#joe knew steve had to be protected and he loved him so much ;-;

[rainydayfix]

Take One

pairing: Nomad! Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: Nomad!Steve Rogers fulfills his sex worker partner’s wishes until he can’t take it anymore.

warnings: 18+ content (MINORS DNI!!!), smut, lots of fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex

word count: 3.2k

Notes: Please do not copy, steal, etc. My ask box is currently open if you want to send fic ideas / imagines / etc.

Snippet: It was a miracle any thoughts ran through your mind but you couldn’t help but wonder how his hands – that had been through so much war, endured so many scars and callouses from fighting - could bring out something so heavenly from you. Maybe it was the fact that his hands hand been used to defend and protect so unabashedly that made them capable of showing an equal amount of devotion.

“I thought about what you asked for,” you said, resting your head on Steve’s chest as you settled in for the night. “And, I want you to finger me.”

“I always finger you,” he joked, lightly tickling you at your sides.

“No, I want you to only finger me,” you repeated. “Over and over again.”

You and Steve talked about fantasies you wanted to share. You both moaned between the sheets when you were in a race to hit that space where nothing else existed but each other. But, when he first asked if he could help you out on camera, because that was one of his fantasies, it was still a bit of a shock – leaving you a couple of days to digest, to ponder, to re-ponder, to really think about what you could ask him to do.

As your first video together, you finally settled one idea: him fingering you relentlessly. It was genuinely a fantasy of yours. You knew your body and what you liked, and always found it exciting to see your partner discover it too. And it was a blessing that Steve didn’t rest on his stamina from the serum to do all the work.

“Why only fingering?” he questioned softly. “Why not more?”

“You know why?” you answered, trying to tiptoe around one of the reasons you only wanted fingering. Truth be told it was that you weren’t ready to do a full length video with him yet. Your stream had a good fifteen videos on it so far. Thousands of followers who loved seeing your curves, seeing you naked, seeing you come. But your sex work always came with a caveat making partners turned on before becoming jealous and distrusting, or being distrusting from the start and making you feel cheap.

That was just men who were regular Joe assholes. This was Steve Rogers. Retired Captain America. Now Nomad. He stayed in the shadows. Popping up online, no matter how many creative angles you could try, someone would figure it out. Who you were. Who he was with. Where you were. Then come the headlines. The jokes. The invasion of privacy. You hoped deep down making a video out in the open with Steve wouldn’t change things, but you knew it would. “Not even you can hide underneath all this,” you finished, gingerly teasing his full beard.

A small groan seemed to be his only response. You could feel his pensiveness clench his muscles.

“I just - “ you started, before turning in his arms to face him. “I want us to be us for as long as we possibly can. And, blasting America’s ass on the internet will have the vultures coming around in a heartbeat.”

That made him break out into a small smile at least. You couldn’t help but lay next to him in silence as your fingers caressed his face – the deepened wrinkles on his forehead, the laugh lines, the freckles. Blinking up at the ceiling, deep in thought, he turned his face towards yours and gently took your hand into his. He brought it to his lips, taking his time to plant soft kisses along your fingers.

“When do we start?”

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

You know Steve asked if he could help. But you couldn’t find it to answer him with your actual voice. He ended up sitting on the bench at the end of the bed - with that ever-cool patience and calm he possessed. Positioning everything just right seemed to be the only thing to settle your nerves. It wasn’t like you were new to this. You set up the equipment a couple of dozen times before – sometimes for videos to post, sometimes with videos that didn’t make the cut. You set your phone set high on the tripod over the bed in the exact angle that would show your breasts down to your feet, if you poised your legs up right. You made sure the lighting was right – with soft lamps centered on your vanity and at your bedside.

As you slowly ran out of things to do, you started to realize you only started the channel with one person in mind – yourself. But now there was someone else you wanted your videos to mean something for – Steve.

“I’m gonna put the final touches together,” you said softly, giving the tiniest curtsy when his hand reached out for yours. He pulled you between this legs. How could a 240 lb superhero seem so small in your arms yet take up your entire world?

“This won’t change anything, this is just for us,” he reminded, running his hands over your hips and reaching his head up to nestle his lips between sternum. Your hands ran through his thick hair, gently bringing his face up. “I know,” you smiled down at him, taking his hands in yours before letting him go. “I’ll only be a minute.”

One minute turned into more than a couple of minutes as you changed your outfit. Steve honestly doesn’t need much to get going, but your “branding” wasn’t exactly in mind when you picked out the lingerie. From a technical point of view, you wanted something that showed enough skin from your breasts to your hips as the camera’s angle pointed downwards away from your face. For yourself, you wanted something that was simple but special – nothing said that better than see-through black and lace. Your hands ran over the delicate floral pattern as it shaped your taut waist, and the stockings that were lightly attached to the garter and underwear. After putting on the finishing touches of light make-up, you looked yourself over once more in the mirror before opening the bathroom door.

All of the equipment stayed exactly the same, but you weren’t the only one that had changed. A small array of candles were lit alongside the drawers across the room. The softest low-fi music played from the stereo. And, Steve stood next to the bed having changed into a long black shirt and pants, matching exactly what you wore. His eyes bore into you with an intensity that paled into comparison to the soft romantic set-up around you.

“Are you sure you just want my hands?” he asked, his voice deep and almost raw. He inhaled sharp but slowly, looking you over as his hands seemed to unconsciously rub together.

“For right now, yes,” you said – it was taking everything in you to not just shove the shoot aside and just let you fuck for the hell of it. There was so much about his body that you loved, and somehow restricting yourself to only his hands made you want him even more. The part of you that pushed you to save it for the video, caused you to turn away from him slowly before handing him the remote control and slowly crawling up the bed, trying to give him as much of a show as possible.

Once you settled onto your back, you reminded yourself to breathe as you could see Steve in your peripheral check the angle of your placement on the bed with the lens and press record. You forced your eyes to stay peeled on the ceiling, knowing that if you looked at him too soon you might call the whole thing off. It seemed like forever before his weight sunk on the bed next to you, his presence becoming a safe haven and a master in control.

When he was fully settled next to you, resting his weight on his arm, he whispered, “it’s just us.” His lips planted softly against yours, you immediately felt it start to leave you breathless and wanting more. Carefully, he left a trail of wetness as his tongue and lips ran down your neck, as his hand traveled over the rim of fabric covering your breasts and towards your stomach. Your breathing steadily grew heavily, when you felt his nails dig into your hips before gliding across your lower stomach and under your underwear.

You were careful to not shuffle too much, not wanting the position of your body to skew out of view. You also didn’t want to seem too over-eager as you peeled the underwear lower. A small smirk lifted from Steve’s mouth as he discovered you were already wet. One of his fingers dipped lowly, lightly skimming your outer lips before delving further. He didn’t seem to be in a rush and it was killing you. You couldn’t help but let out a deep breath as he added another finger, just playing with the power his touch had on you. He took you licking your lips as an invitation as he brought his fingers to your mouth, letting your head bob against them for a few seconds before he placed them back where they belonged.

He started with his digits pushing between your lips to your core, not wasting any more time, causing you to sigh heavily. It was exactly what you wanted. His motions mostly focused on dipping in and out of you, experimenting with the pace of rough and slow. When his fingers hit your inner lips in the perfect way, he alternated to hitting your core. Just like his cock that fit inside you perfectly, Steve knew the right amount of thickness and how to curve his fingers to create the same tight fit. You thought you were close to hitting your first orgasm, when he switched up the position, pushing his middle and ring finger deep inside you, and letting his other fingers pad against your inner walls. Your moan filled the room as your hand dipped low to hold yourself open a little more for his palm to slightly tap against you.

“Fuck, just like that, almost there” you gasped, as you felt your wetness coat not only his hand but slip down between your thighs underneath you. The concentration on Steve’s face, the way his eyes invited you to come all over his hand, pushed you over the edge as your moan was caught in his lips on yours, your tongues thrashing against each other. The first wave washed over you, as he finally let you up for air, and his fingers slowly returned to the caressing he had started with just minutes ago.

You didn’t expect the initial orgasm to take so much out of you, your eyes falling shut a little too quickly for your taste as well as Steve’s. You felt his hand gradually leaving you feeling empty, and the weight of him next to you lightening a bit. When he returned a second later, you felt something soft and plastic roll across your collarbone, and over the rim of your brassiere. Your eyes shot open, when you felt the odd object pulse against one of your nipples and over to the other. You caught the hot pink device looking small in Steve’s massive hand – your vibrator. The one you used in the video that Steve said was his favorite. That bastard.

His heavy breath brushed against your ear. “You can’t quit on me now. I’m just getting started, honey,” he instructed, in a gruff tone you’d never heard before he nipped your lobe between his teeth. He turned the device on and off again as he made sure to let it sail smoothly over breasts and across your stomach, just close enough for you to feel it pulsate through the lingerie. Once the vibrator made it towards your heat, you opened your legs further for him, letting him know how ready you were for him to give it to you.

This time he wasn’t waiting to take it slow and steady like he did before. This time he turned on the vibrator to the first setting for a few brief seconds, and then the second – the one that usually made you come within minutes. The only problem was that he held it right between your clit and lips – not letting you do anything to give him permission to go further or deeper. He was within the reason of pressing the vibrator right where you need it and perfect distance of making you yearn for his touch.

“Oh god, baby, please,” you cried out, and was silenced immediately, as he plunged the vibrator into you. Steve didn’t mess around with the pressure of the touch; he just let it pulse against your folds. It felt like an endless divine tease. Seconds gave way to minutes. Minutes felt like it gave way to eternity. You felt like you were heaven without actually crossing over the through the gates. You looked over at Steve with hooded eyes, wondering how much this man could possibly know exactly what you wanted without saying words, as the coil within you began to tighten and tauntingly refuse to unravel.

Gradually, the arm that was resting near your head slipped under your neck, lifting your face upwards. Knowing he wanted you to watch what he was doing, you helped by slightly lifting yourself up onto your elbows, prompting your eyes to roll back into your head before refocusing on the full view of his hand thrusting between your legs– the black of his shirt wrapped towards his elbow, and your lingerie, contrasted with the hot pink glimpses of the vibrator. It was a miracle any thoughts ran through your mind but you couldn’t help but wonder how his hands – that had been through so much war, endured so many scars and callouses from fighting, could bring out something so heavenly from you. Maybe it was the fact that his hands hand been used to defend and protect so unabashedly that made them capable of showing an equal amount of devotion.

Steve’s body tilted towards you closer, you could feel his cock through his pants on your side. “I wish it was your cock inside me so bad,” you whined, as he suddenly dropped the vibrator and replaced it with his hand, practically fisting you. Your focus stayed on the continuous pounding of his hand that matched the throbbing of the vibrator and thensome for as long as you could. You never wanted it to stop, and Steve almost made you feel like it was never going to. Your one hand gripped the sheet underneath, while the other wrestled to reach for Steve’s arm as your head bowed backwards, as your body finally let go, and you released a high pitched squeal. Steve slowly lowered your head back against the bed, kissing away some of the tears that had freed themselves from the corner of your eyes and down your cheeks, as everything in you crossed the finishing line. You could of sworn you heard him mumble ‘good girl’ before asking if you were all right, making you nod in response as your hands reached up to run through his hair and wrap around his arms.

You laid there for several moments, letting him hold you, caress you, plant kisses everywhere. You didn’t know if this was the end of your recording. You weren’t sure if you had another round in you. You weren’t sure if two times would be enough to follow with what you had on your stream already. You just wanted to rest with Steve, as much as it seemed like he just wanted to rest alongside you. He brought his hand up long enough for you to see him run it along his lips, coating his palm in his spit before dipping it inside you. You guessed he wasn’t done with you just yet as his hand splayed itself against your core– his middle finger found its home deep inside you while the rest of his palm rested on your inner and outer lips.

When his mouth started to trail down towards your collarbone, and towards your breasts, you helped him nuzzle your corset as low as it could, just letting your nipples peak out from the top, enough for him to paying attention to one, and then the other. His mouth grappled your breasts, back and forth, before he settled on one while his hands picked up the pace of strokes. It had been a long time before you felt an orgasm building from more focused attention on your delicate folds. But the ease with his hand swiping at you and the way his mouth enfolded around one of your nipples pushed your body to accept that he was building that eden in you again.

The slight slits in Steve’s palm seemed to ever so gently and rapidly rap against your opening, testing the limit if you could come against his motions. Gradually, your moans – the only sound in the room – was mixed with his own. One deep groan, one you’d never heard before surprised you, of ‘fuck it’ – signaled a swift change that took your breath away. Steve’s mouth left your breasts, his hand left your core, as he moved over you. Everything happened so fast – you helping Steve fling his shirt over your head and his pants down around his ass, a loud thud mixing with the pillow above your head getting roughly tossed to the side of the bed, and Steve filling you up with his cock. His arms snaked above you, as his weight practically pinned you to the bed. You reached down towards your ass and moved the flesh away to hold your thighs open for him more. In a matter of milliseconds, he was animalistically fucking away all of the tension that had been building up between the two of you. The mix of of his hands padding away sensitively at your core, and then every inch of you getting railed, was almost too much to bare. You actually surprised Steve lasted as long as he did before taking matters literally into his own hands. Both of your moans echoed in the room as his thrusts grew messier and faster as you hit another high, and he hit his first, feeling him empty his essence inside you. Once the pace of his thrust sfinally began to smooth over and stop altogether, you laid underneath him, your arms wrapped underneath his above your head.

“That was….” Steve began to say before, his words tapered off. All you could do was nod. His hand started to nuzzle the side of your neck, the coarseness of his beard brushing against your face as your lolled your head to the side.

“….only the beginning,” you finished his sentence before his head whipped up and in the direction yours was facing. Your phone had been knocked to the ground along with the tripod, lying next to the pillow Steve had tossed around aside. The realization drew a laugh from both of you. You were sure there was enough material you and Steve would be happy to post if you had to cut out the grand finale. There was no need for words or apologies, not being entirely sure if the phone had been damaged from the fall...the only thing you could do was reconsider what you could plan for take two.

#nomad!steve rogers #nomad!steve x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #nomad steve rogers #marvel smut

[missmaywemeetagain]

Read Paisley Dreams Part 1 🏵 NOW!

Hello, my wonderful darlin’s! (And Happy 1st Bday to Pink Scarf!💗) This week's story is a special request from a dear Sugar Mama regarding Elvis’ sexy yellow shirt from August 6th, 1970 and how it disappeared. It’s coincidence that I happened to be working on it on the anniversary of him wearing it, but I just take that as a good sign from the universe LOL.

This one definitely got away from me, and because of that, I’m splitting it into two parts—consequently, Part 1 is more tension building and not very smutty but I promise Part 2 will have more spice!

Enjoy babies, and let me know what you think!

xoxox, Madi 💗

TW: attempted sexual assault, cussing, ass kicking, protective!e, passing reference to his weight/ed/drug issues, masturbation

Paisley Dreams (Part 1) 🏵💛🔥

August 1970

Elvis has a love-hate relationship with going out on the town, especially when going to his fellow entertainer’s shows. He loves the novelty of it, being able to be out in the world like a (somewhat) normal human being, to be able to interact with people that aren’t necessarily there to see him. He likes that the focus is on someone else for a change, and he loves talking with people who aren’t part of his immediate circle.

What he hates, however, is pulling focus from the people performing. It’s the reason he shows up a little late and gets seated after the lights go down. Contrary to what some idiots may believe, he does not want it to be The Elvis Show all the time. And while he likes being around new people, he doesn’t always enjoy the hobnobbing that is seemingly required with other celebrities, if in attendance. No, he’d rather talk with people he cares about or regular, everyday folks instead of putting on airs for some Hollywood types.

There is also something to the fact that he’s not in 100% control of those situations when things are not revolving around him, and while a little of that is thrilling and breaks through the boredom that can happen in his insular life, it can also be disconcerting. It leaves him a little more jittery than usual, but the stubborn part of him refuses to let it overcome him tonight.

Somedays, he wishes he could be invisible and could mull about as he pleases in obscurity. Problem is, he’s way too used to the attention being him brings, and whether or not he’d admit it to anyone else, it would make him feel mightily insecure if no one at all knew who he was, if not one person came up to say hi or get an autograph. He had a little taste of that with Steve before the ’68 Special, when he’d been told in so many words to get over himself when no one stopped him on the street in front of the studio.

He hadn’t liked it, no siree, despite the freedom and lack of pressure it offered in the moment. No, he was much too used to being Elvis Presley. It is the conundrum of his life, of a fame unlike any other, that leaves him to continually pendulum from being trapped by it on one end and unable to live without it on the other.

Tonight, he fortifies himself for a night that won’t be entirely under his control and heads over to Nancy Sinatra’s show at Caesar’s Palace. Something about the unpredictability makes him feel a little more alive, like something exciting is just waiting for just the right moment to happen and bring him along with it. He much prefers thinking in those terms and not in terms of threats of harm.

Since Nancy is a good friend, he keeps himself rather understated for the evening. He knows he looks sharp in his high-collared, well-tailored chocolate suit, with a paisley yellow shirt underneath. His belt is simple (for him, at least). The outfit does not scream “look at me!” He wants the attention to be on Nancy and not him.

He also refused to bring the whole damn entourage tonight, feeling a little bit smothered by the sea of men he’s cultivated around him. He’d settled for Charlie, Richard, and Felton as his companions for the evening, despite Joe and Red’s protestations. All he wants is a little fun, a little music that isn’t his, and a little break from the pressure of rehearsals for his own engagement that starts in a few days—complete with a movie crew from MGM to film the damn thing.

He likes rising to the challenge of it, but hell, it makes him more nervous than usual. A lot is riding on his ability to deliver a fabulous show, and not only that, but they’ve been filming the rehearsals, too, so he feels like he’s under the microscope even when he normally isn’t. That coupled with learning three times as many songs as usual has his brain feeling fuzzy and him sleeping worse than usual. Nothing a pill (or three) can’t fix, though.

At least it’s all…stimulating. And Lord knows he’s a man that needs stimulation and variety, something that is harder and harder to come by with his life being the way it is.

But tonight isn’t about him. And everything seems to be going according to plan—there’s a little attention on him with fans and photos and such, enough to make him feel good, but most of the focus is elsewhere. It feels like he can breathe a little.

The show is great; he enjoys seeing Nance after, though his heart always does a little flip around her. She’s been a soft spot for him for a long time, and despite his multiple attempts to endear her a little more intimately to him, she’s always kept him mostly on the straight and narrow. He loves her even more for keeping him in check, though he still wouldn’t mind a tousle in the bedroom with her.

And it’s here he finds himself, ruminating pleasantly, if not a bit hopefully, on the past, when the lot of them sneak out through the back kitchens in order to avoid the crush of people out front waiting for a glimpse of him.

He certainly doesn’t expect to come upon some drunken asshole aggressively throwing a young woman up against the wall down the dark alley behind the Palace. His eyes narrow and a surge of adrenaline wafts through him as he tries to figure out what exactly is happening and why. Body standing to attention, he’s grateful his karate training comes in handy in times like these—which is precisely why he keeps up on the craft.

“Don’t think we should get involved, EP,” Richard warns, putting his hand out as if to stop him from moving towards the scuffle, but he bats it away like a fly.

“Come on, you little tart. I know you want it. You know you’re jus’ askin’ for it up there in those skimpy costumes, don’tcha?” the guy slurs at her, groping at her breasts.

Elvis hastens his stride down the alley, blood up, nerves tingling, and ready to kick this guy’s ass for assaulting this poor showgirl.

“Get the fuck off me, creep!” she screams back at the guy, slapping his hand away, and looking more angry than afraid, she stomps on the guy’s foot and knees him hard in the nuts.

Elvis can’t help but cringe, but the guy deserves it. Good on her.

“You bitch!” the asshole shrieks, clutching his groin. Unfortunately, in his pain, or maybe just because he’s that much of a dick, the man yanks down on her flimsy top, ripping it apart and right off her chest, exposing her braless breasts. Then, he lunges for her throat.

With a growl, Elvis takes his last few steps quickly, easily knocking the drunk bastard off his feet with a well-placed kick and sending him sprawling onto the dirty pavement. The guy lands with a groan, shaking his head. Elvis goes down on one knee and pulls him up by the shirt.

“Hey, fuck you, man! This ain’t none of your business—” the guy starts, flailing up at him drunkenly before his eyes go wide and he stops abruptly. “Holy shit, you’re—”

“I’m the guy who’s gonna kick your ass from here to Sunday if ya don’t apologize to this nice young lady and get your ass back to whatever sewer you crawled outta,” Elvis spits out, quick and cutting, his blue eyes flashing with something the man doesn’t want to test. He is self-aware enough to know that his presence is big enough to knock even sober men for a loop, and that’s when he’s not angry.

The guy opens and closes his mouth like a guppy, looking altogether wrecked and muddled by his predicament.

“Boss?” he hears Charlie’s cautioning voice from behind him, and Elvis puts up a hand to tell him he’s got this. There are some things he can do on his own.

“Well?” Elvis asks, turning his attention back to the jerk on the ground, dragging the guy up by his ugly polyester shirt.

“I-I-I—” he stutters, looking bleary eyed from Elvis to the young lady.

Elvis uses the toe of his boot and grinds down slowly on the man’s fingers.

The guy yelps, then sobs, then looks helplessly at Elvis, “Okay! Okay! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Don’t tell me. Tell her,” Elvis emphasizes, still wanting to make this guy pay. He points up to the young lady, who is standing there frozen against the wall, her arms desperately trying to cover her bared chest.

The man’s eyes narrow, obviously feeling it’s beneath him to apologize to a girl.

“Okay,” Elvis sighs dramatically, easily raising himself from the ground without using his hands, “but don’t say I didn’t warn ya.” He brings his foot back as though he’s gonna kick the man in the gut, and it has the intended effect.

“Alright, alright!” the guy shouts, curling in on himself while holding out his hand to stop Elvis. He begrudgingly looks at the woman. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry!”

“For what exactly?” Elvis asks, raising an eyebrow. He is getting more of a kick out of playing with this drunkard than he should, but he can’t deny he enjoys the pulse of blood through his veins as he gets to be the hero.

“I-I-I’m sorry…for…for touching you a-and ripping your top! I’m sorry!” he cries defeatedly.

“Was that so hard?” Elvis muses. “Now get the hell outta here before I decide I’m bein’ too nice and let my boys have a crack atcha.”

The man gulps and nods, then his legs wheel a bit as he tries to get up too fast and clambers clumsily out of the alleyway.

Adrenaline waning, Elvis turns to the woman, immediately softening his features and his voice—a well-honed skill. “Are you okay, Miss?”

She looks at him like he’s grown two heads. “Yes. No. I’m not sure…I had that under control, you know,” she adds a little bitterly.

“Oh, didja now?” he replies, amused by her fiery response.

She does not look amused as she shrugs her shoulders defiantly, then remembers she’s got no top on. Her green eyes widen to saucers, and she grasps her breasts tighter, succeeding in pushing them together and creating ample cleavage that in any other circumstance would have him looking twice. But this is not the time, and he feels guilty for even glancing at her in this state.

“Shit. I’m an idiot,” he mumbles, realizing how uncomfortable she must be half naked in a dark alley full of men she doesn’t know. He scrambles to unbutton his already half-open yellow paisley shirt the rest of the way, then shrugs out of his jacket, pulling the shirt along with it.

Her mouth parts in what he assumes is disbelief as he becomes as bare as she is from the waist up. It’s vulnerable and disarming in a way he doesn’t initially intend—he more just wants to give her something she can truly cover up with and his jacket only has the one button. He’s not in the habit of running around with his shirt off these days, even though he’s slimmed down for his upcoming performances (because God knows the cameras will add ten pounds whether he likes it or not). Years of being shamed about his weight in one way or another by directors, the Colonel, and the gossip magazines always have him self-conscious, even when he’s slim, which is perhaps why he is so readily understanding of the girl’s current predicament. The August Vegas night is hot, and he feels a tinge cooler now when the air hits the sweat beaded over his skin.

“Here, honey, put this on,” he says and holds the shirt out to her.

Her mirth shifts to guarded thanks, but then she shakes her head and tightens her arms around herself. He realizes that she can’t take the shirt without exposing herself more.

“Oh. Turn around, sweetheart,” he coos at her. “I won’t hurt ya none.” He throws his jacket to Charlie, who is suddenly by his side, and holds his shirt open for her.

She turns cautiously, letting him help her as she slips her shaking arms into the oversized sleeves. “Thanks,” she whispers quietly, and he watches as she fumbles unsuccessfully with the buttons because her hands are trembling so badly.

“Lemme help, darlin’,” he says, reassuringly, “I promise I ain’t gonna look atcha.”

Seemingly frustrated at herself for needing his continued assistance, she relents and turns back to him, her doe eyes brimming with unshed tears.

He does everything in him to not look at her pretty, soft skin, or her legs that go on for days, focusing the best he can on the task of doing up the highest buttons in order to give her some modesty. Of course, his shirts being designed as they are, specifically for him and his open-chested style, there aren’t buttons as high up as there should be. The shirt is already too big on her, so she’s still showing quite a bit of skin, but is certainly better than it her previous nakedness. He looks up at her as if to say sorry, and she just looks away uncomfortably.

Elvis nods, then races to do up the rest of them, needing to kneel before her to get the lowest ones. The act feels very intimate, him half-undressed but dressing her in this prostrated position, and it sends a warmth spreading across his bare chest. He looks up at her, finding her watching him carefully for any impropriety. He is determined not to give her any, but when her intense, tearful green eyes meet his, he feels a bit off-kilter for the way it makes him feel. His heart drops into his stomach like he’s on a roller coaster.

Uh oh. He knows that feeling all too well, and it usually ends with him neck deep in infatuation at the very least and in love at the most.

“All set,” he says, looking down almost bashfully. Clearing his throat, he raises effortlessly up to standing, and Charlie hands him his jacket to put back on.

“Thank you, Mr. Presley,” she says quietly, the edge in her voice gone now that she’s swimming in his yellow shirt and the threat is gone. Her pretty pink lip bottom lip wavers.

Then she bursts into tears.

There is nothing that pulls at his heartstrings quite like a pretty young thing weeping. She’s proven herself anything but helpless but having been through such an ordeal would be frightening regardless.

“Aww, it’s okay, sweetheart, you’re safe now. Let’s get you home,” he says. He suddenly wants nothing more than to swoop her up into the protective cocoon that is his penthouse so no one can ever hurt her again, but he gets the distinct impression that bringing her into a private den full of older men is not the right move in this situation.

Sniffling, she swipes angrily under her stage makeup-smeared eyes as she attempts to get ahold of herself. He recognizes her need to not appear weak, to retain her dignity, so he gives her a minute to collect herself even though he wants to sweep her into his arms and tell her he can make everything alright.

It takes her a moment and he can tell she wants to tell him no, that she can get home on her own, thankyouverymuch, but after closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she finally nods in acceptance.

Something in his heart soars because he likes feeling needed, likes truly helping people, and enjoys the warmhearted feeling it gives him to put others before himself. It is also the least he can do after what she’s been through.

Though it certainly doesn’t hurt that she’s a looker with her long, caramel colored hair, intelligent jade eyes, and showgirl body. He knows he would’ve helped her regardless of all of that but, even so, at 35 he’s still a virile man who can see what is plain in front of his face. And there’s something about her resilience that attracts him beyond her looks. A flash in her eyes that tells him her soul is guarded and complex and beautiful all at once. There’s a hint of darkness he can relate to, one that, combined with all the rest, sends his overly romantic heart into overdrive.

As he, Charlie, Richard, and Felton lead her trembling but head-held-high form to the car, he can’t help but think God put him in the right place at the right time tonight.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks gently once they are in the car.

“Pepper. My name is Pepper.”

*

This night is turning out to be incredibly strange, Pepper thinks as she shakily unlocks the door to her apartment. She hates that she can’t seem to stop shivering after the whole ordeal in the alley. No matter how many deep breaths she took in the car, she is still shaking like a leaf and she can’t decide if the fact that Elvis Presley is at her elbow is making it better or worse.

Finally jimmying the door open, she nearly falls inside, feeling all too unsteady in her high heels. Exhausted, it doesn’t help matters that she can’t remember if she ate today, between her waitressing shift at the diner and her showgirl gig at the Palace. She forces herself not to cry the stupid tears that pool stubbornly in her eyes. No, she doesn’t think she ate today and she’s cursing the fact because she’s quickly turning into an embarrassing pile of weepy nonsense, in front of Elvis Presley, no less.

This isn’t like her. She is no damsel in distress. She’s a strong, capable young woman who’s been dealt a bit of a shit hand, but she’s got it under control. She’s always got it under control.

Liar.

Pepper turns in the doorway to say goodnight and thank you to the man who so annoyingly but luckily had her back in that alley. She doesn’t want to think too hard about what could have happened if Elvis hadn’t appeared when he did, like some sort of movie star hero. Unfortunately, the spin towards him makes her dizzy and her wobbly knees start to give way.

“Hey now, little one, let’s get you settled, huh?” Elvis drawls out at her as he puts an arm around her waist and effortlessly ushers her into the apartment. She’s suddenly too exhausted to protest. It’s not often that anyone takes care of her. Honestly, she can’t remember the last time someone did, or the last time there was a man in her apartment.

He deposits her on her secondhand couch and its one of the many things tonight that has her embarrassed. Then again, she wasn’t expecting an incredibly handsome superstar to be gracing the walls of her tiny, dingy apartment.

Elvis stares down at her for a moment and his gaze is heavy and all-encompassing. It’s not what she expects—she’s used to the heated, horny looks she attracts from men—because it’s as if he’s surveying the situation, reading her with an intuitive intelligence she is not prepared for. She knows how to deal with men gawking at her—but treating her kindly with no expectations in return? This is unfamiliar in every way.

He nods to himself, making some sort of decision. His stance, one hip jutted out, hands on his hips and looking off to the side with his pouty lips parted, makes her feel a little funny in her belly.

Or maybe that’s just the hunger talking.

Her pride wants him to go, to not survey her poor existence and pity her. But the rest of her, the weak part of her desperate to have someone take care of her for once, wants him to stay.

Surprisingly, his face is devoid of judgement of her circumstance when his oceanic blue eyes meet hers again. There seems to be only concern and a bit of humor there. This confuses her.

“I’m starvin’,” he declares suddenly. “What would you say to some hamburgers?” His eyes sparkle—actually sparkle—when they look at her for approval.

Her stomach growls and before she can think better of the strangeness of eating hamburgers with Elvis in her crappy apartment, she’s nodding her head furiously.

“Charlie! Hey, man, get us some hamburgers and fries and shakes, will ya?” he tells the tiny guy who seems to be some sort of friend/employee, probably part of his infamous Memphis Mafia she’s read about in magazines.

It comes to her then that the man she’s read about and listened to and watched on screen for years is now in her home, and she is swimming in his yellow shirt. It smells wonderful—a heady, spicy mix of cologne and soap and sweat—and a silly part of her never wants to take it off.

Oh, god, he’s seen my tits, she realizes, her cheeks flushing.

“Hey, lemme get ya somethin’ to drink, honey,” he says, extraordinarily and infuriatingly observant, as he goes to pilfer around her kitchen.

“Oh, I’m just the worst hostess. I can get it,” she murmurs attempting to push herself off the couch.

He stops abruptly and points at her. “Stay.”

Pepper freezes. The command in his deep, drawling baritone is assertive and unarguable, sending a thrilled shiver down her spine that she’s not ready for. Almost as if her body were not her own, she slides back into the sofa.

“Whatchu got in this here ree-frig-er-a-tor?” he says, rummaging around in what she knows is a sad excuse for one. Her schedule hasn’t allowed time for her to go grocery shopping. She can hear him humming a familiar tune as he goes, and there’s something beautifully domestic about the whole thing that she doesn’t feel she deserves. He returns with two cans of Pepsi, popping the tab on hers before handing it to her, then doing his own.

She can’t quite bring herself to look him in the eye. “Thank you,” she says quietly, suddenly parched. She tries to be ladylike about it but can’t help but gulp some of the fizzy cola down as fast as possible. Of course, this all goes awry the moment the carbonation hits her empty stomach, causing an uncontrollable rolling belch to erupt her throat.

“Oh my god!” she gasps, throwing a hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry!” For some reason, this rudeness feels almost more humiliating that her top being ripped off earlier. At least with that, it hadn’t been her fault. This was just bad manners.

Elvis looks at her seriously, blue eyes narrowed as if he might scold her, and she holds her breath, wanting to crawl into a hole and die. Then he starts laughing.

It’s a giggling, hiccupping, musical sound that immediately disarms her in its contagiousness. She can’t help the way her own giggles bubble up. Suddenly, the absolute ridiculousness of this entire night has her doubled over with exhausted, hungry laughter, and he follows right along with her.

They are just starting to get themselves under control when she snorts. Elvis completely loses it and falls apart all over again.

Tears are pouring down her face now, and she’s grateful for this release in this way. It’s better than her weak and frustrated tears from earlier, and as she watches Elvis, she sees just how utterly beautiful, unselfconscious, and almost innocent he seems in his laughter.

She wonders if he laughs often. She hopes so.

Eventually, they are both wiping their faces and the giggle fits are dying down.

“Peppercorn, you are too much,” he smiles, shaking his head with a few lingering chuckles. “Who knew such sounds could come from such a pretty little girl like you?”

Peppercorn? She smiles at the nickname. If anyone else had called her that, she might have their head, but Elvis…well, he can call her anything he wants. Butterflies start rolling in her empty stomach when she realizes he’s called her pretty in such a way that it sounds like an obvious fact and not a come-on. Oh, he’s skilled.

The fact is, it’s almost bashful the way he looks down and then his eyelashes flutter back up to meet hers from the other end of the couch. As if she had called him pretty and not the other way around.

He opens his mouth to speak, and she thinks he just might say something profoundly charming, but his friend Charlie chooses that moment to reemerge with an arm full of food and shakes. And her stomach chooses that moment to growl loud enough for the room to hear, sending Elvis and her back into peals of laughter.

Charlie looks confused, but laughs along anyway, pretending to get the joke as he sets the food down on the rickety second-hand coffee table in front of the sofa. Then, without a word, he makes himself scarce.

Elvis digs right into the bag, taking everything out of it, handing her a wrapped burger and then tearing the bag apart to make a sort of makeshift tray on the table.

“I do have plates, you know,” she says with a lingering chuckle, moving to get up. She’d certainly never seen a man of his caliber of celebrity—probably one of the richest in this town—eat off a greasy paper bag before.

“Don’t you worry yourself. I’m just fine,” he says, unwrapping and taking a giant bite of his hamburger, followed by a handful of fries. “Eat your food, Peppercorn.”

She’s way too hungry to argue. After the burp and the snort, she doesn’t put on too many airs about eating daintily, either.

“Tell me about yourself,” he says in such an earnest way that she cannot stop herself from doing so. As they devour the food, he asks her questions, and she finds herself telling him about how she’d moved here because there wasn’t much work in her small town, about how she sends most of what she makes back to her house-bound mama and little sister.

These are things she doesn’t tell people here, preferring to tell a common tale of wanting the glitz and glamour of being a famous showgirl, instead of sharing that she’s using what God gave her only to support her kin. But by the haunted look in his eyes, it’s as if he knows, like he truly understandswhat it means to keep family at the forefront and tell the world something different. So her mouth keeps moving and she shares too much, but she’s weary and hungry and Elvis Presley is in her damn living room eating burgers like it’s a completely normal occurrence.

“So, you’re tellin’ me what you’re doin’ now ain’t your dream?” he asks.

She can’t help but choke a little at that. “Um, no,” she says, wiping sauce off her lip with a finger. “Waitressing all day and being eyed-up all night is not my dream. It’s a means to an end. And I’m happy to do it.”

“For your family.”

“Yes, for my family.”

“And what about you, honey? What’s your dream?” He says it in such a perfunctory way that it takes her aback. It’s a question no one’s ever bothered to ask her.

“I…I don’t know,” she says, looking away from his curious, reading stare.

“Mmm, not sure that’s true, baby. Ev’rybody’s got a dream,” he says. “Hell, I was just a poor boy drivin’ a truck ‘fore all this took off. Could barely sing in front of anyone but there was this…this thinginside me I can’t explain, pushin’ me forward in spite of it all.”

“Really?” she says, shocked at this revelation. She didn’t know those things about him, and they make him seem more human and all the more unique all at once.

He nods. “So, what’s your dream?” he says, looking at her with a curious expectation she can’t deny.

She gulps down a mouthful of burger. “Okay, well, this is probably stupid, but I’ve always liked numbers.”

“Numbers?” he questions, confused.

“Yeah, I like solving problems. Making everything add up. Numbers are…calm, predictable, I guess. I’m sure that sounds strange, a showgirl telling you she likes math. Most men…well, they think it’s weird,” she rambles, feeling her face get hot.

He shakes his head. “Naw, it just weren’t what I was expectin’, is all. Usually pretty girls like you, they…” he trails off, not needing to finish the sentence to get the point across, “but I like that you’re different. Special.” He looks at her with a sort of pride, like he’s discovered some treasure in her she can’t see in herself.

This sends a wave of appreciation over her that she isn’t prepared for, and she smiles broadly. “So, I suppose my dream is to work with numbers. Money, maybe? I guess I’ve never really let myself think that far into it. I haven’t been able to, with everything else…That must sound silly,” she says, feeling too exposed all the sudden.

“Not at all, honey,” he reassures her, finishing off his burger and fries. She gets caught up in looking at his full, pouty lips covered in grease and has the inappropriate urge to touch them. Blinking, she looks away, hoping he didn’t catch her staring.

“Sorry I’m talking too much. I usually don’t tell people...I don’t…I’m not one to…” She hides the floundering embarrassment of both her circumstance and her attraction behind the last loud slurp of her milkshake.

“Naw, Peppercorn, don’t go bein’ ashamed of doin’ what it takes to take care of your family or about havin’ dreams for yourself. We’re more alike than you think, darlin’,” he says, wiping his hands on the paper napkins from the bag.

She quirks her eyebrow at him.

He sighs, as though he’s been holding a weight on his shoulders. “I’m know I’m lucky. My dream came true and’s put me in a position that most don’t ever get to. I’ve spent a long time makin’ sure my people are taken care of, and I love to be able to do it, but I also know it can be…” he trails off, a look of guilt flashing over his features as he waves his hand in the air.

All she can do is nod at this confession. He doesn’t need to finish for her to know exactly what he means. Burdensome. Difficult. Soul-sucking.

He shakes himself off, whistling lowly, a shy smile curving up on his face.

Pepper’s heart starts pounding in her chest partially because he’s trusted her with this knowledge of himself and she’s trusted him with her own. The vulnerability of that is strange and somewhat uncomfortable to sit with. But it pounds also because she realizes with chagrin the meal is over and she doesn’t know what he expects of her next.

Despite her job, she does not have a habit of spending the night with men she’s just met, but Elvis is not just any man. There have only been a handful of boyfriends, half of which were back at home, and certainly none recently with what little free time she has. She’s no prude but she’s not exactly experienced, either. And one-night stands are not her thing.

He has been nothing but a gentleman this whole night and didn’t even ogle her when her top had been ripped. There was no reason to even think that he wanted such a thing from her, yet there is tension building in the air that she doesn’t know what to do with. Maybe it’s because when she looks at him in his well-cut suit with no shirt underneath (shivering at the fact it’s because it’s on her) and sees the sweaty tuft of chest hair that is exposed against his tan skin, something deeply primal rises in her and she wants more than anything to feel it beneath her hands.

Pepper blinks and quickly looks away. She knows what it’s like to be eyed up and down by the opposite sex and thinks it’s a little strange that they share that in common, too. Making him uncomfortable is the last thing she wants to do but now she is not sure what to do with her eyes and finds herself staring at a tear in the fabric of the sofa instead.

Elvis coughs, and she can’t help but look up at him then. Getting caught in those endless, sparkling eyes, mere feet from her, she wonders how in the hell the world is supposed to go back to normal after tonight. How she is supposed to go back to working her multiple soul-sucking jobs, to try to forget the way he is looking at her now, like she is actually something special? That she matters enough to save her in a back alley and is worth him literally giving her the shirt off his back?

Her body betrays her, then, a huge yawn escaping her mouth of its own accord. It reminds her it has been an extraordinarily long day and that she has the monotony of another tomorrow, despite everything that has happened in the last few hours.

“I think it’s time for me to go and let you get some rest, little one,” he says quietly, that little smile of his pulling at his mouth in a way that makes her think he doesn’t want to leave but will anyway because that is the kind of man he really is—not some sex-crazed superstar locked in an ivory tower that the magazines might try and make him out to be. He stands and makes for the door.

Jumping up abruptly, Pepper follows him to the door. She is not ready for this to end. She is not ready for this to be the last time she ever sees Elvis Presley. But she is also realistic and practical. Her life is no fairy tale, nor does she need a prince to save her, as tempting as it all may seem in the moment.

“T-thank you…for earlier. As much as I’m loathe to admit it, I don’t want to think about what might have happened if you hadn’t come along,” she says quietly, feeling utterly caught in his blue-eyed gaze. “And thanks for the food, too. I’m feeling much better.”

There is a twinkle in his eye. “I’m glad I could be there for you when you needed it, Peppercorn,” he says with such kindness that she thinks she might cry.

Silence sits heavily between them and she can’t seem to tear her eyes away from his. He finally turns to go, hand on the knob, and she moves closer to hold the door, but suddenly he pauses and turns back. She nearly runs into him. This close, she can feel the heat radiating off his body and it scares her how much she craves the comfort of it.

“My show o-opens this w-week,” he says, stammering endearingly. “I’d like you to be there.”

Her heart jumps into her throat and her limbs feel tingly. “I would love to,” she gushes but then reality hits her and her face falls, “but I have to work. I-I can’t afford to lose my job. I’m so sorry.” She wants to cry, but that would be even worse than rejecting his offer. Don’t be a baby.

Pepper thinks she might imagine it, but Elvis seems defeated, too, for a split second before he smiles knowingly. “Well, we’ll see what happens, honey. The universe works in mysterious ways, don’t it?”

Cocking her head to the side, she wonders what he means by this, but she is too disappointed to try to piece it out now. She is also distracted by his bare chest rising and falling so close, the scent of him permeating her senses. The air in the room feels thick and hot, despite the whirring of the air conditioner in the window. He starts to turn again towards the door.

I don’t want him to go.

“Wait!” she shouts, a little too loudly for the proximity and he jumps a bit. “Your shirt—let me get changed real quick and I can give you back your shirt,” she rambles out, making for her bedroom.

His hand encompasses her small wrist, his firm touch branding her in such a pleasurable way that she gasps. He turns her back around to face him, bringing her closer towards him. She goes willingly, too enthralled by the nearness of him to keep her distance. She’s usually better than this, keeping a safe distance from the wiles of men, but she has never felt the pull of someone so strongly. It’s like he’s magnetized. And he’s succeeded in making her feel safe and valued in a way she’s not used to, leaving her rather defenseless against his charms.

“Don’t bother, sweetheart. It looks better on you anyway,” he says, his lips curling up into a grin that melts her heart into a pile of goo. He runs his fingers along and down the tall collar of the shirt, and the action, while innocent, sends a glorious heat into her belly.

“Oh,” is all she can manage to get out, her tongue tied into knots. She desperately doesn’t want this to end. She considers asking him to stay, but both courage and words fail her.

His eyes scan her face and then he brushes her long hair back over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Peppercorn, I have a feeling we’ll be seeing more of each other soon,” he says, as if reading her mind, as if he doesn’t want this to end either.

She nods, as if this makes all the sense in the world. It sets her heart galloping. She feels like it is about to beat out of her body when his long finger tilts her chin up to him, and he leans in and kisses her ever-so-gently on the cheek.

Her breath catches at the feel of his soft lips on her skin. It is somehow chaste yet incredibly erotic all at the same time. As a long-neglected warmth pools between her legs, a giddiness that washes over her that makes her feel like a schoolgirl.

Elvis lingers perhaps a moment too long before pulling back. “Goodnight, honey,” he whispers, then turns and leaves.

“Goodnight, Elvis,” she manages to squeak out before he disappears into darkness.

Once he’s out of sight, Pepper closes and locks the door, befuddled and hopeful and confused all at once. Her forehead lands on the wood as she closes her eyes, trying to reconcile this whole night with some semblance of reality.

He surprised her, truly, in his ability to be so down to earth. She is astonished (though perhaps she shouldn’t be) that he seems so complex, and she can’t help feeling connected to him because of all the small ways they are unpredictably alike. There is a part of her that very much wants to believe him when he said they would see each other again, but she knows her life isn’t build on wishes and dreams. It never has been, and she doesn’t expect that will change anytime soon, despite the bizarre fact that she can still smell the lingering scent of Elvis’ cologne in her living room.

Just be glad you had any time with him at all, she tells herself to try and manage her expectations. It would take a miracle for us to cross paths again.

Suddenly exhausted, she floats through her bedtime routine in a daze. But her doubts about the future don’t stop her from sleeping in his shirt, though, savoring the lingering scent of him on her skin and in her bed. And the feel of his lips on her cheek replays in her mind over and over as she reaches into her already damp panties to relive the ache he’s left her with. It doesn’t take much to bring her over the edge—imagining his sweet, pouty lips on her and his long fingers deep inside her does the trick—before she arches up with a strangled cry, clenching around nothing but a fantasy.

Breathing hard and barely sated, she collapses into the bed, wishing she’d been bold enough to invite him in with her. Refusing to wallow in regret, she finally manages to drift off to sleep with the unrealistically hopeful thought that his knowing smile means she’ll get to see him again someday soon, just as he promised.

Era One-Shot

A/N: This one has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for quite a while. Sweet Symphony started as a special request for '68 Special era Elvis from my Get to Know Me Gala way back in March! I also included the prompt, "Do it again, please." Nothing like a good two-fer!

A professional violinist Reader gets a little more than she bargains for after rehearsal for Elvis Presley's '68 Special...

Mature 18+ || Word count: 9.2k

TW: Sexxx in various forms, fluff, cussing, dubious use of a piano

For my most patient baby, @savedrebelcreation 💗

(If you want to get stories like this early, come join my Patreon!)

GIF by seredelgi

Sweet Symphony

A ’68 Special Era Request

You’re early. Too early, in fact, but your mother always said, “If you’re on time, you’re late,” so it goes to reason that for such an important job, you find yourself clicking your heels into the rehearsal room a full hour before it’s set to start.

The only reason they allowed you in this early is that your brother-in-law, Billy, is the one in charge of this portion of the production rehearsal, arranging the music for Elvis Presley’s television special due out in December. He had been tasked, rather last minute, to take over the musical arrangements. When your sister called on Billy’s behalf, saying he desperately needed a professional violinist to fill in for the one who’d been suddenly struck with a bout of appendicitis, you were a little confused at first. Why in the world would Elvis Presley need a violinist? had been the first thought in your head, but a job is a job, and you figure a television special of this magnitude wouldn’t hurt your classical resume.

Sure, why not? you’d thought, then packed up your violin and got a ticket for the next plane out to LA. If nothing else, I’ll get some sun.

Since your plane arrived late, you made the executive decision to go straight to the studio rather than chance the traffic by checking into your hotel first. Which is how you find yourself in the near-dark rehearsal space before anyone else has even thought to arrive, violin and suitcase in tow. At least you’ll get a chance to look over the score Billy just handed you before anyone else arrives, you think, finding a chair and settling in to unpack and prepare your instrument.

So focused are you that you don’t really register the door opening and then latching closed. You figure it is just Billy, who had been frantically going over sheet music up in the booth. When the piano begins to play, softly, you nearly jump out of your skin with surprise, having been so lost in sight reading and humming your part that you were oblivious to the presence of another in the room.

“Oh my god!” you gasp in surprise, managing to knock the loose pages of the score off the music stand as your hand flies up to your chest. “Damnit,” you mutter under your breath, scurrying to pick up the pages and put them back in order.

“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to startle ya,” you hear a gentle voice drawl out from the darkness.

“Oh, no, I just wasn’t expecting anyone in here so early and I was so caught up in…” you taper off, furrowing your brow and trying to get your sheet music situated.

“Here, lemme help you with that,” the voice says, kneeling to pick up loose pages.

“Oh, thank…” your voice hitches when you look down at the man holding up more music that had fluttered away across the floor.

It’s the sparkling sapphire blue eyes that catch you first, framed in criminally long, dark lashes, blinking up at you from where he’s kneeling on the floor next to your chair. They are utterly mesmerizing in the way they search your face apologetically. Your voice dies in your suddenly dry throat, and so mesmerized are you with those eyes that it takes you much too long to take in the rest of him.

That’s when you realize that the man with the pretty eyes on his knees near your feet is the one and only Elvis Presley.

“…you. Thank you,” you manage to finish, gingerly taking the pages from his grasp.

Elvis smiles up at you so bashfully, so charmingly, that it takes your breath away.

It doesn’t hit you until this very moment that you are playing for the Elvis Presley. Between everything happening so quickly and you assuming you wouldn’t get to meet the man himself, you just hadn’t considered the magnitude of the job.

You’d just hit your teenage years when Elvis came into his stardom, the timing perfect for swooning over the Southern boy with the rebellious good looks and the completely unique sound. But your parents had been strict and conservative, opting for your upbringing to be filled with learning and playing classical music, so the only chance you’d had to listen to Elvis was when you went to your girlfriend’s house. There you could swoon over him unimpeded, but it was more vicarious than anything else. And by the time you were old enough to properly swoon to your heart’s content, you were so busy with your music degree that it hadn’t really crossed your mind to ogle over Elvis.

To be quite honest, you had become a bit of a music snob at that point, so Elvis wasn’t really on your radar, though you had been impressed by his reworked English version of O Solo Mio. His It’s Now or Never had been a massive hit, and he had amazed you with his vocal talent, which you were convinced was wasted on silly pop songs. Needless to say, Elvis and his music had been off your radar for a long, long time.

You certainly hadn’t realized the man had only gotten more attractive as time went on. Magazine pictures and even his movies (which you hadn’t cared to watch since the beginning of the decade) don’t do him justice, which is saying something since you’d never once seen the man look anything less than handsome. But those damn eyes pop against his tanned skin and raven hair, and that curved-lip smile has butterflies flying in your stomach like a schoolgirl.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks quietly, still kneeling at your feet.

“My name? Oh, um, my name is y/n,” you stammer out. You could kick yourself for how gobsmacked you sound, a grown professional woman nearly forgetting her own name in the presence of an attractive man. But the thing is he isn’t just attractive—he’s ethereal.

“Well, hello there, y/n. I’m Elvis,” he says, as if he were just some regular Joe and not one of the most famous men alive. “What do you play?” He motions to your music.

“Uh, violin. Well, and piano, but violin professionally,” you reply, unable to take your eyes off him.

His eyes light up at this. “I play piano, too,” he says, with such a little boy quality that you can’t help but smile.

“Oh?” This surprises you quite a bit since he is so synonymous with the birth of rock and roll and you’d only ever seen him with an acoustic guitar.

“Yeah, a lotta people don’t know that, but between you and me, I like playin’ piano more,” he says, with a wink. Elvis stands up from his crouch with little effort, so lithely that you equate it to a dancer. Your eyes follow up, up, up his lean frame, and you try not to notice just how well his tailored outfit fits him.

He walks back towards the piano he came from, and you blush when you catch yourself staring at his backside, like some sort of lecherous creep. Quickly turning your attention back to the pages of music in your lap, you force yourself to try and make sense of page numbers, shuffling them back into order.

“Do you know this one?” Elvis suddenly asks, shocking you by playing the opening notes of a well-known Beethoven piece.

“Yeah, I mean, yes. I do,” you respond, still stumbling over your words. “That’s Moonlight Sonata.”

“What happens after this part?” he asks, playing the beginning again. The question seems quite honest, still having that curious, young quality about it. Before you think better of it, you’re walking over to the piano.

“May I?” you say, standing near the bench. Music is your language. You’ve always been better with an instrument at your fingertips than with your words. It makes you feel bolder, so when Elvis only scoots over instead of yielding the bench, it doesn’t stop you from perching next to him.

It only takes a second for the movement to come back to you and you place your hands on the keys, letting them speak for you. You’ve done your share of teaching, so it doesn’t take but a moment to fall into that role. You just try not to think too hard on that fact that it’s Elvis Presley that you’re teaching.

He’s nodding along, eyes focused solely on your hands. So close to him, you can feel the way the music affects his body. It’s something you can relate to.

You stop yourself from speeding too far ahead in the music and pull your hands away from the keys. “Is that…do you want me to go again, or do you want to try it?” you ask.

“Do it again. Please?” he asks watching your hands with incredible focus.

You do, trying to keep it simple and without too much flourish.

“Okay, so it’s like this then?” he says after you finish, and as his long, slender fingers glide across the keys, you realize they are musician’s fingers. They may be dripping with jewels that are likely more expensive than your apartment, but they are quite perfect for the kind of instruments he plays. It strikes you he was made to do this.

You recognize then that Elvis is truly a musician and not just a performer. The way he concentrates, learning and adapting quickly as you show him more of the song, only by ear and sight, amazes you.

It's through the music that you begin to calm. Talking one musician to another is much more manageable than considering the magnitude of the person you’re speaking with. Frankly, you are completely amazed by how incredibly gentle and disarming the man is.

When the door opens again, both of you are consumed enough in the music that it doesn’t faze you much.

“Oh, hey Elvis! Just the man I needed to see. I hope y/n isn’t bothering you,” Billy says, in a teasing tone only a family member could produce.

“Hello to you, too, Billy,” you say, a bit annoyed at the interruption and at feeling put in your place as if you were still a child.

“Oh, no, not at all. She’s a great teacher,” Elvis grins, bumping your shoulder. “You two…know each other?” he then asks, his smile faltering in the slightest as he looks from you to Billy. The question is innocent enough, but the way he says it gives you pause and your heart flips.

“Since she was practically in diapers. She’s my sister-in-law,” Billy says.

“Twelve isn’t in diapers, Billy,” you scoff at him, then turn to Elvis. “He’s married to my older sister yet has never hesitated to treat me like a baby. Lucky me.”

“Aw, you know I only put up with you because you’re too talented for your own good,” Billy ribs, making to muss your hair.

You duck swiftly out of the way, bumping into Elvis in the process. “Oh, sorry!” you breath out.

Elvis just chuckles at the two of you, looking pleased as punch, though you’re not exactly sure why.

“I think what you meant to say is, ‘Thank you for dropping everything to fly across the country last minute to help me, dearest sister-in-law,’” you throw at Billy, batting your lashes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure I’ll never hear the end of it. Now, skedaddle. I need to talk to Elvis,” Billy shoos you.

You suppress the urge to stomp your foot and pout, but you realize you really should act more professional than you are. Settling for a huff at Billy, you turn to Elvis. “It was nice to meet you,” you say, all the spunkiness you had towards Billy deflating into shyness the moment you look into those dark blue eyes again.

“Oh, I have no doubt we’ll be talkin’ again soon, honey, and thank you for the lesson,” Elvis drawls softly.

His words send a cascade of shivers through your limbs. You feel heady as you stand from the bench, shooting a familial glare Billy’s way, noticing the frown on his face as you do so. God, even with you being 27, Billy had the ability to make you feel like a scolded younger sister.

You force yourself not to look back as you head to your chair. Be a professional. Just because Elvis is handsome doesn’t mean he’s not the man you’re ultimately working for. Busying yourself with rearranging your music, you hear Billy usher Elvis out and up into the booth.

Well, that’s that, you think, rosining your bow, and you get to practicing.

*

You’ve been at your share of long rehearsals, but you will admit this one is both long and intense. The music Billy has arranged—this “Guitar Man” medley of some of Elvis’ songs—isn’t difficult music to play, per say, but you can now sense an underlying importance around this entire operation. Part of it is the barely held back frantic look in Billy’s eyes, and knowing him as you do, for him to be this frazzled means there’s a lot on the line. However, it’s when Elvis comes back, much later, to run through the medley with the orchestra, that you realize you can sense it in him, too. It’s well-hidden, to be sure, when the man introduces himself and shakes hands with the members of the orchestra, and you probably wouldn’t even have noticed if it weren’t for the relaxed way he’d been with you earlier in the day, but it’s an undercurrent all the same. Then, they send him into the booth to do his thing.

And, boy, does he. You’ve worked your share of Broadway musicals and operas, but you’ve never seen a man completely give himself over to the work in just a rehearsal quite the way Elvis does with this medley. It’s like he’s singing for his life. By the time it’s all through, Elvis exits the booth, dripping with sweat, exhausted but exuberant. His eyes sparkle and his body hums, some part of him tapping or jiggling or wiggling every moment, as though the music had become electricity in his veins.

You try not to stare as you slowly put away your bow, your violin, collecting your music from the black stand. You try not to, but you keep stealing glances because not only does he look enticing, but it’s also more that you connect with the feelings he seems to be having. The way the music can just take over and become something else inside you, as if you are the conduit to something much bigger than yourself. This you understand. And you’d never imagined a sensation like Elvis Presley would feel the music that way, too. Perhaps this is the secret to his massive success.

Almost all the other musicians have packed and left by now. You tell yourself you’re stalling so you can say goodnight to Billy before hailing a cab and finally checking into your hotel by midnight. You are exhausted, after a day of traveling and frenetic rehearsal, yet you are buzzing with the excitement only music seems to bring you. And you can’t help that the part of you that feels that way is being drawn towards Elvis like a magnet.

When Elvis catches your less-than-sly stare, a million-dollar smile spreads over his face and your heart flip-flops in your chest so hard it takes your breath away. Caught, you quickly and conspicuously look up and away, as though that will save the burning embarrassment on your cheeks. Suddenly, all you can think of is how fast you can get out of here, and you finish packing up like a fire has been lit under you. You scurry towards the door, hoping to escape before making a fool of yourself further.

“Hey, Miss Moonlight,” Elvis says, fingers light on your arm, stopping you before you reach the door, “whaddya say you join us back at my place for a little get together?”

The nickname would usually make you roll your eyes, but coming from him so sweetly, you balk under the attention. It distracts you so much that it takes a full second to realize that he’s just invited you to his place.

“I…uh, it’s been a long day. I-I haven’t even checked into my hotel yet,” you stammer, the excuse so unconvincing you might laugh if you weren’t so befuddled and nervous that Elvis is asking you…well, you’re not exactly sure what he’s asking you.

He quirks a perfect raven brow at you. When he steps in closer, you can feel the heat radiating off him.

“Well, I can have Joe swing you by your hotel before headin’ over, if you’d like, though there’s plenty of space at the house. We can set up a room for ya…s’probably more comfortable than a hotel,” Elvis drawls quietly in your ear.

You’ve never heard a man make a pass so naturally in your life, so much so that you almost hesitate to believe it is one. His low voice and the open suggestiveness spear straight into your core, threatening to melt you into a puddle on the spot.

In any other circumstance, you would laugh in a man’s face for suggesting such a thing. Generally shy, reserved, and cerebral, you’re certainly not the kind of woman who just spends the night at a strange man’s place. But this isn’t any other circumstance. This is Elvis Presley asking you to stay the night with him.

And maybe he does just mean it casually—a “hey, come party with us and you can sleep on the couch”—but at the moment, your body doesn’t know the difference. Your inner pragmatist begins listing off all the ways this is a terrible idea, but the only thing that cuts through the noise is the regret you know you’ll feel if you don’t accept this invitation.

“Um…well, okay. I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose, of course,” you manage to breathe back.

His lip curves up into an almost bashful smile. “Oh, Moonlight, you couldn’t be an imposition if you tried. Plus, you hafta show me how to play the rest of that piece,” he says, running a calloused fingertip down your pointer finger.

You can’t help the shudder that runs through you or the way your heart catches in your throat. “Well, how could I possibly refuse?” you finally get out.

“Fantastic! Hey, Joe, this is my new friend, y/n,” he says enthusiastically, calling over the shorter man. “She’s gonna be joining us tonight.”

Joe seems kind enough, albeit barely looks or speaks to you after the main introductions. Before you know it, you, your violin, and your suitcase are packed into the back of what you assume is a ridiculously expensive vehicle. Elvis slides in behind you, and you, now sandwiched between him and the car door, think you ought to feel apprehensive about the situation, but all your attention is fixed on how Elvis’ side is pressed up against yours. The heat radiates off him, bleeding into you, his leg bouncing so quickly that you think he might need to get out and run laps. He makes conversation, asking about how you came to be a musician and you uncharacteristically and nervously start rambling about yourself. You’ve got to give him credit for the way he nods and hums, truly seeming to listen to you even though your mouth is running almost uncontrollably.

By the time you arrive at the house, you feel as if you’ve told Elvis your life story and you abruptly shutter your mouth closed. God, I am such an idiot. Way to play it cool, y/n, you berate yourself.

Elvis kindly helps you out of the car, walking you toward the house as Joe follows with your violin and suitcase in tow. The way your heart pounds against your ribcage threatens to do you in—it’s all suddenly become very real that Elvis Presley is leading you into his house where you are going to surreptitiously spend the night. His hand is guiding you so gently at the small of your back, but the heat of it blazes through you.

Oh, get a grip! The man has probably touched thousands of women, you’re no different. You’re not special.

Realizing you’re holding your breath, you force yourself to take in air as inconspicuously as possible.

“You don’t gotta be nervous, baby,” he says, a cheeky little smile gracing those luscious lips of his.

“Sorry, I…this just isn’t where I thought I’d be at the end of this very long day,” you chuckle.

“Well, let’s make you at home then.” His smile turns reassuring and warm.

He spends the next hour getting you comfortable and fed, having the most amazing ability to relax your normally nervous nature without hardly trying. You can’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach at the way he seems to be continuously touching you—the press of his leg, an arm around your shoulders, the graze of a finger against yours—in a familiar way, even though you’ve known him less than a day. If it were anyone else, you would have leapt off the couch and run for the hills.

What surprises you the most is that you aren’t uncomfortable at all. Excited and nervous, yes. But you don’t feel preyed upon or anything of the sort. Frankly, you are trying not to get ahead of yourself about what the rest of the night might bring.

An impromptu jam session with his old bandmates has you feeling even more surreal. If someone had told you yesterday that you would get a private concert with Elvis Presley and his former band, you would have laughed at them. You find yourself unable to take your eyes off him and how he seems to get completely lost in the music, and you right along with him. His gritty baritone combined with the sensual way he tackles each song has warmth pooling in your belly. Despite the cranked-up air conditioning, you find yourself sweating and parched, especially in the moments he smiles in your direction.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, only that you feel the heady exhaustion of being up too long coupled with an uncharacteristic hungry adrenaline running through your veins. When the jam session ends, you are both disappointed and exhilarated for what might come next.

Don’t get your hopes up, you remind yourself. This night has been amazing no matter what happens next.

“Did you enjoy that, Moonlight?” he leans over and whispers in your ear. It tickles you and sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod. “Oh, yes.” It comes out more breathless than you’d like.

You feel him smile against your cheek. “Are you up for teaching me more of that sonata, honey?” he asks. It’s an innocent enough request but you can’t tell exactly what his motivations are, though for the first time in your life, you’re not sure it matters.

“Of course,” you say quietly, starting for the piano in the corner of the living space.

His warm hand catches yours, and you look back, surprised, as he shakes his head and pulls you in the opposite direction.

Your heart threatens to beat out of your ribcage as he leads you down the hall and into what you assume is his private suite. It’s not until he closes the door and you realize that you are utterly alone with him that you feel a glimmer of trepidation.

It must read on your face because he jumps in to reassure you. “Oh, honey, I just want to get to know you better, away from the rest of them. I’d never hurt you or make you do anything you didn’t want to do. Honestly, I don’t want the other guys ribbing me…they don’t go for the classical stuff,” he says quietly, looking away, and you think there might be a little pink rising on his cheeks.

His sincerity is palpable, and you certainly never expected him to be bashful about playing classical music. There’s a softness to him now, almost a shyness, that wasn’t present moments ago around all his entourage. It is like a yearning for one-on-one connection, and this part of him melts all your reservations and tugs at your heartstrings.

“Well, I do…go for the classical stuff, I mean,” you say quietly. You smile and squeeze his hand reassuringly as his deep blue eyes find yours again.

He looks giddy as he leads you to the second piano in the house, a baby grand in the far corner of the large suite. You sit down, opening the lid, and he slides in beside you. The heat of him rolls around you, the smell of his cologne and a day’s worth of sweat combining into an alluring combination that perks up your senses.

“Show me what you remember,” you say, and he starts to play, long, nimble fingers gliding gracefully over the keys. It amazes you that he committed everything you showed him earlier to memory so fast and so accurately. Something about it tightens a coil low in your belly. Unsure whether it’s your attraction to him physically or musically that has you so aroused, you swallow hard as he finishes abruptly.

You shake it off as best you can as you show him more of the movement, hoping the music might quell the buzzing in your veins. You go through it a few times, getting a little lost in the notes, as you tend to do. It only serves to stoke the fire in you when he picks up what you’ve shown him so quickly.

He finishes a phrase, and you move to show him the next, but his hand suddenly covers yours. Surprised, you look over at him to find his oceanic eyes searching your face so intimately that warmth blooms across your chest and your breath catches in the silence.

Slowly, Elvis leans over, cups your cheek gently, and kisses you. It’s almost chaste the way his incredibly soft lips press into yours and your surprise is so great that by the time you register what is happening, he is already pulling away.

His eyes open slowly, those lashes fluttering along with the fluttering in your heart and belly. Shock has you outwardly frozen but it’s as if he lit every one of your nerve endings on fire with the touch of his lips.

He must register your surprise as hesitance because his gaze changes to something akin to apologetic.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare ya. I shouldn’t’ve—”

Before he can get the rest of that sentence out, your body miraculously obeys you and you unfreeze. Boldly cupping his jaw with both hands, you pull him back to you and plant your lips on his.

It surprises both of you, and it’s a second before either of you relaxes into the kiss. This permission is all it takes, however, and then his mouth is languidly searching yours and his arms are wrapping around you to pull you close. Soft, short kisses alternate with longer more passionate ones, and you feel utterly spellbound by him, every inch of your body aware and alert to his.

Never in your life have you been kissed so well or so thoroughly. It’s as if the music in his soul must find a physical outlet, and the way he explores and opens you up to him is like him playing a new instrument. When his tongue rolls softly against your lower lip, you can’t suppress the low moan that comes out of you, causing you to open your mouth. He accepts the invitation readily, expertly, and the wet plushness of his tongue slowly begins exploring.

The warmth that sparkles and blooms across your chest travels lower still, sparking fires as it goes, until you feel your pulse throbbing between your legs. It’s nearly unbearable the way he stokes you without hardly trying. You’ve never felt so aroused so quickly or so completely.

Your eagerness is impossible to contain, your fingers buried in that luxuriously soft hair at the base of his neck, your body rolling towards his of its own accord, as if magnetized. You follow his rhythm, meeting his music with your own.

When he pulls back to trail kisses down your jaw, you are left breathless and clutching the lapels of his half-unbuttoned shirt. The nuzzle of his nose on your cheek as he finds and licks the tender spot behind your ear leaves you gasping. Pleased, he does it again and your entire body shudders.

Every inch of you yearns to be consumed by him. It’s never felt like this, not with any man you’ve been with. Those were fumbling amateurs playing one handed melodies in comparison to the symphony Elvis is invoking. While he is leading and in control, you sense as much eagerness from him as there is in you. It’s reassuring and flattering all at once.

There is an embarrassing amount of slick between your legs already, soaking the cotton of your panties and leaving you clenching your thighs together in search of friction. He must notice this as he kisses down your throat and across your décolletage because then he’s looking up at you for permission with those pink, swollen lips and dreamy bedroom eyes.

It’s unspoken, but you nod and he continues his sweet journey, one hand deftly unzipping the back of your dress while his lips follow gravity as it slips down your arms and reveals your chest. Pushing the fabric off and to your waist, his hand is then hot against your bare stomach. He hums in approval when his mouth finds the swell of your breasts that spill from your simple, beige bra.

A low whine escapes you. His apt response is to thumb your nipple to attention through the thin satin before lapping at the bud with his tongue. The result is a jolt of electricity shooting straight into your core, sending you clutching his neck and writhing against him. Expertly, he undoes the clasp in the back and abandons your bra to the floor in what must be a well-practiced motion based on the speed of it.

Goosebumps rise across your now fully exposed flesh, both from the cool air in the room and the way his fingers brush so lightly over your breasts. He seems pleased with the way your nipples stand at attention under his heated gaze. You don’t have the wherewithal to feel your usual self-consciousness; instead, the sight of his pupils blown black with arousal has you shivering with nothing but anticipation.

The combination of the way his tongue darts between his lips as he lightly pinches the hardened buds has you begging for more. “Please,” you moan and that’s all it takes before he’s lathing his tongue over and around the sensitive nubs, palming the fullness of your breasts. You can hardly stand it, how everything he does makes your body sing and want to scream his praises.

A quizzical look crosses your features though when he stops his ministrations and slides to his knees on the carpet on his side of the bench. For a second you are worried something you’ve done something to hurt or displease him, but when he beckons you towards him at the end of the bench with such arousal in his eyes it nearly knocks you over, you obey without a thought.

Elvis scoots you forward and kisses your belly, sending a new wave of tingles over you. He removes one of your low-heeled pumps and then the other, ghosting kisses along your ankles before running his large hands up the smoothness of your pantyhose, pushing your dress up with them. As if under a spell, you can’t help the way your legs fall open for him when his thumbs drag up the insides of your thighs. The little coy smirk that graces that beautiful face when he feels the damp that has soaked through to the gusset of your hose has your cheeks flushing and your lips parting.

You can’t bring yourself to be too embarrassed at how wet you are because the pleased look on his face at the discovery makes you feel like you’ve won the lottery. He pulls on the waistband, forcing you to lift your hips, before gently rolling the hose down your legs until they are off and discarded on the floor.

What you don’t expect is how he begins peppering soft kisses up your now bare calves, at the inside of your knees, and then up your inner thighs.

A swell of panic hits the farther up he goes, and you jerk up, unsure of what exactly he’s meaning to do. The men you’d been with in the past had been rather direct about the whole thing—once the clothes were off, they buried their pecker inside you and thrust above you, all with varying levels of success in getting you off as they did so.

But not a single one had kissed up your thighs and spread them open with a hungry and expectant look like the one Elvis had now.

Looking down at him, confused, you ask, “What are you doing?” in a voice that is a little too apprehensive for your liking, but you need to know.

He cocks his head at you a moment, as if trying to determine your level of seriousness. Then his eyes shine with understanding and in that low, Southern drawl of his says the downright naughtiest thing you’ve ever had a man say to you: “You ain’t never had a man take good care of your kitty before, have ya? Give her all the love and attention she deserves?” He runs a fingertip lightly over the wet cotton at your center and you shiver.

He can’t possibly mean what you think he means.

You must be gaping because he rises on his knees and catches your lips with his own before breathing, “Close that pretty mouth baby or you’re liable to catch flies up in there.”

You are speechless, unable to form words, but the question is written all over your face.

He leans back on his knees with a contemplative smile. “That sweet little kitty of yours ain’t never been eaten, has she, baby?”

Oh my god.

It’s all you can do to bite back a moan and shake your head at him.

He looks positively gleeful about this development, his shining eyes taking on a whole new level of arousal. Then he seems to notice your trepidation and reigns himself in.

“That okay with you, baby?” he asks.

You had never even considered it an option before, or that a man might like to do such a thing. Maybe he’s teasing you? Suddenly you feel very conscious of the mechanics of the act and breathlessly mumble, “You don’t…you’re sure?”

“Oh, I am.” The smile of anticipation on his face seems to echo the sentiment.

The enticing thought of that beautiful mouth of his being down there on you outweighs your uncertainty and prudishness. You nod your head. “O-Okay.”

You’ve never seen a man look so thrilled at the thought of being between your legs as Elvis Presley is. “Don’tcha worry, I’m gonna take real good care of ya,” he says comfortingly. “You just lie back and relax and let me make you feel good, honey.” Then he places a kiss just under the waistband of your panties and you let out a little sigh.

The piano bench feels slightly warm on you bare back as you lay down. Elvis, grabbing under your thighs, pulls you to the edge, and your heart resumes its pounding. You truly can’t believe any of this is about to happen and steel yourself for him to rip off your underwear and go to town.

But he doesn’t.

No, he takes his time warming you up, as if he’s trying to get you used to the idea. He kisses down one hip then trails down the panty line. You tense the closer he gets to your core but then he only ghosts a breath over it before jumping to the other leg and kisses up the crease on that side. The ticklish sensation is almost too much to bear as he works his way up to the waistband again.

You are panting by the time his mouth is grazing from your belly button downwards, pressing into the soft curls beneath the fabric. He stops just short of that forbidden little spot where your aching clit resides, and you push up on your elbows to shoot him a look.

A grin spreads over his features, his eyes narrowed like a crocodile’s and full of desire and he watches you intently as he finally places a light kiss over that sensitive little button.

The sensation is nothing like anything you’ve felt before and the whole scene has your body flaming white hot. You don’t recognize the low mewl that erupts from your lips and the only thing keeping you from throwing your head back is the way his eyes are locked on yours, as if feeding off your reaction. Then he uses his perfect nose to nuzzle into it before placing a firmer kiss there.

“Elvissss,” you whine, unable to keep from throwing your head back this time.

“You like that, baby? I barely even started,” he speaks, his hot breath puffing over the slicked core of your panties. He kisses down, down until over your entrance, where he then tongues the fabric, pressing it up and into you.

“Honey, you’ve done soaked right through,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure if he’s speaking to you or directly to your pussy. You’re not sure you care for the way you moan, the way your body shudders and writhes, suddenly starving for anything he’s willing to give.

“Lemme see how pretty she is,” he says, and God, if his filthy yet somehow sweet words aren’t stroking you in such a way that you wonder if you could come from his lilting voice alone. He pulls your underwear to the side, finally baring yourself to him, and he whistles.

“Just lovely, and all weepy for me, too,” he says, voice thick with lust now.

The anticipation has your heart racing and your fingers clawing at the wooden bench with a whimper.

“Okay, baby, I hear ya,” he murmurs kindly, then hooks his fingers in the sides of your panties and finally slides them down and off your legs. Then his hands are pushing them apart and his tongue is lightly skimming up your folds.

You gasp at the soft and silky feeling, unready even despite his preparations. When he circles your clit and then kisses it, bare this time, you are so aroused you’re afraid you might weep. But the teasing is done, and he tests you expertly. His tongue flattens and takes in the full breadth of you, licking a stripe up your pussy that sends your hips rolling.

He seems to gauge every reaction carefully, giving equal and alternating attention to every piece of you. Nipping, suckling, and kissing your swollen clit into submission and just when you think that heated coil in your belly might snap you in two, he moves down and kisses through your folds. When he laps at the arousal dripping from your tight little hole, tongues it, and then plunges it inside of you, you find yourself screaming out his name.

You can feel him smile and hum at your response, the vibrations adding entirely new sensations to the slew of new sensations you are feeling. He thumbs at your clit as he laps at your hole, and you think you might hyperventilate with how fast you’re breathing and how hot you feel.

So completely attuned to you, he pulls back and gives you a break, despite your whimpering protests. His full lips are swollen pink and slick down to his chin with you, and when his lip curls up into a knowing but almost bashful smile, you think this might be the eighth wonder of the world.

“You alright? I’m doin’ okay?” he asks, his left eyebrow quirking.

You giggle, almost drunkenly even though you’re entirely sober, because the question is so absurd but sweet of him. “Yes, yes, yes,” you say, words slurring.

“Okay, good,” he says, nodding. Then he rises on up on his knees and commands you forward with a come-hither motion so deft and quick, it has you drooling.

You are powerless to resist and push your dazed self to your elbows on the bench. He meets you halfway, kissing you deeply, lewdly letting you taste the tang of yourself on his lips. Distracted as you are by his wandering mouth, you aren’t ready for the way he slides two of those perfectly long musician’s fingers up through your silky folds and deep into your wet heat.

A shocked gasp quickly turns into a moan that he swallows with another kiss. He begins ever-so-slowly pumping those fingers into you and the rough pad of his thumb circles that sensitive bundle of nerves at the hood of your sex.

“Goddamn, you’re so perfect, so tight,” he breathes into your mouth.

You can’t stop the shiver that ripples through you. “I-It’s been a-awhile,” you pant. You can’t help but look down and watch the way he works you.

“Don’t you worry, baby. I gotchu,” he purrs, then curves his fingers just so and the pleasure that courses through you has you crying out.

Your brain is fuzzy, with only one thing on its mind. Luckily, Elvis seems to be reading it because he smiles that coy smile and returns those full lips of his to your clit.

For a moment you think you might die from the intensity of the sensations he’s procuring from you. Seems an awful lot like God gave him long fingers and a full mouth not only for music, you think. Though the way he’s playing you right now and the noises he’s coaxing out of you makes it seem like a whole different type of song he’s expert at.

The way he traces and flicks and suckles your clit, coupled with the obscene sounds coming from the way he’s fingering your pussy has you writhing on the bench and gripping his beautiful hair in your hands.

More, more, more, is the only thought left.

He hums against you with one last kiss and a wildly accurate thrust and curve of his fingers. The coil inside you explodes, then white-hot, full-body shudders violently overtake you as you silently scream and hold onto him for dear life as to not fly away into the stratosphere.

Your orgasm is utterly mind altering and earth shattering.

“Good job, lil’ girl,” Elvis coos, soothing you through the aftershocks with a lathing tongue.

You can’t think straight enough to respond, only whimpering from the empty feeling when he removes his fingers, then gasping again when he laps at the arousal pouring out of your core.

It’s all too much, and, overstimulated, you whine and clench and pull at him.

He sits up again, between your legs, looking mighty pleased with himself. “Come ‘ere, darlin’,” he says, pulling you up by your arms and sliding you onto his lap. Boneless and naked (save for the dress bunched in a ring around your waist), your legs fall open, easily straddling his hips. Your hands grip at his shirt and you bury your head into his neck, still dizzy with release.

He holds you steady. “Didja like that? Your kitty all happy and purrin’ now?” he whispers in your ear, sending a new set of shivers down your spine. All you can manage is a pleased hum and a nod. You kiss his neck, tasting salt on his tanned skin.

A soft moan escapes his lips at that. Suddenly, you become quite aware of the hardness in his slacks, pressing up near your swollen folds. The embers of your arousal have not died, and you kiss his neck again while slowly rolling your hips into his.

Groaning, he tightens his arms around you, holding you to him. You nip at the throbbing pulse point on his neck and are reminded just how talented and famous these hips of his are when he rolls them back into you in response. He’s rock hard, straining against his zipper, the tip of him bumping against your sensitive clit. You moan and find his rhythm, feeling the wetness between your thighs start to soak through the fabric of his slacks, creating a delicious friction.

Elvis pants heavily in your ear, murmuring curses and praises as he grinds into you. At this rate, you think he might come in his pants, which just won’t do. Not with the way your pussy is buzzing, and that coil is tightening again in your belly. No, you need him inside you. You need him to fill you.

You use what little returning strength you have and rise on your knees, away from his needy cock. The man actually pouts, his lower lip jutting out with a desperate little whine and it is so alluring you almost forget what you’re trying to do. You place a finger over his lips to quiet him, then set to the task of trying to undo his lavish belt and zipper.

Once he understands, he races to help, making much quicker work of the whole thing and finally his cock springs free. It’s quite long, and the deep pink tip peeking out of his silky foreskin is already shiny and weeping with precum. Of its own accord, your finger slides over his slit, circling the slick tip and spreading the wetness gathered there. He hisses. You bring your finger to your mouth, tasting the salty musk of him.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, his hand palming his length. He gives it a pointed tug, then another, his lips falling open as he watches you.

He’s gorgeous in every way and it’s almost intimidating the way he looks at you with such open and vulnerable lust. You can’t bring yourself hold back or tease any longer, needing desperately to give him all of you, to give him what he needs. Hovering over him, you help line him up, then slowly descend onto his cock.

You are plenty wet—he’s seen to that—but even still, the stretch of him burns. It’s been too long since a man has been inside you like this and he is much longer than you anticipated.

A quiet, “Oh, oh, oh,” is all you manage to puff out as you bob slightly up and down, taking a little bit more of him with each tiny pump. He presses gentle kisses everywhere he can reach and murmurs encouraging praises with each inch that you conquer.

By the time you settle on the hilt of him, snug in his lap, you’re both groaning. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders because you are so full of him you don’t know what to do. You’ve never been so gorged and the pressure is a little frightening.

“Snug as a bug in a rug,” he slurs happily, letting you adjust around him. “Little Elvis likes you lots and lots, baby. S’like you were made just for him.”

“Little Elvis? H-He’s not so little,” you say with wide eyes, then giggle a little, which causes you to gasp from the tightness below and how it makes you clench even harder around him.

He groans. “If ya keep doing that, he’s not gonna last very long, darlin’.”

You try to move, but in this position and after that orgasm, you feel weak and a little like he’s spearing you in two. You’re almost too full, and the angle is not quite right. You wiggle in his lap, your brow furrowed, as your arms grow tighter around his neck. A low whine escapes your throat.

He notices your distress. Petting your hair, he babytalks at you, which under other circumstances might be strange for a grown man, but it comes so naturally to him somehow it both comforts and arouses you, “Oh, shh, shh, baby, s’okay. He’s a widdle much for ya, ain’t he? Sometimes he gets too ‘cited and gets ahead of ‘imself. But he’s gonna take real good care of ya, I promise.”

And with that, he gingerly shifts sideways, leans forward, and lays you down on the plush carpet under the piano. The movement has him sliding partially out of you, giving you some relief from the bursting sensation, and you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. Your body relaxes.

He looks so gorgeous above you, with his raven hair falling in his eyes and a soft, bashful smile gracing his lips. You can’t help but smile back at him.

“That better?” he asks.

You nod.

Leaning down, he nuzzles your nose, then places soft kisses on your mouth. He coaxes you back to him, the heat building between you with each deepening kiss. So focused on the rolling of his tongue against yours, you don’t even realize he’s pressing deeper into you until he’s nestled almost completely, but much more comfortably between your legs.

You sigh contentedly into his mouth. The pressure still has you feeling full, but in a delicious, silky way this time as you finally relax around him. He rolls his hips smoothly, the strokes slow and deliberate, in time with the movement of his lips. Each stroke is better than the last as your increased arousal combined with his own slickens your inner walls.

“There she is,” he moans quietly into the crook of your neck.

That feeling is back, a chant of want, want, want running through your brain as the tension and fire in your belly begin to grow once more. When he bottoms out this time, your punctuated, “Ah!” is from pleasure and not discomfort. He’s managing to hit places inside you that you didn’t know existed.

You writhe under him, starting to meet his thrusts with your own, trying as you might to find that perfect spot he keeps slipping past. If only you had the right leverage…

It comes to you once you’ve hitched your legs up around his svelte waist. You lift your hips and plant your bare feet against the grainy wooden underside of the piano, meeting his next thrust with your leveraged one. It sends him deeper, driving into that little spot just perfectly. You keen.

“Oh, goddamn,” he moans along with you.

Each thrust seems deeper than the last with your legs pressing up like this. They shake from the exertion, but it’s worth every ounce of effort for the way you feel driven into the earth by his cock. Sweat drips off his face and onto yours as he showers your body with pleasure you didn’t know existed.

He thumbs your clit, timed perfectly with the piston of his hips, and you can barely breathe at the sensation. Gasping, your entire body shudders of its own accord as you hurtle towards another release.

“I…I…I…” is all you can seem to manage as your second climax starts to crest, and he grunts with effort above you, his eyes glassy with unbridled desire.

He mutters a string sweet filth that only fuels you forward, slurring and panting, “Oh, fuck, yes…such a good yittle kitty…good girl for me…look atchu taking ‘im so deep…never been s’deep…Jesus, I can see ‘im in your belly.”

You both look at the swell of your abdomen on the next thrust and this time he holds you flush against him so you can see the tip of Little Elvis bulge out the slightest bit. The moan you let out is obscene. Holding you at the waist, he doesn’t let your hips down, instead running the palm of his hand over the protrusion while he flicks your clit furiously. Then he presses down at the same time he thrusts as hard and as deep as possible.

Your climax hits so hard and so fast that it knocks the breath out of you, leaving you gasping his name, “Elvis, Elvis, Elvis!” Flaming white stars flash behind your eyelids as you flutter and clench around his length. Molten fire spreads from your core outward. You shudder and claw at him, at the bottom of the piano, at anything that will keep you tethered to reality while the rest of you shatters into a million pieces beneath him.

“Good girl, s’good fo’me,” he praises you through it, losing himself to you as you come apart.

You feel his hips start to stutter into you again because a primal need has him beyond the point of waiting any longer. Somehow, through shivering aftershocks, you have the wherewithal to force your eyes open, even as the rest of your body goes slack. He looks like Adonis in the throes of passion, his full and swollen lips falling open. In one fell swoop, he drops your hips and pulls his considerable length from you, his knowing hand pumping his slick-covered cock with expert precision.

Watching him come is a marvel and you make yourself commit this moment to memory, knowing it will fuel your arousal for years to come. He tenses above you, those sapphire eyes fluttering closed. Shivering tension ripples over him with a choked cry and through gritted teeth. Thick and warm white ropes erupt and splatter over your torso and you moan along with him. Then his eyes pop open pointedly as he watches himself cover you with his seed. The poignant, dramatic end of a brilliant symphony.

“F-fuck,” he pants, finishing off with another shiver. Exhausted, he catches himself just before crushing you with his weight, instead pressing his sweaty brow into yours. Your hot, heavy breaths mingle as you both try to come back down to Earth. He nuzzles his nose into yours before kissing your cheeks and your mouth.

Eventually, you find your words. “That was…incredible,” you say breathlessly, with no exaggeration.

He pulls back to look at you, with a goofy, pleased grin. “I told you I’d take care of you, Moonlight. And boy oh boy, was that a neat trick with the piano there…that part of your classical trainin’?” he says, blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Putting that college degree to good use,” you say with a giggle.

His eyes go wide and then he laughs—a musical, beautiful, contagious sound—which fills your heart up in a way you don’t quite understand.

He crawls back and helps you out from under the piano. Your back is rubbed raw from the carpet, which he kisses gently with apology, but you barely feel the sting. You are too dazed and relaxed to worry about much of anything.

When he helps clean you up and pulls you into his big bed, slotting you in next to him, you want to savor every minute. How he smells delicious and masculine, how the heat of his long body envelops your own—you want to remember everything.

Exhausted, you fall fast asleep, sated and cared for, knowing that you’ll never, ever be the same.

*

taglist

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#paisley dreams #paisley dreams part 1 #elvis presley #elvis #elvis x oc #elvis x peppercorn #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis x reader #🏵💛🔥 #elvis smut #elvis 1970 #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presely smut #sugar mama request #madisyn may #missmaywemeetagain #las vegas #showgirl

[andiwriteordie]

so today on my lunch break, i was watching this interview with carmen cuba, the casting director of stranger things, who literally has my whole entire heart because this show is casted wonderfully, please give her all the awards

but she started talking about robert englund’s audition process for victor creel and said some interesting things about the duffers and the way they go about auditions:

(at about 9:45) “...The Duffers really figure out a lot about the characters through auditions. ... Then they watch a lot more than a lot of directors and creators do, because they learn about the character through people’s auditions, which is an amazing process for me and really fun.”

and all of this got me thinking. if the duffers are watching the audition process this carefully and even in the audition process letting their actors so deeply shape and inform who these characters are, then how much more are they listening and watching the actors they’ve already hired? 

i mean, the best example is, of course, joe keery. steve was meant to be the stereotypical asshole jock killed off after s1, but joe brought his charisma and lovable nature to the character. and the duffers saw that, adapted to it, and made steve into one of the most beloved characters on the show! 

same with joe quinn, right? we know eddie was meant to be harsher, more of a rival to steve, less likable, etc. but joe brought his own take to eddie and made him incredibly sympathetic, lovable, and all around liked by most people who have watched s4.

i say all of this to say... i think about finn wolfhard, who (at least among the “kids” though they’re not really kids anymore) has the most experience and exposure to other things outside of stranger things. finn knows his shit. he’s incredibly intelligent and understands storytelling and media, and it clearly informs the way he plays his characters, including mike! i mean, for crying out loud, the kid is like what? 20? and already directing his first feature film? finn has a knack for media. 

so you’re going to tell me that finn—who began this show as the primary child protagonist—would just... allow his character to become nothing more than a love interest without any underlying nuance to him? yeah no, that doesn’t seem right to me. 

after playing mike for so many years and also being given two seasons to play in the sandbox and get to dive into the character growth and development of mike, finn doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who would be satisfied if mike was essentially relegated to a dumb teenage love interest for el in seasons 3-5. 

maybe if that’s who mike had always been, i could believe it. but the mike wheeler who spent a whole week searching in the woods for his best friend? who jumped off a cliff to protect one of his best friends? who gave that fucking beautiful and so genuine speech in the shed because he was scared of losing his best friend? 

yeah no, i just don’t feel like finn would be satisfied with mike really having 0 growth or sense of direction to his character... unless he knew that there was more to mike’s change in behavior.

and if the duffers are clearly listening and communicating with their actors to allow them to help shape their characters... then idk. sounds like byler endgame to me 🤷🏻‍♀️

#byler #thinking thoughts tonight #duffers don't disappoint me challenge

[birdieart]

some sarah rogers thoughts

(tw: eugenics, ableism)

mcu sarah would have given birth alone, likely very young (in her late teens), newly widowed, and in a foreign country. if she had a hospital birth, she would have only had the midwives, since joseph was gone by then

steve was probably very sickly early on (colic, cradle cap, eczema, fever, etc) and that would have worried her, especially if he was a small baby (very likely)

when it became clear steve was chronically ill (probably around 6-7, if the asthma, heart problems, vision and hearing issues, possible allergies, scoliosis, and anemia showed by then), sarah would have probably been taken aside and told she should give steve up to a sanitorium (a common practice with disabled children), where he would eventually be quietly euthanised, as was common in those hellholes

obviously, she didn't do that, and instead decided to work TWO JOBS during the DEPRESSION to make sure they had a roof over their heads, food on the table, and medicine and doctors visits for steve, not to mention things like books, schooling, art materials, etc she would have saved up to buy for him to make him happy, and later herself, since steve remembers his art making her smile, which is why he kept at it when he was a kid

she probably worried about him being bullied, and didn't realise her own stubbornness and fighting spirit had been passed onto him until she came to pick a 9 year old steve up from school after he got into a fist fight with a much older boy and steve told her he got into a fight because the boy was being mean to a girl and no one else was telling him to back off

(she couldn't decide if she was proud or exasperated. a bit of both. she bought steve a soda on the way home after deciding she was mostly proud of her baby being so brave)

when steve dragged bucky into the rogers apartment by the sleeve for the first time, sarah was convinced bucky was an angel sent to watch over her boy. he was so sweet, polite, and such a sensitive, kind child, with an adorable smile and a head of dark curls.

bucky ended up being less of an angel, but still someone who loved steve enough to try to protect him, even if he cried when he got hit and wasn't quite the fighter steve was. but they were good for each other. the barnes and rogers families ended up being very close, sarah and winnifred trading the boys off for sleepovers every other weekend

sarah, watching steve reach his teenage years, scrappy and hot headed, opinionated, and stubborn as all hell, realising that his life is always going to be hard because people will always look at him like he's not enough despite how fiercely he burns with his love for his family and his need to protect people like him when no one else will

steve was 14 when he got surgery for his scoliosis, and sarah waited in the hospital hallway for hours, not knowing if this new form of treatment would work or if it would kill steve in the end. refusing to leave his bedside when he came out of surgery and reading his old favourite books to him, telling bucky to stay quiet when he visited and steve was asleep.

she missed joseph, a lot. they'd come to america together, so young and unsure, but she knew he's be proud of his little scrapper - steve looked a lot like him, had the same angular features and crooked nose. as steve got older, she realised just how much he looked like joe, and sometimes it made her tear up because in some angles, it was like looking at a ghost. but when he smiled, it was all him, a little crooked, but still handsome and a little devilish.

at 17, once all the hormones had calmed down, steve stopped taking the bait for every fight and sarah had to patch up less bloodied knuckles, less cut lips, less sprained joints. but that fight was still there, simmering under the surface. steve was quiet, but had a few friends - bucky and arnie, both good kids, both of them boys she could trust with him.

(sometimes, she saw how bucky looked at steve when he didn't realise anyone was looking - the utter love and devotion in those big, sad eyes made sarahs heart clench, knowing it wouldn't be easy if it was what she suspected it was. but bucky loved steve and she was grateful for that, because that meant someone else in this world was just as affected by steve in their life as she was, even if in a different way)

when sarah got sick, she knew she wouldn't shake it. she had lived long enough to see steve graduate from high school and get into auburndale art school, following bucky who went a year earlier for their music program, and she was proud of her boy, and regretted nothing except that she wouldn't be there for the other things she imagined for him - starting a career, enjoying his adult life with his friends, maybe getting married and having a family of his own, if he wanted that (part of her thought he didn't - he wasn't the most social, and he kept to his own people, the people he chose. he was sort of like a cat in that regard, even as a teenager)

sarah rogers died, maybe not knowing the specifics of what steve would become, but knowing in her bones that he was going to great things.

she would be so, so proud of him if she saw what he became - a soldier like his father, a fighter like her, and something altogether his own, against all odds

#birdie speaks #this got away from me #but i have so many feelings about what sarah went through #i personally think they spoke gaelic at home and steve got into trouble for it at school #but obviously he didnt give a shit and kept at it #even after sarah died #lived in a very irish apartment block maybe? spoke to some of sarahs old friends in gaelic to keep in practice #but she loved hIM SO MUCH AND IT MAKES ME MAD THE MCU ONLY MENTIONED HER /TWICE/ #heinous if you ask me #sarah rogers #sarah rogers meta #mcu meta #marvel

[paperstorm]

10 random lines

I am LATE but I was tagged by @cinnaluminum @reyesstrand and @rmd-writes

Rules: pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the midpoint, pick a line (or three), and share it! Then tag 10 people.

He tastes like mint. Must’ve chewed some gum or a Tic-Tac before coming over to ask TK to dance, and TK resolutely sets that information down and doesn’t pick it up again because if he has to think about there being intention in the way this man approached him, he might have to stop kissing him. Back to the habit after kicking it (911 Lone Star)

“Dude, I was born in Manhattan,” TK defends. “Lived there my whole life until three months ago. Nobody I grew up with knows how to drive, having a car on the island makes no sense unless you’re super rich or have some kind of kink for sitting in traffic for an hour to go 10 blocks.” Life's a game of inches (911 Lone Star)

Merlin seeks Arthur’s lips for a messy kiss, tilting his hips to change the angle and pushing Arthur inside just a bit deeper, rubbing, sending resplendent waves of pleasure through him. He wants so badly – aches, really – to be everything Arthur could ever need so Arthur never has to look anywhere else. Golden Hour (Merlin)

“I couldn’t remember every kiss, not 800 years of them, but I remember that one,” Joe continues, in a dreamy voice. He is more emotional than Nicky. Quicker to anger, and indignance, and ferociously protective of those he loves. His fire burns quick and hot, and when it melts into languid moments such as this, where he’s introspective and soft-hearted, it’s Nicky who aches to protect him. Nothing But a Song (The Old Guard)

Nile surprises them with her poker skills, in the evening when Joe breaks out a pack of cards and they sit around the table with an old radio on in the background. The nights were long and boring, sometimes, when she was stationed overseas, and she took a considerable amount of money off all her commanding officers in the months she was there. It’s that baby face, one of them had complained, you never think it’s lying to you until it is. Hands Battered but Hearts Survive (The Old Guard)

They struggle to pay the bills and sometimes they run out of hot water before both of them have had a chance to shower and they have to hide their love away to keep it safe from people who would want to hurt them if they knew, but despite all that, they’re happy. It aches and it aches and it aches in Bucky’s chest to think of how much he took it for granted, how many times he should have told Steve he loved him but didn’t, how likely it is that they’ll never have that again. Bucky’s not as simple as he’s been pretending. He doesn’t believe the advertisements, the campaigns that promise they’ll be gone six months and home as heroes by Christmas. That’s what they said last time, and millions never came home. Parallel Sinking Ships (MCU)

Steve sways a little on his feet as Bucky works, and Bucky sees the crash coming. Steve must have been running on sheer adrenaline since the end of their latest mission, perhaps spurred on by grief over the people he hadn’t been able to save this time and anger at himself for his perceived failings. He’d managed to get himself to Wakanda and to Bucky on nothing but leftover fumes, and they’re very quickly running out. Through the Monsoon (MCU)

“Do you want to know the moment I hated myself the most, in all this?” Nick asks. Pieces of himself, he figures. He knows better than anyone how tough it is to be so see-through. To know that despite all his best efforts, he’s utterly transparent. Maybe he can be transparent on purpose; maybe that will make Charlie feel safer in the notion of confessing. All Of These Moving Parts (Heartstopper)

Sitting here, holding TK’s arm in his hand, he feels like he can sense TK slipping away right here in front of him, filtering through his fingers like sand. No matter how he tries, Carlos can’t seem to grasp him tight enough to keep him. And maybe that’s always been the problem. Maybe he’s never known how to do that. Collateral damage (911 Lone Star)

“If we’re playing around, if we’re having fun and you want me to be a little rough that’s fine. I love that, too. Not when you’re this upset. I can’t …” He runs out of ways to explain the way that makes him feel, to imagine being rough with TK while he’s crying and using the mix of pleasure and pain to distract himself from his grief. Of him associating Carlos with hurt in a moment like this, of him believing he doesn’t deserve to be treated gently, maybe because someone died while TK was there and in the dark recesses of his mind he thinks he should be punished for that. Silent (911 Lone Star)

I'm not sure who's done this already but I will tag @musette22 @riricitaa @bubblesandroses8 @chaotictarlos @theghostofashton and @tailoredshirt

#tag meme #fancition #paperstorm writes #who me having written fic for like 15 different fandoms more likely than you'd think

[seidenbros]

Hi I was just wondering if I could request a one shot of a 18 year old named Jamie the sister of Joe Keery who also plays Chloe Harrington Steve’s sister and during the Billy and Steve fight scene from S2 Jamie is holding the kids back while everyone is screaming their lines she gets hit with this overwhelming feeling of dizziness & nausea from exhaustion of filming all day. She quickly shakily grabs onto something to keep her balance & grabs the attention of the crew the duffers yell cut & walk up asking if she’s ok while Dacre & Joe stand beside her. When she says she feels faint & stumbles both boys careful grab her & lead her to a couch on set the duffers call medics to check her over as Joe tries to keep her talking & alert not to faint as well as the duffers doing the same but very little leading to Joe taking care of her the rest of the day.

If you can’t I completely understand have a great day

Hello, love! Thank you for sending this in, this was such a sweet picture sou painted with that in my head, and while I'm not one for real life ships, THIS is some platonic friendship and siblings, so I tried my hands at it and hope this came out alright. I really enjoy writing sibling relationships as it seems (and mix in a little good friend Dacre here). So, I hope you enjoy this little piece 💚

Requests are open | prompt lists for inspiration | Stranger Things Masterlist

Pairing: NONE, but big brother Joe, platonic friend Dacre Word count: 2387 Warning/Tags: mentions over undereating, but no eating disorder, nausea, dizziness, fake blood (let me know if I missed anything

---

Working on a show like Stranger Things had been a completely new experience for Jamie, especially because she was playing alongside her brother Joe. In the show, they were playing siblings, just like in real life, so the friendly banter that happened on screen was something they were doing from experience. There had always been little fights as well, but in the end, they had a wonderful relationship, could always count on each other. Something the Duffer brothers had picked up on and had allowed them to show on screen as well. Where there was Joe, there was Jamie as well most of the time.

So, it was no wonder that she appeared in the fight scene between him and Dacre as well, taking over the job to keep an eye out for the kids. It had been a long day already, starting at four in the morning, but they wanted to finish filming that scene before they wrapped up for the day. Jamie felt the exhaustion in her bones, not having slept at all last night, hence being awake for way too long already without taking a break. She’d skipped lunch, because she hadn’t felt hungry, but by now, she was feeling how much that was wearing her down. It was just one more scene, she told herself, she could do that.

They got on their marks, Jamie among the kids waiting for Dacre to come through the door to start the scene. She swallowed hard, bit back the nausea that was threatening to pull her under, but she could do it. It wasn’t the first time, she was exhausted at work and was able to pull through, right?

Action!

Dacre barged in and delivered his lines before he went at Caleb. Jamie did her part and held the other ones back, trying to protect them from Billy, and Lucas was able to fend him off. Enter Steve, her brother who took up the role of protector in this scene once again. He landed his first punch, giving Caleb the opportunity to get back to the others and behind Jamie.

“I’ve been waiting to meet this King Steve everybody’s been telling me so much about,” Dacre spewed his words at Joe, channelling Billy perfectly. If Jamie hadn’t known that they were filming, she’d definitely be scared of him, but she knew what a sweet soul Dacre was.

“Get out!” Just like they’d talked about, Joe spoke his words before Dacre swung at him. While they were fighting, crashing plates in the process, Jamie held her hands in front of the kids, keeping them back, hearing them yell their lines, when all of a sudden their voices sounded dull, like they were getting further and further away from her. She closed her eyes to shake off that feeling, but when she opened them again, the whole room started to spin, making her feel nauseous. Her knees felt weak, and she grabbed hold of the cupboard next to her to not crumble to the floor. Oh, this was bad, really bad.

Gaten’s eyes were on her, checking if she was alright, if this was part of the scene, something he’d missed out on or something they’d added without the rest of them not knowing. When Joe catches a glimpse of her, though, he doesn’t waste a second to get to his sister. The crew eventually realised what was going on.

“Cut!” could be heard throughout the set and everything stilled

Jamie could feel her brother’s presence beside her, someone else on the other side, gently grabbing hold of her elbow to stabilise her.

“Are you okay?” she heard someone ask, not sure who it was, because she’d closed her eyes again, trying to fight the dizziness.

“I… feel a little faint,” she whispered, wrapping her hand around Joe’s arm, because it was something, someone familiar.

“Come on, just a couple of steps.” Another familiar voice said, the one holding onto her elbow, and when she blinked her eyes open, she saw that it was Dacre, helping her to the nearest couch together with Joe.

“Can we get a medic in here?”

The commotion surrounding her made Jamie close her eyes again. She felt a little better as soon as she was seated and didn’t have to stand anymore, didn’t have to rely on her legs holding her up.

“How are you feeling?” Joe asked, taking her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze to keep her focus. “And don’t lie to me, ‘cause you know that I detect when you’re lying to me.” 

She could hear the smile in his voice, trying to lighten the mood. Being the centre of attention because of something like this wasn’t doing Jamie any good, she’d much rather be somewhere else, somewhere more private, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to walk over to her trailer right now.

“I thought I could pull through, you know?” she said quietly, eyes drifting shut again.

“No, no, no, don’t close your eyes. Look at me please!” Joe tilted her head upwards waiting for her to open her eyes again, and she did, making him smile in turn. “Good. You should have said something, Jamie. We could have rearranged something.”

“It was okay… and all of a sudden…” She shrugged her shoulders, earning her a squeeze of the hand Dacre was holding right now, sitting on the other side of her.

“It’s alright,” Dacre said, reassuring her, a smile on his face that stood in stark contrast to the fake blood from the fight between his character and Joe’s.

“I’m still sorry.”

“Stop apologising, okay? It’s no big deal. It could have happened to any of us.” Dacre ran his thumb over the back of her hand to reassure her, and it really slowed down her breathing a little.

When the medics arrived, Joe and Dacre gave them some room, but Joe stepped behind the sofa to put his hand on her shoulder, show her that he was there, and wouldn't go anywhere. The Duffer brothers stayed with them as well, while they dismissed everyone else. It wasn’t good to have everyone crowding in around Jamie, suffocating her. They were just worried about her friend, but right now, the less people, the better for her.

The medics took their time checking her vitals, asking her questions, and she already knew that this was mostly her own fault, so she bit her bottom lip after confessing about skipping dinner.

“Alright, she needs lots of rest starting now, something to eat and lots of water.”

Joe nodded his head immediately.

“I’ll take care of her.”

“We’ve wrapped it up anyway. And we don’t want to see you on set until you really feel better, okay?”

“Yeah… sorry about all this.” Jamie looked up at them with an apologetic smile, but nobody was angry at her like she’d feared. All of them had just been worried, and were glad that it was nothing serious.

“I’ll help you get her to the trailer,” Dacre offered, helping Joe get Jamie up off the sofa.

“You really don’t need to do that. I can walk by myself.” Jamie tried to protest, but the slight wobble in her step betrayed her words.

“Sure you can.” Joe rolled his eyes, gathering her things, while Dacre decided that there was an even better way to get her to her trailer.

“Wrap your arms around my neck and hold on tight,” he ordered her before lifting her up.

“Are you crazy! I’m way too heavy for you to be carrying me.”

“Actually, you’re not. And now, just hold on tight. That’ll make it easier.”

Joe just grinned to himself, watching the two, seeing the pout on Jamie’s lips slowly disappear, only to be replaced with a shy smile. She knew that she’d lost this battle, and should rather comply than start an argument that she was sure to lose.

Joe led the way to her trailer and opened the door, so that Dacre could carry her inside. He carefully put her down on the sofa.

“Thank you.” Jamie slowly looked up at both guys. “Really, I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“You don’t think I’m gonna leave you all alone, do you?” Joe plopped down next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “I’ll make sure that you follow the doctor’s orders!”

“And I’ll get you something to eat,” Dacre offered, and before Jamie could protest, he was out the door again.

“You really don’t have to stay here, Joe.”

“But I want to. Granted, I should probably take a shower, and so should you, but only after you've had something to eat.” He leaned over to press a kiss to her temple before he straightened again.

“God, I feel so awful about all this.” Jamie buried her face in her hands, trying to calm her breathing again. Now that they were alone, she thought about what had happened, how this had played out.

“Hey, hey, hey, stop that.” Joe reached for his sister’s hands, gently pulled them away from her face. “Things like that can happen, okay? No need to worry. Everyone was more concerned about your well-being anyway instead of anything else. Because they all care about you. Okay? We can keep filming tomorrow.”

“I…” she stuttered, taking a deep breath. She knew that he was right, she’d felt it in the way everyone had reacted, and so she was able to smile again. “Right. You’re right.”

“Good. You won’t get rid of me today. Well, just for a moment to take a shower, but apart from that, I’ll keep you company and make sure you get enough sleep.” Even if that meant that he had to sleep on the sofa, he would NOT leave her side tonight.

Dacre came back shortly after he’d left with steaming food for all three of them, an extra big portion for Jamie. While Joe gobbled down his dinner, the other two took their time.

“I’ll just take a quick shower and then I’ll be back, alright?” he asked, looking at Dacre and Jamie.

“Sure, I’ll keep her company,” Dacre answered with a grin, making Joe leave without having to worry about you.

“I can stay alone, you know? You’ve already done enough with getting food for us.”

“Nonsense. You’re not supposed to be alone right now, and I actually like spending time in your presence. So don’t worry about it, ‘kay?” Dacre gave her another smile, before he concentrated and the rest of his food. He hadn’t had time to get changed or shower, but he’d at least wiped the fake blood from his face, so he felt a little bit more like himself, even if he was still wearing the wig.

“Thank you,” Jamie said, a sincere smile on her lips.

“No problem.” Dacre watched her for a moment. “You really scared us there for a moment.”

“I know, and that wasn’t my intention.”

“I know that. Just… you need to listen to your body, to what you need, and if that means taking a break, so be it. Or do you need someone to remind you that you need to eat, even if you don’t feel like it?” It was an offer, and while she knew she could talk to her brother about this, make him remind her to get some food, it was nice to have someone else do that for a change.

“I think that might be a good idea.”

“Good, then I’ll do that, and maybe shove some food your way whenever I get something for myself.” Dacre chuckled, already having that plan in his head, because he wanted the people around him to feel good, to be safe, and if that meant taking care that you ate enough throughout the day, he was happy to take that upon himself.

They ate the rest of their meal together, chatting about this and that until Joe came back from his shower.

“You feeling better?” he asked, taking his seat again, looking her over, but he was already relieved to see the colour returning to her face.

“Yeah, definitely. Thank you!” She looked between the two men in her trailer, a smile on her lips.

“Good! Now, you’ll need lots of rest, so I’ll leave the two of you alone and hop in the shower.”

“Thanks Dacre!” Joe spoke up, grinning at his friend. While they were enemies on screen, they’d grown quite close off screen.

“Anytime!” With that, he was out of the door, leaving Jamie and Joe alone.

“And you’re gonna take a shower, leave the door unlocked, and then we can watch a movie or whatever, alright?”

“Can we watch Digimon Adventure?” she asked, giving him her best puppy eyes. A wave of nostalgia hit Joe, but he chuckled. They used to watch it when they were younger all the time.

“Sure thing. Now get a move on, before I shove you in there. You stink.” He got up to clean the plates, a grin plastered on his lips.“I do not!” Jamie gasped, clutching a hand to her chest, before she got up and hugged her brother from behind, held him like that for a moment, before she grabbed a fresh set of clothes and vanished into the bathroom. Joe looked after her, shaking his head. He’d been worried sick about her, but now he was able to calm down a bit. He wasn’t only the protective Steve Harrington in the series, a part of that was all him as well, because he couldn’t not take care of the people he loved. And so he waited for his sister to get out of the shower so that he could tuck her in and watch her favourite series with her until she drifted off to sleep. Much needed sleep at that! All the trouble was forgotten the next morning, when she could start over fresh - and since then, Dacre always had some food for her, even if it was just a chocolate bar.

#joe keery #steve harrington #dacre montgomery #billy hargrove #joe keery imagine #joe keery fanfic #dacre montgomery imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #staffi writes #allyspencer

[batjokezlovineverything]

How I Feel About Stranger Things Season 4 Vol 2

Beware, spoilers will be mentioned. If you do not want to read spoilers, do not proceed below the line. Thank you.

I'm going to be blunt. I was let down by the second volume. I pretty much loved the first volume but the second volume... All over the place. First off, SINCE WHEN WAS ELEVEN ABLE TO REVERSE DEATH? Max died but Eleven was able to reverse the death. Max IS in a coma but she's alive. If Eleven has always had this ability, so many people could've been saved, including Barbara, Bob, Billy, Alexei, Chrissy, etc.

Then, I understand Max's feelings towards Billy and that a part of her DID wanted him DEAD but I felt like they COMPLETELY recanted the letter from "Dear Billy" because there's no way that Max was faking those tears. There's no way that Max faked her emotions. There's no way that Max faked grieving. There's no way that Max was faking being su!c!dal. For example, when Vecna pretends to be Billy, we see him say as Billy, "And why, late at night, you have sometimes wished to follow me. Follow me into death. That is why I am here, Max. To end your suffering, once and for all."

Like, I understand, Billy is a terrible person and I am not defending that - however, he was abused. He still was abused by his father. He wasn't a former victim, he was still a victim of abuse. Obviously, I wish he didn't continue that cycle of abuse, but to me, if Steve can change his sexist and emotionally abusive ways - Billy could have, too. Billy was 17. He was still a kid. Everyone can grow. Then again, I tend to always think the positive in complex situations. That's a good and a bad thing.

Anyways, I also do not understand the hatred for metalheads that the Duffer brothers have. First, we lose Billy (if you do not like Billy, that's fine. Please do not make a comment because I do not want any fighting. You're valid.) and now Eddie?! I don't even think the Duffer Brother's realize how much hyperfixtations mean to people. A lot of neurodivergent people use comfort characters as a way to cope so this is going to be painful for a lot of people. It is painful. I cried like a baby. It made me think of July 2019, when I watched Billy sacrifice himself. Then, here we are, it's July 2022 and here we have Eddie sacrificing himself. It's ridiculous.

Also, I want to understand if the people who died from a creature of the upside-down (or anything related to it) actually die or if they go to the realm that Henry/001 went into.

The queerbaiting is full-force yet again. We heard all of those interviews and articles about how they planned to address his sexuality during this volume but all I saw was Will crying. I saw him lie and promote Mileven by saying El commissioned the painting. However, Mike knew that El said, "Will is painting something for someone he likes." and Mike didn't even acknowledge it. He didn't remember that letter because he was so caught up in this "romance" will Eleven. Like, I obviously don't think Mike has feelings for Will, but I would love to see an openly gay character on the show, besides Robin. I love to see the representation.

The lack of memories and flashbacks from Max's childhood also hurt me. Eleven was in Max's mind. Max was possessed by Vecna during this.

This part is very off-topic but this is about the whole Billy situation. Yes, the Duffer's wrote Billy's character to be racist, well specifically Ross. Matt didn't. They wanted Dacre to say the n-word. Dacre refused. Both Dacre and Caleb said that they never thought Billy's intentions were related to Lucas' race but because he has this urge to protect Max but it's not in a healthy way, obviously. It could relate to how he wasn't ever to help his mother as a child. The Duffer's also originally planned to make Steve r*pe Nancy in the pilot. This was confirmed by Joe Keery himself. So, these topics were brought up by the writers. Some people don't even know that the Duffer brother's are problematic. They have allegations of verbal abuse to female crew-members. They are very privileged. There are people on Reddit who pointed this out during BTS videos. Specifically, "Beyond Stranger Things"

Anyways, I prefer to respect the actor's version of their character. They're the ones who get into the mindset and head of the character. They know their character inside and out. Dacre was the one who was able to get more of a backstory for Billy in Season 3. So, yeah, I prefer the actor's perspective vs. the writers because some people don't realize how problematic the Duffer's are. Yes, they're talented writers but that is all. I'm sure they are kind and they may not be as bad as people make them out to be.

So, that's my personal thoughts about Volume 2. I liked it, I didn't hate it but there were lots of problems within the storyline. I'm not even sure how they're going to do a time jump with the current storyline of the town being split into four.

#stranger things #stranger things spoilers #stranger things 4 #stranger things 4 spoilers #spoilers #st spoilers #max mayfield #billy hargrove #eddie munson #byler #byler better be canon

[judeswhore]

I posted 18,094 times in 2022

That's 10,693 more posts than 2021!

10,114 posts created (56%)

7,980 posts reblogged (44%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@judeswhore

@daydreamingleclerc

@jarrodsbowen

@neverinadream

I tagged 3,831 of my posts in 2022

#jude bellingham - 155 posts

#gilmore girls anon 🥰 - 147 posts

#steve harrington - 114 posts

#joe keery - 64 posts

#steve harrington fluff - 60 posts

#previous tags - 57 posts

#steve harrington smut - 54 posts

#asks <3 - 47 posts

#steve harrington x reader - 47 posts

#steve harrington one shot - 45 posts

Longest Tag: 112 characters

#+ from a nancy stand point it’s as tho they can’t write her character without her having to have a romantic plot

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

11:11; steve harrington

summary: in an overwhelming moment of pent up insecurities, worry starts to creep up on you as you wonder if maybe you aren’t enough for steve anymore

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

requested: yes

warnings: insecurities, reader doubting herself a little

notes: feedback is appreciated! you can find my masterlist here.

the silence in the car was almost suffocating, the air awkward and tense and you so badly wished you’d asked robin for a ride. steve kept sneaking glances at you, his fingers drumming restlessly against the steering wheel, clear worry and confusion etched into those effortlessly pretty features. more than once he’d opened his mouth to ask if you were okay but the words died on his tongue when he took in your frowning expression and the protective way you’d wrapped your arms around yourself. you were refusing to look at him, he knew that much, eyes locked on the passing trees outside of your window, mind so obviously not in the car.

you were upset, stomach rolling in nauseous waves as you replayed back the last few hours in your head. you and steve were spending more and more time with nancy now that hawkins was under threat, working tirelessly to figure out what the hell was happening and maybe that was the main reason for your turbulent emotions. you were afraid and that fear was making all your other fears and insecurities roll into one until you were left doubting every single aspect of your life. like whether steve had ever actually stopped loving nancy. like whether he was going to realise that you weren't the one, whether he was going to fall out of love with you quicker than he'd fallen in love with you.

you'd caught the way steve had looked at nancy, doubt sparking in the very corners of your mind. there was something soft about his expression, something open, a look that, in your eyes, only came with a long standing feeling of love. sitting in the wheeler's basement you'd watched them from the sofa, watched them trade inside jokes and laughs, the way steve nudged his hip against hers, how his smile was so bright his eyes crinkled at the corners. a feeling of confusion and loss bloomed low in your tummy, insecurity washing over you in waves as you wondered if you were enough. the shared glances made you question if maybe you were only a temporary replacement, a placeholder until steve got the girl he really wanted back.

"hey," you startled at the sound of steve's voice, almost flinching in shock when he pressed his hand gently on your thigh. he gave it a light squeeze, thumb rubbing softly over your skin as he brought your attention to him. "you're awfully quiet." you hummed a little in reply, letting your gaze linger on his dashboard, feeling awkward and unable to meet his eyes.

"just tired."

"you wanna spend the night? i can sneak into work and get us a movie, might be a nice distraction from all of this." it was a shock to steve when you shook your head because you never turned down movie nights, he understood things were messy and scary right now but that was exactly why he wanted you by his side. he could make sure you were safe that way.

"i just wanna go home and sleep."

"well then how about i stay over at your place?"

"my parents are home." total lie and you knew steve knew it, you'd told him only that morning that your parents were visiting family out of town. you turned back to the window, frown only deepening and he removed his hand from your leg, settled it back on the wheel. his heart felt funny, thumping unsteadily in his chest and his palms had turned unnaturally damp because he felt you were upset with him and he wasn't exactly sure why.

"what's wrong?"

"nothing, i told you, i'm just tired." your tone was snappy and it only escalated steve's worry, his throat dry when he swallowed. he slowed the car, turning on his hazards and pulled up at the side of the road, turning in his seat only to be met with your disgruntled expression. "what're you doing?"

"what's wrong?"

See the full post

3,706 notes - Posted July 2, 2022

#4

ok this is my first time requesting so sorry if it makes 0 sense but Steve taking reader home after she’s had a few too many drinks at a party and she’s getting all handsy and keeps trying to ask him out even though they’re already together and all he can do is laugh

this made perfect sense and i love the idea!

"c'mon pretty girl, gimme your hand." steve held his car door open with one hand against the top of the window, his other hand outstretched for you to take, palm up, fingers wiggling slightly. from your place in his passenger seat you gazed up at him, doe eyes full of clear adoration and just a little bit of awe, glinting in the faint light from the street lamps.

"you think i'm pretty?" he could only smile at that, humming and nodding his head, taking hold of your hand and pulling you carefully from your seat. you wobbled a little, settled into his side when he wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed the side of your head. he awkwardly pushed the car door shut, huffed out a soft laugh because you'd shifted and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressed yourself flush to his chest.

"prettiest girl i've ever seen." he gripped your waist, watched a smile appear on your face, big and bright, eyes crinkling at the corners. your fingers got lost in his hair, just a little clumsy and he winced when your rings tugged on the strands, smoothed his hands down over your sides.

"i think you're really pretty, too." steve grinned, wrapped one arm securely around your waist, the other trying to find his door key on the little silver ring, all while guiding you to the front door.

"yeah?"

"yeah, real pretty. i bet all the girls love you." he could only snort, a breathless sound, his fingers fumbling with the lock as yours traced over his chest. you skimmed your nails over the material of his shirt, focused a few seconds on the hem before pushing beneath, running over the band of his jeans. "are you taking me home?"

"we're already home, baby." he pushed the door open, caught the way your lips had tilted into a smirk, fingers dipping a little dangerously beneath his jeans and he had to tug your hand away. he sent you a warning look, ignoring the pout that had settled on your face. "hands to yourself tonight."

he pressed his own hand to the small of your back, pushed you into his hallway as he kicked the door shut, locked it again before setting the key in the bowl on the little table. you watched him, hands swinging at your sides, smile sleepy and fogged with alcohol, gaze tracking the length of his body as you reached to hook your fingers in his belt loops. you tugged him closer, his hands finding your upper arms as he led you down towards his kitchen, knowing he had to get you some water and pain killers.

“do you wanna go out with me?”

“go out with you?” you nodded, watched him through your lashes, tilting your head with a look of faux innocence because your fingers were trying to work the button of his jeans open.

“yeah, you’re just so pretty, don’t want anyone else to have you,” you pressed a kiss to his jaw, lipstick staining his skin. “want you to be my boyfriend.” again, your lips fell into a pout when steve gently pulled your hands away from him, re-buttoned his jeans and in one movement lifted you to settle you on the counter top beside the sink. the kitchen was dark, bathed only in the light from the moon through the large windows and he watched it flicker over your skin, catching on your eyes as his chest tugged just slightly.

“you wanna be my girlfriend?”

“uh huh, been thinkin’ ‘bout it all night, you’re just so pretty.” steve wasn’t entirely sure how much you’d had to drink but given the way you were trying to feel him up and asking him out despite two years of dating you figured it was a lot. your words were only slightly slurred, bumping into each other sometimes when your tried to talk a little too fast and it was all so endearing he couldn’t help but laugh, push a kiss to the soft skin of your cheek as he patted your thigh. “we can go to enzo’s right now, so i can show you off.”

“i’ll let you take me out tomorrow, yeah? can woo me and show me off as much as you want.” he paused, kissed the space between your brows where the skin had started to crease again. “but now i need you to drink some water for me and get some sleep.” he leant his body passed you so he could grab a glass off the side, hiding his smile from you when your hands started to wander again, pushing under his shirt so your fingers could card through the hair on his chest. he let you map out his skin for a few seconds as he filled a glass with water, tried not to let the softness of your fingers over his happy trail distract him because you were drunk and you were going straight to sleep, no matter how many times you tried to touch him.

See the full post

4,050 notes - Posted August 13, 2022

#3

out of your league; steve harrington

summary: steve’s friends refuse to believe his secret girlfriend is the pretty girl from the bakery and are more than a little surprised when you actually show up

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

requested: yes

warnings: none

notes: you can find my masterlist here.

“you’re so full of shit.”

“are you being serious right now?”

“bullshit, harrington.”

“why would i lie?”

“why would y/n date you?” dustin and steve sat opposite each other at a table in benny's diner, glares almost identical although dustin looked just slightly more bewildered than the older boy. steve had his arms crossed defensively, brow creased in slight annoyance over the fact his friends were refusing to believe who his girlfriend was. they'd been arguing about it for the past fifteen minutes since he'd declared you'd be joining them for lunch, dustin and max insisting that a girl as hot as you was far too cool to even consider dating him. it had been four months since you’d called it official, almost five months since your first date but steve had held off on even telling his friends he knew you, mainly because in all honesty, they were right, you were far too cool to even hang out with him.

"because i'm hot and charming and a total killer with the ladies?" this made robin snort from the seat next to him and he threw her the biggest glare he could muster, squashing his palm down on to the tiny origami swan she'd been making out of a napkin. her response was a quick kick to his ankle beneath the table, her own glare withering.

“you’re unnervingly full of yourself.”

“i’m factual.”

“factual schmactual, there is no way y/n l/n is the secret girl who’s been leaving love notes at the counter.” a snort sounded from across the table, max not even bothering to hide it as she grinned teasingly at steve.

“you’ve been getting love notes?”

“and sending them.” at that she only laughed harder, robin giggling a little behind her hand and steve wanted the ground to swallow him whole. his face was burning, the tops of his cheeks and ears no doubt a startling shade of red and he vowed to himself this was the last time he was treating them to lunch.

“i still refuse to believe it’s y/n,” dustin picked at the corner of the menu he was looking at, head shaking while he took quick glances at steve. “i mean, why were you keeping her a secret? shouldn’t it have been the other way around?”

See the full post

4,063 notes - Posted July 24, 2022

#2

how about a blurb where steve's girl comes into family video asking for a hug after a bad day and he practically trips rushing to give it to her?

oh ik for a fact steve wld drop everything immediately for his girl

you sought out steve the second you stepped into family video, pushing on to your tip toes to peer around the almost empty store in search of your boyfriend. you were seconds away from crying, tears already brimming in your eyes, that awkward lump lodged in your throat and after the day you'd had all you needed was the comfort of steve's arms and the steady thump of his heart to ease the ache inside of you. robin glanced up from the computer, the grin on her face slowly slipping into a frown.

"oh, hey, y/n are-"

"where's steve?" you hadn't meant to cut her off, didn't mean to be so harsh but you were embarrassed about your impending break down and in that moment your boyfriend was all you wanted.

“harrington, your girl’s here!” her yell was rather loud, startled one of the customers standing just beside the counter and your body felt hot from the attention it brought to you. it did grab steve’s attention immediately however, his head popping up over the top of one of the shelves, hair slightly disheveled. like robin, the smile on his face dropped instantly when he saw your expression, the exhausted look on your face, the obvious remnants of old tears settled beneath your eyes.

"baby," he dropped the tape in his hand with a clatter, matching the pouted look on your face as you stepped further into the store. you swiped at a stray tear that had fallen down your cheek. "hey, what's wrong?" you shook your head, sniffled rather aggressively.

"can you just- can you come here? really need a hug, stevie." your voice cracked and so did steve's heart, a soft noise tumbling from his lips as he nodded, clumsily pushing the cart he'd been using out of the way. his jacket got caught against the side of it and he swore under his breath when it rattled rather loudly into the shelves of horror films. in his haste to get out of the aisles and around the counter to you he whacked his hip off the corner and almost tripped over a wire robin hadn't tucked away, wincing as pain rolled over his skin.

his arms opened immediately and you met him halfway, let him tug your body down one of the aisles and away from prying eyes before he wrapped you up against his chest. he’d turned so his back was to the customers, hiding your frame as you pressed your face into the soft fabric of his shirt, your arms circling his waist, fingers clasping a little at his back. steve’s own arms came around your upper body, one pressed flat palmed to your shoulder blade, the other gentle against the back of your head, cradling you against him and the second you were tucked away safely the tears fell.

you melted into him, let him hug you tight, his grip helping keep you steady as his thumb brushed comfortingly over the back of your head, his lips pressed into your hair. he kept like that for a few minutes, let you hold him and cry, let you get it all out while pressing the occasional kiss to the top of your head or squeezing your shoulders a little tighter. his head dipped a little lower, neck craned almost awkwardly so he could brush his lips over your ear.

“i’ve got you, baby, m’here, yeah?” he kissed your temple, strained back up and pressed his cheek to the top of your head, swayed you both ever so slightly. the ache inside of you had dulled slightly from the intoxicating scent of him and the steady thump thump thump of his heart beneath your ear when you turned your head. the tight grip he had on you kept you grounded, helped you realise you were here with him and not back having the shift from hell, helped to slow the flow down of tears that had soaked through his shirt.

as you turned your head and pressed your cheek flat to his chest his hand shifted from the back of your head and cupped your jaw, large palm warm over your cheek. his thumb brushed the tears away, soothed over your damp skin until your body completely relaxed and your lashes fluttered from exhaustion. he kissed your forehead, let his lips linger for a few seconds. in his arms it didn’t feel like you were in family video, his warmth and comfort made you feel like it was just the two of you, wrapped up in his bed, covered by his sheets, a soft tangle of limbs and it eased your heart, made it feel less heavy.

“y’wanna tell me what’s wrong?” voice soft he grazed his thumb down the bridge of your nose, smiled into your hair when you kissed his palm and then shook your head. you tightened your arms around his waist.

“can you just hold me a little longer?” steve didn’t need to answer verbally, only nodded and squeezed your shoulder, went back to the soft back and forth of his thumb over your cheek. he knew he needed to work, the shelves wouldn’t organise themselves but nothing, not even his job, would come before making sure you were okay.

4,886 notes - Posted August 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

my girl; steve harrington

summary: you never expected your first time meeting steve’s parents to go so horrifically wrong

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

requested: yes

warnings: steve’s shitty parents, not the best writing i’ve done

notes: feedback is appreciated! you can find my masterlist here.

“you know she isn’t coming in just to rent the breakfast club every week, right?” you eyed steve as he pulled open the car door for you, his hand reaching down to grip yours so he could help you out. his fingers were cold against your skin despite the summer sunshine, his much larger fingers wrapping gently around yours. the tiny promise ring he’d gifted you for your birthday twinkled in the light, steve’s thumb momentarily brushing over it before he pulled you up.

“she doesn’t just rent the breakfast club, sometimes she rents the goonies.” he pushed the car door shut behind you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you shook your head.

“she’s not there for the movies, steve.” you slid your arm around his waist, fingers slipping slightly beneath the material of his shirt to graze over his bare skin. his gaze was light and taunting, a lazy smirk lifting one side of his mouth because he could almost feel the jealousy radiating from you.

kennedy walton had been coming into family video every friday for the past six weeks, almost always renting the breakfast club even after spending half an hour browsing the shelves. steve knew she wasn’t really looking, she spent most of her time eyeing him, twirling her hair and smiling just a little too much whenever he glanced over. steve also knew how much it annoyed you, the other girl almost always just so happened to be there when you met him after your shift at the police station and her high pitched giggles were guaranteed to bring out a scowl from you. on more than one occasion he’d heard you mutter to robin that he “wasn’t even that funny”.

“maybe she’s there for keith, he’s been getting a lot of female attention since he grew that beard.” he’d spun the two of you around, both of his hands now settled on your cheeks to tilt your head up to him, and gently pressed you up against the car. your look was so dry that steve gave a soft snort, lips coming down to smother kisses across your cheeks and nose. “or maybe she comes in just for a few minutes of your charming personality.”

“she likes you and you know it.”

“so?”

“so she comes in to stare at you like a total creeper and flirt. terribly. she’s a terrible flirt.” you were almost pouting, brows drawn together in a dramatic show of irritation but steve could only focus on how adorable you were. on how good it felt to have someone love him so much that it bothered them knowing girls came into the store just to stare at him. his nose bumped yours, his thumb brushing in soft motions across your cheek and he could feel the way you melted into him, one of your hands gripping lightly at the fabric of his shirt.

“she’s not that terrible at flirting.” he teased, unable to hold back his grin when you arched your brows. “and she always compliments my hair. you never compliment my hair anymore.”

“because i’m not trying to get you to fuck me.”

“no?”

“no.” you tilted your head, cocking it slightly to one side and watched steve carefully. “you really think her flirting is good?” this had him snorting again, shaking his head with a quiet laugh, his grin only making you smile despite your tiny feeling of annoyance at kennedy.

See the full post

5,093 notes - Posted June 10, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #false #jude tag🫶🏻🫶🏻 #reblogged myself the most #so real #bc i’m so in love w myself #and lillie in my tags🤭🤭

[faerune]

💤 🎂 🌹 🙈 🌌 📖 ☄️ 💗+ Diana!!!!

Do they fall asleep easily? What helps them sleep? Diana isn't usually able to fall asleep easy and she's usually running on little to no sleep. She just isn't able to get her mind to slow down enough for her to relax. Her friends learn if they need her at night, she most likely is already up and actually might welcome the company if she likes you. Diana doesn't really have much that helps her sleep regularly she just kind of...runs until she loses steam and falls asleep anywhere and everywhere lmao. I can see Robin or Steve tossing a blanket over her and them moving to another room so she can get some rest :')

When is their birthday? Do they like celebrating it? Diana's birthday is April 15th, 1967! Diana is not someone who really enjoys being the center of attention (for things that she doesn't actively pursue anyways) so she's not a huge fan of birthdays and if they're going to celebrate in needs to be a more chill, small gathering!

Do they like Valentines Day? Have they been confessed to before? Have they confessed to anyone before? Before Steve? Gross. Disgusting. Hates it. Mostly because she's never had someone really to celebrate it with! It 100% grows on her though because Steve is a Valentine's Day person and really just makes it a Big Event that she can't help but adore because he loves it so much. I think she's been confessed to on Valentine's Day before maybe once or twice (which...resulted in surprised laughter that was not meant to be mean but 100% was) but she's never confessed any crushes on that day!

What's a side of your OC that they don't want to show other people? The side that needs people. The Diana that wants connections and loves her friends and family. The needy, emotional side of her that wants love and acceptance. Being lower on the social totem pole for a lot of her life turned her so aloof so she can seem above it all and protect herself but that part of her still exists. Putting herself out there usually results in hurt. That attitude does more harm to her than she realizes. She's naturally a loner but that doesn't mean she doesn't need love and approval.

What was the inspiration behind your oc? What was the first thing you decided about them? My love for Joe Keery started all this okay but look where it took Diana! I knew I wanted someone who is totally Steve's opposite (surface wise) to pair him with because I absolutely love opposites attract ships. The first thing I decided about her was that she was super smart and wanted to get out of Hawkins!

Do they like reading? What's their favourite genre? Diana loves to read! She can read for hours and hours if she gets sucked into a book. Her favorite genre is Sci-Fi or Fantasy and she's a huge, huge fan of the Dune books. She gets Robin to read them and Robin gets through the first book but then the second book comes along and people start turning into worms and she's like AIGHT that's it for me.

What do people assume about them? Are they right? There are some really mean assumptions based on the fact that her father is Hawkins High's janitor stupid rumors like she smells like garbage, too poor for [x], etc. which are mostly entirely wrong (save for not being exactly comfortable financially growing up). People also assume she's arrogant and weird which...are both mostly right lmao

If they have a crush, is it noticable? What changes when they're in love? Answered here!

#thank you gabby!!!! i love her sm dont look at me #my little weirdo #asks #oc: diana

[eddieydewr]

you cannot convince me that the duffers did not know eddie would be shipped w/steve. like maybe they didn't anticipate joe and joe's onscreen chemistry and idk they seem like friends irl BUT like the Duffers set up that whole awkward steve romance plot, they made eddie *his* age even tho he's in highschool still and it's like. i get it, not all characters need to have a romantic interest but his very presence and proximity to steve this season just... ESPECIALLY w/the field day ppl had w/harringrove, like??? you take away the asshole and instead present us and steve w/the perfect man... ughhh make it make SENSE

RIGHT‼️ i never got the whole harringrove thing bc billy is just… awful and it feels like people only shipped them bc it’s two attractive guys, and opposites attract, bla bla. but steve and eddie’s dynamic is just… mwa mwah.

btw, i thought it was weird that eddie would wear that pocket hanky to school because he’s pretty much an adult and he’s surrounded by minors but then i realised he probably wears it for an extra layer of protection, to keep people off his back if they knew he was into SM sexual acts, whether he actually is or not, lmao. people just need to take one look at him and know not to mess with eddie “the freak” munson. only those close to him know he’s a sweetheart 😔

and and and it just makes sense the way eddie reacted when he had steve against the wall with a broken bottle, he’s terrified after the shit he saw and he thinks steve’s one of the angry townsfolk coming after him. but dustin was right and steve’s actually a good guy, and eddie is just 🥰🥺 while trying to convince steve that nancy loves him and all so he can safely pine from a distance.

duffer bros, i am onto you.

#oh fock i was supposed to reply privately fjdjjs

[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

Some of my favorite pictures of Steve & Joe

#i can't find the ones where joe's sticking his finger up steve's nose rn but besides those these are pretty much my favs pfgmwpgmw #and excluding gifs from that famous september 1981 interview #best bros ;-; #that top photo is prob my fav pic of them #def leppard #steve clark #joe elliott #baby leppard #it's funny how you can watch joe transition into beefy babe but steve basically stays the same orgeorigmer #i also just noticed how often joe has his arm around steve #more than the others #joe protec steeb ;o; #joe knew steve had to be protected and he loved him so much ;-;

[taylorkellyreporting]

i hope no one minds if i inconsistently liveblog this bitch: hawaii five-0 s2 edition

danny visiting steve in prison this season:

kono my love ☹️

oooh chin saw wo fat at the governor’s funeral! hope this means he’ll stop doubting steve’s innocence

steve is so fine and for what

did we need a closeup of steve working out? no but they added it in anyway and i am so thankful they did

what the fuck

“putting more of your friends behind bars?” get him again for me danny

THIS SHOW ISN’T LETTING ME BREATHE

“zip it, kermit!” max’s little smile pls 😭

RACHEL’S GOING BACK TO STAN?! fuck fjgjgjfks

IT’S NOT HIS KID????? ikyfl

oh kono got caught? i’m so surprised

WHEW FIVE-0 IS BACK (kinda, kono is still gone)

wait was his dad working with wo fat????

hesse is dead and wo fat is the one who killed him because of course he is

KAYE??? FUCKING KAYE???? I FEEL SO BETRAYED

I LIKED HER SO MUCH WHAT THE FUCK

NOTHING AND I MEAN NOTHING COULD HAVE PREPARED ME FOR THAT

i never could have predicted that kaye is working with wo fat like i trusted her completely

steve and lori are def gonna fuck and i am here for it

wow kaye plays dirty

how could she take advantage of steve’s kindness and not feel an ounce of guilt?

“how long have you two been married?” 😭😭😭

kaye and her crocodile ass tears 🙄 wonder where she’s actually going

kono :(

rlly wanted lori to figure out that kaye was hiding something

i feel like they’re gonna test kono’s likability this season and i’m not here for it

so disappointed in kono

“why are tagging this guy a homicide?…’this guy’ it’s a hand” 😭

“those coins? they’re about as real as your tan” pls

i rlly hope kono used chin’s login on purpose

well she def didn’t use it on purpose

i felt joe was lying but damn i was hoping he wasn’t

i hope that little speech made kono feel like shit

so steve’s dad just wasn’t a good guy?

now why does kono have blood on her hand in this thumbnail 😩

seriously malia looks like chin’s mom

“where was that something special when he lost his badge?”oooh malia’s face was priceless

WOAH

lori 😭😭😭

KONO?! well fuck

WHAT

this episode is so intense my gawd

OH GOD something’s gonna happen to joe, huh?

MY GAWD

he deffo knew about mokoto bc of kaye and i can’t wait for them to finally figure it out

well that was definitely an…opening.

danny deserved that rock through his window tbh

max 😭😭

the dog thought his owner was home 🥺

NOT STEVE IN THE BACK 😭😭😭

chin got contact high fjgjfjdjs

wow okay exotic animals

OH MY GOD MAX REALLY DID IT 😭😭

i love kamekona so much 😭

i love when steve and danny fight like a married couple

9 eps in and still no rachel…🤨

kaye betrayed the team for a dead body oh wow

it’s always a complicated thing when a character like kaye gets killed off

whew that ep was intense as hell

my gawd she just killed him in front of all those kids

joe :(

“it has to do with us” woah?

“i think my dad knows that guy” HELLO

woah woah woah they blew up the drugs

those are some ruthless drug lords my gawd

those poor babies are gonna be traumatized for life

losing my mind what the hell is going on with joe???

DANNY AND LORI?!?

“imagine what they’d pay if they thought that their son was still alive” what a monster

forgot chin is getting married lmao

“i was hoping you wouldn’t say that” BITCH

got a feeling either steve’s mom or dad is alive and that’s who joe has been protecting

the boyfriend took pills???? he deffo has something to hide

“i don’t need $5000 and if i did i’d steal it from my own parents” LMFAOOO

OH MY GOD????

“i helped him fake his death” i-

i just wanna hug steve :(

well rachel certainly looks different

i’ve never seen a more obvious ad placement than this subway one 😭😭

“they’re gonna kill each other before we set the play” lmfaooo yeah

rachel’s stomach looks so fake pls

i’m sorry but i don’t believe joe

still doesn’t explain the phone call where joe said steve was too close to finding out the truth

lori’s stronger than me bc once steve had me in his arms i wouldn’t be able to not kiss him

HE TOOK GRACE

“we’re never going to see chin again” WHAT?????

NOT LORI LEAVING I HATE IT HERE

can’t believe i’m almost done with this season omg?

steve looks like he aged ten years fjgjfjdks

i miss lori so much what the hell

“it was either that or you cook one of your frittata’s, danny” 😭

lekio was thee funniest ep of the series so far

“buttercream’s my favorite :D” i love steve 😭

not steve leaving what the actual hell

oh God this scene with the victims mom is so sad

i’ve never heard max so serious before it’s so odd

OH MY GOD?????

WOAH MAX STAY WITH ME

my gawd this episode was so good

this next episode is a crossover with ncis: los angeles so i’m about to be confused as hell

woah????

“what the hell happened?” “aside from waking up a foot shorter? my worst nightmare” 😭😭

danny and hanna’s dynamic has me dying

that takes “blood bath” to a whole new level

KONO AND FREAKING ADAM ARE YOU JOKING

“can you hurry back, please?” 🥺

“what are you wearing?” 284&(!?$/&:

DANNY?????

lmaooo so he’s just gonna pull a gun on kono? saw that coming tbh

this is so intense what the hell

“look at me” I CAN’T BREATHE FKGJFKCKDKS

can’t believe steve didn’t put one in wo fat when he had the chance like does he honestly believe that he’s actually going to stay in prison?

okay the summery for the finale is…a lot.

oh shit someone’s watching all of them

NOT HIM?

MAX YOU STAY WITH ME DAMN IT

i don’t understand?

we all know who chin’s saving

OH MY GOD HE CHOSE MALIA WHAT THE FUCK

LMAOOO HE KILLED HER ANYWAY

what the actual fuck man

I KNEW HIS MOM WAS ALIVE I FREAKING KNEW IT

#hawaii five 0 lb #long post #hawaii five 0 #danny danno williams #danny williams #steve mcgarrett #kono kalakaua #chin ho kelly #kamekona #max bergman #jenna kaye #lori weston #joe white #adam noshimuri #wo fat #grace williams #doris mcgarrett #mcdanno #steve x danny #danny x steve #chin x kono #steve x kono #steve x chin #danny x kono #kono x danny

[junova]

↬ 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐭 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

abstract: the one where steve finds your love letters.

pairing: au!steve x fem!reader

word count: 3K+

warnings: cussing, fluff, angst, crying, slight self-deprecation.

[author’s note]: hey guys! i’m really new to the writing scene so kind words are appreciated! srsly just testing my writing style out and wanted to just post something to motivate me to keep writing. hope u like it. <3

also thank u ari for the inspo and that bomb ass album that saved twenty-twenty. now we just need biden to get elected.

ps. don’t forget to vote! <3

Stevie,

First and foremost, I want you to know how proud of you I am. You have become the man you’ve said you become, the one I always knew you would. You have finally seen what the rest of us see.

A good man.

The soul you carry within you shines brighter than I’ve ever seen. Just for that only, I’m thankful for the time we’ve spent together. Maybe one day, I’ll be brave enough to tell you this without hiding behind the comfort of this notebook. She won’t spill my secrets, fortunate for me.

Some days you have no idea how badly I want to tell you. I think it’s on the days I discover a new fleck of green in your eyes or maybe when you show up to class with a cup of coffee for me without request.

More. More. More.

More. More. More.

It’s selfish of me, that much I know. More days than not, I would say you give too much of yourself away. Always wanting to appease everyone, you, Steven Rogers, the bridge to making the people around you happier than they walked in. Even when Bucky drags you into his nonsense bullshit, you say yes without hesitation.

I’ve got not a a clue on how you continue on, how you still remain you when you tend to spread yourself so thin. Who watches out for you? Who cares for you? Who loves the almighty, selfless Rogers?

For me, it’s much easier to pretend you carry too much on your plate than to deal with the rejection I would receive from you. You’re just too good, more than I deserve. More than I would be willing to take. I know I couldn’t possibly give you what you deserve but, I hope that one day you might see me differently. You would see me more than the light I’ve painted myself in.

Even though the shade is lovely, I want to be deeper. Deeper into you on a level which only seems unattainable at this point.

A forever friend. To be in your life, just as a friend, is an reward in itself.

But someday I hope you would love me in the same way I do. It’s all a love struck girl could do. Hope for the best, bet be prepared for the downfall.

With much love, your forever friend.

Tearing the page away from the binding of the overfilled notebook, dispensing it in the first empty drawer you could find, you abandoned the feelings as soon as the pen’s ink bleed out dry.

“You know it would just be easier to tell him how you feel.” You peaked up at the sound of her voice, before realizing she was looming over you, watching your write the letter.

Your supposed, secret letter.

“Nat, please. No.” Opening the drawer, she grabbed the letter but was surprised with just how many she found.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’ve written about him multiple times?” You sank in the soft, plush material of your seat hoping that just maybe it would begin to swallow you whole. Hopefully, fast enough were you wouldn’t have to endure the rest of the conversation. One you had been trying to avoid, for the past three years.

“It’s nothing Nat, just forget it.” Just like a Romanov, she couldn’t leave it alone. Even if she tried it was laced in her blood to see any little thing through.

“You really shouldn’t wait so long. A window might close for you, much sooner than you think.” With a curious eyebrow lifted, you felt your breath leave you.

“What does that supposed to mean?” Steve certainly deserved the best and you knew it was only time for him to figure out you would never be enough for him.

“Peggy Carter.” Peggy.

The one girl of a sea of many who had been enamored by Steve. He never really seemed to spend anytime with the women who vied for his attention, but Peggy was surely different than the rest.

Even if Steve was oblivious when it came to the advances everyone would make on him, he saw Peggy. Considering she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, she intimidated you. God, did she ever.

On numerous occasions she and Steve had gone out, and even though he assured you they were just friends you were starting to believe he was only trying to protect your feelings. As a friend.

He had never cancelled on you once for her and he would tell you if he had started to date someone, just like he had before.

Even though the entire three years you’d known him he only had one serious girlfriend and after eight months, the pair broke up and even now he still didn’t budge on why they broke up.

“Steve can do whatever he wants with her. He’s a single man. He’s gone out with her before and he’ll probably go with her again.” Then Sam was the next to speak up, dismissing the total bullshit spouting from your mouth.

“Can’t you see he doesn’t want to? The damn man follows you around like a goddamn puppy.” Okay, when did he even come in here?

“God, fuck, no he doesn’t. He would have said something by now, he’s had three years and it’s been nothing but radio silence.” With an all knowing smirk, Sam proposed a new concept into question.

“It has been three years. So, have you ever said anything to him?”

Shit. Fuck you, Wilson.

“W-Well, not exactly.” Sam didn’t have to say anything in response. You knew he was right and you hated it.

Your unwillingness still stood for you, there was just no way he actually would reciprocate your feelings.

“Listen, I think it would be really good for the both of you to air everything out. Peggy is sinking her claws in him and it isn’t too long before they get stuck. Just talk to him.” You nodded silently, but you weren’t sure if you’d ever have the courage to.

—

Emptiness.

It’s all you seemed to feel today. Following you around was a dark cloud, looming over you. Wishing you could be anywhere but your own body. Nothing in particular happened to make you deserve the feeling you were granted with. It just so happened to be one of those days.

From the moment you got out of bed — or rather stayed in bed until four in the afternoon, you felt like anything you would have done just didn’t feel enough. The feeling was fleeting, never staying for more than a day or so, but it made the day drag on. Never ending.

Your muscles sore, body aching from the lack of activity your presumed. Or maybe you had built it in your head too.

Thankfully for you, Nat was busy helping Bucky move into his new place the entire day. She asked if you wanted to help, but mentally you didn’t feel you would be useful for anyone. Simply, telling her you would hang back, claiming you had another an essay to write.

Which you did, you weren’t completely lying, but there was more than your sour mood to blame for your dismissal of social interaction.

You hated to be that girl, the one who needed the presence of men. Specifically, the company of one very beautiful, blue eyed one.

His absence in your life the past few weeks felt heavier on you than you thought it would. You knew from Sam’s intel he had been hanging out with Peggy more and more. He said the two of them were getting close, mercifully sparing you the details.

You hated it’s you’d become. A girl so damn struck over a boy who was giving his attention elsewhere. Upset you were though. Before even if he was busy between classes and his internship at the gallery, he would still text to check up on you.

Now, it was nothing but radio silence letting you draw conclusions on your own. Very, very dangerous territory for you to travel to.

Steve and you are just friends. Get. Over. It.

You thought you’d be alone the rest of the Saturday, especially since it was nearly midnight. Figuring Nat was staying over at Bucky’s and Wanda leaving earlier in early hours of the morning to see her boyfriend for the entire weekend.

Then, an incredibly drunk Steve stumbled into your quaint apartment, the thoughtfully sweetness in him blubbering out with the alcohol flooding through his system. It was like he was on overdrive. More than ready to crash at any given moment.

You had enough when Steve started shamelessly raiding your kitchen, but you remained on the couch attempting to maintain some distance between the two of you. He had a history of being incredibly handsy whenever he had bit too much to drink.

Stumbling his way over to you, almost tripping on the rug, until he was basically cuddling up to your side. His arms latched tightly around you, pulling you into him. Not spared a choice, not that you’d want one.

The security of being wrapped up to him wasn’t something you ever grew tired of. You don’t think there would ever be a time you would ever be capable of turning him away.

“I’ve missed you. It’s been too long.” His soft tone, penetrating the tiny resistance you held towards him. “Me too. I was starting to think you disappeared on me, bubba.”

“Never.” His iron grip holding so tight like he was afraid you’d slip right through.

“Is everything alright?” Trying to pull from him, but Steve seemed unable to let you go. You whispered in his ear, caressing his back.

“I think so.”

“Here, let me grab you cup of joe and some water. Okay? I’ll be right back.” Leaving him a kiss on the cheek, before heading him into the kitchen.

If you had been around him recently, perhaps you would be more in tune with how he was feeling. Then the guilt sept in.

“Sweetheart, do you know where the phone charger is? It’s not by the recliner.” You heard him shout, trying to stop your heart from hammering into your stomach.

Just make him some coffee, sober him up, until he crashes.

Steve always seemed to be a lightweight and somehow whenever he did decide to drink he always found himself routing his way into your home. You thought it was simply for accident alone. The bar he frequented at was only a few block from you.

The past few times he would just stumble into your bedroom, immediately passing out in your soft, silky sheet. Now, he seemed to have more pressing matters at hand.

“Check the drawers, Stevie. I think there’s one you left around here somewhere.” You grabbed the filters and the grounds out, brewing the coffee. Soon, with a black cup of coffee and a water bottle in hand you took note of just how quite he was being.

He was never this silent and it was freaking you out.

“Are you sure you’re o-”

Just like that.

Fuck.

Hunched over, practically on his knees, he read over the endless letters you wrote about him. Confessions never meant to be seen by him. You lost track of how many you had written over the past few years once realized how irrevocably in love with him you are.

He didn’t realize you had found him and you were suddenly paralyzed. Unaware of your presence he continued to read through them and his expression was unrecognizable. One you’d never seen from him before, and you didn’t quite know how to react.

No. He wasn’t grimacing nor did he seem to be elated either. He just stood there just like you, afraid what would happen next.

What did this mean for the two of you? Your entire relationship was purely riding on whatever happened next.

Softly, with a gentle hand, he sifted through them all like he was looking for something specifically. Steve let them fall to the hardwood floors as your shaking hands could no longer support the weight of the dainty coffee cup he had actually sculpted himself.

The glass shattering everywhere, several pieces making their way towards him, thankfully not fiercely enough to penetrate his skin.

Truly, you had never been more sorry than when he looked up at you with tears in his eyes. Threatening to spill over. Because of you.

You didn’t have to be told, you already knew.

Carefully, Steve stood up making his way over to you around the shattered mug. Still you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Simply just watching him until he was right in front of you — more silent than you’d ever seen him before.

“Those were about me. Weren’t they?” You nodded having no reason to lie other than to protect yourself from a rejection you been hoping to spare yourself from.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this. Or at all really.” Your resolve dropping instantly when Steve took a step further gripping by your hips, pulling you closer.

“Why not?” He questioned you, again. Almost like he needed a verbal affirmation of every secret he had just read.

Unintentionally, stealing your soul served for him on a silver platter.

“I know how you’d feel about me, Steve. It’s not how I want it to be and it’s okay.” You remove yourself from him, traveling to the other side of the living room. Suddenly, the apartment seemed suffocating with him in it. “I’m fine, Steve.”

Hearing him sigh in frustration only furthered your immense feeling of being a burden to him.

You’re just one more obstacle he has to deal with.

“One of them dated back for over two years ago. Two fucking years.” His harsh tone, piercing through you like a knife.

“I know. I should have told you.” You whispered, wishing you could disappear into any abyss that would take you. Deeply wishing you just didn’t have to endure for the rest of this conversation. Wishing you could have stopped him from opening that stupid drawer. “I tell you everything, but I just couldn’t bring myself to speak about this. Look at how you’re reacting? How could you blame me when every fear I have about this is justified?”

You really should have kept those elsewhere, not your open, public living room.

“Because it’s us. I’m always here for you.” He was still crying through broken words and you didn’t know why. Almost like you had shattered his resolve and his control leaving with it.

“Not lately. You’ve been otherwise occupied.” Suddenly find the plant in the corner of the room. It certainly weren’t trying to distract yourself from the insatiable cerulean eyes.

The breathtaking british woman wasn’t even here and as soon as she was brought up — there was a wall. Seperating, you from whatever was between the two of you.

“This isn’t my fault. You never said anything. How was I supposed to know you feel that way about me?” He tried to make his way towards you but you just stalked off in the other direction. Circling around the living room like a coward.

“It didn’t matter though, did it? You found someone perfect for you regardless of how you feel.” God, you wish he would just leave so you could let the dam break.

“No. You don’t get to do that. Since the moment I met you I only had eyes for you, but you never seemed like you were interested. So, I dropped it. Okay? You never left me a crumb to think you would ever want to be more than just friends.”

“You were my best friend. You still are. No matter how I felt, it could never outweigh the need I have for you to be in my life.” He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. Trying to figure out what was next for the both of you. Steve always had to initiate and this time was no different.

“Peggy told me tonight she wants to be exclusive.” His confession washing over you like a ton of bricks. Crushing you.

You really couldn’t have any ill feeling towards her, she was just doing what you lacked the courage and the tenacity to do.

“But I didn’t really know what to do.” He took quiet steps towards you, not wanting to spook you. He voice not no longer held the a warmth of teddy bear, but a man on a mission rather took over.

Steve kept quiet until he had you backed up into a corner, no escape route in vision for you.

“’Cause there’s this other beautiful woman, absolutely breathtaking — and I just I really needed to know how she felt. If I had known before,  I never would have gone anywhere else.” His hand caressing your soft, plump lips. Pulling on your bottom lip with his thumb, sending you into a frenzy.

“Then, I just wanted to forget about everything until Sam called me. Three beers deep, when he told me of a drawer filled with letters I should take a look at.” You could feel his breath on you, temple pressed against yours.

“I just need to hear you say it. Just once.” Taking it a step forward, intertwining your finger with his own.

“I love you.” It was all he needed as he sealed his own affirmation with a sweet kiss, inking your lips with all of his love.

#for the love of god let these tags work :/ #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #college!steve rogers #au #mcu #mcu fanfiction #fanfiction

[cm-top-10]

C.M. Top 10: Most Dark & Gore Scenes &/or Characters in Cartoon Series

Warning: The following top ten may contain possible spoilers for those who haven't seen newer series. This post may also contain forms of graphic violence & some gore scenes that maybe too much for you to witness. So for your safety & others do not look unless it's at your own risk.

You've been warned...

We all discover at some point in time that not everything you know is allover the rainbow. Most times we see things we can't unsee or learn dark secrets of someone you thought you knew your whole life. & sometimes we learn things the hard way. Or the messed up dark way...

So for this 1st dark Top 10 features the most characters with a dark histories, secrets or just straight up dark/gore scenes. Which character did you not expect to have a dark side? Sadly you be the judge...

1. Invincible - Omni Man beating his son to a pulp.

After learning the dark truth that was revealed to Mark about his father's true intentions. Nolan tells his son the truth about why he was sent to Earth & why he killed the Guardians.

Telling him the reasons why he's here was so he could eliminate any potential threat to the Viltrum Empire. & that he was raising his son not out of responsibility or heroics, but to have him as a bred soldier of the Empire to kill anyone who stood in their way.

& he wanted Mark to join their cause with him.

After Mark angrily refused to help him conquer the planet. Nolan nearly beats the life out of his own son & yells to the top of his lungs saying how pointless it is to protect his home world. While killing millions of innocent people in the process of their brutal fight.

However before he could finish him off, Nolan suddenly realized what he did to his own child & fled the Earth in machspeed, shedding a tear.

They say fatherhood is complicated, but not like this...

2. Castlevania Lords of Shadow - Gabriel's dark fate

While on his journey to slay all three of the Lords of Shadow. Gabriel slowly learned they were the founders of the Order & told him the truth of his order's true intention from each Shadow Lord who too were being used by the Brotherhood of Light. Then when he finally reached the final Lord of Shadow, he learned about his wife's death & fell into dark despair.

Over time his heart grew darkened. & knew nothing but bitterness & sorrow...

But after defeating the three Lords, Laura appears to tell Gabriel that he awakened another ancient evil known as the Forgotten One. Who had plans to destroy all creation & they had to venture to the Brotherhood's fortress to find the entrance to where he was imprisoned.

However only dark begins can enter the realm. & the only way he can bypass it's effects & to defeat this ancient evil, was to become one himself...

So Laura asked him to drink her blood & free her of her torment. Hesitant at first he did what was asked of her & dranked every last drop of her blood, until she died.

He then defeated the Forgotten One & saved mankind. But at a cost of his soul & happiness.

Thus becoming a vampire.

A vampire the world would soon know & fear as Dracul the Dragon.

But that is another story...

3. Baki the Grappler - Yujiro Hanma

As most know Yujiro is the world's most unstoppable & cruelest warrior in the history of fighters. Not even the U.S. Military dares to go near him. Yes Yujiro the Orge has struck fear into many people, even military personnel of different countries. & he did it with no weapons & has turned the U.S. into his personal playground for death & battles.

But the most cruelest thing he's done was ripping the face of one of China's most respected Kaioh masters while facing him in battle, testing his worthiness. The reason Yujiro did this challenge was not to prove his worth but to show all of China & their leaders that they are worthless to him. & showed them all that he doesn't care about their hatred towards Japan noir their worthiness.

& he struck that fear into all who witnessed Ryu Kaioh getting defaced & brutally defeated. Yes this is one man who's definitely going to hell & is going to smile about it.

Because Satan himself would be pissing his buttflap in his sights in fear. While Yujiro fucks his succubus wife in front of his face knowing how little fucks he gives about his "sins."

4. Primal - Sauropod Massacre

After being infected by the Zombie Virus. The infected sauropod becomes a mad rouge & slaughters it's own herd in a bloody rage & massacre.

It left no survivors, ripped them apart & destroyed many of the herds' eggs leaving nothing remaining...

Truly whatever zombie virus this was it drove this poor creature mad & didn't stop until everything wasn't breathing.

Luckily Spear & Fang were able to run it into a dormant volcano. Where the infected dinosaur burnt to ash.

Hopefully now the poor beast is at peace...

5. Star Wars Rebels - Master Luminara's remains

In the search for Luminara to replace Kanan to be Ezra's new master. They soon learned too late that her remains were being used to lure any surviving Jedi out of hiding. So that any Sith Hunters like the Grand Inquisitor would slay them on the spot.

Sadly no one knows whatever happened to her corpse after they escaped. Or if the Empire even still has her.

Rest in peace Luminara wherever you are...

6. Legend of Tarzan - Death of Clayton

While battling in the trees, Tarzan defeated Clayton by tangling him into the jungle vines. But during his blind rage he angrily swiped vine after vine, until one wrapped his neck. Tarzan tried his best to warn him, but in his rage Claton cuts the vine that he was holding on to.

Then after it broke they both plummet to the ground. Tarzan landed safely, Clayton however was hung from above by one of the vines wrapped around his neck after it snapped it straight out from the fall.

There truly are things worse than fate...

7. RWBY - the Death of Adam Taurus

After weeks of stalking Blake & her group. Blake had no choice but to confront Adam for the last time with the help of Yang. The battle was harsh, but in the end they managed to out-think him by stabbing him from different sides. One in his chest & one in the back.

He then fell to his death over a huge waterfall after hitting his head over a ledge before plummeting into the water. Hopefully they've finally seen the last of Adam Taurus.

But let's also hope he doesn't pull a Cinder...

8. TFP Beast Hunters - Predaking beats the scrap out of Ratchet

After using Ratchet to wipe out mankind. The Decepticons threw him into the frails of a vengeful Predaking. Predaking then beats & claws Ratchet, throwing him around like a rag-doll. Until he was ready to finish him off, luckily Ratchet convinced him to hear him out. & told Predaking the truth about what had happened to his Predacon army.

After he told Predaking that it was Megatron who ordered his race's extermination. He asks why he did so & Ratchet replys--

Ratchet: Being on the receiving end of your might. One theory springs to mind, Megatron fears you & any like you.

In his blind rage Predaking stormed his way to Megatron, wiping out anyone who stood in his way.

Which led to his own demise, but that is a story for another time...

9. JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Stealy Joe gets his ass beat by Jotaro

Now this slimy bastard got what he deserves. Not only did he try to humiliate & blackmail Jotaro into doing his bidding. This cocky motherfucker goes & threatens a random little girl out of the blue. If Jotaro didn't face him like a man & does what he says.

With him up to here with the man's assholeness, our boi Jotaro decided enough is enough & beats the ever loving shit out of this guy. & after punching him multiple times, he literally sends him flying into a wall & throws him his receipt.

Rest in Hell, Joe you worthless bastard!

10. The Falcon Captain America & The Winter Soldier - Captain America U.S. Agent gets his arm broken.

John Walker the former Captain America was given a mantle he wasn't worthy of. Don't get me wrong as much as I had my doubts of him, I was willing to give him a benefit of a doubt. That is until he soiled Steve's good name by using his shield to kill a man in cold blood.

During his blind rage of vengeance, he chased down one of the Flag Smashers & constantly beats him over-&-over with the shield. & then kills him with a fatal blow to the chest area in front of tons of people.

After he murdered one of the perps, Falcon & Bucky tried to ask him to hand over the shield peacefully...

You can take a wild guess what Walker's answer was. He then attacked them with rage & ego, losing his shit. However that ego died as soon as Falcon & Buck breaks his arm to get the shield back. He was then discharged by the U.S. government & was relieved of his duties as Captain America.

Not only that but he then found his way into a dark path he may not be able to uncross.

But that part is another story for another time.

Either way he got dealt some shitty karma.

#C.M. Top 10 #Top 10 #My Top 10 #Most Dark & Gore Scenes #Invincible #Omni Man #Castlevania Lords of Shadow #Gabriel Belmont #Baki the Grappler #Yujiro Hanma #Primal #Infected Saurapod #Star Wars Rebels #Master Luminara #Legend of Tarzan #Tarzan #RWBY #Adam Taurus #Blake Belladonna #Yang Xiao Long #Transformers Prime #Predaking #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jotaro #Stealy Joe #The Falcon & The Winter Soldier #U.S. Agent #my screenshots #cameraman screenshots

[kylosgenesis]

Teardrops on Fire

Synopsis:

Steve Rogers is the last Alpha of the an almost extinct Lycan pack. With only less than 100 members left. Steve must produce an heir to ensure the species survival and reduce the chance of attacks from others. Omegas are rare, and betas have a hard time producing children. Steves reality is finally setting in as his obligation of producing an heir faces a major set back.

Reader is the last suitable omega to mate with Steve, due to the fear of her daughters fate in the pack, her mother kept her hidden from the pack after her own exile. Only her mother, and Bucky's family know of her existence. Bucky is Steve's right hand man, and the packs best warrior! He and the reader developed a friendship and bond over the years, but age forced them to become distant.

What happens when she presents and her first heat cycle comes? Her body is in excruciating pain and a strong fever quickly overcomes her body. Facing the fear of her daughters possible death, her mom calls on the only person who can save her at this point, Alpha Steve! Bucky and the alphas friendship will be tested. The reader will be faced with her love for Bucky or her duty to the pack.

Chapter warnings : descriptions of death, abuse, blood, and mentions of miscarriage.

Chapter 2: Honey I tried

“When did it start?” Bucky was holding on to the edge of his kitchen table.He felt nauseated with the thought of her, sick and yearning, He couldn't even picture what she had grown up to look like, A part of him was scared of his own emotions.

“It hasn’t yet!”

“ At least not as of this morning.” her mother was breaking apart! Bucky could tell she was very scared and exhausted! He knew that her daughter's well being must've weighed heavily on her, he could see the physical manifestation of her pain. In just a few hours her nails had been bit to the core, and her tears streaks had left vivid and raw tracks around her cheeks.

“Buck! I know this is a lot to ask, but you have to tell Steve! Were worried she wouldn't make it otherwise. This will be her first heat”

He’d almost forgotten his mothers presence in the room, cause he turned around and met her eyes, tears streaming down her face. She'd grown fond of her friend's daughter over the years. After her own kids had left to form their own lives, she could still go to her and relive some memories of her little ones' younger days.

“I know! I'm still wrapping my head around it, but I know what I have to do” agitation surrounded his voice. He didn't know when his heart started to feel like it wanted to jump out of his chest or when he gripped the glass of water that was left on the table so hard it shattered, but it was evident that he wasn't going to be getting any rest that day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky parked his pickup in front of Steve's house. It was the largest house in the village, it wasn't Steve's choice, but he'd inherited it from his father, and his father had inherited it from his father before him. Being the house farthest away from the city limits, but right in the middle of the village meant Steve was protected, but could also be easily accessed.

Looking back at his passenger seat he saw Winnifred with her mom cradled upon her shoulder, comforting her best friend through the probably the second hardest day of her life.

“You should stay here Ma, I'll go get Steve” I know he’ll be happy to see you, but I still don't know how he'll react to her'' He opened his tool box on the bed of his truck and pulled out a large fleece blanket. Neatly folded he handed it over to his mother.

“Just keep her company till I come back”

The lights in Steve's house were on, but Buck could hear the sound of wood being shopped and Steve's grunts coming from the back of the property. As he reached his best friend's view, he took a deep breath. It was all gonna be different now, for all of them.

Steve had a large pair of headphones in, and was clearly a few songs deep into his playlist because when Bucky came around the corner; Steve almost lost a hold of the axe he was holding! Lookin at Buck he lowered his bulky headphones and stabbed the axe to the soft moody ground next to the small uncut piece of wood he was about to turn into lumber.

Steve's hair was not as long as Bucky's, and he had taken a liking to a neatly kept beard.

He grew it out as a joke at first! Clint dared him to grow it for a month, and after a month he'd grown fond of the style.So for the past year now, Steve looked less like a young soldier, and more like those lumberjacks from the cheesy romance novel covers his sister Rebecca loved to read.

“Hey Buck, didn't expect you around so late” Steve combed his hair back with his fingers. A nervous habit Bucky had noticed since childhood, especially when he had a lot on his mind.

“Couldn't sleep?”

Bucky was concerned for his friend, momentarily forgetting the reason for his sudden visit.

“ Banner called! Wanda was there earlier today, she wasn't feeling well. Turns out she was pregnant, and didn't know it!

“Steves that's awesome, when is she due ? we need to celebra…” as he looked into his best friend's eyes he saw the pain behind his look.

“She was miscarrying at the same time she found out she was pregnant, Buck. That's the third pup we've lost this year.I don't know how we're gonna get through this, It's getting harder and harder to keep everyone safe, and pretend we're not gonna be extinct in 50 years”

“Steve…” Steve's gaze was filled with a mixture of tears and rage. He took everyone's pain personally. And hearing about Wanda had awoken an unease within his soul. He couldn't fight the problem! How could a man used to protecting and fighting, deal with a problem that didn't require a fight?

“There’s an omega! She presented this morning!

“Who is she?”

“Remember Katerina? She … uhh … after she was exiled from the pack, she had a daughter!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 20 years ago

“We can't just let him die! We have to take him outside the walls! Someone out there can help him”

Joseph was the second in command to Benjamin Rogers. Two of the strongest alphas the entire western district had ever known. Both feared together, but explosive apart.

Benjamin had fathered a son 7 years earlier, a frail boy. He was often sickly and his future wasn’t promised! He wasn't meant to live much longer, the boy had once again woken up sick. A high fever overcoming his small body.

Benjamin had changed after his wife's death, he blamed the boy for Sarah’s death. A man that was once kind, and dedicated to his family, now lived like a wandering dark shadow inflicting cruelty against anyone that disagreed and crossed his path. His pack was strong! But there was no harmony, only fear.

Sarah had been a beautiful alpha as well as Benjamin. She had a hard time carrying Steve to term, at 7 months she fell bedridden and two weeks later, she had a seizure that compromised her pregnancy. Benjamin himself had to cut the boy out of his dying wife. That choice, as his wife laid there lifeless , covered in blood, and cut open like an animal awoke a demon in Benjamin. He saw death in his son's eyes, that is why he could never love him. He could never care!

Katerina took care of his young baby like her own, she had struggled to have a baby of her own so when Joseph came home holding a still bloody wailing baby, she fell madly in love with the small bundle in his arms.

The boy was small, but smart! He picked up words as young as a few months, and as a toddler he was incredibly gifted. Steve excelled in art, and even knees bit of music. Katerina loved to sit down and play piano! A young Steve would lean into her side and follow suit to her fingers on the side of the pano with his small hands. Joseph and Katerina watched him grow up, and took care of him.

Steve got sick often, but nothing too serious!

One day as she prepared breakfast she had a feeling of dread on the pit of her stomach, she ran upstairs to check on Steve and found him comatose on the bed!she wailed as she held her adopted infant son to her chest. Joseph came running to her after hearing her screams. He picked up the boy from her hands and loaded him into the car, with Katerina at his side he headed to Benjamin's house.

That was the first time Benjamin had seen his son since his wife died, his son himself nearly dead!

"Please Ben! He needs help! There's another pack two hours away, they have a doctor that can help him. She can heal him for good, please open up the walls so we can go to her! They both pleaded with Ben for hours, but to no avail!

The man was already covered in anger and reeking of alcohol, “Don't you dare challenge your alpha Joe! If I find out you defied me and left this territory you will never be allowed back”

Katerina couldn't let her boy die! With that warning in heart, she and her husband plotted to get little Stevie outside the pack territory, and to that doctor.

Behind Ben’s back, and knowing the consequences in his heart Joe called the Alpha from the neighboring pack, the other alpha had the resources ready for them to arrive in the morning. His doctor, a witch, was ready to give little Steve the life he deserved.

In the early morning of the night they sped their way through the woods. Once they reached the border a car awaited Rina, a beta from the fury pack was ready to take them to their pack.

Ben had closed the pack off to treaties when his wife died, he believed the world was dangerous and the pack was better off without interruptions, he couldn't even save his wife! His pack did not deserve to be mercied, they didn't deserve to live if she couldn't. So Ben slowly watched his pack become secluded and lost.

In the morning Ben, even drunker than the night before, had shown up at Joe's doorstep demanding to see the boy. Fully convinced he'd be dead by now, when Joe failed to produce an explanation as to why his wife was gone and so was Steve.

Ben lost it!

He called a pack meeting on which he publicly executed Joe, whether it was a display of power or just pure psychopathic joy. Joe’s death left the town broken, when Katerina came back with a healed Steve, she found herself widowed and exiled.

As a last sick jab into Joe’s heart even after his death, Ben took Steve!

As the years went by Steve forgot his early years, he forgot Joe and Katerina!

Steve remembered stories of his betrayal, her exile! How their actions forever changed a pack. He grew up kind, giving, and strong! Even if Steve didn't experience or know much love from his father, he was full of it!

And thanks to that witch both Katerina’s little growing heartbeat and Steve were stronger than ever!

Tags:

@austynparksandpizza @exposition-belongs-somewhere

#alpha steve x omega reader #alpha bucky x omega reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #omegaverse #a/b/o fic #a/b/o verse #steve rogers #bucky barnes #alpha steve rogers #alpha bucky #alpha bucky barnes

[inknopewetrust]

In Another Universe Part 3 (Marcus Moreno x Reader)

Summary: You are trying to normalize a world without Marcus, months after you snapped back to Earth. But in that other universe, an accident occurs in their mission to bring you back.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader (We Can Be Heroes/MCU Crossover)

Word Count: 2.08k

Warnings: Nothing, just some language. 

A/N: So... it’s embarrassing how long this part took to be published. If you’ll except an apology, I’ll be the first to beg for forgiveness. On the other hand... here’s part 3! Part 4 will be the conclusion of this miniseries so thank you for reading thus far and stay tuned for that. Right now requests are CLOSED but I am going to open them again soon when I get through the ones I have waiting and I’ll be adding L&O:SVU characters to the list. :)

Pain is a difficult concept to understand. 

There are infinite reasons to feel a certain kind of pain or to be in a specific kind of pain, but no one can truly understand it until it happens to them. Which in the case of you, is no one. 

At some point during the last five months, you had made a move to Clint’s farm. James thought it would be better for you to not be in the city where your closest friends were gone and weren’t returning. It was the constant memories of Natasha holding your hand when things got rough or Tony obnoxiously slapping you on the shoulder in a message of congratulations. 

There were so many memories that simply seeped through the walls, both physically and metaphorically, but it wasn’t as if a move was going to change that. All you wanted was to move, home, to Marcus and Missy and the life you had built in what James had called ‘Earth 2.’ 

Earth 2. 

Earth 2 was the only Earth that mattered to you and his deflection of it being secondary to the one that only caused pain was hurtful. But it wasn’t like he was going to understand that. So, you took up the offer to move to Clint’s farm and the second you landed and walked off the jet, you regretted the decision. 

Clint was surrounded by love. His wife, his daughter, his sons. They were everything and nothing to you at the same time. Clint had his own problems to deal with upon meeting a young woman who took up skills like his own and often left you with Laura and his children. 

Laura kept you occupied with small projects as they were renovating the barn and their basement, but it was just as mundane as the topics of conversation she tried to engage in. But with even the slightest mention of Nat, or Steve, or Tony, or the world you left behind, you shut down. 

It was intentional, but it wasn’t avoidable. Pain wasn’t avoidable when it was buried so deep. 

But there were the occasional good days. Like today. 

Laura had taken the boys to soccer practice and promised Lila a day out at the aquarium. She extended the offer to you but she never thought you would accept. When you did, she was pleasantly surprised and also promised she would pay for lunch too. It was rare that you would pass up the opportunity to snag a free lunch because you obliged and allowed her to plan the day. 

‘Maybe a day out would be good.’ You thought to yourself as you readied everything to go. For the first time in months you put effort into your appearance. A bit of makeup, nicer clothes, and shoes that weren’t scuffed or covered in dirt from the non-existent basement floor. 

And for what it was worth, the day was good. You allowed yourself to just enjoy, learn, and watch a mother interact with her daughter and in turn, the daughter made you feel like the aunt Clint had always told her you were. Lila saw the effort and wanted to make you feel as welcome and as loved as possible. 

And as the cracks of a broken soul begin to slowly merge together–where time would surely heal it to properly function again, a wrench is thrown to stop it. 

James Rhodes wasn’t sure how it exactly happened.

He had been standing against a lab table, watching Clint (the only other resident at the compound at the moment) work on his bow. The two were making small conversation about their day to day lives since everything had gone down just a few months ago. While Clint had just finished installing a replacement valve on the base of the basket that held his arrows. It hadn’t been turning properly and the only place that would have the parts was Tony’s former playground. Then an earthquake occurred... or what they could equate to an earthquake.

Neither of them had ever been a witness to one, but the ground shook violently, quickly, with little give. Parts fell off tables and the two men grabbed at whatever they could to remain steady. By the time they had steadied themselves, the movement stopped. It was followed then, only then, by a loud crashing noise about a floor below and glass breaking. Clint was the first to reach for his bow and James grabbed the closest gun he could find. Neither of them thought anything other than “my god, what Thanos level shit is it now.”

Like the sleuth heroes they were, they managed to silently exit the lab and descend the stairs without so much as a creek. The living space that was located on the third floor was relatively untouched but the sound had echoed from the room. As soon as they turned around from the steps, they realized their suspicions were correct but it didn’t look like a Thanos level threat.

Behind the couch, the broken lamp that had no bulb laid on the ground beside a man. A man dressed in black tactical gear and swords sheathed on his back. He had other small weapons on his clothes but none of them were drawn and from the reflection of the glass window, Clint could see a perplexed look on his seemingly worn face. Although he didn’t feel the man was particularly threatening, Clint drew up his bow and held it steady from his position before calling out to him.

“Put your hands where I can see them.”

Cheesy, he knew it was but he wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know where the hell this guy came from and he could easily be a sorcerer or God even though he looked like a regular Joe.

“Sir, I need you to show us your hands!” James was more assertive from behind Clint but didn’t move from his position. Ever since the accident years ago, James took a step back whenever he didn’t have his armor on.

The man had flinched a bit upon hearing their voices. He slowly raised his hands as asked and turned around to meet the eyes of two men who he had never met. Their weapons drawn on him but not unfamiliar to other situations he had been in before. This time, it was just more human.

“Who are you?” The one with short hair, a bow, asked him with a hesitant, gruff voice.

“Where am I?”

The man spoke their language—maybe not an alien.

“I asked you first who are you?”

“Where am I? Where is-“

“I do not want to have to shoot you, who are you?” James was aggravated, perhaps a little scared but he wouldn’t shoot unless the man made any aggressive moments toward them.

“M-Marcus. My name is Marcus.” Marcus’ voice was firm but scared. He didn’t know where he was. It was all an accident. One minute he was testing the machine and the next he was moving through a kaleidoscope of colors until he saw a blinding light and landed on a lamp in the middle of a futuristic looking living room.

There was a moment of realization in the bow-wielders face that gave Marcus a second of hope. Had this really worked? Was this your world?

“Alright Marcus, I am going to need you to tell me where you came from and how you got here.” The one with the gun in Marcus’ eyes began to move around the one with bow. He held out his hand calmly, signaling to Marcus that he wasn’t a threat but was protecting himself and his friend out of precaution. Marcus did not move his hands but nodded in agreement. What did he have to hide when he was now in an unfamiliar land with weapons pointed at his chest? 

“I don’t know how I got here. I work for a team and we were trying to get someone back. I was working on it but something went wrong.” 

“Do you know where you are?” 

“No.” 

“Who are you looking for?” 

“Our teammate.” 

Clint knew it was him. This had to have been the man you talked about with him and James was getting that sense as well. He was exactly as you spoke, handsome with a slight carelessness to his appearance. He had a mustache and his name was literally Marcus. It couldn’t have been anyone else, though they had no idea how in the universe he found his way to the middle of the Avengers living room. 

“Marcus, I am going to ask you a series of questions I need you to be honest with me.” Clint put down his bow this time and James looked at him with wide eyes but continued to hold his stance. 

“Does your world look like this one?” 

Marcus took a second to let his eyes drift out the windows around them. The world looked similar, almost an exact copy. He had remembered your startled realization that his world was just as similar to your own even though it wasn’t the same one. It was a strange concept that was hard to grapple with. 

“Yes.” 

“Do you have a daughter, Marcus?” 

“What?” This absolutely terrified him. As much as he wanted to be hopeful to find you, a mention of his daughter in a new world was not what he wanted. Now the question if he even escaped his own world and found himself in a new one was wavering. These people couldn’t possibly know he had a daughter unless they were familiar with the Heroics. 

“Do you have a daughter? I need you to answer this so I can-” 

“Yes. Yes, I have a daughter.” 

“Missy?” 

Marcus nodded his head and Clint looked at James who lowered his gun now. This was that Marcus. This was your Marcus and he was here to find you. 

“And what can you tell me about Y/n?” 

His heart leapt out of his chest with a fury at the mention of your name. 

“She’s my-my she’s-” 

Clint nodded his head and officially dropped his bow before extending his hand for Marcus to shake. 

“My name is Clint Barton, maybe she mentioned me, I don’t know. But she’s talked plenty about you.” 

“She’s here?” It came out just above a whisper as he met Clint’s hand. 

“Y/n is with my wife at our farm. I can take you to her.” 

It was like that final stretch of battle you had described to him before. This was his endgame, his chance for peace with you and the friends you left behind for years are willing to help make that come true. Much to his word, Clint prepared a jet to set off to the farm and James kept Marcus from stirring alone in his thoughts. It wasn’t as if the reunion would be soured because the relationship ended, no, quite the opposite, but the idea that maybe you would rather stay with the people who you had always been around was an invasive thought. James had eased those thoughts with stories of your return and subsequent difficultly to adapt to this life. That wasn’t an easy thing to hear, but it meant that somewhere inside you, you believed that life was better with Missy and himself. 

James reassured him that you were very much in love with him. You had told the two of them about your “other” life, about the team, Missy, Mrs. Moreno, and everyone else who made that other world home. 

Home. 

By the time James had gotten around to recalling the moment you had realized you loved Marcus, Clint had come back, gathered his own bags and motioned to the jet. 

“Looks like he’s ready to go.” James said and gave Marcus a friendly pat on the shoulder. 

“She deserves to be happy and I know with you she’ll have that. It’s what they would have wanted.” 

“Thank you for your help. I don’t think I would have found her otherwise.” Marcus chuckled but couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face. It was a contagious one because the two men couldn’t help but feel the love the radiated off the man. They were happy for you and if leaving this world for another meant you would finally be at peace, then that is what it meant. 

“Go get her, Marcus.” 

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

Tag list for series: 

@pasckles @jupitersmooneuropa @agingerindenial @karnita-mexicana @mcueveryday @shadowolf993 @computeringturtle @roxypeanut​

#marcus moreno #Marcus Moreno x OC #marcus moreno x reader #Marcus Moreno x you #we can be heroes #Netflix We Can Be Heroes #We can be heroes x Reader #x reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x oc #netflix #x female reader