sacrifice human lives if it results in more lives saved overall (or at least, he's supposed to).
His fondness of Quiz has him constantly at odds with his programming
Nuclear energy!
It is very much like a noahs arc, with animals & different plants all in cryo sleep awaiting their arrival to the new planet to colonize it
No need to apologize!!!! I love long asks!! <3<3<3
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What will Ada's fate be? (my opinion lol)
Ada's fate in the story is my roman empire. It has so many outcomes it's unpredictable, just like her.
Let's see, she's currently with Montresor who she would likely end up being with after the whole rescuing Duke arc because she has no one else. Annabel will probably cut her one sided friendship with Ada and prioritize her trust with Prospero, who she thinks is her strongest ally. I like to think there would be a conflict there, where annabel cut ties with her and Ada doesn't take it very well (it would be so cool if in that moment Ada brings up the fact that Annabel was the one that told her about Prospero being interested in her and that she should take the lead. Annabel of course could deny this and no one would question it, but maybe it could be something that starts making Prospero doubt about Annabel, at least a little bit).
Then we got morella, she'll probably join the misfits again after finding out what the others did to duke. I could see her trying to talk to ada but i think she would just push her away. Also the fact that ada was a part of putting duke in the wall could affect how she sees her.
So yeah Ada and Montresor ( i cut Will out of the ecuation because i want him to find better friends), those two are not gonna end up well. One is going to be doom of the other, and how i see things it'll probably be Montresor dooming Ada. Why? well easy, he's using her. Ada's depending on her relationship with Montresor. she needs him to like her, validate her, praise her, love her. Make her feel powerful and protected, because that's what she wants, love and power. And all it takes is just some sweet words and she'll do whatever he wants.
We don't know how far their relationship will go but one thing's for sure, she's not going to leave him out of nowhere because she has no one else to depend on. Ada doesn't know how to be on her own or maybe she does know but dislikes it.
We saw in her flashback she was a maid and got murder by (most likely) the man of the house she works. Don't know if she had any family or friends, but probably she was alone. This man, a powerful sir giving her attention, feeding into a false delusion of a better life, was probably Ada's only relationship. He used her and when she started being an inconvenience he just got rid of her.
And that's what i think is going to happen again. Ada will become an inconvenience in Montresor's plan and he'll get rid of her. Now how could ada become a hassle? Ada's spectre is (to me) one of the most powerful ones. If she learns how to use her abilities to a maximum (get to know wtf the "mark of the grave" is, maybe being able to actually see the fear of the others, or use her screams to a point where she can cause harm) she could become a big threat to everyone, including montresor. But of course that wouldn't be a problem as long as he has her wrapped around his finger.
There could be many outcomes from this situation:
-Maybe Ada is way to possessive and jelaous of any person that montresor interacts with and that starts to annoy him, we already saw how agressive she gets when she's in her spectre.
-Another possibility is that Ada realizes that Montresor is not the powerful person that she thinks he is, and that makes her not want him anymore. As i said before, ada wants love AND power. I don't think she would stay with him if he's in his flop era, she'll try to reach out to new powerful students (maybe even try to get on the good side of the misfits) but i see her doing this sectretly. She doesn't want to take the risk of leaving Montresor without having a backup that would greet her, but he'll eventually find out and when he starts losing his control over her, that's when he wants her out of the game.
Now how could he get rid of her? One option is that he could simply kill her, but i don't like it. It's boring and it leaves no room for theorizing lol. Anooooother option is something that i'm kinda hoping we get to see is (dumroll please) THE EXPULSION OF A STUDENT. Now, we don't know if this is even possible, but there's nothing i love more than to overthink situations in fictional media. What would it take for a student to get expelled is unknown, stealing something important? going somewhere forbidden? put in risk the well being of the academy or the deans?
Also what would the expulsion mean, like does the student goes straight to the land of the dead OR they simply open the gate and kick them out for the monsters to do whatever they want.
It would be tragic if this where to happen to ada but she's the most likely candidate. She's someone we know a lot about, something that can make the reader relate to her or feel emphaty towards her. She feels like a real morally questionable person. Someone that wants to be good one, but her selfish priorities come first.
If the expulsion thingy where to actually happen it would have to be to someone that we know so it has a bigger impact and i don't really see it happening to any of the misfits nor Prospero.
Love her or hate her, Ada being expelled because of Montresor's doing would be heartbreaking.
Buuuut at the same i feel like she wouldn't die DIE, idk how to explain it. Like she'll be gone for some time having us thinking that she's gone forever but then comes back somehow. She's one of the most interesting students so getting rid of such an amazing and complex character would be kinda of a waste in my opinion. I want to see her develop but not lose her sparkle that makes her, her. She's problematic, create chaos and i live for that.
So yeah, there are some of my thoughts on Ada, i kinda went off the rails at the end.
#nevermore webtoon#nevermore ada#nevermore montresor#nevermore webcomic#annabel lee nevermore#i love ada can't u tell?#just some thoughts#apologies in advance for any typo
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It’s late, but I wasn’t about to let Tome’s day go by! I present: so many words.
Summary: This is not a psychic union. It’s an employee union.
Word Count: 2,005 (…yeah)
—
look for the union label…
The more Tome thinks about it, the better the idea sounds. She isn’t sure what benefits members of the Sun Psychic Union get, but they have to be good ones if they can keep all those superpowered psychics around. If they’re worth paying hard-earned dues over instead of going freelance, then it has to be a top-tier organization. And it’s one she can’t join.
It’s not like Tome doesn’t like the job she has, she wouldn’t work for any other psychic in Seasoning City! Reigen could pay her a little better for all her hard work, snacks don’t grow on trees—except for that one weird month with…spinach?—, but she’s not trying to leave. A union’s good backup if she ever does need something, someday. If she was a psychic, she’d have to join the Sun union, so if you think about it, this is basically going along with the rules.
Except there’s no union for employees of a psychic or the invaluable backup work people like her and Mr. Serizawa do. Like filing or…or billing receipts for curse-breaking massages. Or going out on cases in the evening at the beginning of the school year.
They deserve a union. And if they’re the ones in charge, they can choose their own benefits, like better pay, or days off, or more snacks, not asking if Peppercorn expects her to do homework. Reasonable stuff for a Spirits & Such exclusive union. Probably. She isn’t sure.
But she does have the office to herself today and the other option is working on her history homework…so she has all time she needs to look up anything. Everything! Using Reigen’s computer is fine too, it’s for the good of the workers.
—
All of Tome’s sources agree, the first step to a successful union is getting your coworkers on your side. When you have three of them, that’s gonna be a very good thing or a very bad one. She decides to focus on the positives as she takes the familiar route back to Salt Middle School.
She’s not exact sure what happened between the city almost breaking to pieces—again—and now, but when she spots the brief member of her old club, it seems like it’s been…good. Mob smiles at her and waves backs when she flags him down leaving the school yard.
She knows how much Reigen means to him and that Mob’s not really an employee anymore, but if she can get him on her side, she can convince anyone.
“A union?” Mob looks carefully over her printed list of employee benefits.
Tome takes a deep breath. She knows she got wild about aliens and it wasn’t really about aliens and the alien hunt almost didn’t turn out well and Inukawa went missing for ten days, and maybe she misses the structure of the Telepathy Club a little, but. There isn’t much to do at Peppercorn yet.
“I like it. I think you should have one,” Mob says, handing the paper back before Tome can lay out her ten steps to union success.
There’s something in the way he says it, not angry, but…whole in a way she hasn’t heard from him before. She thinks it’s good for him.
“Really?” she asks before course-correcting. She did not expect it to be that easy. “I mean, thank you for your support, Mob. Ah, Shigeo.”
It feels more like him to call him that for some reason, even if he looks surprised she calls him that too.
Once Shigeo’s out of sight, Tome lets out a long, winded sigh out into the twilight she didn’t know she had in her. Wipes a bit of sweat off her palms. Okay, she did it. She actually did it. One down, two to go.
She’s gonna start a union.
—
“Why is it on mobgle again?” Tome overhears Reigen mutter to himself, making one of those weird faces at his laptop.
She to tries to make it look like filing is the most interesting thing in the world.
—
The thing is Mr. Serizawa is a really nice guy, kind of a pushover sometimes if Tome’s honest, but she still brings Shigeo with her to talk to him. Just for more proof that this is a serious offer.
All the suggestions said it was better to talk to coworkers outside of work, so that’s what she does, brings Shigeo along and catches up with her other coworker about two blocks away from the office.
“A…union?”
“Like the Sun Union,” she cuts in this time. “We’ll have benefits and if we don’t want to do something, we can use collective bargaining power. So we can tell the boss ‘no.’ Really stand up to him!”
Mr. Serizawa gets a kind of look on his face.
“Like if the union, us,” she pushes on, nodding to Shigeo to include him, “votes that we’re not going into a sewer after a spirit, we won’t have to.”
She figures Mr. Serizawa can agree they don’t want to do that again.
“I don’t know…” he hedges, sounding almost sorry to tell her. “I never thought I’d have a job as good as working at Spirits & Such.”
“There’s strength in a union, Mr. Serizawa. We can make important decisions for the future of the company. Better pay! Better hours! And–and a new desk!”
He does look more interested at that, a flicker of doubt in his eye. And Tome jumps on it, slamming her fist to her open palm, a familiar excitement coming up.
“Those are working conditions, Mr. Serizawa! We can put that in our demands! And if we don’t get it? We strike!”
“A new chair would be nice,” Mr. Serizawa says, more to himself that to her but she’ll take it.
“Shigeo’s joined too,” she sweetens the deal. “We outnumber the boss three to one and we’ll get you that chair!”
She thinks Shigeo nods, but the unionizing articles said eye contact was important.
“…I don’t think he’ll fire us,” Mr. Serizawa says, considering.
“He won’t,” Shigeo agrees.
“That’s the spirit!”
They only need part of a workforce to get a union and she has three out of three. She knew her counselor was lying when she called Tome too forceful.
—
The problem is sometimes it’s harder to have Mr. Serizawa as part of the union before they’re—she’s—ready to list their requests than not having him in it. Something about keeping the (temporary) secret makes him more nervous around Reigen than usual. That’d be great as a friend, but it’s exhausting as a union president.
She can’t say Reigen’s noticed yet though. Probably because Mr. Serizawa looks kinda generally haunted sometimes, but she’s had two weird nightmares about it already.
—
“I want to join your union.”
Halfway across a crosswalk, a list of possible wage increase bargaining tactics in her hand, Tome gets ambushed by Shigeo’s little brother. Well, ambushed might not be the right word, but she does yell and almost lose her list.
“…you worked for Spirits & Such?” she asks once they’ve gotten to the other side of the street.
Reigen’s filing system before Mr. Serizawa was strange enough to be in French or something and she doesn’t know how he remembers to pay his taxes, but he always wrote down when they had any expenses.
Ritsu grimaces. “I…interned. Will I be allowed to join or not?”
…well, numbers are numbers.
Tome feels like she’s gotten the politest mugging in the country.
—
“You know this won’t work, don’t you?”
“You don’t qualify as an employee,” Tome says instead of answering the only spirit around here who hasn’t been exorcised. If she says it through a mouthful of chips, that’s fine. She doesn’t have to be polite right now.
Reigen’s out dealing with the office’s owner about a window getting blown up mid-exorcism and Mr. Serizawa’s gone to pick up a drink order. She figured this would make the best time to put the last touches on their requirements to keep the union from going on strike, but now she has an old ghost telling her she’s doomed for failure.
She’s heard that and it never stuck! Thinking about it, she should hit him with that net again.
No. She has a better idea, grinning and talking around another handful of chips. “You’re mad cause I didn’t ask you to join, aren’t you?”
Ekubo huffs, forming tiny legs and sitting down mid-air. “I’m the reason this place lasted as long as it has. Reigen wouldn’t even be alive if it wasn’t for me.”
Tome guesses she believes that with how much trouble Reigen gets into. Someone had to have tried to kill him before.
“Fine. Wanna join the union?” If this doesn’t do anything else, Tome can say she’s part of the only union in town with a ghost.
“You don’t stand a chance. Yes.”
—
Tome’s been a class president already and she held it together, more or less, for most of that year. She even brought Shigeo in, more or less, and that got her to this huge supernatural world most people don’t even notices. She knows what she wants and she goes after it! That’s why she’s here now.
She’s even had input from all of the other employees, the things they think are important like calling ahead and someone else who agrees about school nights. Hell, she cut her snack demands to fit what she guesses is the total S&S budget, all for the good of the union.
It’s something, right here in her hands and important and she doesn’t miss her friends who are still in middle school as much with her coworkers waiting at her signaland she can do this, bursting through the front door of the one and only Spirits & Such Consultation.
Reigen almost climbs up his desk with the door slam, but Tome’s not going let that stop her.
“We are officially announcing the formation of the Spirits & Such union as agreed by all employees, part timers, interns—”
“Interns?” Reigen squawks.
“—and freelance spirit consultants. Here are our requirements.”
She puts the hard copy down on the desk, between her and Mr. Serizawa it even has the company logo on it. And a shiny border, she paid to have it printed up herself.
Besides it’ll give Reigen the opportunity to follow along. Tome has the terms memorized.
They need clearer hours and leeway if they can’t make it! A competitive wage, or a better division of goods for services rendered!
“This is not a livable wage, shishou,” Shigeo adds about here in the speech. She thinks Reigen looks proud through the confusion.
And there’s the value of their labor! She and Mr. Serizawa could work other places! He has superpowers! She could focus on high school!
There’s the overtime, they have no overtime pay! No school night double time! A new chair!
Tome hasn’t felt this energized in months.
“And,” she says, winding down and half-out of breath and so, so proud, “if these terms are not agreeable, we’re going on strike.”
“Oh,” Reigen says. And goes through one of those things where he goes through several possible faces before landing on one. He puts the list back down. “I don’t agree to those terms.”
“But I—” slips out of Tome’s mouth before she can stop it. She’s not going to get upset like last time. She won’t. If they have to strike, and she has to apologize to her coworkers for that, so be it.
“I’m not agreeing to all that,” Reigen says, punctuating his words by pointing at various spots. “Look, there it says I have to give six hours notice and even I don’t know that sometimes. The supernatural doesn’t stop for peoples schedules. And here, we don’t have the budget for that type of raise in this economy.
“So you’re going to have to stay here and negotiate, Kurata.”
“Negotiate?”
“You’re the one in charge of this union, aren’t you?”
Tome grins and pulls a chair up to the desk.
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I am not for a minute the kind of person who believes that bio parents are always more important than adoptive parents, but I will say there is something so... wistful to the dynamic playing out in s3 of OMITB with Loretta and Dickie.
I grew up in a religious area with a strong emphasis on having and raising children, so... honestly, I've seen it happen before IRL. Couples who thought they couldn't have bio children so they adopt a child, only to then have a "real" child who they end up doting on far more. It's a cruel thing to do to a child, and it would be an even more awful dynamic if your brother was rich and famous and the whole world loved him. Especially if you know that it was your ideas that made him famous, but he was just so charismatic that he got the love and fame and accolades anyway.
I can only imagine how much Dickie longed for a family that prioritized him. That put his needs first. I can only imagine how much he wanted just one person to look at both him and his fancy, famous, selfish brother and choose him. I can't help but think that he wondered about his bio parents and why they, too, didn't want him.
And then for him to find this woman who's treated him more like a son than his own parents ever did, who is finally prioritizing his needs, who finally cares about his mental health, who is finally seeing his talent, and... he doesn't even know it, that she's his bio mother. That she always missed him, but assumed he was living a better life without her. That she always watched him from afar and loved him.
It's almost like something out of a neglected child's fantasies, isn't it? That he has a real parent somewhere who loves him desperately. That he really is special and precious and worthy of love; he just had to find the right person to give it to him.
But at the same time... how much will it hurt when he realizes who Loretta really is? When he realizes how much time they've lost? When he realizes how long she's stayed away? When he realizes that she's lied to him as long as she's known him?
Loretta has spent her whole life sacrificing her own happiness for his, staying away because she believed he was happier with his adoptive family, and then as soon as she meets him IRL... she does it again! She sacrifices for him in a way that ends up leaving him all alone again. It's both kind and terribly cruel, isn't it?
It seems like love and stability are two things that he's craved all his life, and they're two things that have largely been denied to him. His brother loved him, but he treated Dickie like dirt. (But still a possession to be hoarded.) His parents presumably love him to some degree, but they made it very clear to him that he was always the backup plan, never the talented, perfect bio child they actually wanted. Even Loretta, with her flighty, dreamlike Broadway lifestyle, could never have given him the stability he needed, even if she did love him.
idk, Dickie's a really fascinating character to me. He really, really creeps up on you, doesn't he? But I feel like I'm so invested in his happiness now. I really want him to finally get the life he's always wanted, even if it had to be born of a tragedy that he never asked for.
#at this point it could probably come out that he WAS the second killer and I'd still be like#I get it babe#there's also a mirror post to be made about Ben and how he always got all the love and attention but none of it was ever real#except perhaps from his five whores who were probably the only people on earth who actually liked him#they knew exactly who he really was and they still liked him#it's so sad how both brothers felt so desperately unloved#and even though they loved each other still couldn't be who the other needed him to be#it's so sad ;;#omitb#only murders in the building#omitb spoilers
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My Apologies [10]
Chaennie x Fem!reader
Word Count: 2386
A/n - this lowkey feels like a filler chapter to me, and let me know if you guys want romantic-Jennie or just close best friend-Jennie with reader
…………………………………………………………………………
At the news everyone’s eyes go wide, including Chaeyoung’s parents. “You…what?” Chaeyoung has to double-take, trying to process Jennie’s rambles. Jennie, who is still sitting on the table, groans, running her hand through her hair in frustration. She then drags her hands down her face, looking at Chaeyoung.
“It’s hard to explain. We ran into a demon at (Y/n/n)’s school, they had a whole plan to get her and everything— but it didn’t work. So she took her friend as bait as the backup plan— that didn’t work either. I killed her, but (Y/n/n)’s friend bled out.” Jennie said, explaining the bare minimum. The other details can wait. “My job is to protect her only. But she would rather run into danger and go to her friend— so I had to make her sleep. She was being so fucking stubborn. I just wanted her to be safe.”
Jennie furrowed her eyebrows. “But that’s unimportant. I-I need you to go and heal her friend. If you take too long he’ll really die, his soul is already fading. If you don’t, (Y/n)’s going to hate me, she already does right now.” Chaeyoung noticed Jennie’s voice got more desperate with each word.
Her eyes are glossy, she’s on the verge of crying. She shouldn't be crying over something so stupid. It’s just frustrating. “I don’t want her to hate me over that, Rosie. You’ll heal him, won’t you? Please?—” Jennie is cut off by arms wrapping around her, pulling her trembling form into a hug. She feels Chaeyoung caress her hair soothingly, and she mutters, “Breathe, Jen, breathe. It’ll be okay, I promise. (Y/n) isn’t capable of hating you, okay?” Jennie hesitantly nods in response, wrapping her arms tightly around Chaeyoung’s waist seeking comfort. Her head hurts and she’s so caught up on the fact that you won’t want to see her anymore if Milo dies.
She tried so hard for you to be friends since the first meeting; anytime she was free she would watch over and visit you; you’d go out together shopping, watch movies, do face-masks, cuddle and whatnot. You’re the first human she’s put effort into befriending, so she won’t let you go that easily. She’s bitter and scared, but once your friend is healed you’ll forgive her— right? If you don’t…oh, well.
Jennie can wait, then. She can wait for you to forgive her; she was just trying to protect you— surely you know that? You’ll understand soon enough, and Jennie will wait for that apology.
“Calm down for me, okay? Can you take me to where she’s at?” Chaeyoung asks and Jennie nods, head still buried in her chest though she makes no move of action. If your friend’s soul is fading as they speak, she needs to hurry up. Chaeyoung realizes she needs a few moments; after a few seconds, Jennie sighs “Thank you for that.”
Chaeyoung smiles, “You’re welcome.”
Chaeyoung glances at her mother for permission to leave with Jennie and she nods. Selugi figures her question can wait and she’ll meet up with Chaeyoung later once they have this solved. “We’ll be back by tomorrow.” She says as Jennie opens a portal. (It’s a silent portal.)
Before she could go, her father suddenly stood up. “You’ll make it to the banquet right?” He wanted to confirm as he really wanted her to attend. “Yes, sure.” Chaeyoung responds before walking inside. As they left, her father sat back down and muttered, “such a troublesome child,” under his breath.
Once Jennie and Chaeyoung walked out and to the other side, the angel was met with a black and white sky. She recognized the rooftop they were on as your school’s. She could see everything was in stasis— which would’ve been resumed if the demon was dead and cleared off. From what Chaeyoung assumed, Jennie didn’t take care of it fully yet. It didn’t take her long to spot you a few feet away, holding Milo in your arms.
So he was the one who died. How sad.
“(Y/n).” Jennie called, tapping on your shoulder lightly to not startle you; it still did. You flinched and turned around quickly, wide eyed. You didn’t even notice they had arrived. You see Chaeyoung eyeing you with a bright smile and you wonder why. It’s confirmed when she speaks, though.
“You look so pretty crying.” She comments, you don’t have it in you to roll your eyes.
“Jennie, can you set him up against the wall?” She asked, pointing to the surface. Jennie gave her a nod, gently taking the (dead) boy from your arms, who hesitated before handing him over. Chaeyoung let out a sigh at the awkwardness between you.
Jennie really needed to fully fill her in.
As the reaper sat his (dead) body against the wall, she thought about how you didn't even spare her a glance, which made her a bit sad considering she brought Chaeyoung here.
“You two, stand there.” Chaeyoung points beside herself and you shuffle over. She wonders how she should go about this, she could heal him for free, but she doesn’t want to do that. It takes too much energy and she’d get nothing in return. “(Y/n), make a wish.” The angel says and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, interest, and maybe shock.
“Isn’t that too much Chaeyoung…?” Jennie speaks up, interrupting. If you make a wish with a situation like this; bringing back the dead, you might as well be capping your contract to the fullest, meaning Chaeyoung would get to do anything she wanted.
“Too much?” The angel mutters as she squats down by the (deceased) boy. He’s wounded terribly, which makes her frown. “If she wants him alive she needs to make a wish. I’m not trying to force anything, but it takes a lot of energy to bring someone back to life.”
Jennie nods. It’s your decision anyways. “It’s fine, please just heal him.” You say, although a bit unsure. You just want your friend to be normal, not hurt and having no memory or feelings of what happened today.
Chaeyoung can see that you're indecisive, and she questions her own decision. “Are you sure?” She asks, staring at you intently: looking for some form of rejection or discomfort, but you show none of the sort.
That’s good.
“You are aware that it means I can do a lot more, and you know what more means, right?” She goes on, unable to stop the smile forming on her face at the thought of making you feel good— but it soon faded. She realizes how poorly worded that was. “With your consent of course.” She adds, and you smile slightly at her elaboration, face hot. “Yeah, I’m sure.” You confirm again.
Now, with a quick snap of the angel's fingers and a flashing of white and gold sparks, the wish is done. Chaeyoung places a hand over Milo’s chest. A small lavender colored orb appears, floating about the area.
You watch in awe and curiosity.
The orb bounces and swirls around his body in leaping motions, almost like it was dancing. It turns lighter and lighter as the seconds pass before being absorbed into his body. His wounds start closing up and the color returns to his skin. His clothes turn clean and untouched, too.
Once that is over, your friend lets out a groan, moving slightly. His head is throbbing painfully and he lets out another groan, screwing his eyes shut.
“He should be fine now, I’ve just erased his memories.” Chaeyoung says as she picks him up, he then falls limp in her arms. She disappears, returning a quick second later with him no longer in her arms. She had put him somewhere in the school so he could resume his day.
“Now, Jennie, do you want to tell me the whole story?”
…
..
.
When the situation was under control and everything was back to, well, normal, Chaeyoung had brung you back to your apartment informing you she’d be back quickly. But it’s been an hour and a half since then, and you were getting bored. You thought about how many absences you would’ve had if it wasn’t for Chaeyoung altering the records.
You were told to wait in your room while the two talked about what happened. You didn’t understand why you couldn’t be included when you were involved, but at the same time, you didn’t want to have to recall and retell the events of today. You’re also slightly scared to be in the same proximity as Jennie because of the awkwardness between you.
Chaeyoung has talked to you before going to Jennie. You needed to apologize. You may have been angry and a jumble of emotions, but you should’ve never said those three words to Jennie. You don’t hate her. You know you were in the wrong. Jennie was just trying to protect you.
.
..
…
“So?” Chaeyoung questions as that sat at your island table, waiting for Jennie to elaborate. The feline-eyed reaper has her head laying down on the counter and she stares at Chaeyoung. She’s lazily chewing on a Twizzler stick she found in your pantry’s candy section. She could start to tell Chaeyoung what she wants to know, but she wants to finish the candy first.
After a few minutes of silence between them, and Jisoo and Lisa playing the game in the next room, she finally finishes the candy. “(Y/n)’s friend was being bugged by some new student that was in their class. He had enough and asked the human to either go on a date or reject them so he could have his peace, and she accepted. That girl who supposedly had a crush on (Y/n) turned out to be a demon and she was waiting for a chance to get (Y/n) alone to take her or maybe kill her. I don’t know.” Jennie said, watching how Chaeyoung’s expression changes to annoyance.
“I came with her of course because it was suspicious to me that they transferred a little after the time you did. Long story short, they found out I knew they were a demon and had no other choice to reveal themself. They couldn’t bait me so they used Milo as a hostage… (Y/n) got all emotional and tried to “help” so I made her pass out.” Jennie makes a gun pose with her hand and points it at Chaeyoung’s forehead. “Then I killed her. Understand?”
Jennie had an odd way of explaining things but somehow it still made sense in the end, so Chaeyoung nodded and pushed the bag of Twizzlers back to Jennie who grinned happily. (She had to take them away from her or else she would’ve finished the whole bag before she told her what happened.)
“Will you and (Y/n) make up?”
“Yeah, I’m just waiting for her to call me.” To their surprise, you call her a couple minutes later.
“Jennie,” you call out to no one in particular, “Jennie, can you come here?” You waited a couple minutes and came to the conclusion she was still busy since she hasn’t appeared yet.
Sighing, you flopped back onto your bed and pushed your head in your pillow, letting out a groan. You don’t exactly have a script on how you’re going to apologize.
“You’re going to suffocate yourself.” A raspy, deep voice filled with amusement speaks, causing you to jolt up. Jennie is at the side of your bed, smiling widely. “Unless…that’s what you were trying to do, by all means, continue.” She adds, joking. You sighed, trying to catch your breath as you clutched at your chest. Sometimes you forget that Jennie can make herself sound scary.
“You should’ve seen your face.” Jennie mocked. She places a hand over her chest with wide eyes: a startled look, and mimicked your breathing. You rolled your eyes. “No, you should’ve heard your voice!” You said, causing her to laugh more. You couldn’t help but laugh too, and it seemed like you were back to normal. Though, it doesn’t last.
Once the laughing died down, silence fell upon you. You both were quietly, your eyes darting around the room. It was an awkward tension, you’d have to eventually address the elephant in the room. Jennie gazed at you expectantly, not moving to sit on the bed, facing you. Her legs were folded over each other and she was still smiling.
She expected you to call her a bit later, or maybe the next day, or week, or month, or…
She thought you’d avoid her, but it’s not like you can when she’s watching you with Chaeyoung.
A couple seconds later you turned to face her, letting out a small sigh before looking her in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” you started and Jennie cocked her eyebrow, her smile growing into a teasing smirk.
“Do it without the sigh?” She asked, tilting her head. You could almost see her as an owl, no, a cat. “I want a sincere apology. You don’t need to force yourself if you’re not ready, I was partially at fault too.” She said softly, watching as you played with your duvet, twisting and twirling the soft fabric around your finger.
You were nervous.
“I’m sorry,” you said again, without the sigh, and began the rest of your apology, I—” You’re interrupted.
Jennie wanted to play around a bit longer. “Make your tone a bit sadder—”
“Jennie!” You whined, flopping back onto your bed. Jennie broke out in a laugh, holding her stomach as if I’d burst. When she gets herself together she says, “Sorry, I’m sorry. I just wanted to tease you. I already forgave you, but you can continue your apology if you want.”
You hum, “I really am sorry though. I shouldn’t have said those things to you…I know now you were just trying to keep me safe. I don’t hate you Jennie, it’s quite the opposite.” You admit, and somewhere along the line you started staring down at your hands that are clasped together, fiddling.
Jennie found it so endearing she had to hug you. You closed your eyes and leaned into her embrace, allowing yourself to be engulfed in the comfort of her arms.
Would you like to continue?
#biscuitblinkeu#jennie x reader#rosé x reader#blackpink x reader#somethingpeculiar.biscuit#jennie x fem!reader#rosé x fem!reader#chaennie x reader#chaennie#fanfic
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Happy Tuesday evening :) This is such a good one. Jealousy thy name is Lucy Chen is what this ep should be called. The Green eyed monster coming out real hard for her in this one. But then Lucy has no feelings for him right….
3x11 New Blood
Our ep starts out with our trio scoping the new rookies. Lucy talks to Katie first. Asking who her T.O. Is going to be? We find out Tim is her new teacher. Lucy is tying not to gush too much about him. Saying she will learn so much but trails off. Katie catches on that Lucy is burying the lead a little. Lucy fesses up Tim can be a little intense. HA You got him at his most intense dear Lucy. He was a radioactive trap ready to gobble her up at first. Then after that was mostly based on his intense need to make sure she succeeded.
Katie doesn't seem intimidated by this info but very appreciative of it. Lucy tells Barnes to reach out to her if she ever goes into a self doubt spiral. So sweet. Also she has a feeling that this new rookie will have one. It's Tim no way she wouldn't right? Gotta love her trying to help the new girl out though. Pre-warn her of what's to come. We all know how ‘Intense’ Lucy’s first shift was with Tim. So it’s very thoughtful of her to reach out and offer help if she needs it.
The jealously begins at the food trucks. Tamara is there with Jackson and Lucy. They’re talking about getting her set up in her new housing. Tim’s new rookie catches Tamara’s eye. She asks who Officer Zaddy is with? LMAO I remember having to look up what that meant the first time haha but it’s accurate to Tim. In case you need a refresher it means ‘Sexually attractive older man, who is charming and self confident’. That’s our Tim haha Yum.
Tamara asks how it feels to be replaced? Lucy shrugs it off saying she's glad Tim is torturing someone else. Ok honey we believe you..... That mindset lasts all of two seconds before Jackson points out he’s paying for her coffee. Lucy’s jealously begins here and doesn’t stop for the majority of this episode. She is intently watching and sees he’s letting her drive too. She is absolutely incensed by this whole thing. He’s also smiling while he’s paying for her coffee. Lucy is none too pleased about this. Her face says it all as they walk way. Jealously and resentment party of one.
Lucy can't actually fathom him being nice on day one like this. So she then she comes up with a plan to explain it all. Because it’ll help with her jealously if she does. Saying how Tim is only doing it to lull her into false sense of security. She’ll be wearing that coffee before too long. Lucy is all smiles till Jackson calls her out on it. Oof. Telling her how messed up it is she is enjoying this. Her bubble bursting rapidly even Tamara can’t look at her LOL Oh my girl you are as transparent as glass. The jealously is seeping out of her. Melissa kills this scene with her facial expressions. The whole episode really.
Tim and Katie catch a call about a robbery. I do love watching Tim with her because they’re so like minded. Except Tim knows how to be a cop vs a soldier. Fascinating to watch tbh. Lucy and Jackson show up as their backup when they start to take fire. Katie has injured one of them and is rendering first aid. Something that seems foreign to her. In the military you aren't doing that for your enemies.
Tim see's Katie is struggling with this concept. So he put his hand on her shoulder as a sign of support. Lucy immediately notices this and voices her jealously once again. Jackson doesn’t even notice what they’re doing. He asks her 'What?' Thinking it’s something egregious. Nope just Tim putting his hand on Katie’s shoulder….The green eyed monster is fuming at this moment. Telling Jackson she didn’t even get a fist bump when she saved his life day one...
Lucy is so aggravated and jealous. I saw a post once saying 'She's a ten but terrible at hiding her feelings.' Ha It's true Lucy wears them on her sleeve normally. This is another level though. Not even trying a little bit to hide it. He’s bought her coffee, been nice to her, let her drive and now she’s getting an empathetic touch all on day one. Driving Lucy nuts. She had to fight and claw for every inch with Tim. So this whole situation is seeming very unfair to her.
That Barnes is getting it handed to her on a silver platter in Lucy’s eyes. The thing is Lucy changed Tim so much for the better in many ways. Another part of her is jealous because Katie is getting an emotionally healthier version of Tim. Where she got a dumpster fire ready to implode at a moments notice. Took her time to breakthrough. The kicker is Tim is in the place he is now because of Lucy. But she can't see that atm. Jealously doesn’t tend to allow one to see logic LOL She is legit pouting above as they load their suspect up.
I LOVE LOVE LOVE this next part with Tim and Katie. Anytime we get to delve into Tim past i’m a happy girl. Not only that but his military past. Trying to teach her how to live in the world she's currently in now. Not the one she was in before the LAPD. He’s trying to help reset her brain. I love him taking her to this peaceful park to accomplish this. The little bit of funny sass when he says 'No it's adorable.' HA Who are you and what have you done with Tim Bradford?
He can tell Katie is still unsettled from their encounter earlier. So he's trying to redirect her focus. i.e. the lady bug. You know Tim had to do something similar when he returned. I’m sure he struggled coming out of that mindset into a less controlled one. Where you’re not told what to do and when. Everything happens in a split second based off your decisions. The way he easily connects to what they’re doing. His insightful words of wisdom for her. He was Katie when he returned home. Thinking he’s still in country, everyone is either hostile or friendly. The way he speaks is from deep experience.
Tim tells her to take a deep breath, feel the sun on her face, close her eyes. He would cover her when she closed them. This scene gets me all emotional. I know what it's like to have PTSD. How it can control your entire life. To be in a consistent state of fight or flight. Because you've forgotten what it's like to have a safe space. What it's like to have your guard down. Tim is creating that safe space for her right now. By telling Katie he has her covered. To let herself just be in the moment. This scene showcases a couple things. One it show's Tim's good heart. How badly he wants to help her. I love this man so very much.
Two just shows how damn good he is at his job. Taking his past pain and experience and using it to help transition Katie. To help her transition better than I'm sure he did. Because he knows how sideways this can go if she doesn't get ahold of this. That if she continues down this path it’s not going to go well. Telling her to live in the moment. It’s hard but it’s the only way he got past the war. To move forward again. This soft side of Tim doing things to me. Already love this man but this just increases it ten fold. The soft way he speaks to her the entire scene. Phew lord. Getting weak in the knees.
Tamara calls Lucy asking if she can come get her. That her cousin is drunk and won’t let her get her stuff. Lucy grabs her off duty weapon and is on her way. I love how confidently she walks up and yells at Tamara's cousin to get her stuff. Get ‘em Lucy! Her stance is amazing. He listens like a smart man. Doesn't test Lucy. Tim would be so proud of her. Love me some confident BAMF Lucy. He gets her stuff tells her not to come back. What a jackass. Lucy asks what happened? Tamara tells Lucy her new place has black mold. It’ll be couple months before she can get in there.
We find out she asked her cousin if she could extend her stay. He lost it on her. Apparently his GF can't stand her staying there. Hence Tamara calling her for help. Says she will figure something out… Lucy refuses to let her drown. Tells her she can stay with her till the new place is ready. That she’s family ❤️ They really are found sisters and I love it sfm. They say family isn’t always blood. It isn't the same last name or bloodline. It's the people that constantly show up for you. Lucy has done this with Tamara and she's finally accepting it. Truly believing and trusting Lucy's word now. Her relief above is so sweet. I love their relationship so much.
We've now reached Lucy's boiling point of the episode. She legit implodes with jealously when she see Tim doing Katie's paperwork. She can’t take it any longer. Has to say something. Starts by making a snide comment about him doing paperwork day 2.... The way he looks up at her in the second gif LOL Tim is smart enough to know he’s in a fight with Lucy he’s just not sure why…He asks her if she has something to say? Knowing damn well she has a lot to say. Lucy is trembling with anger and jealously. Asking why he’s being so nice to her? The hurt in her tone is evident af. Her body language matching that tone.
Tim has opened the flood gates by asking her if she has something to say. Lucy doesn't hesitate and goes OFF on him. Her body language really betrays her so much in this scene. She is so damn revved up. Listing all the ways he tormented her in the early days. Mentioning when he stole her duty belt when she had to pee. The way he reminisces about that moment above has me rolling so much. Like ah yes I was so very mean to you LMAO Thinking damn that was a good one. Lucy telling him he called her boot so much she has PTSD from the word itself.
Now when Lucy says this it prompts Tim to say Katie has other issues. Lucy is so angrily blind in her jealously she goes off more. Saying like what? Then goes on a very insecure and specific rant about her. Oh Lucy when you start listing physical attributes like that it’s screaming you’re so VERY jealous. Her emotions betraying her wholly in this scene. Listing all the things Lucy feels like Tim doesn’t see in her. Which is a damn lie but she isn’t seeing straight right now. All she can see is her jealously and unfairness of his kindness.
Her insecurities are coming out in spades right now. Not only does this woman get soft Tim she’s also beautiful and smart. Lucy feels threatened on so many levels. This scene is screaming that. Tim follows up her rant with 'She won’t wear any perfume.' Lucy is so caught up in her emotions she forgot he’s answering her question from before. She’s confused and asks what that has to do with anything? Getting more irritated. Tim realizes she needs his full attention for this. Puts his pen in his pocket and turns toward her.
Stops what he’s doing and tells her how he teaches his trainee's. Saying he teaches his recruits according to what they need. You can see Lucy is riled up still but listening to him. He starts with a continuation to his previous statement. Saying she won’t wear perfume because she’s still worried it’ll give away her position. Telling Lucy a part of her is still in Afghanistan waging a war that is over for her. He continues on to say if she’s ever going to be a cop that instinct has to go.
Before Lucy can say a word he compliments her. Calling her a kind and insightful person. How she sees the good in people. Now I love this because he is doing build, break, build here. Building her up before breaking her back down by letting her know WHY he trained her the way he did. Vs what he's doing with Katie. Man has a reason for pretty much everything he does with this job especially teaching.
Trying to show Lucy that she and Katie view the world very differently. So his approach with her has to be the polar opposite. Lucy looks mortified by the time he’s done. Like she’s embarrassed she showed her hand emotionally and was wrong. Also it being over something she would've supported had she known the facts. Lucy immediately asks Tim if she’s going to be ok? That empathy of her's kicking right into gear now that Tim has calmed her down.
Tim says in time she will be ok. Which had she given him the chance to do this she would've been. He then ends the conversation with the best compliment she could’ve received from him. Tim basically saying she’s an incredible cop. That one day Barnes might even be as good as she is now. That shuts Lucy up effectively haha He does some heart eyes and does a mic drop of a walk away. Knowing there isn't more to say. That he needed to quell her insecurities and he did just that. It's the way he softens in that second gif as he compliments her. Gah I love them so much. He's so proud of his girl and lets her know it.
Lucy's reaction is the best part. She’s so full of giddiness it’s adorable. Her person just complimented her in the best way possible. Validating she’s amazing at her job. The little smirk and twirl is so cute I can not. It’s like when the guy you like says he likes you back. Lucy can’t contain her glee. He just made her whole damn year. His opinion of her is everything so she is on cloud 9 right now.
Love that Tim doesn’t make her feel bad for being jealous or questioning why he’s being nice to Katie. Just breaks it down and does what he does best with her. Says the right thing in the perfect way so she doesn’t spiral any further. The fact that he did that and complimented her not once but twice. Sigh How far we have come everyone how far we have come. ❤️
Side notes- Non Chenford
It is a bummer Katie doesn’t stick around. I get why she doesn’t. Transferring from one stressful environment to another is a lot when you still have ptsd issues. Telling Tim when he let her have her guard down, feel the sun on her face was the first time she felt at peace in a long time. He so desperately wants to help her transition. Because he’s been there done that. She declines and resigns.
Then Tim does something that makes me love him even more if thats even possible. That even though he’s disappointed she’s leaving he lets her know he’s going to check in on her. *heart clutch* Tells her she has 3 years before her POST certification expires. That she will always have a home here if she needs it. Oh Timothy be still my heart sir.
I love Tim having to be the neutral third party for Wopez and Wes’s mom for the wedding plans. It’s fantastic. He is a negotiator for them it’s so funny.
Harper/James flirty flirts for self defense class. Silas being his wing man to help him secure a date with Nyla. Too damn cute.
#Caitlin Rewatches The Rookie#chenford#chenford hiatus#fall rewatch#waiting on s6#s3#3x11 New Blood#the rookie 3x11#otp: doing my job#otp: you know me so well. too well.#otp: some things matter more#otp: you did good.#tim bradford#lucy chen#the rookie#tim x lucy#lucy x tim#eric winter#melissa o'neil#tim bradford x lucy chen
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