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#OH THIS VIBE IS EXTRAORDINARY
radishayuan · 2 years
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no but frankly i find it offensive that kang ki young has not been casted as the ML in a romcom yet
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lovepaintt · 2 years
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THE WINDOW HAND SCENE IS SO MUCH CUTER THAN I EXPECTED
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judasisgayriot · 2 years
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🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️  Peter’s queer/trans vibes  🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️
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celaenaeiln · 8 months
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Something fanon gets wrong
Dick Grayson is genuinely one of the greatest fighters in all of DC.
I know people have trouble believing this for some reason but a man who has defeated every single one of his enemies, other people’s enemies, and has consistently come out on top should have his abilities talked about a bit more because they’re amazing.
Let's start small to big. Firstly Donna talks about Nightwing's abilities.
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When I read this I was confused by what she meant. Prowess means skill or expertise and that makes sense but Dick has a lot of power behind him though...
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And then I realized she meant metaphysical power.
Dick isn't a magician. He can't run at supersonic speeds, throw buildings, speak to animals, communicate with the dark, fly above the clouds, bounce bullets off his chest (Oh, wait. He can do it off his ass instead never mind), turn into animals, or other amazing abilities. But his skill is so high that he is easily able to keep up with people who can.
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M'gann, the white martian with extraordinary capabilities, tells Dick, "You are just a human, with no superpowers, yet you have consistently excelled throughout your career, despite being surrounded by godlike beings."
This is incredible.
We see Dick leading teams of superheroes and metas all the time and we take it for granted but we never acknowledge the immense power and skill he must have for him to be able to do this.
Repeatedly. Time after time. He outsmarts both his human allies and outfights his meta ones.
One of Dick’s greatest OP moments is when he takes down the entire Titans team -Gar, Raven, Donna, and Jason too when he hung around with them- single handedly. And when Jason put a gun to the back of his head in supposed victory, Dick opened his hand to let the golden bullets fall, gleaming in the light with the coldest line, “with these bullets?”
We all know how amazing Bruce is, but Dick is on Bruce's level.
No?
Okay, here's the evidence.
Dick has fought Azael in a sword fight to a standstill when Azael has beaten Bruce separately and Tim and Jason combined.
He has defeated Ra's in a sword fight and Ra's is one of the greatest swordsmen.
Sometimes he doesn't even need a sword to defeat a skilled swordsman.
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He's a League of Assassins member and we all know that anyone from the League of Assassins is never just good. They're excellent. The entire fight Dick is looking for Blockbuster and he's so capable and good at fighting the entire scene was like watching Thanos flick Captain America away vibes. He's not even looking at him when he smashes his foot into Shrike's face!
Most importantly, he has defeated Deathstroke
The greatest thing about Dick is he is able to defeat Slade at the peak of Slade's abilities. Slade doesn't need to be weakened for Dick to win.
Here's where people has some hesitance accepting Dick's abilities.
"Bruce has defeated Slade but Dick has never been able to!"
He literally has in Dark Crisis but I'll give you the lead up.
Dick can easily disarm Slade.
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He can predict Slade's moves ahead of time and properly counteract them.
He can go toe to toe with him and in one comic, they dance down a hallway, fighting, neither able to get the upper hand. The mercenary meta, considered by the US Government to be 1 of 2 greatest assassins (the other being Katana) isn't able to pin down and defeat a 20 year old despite his enhancements.
I left out the scene where Dick twisting Deathstroke's arm and smashing his face into a bedroom mirror despite being complete weaponless and in his civilian identity. No protection and no support. But it's another example of how Dick's poweress is much greater than people expect of him.
Of course there are panels where Dick has been defeated by Slade but Dick isn't 17/18 anymore. He isn't learning to fight without Batman hovering over his side.
Also there is a panel everyone references to when talking about Nigthwing losing to Deathstroke. This one.
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sure. okay. whatever. BUT WHY WON'T YOU SHOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT COWARDS?!?
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THEY DANCE-FIGHT LIKE THEY'RE ENEMIES IN A BALLROOM ON OPPOSING SIDES BUT CAN'T AFFORD TO LET ANYONE FIND OUT.
THIS IS SOME HIGH LEVEL JAMES BOND-RED NOTICE-MISSION IMPOSSIBLE- TYPE SHIT.
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"Close the hold, you morons! Close the--Guuk!"
That's Slade talking by the way. To his allies. Who do you think made him "GUUK!"?
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And here they were evenly matched.
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But Slade had to pull out bombs he had been saving for when other people came in order to defeat dICK AND HE STILL LOST BECAUSE DICK BESTED HIM.
Yup. Dick is just that good.
Nightwing defeated Bane
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Before you go into saying something like "it was a holographic construction." What the fuck difference does that make? Does a holographic construction alter the strength used by the enemy, change their fighting style, phase through when fighting, act dumber than the real deal? No, right? The fact is Dick broke Bane's back the exact same manner that Bane broke Batman's. All those scenes of Bane punching Nightwing around? Let me remind you that the guy snuck up on Dick. The second time Dick underestimated Bane's powers before getting ready to put in real effort before Batman interfered to take Bane for himself.
All those amazing scenes of him defeating enemies that we've scoffed at recently? They're just a continuation of what already is written. It's not new or unbelievable, it's expected.
Here's my final point. Dick has defeated all of the Justice League's enemies in one go.
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This is Batman/Superman comic where Kara gets infected so Dick as Batman sends her to the medbay while he tears down the Watchtower to save her. As in every single defense mechanism the Watchtower has, he demolishes it with his pure skill and abilities. Furthermore, the Watchtower defenses were enhanced by cyborg Superman to be lethal. To kill on sight.
Just. Phenomenal.
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He did it! He defeated all of them and made it to the electronic controls he was aiming for.
Another thing I want to point is Dick's strength is greater than what people assume it to be.
He's the world's greatest acrobrat and has a build fitting of that but the strength he packs in his body is equal to that of a meta. Maybe it's because of how he only fights with metas and has teammates that are all metas but he has raised his striking power to equal that.
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He shatters cyborg superman in one blow.
He can handle blows from meta humans in a way most others can't which suggests to me that he must've done some kind of training or have maybe increased pain tolerance or have the ability to backseat the pain so it won't affect his fighting. How many can take a hit and rise up the next second?
He's not metahuman. Batman must've done several tests because he also was amazed by robin Dick's poweress lol but really Dick is just extraordinary. Give him any enemy and he will garaunteed defeat them without using cheap tricks or surprise moves which is why he is one of the greatest. The only time people have gotten an upperhand on him is when he has been emotionally weakened. Emotionally. Imagine the absolute monster he would be if he controlled his emotions like Batman.
But I would never want him to though because his emotions are the reason why he's the light of DC.
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bitchiswild · 4 months
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Ride
GP Yoo Jimin x F! Reader
Warnings: smut, creampie, racing , and probs other things 🤷‍♀️
Word Count: 6.8k 😟
A/n: A LOT OF PLOT AND A LITTLE SMUT 😭
╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮
The night unveiled the mesmerizing beauty of the city as Karina and I zoomed through its streets. The motorcycle's roar echoed, seemingly announcing our presence to the entire city. Yet, in our youthful spirit, we disregarded it. Karina had injected adventure and excitement into my life, making every moment extraordinary. She's what makes my days and nights awesome, always bringing joy. I gotta thank Aeri for introducing me to Karina, even if we didn't hit it off right away.
•·················•·················•
“Wanna come along?” That’s all she said. Life always seems to dangle something new in front of me. Aeri pitched this idea, and I had no clue what was in store. Mysterious. But I trusted her completely; she’d been hustling and making some cash. It was our little secret. A game where the risk just added spice to the thrill. Kind of sketchy but exhilarating, you get me?
“You sure this is the right way?” I asked cautiously. We were heading down these shady, dimly lit stairs where the lights flickered oh-so-slowly."
"Yeah, I know the way. Been here a few times, no sweat!" she assured me, continuing down the steps.
As we got closer to the door, the music’s volume surged. Stepping inside, the booming bass hit us hard. The place was a riot of colorful lights, but there was this pervasive mix of gasoline and weed smell that wasn't too pleasant.
"Is this your usual weekend scene?" I quizzed Aeri.
"No doubt, I do. I'm here to help Karina gear up for her races," she said.
"Are you finally gonna introduce me to this Karina you're always on about?" I inquired.
"Absolutely! I'll take you to her now. Or would you prefer to check out the place first?" she asked.
"Let's take a look around first," I replied.
Aeri gave me the grand tour of this spot. I soaked it all in, kinda interested in this whole new vibe where everything's a bit of a gamble. It's all about the danger and excitement, you know? I find it pretty intriguing. This place, right before the race starts, it's got a vibe. But I did however, noticed how everyone's eyes are on us.
"Hey, what's with all the staring? Starting to weird me out a bit," I mentioned to Aeri, feeling a tad uncomfortable.
"They all know I'm friends with Karina. She's, well, let's just say she's a big deal around here. They call her the 'Queen' of racing," Aeri explained, and it all clicked for me.
"Can we bail, though? Feeling a bit too conspicuous," I suggested.
"Sure thing! Let's get you introduced to Karina; you two will hit it off, I'm sure!" Aeri exclaimed, ready to make the intro.
Aeri dragged me to this garage, all bright and half-open. She went and knocked on it like a maniac. ‘Karina! I'm here! Did you miss me?!’ Aeri shouted at the top of her lungs.
“Aeri! Keep it down! Get in here already,” the girl I figured was Karina snapped.
Aeri nudged me to step in first. I crouched a bit and walked into the garage. The garage was alive with various colored lights, yet one glaring light outshone the rest. Posters and tools adorned the walls, while a car occupied one side and a motorcycle sat on the other. The girl I presumed to be Karina was busy fixing something on the bike.
“Karina! Meet my bestie Y/n! Y/n, meet Karina!” Aeri introduced us, gesturing between us."
"Hey, Karina, nice to meet you. Aeri's told me loads about you, and don't worry, I won't spill anything that might get you thrown in jail," I said, immediately regretting my choice of words.
"Hi," was all she replied before returning to her work on the bike, leaving me feeling a bit like a fool.
Naturally, I felt offended. I wanted to confront her, but I held back. I hardly knew her and picking a fight with Aeri's friend wasn't the right move. It'd make me a lousy friend.
"Don't stress, Y/n. Karina's just... like that. She's very... monotone, but she's cool. Give her some time to warm up to you. Honestly, I didn't spill that I spilled everything about her illegal racing," Aeri explained with an awkward grin on her face.
“ It's fine it didn't bother me," I lied, though it bothered me more than I let on.
"So, Karina, when's your next race?" Aeri asked.
"In about 30 minutes. You heading out or sticking around here in the garage?" Karina inquired.
"Since this is Y/n's first illegal race, I'll probably stick around, cheering you on alongside her," Aeri nudged me while saying that.
"Alright, let's head out. I'm all set," she said, wrapping up the final touches on her bike.
We all made our way out of the garage, heading toward the main event. Karina revved her bike, riding off towards the street where the race would take place. The way people glanced at us left me feeling intimidated. Despite my smile, fear crept in. This was uncharted territory for me.
"Hey, Karina! What's up! Ready to race?! There's a hefty pot riding on you, lots of folks betting," a guy shouted as he approached us.
"Absolutely, BamBam. I'm always geared up to win some cash," Karina replied with a grin.
I never thought this girl smiled, but here she was, flashing a smile in front of me. It was kinda cute.
"Awesome! Just remember to stay safe, can't afford to lose our top racer, aka our 'Queen'," The guy I now know as BamBam added.
"Who's that guy? Her boyfriend?" I asked Aeri in a hushed tone.
Aeri stifled a laugh. "Nah, not her boyfriend. That's her childhood friend. They grew up together, got into street racing, and he's sort of her manager. He always bets on her because he knows she'll win. Also, Karina's gay and has a dick," Aeri explained frankly.
The last sentence caught me off guard and I took a double take at Aeri.
“She has a dick??,” I blurted out in surprise.
"Yeah, she was born with it. Why, wanna hop on it?" Aeri quipped, giving me a smirk.
I was flabbergasted! “What? No way!" I exclaimed.
"Sure, just saying, you're not the only one. Lots of other girls here do too," she casually replied.
"Alright, alright, let's stop talking about her dick," I said, eager to change the subject.
"Stop talking about my what?" Karina chimed in, joining our conversation.
I was horrified. If she overheard our discussion, I'd be mortified.
"Your bike," Aeri quickly interjected, coming to my rescue. "Y/n here was just saying how much she liked it but wanted to stop gushing over your bike."
"Thanks," Karina replied, giving me a stare that made me cough in awkwardness. Why did I suddenly feel so awkward? I needed a shot, maybe ten.
"Anyway, I came to tell you guys that the race is starting soon, so get to your spots. And remember, don't accept drinks from strangers. Have the bartender made you the drink, alright?" Karina instructed us.
Can we grab a drink, Aeri? I seriously need one after that almost-embarrassment," I admitted, fanning myself to emphasize the point.
"Sure thing," Aeri replied, leading me towards the bar.
Once we had our drinks, we headed towards the restricted area where only people acquainted with Karina were allowed. There was a large TV screen displaying Karina, geared up with her helmet on, ready for the race. Her eyes reflected unwavering determination, making me equally certain she'd emerge victorious.
The audio from the scene was clear, capturing a guy beside Karina yelling that she was going to lose. Karina, unfazed, remained focused, displaying even greater determination. A girl emerged onto the street, holding a red flag. Raising her arm, she brought it down swiftly, marking the start of the race.
The race unfolded rapidly. Kai, the guy I just learned the name of, initially took the lead, but as they reached a sharp turn, Karina surged past him. Watching her on the screen, it was evident—she had a natural talent for this. Her movements on the bike were graceful, navigating every turn effortlessly. I finally understood why people bet on her. Yet, watching her gave me a mix of sensations, tingling feelings that I couldn't quite decipher—was it anxiety or something else?
As they approached the finish line, it was a dead heat. Anxiety crept up on me, evident in my shaking leg. I desperately hoped for Karina's victory. Beside me, Aeri seemed absolutely chilled, not a speck of doubt in her eyes. I couldn't help but wonder why she was so composed. "She knows something," I muttered to myself, suspecting that Aeri had an inside track on this.
Right after that thought, Aeri did the exact thing I suspected she knew about. With a simple press of a button, Karina's speed surged, propelling her faster than before, and she breezed across the finish line.
When Karina hit that button, everyone was stunned by the speed she picked up. But as soon as she crossed that finish line, the crowd erupted in cheers. Aeri and I jumped to our feet, cheering, hugging, and bouncing around in joy. Karina had not only won the race but also scored a substantial amount of prize money. BamBam, having won all the bets he placed, was also celebrating his success.
After breaking on her bike and removing her helmet, Karina was engulfed by a swarm of well-wishers. Aeri and I maneuvered through the crowd to reach her. Aeri led the way, offering her congratulations with a pat on the back, while I stood there beaming at her. Our eyes met, and she returned a small grin. For me, that was enough. Her eyes spoke volumes, brimming with excitement and joy.
As things settled, Karina gathered her winnings, and we trailed back to the garage together.
"That was one of your finest races in a while!" Aeri praised.
"Thank you. I really appreciate you guys being there, cheering me on," Karina replied, a grateful expression on her face.
"So, when's the next race?" Aeri inquired.
"In two weeks. I need to get some more parts for my bike, upgrade it, and also visit my mom to give her some money," Karina informed us.
"Speaking of your mom, how's she doing?" Aeri inquired.
"She's still working, despite me telling her to retire. That woman is just too stubborn," Karina replied, shaking her head.
"Just like you," Aeri teased with a smirk.
"Hey! I have my reasons, alright?" Karina retorted with a slight glare.
Before Aeri could reply, her phone rang. 'I'll be right back,' she said before leaving Karina and me alone. 'And now there are two,' I murmured to myself.
"So, Karina, you did an awesome job out there! I was really impressed by how you clutch in the end. I was so anxious the whole time, rooting for you, and I just wanted you to win and I was so worried—" I started to ramble.
"Y/n!" Karina exclaimed, gripping my shoulders and staring at me. "Calm down, you're rambling," she urged, trying to rein in my chatter.
Her sudden touch caught me off guard, bringing an unexpected closeness that felt like we were almost within kissing distance. I shook my head, trying to dispel those thoughts. "Sorry... that happens when I feel awkward or anxious," I explained.
She withdrew her hands and kept staring at me. "It's fine, just take a moment. If you need to ease your anxiety, try dunking your head in ice-cold water. That might help," Karina suggested calmly.
"I'll keep that in mind for next time," I replied.
Karina returned to her bike, resuming work by taking parts off, fetching tools and components from her workbench, and moving back and forth between them. Lost in my thoughts, I scanned the garage, wondering where Aeri had vanished to.
"You know, you can sit, right?" Karina's voice startled me out of my reverie. I glanced at her, finding her staring at me and pointing to the chair nearby.
“Oh right, sorry,”I sheepishly grinned in response, taking the hint and finally sitting down. I couldn't help but keep glancing around the garage, occasionally stealing quick looks at Karina. The silence became unbearable, prompting me to break it.
"Do you need any help?" I offered, hoping to engage in conversation.
"Nope," she replied bluntly.
"Can I help you, though? I can't stand this silence, and I want to do something," I persisted.
"You can sit and be quiet," she repeated, smirking as she glanced up.
I remained silent, pursing my lips and continuing to observe her.
"Please, let me help!" I pleaded, growing desperate to do something.
"Fine, come here," she finally relented. I eagerly approached her, thrilled to lend a hand.
"I'm giving you a very big responsibility, okay? Now, hold the flashlight and don't move," Karina instructed, handing me the flashlight.
I felt disappointed; holding the flashlight was something my dad always made me do, and I often got yelled at for doing it wrong. Nevertheless, I was doing something, and for the next 20 minutes, I held onto it diligently. Finally, Aeri returned from her phone call.
"What the hell?! What took so long?" I exclaimed at her, still clutching the flashlight.
"Y/n, hold the flashlight correctly!" Karina interjected. "Oops, sorry," I apologized and adjusted my grip to hold it correctly.
"Sorry I took so long; it was an important call I can't go into details about right now, but I promise it's nothing bad," Aeri explained.
"Okay, I hope everything's alright," I replied.
"Everything's good. Are you ready to leave? Because I am," Aeri asked.
"Yeah, I'm ready," I confirmed, turning off the flashlight and handing it back to Karina.
"Alright, let's go. Bye, Karina! See you soon!" Aeri called out as she exited the garage.
"Bye, Karina, till then," I called out. As I began to duck my head under the garage door, I caught her saying goodbye.
"Bye, Y/n," I heard Karina's voice say as she continued tinkering with her bike.
"Alright, let's head back to our dorm. Don't worry, you'll be back; this is just the beginning," Aeri reassured me as we made our way back toward the stairs we came from.
•·················•·················•
It's the following day, and a strong urge pulls me to return to the garage. I'm not sure why I feel this way, but the desire is there. After getting ready, I head towards Aeri’s room to check if she's around, but her neatly made bed indicates she's probably left for class.
Deciding to go on my own, I recall the location and remember that Aeri had sent me the address. Gathering my belongings, I leave the room and start walking towards the destination.
I'm in the stairwell, making my way down toward the familiar door Aeri had led me through. As I approach, I notice the music still blaring, but today, the neon blue lights replace yesterday's vibrant colors. I glance around before heading toward Karina’s garage.
Suddenly, a random guy yells, "Hey, Beautiful! Come over here and sit on my lap!" I choose to ignore him and keep walking.
"Come on, I know you heard me! Come here!" he yells out again, this time patting his lap in an insistent and uncomfortable manner.
"No thanks, I'm good," I firmly replied, trying to maintain my course toward Karina’s garage.
But, as expected, the guy persists and ends up blocking my way. I look up at him, my expression blank, while he grins down at me. "Can I help you?" I retort, my arms crossed and an attitude evident in my tone.
"Yea, I asked you to do something but you didn't," the musty guy states.
"Yea, I know," I respond bluntly.
"You know... I don't take no for an answer," he declares, his tone suggesting an intent to push the issue.
"And? I do not care," I reiterated, my arms remaining crossed.
He made a move to reach for my arm, but thankfully, a familiar voice intervened. It was Karina. I felt a surge of relief; I was beginning to get anxious at the thought of him grabbing me.
"Nate, what are you doing?" Karina's voice addressed him directly.
"Karina! Hey! I was just trying to get this beautiful lady to sit on my lap and do other things if you know what I mean," Nate replied with a suggestive wink, trying to play it off.
Karina's expression turned serious. "Actually, she’s with me, and she is off-limits. I do not want you anywhere near her," Karina asserted firmly, setting a clear boundary.
"How come? I'm just having some fun," Nate retorted with a smirk, clearly not taking Karina's instructions seriously.
"I don't care. She’s off-limits. Now leave!" Karina's tone grew firmer, her frustration evident.
"Yea, sure, see you around, beautiful," Nate said, smirking as he began to walk away.
Karina gripped my hand firmly, concern evident in her eyes. "Are you okay? What are you doing here by yourself? Do you realize that if I wasn’t here, things could've gone bad? You can’t be here without me or Aeri, got it?" She guided me towards her garage, still holding my hand.
"I know. I'm sorry. I promise not to come here without you or Aeri," I assured her.
"You didn't answer my question. Why are you here?" She pressed for an explanation.
"I just wanted to continue helping you with your bike. Also, I had no class today, so I decided to come here," I answered honestly.
"You came all this way just to help me with my bike?" she asked incredulously.
"Yeah, why not?" I replied casually.
Karina chuckled in disbelief. "Okay, fine, you can help. Let's get started," she agreed.
And so, that's what we did. I began coming by every other day or whenever I had free time to assist her in preparing her bike for the upcoming race. Over time, we started enjoying each other's company, engaging in light conversation. However, we hadn't broached certain topics—things I wanted to know, like why she started street racing. I chose to keep those questions to myself, saving them for another day.
One such day, I had no class and was free. I had Karina’s number now, so I texted her beforehand that I was heading to the garage. She mentioned she'd meet me at the door, and true to her word, that's where she was. We walked together towards the garage, and she let me enter first before following. "So, what are we working on today?" I inquired.
"Nothing, because we are finished!" she announced with a grin, a familiar expression that I had come to adore over the past two weeks. That grin, when directed at me, felt unlike any other.
"Really? You finished it?" I asked in amazement.
"No, we finished it," she corrected, her grin turning into a warm smile.
I mirrored her smile. "Does that mean we get to go on a test drive?" I was thrilled at the prospect of riding the bike after investing so much effort into it.
"Of course! Here, let me get you a helmet," she offered, fetching one for me. She returned, placing the helmet on me. The visor was closed, but a simple click opened it, and suddenly, Karina was gazing into my eyes.
"There you are, hi!" she greeted with a grin.
"Hi back," I replied, returning her greeting. She continued to gaze at me for a moment before turning to retrieve her own helmet, securing it in place. Walking over to her bike, she mounted it first, signaling for me to climb on behind her.
Once I was on, I instinctively held onto the sides of the bike, but Karina guided my arms around her stomach, encouraging me to wrap them securely. I held on tightly, feeling the firmness of her toned stomach, grateful that she couldn't see my blushing face.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
"Of course," I replied, trying to mask any hint of nervousness in my voice.
She ignited the engine, and it roared thunderously, the sound reverberating throughout the garage. As she opened the garage door, the engine revved, and we surged out. The speed we gained made me hold onto Karina even tighter, a sudden fear gripping me.
In my helmet, I heard her voice. "You okay back there?" she inquired.
"Wait, how am I hearing you so clearly?" I asked, puzzled.
"There's Bluetooth connected to the helmets," she explained.
"Ah, that’s nice. And to answer your question, yes, I am okay, just a bit scared at the speed we're going," I confessed.
"Do you trust me?" she asked.
"Yes," I replied without hesitation.
"Then everything will be okay," she assured me, continuing to ride out of the tunnels and onto the main road.
As we navigated through the city, Karina's voice came through the helmets. "I want to take you somewhere, will you let me?" she asked.
Her proposal made my heart melt; it was a simple yet profound request. "Yes, take me wherever you want to go," I responded.
"Okay, thank you," she replied, steering toward her chosen destination.
We ascended a hill with a breathtaking view of the city, but Karina kept driving until we reached our final stop. She parked the bike, removing the key, and got off first. Extending her hand, she helped me dismount as well. "What is this place?" I inquired, following her closer to the view.
"It's a place where my dad brought my mom to confess his feelings to her. It was his spot, and even before that, it belonged to my grandma. After my dad passed away, my mom brought me here because I couldn't get over his death. She shared all their stories with me, and we laughed and cried together," Karina explained, her voice carrying the weight of memories.
I hung onto her every word. Karina paused for a moment before continuing.
"She also told me to come here whenever I feel stressed out or just need to connect with my dad in a way. So that's what I did. I was here last night, seeking guidance. I asked him if I should go forth with something, and I got the answer I wanted," she said, smiling warmly at me as she spoke.
Karina's revelation left me speechless. I sensed there was more she wanted to express.
"There’s another thing Mom told me about this spot. She said if I wanted to confess my feelings to someone, I should come here. It’s a place special to me, where my dad and grandma did the same in the past," she explained, her gaze fixed on me.
My heart raced at her words. She took hold of my hands. "Y/n, over the last two weeks, my feelings for you have grown. It started when I saw Nate getting too close to you. I realized then that I’d do anything to keep you safe. I've cherished every moment we've spent fixing my bike. I’ve come to realize that I have feelings for you. Please, tell me you feel the same?”
I was taken aback by her confession, my mind racing as I processed her words and the depth of my own feelings.
I was taken aback. Karina's confession of her feelings caught me by surprise, but it filled me with joy to know that the emotions were mutual. With heartfelt honesty, I replied, “Karina... from the moment your smile caught my eye, I felt something special. The time we've shared, every moment, it's made my feelings grow stronger. I do feel the same way. I'm grateful you feel it too.”
As Karina's hand cupped my cheek, her touch was gentle yet filled with longing. Our gazes locked, conveying emotions words couldn't express. I leaned into her touch, feeling the warmth of her hand against my skin. In that silent exchange, the air thickened with anticipation. We moved closer, our bodies drawn together by an invisible force. When our lips finally met, a surge of electricity ran through me, setting my nerves on fire. My heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervousness, mirroring the intensity I sensed in Karina. Every heartbeat seemed synchronized, creating an unspoken harmony between us. I withdrew my hand from hers, instinctively wrapping both around her neck, drawing her closer and intensifying the kiss. Simultaneously, her hand moved to the side of my stomach, tracing gentle, reassuring circles. The passionate exchange stirred a whirlwind of emotions between us, each moment pulsating with raw feelings. As the kiss deepened, the need for air became undeniable, forcing us to reluctantly break apart, breathless and exhilarated.
We were both breathing heavily, savoring the lingering sensation of the kiss. I opened my eyes first; Karina's remained closed, a charming smile gracing her face. When her eyes finally met mine, we shared a moment of laughter, both in disbelief and excitement. Karina reached out, taking my hand. "Come on, let's go do something fun," she said, smiling warmly.
I grabbed her hand, and we sprinted back to her bike. She swiftly handed me the helmet, planting one more kiss on my lips before securing the helmet over my head. With her helmet on, she mounted the bike, extending her hand to help me get on. I wrapped my arms around her waist, holding on tightly as she revved the engine and guided us to our next stop.
This time, cruising through the city felt different—carefree, even. I felt lighter, more alive, and undeniably happy, all thanks to the girl in front of me. As we reached Imperial, a nightclub, Karina dismounted first and helped me off the bike. She handed the keys to the valet, grasped my hand, and led me confidently toward the entrance. We bypassed any need for IDs as Karina was familiar with the bouncer.
After arriving, we beelined to the bar for drinks. Shots flowed freely, and we lost ourselves in the music, dancing together all night. Carefree and spirited, we moved to the beats, laughing and enjoying the moment. Eventually, we somehow made it back home, and waking up there, I was grateful that we'd safely returned.
I woke up in a room that didn’t seem familiar, but seeing Karina next to me put me at ease. Glancing around, I noticed a picture of her and BamBam on the nightstand. It was Karina's room. I felt a moment of panic, worrying we'd gone too far last night, but a quick check under the blanket revealed I was fully dressed. I sighed in relief and stole a glance at Karina, peacefully asleep beside me. She stirred, and I found myself captivated by her face. She slowly opened her eyes, catching me in the act.
“What a lovely sight to wake up to,” she said, her morning voice soft and gentle.
I grinned and leaned in for a kiss. She reciprocated, but before it could linger, she broke away. “As much as I'd love to, let me brush my teeth first.”
“Karina, it's fine. Come here,” I insisted, trying to pull her back for another kiss. With a laugh, she evaded my grasp and dashed into the bathroom, teasingly repeating, “No, let me brush my teeth!”
I stayed seated on her bed, chuckling at her playful antics, before eventually rising and making my way to the bathroom. While we brushed our teeth, our playful nudges and giggles made it feel like we were back in high school.
Once we finished brushing our teeth, we moved to her kitchen and decided to make some food. Karina prepared some eggs and toast, a simple yet satisfying breakfast.
“Y/n,” Karina said, breaking the calm ambiance of the morning.
“Yeah?” I responded, looking up to meet her gaze.
Her eyes held a mix of adoration and nervousness. “Will you be my girlfriend?” she asked, her voice slightly wavering.
My heart fluttered in excitement. "I would love to be your girlfriend," I replied, rising from my seat to give her a passionate kiss. She returned it with equal fervor.
Breaking the kiss, she took a deep breath. "There's a race tonight. I want you and Aeri to be there, please," she requested.
"Absolutely, count on us!" I assured her.
"Great! You guys are like my good luck charms in a way, so I need you there," she said, gently rubbing my sides.
The tension was palpable as the night settled in. Karina had her eyes set on a significant prize this time. Winter, her competitor, was no ordinary racer, having secured victories at a level matching Karina's own accomplishments. When I inquired if Karina felt nervous about this race, she assured me of her composure, having previously met Winter, who seemed amiable.
As we arrived at the garage, the atmosphere crackled with a blend of excitement and anticipation. Aeri and I joined forces to help Karina ready her bike, meticulously tuning every detail for optimum performance. Meanwhile, Karina engaged in a serious conversation with BamBam, strategizing about bets and fine-tuning her approach for the upcoming race.
"Think Karina's got this one in the bag?" I asked Aeri, passing her a wrench.
"I'm not entirely certain this time. Winter's no joke. She's a fantastic racer, saw her work before, and it's impressive," Aeri replied, adjusting a tool.
“She’s really that good?” I inquired, surprised by Aeri’s statement about Winter.
“She’s just as good as Karina,” Aeri confirmed.
Karina returned after her conversation with BamBam, drawing me in for a quick peck to express gratitude for cleaning her bike. Before I could respond, Aeri interjected playfully, demanding her own acknowledgment for the help she'd provided. Karina indulged her with a forehead kiss, a smirk playing on her lips.
Aeri teased about being the matchmaker, observing Karina and me embracing each other. As the moment of the race arrived, BamBam's booming voice signaled Karina to prepare, redirecting everyone's attention to the impending competition.
“Alright guys, let's go race,” Karina announced, setting the momentum for the upcoming event. As we made our way to the race track, Winter appeared, engrossed in conversation with some acquaintances. Aeri departed momentarily to fetch drinks while I stayed by Karina's side.
Karina sought to park her bike beside Winter’s. “Are you okay waiting here for a bit?” she inquired.
“Yes, I'm good,” I replied as she moved to position her bike. In the meantime, Winter approached me. “Hey, what's your name?” she asked with a smile.
“I'm Y/n, and you’re Winter,” I responded.
“That’s me! So… why is a beautiful girl standing alone by herself?” Winter questioned, her expression playful.
“Oh, just waiting on a friend,” I answered casually, trying to keep things light amidst the anticipation of the race.
“How about this? You and I go somewhere together after the race is done?” Winter proposed, her tone playful.
“Umm-” I hesitated, feeling a rush of panic. Where was Karina when I needed her?
“Oh, come on, I don't bite… unless you want me to?” Winter flirted, her demeanor teasing.
"Karina!" Relief washed over me as she arrived, once again coming to my rescue.
"Karina! This is your girlfriend?" Winter's curiosity was evident in her gaze toward both of us.
"Yes, she is." Karina confirmed, wrapping her arms around me protectively.
Winter eyed Karina's protective gesture and then smirked. "Okay then, your girl is a fine dime. I want to make a bet. If I win, you break up with Y/n, and she comes with me. If I don't, we can act like this conversation never happened," Winter proposed, extending her hand for a handshake.
“Deal,” Karina said, her tone firm, as she shook Winter’s hand.
“Great doing business with you,” Winter said with a smirk, winking at me before strolling toward her bike.
My heart raced with disbelief and hurt. “Karina, seriously? You’re just going to let that happen?” I felt betrayed, hurt that she would entertain such an idea without discussing it with me. I began to turn away, but Karina caught hold of my hand before I could leave.
“Y/n listen to me,” Karina pleaded as she held onto my hand.
I stopped but didn’t turn around. “No way. I can't believe this. You’re willing to throw away our relationship just like that,” I exclaimed, snapping my fingers in frustration. “We haven't even been together for two days, and now you’re betting on me? If you lose, I’m as good as gone,” I said, my anger palpable, trying to control the quiver in my voice.
“I did it to protect you.” Her voice cracked with an unexpected vulnerability.
“Protect me?” I turned to face her, frustration and confusion mixing within me.
“Winter... She’s a ruthless racer, and she’s been known for her tricks off the track. I couldn’t risk anything happening to you. I had to agree, but believe me, I never meant it. You mean more to me than anything else, Y/n. Please, you have to trust me on this.”
Her words struck a chord, but I was still shaken. “How could you make a deal like that without even discussing it with me?”
Karina's expression softened, remorse clear in her eyes. “I know, and I’m sorry. I panicked. Please, I’ll figure out a way. I won’t let anything happen to us.”
I hesitated, the hurt mingling with understanding. “You promise?”
“Absolutely. Trust me, okay?” Karina pleaded, her eyes pleading for forgiveness.
I sighed, torn between emotions but wanting to believe her. “Fine.”
She pulled me into a tight hug. “Thank you, Y/n. I promise, I’ll fix this, I’ll win the race for you.”
“I don't want to discuss it further. Let’s just focus on the race. I’ll be there with Aeri cheering you on,” I said, my hurt evident as I gave Karina a peck on the lips before walking over to Aeri, who had our drinks.
“What happened between you and Karina?” she asked, noticing Karina's sad expression.
“She and Winter made a bet about our relationship,” I explained.
“What kind of bet?” she inquired, eyebrows furrowed.
“If Winter wins, Karina and I have to split so I end up with Winter,” I revealed.
“What? Why would she agree to that?” Aeri exclaimed.
“I have no idea, but she’s asking me to trust her,” I replied.
“Okay, then let's try to trust her.”
The race commenced as Aeri and I fixated on the screen, watching Winter and Karina revving their engines atop their bikes. A girl emerged, brandishing a red flag. As she dropped it, signaling the start, the engines roared to life, and the race began.
Initially, it was a tight competition, neck and neck, but Winter skillfully claimed the lead. Her bike navigated every twist and turn effortlessly, gaining ground with ease. Karina trailed closely behind, mirroring Winter's prowess as they maneuvered through the course.
As the race unfolded, it became evident that Winter's racing skills were formidable, just as Aeri and Karina had indicated. The tension mounted within me as I fervently rooted for Karina to win. My feelings for her grew more pronounced with every twist and turn. I didn't want to end up with Winter; it was Karina I truly cared about.
Karina surged ahead at one point, fueling a flicker of hope, but it was short-lived as Winter swiftly overtook her. They were now neck and neck, closing in on the finish line. Karina managed to match Winter's pace, riding side by side. Both racers shared a momentary gaze, a blend of determination and grit in their eyes, each vying for victory.
My heart raced with anxiety as they neared the finish line. Winter had a slight edge, but Karina's resolve was unmistakable. The atmosphere was electric as they crossed the finish line simultaneously, leaving us all in suspense, waiting for the official outcome.
"Did Winter just win?" I asked myself in disbelief, falling to my knees, hurt by the outcome.
"Wait, wait!" The announcer's voice boomed. "Let's have a replay!"
As we watched the replay, it was clear: Karina's wheel crossed the finish line first. "Karina won!" I shouted in jubilation, Aeri joining in.
The crowd erupted into cheers. Karina removed her helmet, smiling. Winter approached her, extending her hand. "Good race, Jimin," she said.
Karina shook her hand, replying, "Good race, Minjeong."
Overwhelmed with emotion, I ran towards Karina, enveloping her in a tight hug. "You won," I said, still in disbelief.
"I told you to trust me," she said softly.
"I'll always trust you," I replied, pulling her into a passionate kiss.
The kiss was interrupted by Aeri's arrival. "AYYY, Karina!! YOU WON!!" she screamed, rushing to hug her. But then, Aeri punched Karina's arm hard.
"Ouch! What was that for?!" Karina exclaimed.
"That was for accepting the bet," Aeri retorted.
Karina sighed. "At least I won, and it's over now."
"Yeah, it's in the past. Let's focus on the present and work towards the future," I chimed in.
Karina went to collect her winnings, and we all headed back to Imperial to celebrate her victory. Imperial was alive with music, and we lost ourselves in the beats, dancing and reveling in the energy of the night. Karina and I moved together on the dance floor, the heat of the room adding to the charged atmosphere. The way she looked at me sent shivers down my spine, her desire unmistakable.
As our bodies moved in sync, the electricity between us intensified. Karina leaned in close, her voice a seductive murmur in my ear. “You look amazing tonight,” she whispered, her hand tracing a tantalizing path across my skin.
Unable to resist any longer, I pulled Karina closer to me, breathlessly murmuring in her ear, “Let's get out of here.” I could see the immediate spark of desire in her eyes as she eagerly took my hand, leading me out of the club. Outside, she hailed a cab, and within 10 minutes, we arrived at her house.
Pressing against her door, our passion intensified. Karina momentarily paused our embrace to unlock the door, and as soon as it swung open, she pushed me inside before closing it firmly behind us. We resumed our fervent kissing as we made our way upstairs to her room.
Karina shoved me onto the bed and removed her bra and shirt. She returned to kissing me, making tracks with her lips as she kissed down my neck. She broke the kiss and gripped the bottom of my dress,asking for permission to take it off. And I let her. I reached back to unhook my bra when she removed my dress. Allowing it to descend before me. After everything was off, she teased my nipples and kissed every part of my body, leaving as many traces as she could.
With my panties still in the way, she began to kiss her way down my body, reaching closer to my heart.
"Please," I whimpered.
Karina pulled down my panties and planted a kiss on top of them. began removing her boxers and pants. "Anything for you baby.” She muttered.
She gently brushed her cock's head on my pussy. “Fuck baby you’re so wet. Who makes you this wet” Karina Moaned.
"You!" I groaned, "Please, Karina, do something.
She began to break my pussy apart with her cock as she pushed it through my hole. She groaned, "Fuck you're so tight," and began to thrust in me. I felt amazing the way Karina was touching all the right places inside me. "Harder," I moaned.
Karina pounding me harder. We both moaned loudly. I was getting close. “Fuck Karina I’m close” I gasp out.
She groaned, continuing to thrust, "Me too."
I groaned, "Fuck Karina, you feel so good," as tears streamed down my cheeks from the pleasure she was giving me.
"Baby, where do you want it? Karina groaned, "Where do you want my cum?"
I moaned out, "Please cum inside."
Karina pushed herself closer to me. She reached down to my clit and gave it a few rapid circular rubs, and that was it for me.
I cried, "Fuck Karina, I'm cumming."
“Cum for me baby” She husked.
I squeezed Karina’s cock while I came hard. Sending her over the edge, she shoot ropes of cum into my pussy painting my walls white. I groaned at the warmth. Karina stood steady inside me for a second before releasing her grip and pulling out. She takes a deep breath and settles down next me, drawing me very close to her chest.
“Sleep now, beautiful. I’ll see you in the morning,” Karina whispered, planting a gentle kiss on my forehead.
•·················•·················•
“Hey, whatcha thinkin' about?” Karina asked, gazing at me with affection. We had just arrived at our spot. I hugged her tight. “Just thinking about when we first met, that's all,” I replied.
She leaned in for a peck. “Thanks to Aeri, I met the love of my life,” Karina said, smiling.
“Agreed,” I chuckled, drawing her into a kiss.
“I love you, Y/n,” she murmured against my lips.
“I love you too, Jimin.”
╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯
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popsicle-stick · 1 year
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I'd love to hear about your coloring/pose choices once you post your turnarounds ~
oh! well, while i'm here, i might as well post what i have so far
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(the first 2 turns are their initial look, the third is their final look)
so! with jonathan, i initally went for a homely, warm look - he's fresh and a little nervous, kitted out in travelling gear that i'm sure he (and/or mina) bought especially for the occasion - i feel like he hasn't gone much beyond england before. i admit i was kind of spiteful and stole the red scarf from the league of extraordinary gentlemen's mina - which made this discovery from the milwaukee ballet version all the more serendipitous! by the end, he, like everyone, is in funeral gear, but he retains the scarf - it's matted and covered and grime, but it stays there. it helps break up the black, but also, it could maybe stand for a lot of Thematic Motifs, like love, sex, transgression, and, uh, blood. take your pick. also - not that important and it's hard to see, but i hc him with dark grey eyes, and when his hair changes, i really like the idea of his eyes becoming paler and washed out looking.
for mina, i wanted her to seem to seem unremarkable on first glance, but if you look closer, her outfit is supposed to be slightly masculine, with the waistcoat and collar. that's as much as she allows herself, though. she's a woman in a financially and socially vulnerable situation, and so i feel like she's someone who cares a lot about how she presents herself, and i wanted this to show. for her end-of-book look, i wanted her to match jonathan somewhat with the vampiric vibes. in her case, it's literal, so i took her eyes from a dark brown to deep red, and she's a very uncharacteristic mess. in both cases, i feel i was maybe a LITTLE on the nose with the dracula-eque vibes at the end, but whatever! who cares. she can wear what is essentially a red silk-lined dracula cloak because she should be able to have a bit of vampire swag in this testing time
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elenafromthesky · 4 months
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Elena, Lestappen Art Queen, did you do a NSFW Charles on his knees beside Max fanart?!! Please, I’m begging you to share this undoubted masterpiece with us, or link it if I was silly enough to miss this!? 🙏🏻❤️
Oh wow, hey! ❤️ I like it when you call me Art Queen haha 😅
Well, there's nothing extraordinary about it, just gives different vibes. It's kinda nsfw...ish? I posted it on lestappen discord channel, because I thought it's not for everyone. I think it's ok to post it in a reply. So here you go 😌
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missmaywemeetagain · 1 year
Text
Pink Scarf - PART 18.2 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)
Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)
Requested: kinda
(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)
Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]
TW: Sex. SO MUCH ANGST. Medication/drug use/overdose. Dub con (sort of?). References to medical trauma, miscarriage, infertility. Blood. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  
Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 16.3k (LOLOLOLOLOL)
A/N: Y'ALL, I'M SO SORRY, it's a monstrosity. I couldn't help it. There was just so much to be said while still in E's POV, so that's how we ended up here, over 16k. But we finally learn Elvis' BIG SECRET and experience the mighty fallout from that in his eyes, so hopefully it's worth it. This is my Thanksgiving gift to all of you, but you may want to pace yourselves. I feel like I had to rip my heart out a little bit to really get in E's headspace. Prepare yourselves emotionally. That's all I will say.
A quick note about the pictures...the first is actually from when he bought Graceland in March 1957 and it just works PERFECTLY for the beginning. I couldn't resist the pics from Red West's wedding in 1961, even though I know the timeline and the people don't match but the VIBES, the VIBES my friends, are oh so Jack and Reader's wedding so I just had to include them. The one for 1960 was taken the night of the Rollerdome. *sob*
If you so desire, you should now have the ability to tip my blog or different chapters in the story! Some of you have been asking about this, and of course, no one is obligated to do so! If you do choose to tip, thank you so much! I've never had anyone want to pay for my work before, so this is a big step towards my romance novelist dreams. 💜
Speaking of Thanksgiving, I am so FREAKIN' GRATEFUL for every single one of you babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE EXTRAORDINARY which is always evident but especially so when someone tried to steal PS last week and y'all went 'ride or die' for me instantly, without question, getting it taken down in record time. I didn't in a million years expect this kind of support and response for Pink Scarf, and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋
If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!
I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 
Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 
(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my AO3 account, as well as my NEW Wattpad account. so if you are so inclined, you can check it out/support me over there with kudos and votes and whatnot!)
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(Elvis in March 1957, Graceland)
March 1957
Elvis parks in front of your house, his mind whirling with noise. He’s not exactly sure how he ended up here, but as soon as he’d gotten off that train, he knew he needed something that he couldn’t get from any of the guys or even his mama. So, he finds himself unexpectedly here.
Turning off the car, he seeks any sort of relief from the heartache he feels. He’s been holding it all in since the train stop in New Orleans, the one that sent the world crumbling under his feet, destroying the pretty picture he’d had for the future. But all that is gone now and here he sits, hands tapping on the steering wheel with nervous energy.
He nods to himself, finally leaping out of the car, and then he saunters down the walkway to the front door. The chime of the doorbell can be heard through the door, and he listens carefully, grateful to hear light footsteps from beyond.
When you open the door, it’s like he can breathe again for the first time since the train pulled away in New Orleans. You look surprised to see him, those big eyes of yours widening the slightest before you speak.
“Elvis, you’re home?” you ask with a hint of confusion, but overall, you seem pleased at finding him on your doorstep.
“Just got in, baby,” he says, that boyish smile curving up. He gathers you up into a big bear hug and instantly feels better as he breathes in the unique scent of your shampoo and lingering perfume. A scent that feels like home.
“And you came right here?” you ask, brow furrowing when he pulls away. He notices that you look a bit worn around the edges, darker circles rimming your eyes as if you haven’t been sleeping well.
You’re right to be confused. Of course, he hadn’t planned to see you right away. He’d planned to sweep June off her feet in New Orleans, wanting to show her Graceland immediately, the home he’d thought they’d share together for the rest of their lives. But all that had been dashed as soon as she’d blurted out that she was engaged to another man. Engaged. His June.
“I want to show ya something,” he blurts out instead of saying any of this. “It’s a surprise! Will ya come?” Oh, god, you have to come, he thinks. His heart might shatter if you don’t, though he’s not exactly sure why. You’re not his—you and Jack have been dating for nearly a year—so it’s not as though if you don’t come that it really means anything. Yet, still he hopes. He needs this. He needs to share this moment with someone he cares about.
Despite the fatigue in your eyes, you nod quickly, and then as if you can’t leave the house fast enough, you grab your purse and coat and shut the door behind you without a word.
He smiles gratefully, and relieved, he grabs your hand and practically skips to the car. Once he has you tucked in safely, he runs around the front of the Cadillac, jumps in, and peels away. It’s not too far of a drive, and he yammers on about the last few months he’s been away, the words flying out of him. You nod and ask all the right questions, but he notices that you are pensive, quieter than usual.
His verbal diarrhea halts for long enough for his brain to take into account that you don’t seem your usual self, and he asks, “Are you okay?”
You look down at your hands and then out the window, as if contemplating if and how much to share, which makes him a little nervous. Your fingers twist in your lap.
“Honestly? It’s been a hard few weeks, E,” you finally say, still unable to meet his eyes. “My nana passed last Tuesday.”
He’s mortified that he’d just been going on and on about himself and here you were dealing with such a loss. “Oh, darlin’, I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t know. I know how close you two were,” he says remorsefully, reaching his hand over to clasp one of yours.
You shake your head, sniffling back tears. “It’s okay, you’ve been away. There was no way for you to know. And I keep telling myself that she’s in a better place now, but that doesn’t really help all that much. I guess it still doesn’t seem real.”
He nods, because he can’t seem to think of anything to say that will make any of this better for you. “We can do this another time, baby, if you’re not feeling up to it,” he finally gets out.
“No, no. I need something to do instead of moping around the house. I’m worn from being sad and worrying about the rest of it. No, I’m glad you showed up, E. I can’t wait to see your surprise,” you add quickly, trying for a smile.
“The rest of it? What’re you so worried about, baby?” It’s obvious you don’t expect him to pick up on that because he sees the quick look of panic that flashes over your face at the question, so he’s quick to add, “I mean, you don’t hafta talk ‘bout it if ya don’t wanna, but I can tell somethin’ else is weighin’ on ya.”
“You could say that,” you sigh, raising your eyes to the roof and back down again. The twisting fingers are back. “God knows I haven’t been sleeping, and it’s giving me these terrible headaches.” You pinch the bridge of your nose for respite. “I…well, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to tell you, Elvis, because it’s about Jack, and I really don’t want him to think I’m running around telling everyone our business.”
A warning rush rolls over him at this because he suddenly and very desperately wants to know what has happened with Jack, and that is a dangerous game for all kinds of reasons, many of which he’s not ready to admit to himself.
“I swear and cross my heart I won’t say a word, if you wanna tell me,” he says instead, a little too eagerly, so he quickly adds, “If it’ll help ya feel better and all.”
He forces himself to watch the road and not you, but he can practically hear your mind whirring.
“Oh, fine, but not a word out of you to anyone, Elvis Presley, I mean it. I know how bad you are with secrets,” you glare at him.
“I promise, I promise!” he concedes, crossing his heart. “I swear on my mama!”
“Well, in the midst of all this with Nana, I found out that Jack was dating other women a while back while we were going together. Apparently, I thought we were exclusive, but he didn’t, and well…” you trail off bitterly.
Elvis has to bite his tongue and bite it hard because somehow this wasn’t what he expected, and oh, lord, he knows too much for comfort.
Thankfully, you take this as him listening intently, because you continue, “I know I shouldn’t be too mad at him. I suppose it’s an honest mistake, seeing as maybe we didn’t communicate clearly enough about where we stood with each other. But it was so obvious to me, and I don’t understand how it wasn’t obvious to him. It’s not like I was going around with other guys all the time! I know it was months ago, but damn if it doesn’t really sting. Part of me feels like such an idiot, you know? What else don’t I know about him and what he’s doing? It just makes it hard to trust him, even though he was truthful about it when I asked.” He can sense the conflict in you, as your voice fills and shakes with the emotion of your held-back tears.
His heart is beating fast now, and all he is seemingly able to do is nod furiously, as if agreeing vehemently with all you are saying. The problem is that Elvis is complicit in all this and you have no idea. You have no idea that he was the one who pushed the showgirls onto Jack when he came to visit him in Vegas in November. You have no idea that “dating” didn’t have much to do with it at all. And now he feels altogether shitty for being the one to put Jack in that position in the first place. He’d managed to spread his own unfaithfulness and debauchery right on over to Jack, and now you are the one paying for it.
Shit.
Although, knowing Jack, it’s also possible that there was other dating happening, too. Either way, Elvis knows he’s got to tread real careful here and needs to keep his trap shut.
But Elvis can’t stand that hurt look in your eyes when he dares to take his eyes off the road to glance at you. He hates how angry and sad you look, the blue-black circles under your eyes conveying your distress.
And his emotions feel complicated, too complicated for comfort. He suddenly wonders if he didn’t present Jack with those temptations on purpose because there is a very deep and selfish part of him that desperately wants you to kick Jack to the curb for this, and that terrible, selfish part of him wants you to finally see Elvis in the same way he sees you.
Maybe there’s a reason that things didn’t work out with June, that voice pokes at him hopefully.
Stop that shit right now.
All this is playing through his head and leaving him outwardly silent. He realizes he has to say something, anything, because you are waiting for him to do so.
“I-I’m sorry that happened, ‘specially finding out at the same time as all this with your Nana. W-What are you gonna do about Jack?” he says, trying not to gulp.
He watches your eyes narrow and then he quickly looks back at the road. He can feel you shift in your seat.
“I…well, right now, I wanna pummel his brains out, so I told him I need some space to figure out what I want to do. I just—I thought we…” you trail off dismally. “I don’t want to go through this again,” you add quietly.
Elvis knows you are talking about Ted. Stupid Teddy who stepped out and got Judy Cole knocked up and then left you brokenhearted in his wake. It still pisses him off, even though he knows he’s got no right to judge Ted, not now, not after all the foolin’ around he’s done.
But when it comes to you, he can’t help but be protective. It’s in his bones, the way he wants to take care of you. In fact, he wouldn’t mind punching Jack in the face right about now for hurting you like this. And he’s even more pissed at himself for his part in it all.
Elvis just wants you to be happy and to be with a man who deserves you, and deep down, he doesn’t know if that man is Jack, even though he loves Jack like a brother. But the real problem is he’s not sure if he thinks any man will ever be good enough for you.
But his brain is wary to dwell on the meaning of that, wanting to avoid anything else that feels uncomfortable, so instead, he lets the excitement of showing you his new home overshadow any other unwanted feelings he might be experiencing.
“Okay, baby, we’re almost there, so close your eyes,” he says excitedly, changing the subject abruptly, before pulling up the long drive.
“Alright, Elvis, this better be a big surprise with how hyped up you are,” you chuckle, letting the mood turn by doing as you are told.
“The biggest,” he breathes, sliding to a stop in front of the Colonial mansion. “Don’t open your eyes yet! I’ll come around!”
You wait until you hear the car door open and feel his hand take yours. He gently brings you out of the car to standing, an excited energy vibrating through him.
“Okay, darlin’, open!” he drawls dramatically.
You do, blinking out the early Spring sunlight. He watches your face light up as you take in the architecture.
“Oh my god, Elvis, it’s beautiful,” you say in awe. “Is it yours?”
“Yes, baby, it’ll be all mine very soon. And for Mama and Daddy, of course,” he adds hastily, as if you’d thought he’d abandon his parents.
“Of course,” you smile, looking at him with those pretty, though tired, eyes of yours. “Can we go inside?” you ask.
All he can do is nod excitedly. Elvis takes your hand, pulling you up the steps and past the huge white columns on either side. He can’t unlock the door fast enough, the keys rattling and shaking in his hands. Once inside, he pulls you through the house, mouth running a mile a minute about what he wants to do in each room, how he wants it to look.
Finally, you make it to the top level, the last room. “This is gonna be my bedroom,” he rambles on. “I’m gonna get the biggest bed you’ve ever seen in your life, made special.”
You gently pull your hand out of his, and he watches as you take a small pill bottle out of your purse and pop two of the pills before downing them dry. Aspirin, probably, for the headache you were talking about in the car.
“E, stop a minute,” you say. “This is all amazingly wonderful and beautiful, and I am so excited for you, but…well, what exactly am I doing here?” You look at him with curious and concerned eyes.
“I…uh…I…,” he stammers, unsure of what to say or how to say it, as it’s all been spinning inside for hours and hours. He looks away, unable to meet your eyes. He certainly doesn’t want to put any of his stuff onto you, not now, not after what you told him earlier. His hands fall to his sides, and he shakes them, wiggling his fingers like he does to come down after a show. It doesn’t help. There’s just too much emotion rolling through him all the sudden.
You step to him, first putting your hands on his shoulders, then you run them gently down his arms before grabbing his flailing hands, absorbing some of that wild energy. The feeling still manages to send little electric shocks through him, even after all this time. Only then does he finally still and dare to look at you.
“E, what’s wrong? You let me talk earlier, so why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?” you ask, your eyes searching his, open and concerned. He should’ve known you’d see right through him. Maybe that’s why you’re here, because he knew you’d understand, that you’d be able to tell he wasn’t okay when no one else cared to.
It takes a moment for him to gather his words as his emotions get in the way. Emotions he stoically hid from the guys the rest of the way to Memphis. Emotions he pushed down when he saw his mama because he just couldn’t bear to break her heart yet with the news. God, he’s spent so much time recently learning how to hide everything real about himself in order to become the man everyone wants him to be. But here, now, with you, it all begins to overflow.
“I-I-I told June to meet me in New Orleans. I-I w-w-was gonna bring her back here, to show her w-what I-I wanted to buy…for us,” he says, bouncing on his toes, tears welling and clouding his vision. He hates how it’s tearing him in two to say this.
You squeeze his hands, urging him to continue, and for you, he does.
“But when I-I got there, she was acting so strange. There w-wasn’t much time and, uh, she told me she’s engaged to someone else.” He blinks and the tears run over, finally spilling down his cheeks. Saying it out loud suddenly makes it feel all too real. His chest aches with betrayal, with loss.
You look at him with such care, though you do not look shocked at this news.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, E. I know you how much you loved her,” you say, squeezing his hands again gently.
‘Loved.’ As in past tense.
“Did you know?” he asks suddenly, stepping back, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
You take a conscious deep breath. “No, I didn’t. But she did call me a few times wondering where you were, if you were okay. She said she hadn’t heard from you in months…” you say awkwardly, petering off.
“Aw, shit,” he curses, running a hand through his greased hair. A wave of anger rolls through him, burning him from the inside, but as much as he wants to put it on June and her spiteful engagement, he knows the anger is mostly towards himself. He fucked up. He fucked around. And he’d expected June to just sit back and wait for him while he did it. He didn’t even make the time to call her.
And you know what he’s done. He can see it on your face. He looks down, unable to meet your eyes.
You don’t speak. You don’t lay into him or tell him he’s an asshole, although it might be better if you did. God knows he’s already thinking it. You just look at him with sadness and understanding and forgiveness, even though he doesn’t deserve it.
With that ache in his heart, he finally realizes that he couldn’t have loved June the way he said he did and then leave her hanging like that. But he did love her…at least, he had. They’d had such a beautiful summer together and he was sure he wanted to marry her, once his fame was settled. Three years, he’d told her.
Shit, I didn’t even make it six months, he thinks absently.
And then everything changed almost overnight. His fame exploded. There was Hollywood, then Vegas. And the girls, good god, there were so many beautiful girls who wanted him, needed him, who threw themselves at him. He’d been weak. He hated being alone. He couldn’t help it. It was just sex, he’d told himself, just a way to blow off steam as his world became smaller and smaller and nearly suffocated him. A thousand excuses run through his head, but in the end, it was his choice not to pick up the phone. It was his choice to screw around, to live this life.
It’s no wonder that June moved on, he thinks. I’m a first-rate asshole.
“Y/n, I messed it all up,” Elvis finally chokes out. The sob fully breaks the dam holding him together, the pressures of his fame and the realization hitting him like a truck: he is never going to be able to have that normal life with a wife and kids he’d once dreamed of. His knees buckle under the weight of all of it—his decisions, both good and bad, the fame he doesn’t know what to do with, the unexpected consequences of this privileged but isolating life he’s chosen.
He sinks to his knees, defeated, on the carpet of his future bedroom, the one he’ll probably never share with someone who loves him for who he truly is. Because he isn’t just Elvis Aron Presley anymore—he is “Elvis Presley,” the celebrity, the commodity, the fantasy.
While he relishes in the luxuries of it all, in being able to provide the life his family deserves, a small part of him cannot help but feel like he’s made a deal with the devil. That this talent he has been blessed with will also be the thing that damns him. He is overcome by the feeling that he’ll never know ever again if he is loved for who he really is, or if it is his fame and his image they love. And there is something about that that crushes his soul.
But he can’t say all this to you because it sounds dramatic and indulgent, and he knows there are very few people in this world who’d actually understand.  This is his cross to bear.
And yet you still comfort him. You are still here. “Oh, hon, I know. It’s okay, I know,” you say, kneeling down with him.
In the midst of all he’s achieved and gained these past few years, June is the representation of all that he stands to lose, all that he’s already lost. “She was my last chance, y/n. I’m never gonna be able to trust that a woman loves me for me and not for my fame after this. And I screwed it all up,” he says quietly, tears running freely. “I just feel so fucking alone.”
“Oh, that’s not true, Elvis, it’s not,” you say, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’ll find her, I know you will. And you have so many people who love you for just being you, not for the fancy cars or the mansion or the fame. You’ve got your family, you’ve got Jack and your true friends. And you’ve got me.”
The way you say it, so softly, yet so matter-of-fact hits him hard, so hard that his heart stops beating for a moment. If he wasn’t already kneeling, the honest way your tired yet beautiful eyes search his face might knock him right off his feet.
It’s you, it’s you, it’s always been you, he thinks suddenly. This is the feeling he was avoiding in the car. The feeling he’s been avoiding since he watched Jack kiss your cheek in the diner a year ago.
It takes his breath away. You take his breath away, you always have. He’s been enamored with you since you plowed into him all those years ago in the hallway at Humes High.
Suddenly, June is all but forgotten because you reach up, cupping his face in your cold little hands and wipe a tear off his cheek. He cannot help the way his eyelids flutter closed at the sensation of the pad of your thumb dragging softly across his face. His breathing, rapid from his cries is now labored for another reason entirely.
Opening his eyes slowly, he shouldn’t be shocked to see tears in yours, your grief and sorrow, not only for yourself, but for him, too, welling there, as if you are connected to him. In fact, Elvis feels like his brain is short-circuiting because you are too damn close and the tension in the room is suddenly so thick, he feels like he might suffocate.  
Every cell in his body feels on fire as you lean in closer and closer until your lips press against his forehead. You’ve never kissed him, not once in all these years, and this alone sends heat rushing through his young body. Then when you kiss his nose, and then one tear-stained cheek, he holds his breath, feeling like he might die from this chaste sensation.
Warning bells explode in his brain because suddenly he wants you more than anything in this world, always has. And now you are so close. This is Jack’s girl, he thinks, and she’s my dear friend. Don’t be an idiot.
But when you lean in to kiss his other cheek, you place your lips alarmingly close to his, his tears wet underneath your soft lips, and his body is on high alert as only a twenty-two-year-old’s could be. His heart flutters as you pull back just enough to look deeply into his eyes, tears shining in your own, and then you lean in once more.
This can’t be happening. This should not be happening, his mind screams, but then your lips are grazing his and all rational thought ceases to exist.
You taste so sweet.
Heat blooms through the ache in his chest, and in his disbelief, he freezes. Part of him wants to devour you whole, but he is terrified that if he moves, he might spook you and he cannot bear that.
His confusion is overridden when your hands, shaking but demanding, pull him closer. Your lips are soft and sure, and he cannot help but be swept away by them. He’s kissed so many girls, too many to count, all over the country, but not one has ever made him feel like this, like his heart is going to leap out of his damn chest.
But this is a betrayal of a monumental kind, for both of you. While he is no stranger to betrayal, he does not want this for you. As much as he wants you with every fiber of his being, he does not want to be the source of your regret or heartache. He’s already done enough in that regard already, though you don’t know it. Mustering up every ounce of his self-control, Elvis pulls out of your kiss.
“Y/n, baby, you don’t want this. I’m no good for you this way,” Elvis says in a hushed tone, his forehead resting against yours. “I-I can’t have you regretting me, I-I-I couldn’t bear it.”
You lean back the slightest bit, and he thinks you might be listening, reconsidering, making him feel mostly dismay but also a little relief. What he does not expect is for you to press your little pointer finger up against his lips, hushing him, as you stare into his eyes. It’s as though your soul is as weary and needy as his and it feels as though you see him, truly see him, which is a new feeling for him. This sends a welcoming shiver down his spine, and he knows that despite every scrap of logic and propriety he is trying to lean on, with you he is powerless.
When your finger drags down his lips, catching on the bottom one, it sends a bolt of pleasure straight to his groin. Yet still he resists (even though he wants more than anything to see where this is going), thinking you might realize your mistake, and this will all be over in an embarrassed, yet still salvageable, flash.
Instead, you very deliberately scoot closer, your knees bumping his on the carpet. You lean in again, your lips grazing his again with a yearning he cannot help but return in kind. It’s barely a kiss, but the intent is there and when you pull up, effectively opening your mouth to him, the way he can feel your warm breath mingling with his own has him struggling to control himself.
You are testing him, testing the waters, hesitant but somehow insistent at the same time. His long lashes flutter closed when your fingers brush his jaw then rake into his perfectly styled hair. But it’s when the tip of your tongue touches his, sending a hot shockwave through him, that he can stand it no longer and closes the gap between your mouths with a longing sigh.
Pressing his pliant lips to your yielding ones, he rolls his tongue softly but firmly against yours, earning him a quiet moan from you. This is like fuel on the fire, finally spurring him into action, and his hands fly to the back of your head, pulling you closer.
If there is one thing besides music that Elvis excels at and loves to do, it’s kissing. He plays with it the same way he plays a crowd, listening to you and adjusting his performance as necessary. The buzzy way it makes him feel, like every nerve is magnetic, is one of the only things in this world that is anything like how it feels for him to perform for an audience. He loves the way it makes him feel.
But kissing you is unlike anything Elvis has experienced before. It’s as though you are tuned to the exact same frequency, finding his rhythm immediately, adapting easily. The usual fumbling of people getting acquainted in this way does not seem to apply to the two of you, the ebb and flow so natural it’s as though you had done this with each other many times before.
But the passion of it stokes a fire that has been denied a long time. Intense heat crashes over him, sending tendrils of warmth through his limbs and deep into his belly. He drinks you in as deep as he can without being desperate, and oh how close he is to being desperate for you. His grief over June melts away the more he tastes you, and he wonders how he ever lived before having the taste of your lips on his.
It's all very dramatic and romantic, which he is both at heart. From just a few kisses, he suddenly knows that if he could kiss you and only you for the rest of his life, he would be a happy man indeed. This surprises him.
But what truly shocks him is when you lean so far into him that it pushes him over, his knees screaming a little, and he falls back into the wall with a thump. He scrambles backwards, maneuvering his long legs into a more comfortable seated position while you don’t even miss a beat or attempt to come up for air. And when you crawl into his lap, hoisting the flowing fabric of your dress up just enough so your warm, bare thighs are straddling his, his heart actually flies right out of his goddamned chest.
Speaking of which, you are currently running your hands down his, pulling his silky shirt up enough to dance your fingertips over his stomach. His breath hitches then hisses at that, his arms involuntarily encompassing you, large hands splaying across your back to draw you ever nearer.
And you go willingly, inching up his lap until you are straddling his hips. When you grind down into his lap, he thinks he might’ve died and gone to heaven, his blue eyes rolling back into his head with a low moan.
He'll admit he’s dreamed of this, fantasized about this, but nothing could truly prepare him for the reality of the way you are making him feel. A trickle of attraction that began six years ago is now a roaring river, and is so, so much more than anything he’s felt before with anyone else.
He doesn’t understand it. He loves women. He always falls in love too fast, enjoying the rapid descent into the madness of it all. There have only been a few that he feels were true, though every girl he’s with, he loves in his own way.
But you are not like any of them, not at all. With you, it has been slow, so gradual sometimes that he didn’t even realize it. A teenage crush turned into friendship, and within that has blossomed a love that he didn’t know he was capable of. It is not until this very instant that he realizes it truly for what it has become. He doesn’t just care for you. He loves you.
He is in love with you.
Fuck.
Realizing this as your hips begin to rock steadily over his crotch is not the best timing. He’s as hard as a rock, fighting both the swell of his physical need for you while wrestling with the emotional needs he’s quickly realizing at the same time.
If he didn’t love you, he might not care if this is just a quick fuck between friends, but he does care. And he’s worried about where this is coming from, likely your overall grief and your anger at Jack. No, he doesn’t like the messiness of that at all.
But another grind of your pelvis into his, coupled with your tongue down his throat has the physical quickly taking over any and all rational thought. He wants you, more than he’s ever wanted anyone. And he desperately wants to give you what you need, which based on the mewls escaping your lips, is a physical release, a connection.
God, he can feel the wet heat of your cunt now through your panties and his pants as you slide over his length, back and forth, again and again. He clings to you as your hands wind through his hair, burying his head in your neck, his lips taking in as much of your skin as he can. He revels in the scent of you, your perfume and your irresistible musk that is permeating the room. He is positively dizzy with it.
You are frantic in his lap now, chasing something he’s not entirely sure you’ve ever had. He knows about Ted, but he highly doubts Ted knew what to do with you. And with Jack, well, he’s not sure how far the two of you have gone, but he can only guess based on Jack’s recent actions and your desperation for no one to know that Ted had popped your cherry that you’ve been trying to be good and pure and wait.
But as you reach for his belt, pawing at him, for the first time in this whole event, he gets the distinct impression that you’re not sure what to do next, only that you are needy for something. And goddamn him, he is willing to give you what you need, but only if you really understand what it is you’re asking for.
“Wait, baby, just…wait,” Elvis pants, stilling your hips with one hand while grabbing the hand at his belt with the other. You whimper a little at the interruption, rolling your hips for emphasis, but despite the groan he can’t help, he’s having none of that.
“Baby, I need to know that you really want this,” he says, brushing your hair off your deliciously pink cheeks, your lips swollen from his kisses. He looks into your eyes, almost getting lost in them and forgetting what he set out to do. “You’re absolutely sure?”
“Yes,” you whisper, and then add, “Elvis, please,” in a begging tone that sets him completely aflame.
“Oh, damn, okay, baby, okay,” he breathes, barely able to contain himself with that. He’s only human, after all. He races to help you with his pants, pulling them over his hips and down his legs in record time, his erection springing free, precum already glistening the tip. You lift up on your knees, you move your panties aside, and touching the silky soft skin of his cock, you help him line up with your entrance. He can’t help but gasp at the feeling of your cool little fingers circling his shaft, losing it a little more when he feels how incredibly soaked you already are.
He can’t believe this is happening. It shouldn’t be happening. But all logic is gone from him, replaced by the sweetness of your mouth and the wetness of your pussy and his desperate need for whatever love you have to give him.
He watches as you bite your lip in concentration, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you try to take him in. You are incredibly tight around the sensitive tip of his cock, and he moans a little at the constriction. That’s when he knows for sure that no one else has touched you like this for a long time. You aren’t ready for him, not yet.
Reaching under your skirt, he deftly finds the delicate little bundle of nerves there and begins to work it ever so gently. He shifts his hips down, his cock regretfully released from your hold on it. Sliding his fingers through your folds (oh, god), he gently slips one finger into your tight heat, then two, allowing you to adjust around him before pumping them in and out. Your eyes go wide and you gasp with the intrusion, but then they flutter closed with a sigh, and then another, and another before your hips begin to rock again.
He watches you in your ecstasy, taking in every delectable reaction he can and committing it to memory. The way your brow scrunches and your mouth falls open into a little O. The feel of your thighs clenching around his hand as he massages and fingers your dripping pussy. Those alluring little breathy moans escaping your lips. Every part of you has him completely mesmerized and he knows it. He knows his mouth is agape and he is moaning softly right along with you. He is so aroused just by watching you, he feels like he could come without you even touching him.
“E, I need more…I need you,” you breathe with your eyes closed and brow concentrated, and oh sweet lord, those might be the best words in the English language with the way they come out of your mouth.
He is utterly unable to deny you this. He can’t even speak, he just pulls his fingers out of you, lifts your hips, and maneuvers his cock back to the place it wants to be most. And you are more ready for him now, your tightness yielding much more easily around the sensitive tip of him.
It’s in that moment, as you sink down ever-so-slowly onto him and he is enveloped by your wet heat, that Elvis realizes he is utterly ruined for any other woman, ever. They cannot and will not ever hold a candle to you. He should’ve known before. He should’ve stopped this while he still could. But as you finally settle in his lap, taking him in completely, your fingers relaxing and your eyes bright and glassy, he knows he is well and truly fucked in every way.
He kisses you deeply again and again, memorizing your mouth, as you begin to raise and lower yourself on his cock. You feel so good, so completely perfect, it’s as if you were made just for him. He is drunk on you, hands wandering your body, finding what makes you keen, and he’s unable to get enough of you.
But you are so needy and ready that unfortunately it doesn’t take very long of you riding him and him playing with your clit for you to begin falling apart at the seams. Based on your surprised gasps, he’s not sure you’ve ever come before, so he does his best to help you get there while holding on to his own release for dear life. You begin to shudder around him, clenching his length, and with a strangled moan you hit your peak. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, the way you are coming undone on top of him, around him, your eyelashes fluttering closed and then popping open, all wild-eyed and rosy cheeked as the hushed sound of his name falls out of your perfect mouth.
He's so fucking enraptured that his orgasm hits harder and faster than expected, chasing yours almost immediately, not giving him time to pull out like he should have. But he can’t bring himself to care because it’s all you. All he’s ever wanted or needed—it’s you.
Oh, sweet Christ, I love you, I love you, I love you, he chants in his mind as he follows you over the edge.
He clings to you, head pressed into your breasts as he pulses hard into your warmth with a grunt, then stays there as he comes down from the high. And then you are both gasping in the silence, and there is an air of disbelief that fills the room that the two of you just did that, together.
This is making love, he realizes suddenly. It must be, considering the incredibly overwhelming feelings he has for you that are pouring through him in unreasonable amounts. He never wants to let you go, not ever.
He pulls back enough to kiss you tenderly, lingering a little too long. There is a sinking, nearly unbearable feeling that this may never happen again, and it threatens to break him, so he pushes it as far away as it will go.
You press your forehead to his, silent, you still enveloping him as he eventually begins to soften inside you. Neither of you rushes to move. He cannot read what you are thinking and that makes him nervous.
“Are you okay?” he finally whispers, his thumb grazing your cheek.
You nod but say nothing.
“Okay, baby.”
You both sit there a while, simmering in what you have done, and he wishes you would say something, say anything at all to let him know what is going on in that head of yours. But you are quiet, unreadable.
Finally, you remove yourself from his lap and stumble your way into the ensuite bathroom to clean up.
Elvis runs a hand down his face, wiping away the mixture of salty tears and sweat that has collected there. He uses his handkerchief to wipe himself off and then puts himself back together. Blissed out in his refraction, he is so full of love for you that he almost can’t stand it. He thought he’d known love before, and perhaps he did, but this realization of love for you is so big that he doesn’t know what to do with it. God, he feels like with you by his side, he could conquer the damn world.
But you’re not his girl.
Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit.
His head falls back onto the wall with a thump.
Somehow, he’s both on top of the world and completely buried by it at the same time. You interrupt his thoughts, coming back in quietly and falling, exhausted, into his arms. He takes off his coat and puts it on top of you both. He can’t help but pull you closer, up into his lap, so your head rests against his chest. This is where you are supposed to be, he can’t help but think.
He knows the two of you need to talk about this. While he has been having his epiphany, he has absolutely no idea what you are thinking. He has no clue if you feel anything even close to what he feels for you. It is possible that all of this was just some sort of revenge on Jack, and that breaks his heart a little. And even if you did do it for that reason, you chose him. You felt safe enough with him to choose him.
But something deep inside him tells him it isn’t just that, not with the way you kissed him, not with the way he felt like his damn soul was connecting with yours. That deep connection he’s always felt to you, it can’t possibly be one-way.
But what if it is? a worried little voice creeps in.
He wants to ask you, but he looks down and sees you passed out on his chest. Fatigue begins to hit him, as he hasn’t slept in over a day.
It’s not long before he, too, falls into an exhausted slumber.
*
He’s not sure how long you sleep, but when he wakes, the sun has moved and the room is nearly dark. Disoriented, it takes a moment for him to realize that it’s you in his arms, and when he remembers why, his cheeks flame with heat.
Oh. Oh.
Drowsy, he rubs his eyes with one hand, trying to wake up. As the memories of your lovemaking resurface, his heart beats faster, and he knows the moment you wake you will both have to face what you’ve done. You’ll have to decide what comes next. And more than anything, the hopeful little voice inside him realizes that he wants to share this all with you—that’s why it is you he brought to Graceland today, and why it was so important to him that you like it.
“Y/n, honey, wake up,” he says quietly, not wanting to shock you awake, but you don’t even stir. He shifts under you, hoping that might get you moving, but you just lie there.
“Hey, baby, it’s time to wake up,” he says at full voice now, but you remain still, too still, and silent.
His heart starts to pound. Something isn’t right.
“Y/n! Honey, I need you to wake up!” He is getting frantic now, his hand gently tapping your face, which feels too cold. But still, you do not wake.
“Fuck. Fuck! Y/n, wake up!” He shakes you. Panic and confusion roll over him as he tries to figure out why you are knocked out. His sleep-addled brain runs through what happened before you both fell asleep, before you made love.
Her headache, he thinks. She took pills for her headache.
He had thought they were aspirin, but as he frantically rummages through her purse, pulling out the little prescription bottle, he reads “Percodan, one tablet every 6 hours for pain and sleep relief” on the label.
Elvis swears you took two tablets, not one, way too much for a girl your size. You hadn’t read the bottle.
Shit.
Having been in Hollywood, he knows that this happens. People overdose from taking these narcotics, usually to get high, but he knows that you did it on accident. Based on how full the bottle is, he’s guessing that you maybe hadn’t even taken the meds before today.
Regardless, he’s not taking any chances with you. There’s no phone hooked up at the house, so with his adrenaline now working overtime, he lifts your unconscious form and quickly carries you to the car. He peals out, driving to Baptist Memorial Hospital as fast as he possibly can.
The those few hours are some of the most terrifying of his life.
He bites every nail down to the quick in that waiting room, pacing there as your family sits, equally worried. He can’t help but feel that they are judging him for letting this happen, even though it was an accident.
He can’t bring himself to call Jack.
Guilt eats away at him, even though he knows he had no idea about the pills, but if he hadn’t fallen asleep, maybe he would’ve realized sooner that something was wrong. Part of him feels like this is punishment for his sins, for what he let happen in the house. He prays and prays to God, harder than he’s ever prayed before.
Please, God, I love her. I can’t lose her. Do what you want to me, just let her be okay.
His prayers work.
You wake up. The doctors say you are going to make a full recovery. His heart nearly explodes with relief.
He offers to stay while your family goes home to get some rest. It is past visiting hours, but being Memphis’ own superstar, the nurses take pity on him and let him stay, as long as he doesn’t keep you awake.
When you finally stir, it’s the middle of the night.
“E—Elvis?” you croak. “What happened? Where am I?”
He sits up straight and leans forward to take your cold little hand in his. “Y/n! Oh, baby, you took too many of your headache pills and I couldn’t wake you up. You scared the hell outta me. You’re in the hospital, but you’re gonna be okay,” he whispers, squeezing your hand.
“Wake me up? Why—why was I asleep?” your brow furrows in confusion.
His heart drops into his stomach, dread like ice in his veins. He doesn’t want to ask, but he knows he must:
“What’s the last thing you remember, honey?”
Obviously still groggy, you close your eyes for a moment to think. “Um, I remember you picked me up and took me to…to your new house,” you say, then your eyes pop open, “You were showing me your beautiful new house, and then my headache got really bad, so I took some of my pills, and then…” You stop, looking at him blankly. “And after that, I don’t remember. You said I fell asleep?”
Oh, God, no. No, no, no. He feels like he’s going to vomit.
The force of his dread hits him like a tsunami as he runs through what happened in his head again. You took the pills first and then he told you about June and then you kissed him.
But you don’t remember. You don’t remember because you were accidentally fucking high.
“Elvis, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” you say.
“Sorry, baby, I-I-I was just really worried about you, is all. I-I guess it’s all kinda hittin’ me at o-once, now that you’re o-o-okay,” he says, unable to keep his voice from shaking, unable to keep from stuttering through the half-truth.
“Please, go get some rest, E. I’ll be fine. I’m so tired, I feel like I could sleep for days…” you say, drowsily, eyes fluttering closed.
“Okay, okay, baby, I will…Get some rest,” he says, kissing you on the top of your head as you drift back into slumber.
In a panicked daze, he manages to make it down the hallway and to the men’s room before his stomach rolls and he is violently sick into the toilet.
Oh, sweet Lord, he took advantage of you. You were drugged and didn’t know what you were doing, and he had sex with you.
He vomits again, tears running down his face.
I didn’t know, I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have ever let it happen if I’d known! I would never hurt her! the reasonable part of his brain cries out.
Shame eats at him from deep inside, cutting him. He deserves it.
How could he do this? How could he let this happen?
I should’ve known. I should’ve known the moment she kissed me that she wasn’t in her right mind.
But he didn’t, and what the hell does that say about him? He’s fucking selfish and he took something from you that you weren’t in your right mind to give.
He dry heaves, wanting desperately to expel his regret but knowing that he never will, not until the day he dies.
And what’s even worse is that he is still left with the fact that he is desperately in love with you. You don’t remember what, up until a few minutes ago, was one of the most amazing moments of his young life. You can’t share that with him. And that makes him feel even more selfish because the last thing he should be thinking of is his own damn feelings.
Sitting there on the cold floor, he tries to convince himself it’s for the best. It’s much less complicated for you this way. For you, there was no betrayal. For you, making love with him can never be a mistake you once made in a moment of anger and desperation. For you, there is only the love of friendship between you two.
Yes, it’s better this way, he thinks. He can carry the burden for both of you. He deserves to.
Because he knows he cannot give you what you need. He cannot be there for you, day in and day out, holding you tight and keeping you safe. Especially not now. Not after what he’s done.
He has to lock this away. You can never know, not ever. He must protect you from this and from his guilt. He knows you wouldn’t be able to look at him if you knew.
Oh, God. Please forgive me.
He can’t stop crying. He has to stop crying because he has to go out there and he has to look fine. He has to be fine, for your sake. You’re alive and going to be okay, and it’s that which he latches onto as a mantra in order to slide into the persona that has made his name.  
He manages to make it to the car without losing it again, as the dawn starts to break on another day. He can’t bring himself to go home; he can’t look his mother in the eye right now. So, he drives aimlessly, for hours, his sins eating away at him until he finds himself at the church.
He waits for Reverend Hamill in a pew, his thoughts dark and churning. This is just the straw that broke him, for he knows that since his fame began two years ago, he has fallen so very far. He has been self-centered and vain. He has fornicated and broken hearts and caused pain to those he claimed to love, all in the name of this new life of his. And he’s pushed his friends to do the same. His stupid, selfish actions have had a ripple effect that has completely ruined lives.
Not only had he driven June away and into the arms of another man, he’d played with your life and Jack’s as well. If he hadn’t pushed Jack to cheat, you would never have needed those pills in the first place. You almost died because he didn’t want to be alone in his debauchery, and he knows that some sick part of him pushed Jack to it because he wanted to sabotage your relationship.
Then he realizes that, on top of all that, he did another incredibly selfish and stupid thing. He came inside you, which means that you could be pregnant. And that would ruin you completely, and you wouldn’t even know why, you wouldn’t understand. He would do the right thing, of course, and maybe, someday, you would learn to forgive him, but it would ruin you all in the process.
Oh, Lord. Oh, Jesus.
He thinks he might vomit again.
When the Reverend emerges, he looks surprised to find Elvis sitting there.
“Pastor, I am the most miserable man you’ve ever seen. I am doing the things you taught me not to, and I’m not doing the things you said I should,” he sobs, “Please, please pray for me.”
“Oh, son…come in,” Reverend Hamill says.
Deflated, consumed, and heavy with his guilt and the repercussions of his actions, he follows the pastor into his office. He can’t bring himself to admit what he’s done, to admit how horrible he is. He just cannot get the words out. Instead, he weeps and prays, over and over, the Reverend praying with him.
All he can whimper out is, “Please, please forgive me for my sins. Please.” He’s not sure if he’s asking the minister or God or both. He only knows he cannot live with himself for hurting you, even if you don’t know it.
After over an hour of this, by the grace of God, he finally calms some. His entire body and soul aches.
But he knows what he has to do now. He understands the deal he has made.
It doesn’t matter what he wants or needs. You being okay is all that matters. He has to make sure you’re taken care of. He has to make sure that you are happy.
In the days and weeks and months that follow, Elvis pretends he is having the time of his life, becoming every bit the budding superstar that the country insists that he is now. Sometimes, he even believes it; sometimes, he even forgets. Though every time he sees you, his heart breaks a little more, his love for you permeating him to the core.
But he knows he can’t have you. He knows he doesn’t deserve you.
Instead, he plants seeds in Jack’s ear. “You love her, don’t ya, Jacky Boy? When are ya gonna make an honest woman of her?” He pushes Jack to fully commit to you. He even goes with Jack to buy the ring, though he stops himself from paying for it. Jack has his pride, after all.
Instead, he throws himself into work, grateful for the grueling cycle of touring and recording and appearances and acting. He throws himself into fixing up Graceland for his family, building a life of extravagance that he never could’ve dreamed of.
And, God help him, he starts seeing other girls. He leans into the image of the playboy they all want him to be. He dates and he fucks, thinking that maybe, just maybe, one of these girls will make him forget the perfect way you fit into him, forget the way your face looked when you came undone around him. That maybe one of them will come close to the wonder that is you. That they will help him forget his past sins by cutting new ones. He cannot seem to help but do the sinful things he swore he wouldn’t do, lest he drown in his sorrows, but the girls help keep him from the one thing that is off limits: You.
When Jack finally pops the question in the summer, and you accept immediately, he can barely keep himself together. He convinces himself this is the right thing, that he is happy for the both of you as he stares into the night sky knowing deep in his soul that it should be him. He reminds himself that this is the deal, this is what he wanted, to see you happy and taken care of.
And he will damn himself for your salvation every time.
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December 28th, 1957, Graceland
Oh, God, what have I done?
The moment you appear down the aisle, looking ever the most beautiful, blushing bride, every part of him aches with love for you. He’d thought that by giving you the life you dreamed of, the life you needed, that it would be enough to let you go. But as Elvis stands by Jack’s side at the altar, he realizes that no matter what has happened, no matter what he has done, he is always going to love you and it’s never not going to hurt, especially not after this.
Not after the quick look you shoot him as you step up to meet Jack, your pretty, wide eyes full of excitement and emotion. Not after seeing you all in white and wishing to God that it was him marrying you right now. Not after he keeps his peace after the minister asks if there’s a reason these two should not be married.
He somehow manages to keep himself from openly weeping during the ceremony by biting the inside of his cheek repeatedly but still finds himself caught in your radiance more than once and must force himself to look away. During the wedding pictures, he cannot help but maneuver himself close to you to press a lingering kiss to your cheek, to be memorialized for all time on film. The press of his soft lips into your warm cheek sends that tell-tale shiver through him, one that drives in the fact that he still loves you. He gives himself this tiny thing, and no one questions it because they all know you are close friends, and a congratulatory cheek kiss on your wedding day is not strange.
Discretely, he makes sure to let the photographer know he wants copies of the pictures, with the excuse that he is paying for them and wants to make sure they are perfect. This, too, is not questioned, as if it is the most normal thing in the world.
To torture himself even more, he offers Graceland up for the reception. These are his two best friends, after all, now cleaved together in holy matrimony for the rest of their lives. No expense should be spared because they deserve all the happiness in the world.
And they do, he reminds himself throughout the day. They do deserve all the happiness in the world.
At least if you are with Jack, he thinks, he still has you in his life. He can still see those beautiful, wide eyes whenever he wants without question or suspicion.
He clings to this.
Even so, he feels as though he is being sucked into a riptide. It seems fated that his life is going in a much different direction than the newlyweds. The draft notice he received a week ago confirms this, weighing heavy on his heart and feeing like a nail in the coffin of his hopes and dreams.
God is testing him, he thinks. It is all a very clear and stark reminder that where he goes, you cannot follow. He cannot help but feel that God is punishing him for his sins by taking him away from the fame he has just settled into to, taking him from the people he loves and the things he loves to do. He wants to lament that it isn’t fair, but part of him knows that he deserves this, too, for what he’s done and for what he’s done to you.
And perhaps God works in mysterious ways, as while he is loathe to leave his parents and his career and his fans, he cannot help the small part of him that is relieved he doesn’t have to watch you and Jack in your newlywedded bliss for the next two years. It’s the only upshot to this entire disaster.
But he won’t let his sorrow overshadow your big day. With a smile plastered on his face, he gives a charming and loving speech of how wonderful it is to see his two best friends find such happiness with each other. He only stutters once or twice, which comes across as endearing rather than damning. But the thing is, even though he is miserable, he is still happy for you two. He wants more than anything for you to have everything you’ve ever wanted and more, and if that is with Jack, then so be it.
The only time he truly falters is during the dance.
Your little sister (who at 18 is not so little anymore), Rosie, as the Maid of Honor, dances with Jack, while he, the Best Man, dances with you. The moment he touches you, sparks fly through him and down his spine, and he cannot help but pull you in a little too close, even though everyone is looking. His large hand wraps around your smaller one and the other clings to your waist.
The thing is, you do not react to this at all, not outwardly, anyway. You let him hold you and press his cheek against your temple. You let him breathe in your scent and lean into you, as if memorizing everything about you. You let his hands contract, pulling you in closer. You let him lead because it’s like somehow you know, in your soul, that he needs this, even if you’re not exactly sure why.
And for that he is grateful. He is grateful as he takes in every bit of you, committing you to memory, knowing that soon that is all he will have of you. All you will be is a memory, imprinted on his heart, for the rest of time.
When the song comes to an end, he leans back slowly, his eyes searching your face for any recognition, any understanding of his plight, any feelings of your own that might linger in your subconscious. You stare back at him openly for a moment, and for a second he thinks he sees a glimmer of something in your eyes, but then Jack is pulling you away and the moment is gone.
As the party continues into the night, he feels like he is suffocating and escapes upstairs to his room. And as people know not to enter his bedroom without express permission, he feels safe to let out the shaking sob he’s been holding back for hours.
He’s not sure how long he cries before a tap at the door startles him into motion, frantically wiping at his face.
“Bewbie, sweet boy, can I come in? It’s just me,” his mama’s voice echoes through the door.
“Yeah, Mama, come in,” he croaks out, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. While he is relieved that it’s her and not one of the guys, or God forbid, you, he still doesn’t know how he’s going to explain the state he’s in.
His mama comes in quietly, shutting the door quickly behind her. She looks him over and in one fell swoop seems to understand, even though he’s said nothing, even though he’s spent months perfecting his nonchalantness for the world, what is going on.
But a mother knows.
His mama sits next to him on the edge of the bed, putting her arm comfortingly around his broad shoulders. “Oh, my wittle baby, it’s her, isn’t it? Our beautiful y/n. You love her,” she says, less of a question and more stating a fact.
That does him in, the way his secret is exposed so easily by his mama. It terrifies him that she knows him so well, and terrifies him that if she knows this, what else does she know? There’s no point in denying anything, so he curls into her like a child and lets go of it all, the tears streaming once again down his cheeks as his body shakes with quiet sobs.
His mama has always loved you, taking quickly to your genial ways and how you always made time to spend with her. Maybe she suspected something from the start, he doesn’t know, but she doesn’t judge or scold him now.
“H-hurts so bad, Satnin,” he hiccups out. And it does, now that he’s letting it. It feels like his heart is being ripped from his chest.
“I know, baby, I know,” she coos, rubbing his back. He can sense all the questions she wants to ask but doesn’t.
“I-I-I couldn’t…I-I ain’t w-w-what she needs or wants, Mama,” he stutters out. It’s as close as he’s willing to get to telling her the truth.
“It takes a brave man to let the girl he loves marry another, when he knows that’s what she wants, though I can’t say I wish it didn’t work out the other way,” his mama tuts.
“Y-you knew?”
“Course I knew, Bewbie. A mother always knows. To be fair, I been watchin’ the way ya look at that girl for the past few years and it didn’t take much t’put it all together, baby,” she says. “But the question is, does she know?”
He stills and stays silent for a moment, before answering truthfully, “I don’t know, Mama. I don’t think so.”
“Hmm,” she tuts, “I’m gonna trust you had good reason for lettin’ that wonderful girl go without tellin’ her how ya feel?”
His heart constricts, causing him to doubt his choices, but he can’t explain how he nearly killed you with his terrible decisions. He certainly can’t tell his mama that he made love to you when you weren’t yourself, no matter that it was you came on to him. And he knows his mama would balk if he told her how much he doesn’t deserve your love because of his sins.
“It’s better this way, Mama,” he says quietly, sitting up and staring at his hands. “And she’s happy, both she and Jack.”
His mama nods, resigned. “Alright, my sweet baby, puttin’ your friends’ happiness before your own…I know ya made the choice ya thought was best,” she says, wiping his face and pinching his cheeks, “but ya get yourself cleaned up now ‘n go be at least a ‘lil happy for your friends, okay?” She leaves the obvious unsaid—that he’s leaving to film in a few days and straight from there, it’ll be into the Army, so this will be one of the last times he can spend with them.
He nods. “O-okay, Satnin.”
And with that, he does as he’s told.
*
And then, in a blink of an eye, she’s gone. His mama is gone and his world fully collapses and it’s all his fault.
You are the only one who saves him from being completely swallowed in the blackness of his despair, and he’s not in his right mind to think or care how that looks. All he knows is you’re there when he needs you the most. You’re there to get him through the absolute worst of it before they send him a world away, and then, he loses you, too.
He loses everything that means anything to him—his mama, you, his career—and he wonders how long God will continue to punish him for his misdeeds, until he can’t bring himself to care much anymore about anything at all.
Germany feels like a cold fog that clouds his brain, even when he brings his Daddy and Dodger and Red over to live with him off base. In his haze, he writes Anita promises he wishes he could keep but deep down knows he won’t. Then, he turns around and does all the things he shouldn’t do because he can and what does it even matter if it’s all lost anyway? He takes the pills they give him to keep him awake in the field, and those make him feel pretty good, for a time anyway, and then he starts taking other pills they give him to bring him down after. In his off time, he screws and tries to forget the life he used to know.
And in those horrible quiet hours when he lies awake, trying to sleep when even the pills won’t let him, trying to escape and can’t, he thinks of you. He thinks of his love for you and your hold over him even now, a world away, and when he’s extra lonely, he imagines you on top of him, writhing and beautiful. And when he comes undone, there’s nothing left but a gaping hole in his heart and a mess in his hand.
*
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March 1960
Elvis bites his nails to the quick on the long journey home. It’s not just because of the planes and the exhaustion and not knowing if he’ll ever get back to being “Elvis Presley,” but he knows he’ll be seeing you in a matter of hours. Not years or months or weeks, but hours.
And he thinks that maybe he is finally over you, that maybe he’s healed enough from everything and that he’s on his way to start something new, something fresh.
But, God, somehow you are more beautiful now than before, but you act so strange around him, and his heart wants to leap and implode all at once. Somehow everything has changed…but you, you still own his heart.
Once he discovers your pregnancy, he is over the moon for you because he can sense how badly you want this. He doesn’t care that the baby is Jack’s—he loves it more than anything because he loves you and seeing you so happy brings him true joy for the first time in a long, long time.
His career is taking off again, his new image impressing those who denounced him a few years ago, and he already has appearances and recordings and films lined up to go. Life feels…almost good, like maybe he’s finally paid his karmic debt.
Then you almost bleed to death in his arms.
His terrified confession of love is spoken in an act of desperation, a singular hope that if you know he loves you, you won’t be able to go, that the string of fate that draws you both together cannot be broken, that he can somehow will you back to life with the power of his love.
He begs God, begs as he’s never begged before, an inner wail of blood-soaked prayer that does not cease as he rides with your near-lifeless form to the hospital, nor when he calls Jack and your parents, nor as paces the waiting room.
Singularly focused on his pleas to God, he doesn’t even realize he’s covered in your blood until Charlie and Jerry arrive shortly after the ambulance and look at him in shock.
“Jesus, EP,” Charlie gasps quietly, taking in the macabre scene, “We need to get you changed and cleaned up before Jack gets here.”
That’s when he looks down and sees your life’s blood staining his pants, his shirt, his arms, his hands. God, it’s even under my nails, he thinks as he watches his hands shake, feeling utterly disconnected from his body.
He’s frozen, unable to move, repeating his prayers again and again, until Charlie whisks him away and has to physically help him strip down and wash the blood from his body in the bathroom. As he watches the pink-tinged water swirl down the drain, he cannot bear the thought that maybe it’s the last thing he has of you, these stains, and that maybe he’s truly lost you.
He just got you back. He can’t lose you. He won’t.
No, his inner mantra of prayer doesn’t cease until he is absolutely sure you are going to be okay.
Though “okay” is relative, he learns quickly. You have a long recovery ahead of you, the surgeons say, wiping their sweating brows, and the next few days will be crucial. The baby is gone, and the doctors say that more tests need to be done once you are well to see if that is even an option in the future.
He is heartbroken for you, and for Jack. But you are alive. You are alive.
Lamar and Red have to physically drag him from the hospital in the morning to get him ready and put him on the train to Florida for Frank Sinatra’s special, which is the very last thing he wants to do. But it is absolutely pivotal in his career comeback, so he tells Rosie in no uncertain terms that she is to keep him posted about her sister and any developments.
As he showers and packs, exhaustion seeping into his bones, it suddenly hits him that he told you he loved you, and it’s likely there will be fallout from that. It makes him incredibly worried, and he is even more loathe to leave until he knows where he stands with you. It’s possible you won’t even want to see him again.
Or it’s possible she loves you, too, a little voice hopes. But he knows better than to feed that monster. You don’t love him, not like that, and it’s selfish of him to even consider at a time like this.
“It’ll take your mind off things, EP,” Jerry tries to convince him, seeing his trepidation, prodding him along to get on the train. “And it’ll give y/n and Jack and her family time to get situated.”
The message is clear. Elvis is not in the inner circle of your life, not anymore, not as he wants to be. This fact is both sobering and cutting at the same time. It reminds him yet again that where he goes, you cannot follow, and where you go, he is not always welcome or needed.
He nods solemnly, thinking he finally understands, yet again, the terms of his deal with God. You live and he keeps his distance, he keeps his sins from tainting you. You live and he lets you go.
He pops a couple of pills, brought over from Germany, to wake him up, to get him in the performing mindset, to rev him up to being THE Elvis Presley. “Anything she needs, anything at all, comes to me,” he tells Jerry, “Hospital bills, recovery costs…and I want the best doctors helping her figure out her pregnancy issues. Oh, and send flowers, every day.”
Jerry nods, eyes observant and keen. “Of course, EP. Anything for y/n and Jack.”
Yes, anything for you.
*
You don’t remember a thing from that night, he learns from Rosie, and most of him thinks it’s for the best. But a small, egotistical part of him thinks bitterly that you certainly have a knack for forgetting anything monumental that happens between the two of you.
But he is busy. So busy, in fact, that he barely has time to think of you at all after that.
Except half the songs he chooses for his comeback album have something to do with you, which he only consciously realizes when he steps up to the mic to sing. And just as he thought of you the night of the talent show, he thinks of you now, singing about the girl of his best friend and how it feels so right being with you. He pours his hopes and dreams and frustrations and sorrows right into that album.
Perhaps it will cleanse him of needing you. Perhaps it’ll help him let you go.
When you find out that children are likely not in the cards for you and Jack, he sends more flowers, every day for a week. Jack is devastated and practically begs to come out to Hollywood to escape the sadness, so he agrees.
Anything for his friend, right?
He takes care of you from afar. He takes care of everything. Anything you could possibly want or need is yours. But he keeps his distance.
That is the bargain.
He falters at Christmas, almost letting his grief and yours ruin everything. He swears that you feel something for him, that maybe your impulse to be with him was not entirely driven by the drugs all those years ago. That maybe you do somehow remember his confession. Part of him swears if he had let it happen, you would’ve been his once again.
But you are not his, you never really were.
And while he knows this on a logical level, the more he is away, the more he fills his days with mindless movie making and wooing his costars and taking pills that bring him up and more that pull him down, the more he lets himself imagine you are his. From a distance, he can take care of you. From a distance and in the deep recesses of his mind, you belong to him and him alone.
“Elvis Presley” becomes a household name, now with a clean-cut image, alluring to both housewives and teenagers alike. His fame and wealth grow, and so does his isolation and loneliness. So does the need for the pills and to bring the rest of the guys into it all with him. Even Jack.
Especially Jack.
But he doesn’t like to think about why that is.
He manages to destroy his relationship with Anita along the way. He loved her, in his way, he really did. But she was not you. Neither is Ann, though he thinks for a moment that she may be the answer to his prayers, but in the end, he screws that up, too.
As the years drag on, he thinks he finally understands why he sabotages every relationship he’s ever had—it’s you—none of them are YOU. So he flits from fling to fling without ever truly landing because all he really wants is your love. But he doesn’t deserve it, he never has.
He knows this as he watches Jack descend into alcohol and drugs and women, and a small, horrible part of him wants Jack to self-destruct, and even though he knows this hurts you, he is too selfish to stop it. And the guilt of this, coupled with the downturn in his career, pushes him to self-destruct, too.
Still, he keeps his distance. When he’s home, he tries not to shoot you too many lingering glances. He reins himself in, most of the time, but in moments of weakness, he allows himself to get too close. He catches you alone, he makes a pass. But because you are you, you always rebuke him with a laugh. Silly Elvis, ever the jokester.
But sometimes, in the dark of night, in your beautiful, wide eyes, he sees something else. That deeper connection that drew you together in the first place, mixed with a heat he has only seen once or twice. And it is that which keeps his hope alive.
In an attempt to bury it and fill the hole in his heart, he almost marries, but in the end, he can’t go through with it. He’s wildly unhappy and dissatisfied, and it’s not until he finally gains some control over his career again that things take a turn for the better. He finally starts to clean up his act. He seeks knowledge and spiritual clarity. He finally finds his passion for music and performing again after nearly a decade.
But it’s too late for Jack. He managed to drag Jack to hell and while he made it back, Jack has not. And you are miserable because of it. This breaks his heart.
He tried to give you everything you wanted and needed by stepping back to let Jack do so. He kept his distance. He did what he’d promised God, and yet life still destroyed your dreams.
Jack no longer makes you happy. Jack is no longer the man who can give you what you need.
And suddenly Elvis wonders if he was wrong all along. That perhaps he wasn’t the man you needed then, but he is now. Perhaps his sins have been forgiven. Perhaps the more he pushes you away, the worse things become for both of you because you are indeed supposed to be together.
You are his. You’ve always been his.
So, riding high from his first Vegas performance, he finally allows himself to pursue you. He pushes away a decade and a half of guilt and shame and lets his charm and confidence entice you. He lets the sparks fly between you, finally free after all this time, and more intense than ever. To his gleeful surprise, you accept him willingly, if not a bit hesitantly.
Maybe it is just sex, he thinks at first, this carnal need he has for you, but he knows better. As soon as he tastes you after all these years, he knows he can never let you go again. As soon as he coaxes, then watches you come undone again and again, he realizes that still, after all this time, this is it for him. You are it. You always have been. And he will do anything to keep you, to make sure you know that you are his.
He thinks you might remember it all after that first night, but you don’t, not right away. He senses your fear to let go, to let yourself have him, to have this affair. He knows you want this to be only sex. And maybe it is for you, at first.
But he will have you. He doesn’t care how many mountains he must move or what he has to do to convince you to stay, but he loves you more than anything in the world and he’s not willing to part with you, not anymore.
It’s true that his fame, wealth, and influence have spoiled him into always getting what he desires. Of course, what he truly desires always has been you. Now unlocked, his love and want and need for you is insatiable, and he will do anything to keep it that way.
Anything for you. Anything but letting you go.
*
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As the blackout of his rage starts to dissipate and he comes to, he assumes that his friends are holding him back from quite literally killing the disheveled and beaten man who used to be his best friend, and he watches with deep satisfaction as you slap the shit out of your husband.
He also feels the immense guilt of letting it get this far, of not knowing just how bad Jack was to you, and his part in all of it.
But when you vomit and promptly fall to an unconscious heap on the ground, his fear is what overshadows his rage and guilt. Something is wrong, he knows it.
Not again, not again, not again.
Triggered by your history, Elvis, with untold strength, wrenches himself from the four men holding him down and clamors to your side, everyone else forgotten.
Pulling your limp body into his lap, he screams for someone to call the doctor. His heart pounds so hard he thinks he might need one, too.
Please God, please God, please God. Not now, not after all we’ve been through.
That deep-seeded, old shame creeps back in as he rocks you: This is your fault. Your selfishness did this. You destroyed Jack, he took it out on her, and you’ve put her at risk, yet again. You are a scourge on this woman you claim to love so much. A pestilence.
He’s getting lost in this fearful despair, and then Jerry’s voice in his ear snaps him back: “EP. EP! You have to let her go, man. The doctor is here.” Jerry pulls his arms off her as the doctor examines her.
Elvis’ fingers go straight to his mouth, his obsessive habit of biting his nails taking over as he watches the doctor carefully.
The doctor looks up, taking in the scene. He looks at Elvis, then at Jack bleeding against the wall, and purses his lips. “Will somebody tell me what happened to this young lady?”
“There was an incident…” Jerry begins diplomatically.
“Her husband slammed his fist into her face!” Sandy yells over him, furious, earning scathing looks from the entourage. They knew better than to give details, knowing to keep things close to the chest and avoid any legal issues, to protect him at all costs.
“Sandy!” Jerry admonishes her.
“No, it’s okay, Jer,” Elvis says firmly, waving him off. “I’m sure the doctor knows to be discreet.”
The doctor looks up at his hovering, intimidating form, and says nothing for a moment. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I need to get her to a hospital and stabilized as soon as possible. She needs x-rays. It’s likely she has a serious concussion, Mr. Presley.”
The men start to argue, knowing that as soon as she leaves this room, a whole host of problems could fall down on them, but that’s the last thing he cares about right now. All that matters is you.
Elvis holds up his hand and everyone goes silent. “Do what you need to do, Doc. Anything she needs.”
The doctor nods and asks that someone phone for an ambulance.
Elvis looks up and sees that the men cleared the room at some point, leaving only the major players. Jack still sits, leaning on the wall next to Red, his face battered and bloody, watching the doctor. Elvis can’t tell if Jack is sorry or not. Elvis walks towards Jack, his anger tempered only by his concern for you.
“EP!” Jerry says in a warning tone, signaling for the men to flank him.
“I’m fine,” he commands, crouching at Jack’s side.
Jack flinches.
“Are you proud of yourself, Jacky Boy? Are you satisfied, seeing her laid out on the ground like that? Is this what you wanted?” he hisses.
Jack says nothing. He sees the tears in Jack’s eyes, the regret through the pain, and for a second, Elvis almost sees the man he used to know in there.
“Hmm,” he tuts, looking over his friend with disgust, shaking his head. “I’ll deal with you later. And you, too,” he says, with a low, deadly calm, pointedly to Red. Then he rises easily from the floor, his attention on the men with the stretcher who just entered the suite.
“It’s never enough with you, EP, you selfish motherfucker. The man who gets everything he wants, no matter how many lives he has to destroy to get it. The rules never apply to you, do they? Dammit, you coulda had anyone, anyone! Why did it have to be y/n?” Jack spits out mournfully from behind him.
Shame snakes through him, through the anger that continues to boil under just the surface, covering the sorrow that flows under that. There is truth in Jack’s words, he knows that, even though he wants to deny it.
“How long, Elvis?”
He supposes he owes Jack that much, though he doesn’t even turn his head.
“Opening night.”
“No, you bastard. How long have you been in love with my wife?”
The room goes silent yet again.
Elvis turns around, but he cannot bring himself to look Jack in the eyes for a moment. A lifetime of memories flashes through his head, of times much better than this, of times when they had each other’s backs. Ultimately, he knows what Jack has become is partially his fault. Ultimately, he knows it was wrong of him to want you when you weren’t his, wrong to have sex with you, even before the debacle of you and the pills. It was wrong of him to manipulate Jack into marrying you.
As much as he hates Jack right now, he once loved him, and still, he betrayed him.
Jack chuckles darkly, “That fucking long, huh?”
Elvis finally looks Jack in the eyes but says nothing. Nothing he can say will make any of this less of a fiasco. Nothing he can say with make it right, no matter how much he wants to jump in to defend himself, to tell Jack he saw you first, to tell him he wanted you first, to fucking explain that you’re his goddamn soulmate and he’s had to watch you be with someone else for almost two fucking decades.
“Ahhh, and she didn’t even know, did she?” A hint of a smile plays on Jack’s bloodied lips. “Didn’t even give the King the time of day! Well, at least I got that goin’ for me,” he laughs.  
His brow furrows as he fumes, and he steps towards Jack again. Lamar puts himself between the two men.
“It’s fine, Lamar, let him at me. What do I have to lose now anyways?” Jack laughs, which turn suddenly to sobs, “You were my brother. I gave up my life for you! I loved you, man!”
The words cut Elvis to the bone, flooding his fury with more guilt.
“And I love her,” Jack sobs.
“You don’t fucking love her,” Elvis says, infuriated, pushing past Lamar to grab Jack’s chin, wrenching his head to look at you being put on the stretcher. “You hurt her. You been hurtin’ her. And Jack, if she dies, I don’t care what brotherly love was between you and me—I will fucking kill you,” he says, low and vehement in Jack’s ear, for only him to hear.
He pulls back to stare Jack in the eye, to let him know just how serious he is, to make sure he understands that through the pain and the alcohol and whatever pills he might be on.
Jack blinks through his tears and nods his head once, shakily.
Elvis releases him.
Then he steps in behind you, still unconscious, on the stretcher as they take you out of the penthouse and to the elevator.
“EP, I really don’t think it’s a good idea to…” Charlie starts, hustling behind him.
He turns, seeing the stares of the men who have given him their lives to stand by his side. Some of them are befuddled, some understanding and resigned, some even a little suspicious after tonight’s events.
“I don’t give two shits if it’s a good idea or not, I’m goin’ with her. Anyone wanna argue with me about it?” he says impatiently, shooting up an eyebrow.
No one does.
It’s good it’s the middle of the night, otherwise he would’ve caused a huge scene at the hospital. But the nurses and doctors seem to gather by his demeanor that now is not the time for autographs. Instead of putting them in the waiting room, they set up an empty room at the end of the hall for the lot of them, a gruff old nurse warning them they best be quiet and not wake any of the patients before she closes the door on them.
And for the third time in his life, he waits to know your fate.
He waits for you, just as he’s been waiting for you for the last 18 years.
He waits and he prays, though this time, he makes no bargains with God.
He stills when the doctor finally comes to tell him that, yes, you do have a concussion and though you will likely experience symptoms as you recover, you should recover fully. He feels like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders.
When the doctor leads him and him alone back to your room, the doctor mentions the other symptoms you’ll likely experience and that you might have issues with your memory leading up to the event. Elvis cannot help but chuckle at that.
“Oh, I’m betting she will,” he says under his breath, though this time, he thinks it might be best after what you went through tonight.
He sits by your side in the quiet, dimmed room, and is taken aback by the angry bruising already spreading over your beautiful face. His fury at Jack swells through him once more, followed immediately by sadness. You look so innocent and fragile lying there. Suddenly, he feels afraid to touch you, as though you might break.
So, he waits. He waits for you to wake and he prays. He thinks of the lifetime he’s had without you and the life he wants with you going forward. And this time, he knows he won’t be leaving your side for anyone or anything.
But his secrets still lay heavy and dark on his heart. There are those things he cannot tell you of that day at Graceland so long ago, and the things he still cannot bring himself to admit to, like his confession of love as you almost died in his arms and his meddling in your life. He doesn’t want to tell you how all of it has led to you lying here in this hospital, hurt and fragile but somehow still his, he hopes.
He doesn’t know what he’s going to do about it yet, so for now he just waits for you to come back to him.
He’s been too rough with you, he thinks, in his quest to show you how you are his. Pushing you too hard to keep up with his rockstar lifestyle and his insatiable need for you sexually has not been good for you. You’re exhausted, not eating, and have been on an emotional rollercoaster for days, and he was too consumed by his own selfishness to listen, so much so that he almost drove you away. The hurt, the feeling of pure panic that shot through him when you said you were leaving was enough to bring him to his knees, but of course, he could not tell you that. He couldn’t show you that weakness. Instead, he’d covered it with anger and passion, fucking you into submission.
He realizes his dominance, while fun in the bedroom, is perhaps masking his true feelings. He has told you in so many words how desperate he is for you, how he wants you to be with him, to let him take care of you, how he is yours, that he needs you. But in truth, he is afraid. Afraid that you don’t and never will feel the same towards him as he does towards you. That it is only his coercion, manipulation, and his sexual prowess that keeps you here with him. No matter how much you say you are his and that you will stay as he fucks it out of you, he’s not convinced that you’ll feel the same in the light of day, of your own accord.
Lord, the way you said you needed him tonight flashed him right back to that first time with you at Graceland. The time you don’t remember. He is putty in your hands now, just as he was then. But that need of yours was only sexual. If it is truly just sex for you and you are only staying for that…well, that scares him and makes him want to hold onto you so tightly that you can’t leave even if you wanted to.
If you don’t ever feel that same pull inside your heart, in your soul, that he has for you, he’s not sure what he will do.
Gone is the bravado and confidence gleaned from years of being Elvis Presley. Instead, he sits here at your bedside feeling stripped to his core: a nervous, stuttering boy with a funny name who loves you more than life itself. He is that boy who picked your books up off the ground, the one who you calmed backstage with your sweetness and wit. For you and you alone, he is just Elvis. And he’s worried he won’t recover if you don’t ever grow to love him.
Anxiety courses through him, a throbbing pulse that serves to remind him that for all he has and is in this world, he is still only a man. And you are the girl who has comforted him through some of his worst moments, yet now after all this time he’s still terrified to let you truly see him. If he lets you in, you will see him for all that he is and all the terrible parts of himself he’s ashamed of: his selfishness and possessiveness, his overindulgence, his obsessive tendencies, his goddamned vanity and ego. His secrets. If you know the things he’s kept from you, he’s not sure you’ll ever forgive him. Certainly, you could not love him.
His heart aches at that thought, flooding him with despair. He needs you so badly that he cannot bear to risk showing you everything; however, a deep part of him wants to flay himself bare to you, to expose himself in a way that he has never done before, not with anyone.
Elvis puts his head on the bed near your hand. He is going to be gentler with you, especially after tonight. He will prove to you that he is worthy of your love, that this is so much more than just sex. He’s going to take care of you and give you the life you’ve always deserved.
God has humbled him once again tonight, and he knows he must do better.
He loves you so deeply he can hardly breathe.
So, he waits. He prays.
And he hopes that one day, you will love him, too.
*
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caapsiizzereads · 6 months
Text
The greatest films of all time were never made
Chapter 1 of If my wishes came true, it would’ve been you
Warnings: none for this chapter i think
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“This one looks interesting.”
“This one at least looks like something.”
“It’s like yin yung but with swans.”
Jamie’s not sure what he’s doing here – he has never been much of an art connoisseur. So how did he get here? Keeley, of course. She was gushing about this amazing art exhibition that she was going to go with a friend, she even managed to get invitations to the opening night. Unfortunately, at the last minute, something came up and she couldn’t go, so Jamie just had to go instead of her. She promised that he and Jenna, her “date”, would definitely get along. Jamie’s not stupid, he knows when he’s being set up. He doesn't think Keeley was even trying to hide it that much. And he trusts her enough to know that she wouldn’t do this unless she really thought that it was worth a shot, so he went with it. And so far, it has been going well. Nothing extraordinary, but better than he expected. Jenna is nice, she’s pretty, she’s chatty, easygoing, and she seems to be really enjoying the exhibition.
“Oh, I know this one!” Jamie finally sees a painting he can recognize. “Never understood what’s so special about it. It’s just lines and squares.”
“To be honest, me neither. But I guess there is something if people are willing to pay millions for it.” Jenna moves on to the next artwork. “What about this one?” Just some funky doodles, if you ask Jamie. “‘Youth’,” she reads the name.
“This is just a bunch of colorful shapes, I could do that.”
“And this is ‘Childhood’ and ‘Old Age’,” she gestures at the two paintings near them. “It says it’s a series of ten paintings, ‘The Ten Largest’, each one representing a stage in a human’s life.”
“It’s still a bunch of doodles.”
“I don’t know, I like these. Now I wanna see what the other seven look like.”
“I’m sure it’s on the internet.”
While Jenna is trying to look up the paintings online, Jamie looks around the gallery. The room is filled with men in fancy suits and women in expensive dresses, a bunch of waiters serving champagne, and security guards.
Many people seem to know each other, engaging in conversations or staring profoundly at the artworks. A bunch of posh twats is what Jamie would call them. Ain’t no way even half of them know what the fuck they are staring at. Not that he does either, but at least he can admit it.
Jamie’s about to conclude his observations when something catches his eye. Just for a brief moment, he thinks he saw a familiar face – one Jamie used to know so well. He doesn’t quite believe it at first, but then he looks again, and there it is. A bit different now, but Jamie would still recognize it anywhere. Wearing a silky black dress, with a glass of champagne in her hand and a charming smile on her face, she was standing right there, talking to a couple so called posh twats. Y/n.
She meets his eyes for a second as her head moves, and then she pauses, her eyes going back to him and surprise visible on her face.
Too soon, one of the rich-looking old men approaches her and snatches her attention, an easy smile appearing on her face again as she joins another conversation.
“Look.” Jamie hears Jenna talk. He looks back at her to see her showing her phone screen to him. There are the paintings from the series: different colors, same vibe.
“Yeah, cool,” is all Jamie can come up with.
Another half an hour goes by, and Jamie just continues following Jenna around the room. But while Jenna is looking at the art, Jamie’s a lot more interested in the crowd now. He keeps searching for Y/n’s face again and again as she makes her way through the gallery. She meets his eyes a couple of times, but other than that her attention stays on the people she’s talking to. Does she know all of them? Does she attend such events often? Is it the crowd she hangs out with now? Well, art has always been her thing. But rich twats and small talk? Not so much.
They stop in front of another painting: a red tree on a blue background.
“Why is the tree red?” Jamie says the first thing on his mind.
“Because it’s impressionism, and the painting is called ‘The Red Tree’.” Jamie’s heart skips a beat at the sound of an oh so familiar voice.
“This one stands out, you know, from all the squares,” Jenna smiles at Y/n.
“It does,” Y/n chuckles. “This is one of Mondrian’s earlier works, before he really dove into the whole abstractionism thing. He’s actually quite known for his paintings of trees, but this one is the most remarkable, in my opinion. It’s one of the first works where he used his famous red-blue-yellow color scheme.”
“That’s so interesting. You’re an art fan?”
“Kinda. I work here, so that helps.” Wait, what?
“Oh, that’s amazing! What’s your favorite piece here?”
“Well, I love this,” Y/n points at the painting in front of them. “But between us, af Klint is my favorite here. Have you seen ‘The Swan’?”
“Yes! I thought it was very interesting, but Jamie didn’t share my enthusiasm,” Jenna playfully puts her hand on Jamie’s arm, and he smiles awkwardly at Y/n.
“That checks out.” She smiles knowingly at him for a brief second. “The abstract one next to it is actually from the same series. There are a lot of them, but those two are the only ones I could get here. But No. 1 is my favorite anyway. I also love all of her botanical drawings.”
“We haven’t got to them yet.”
“You absolutely should. They are very simple, but I guess that’s exactly why I like them. ‘Violet Blossoms’ is my personal favorite.”
“We’ll definitely check them out. Must be so cool, always being surrounded by art?”
“Oh, you should ask the artists. I am mostly surrounded by paperwork,” Y/n huffs a laugh.
It’s very weird watching a woman that he’s just met today and a woman that he’s known for half of his life but hasn’t seen in years casually chatting right in front of him. And he’s not even part of the conversation.
“I really love this exhibition, though. You did a fantastic job with it.”
“Thank you, I’m glad you like it. Well, I’m gonna leave you to it. Hope you enjoy your evening.” Y/n smiles so casually at Jamie, as if he’ll be able to think about anything but her for the rest of the night. Maybe for the rest of his life.
“Thank you!” Jenna easily returns her smile.
And just like that, Y/n was gone. And Jamie’s still standing there like an idiot, watching her disappear in the crowd again. He had spent years wondering if he would ever get to talk to her again, and now that she was right there standing in front of him, all he could do was just stand there smiling awkwardly at her because he couldn’t come up with a single coherent thing to say.
They finish their walk-through. Jenna shares Y/n’s appreciation for the flower drawings, and knowing that Y/n loves them makes Jamie see something special in them too. They kinda remind him of the drawings Y/n used to sketch in her notebook when she couldn’t care enough to pay attention to the class.
Jamie drives Jenna back to her place and walks her to the front door, being a gentleman and all. She opens the door and stands facing him. Jamie can tell that he’s welcome to come in.
“The gallery curator, do you know her?” That was not what he expected her to say.
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know, just seemed like she was the only thing that really interested you tonight.” There’s no bitterness in her tone, just curiosity, maybe.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t–”
“No, no. It’s fine, I didn’t mean it like that. I had a good time tonight. But I think we both can do better.” She smiles at him.
“Yeah, yeah, me too. Had a good time.”
“You can still come in, you know. No strings attached. Just a little bit more of a good time.”
“I think I’m good.” Jenna smiles knowingly.
Jamie spends the whole drive home and the rest of the night trying to process what the hell has happened. And the date that he was supposedly on didn’t even make the front page of the things on his mind. It’s all Y/n, Y/n, Y/n.
He didn’t even know that she lives in London now. Well, probably. She has to if she said that she works in the gallery. And it makes no sense for him to be surprised that he didn’t know – he hadn’t talked to her in half a decade. Six years, to be precise. Of course, that’s plenty of time to move. But it still feels weird to know that she has been so close, and he had no idea. How long has she been here? Has she thought about him over those years? Does she even want to talk to him after how things ended between them?
There is no way Jamie could ever just let this go now. He knows it will eat him alive if he doesn’t at least try to reach out to her. If she tells him to go fuck himself, well, he proabably deserves it. But if there’s even a small chance that Jamie could get her back in his life, he will take it.
Knowing where Y/n works is a pretty good start – he knows for a fact how to find her. Jamie checks the gallery’s work hours and settles to wait for her outside. Like a creep. But, hey, they know each other, so it doesn’t count.
Almost an hour passes after the closing before Y/n walks out of the gallery, waving goodbye to one of her coworkers. She starts walking to her car while reaching into her coat’s pocket for the keys.
“Y/n!” She stops, then slowly turns around to the source of the familiar voice. “Hi,” Jamie smiles sheepishly at her.
“Hi.”
“We didn’t really get a chance to talk yesterday, and I really hoped that we could… so…”
“So you were waiting for me outside of my work like a stalker?” she suggests.
“Maybe. So can we? Talk?”
“Now? Here?” she gestures at the surrounding parking lot.
“We can meet up? Like for dinner or something?”
“Yeah, sure.” Jamie lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Give me your number? I, uh, tried to call you once a few years back, it said your number was no longer working.”
“Oh, yeah, got a new one. Hold on.” Y/n takes her phone and opens the keypad, turning the screen towards Jamie.
He starts typing out his number. “So you live in London now?”
“Mhm, moved a couple of years ago.” Jamie pressed the call button, and his phone lights up with a number.
“Are you free tomorrow?”
“No, sorry. The day after?”
“Away match, gonna be gone till Saturday. Sunday?”
“Yes, Sunday works.”
“Mint.”
“See you soon, then,” Y/n smiles at him before taking the car keys back in her hand.
“See you.”
Jamie didn’t realize how anxious he was about this meeting until he was walking back to his car, feeling like his steps were a hundred times lighter and a smile was growing on his face.
Sunday couldn’t have come soon enough. Jamie and Y/n agreed on the time and place over texts, and Jamie offered to pick her up, but she declined. Jamie has never been this nervous before any date, and this is not even a date. Just two old friends catching up. Could he even still call them friends? He wants to believe that yes, but realistically, six years, almost seven, is a long fucking time. Jamie knows that a lot has happened in his life since the last time he saw Y/n, and knowing her, just as much has probably happened in hers. On the brighter side, she didn't seem to be mad at him. So maybe six years is also enough time for her to forget why they haven’t talked for that long in the first place. Either way, this is the chance that Jamie was hoping for, and he will not waste it.
Jamie gets dressed, nice enough but not too dressed up, and makes sure to arrive on time. Just a few minutes later, Y/n gets there too. Jamie stands up as she makes her way to the table, feeling his mouth go dry.
“You look good.” Jamie goes for casual.
“Thank you, you too,” she smiles at him.
“So…” How is it that Jamie has spent every waking hour thinking about what he’s going to say to Y/n, but every time she’s in front of him, no words can come out of his mouth?
Fortunately, Y/n spares him the awkwardness. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been good, yeah. Won the match yesterday.”
“That’s great! Who were you playing with?” Jamie can’t tell if she really cares or is just asking to be polite.
“Brentford.” Y/n is smiling and nodding, Jamie recognizes this one. “You don’t know who they are, do you?”
“No idea,” she chuckles. “But you won, so I guess they’re not as good, huh.”
“Maybe we’re just that good.”
“We, as in AFC Richmond?” She teases.
“That’s a long story…”
“And there’s a reality show involved somewhere in there.”
“Oh my God, you saw that?” Jamie wants the earth to swallow him whole.
“Some parts of it. Honestly, Jamie, I thought I raised you better than that.”
“Not my finest moment.”
“But, hey, look at you now. Heard you’re playing for the national team now. And Roy Kent’s your manager! This is, like, your childhood wet dream.”
“It was not!”
“Is his poster still on your wall? Do not lie to me.” Y/n squints at him.
“I don’t live in that room anymore!”
“So it is still there.”
“Oh, fuck off!” They both laugh. And it feels so fucking good. Just like the old times – Y/n teasing him, laughing together, just talking like two friends.
“Okay, that’s not fair. I don’t know anything about you,” Jamie starts again after their little laugh break. “How have you been? I mean, running a gallery? That’s awesome.”
“Well, I don’t run it. I’m just a curator. But yeah, it is pretty cool. I’ve been doing alright.”
“Never thought I’d see you living in England again, to be honest.”
A weird look flickers in Y/n’s eyes before she puts her perfect smile back in place. “Yeah, well, it was a long way. Loved Paris, and, God, Amsterdam was great, but in the end I decided to be closer to my family.”
Jamie beams. “How’s Natalie? How’s Amelia? She’s what, fourteen now?”
“Fifteen. God, she’s a handful.”
“It runs in the family,” Jamie says with a cheeky grin.
Y/n snorts. “Evidently.”
“Mom said you sold your house.”
“Oh, yeah, it was, like, five years ago. Nat finally decided to move to London. Oh my God, how’s Georgie? Her and Simon still together?”
“She’s good, yes. They got married!”
“Oh, that’s great! Told you he’s a good guy!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. She asks about you sometimes, you know.”
“Well, tell her that I’m doing well and sending her my best wishes.”
“Will do.” Jamie and Y/n smile warmly at each other across the table.
They end up talking for hours. Jamie tells Y/n about meeting Roy for the first time, about his Richmond teammates, and (by Y/n’s demand) about Keeley. Y/n tells him crazy stories from her university years, about all the places she’s lived in before moving to London, and about the struggles of raising a teenager.
When it gets late and they walk out of the restaurant, Jamie offers to give Y/n a ride again, which she accepts this time.
Jamie stops by her place, and they exchange goodbyes. “Tell Natalie and Meli I said hi. Would love to see them some time too.”
“I’ll tell them. It was nice seeing you, Jamie,” she smiles at him.
“Yeah, you too.” Y/n reaches for the door handle when Jamie speaks up again. “Wait.” She looks back at him. “Can I ask you something?” A nod. “You knew all this stuff, like who I play for and, uh, other. How?”
Y/n huffs a laugh. “You’re not exactly a low profile person. Sometimes Nat would say something, since she was more subjected to the Premier League news… and certain reality shows.” Jamie internally cringes at the thought that Y/n’s sister has seen it too. “And I have the Internet too, you know. Got curious a couple of times, wanted to see how you’re doing, so I googled you. Pretty convenient.”
“Right.” Knowing that Y/n has thought of him over those past years too, even enough to look him up, gives Jamie the courage to ask the question that he’s dreaded hearing the answer for. “You’re not mad at me?”
“For what?” Y/n asks genuinely.
“For the way I… for how I acted back then.” Y/n understands what he means.
She doesn’t seem to share Jamie’s inner turmoil regarding the past, though. “It was a long time ago, Jamie. People fall apart, it happens.”
“But not us,” Jamie says desperately. “It was my fault. And I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”
Y/n regards him for a moment, as if trying to figure something out, then she nods. “Okay.”
“Do you think we can be friends again?” Jamie asks hopefully.
“If you want.”
“I do!”
“You have my number,” she smiles at him one last time.
You sigh as you drop the keys on the hall tree and take off your shoes. You hear the noise coming from the living room, and when you walk in there, you find Amelia stretched on the couch, surrounded by a bunch of empty takeout boxes, watching TV. “Glad you’re enjoying your night,” you greet her.
“I left you a piece of cake,” she nods towards the bitten slice of cake that she clearly just couldn't finish.
“That’s so kind of you,” you say with obvious irony.
“Did you enjoy yours?” she grins at you.
“It was alright.”
“Just alright?”
You sit on the arm of the couch. “Kinda weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Like when you watch the first two seasons of a show and then go straight to season twelve. The faces are familiar, but you have no idea what the fuck is going on.”
“Out of the two of us, you’re the only one who does this, but I get what you mean. Did you do a recap? You know, like a ‘previously on…’?”
“Yeah, something like that. But, you know, it’s been a while.” She nods thoughtfully. You look at the TV screen, some action movie playing there. “What are you watching?”
“Uncharted.”
“Tom Holland game movie?”
“Mhm. I can finish later, you wanna watch something together?”
“Sure, just let me go change.”
You change into your home clothes and join Amelia on the couch.
“You never said why you stopped talking. I remember he was always around, and then he just wasn’t,” she says while you’re watching the Disney+ loading screen.
“Well, I moved to Paris, and he started playing full-time. And then he just kinda… ghosted me.”
“Asshole.”
You snort. “I know, right? He apologized, actually. Didn’t expect that.”
“You’re going to see him again?” She starts scrolling through the suggested shows.
“I don’t know. Maybe. He offered us to come to a match if you want.”
“Maybe,” Amelia replies noncommittally. “The Mandalorian?” She clicks on the show’s icon.
“Yes.” You pick up the uneaten piece of cake and lean back onto the couch cushions, resting your feet on the side table. Now, that’s a man that you’re always happy to see.
A/N: writing this fic while i’m dying inside and falling behind on my uni deadlines😗✌️
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sgiandubh · 8 months
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Hitting a nerve, again
Dear @outlanderfandomfollies,
You took an extraordinary amount of time to lecture me on your blog with regard to one of my comments about the (in)famous funeral pictures. This deserves a reply and I hope you will understand it is done in good faith, although I cannot guarantee you that my answer will be devoid of irony. I am who I am, even if my opinions clearly vex you: I am sorry, but there is little I can do to accommodate you in that respect.
Fair enough, then. I took a stroll on your two blogs yesterday and I have to say I am underwhelmed. The thousands of words, the hundreds of pages, all that Taj Mahal of wisdom so liberally, relentlessly bestowed upon us, ignoramuses, was not enough to shake my beliefs. And pardon me the approximation: trying to make sense of what you wrote left such a strange aftertaste, that I did not pay enough attention to such details. Stupid me.
I have to say I was just starting to enjoy your very interesting interpretation of Jungian archetypes as applied to JAMMF. It did also remind me of Richard Campbell's Hero With A Thousand Faces, to be completely honest. I wanted more of that: a non-biased and personal interpretation of a beloved literary character. So, I am asking you in all honesty: why do your approach and your tone change, from professional to patronizing, when you deal with this side of the fandom, including me?
You present yourself as an independent blogger within the OL fandom. That, in my humble opinion, is a bias and a lie. There can be no independence in the current context of cold war, with the "truthers"' side bucketing out insults on a daily basis, with no prompting and no provocation from the shippers. You probably know as well as I do how the spiel works, via multiple spy sock accounts, anonymous submissions often sent to oneself and yes, rivers of "stupid shippers, idiot shippers". You also know and yet keep complete silence about it, that sensitive information is always exchanged in DMs and private groups, primarily out of respect for the people concerned (and also because that is none of your business, Antis).
Your very peculiar orientation is also something that ethically nags me. Independent, yet aligned. I find this fascinating, truly: it reminds me of an Eastern European tyrant's game of promoting himself for years to the West as aligned with the Soviets, yet independent from them. True story.
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In the side note at the end of your long (loooooong) intervention about a mere comment expressing an opinion, you write:
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I am asking you and I would appreciate a serious, well-researched answer (a girl can dream): exactly which boundaries did I (and I really mean I, Sgiandubh, not "shippers": that is very cheap rhetoric and I expected better from you) cross by simply expressing an opinion that disagreed with your POV?
For comparison purposes, an example of a very recent, supremely suave comment on one of the major Anti players' blogs. We never read any well-articulated protestations from you on those, ever: it is as if they do not exist. Heh. Talking about bias, when it's all about hiding the Antis' garbage under a skillfully woven carpet of scientific jargon:
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And since you love side notes and caveats and all the critical apparatus paraphernalia, let me be very clear: I blurred the blogger's name on purpose, and not by cowardice. I blurred it because it is perfectly irrelevant, in this context and at the same time, very representative of a certain dominating vibe, in your camp, about OL's male lead. Something I believe you, as an independent (let's not forget aligned) blogger, should have no trouble taking a strong stance about.
Oh, the stench of intolerance, from the same person who wrote this, in 2016, on her blog:
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Yes, yes. I know you also wrote your opinions changed with time and adventures along this long-winding, twisted road. Yet, I cannot help but thinking that a walk down this particular memory lane could bring more serenity and more clarity to your fandom endeavors.
I have no wish to attack you and I am not the insulting type, unlike some of your fellows. But I also do not need a laissez-passer sealed, stamped and delivered by you (with which authority?), in order to continue my journey. I would be very happy to settle on a non-aggression 'we agree to disagree' , keep calm and carry on common ground. At the very worst, I will simply ignore you and would be very grateful if you did the same. I simply feel I owe you absolutely nothing, including my time and attention.
Cordially yours,
Sgian-dubh, stupid shipper
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Text
Friendly Sex - Chapter 11 - The Cheerleader
Hey everyone, sorry for the delay in uploading, life has been kicking my ass. Fingers crossed Chapter 12 will be up over the next couple of days, I thank each and every one of you for sticking through this with me. This chapter is very dialogue heavy, so apologies if that's not your vibe, and there isn't any smut. But we have lots of angst yay!
Chapter warnings: MDI (18+ only), explicit language, smoking, underage drinking (USA), ANGST.
_______________________________________________
You eventually give your dad the highly abridged version of events. You had been seeing a boy from school, the boy he disapproved of from the parking lot, which did not garner the best reaction, and that things had come to an abrupt and messy end.
Only your dad could cuddle the life out of you whilst simultaneously grounding you for the foreseeable, school and work being the only exceptions to the rule, otherwise you were on house arrest. You had spent the rest of the evening crying in his arms, whilst he muttered reassurances.
Monday rolled around overcast and dull, but you were exceptionally glad for the long weekend, finding it hard to believe what had happened within the last 72hrs. Your only plan was to spend the day stagnating in your own misery, so it’s a surprise when Robin turns up at your bedroom door just before 11am with a bag full of chocolate, you feel your bottom lip wobble at the sight of your best-friend.
“You look like shit.” She sighs, dropping heavily on the bed and taking you into her arms, smoothing out your ratted hair, rocking you back and forth. “Your dad called me, figured you needed some female support. I take it everything is fucked?”
“I’ve messed up so bad Robin, I - how could I do it to him?” You whimper tearfully, your throat constricted with sobs, head in her lap. “I can’t go to school tomorrow, I can’t face him.” You shudder, the guilt overwhelming you. “And then there’s Steve, everything is ruined.”
“Steve-? What about Steve?” She asks sharply.
Robin spent the next hour screaming down your phone to Steve, not even your dad dared telling her to moderate her language.
“Are you a fucking moron Harrington?! Have you learnt nothing?!”
“No - no don’t give me that shit. God, I can’t believe I'm friends with such an extraordinary idiot! I leave you alone for a day Steve, a goddamn day!”
“I don’t care dingus, you’re making this right - yes - yes you are. This is some real King Steve crap, you know that?!”
“Good, I'm glad you feel like shit, it’s nothing compared to how Y/n feels! And Eddie! - Of course I knew, unlike you I'm not a blind idiot.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you. You should be talking to Nancy, you know your girlfriend?”
“Uh-huh - yeah - no I’ll walk - because I don’t wanna ride with you - the Russians are gone Steve - ok fine see you in the morning - but you’re still a douchebag.”
_______________________________________________
Your dad drops you to school the following morning, with a firm command that he would be picking up again at 4pm on the dot. You look rough, there’s no other word for it. Robin had coaxed you into taking a perfunctory shower for the sake of hygiene before she left, but you had gone to bed with your hair still wet; now haphazardly piled on your head like a bird’s nest, wearing your baggiest clothes as though the fabric could hide you from the world. You were so caught up in your misery that you walked straight into Dustin, his arms shooting out to steady you. Where there was Dustin there was Steve, leaning against the hood of his car looking guilty, Robin shooting daggers at him.
“You ok Y/n?” Dustin asks concerned.
“I’m good, thanks Dustin, sorry for -” You trail off gesturing at your collision.
“Oh it’s no biggie, I’m a strong guy, I can take it.” He grins toothily, sweet kid, patting you clumsily on the arm. Robin pushes Steve towards you, where he stands scruffing his sneakers against the asphalt in a most un-Steve-like fashion.
“Can we talk?” He asks quietly, not meeting your eye.
“I have nothing to say to you.” You say, crossing your arms defensively.
“Please, Y/n, I want - I want to make things right between us.” He pleads softly, you glance at Robin who nods in a ‘give him a chance’ sort of way.
“Fine, you get 10 minutes.” You huff, throwing yourself into the passenger seat.
There was a time, not so long ago, that you would have given anything to be sat alone with Steve in his precious BMW, now you feel borderline claustrophobic as he drives a little ways from the school, pulling off a small dirt road killing the engine.
“Thanks for agreeing to speak to me - it’s more than I deserve.” He sighs.
“You got that right, what the hell were you thinking?” You snap, staring resolutely out the passenger window.
“I wasn’t thinking, I just - I care so much about you honey -” Steve reasons, but you see red, cutting him off.
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it Steve, if you wanted to be mad at someone it should have been me, not Eddie.” You force his name out through clenched teeth, eyes once again swimming with tears. “So why now? Why the sudden interest?” You ask sharply, wiping angrily at your cheeks, turning to finally look at him. He’s slumped down in his seat, one hand pressed to his forehead.
“Things between me and Nancy haven’t been good lately, I thought after everything that happened last year we were back on track, but I think she just wanted some familiarity after Jonathon upped and left. The things that broke us up last time are still there, I want to work on them y’know but Nance - she just keeps pushing me away.” He says sadly.
“So you thought you’d ruin my relationship to make yourself feel better?” You snipe petulantly, not in the mood to listen to Steve’s woes.
“No - no that’s not what I wanted.” He sighs deeply again, sitting up straighter. “But - you were right yesterday, what you said about me not noticing you before, I took you for granted. These past two months you’ve been so talkative, and funny, and you just started to - I don’t know - shine?”
“Because of Eddie.” You mumble. 
“I guess so.” Steve nods slowly in agreement.
“So you noticed me and thought I'd just leap into your arms the minute you wanted me to?” You ask flatly.
“I thought - maybe if some random guy had a shot and things weren’t serious -” Steve struggles to find the words before nodding again, this time in defeat. “Yeah I guess that’s exactly what I thought.”
You snort in derision, picking at a small rip on the knee of your jeans, two months ago you would have run to Steve like a dog being called back to its owner and the thought makes you embarrassed. The hold he had over you and yet hadn’t even been aware of it.
“Stacey Sharp’s 14th birthday.” You mutter.
“Huh?” Steve asks blankly.
“That’s the day I fell in love with you. I was only there because I lived on the same street as her and Dad made me go. I was so afraid of the bigger kids so I just sat on the edge of the pool. Carol Perkins pushed me in, and I wasn’t a strong swimmer, you jumped in after me. Gave Carol a piece of your mind and helped me find a towel.” You talk quietly, like you might disturb the memory. “Then you walked me back to my house -”
“- your dad made us PB&J sandwiches, we ate them in your driveway.” He says slowly. “I remember. You - you’ve liked me for that long?” He asks, holding your gaze.
“Yeah, like I said, overlooked.” You say with a wry smile.
“Y/n, honey, I may have overlooked you romantically, but I’ve always valued your friendship.”
You lapse into strained silence, there was so much more to be said, but you were emotionally exhausted, stuck in some hellish purgatory.
“Can I - can I just try something? To be sure?” He asks jerkily.
“What?” You whisper, suddenly caught by the look in Steve’s eyes, it was a smouldering look that you had always wished would be thrown your way.
“Just - come here.” He sighs, leaning across the console.
You hold your breath as Steve moves closer, his hands lightly holding your face, eyes darting across your own. Was this actually happening? He licks his lower lip and you unconsciously mirror him, unsure who closes the remaining distance, mouth finally meeting yours in a light press. He tentatively deepens the kiss and the effect is instantaneous, both of you pulling back looking confusedly at each other, your chest heaving.
It was as though you were seeing him properly for the first time, gone was the little glowing golden aura that used to surround him, all that remained was plain old Steve.
“That - that felt weird right?” Steve asks, grimacing.
“Oh my god, so weird!” You gasp, pressing your lips together sheepishly to suppress a giggle. “It felt like I was kissing a relative.” 
“Yes! Exactly that!” He says with enthusiasm, sighing in relief that you aren’t upset. “What a mess huh?” He laughs wryly, as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.
“6 years of pining and we’re not even compatible!” You say laughing openly now, almost hysterical at the absolute bitch of a hand life had dealt you.
“Better as friends?” He asks hesitantly, chuckling along with you.
“100% better as friends.” You smile softly, Steve takes your hand, pressing an affectionate kiss to the back.
  The levity you feel is short-lived, whilst it’s wonderful to have your friendship with Steve semi back on track, your relationship with Eddie was still very much up in flames. 
“What am I gonna do Steve?” You mumble sadly.
“You talk to him.” He says plainly.
“He doesn’t want to talk to me, I’ll be lucky if he ever even breathes in my direction again.” You sigh, leaning heavily back into the seat, feet up on the dashboard, if Steve minds he has the sense not to reprimand you.
“You love him?” It’s not like the weekend when his tone was accusatory, this time it’s gentle and genuinely curious.
You chew at your thumb, ignoring the sharp sting from the already sore worried skin. That was the million dollar question, the one you had been pondering for weeks, the one you desperately wanted to answer, but slipped away from you every time. If you couldn’t be honest with Steve, how were you ever going to be honest with Eddie? 
“Yeah - yeah I think I do.” You say, the realization hitting you like a tonne of bricks.
“Then you gotta talk to him, no matter how hard it might be.” Steve advises.
“Ok, but you have to promise me something.” You say turning fully in your seat to face him. “Talk to Nancy, all that stuff you said to me at work about her, that’s still there too Steve.”
_______________________________________________
Steve had returned you to school with a hug, and a promise that he would have a heart to heart with Nancy. The rest of the morning grinds by at an agonizingly slow pace, but when the lunch bell finally rings you’re ready to cut and run, you don’t know if you can cope being in the cafeteria with Eddie, wondering if he hates you or not.
“You gotta eat something babe.” Robin sighs, nudging an apple in your direction.
“‘M not hungry.” You mumble, staring resolutely at the polished concrete floor.
“Tell that to your thumb.” She says, pulling it away from your mouth, wincing at how angry it looks.
You glance up, and immediately catch Eddie’s eye, heart beating frantically in response. He also appears to not be eating, barely engaged with the conversation around him, bags under his eyes and mouth pulled down in a small frown.
“I- I gotta go.” You blurt to Robin, already pushing yourself away from the table, practically sprinting the length of the room. You don’t stop running until you barrel into the girl’s bathroom, sobbing openly, arms braced on the porcelain sink, eyes squeezed shut, breathing hard.
“Y/n…? You ok?” A soft feminine voice jolts you, Chrissy Cunningham is hovering by a stall, looking concerned.
You push back from the sink, roughly wiping at your face with your sleeve.
“I’m - yeah I’m fine - Chrissy.” You stammer. “Thanks.” You add somewhat lamely.
Through the fog of your own misery you notice Chrissy’s cheeks are also wet, eyes similarly red, she’s shaking slightly leaning against the toilet door, pulling the sleeves of her cardigan over her hands.
“You ok?” You ask slowly, she nods quickly but alarmingly dissolves into tears. You surge forward surprising yourself, bringing her into your arms, she hugs you back tightly, her small frame quaking.
“J-Jason and I, we - we’ve broken up.” She cries.
Well shit, what fresh karmic hell is this? 
“But - you seemed so good together?” You say falteringly, if you were honest you had never paid much heed to Hawkins High’s power couple, your social standing allowed you to slip under the radar of most cliques and that suited you fine; but Jason and Chrissy always seemed like a perfect pairing, beautiful, popular, both generally well liked. 
“He’s been given a full sports scholarship at Syracuse in the fall, he doesn’t think it’ll work with the distance.” Chrissy sniffles.
“I’m so sorry Chrissy - he’s a massive dick if he’s not willing to try at least.” You soothe, allowing her space as she pulls back with the smallest of laughs.
“What about you?” She asks kindly, gesturing to your watery eyes.
“It doesn’t matter, just some boy trouble of my own, nothing I can’t handle.” You lie trying to sound casual.
She nods in understanding, pulling some toilet paper out for you both, she dabs delicately at her face whilst you drag the tissue over your eyes.
“I know we’ve never really spoken much, but I’ve always liked you Y/n.” She smiles shyly. “You should come to my pre-graduation party this weekend.” She offers.
“That’s really nice of you Chrissy, but I’m grounded, no parties for me.” You say awkwardly, throwing your used tissue into the trash can.
“Well if you manage to sneak out or something, it would be great to see you there.” She pulls you in for another hug, and you tentatively pat her on the back, feeling like you’ve fallen into the Twilight Zone.
Try as you might you don’t manage to see Eddie for the rest of the day, you’re tempted to go to the picnic bench at 4pm, risking a permanent grounding from your dad, but his van is already gone from the parking lot by the time you emerge..
You spend the rest of the evening crying intermittently in your room, the pattern broken only by Robin calling to see how things went with Steve.
_______________________________________________
Tuesday… 
Eddie avoids you in the corridors, turning resolutely in the opposite direction each time he spots you.
He’s not in the cafeteria at lunchtime, when you ask Dustin he says he’s busy with band stuff.
Wednesday…
Eddie ignores you when you call his name across the parking lot, striding to his van without a second glance.
Thursday…
You call Eddie’s house only for Wayne to answer.
“He’s not here darlin’, but I'll tell him you called.”
Friday…
You manage to corner Gareth in the library, dropping into a seat next to him, determined to speak to Eddie.
“Look, I don’t know what happened between you guys, but Eddie - he’s super cut up about it. He’s been throwing himself into practice but he’s not right.” Gareth whispers.
“I fucked up Gareth and I need to fix it, but I can’t do that unless I can speak to Eddie.” You say urgently, heads tucked tight together to avoid the wrath of Mrs Giles, the overbearing librarian.
“We’re playing The Hideout tomorrow night at 7.” He mumbles.
“You are literally the best.” You sigh in relief, throwing your arms around his neck, earning a small pat and blush from Gareth.
“Just do me a solid, maybe speak to him after our set, and not before? This could be a big gig for us.” He says cautiously.
You feel somewhat lighter as the school day draws to a close, knowing that you may finally be able to speak to Eddie, without him running off so easily. You go to collect your bag from your locker when a neon flier is thrust in front of your face, Chance from the basketball team grinning cockily at you.
“Hey there pretty girl. Wanna go to a bitchin’ party tomorrow?” He grins in what you believe is an attempt at a charming smile but it comes across as slightly seedy.
“Do people still say bitchin’?” You deadpan, snatching the flier without looking, stuffing it into your purse
“All the cool ones, yeah.” He laughs and you find yourself smiling falsely, squeezing past him. “So I’ll see you there?” He calls after you. You walk away without a word, focusing on the task ahead of you.
The minute you get home from school you call Steve at work.
“Family Video, Steve speaking, how may I help?”
“Steve, it’s me, and I need a favour.” You say quietly, making sure your bedroom door is shut tight.
“Why do I have the feeling I’m not going to enjoy this favour?” He asks in trepidation. 
“I’m grounded, but Eddie is playing at The Hideout tomorrow night, I need you to come pick me up at six-thirty and tell my dad I have to work the closing shift with you.”
“I dunno Y/n, lying to your dad, that’s a good way for me to get my ass kicked.” Steve says slowly. “Why don’t you just say you’re staying at Robin’s?”
“I’ve used Robin too many times, and he’s only letting me out of the house for school and work. Come on, Steve, you owe me this, please.” You plead, biting your lip. You hear him sigh heavily, as he works through his feelings of unease. 
“Alright, fine, but if your dad finds out, it’s your ass on the line.” He says finally.
_______________________________________________
Steve picks you up the following evening as agreed, your dad none the wiser as you leave in your work uniform, pressing a parting kiss to his cheek. You clamber into the back of Steve’s car, already stripping before you’re down the block swapping into the clothes you’d shoved into your purse.
“What are you doing?” Steve asks quickly, giving him an eyeful of your bra in the rear-view mirror as you slip a drop-shoulder top over your head.
“Changing.” You say obviously, wriggling out of your pants, hefting up your denim skirt. “Eyes on the road Harrington.” You grin, throwing your uniform into the trunk, applying blusher as steadily as you can.
“So am I picking you up or what?” Steve queries as you climb over into the front seat, making a noise of complaint when your heels make contact with the precious leather.
“If you’ve not heard from me by midnight, call my dad and tell him I’m crashing at your place with Robin.” You say, lining your lips. 
“And he’ll buy that?”.
“He may not like it, but yeah he’ll buy it.” 
“I don’t know about this honey - shouldn’t I stick around? What if you two have a fight again?” Steve asks in concern.
“Steve, given what happened the last time you saw each other, I don’t think Eddie is going to react very well if you rock up with me.” You huff, teasing your hair with the spare comb he keeps in the glove box.
“Fair.” He relents, grabbing the comb back in affectionate irritation. “But I still don’t like it.”
_______________________________________________
The parking lot for The Hideout is surprisingly busy, and it’s only when you walk in you realize why. The place is packed with your classmates, a big sign hanging from the ceiling that says ‘Class of 1986!’, you notice the vast majority of the cheer squad milling around and the penny drops, you’ve inadvertently crashed Chrissy Cunningham’s party.
“Y/n!” You hear your name, Gareth weaving his way through the crowd towards you.
“Gareth, you didn’t tell me this was Chrissy’s party!” You hiss.
“Does it matter?” He asks cluelessly. “We're on in like 10 minutes, I’ll make sure Eddie finds you after, ok?” He reassures, giving your arm a squeeze.
You hover debating on waiting outside but figure you better remain inside for Eddie. You heave a deep sigh, moving to the bar perching on a stool, legs jiggling nervously, you’re caught up in your thoughts when a sweet voice next to you speaks.
“Two diet cokes please. Oh my god Y/n! You came! Hi!” Chrissy Cunningham is standing next to you, leaning on the bar looking like pure heaven in a pretty light peach dress.
“Hi Chrissy” You say awkwardly, allowing her to embrace you. 
“Isn’t this place great? I was going to host the party at my house but my dad knows the owner, and then Eddie Munson offered to do a gig with his band Corroded Coffin. I haven’t seen them play since middle school!” She’s grinning from ear to ear, but all you hear is white noise, Eddie spoke to Chrissy? 
“I wouldn’t have thought Eddie’s music was your thing.” You ask weakly, head spinning.
“Oh they’re mostly doing covers tonight, Eddie’s been meeting with me every evening to go through the playlist, inviting me to their practices and stuff.” She rambles happily, you can only nod, heart hammering against your ribs. Eddie and Chrissy, of course she was single now.
“You here with Gareth? Was he the cause of your boy trouble? Have you made up?” Chrissy asks in rapid fire, and you’re beginning to suspect that someone might have a hip flask around adding something extra to the sodas.
“Gareth?” You repeat blankly, feeling detached from your voice.
“I saw you talking to him earlier, he’s cute.” She grins, the sound of electric guitars being plugged in stops you from answering. “Oh they’re starting! Come to the front with me!” She shouts, hauling you both towards the stage, you manage to hang back being slightly absorbed by the crowd.
You feel like you’re in a semi-catatonic state as the band finishes their tune up, Eddie’s voice ringing out through the mic in a screech of feedback.
“Uh - thanks for coming guys, we’re Corroded Coffin. Chrissy, this one's for you, ‘86 baby.” He says, grinning down from the stage to where she’s standing, the crowd going wild as they start to play some suped up version of Blondie’s Call Me.
You think you might throw up, limbs tingling unpleasantly, as you stagger to the bathroom. There are a group of girls you sort of recognise, sitting on the edges of the sinks drinking from a large bottle of vodka, and smoking.
“Can I get some of that?” You ask breathlessly pointing at the vodka.  
“The more the merrier!” One of the girls laughs, clearly trashed.
You drink a third like it’s water, ignoring the burn as it slides down your throat, desperate to numb the overwhelming panic in your chest. 
“We’ve got rum too.” Another girl says, already passing you the bottle, you hate rum but anything will do at this point, wishing you had told Steve to stay.
“This is shit, we should have gone to Carver’s party then we wouldn’t have to hide in a fucking bathroom to get wasted.” A girl you think is called Linda whines, pushing her tits up and down experimentally in the mirror.
“And I told you I lost the fucking flier with the address.” The girl who passed you the rum, shouts impatiently.
“Oh, I think I have one.” You say with a small hiccup, fishing about in your purse for the neon green paper Chase had given you yesterday.
“YES!” Linda screeches happily, snagging it from your hands. 
“You coming?” Rum girl asks you, gathering up the alcohol and shoving it into her bag while the others file out in disarray.
You shouldn’t, you should call Steve, you should go home, but your feet move of their own accord following the group out in a slight daze. Evidently you’d been in the bathroom for longer than you thought, the band were currently taking a break, mingling on the floor with everyone else.
Chrissy’s bell-like laugh echoes across the room, cutting through you like a knife, you see her delicate hand resting on Eddie’s chest leaning into him as he laughs along with her. You feel like you’re drowning, breath catching painfully, lip trembling as you swallow the pain down. Gareth says something to Eddie and he suddenly catches your eye, moving to approach you but you’re already heading towards the front door with the drunk girls.
“Y/n wait!” He calls, and you bolt, banging through the double doors, clambering into a car with the girls who laugh and scream as you all peel away from the building.
Taglist: @avalon-wolf @lolalanaie @eddiemunsonsgf2 @eddieslildarling @bakugouswh0r3 @sidthedollface2 @blueberrylemontea-fanfic @winchester-angel @bimbobaggins69 @tuskjohnny @fckyeahlames @thecomfortgoth @alanamarie @miarosso @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @somespicystuff @eddiethesexy @unfocused81 @1paire2vans @take-everything-you-can @mynameismothra @kingaa101 @ms1oftheboys @lfaewrites @corrodedcoffincumslut @emxxblog @briasnow-blog @bexreadstoomuch @munsonology @mulletmcghee @tanyaherondale @offensiunculae @
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radishayuan · 2 years
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to be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love —pride & prejudice, jane austen
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claralouvette · 1 year
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Quirkless! Single Mother X Keigo Takami/ Hawks
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💝Proof reading Complete! (new phrases added!)
Synopsis💞
He was the Boss of an Agency. Hold on, lemme just reiterate that. He is your Boss and your his assistant.
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Info
💌Female Reader age: 24
💌Keigo Takami age: 25
Part 2 (complete) Masterlist
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🧡He was the Boss of an Agency. Hold on, lemme just reiterate that. He is your Boss and your his assistant. When you first met, he expected you to Fangirl , but you didn't. He felt your extraordinary determination to work at this agency. Of course, this is one of the top agencies where you could get the best salary, so who wouldn't want to work here.
  🧡 On your First day, papers filled your table, the phone rang the whole room, and the email pings were everywhere. Hawks was testing you. Whether you are up for the job or not, it's a natural routine. I mean, last week, you were reeking of determination to have the job, and now, you must have the will power be a worthy person for the position.
Beginning the day, you started your task filled with doubt and unsureness, mediocre at best, quirkless, and clumsy. He was ready to fire you at the end of the day. Lunch break came, and you were exhausted. "Welp, Im grabbing lunch; good work!" he said as he flew off the balcony, leaving you alone in his office.
  🧡 Lunch break, alone in the office, you sat down at your desk and pulled out your small, relatively simple bento box. Proceeding to eat it in silence while scrolling through your phone. "I can do this. I'm gonna make her proud and make my family happy". You said, motivating yourself while staring at a picture of you and your daughter. The lunch break nears its end, and your ready to face the inevitable. Sure, you started off awkwardly. You were surprised that this agency accepted you despite the many more applicable fitting applicants. It reminded you of some schools where the entrance exams were easy as pie, but good luck getting out of the school with a diploma. This agency totally has that vibe.
Hanks returns just in Time to start working again. To Hawks's disbelief, He thought you were a different person because of how well you manage things, full of confidence and professionality. That my folks just made him intrigue to you more.
  🧡 Days and months go by. You are the most stern person he met, so strict on schedules and meetings that he thoughts you are his Boss now. You were just doing your job. Right now, he is running late for an interview. You told him to meet you at the front of his agency. Furious, you took the elevator back up to his office. Upon reaching the door, you knocked. "Hawks, you are late for an interview " No reply. You knocked, no response again. That's it, you opened the door, and he is night there..... dancing? No more bopping his head and listening to music via headphones. Feeling the vibration from his wings, he immediately looked towards the door. Seeing you, he realized his mistake immediately removed his headphones, faintly letting out a familiar tune, "Your late for an interview was all you just said, he chuckled. "Got lost track of time, I guess," he awkwardly said.
🧡The music he was listening to was your own song covers. When you discover that he listens to your cover, you internally panic. "You listen to that?" you asked. "Oh yeah, do you know her too? -"You cut him off by saying, "Her voice is too cringe" " Then let me hear you try." he said, smirking. Thankfully, He doesn't know it is you who runs that channel.
🧡 Time has passed, and your relationship with him took a more friendly turn, although you are still strict towards him, especially on his schedule. Aww, c'mon dove, you know the traffic can't stop me. I can Fly us there!" he tried to convince you. "Are you serious? Have you forgotten that I am quirkless??" you reasoned, clearly angered that no matter how many reminders he still forgot this damn meeting. "Of course not, but I promise you I won't drop a beautiful person like you," and that's it... "I'm not taking the risk. I'll just take the service there, cya." sad hawks stood alone in his office, disappointed that his move didn't work on you. He sighed before taking off" Oh, dove, you don't have to be that tough to reject me' and took off.
  🧡 When he learned that you have a daughter. He was devastated. He thought his chance of courting you was over. "Your joking, right?" he asked, trying to hide his heartbreak. You laughed in return, "I'm not joking, hawks. I had her when I was 19. Say hi to him, sweety" you said as your daughter went and introduced herself. "Hello, mister Hawks. My name is Yua; it's nice to meet you!!" "Show him your special skill, sweet pea." Hawks got intrigued when you told the child to show him something. "Will he not get mad?" she asked. "No darling, in fact, he would be happier" When you said that, she nodded and began to focus. Then 2 water-like wings sprouted From her back and amazement struck hawks face.
  🧡Ever since you introduced your daughter to Hawks, he wouldn't stop bugging you to bring her ever." DOVE!! Please get her here!" he begged. "Hawks, I will bring her here After her school," you said, trying to calm down, massaging your nose bridge. He seemed pleased with the reply, "And do your paperwork, please" you plead, and he agreed and played your cover songs on his office speakers. It became his work playlist, and you got used to hearing your voice, but to be honest it's kind of distracting.
  🧡 Finally, you could brought your daughter to the agency again. The Hawks can finally quit bugging you about it. "Alright, kid! excited for your flying lesson?" "Absolutely, mister hawks!" she said excitedly. "I hope I can fly like you though I don't know if water would help me to Fly," she said, dejected. "Be optimistic, kid anything can happen if you believe in it. Let's get to the balcony before your mom over there gets angry at me," he said, making the child giggle. He played his work songs and started the lesson. "Alright, kid, First things." "It is one of Mom's songs!" she said enthusiastically, 'What? He thought, confused."Okay, I'm ready for the lesson now, mister Hawks," she said, switching her Focus back to Hawks. An hour passed, and with much determination, your daughter was able to fly. Hawks felt like a proud dad, For real.
 "Mom! I can fly!" "Now, my sweet pea Im so proud!"
Hawks, Following behind, ready to tease you with a new found knowledge.
"and I Didn't know you could sing song bird." he started. "how come you never told me, that it was you I was listening to, hmm?" he said nearing close to you, from personal to intimate space. You blushing and a child giggling. Your gonna lecture your child later.
  🧡 A year has passed, the both of you got closer, and hawks heart Basically yearns for you. He is passionate about loving you now that he knows about your past relationships. A Jerk who promised the world to you and then left when he learned you were pregnant. He wished he was there for you, when you were dealing with pregnancy alone.
To him you aren't just his assistant now, he sees you as someone he can rely on and, you also have warmed up to him too, trusting him with your problems. He loves what you both have, a good relationship, seeing each other as equals, and he wanted more, his instincts saying more.
He is determined to earn your trust and your heart "one day" he whispered, siting on his office desk alone staring at a selfie of him, you with your daughter smiling genuinely, and somewhere on his mind he imagined a family with you.
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twstfanblog · 1 month
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!*~Valentine's Times~*! pt 3
A/N: Here's the last half of the dorms! More world-building! Hope you enjoy it! The final part will be uploaded later on tonight, Happy Valentine's Day! Word Count: 7.9 (The Brick) Warnings: She/They Pronouns OC, Gets mildly spicy, swearing (Ortho gets ONE SWEAR) Pairings: Established poly (Yuu/Azul/Jamil/Malleus), Alluded Rook/Vil, Fake past relationship Rook/Yuu, Alluded Cater/Idia L (NRC Staff ft OCs). O (Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle). V (Here). E (Crack)
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V is very, very extraordinary...
~SCARABIA~
The desert dorm was hot. But compared to the still nippy weather of the campus, Yuu welcomed the hot sun. Walking into the dorm's lounge area, Yuu looked at what could only be called ‘Craft Heaven’ or ‘Neat-Freak Hell’.
Construction paper, hot glue, and glitter were everywhere. No surface was seemingly uncovered by either paper scraps or stray blobs of paint. They just barely avoid stepping into the path of splattered yellow paint, eyes glaring at the half-apologetic student.
Things had nearly escalated before a pair of arms wrapped around their waist, picking them up and spinning them around as a joyful voice rang out.
“Yuu! I didn't know you were coming over!” Kalim laughs, taking care to place his friend in a cleaner area after taking note of their pretty white boots, “If I had known you were coming I'd have your Valentine ready to give to you! I just finished it so it's still wet…”
Yuu smiles, “Aw! You made me a Valentine? Kalim, you know I'm a taken harlot~.”
He laughs, hands proudly on his hips, “And you know I'm not looking! But! You are one of my dearest friends. It'd be wrong to not give you something on the day of love!”
Sniffling, Yuu wipes an imaginary tear from their cheek, “Kalim, you are my shining star.” 
Once the two had calmed their respective vibes, Yuu gestured around the dorm, “So, is this like a side hustle Scarabia has or is there a holiday tradition I'm missing?”
Kalim makes a questioning noise, then looks around the dorm before shaking his head and laughing, “OH! Naw. Lilia was pouting the other day about how he doesn't get ‘adorable’ homemade Valentine's Day cards anymore. So I had planned on gifting one to him and Cater at the exchange tonight. But then I wanted to make one for Jamil, then I couldn't leave you out of course, and then I had to make one for Azul, Malleus. The list just kinda grew!”
He gestures around to the other Scarabia members, only now did Yuu realize some weren't actually Scarabia students, “Everyone else saw me making them and wanted to join. So, we're having a last-minute craft party!” They both wince at seeing a spray of paint and glitter go flying through the air, “Yeah…Jamil’s in the kitchen making lunch for everyone. I'm in charge of cleaning this up before we leave for the exchange.”
“Well, Kalim I'm gonna make that harder for you, while also giving you a little treat.”
“Oh!?...” Kalim squints his eyes, brain catching the first part of Yuu's statement, “Wait, make this harder how? I'm happy for the treat but I don't want to make this even harder to clean up!”
“Gonna ignore the concern in your voice and give you the treat first. It's chocolate!”
Yuu pulls out a bag tied closed with white and burgundy ribbons. Inside were multiple colored gems, each glittering in the light through the plastic. He takes the bag, eyeing the gems with a focused stare. Only when he brought the bag closer did he fully see the ‘gems’ were simply chocolates luster-dusted in bright colors. He laughs, pulling a chocolate out to hold in the light.
“Ah! Clarity is bad, but the cut is very pleasing…”
“You are not evaluating my chocolate right now.”
“The colors are also pretty! Good saturation, a very pure hue…” Kalim brings the sweet to his mouth, eyes widening when he bites down to discover they were filled, “Oh! Coconut cream! Forget the grading, these are perfect!”
Yuu folded their arms, a smile winning the fight they put up to frown, “Okay, so with the grade they were bad, huh? You know what? Here.” They reach into their bag, pulling out a purple velvet bag with golden drawstrings, “That's for you.”
Kalim looked at the bag, opening it and raising an eyebrow as he stuck his hand inside, “What'd you get me-...” he pulled out his completely gold-coated hand, staring at it before he realized what he had in his possession,  “Yuu, did you give me a bag of gold dust?”
“Ye.”
“...” Kalim giggles, lightly bouncing on his heels as his eyes searched around the dorm, “Midas! Miiiiiiiidas~!” With his target seemingly found, Kalim raced off into the crowd of people, bag of luster dust and chocolates in firm hand.
Yuu wipes their hands of imaginary dust, turning on their heel and heading toward the kitchen. A part of them almost felt bad, the area near the kitchen was completely empty. Jamil must have been in Heaven, cooking in blissful solitude…
Jamil jumps hearing the doors of the kitchen swing open and slam against the wall, shoulders moving up to his ears only to feel every ounce of strength to tense leave his body at his date-mate's voice.
“Hi, Jamil~.”
They both stand in silence, Jamil still facing the stove before he sighed. Looking at them from the corner of his eye he mumbled out, untrusting that they appeared for a simple visit, “Hello.”
“Wow, Jamil. I can feel the love we share for one another pouring out of your fucking pores from here.”
Jamil sighs again, rolling his eyes so hard his head followed the movement, “Alright, let me try again…” He turns to Yuu fully, fluttering his eyelashes as he copied their earlier tone, “Hi, Yuu~.” he drops the flirty tone, raising an eyebrow, “Was that better?”
Yuu smiles, wrapping their arms around Jamil’s neck as they press against him, “Very.” A kiss, short and sweet as they let Jamil gently nudge them away from the stove.
Jamil subtly licked his lips, shoving Yuu lightly to one of the stools at the massive island, “Don't stand too close. You're in light colors and it'd do no good to get oil on yourself.” He goes back to tending the dish, flipping the meat by simply flicking his wrist, “If you came for lunch, it'll be at max an hour to wait.”
“What if I came to give you Valentine’s Day gifts instead?”
The look Jamil threw over his shoulder was disrespectful to the point Yuu hoped their future children would call Jamil out on it. They gasped, offended and miming they closed a coat around their body as they put on a thick accent, “Why I never! I came in here, alone, without a care in the world to give my loving boyfriend some chocolate I slaved over! And this is the thanks I get? Suspected of crimes that I would totally commit, but didn't?
“...” Jamil turned off the burner, grabbing a dishrag and cleaning off his hands in silence. He walks toward Yuu, hands quickly grabbing their hips when they try to step away from him. With a tired smile, he simply tilted his head to the side, “I love you. Have I ever told you that?”
“Don't sound so defeated when you say it. God, you make it sound like I wore you down!” They could barely contain their laughter, arms wrapping around his waist in a hug.
“That's because you did, you beat every ounce of fight out of me. Now, what did you bring me?”
Yuu had a hybrid of a pout and a smile on their face. Looking at Jamil’s tired expression before pulling out his bag of sweets, “I brought you chocolates. And they’re spicy, because I thought you would like that.”
Jamil holds the bag in his hand eyeing it passively. Tied off with burgundy and black ribbons, the chocolates inside were dark and shaped like gems. The edges of the chocolates painted with gold luster dust, burgundy and gold chocolate pearls scattered within the bag. The promised flavorings of dark chocolate and the Sriracha paste he had helped them make was a welcomed retreat he looked forward to.
He smiles, placing the chocolates on the counter and pulling Yuu fully into his embrace, “Thank you. Now sit down and do nothing.”
“I have another gift!”
The sigh Jamil let out was loud, giving his smiling date-mate a playful glare, “Yuu. My love. My hayati…I will not tolerate your bullshit today. If you cause trouble when my plate's full as it is, I will spank you.”
“Don't threaten me with a good time. But, no. You'll like this present, I swear.” They reach into their tote, pulling out what looked like a thick checkbook and holding it out to Jamil.
He raises an eyebrow, taking the booklet in hand and reading the dull red cover. “Jamil’s Cheat Checks” was on the front in gold script, flipping it open showed what seemed to be legitimate checks. The illusion was broken as the amount was pre-written as ‘Shut up and do as I say.’ He chuckles, checking each ticket to confirm they all said the same thing, “What is this?”
“Checks that when handed to me will make me stop all manner of shenanigans, hijinks, and/or funny hahas.”
“Wow. Even your funny hahas? The power you've bestowed upon me.” Jamil tucks the checkbook into the waist of his apron and presses another kiss to Yuu's lips, nodding his head toward the island before turning back to the stove, “Now sit. Food will be done in about 45 minutes and you can help me bring it out.”
“Yeah, yeah. I will do as asked and not spread my joyous presence to the masses.” Yuu sat on the other side of the island, resting their cheek on their hand as they smiled dreamily at Jamil, “I'll just sit here and daydream~.”
Jamil raises an eyebrow but goes back to prepping the food. But, the silence was short-lived, Yuu lasting at most a minute before they started to mimic the sound of a phone ringing. Jamil paid them no mind, focusing on getting another dish prepared for its final roast in one of the dorm's many ovens. He does look from the corner of his eyes as Yuu started to speak out loud,  just to see if they actually were on the phone.
Yuu's phone screen was black. Held in a way that it looked like they were talking, but made it easy to see the blank screen, “Yeah? No, I'm with Jamil. Yeah…I know.” They smiled at him, clearly catching him glancing at them, “He's so cute right?”
His eyes quickly turned back to the pan, a blush slowly growing worse and worse the longer Yuu ‘talked on the phone’
“I know right? Like, dude, how are you so handsome, talented, and intelligent? Can you be any more perfect?” Yuu internally cooed, watching Jamil’s shoulders raise higher and higher as the tips of his ears darkened with his blush.
“I can not wait to male wife him the fuck up.” The sound of Jamil’s accessories jingling as his head snapped around to glare at them was almost enough to make Yuu break, but they kept going. 
Jamil knew they were doing this because he was focused on cooking. He could see their phone, they weren't even holding it right. Yuu was simply waxing poetic behind his back because there was a whole island between them. His mind drifts to the tickets tucked against his hips and a part of him huffed in mild annoyance. They would make him use his present the second they gifted it to him.
Yuu watches Jamil grow more and more fidgety, listing off all the things they ‘had planned’ for when they were bound in holy matrimony. Romantic dates, quiet nights at home in each other's embrace, moments of passion. It was hard keeping the laugh out of their voice watching Jamil’s steadily quickening movements to place the crafted dish into the oven.
“Yeah. I just can't wait to be barefoot and pregnant-” they hear the hasty sound of an oven door slamming shut and ripping paper, “Hold on. I think Jamil wants something.” They place their phone down, turning to smile at Jamil, “Yeah, babes?”
Jamil held out one of the checks, glaring across the island with his cheeks flared, “You say that shit behind closed bedroom doors, not in the kitchen where anyone can hear it!”
Yuu sat patiently, blinking once before they pointed to the ticket, “You know you have to hand that to me right?”
His eyes narrow, moving to walk around the island only to stop as he watches Yuu mirror his movements. Every step he took toward them, they would move away. Jamil glared over the counter, the two of them now on opposite sides from where they started, “Really?” He couldn't fight the smirk on his face.
“Yeah, you really have to hand me the ticket, Jamil.” Yuu wiggled their eyebrows, a challenge ringing clear that even with the tickets they would never go down without a struggle.
Jamil clicks his tongue, untying his apron and slapping it on the counter. They stood still, eyes locked in a stalemate before he quickly faked left and then darted to the right of the island.
Yuu barely kept themselves from falling as they fled, the distance between them kept steady as Yuu yelled out, “Jamil! You're in sandals, I'm in heels! This isn't good for either of our ankles!”
“Take the damn ticket!”
“You have to hand it to me!”
They made a few complete circles around the island before Jamil threw caution and ‘playing fair’ to the sands. He braced his hands onto the counter, jumping and quickly scrambling across the island and managing to grip a screaming Yuu by the back of their overalls. They both fall to the ground, the sounds of Yuu's panicked scream laughter bouncing off the walls. The sound of a heavy ‘SMACK’ turning their laughter soon into breathless moans and the sounds of heavy kissing.
The door clicks open. Kalim walked in, a handprint of gold smeared across his face and more dust coating his hair and clothing, “Hey, Yuu. Is this stuff edible? I think I-Ah! AAAAH!” He quickly turned back to the door, trying to flee after catching a glimpse of Yuu and Jamil lip locked and fully grinding against each other on the floor, “STOP DOING THIS IN THE KITCHEN!”
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~POMEFIORE~
Vil looked at the mess before him, glaring with his eyeliner brush hanging almost limp in his hand. Yuu stood in his doorway, sheepishly tugging at their shirt edge to hide the various bite marks along their collar. He could tell their hair was curled, but the state it was in now left it nothing more than a fizzy manhandled mess. By the Seven, their makeup. Smeared and blotchy, nothing more than an utter sabotage of the beauty community. 
Sighing, Vil sat down his eyeliner brush. Motioning them into the room as he opened his drawer to gather makeup closer to Yuu’s skin tone, “You were either mauled or you went to one of your lovers before walking in here looking so unkempt. Which one was it?”
“Jamil…” Yuu drags the ottoman closer to his vanity, sitting down and placing their tote on the ground, “And all I can say is that he actually looks more fucked up than I do.”
The third year reaches out to hold a frizzled tassel of Yuu's hair with two of his fingers, face pinched, “I highly doubt that…though I will commend him for still leaving bites and hickeys with that choker you have on.”
“Can you fix it?”
“I shouldn’t, in the hope that this will teach you a lesson in restraint,” He grounds out, already pulling Yuu’s hair out of its half ponytail gently and taking a brush to it, “But, I’d feel worse letting you walk around like this. I have very little authority over you as your club leader but I expect all under my care to look their best at all times.”
Yuu smiles, letting Vil do his favorite activity of priming others, “Thank you, big brother.” They will agree the laugh they let out was ‘gremlin’ adjacent, closing their eyes on Vil’s command as he poured his mineral water onto a towel.
Vil grumbles but takes care to remove the smeared pigment from Yuu’s face, “Honestly. I don’t know what’s worse. You spreading rumors that we’re family or the fact my own father sent you a Valentine’s basket along with mine…”
“One of those is mine!?” Yuu looks away from Vil, eyes glittering to the two large red and pink-toned baskets sitting on Vil’s bed, “Aw~! That’s nice.”
Vil quickly moved Yuu’s face back to him, frowning at the fact he nearly poked the younger student in the eye when they moved. “Stop moving…” His glare intensifies, staring at reddish spots dotted along their cheeks, “Are you breaking out? Why are you breaking out? Honestly, I make you a personal blend of skincare and you don’t even use it.”
 Yuu waves his words off, rolling their eyes, “I’ve been stressed! I spent the last few weeks trying to perfect chocolate molds and fruit fillings. Also, pretty sure standing over a pot of boiling sugar wasn’t good for my skin…”
Vil snaps his fingers, pointing upward, “Look up.” He ignores Yuu groaning, applying a few drops of his handmade blemish eraser serum, “Honestly, why are you so stressed about it? I understand you have three lovers but that shouldn’t be too much for you to handle.”
“Oh. Naw, I made chocolate for all my favs, not just them.” They rubbed the serum into their cheeks, humming lightly at the scent of lavender.
“...” When Yuu doesn’t say anything more, he frowns. Turning to his gathered makeup he mumbles while applying their foundation, “Well, I see how it is…”
“I don’t wanna give you your chocolates now. You’re way more of a bitch to me when it’s just the two of us.”
“Oh, so you did make me chocolate? Color me surprised, I would think you’d leave me out from ‘sibling spite’...”
Yuu groans, reaching into their tote but not pulling the bag out, “You can’t be mean to me about these, okay? I worked really hard on them.”
Vil rolls his eyes, turning his full attention to them with a raised brow, “Fine. If they’re horrible I will simply remain silent.”
“...” Yuu pulls out a bag tied off with purple and gold ribbons, the bow multiple loops and grand. The chocolates inside were dark chocolate and shaped like crowns, half of them luster-dusted with gold and purple chocolate pearls scattered inside, “I filled them with raspberry. Like, the saddest raspberry filling. I didn’t add sugar past what was needed to help keep it edible after thickening it.”
Vil takes the bag, eyeing it silently before he places it on a free shelf of his vanity. He gives a brief yet fond look to the chocolates before making sure their foundation was properly blended, “They look very nice. Where did you learn to tie a knot that intricate?”
Yuu breathed a sigh of relief, “Tulip did the bows, mine weren’t good enough it seems…”  They already knew getting Vil chocolates would be a gamble. The star was hyper-aware of nearly every calorie he took in. They had honestly entertained the idea of getting him a celery bouquet instead, “I’m glad you like them though.”
“Ah…Tulip…” Vil did his best to not pull a face at the mention of the over zealous fairy. “The chocolates are cute. I’ll try them later tonight and give my full review.” He smiles, holding up two eye shadow palettes. One was centered around reds and darker tones, the other had more pink options and various glitters, “Now pick your eyeshadow.”
“Oo~! I want a glittery smokey eye.”
Vil worked fast, redoing Yuu’s makeup faster than they had done it themselves. Taking the time to paint small hearts along their cheeks, over where their tiny red spots would be. Saving their eyeliner for last, he hums at his project and gestures for them to look into the mirror, “There we go. Two fat little wings, just as you like.”
Yuu lets out an ‘Ooo’, fluttering their eyelashes and winking just to watch the glitter on their lids, “I love it! And don’t hate on my ‘fat wing’ liner style. I say nothing about you staining your skin with the darkest eyeshadow every day.”
“Get out of my room.”
“No, give me my gift basket.”
Vil turns back to the mirror, eyeliner brush back in hand as he applies his own wings to a ‘proper’ length, “No, it’s mine now since you want to be rude to me.”
Yuu frowns, crossing their arms and intentionally making their voice whiney, “But you said dad got it for meeeeeee.”
“We aren’t siblings-”
The door bursts open, making both of them jump at the loud cry of “BONJOUR~!”
“Hi, Rook~!”
“Mon vieille amor~!” The Florian quickly walks into the room, dropping to one knee in front of Yuu and presenting them with a small bouquet of roses, “For the brightest flame of my past! Roses as bloomed as your wedding bouquet, pink as the twilight from the night sky of our first dance.”
Yuu gasps, taking the gathering of pink flowers into their arms, “Oh, Rook! Just like our 20th anniversary~! I’m so glad you remembered!” they reach into their tote bag, pulling out a mason jar filled with pink and gold chocolate pearls. The bag was tied off with purple and black ribbons, plastic keeping the chocolate sculpted roses safe, “Chocolate roses, for the man who taught me how to love.”
Rook takes the jar gently, smiling as he opens it immediately. He takes a petal from one of the roses, placing it in his mouth, “They love me…” He takes another petal into his mouth, “They love me not~ Beauté! 1000 points for this gift of love, mon vieille amor!” with the jar in one hand, he wrapped the other around Yuu’s waist to pull them closer to place them in a faux dip. He makes loud, borderline obnoxious kissing sounds as he mimes pecking along a giggling Yuu’s face.
Vil glared at them, a jagged line of black from the corner of his eye and down his cheek. He turns back to the mirror, pouring more mineral water onto a towel, “Both of you get out of my room…”
“Vil, stop being so jealous. Me and Rook are so in the past, but we were married for 40 years. It’d feel weird to not get each other something for Valentine’s Day.”
“You two. Never dated…”
Rook stood, placing Yuu up right beside him with a hand over his heart, “Oh, mon roi. My and Yuu’s love was true and deep. 40 years of affection, a son, and a lifelong companionship to stand the test of time.”
“You’re both under 20, your ‘son’ is a bird, and you didn’t meet until this year. The joke is old.”
Yuu clicks their tongue, shaking their head before resting it on Rook’s chest, “You just don’t get it, Vil…”
“Oh, no. I get it. My boyfriend and my little sister are both infected with the same brain-eating virus-”
“HA!” Yuu pulls away from Rook, pointing at Vil’s frowning face, “You called me your sister! Sibling bond, you BITCH!”
“I WILL-”
“Why is everybody yellin’ in here?” Epel stood in the open doorway, looking at the scene in front of him. He raises an eyebrow at Vil’s appearance, the third-year with one side of his face completely bare, “You…you doing something new and stupid with your face?”
Vil scowls, “Epel, I will make you sit at my and Rook’s table the whole party.”
Epel looks to the side, beads of sweat forming on his temple as he internally panics, “Never mind. I love it.” He turns and waves, eyes pleading for Yuu to help take Vil’s glare off of him, “Hey, Yuu! What are you doing here? Let’s talk about it!”
“Actually, I’m leaving. But here you go!” They reach into their tote, pulling out a bag tied closed with purple and red ribbons. 
Throwing it to Epel, the other first-year had to rush forward to keep it from falling to the ground. He holds the bag to his face, tilting his head at the red luster-dusted and milk chocolates in the shape of apples. Green beads of chocolate scattered in the bag, “Oh! You even made them apple-shaped. Thanks, Yuu.”
“Thank you for the apple cider. I used it to make the caramel I filled your chocolates with.”
Epels eyes widened, quickly opening the bag to grab a chocolate to try, “Hot damn! That sounds fuckin’ sweet-”
Vil glares at Epel through the mirror, finally painting his second wing properly, “Epel…”
“Thank you, I’m very excited to try it…”
Yuu snickers, “Did you forget he was in the room? Anyway. Pomefiore boys, thank you for hosting me, but I still got a few stops to make before I gotta head back to Ramshackle and get ready for the party.”
“...” Vil sighs, pointing to the gift baskets on his bed, “The red one is yours. You can take one thing from it.”
The squeal Yuu lets out is giddy, bordering on ear-splitting. They rushed toward the bag and made sure to open it as carefully as possible. Opening the basket to see a plethora of nail polishes and beauty products, “Aw! Mr. Shoenhiet really doesn’t do anything in half does he?” Yuu pulls out a dark red lip gloss, opening it to apply to their lips.
Vil smirks, seeing Yuu had picked the lipgloss he had personally advised his father to get for them when the man had asked what Yuu would like in their basket, “Of course he doesn’t. He’s my father after all.”
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~IGNIHYDE~
Ignihyde didn't even bother decorating, nothing past the holographic screens showing a loop of hearts. Even then, they were the basic dorm blue, nothing even red. Though Yuu did see the tables were adorned by fresh flowers and pomegranates. They looked around the empty lounge, walking closer to a table to pick a fruit for themselves. Only to jump at seeing multiple bright dots appear on their hand and a disembodied voice ring out.
“Prefect Yuu, do not take the fruit. I repeat. Do not take the fruit.”
“Ortho, what the fuck my guy?” They pull their hand away, both hands placed beside their head as they looked around the room in panic.
Ortho appeared from a hallway, at least looking mildly sheepish as he floated closer, “Sorry! I forget at times you're not from here and don't know traditions.”
“It's tradition to try to shoot a bitch getting some fruit?”
“...” Ortho looks to the side, “Well…the shooting is more so my choice. But still! Taking the fruit is bad!”
Yuu sighed, throwing their head back but waving a hand as if to say ‘Go on’.
“The fruit and flowers are offerings. Hades was one of the longer lived Great Seven, so there's a number of stories about him. One of which was about his wife.”
“Ah. Persephone right?”
“Yes!” Ortho closes his eyes to show he was smiling, “Hades loved his wife dearly even though they were separated multiple times in their marriage. The offerings started out in the warmer months when Persephone and Hades were separated. The flowers to keep Hades in good spirits and the pomegranates to remind Persephone of her husband. But once the Queen's Marriage Anniversary was adapted outside of the Queendom of Roses, it also became tradition to offer both! As a way of gifting the lovers on this day of love and appreciation.”
“Aw…that's actually really cute…”
“I agree.” Ortho narrows his eyes, wagging his finger at Yuu in mock scolding, “So no taking any fruit or flowers! It's very rude to steal from a God.”
Yuu giggles, nodding their head, “Noted. Also…” They take a step forward, wrapping their arms around Ortho's body and pressing a kiss right below his eye before pulling away, “Happy Valentine's Day!”
Ortho stood still for a moment before he rocketed back into Yuu's arms, nearly lifting them off their feet from the force of his hug, “Happy Valentine's Day, Prefect Yuu! Thank you for the kiss! I've now collected three kisses!”
“Three?”
“Yes! Nii-San, Cater Diamond, and now Prefect Yuu! I feel very loved!”
“Aw. Well you're gonna feel a lot more love, baby boy.” Yuu reaches into their tote bag, pulling out a heart printed wrapped gift tied with white and blue ribbons, “A gift for you. Since you can't eat…”
Ortho's eyes were so bright Yuu was afraid they'd burn a hole through the box. The android took the package with care, “Thank you so much! May I open it now?”
“Go ahead!”
With almost surgical precision, Ortho unwrapped the gift and gently placed the folded paper and ribbons to the side. His eyes scan the box; a children's ‘make your own candy’ science kit. He flips the box over, reading the list of ingredients included in the kit. Once he was done, he looked into Yuu's eyes, “Prefect Yuu, may I swear?”
Yuu chokes on their laugh, but smiles and nods, “Yeah…yeah let it rip, buddy…”
“Prefect Yuu, this kit is shit.”
“I know…I know…” Yuu laughs at the bewildered look Ortho gives them, his eyes going from reading over the kit to squinting at them, “Look. I got it because while the candy is…barely edible, the kits are fun! You've got access to actual chemicals and stuff that you could use to make them taste better anyway.”
Ortho looks at the kit, calculating the few things he'd need to gather to make the potential candies in a greater quality, “That's true.”
“Plus! You can make fun gummies for Idia to try and like…slip a multivitamin or something in them.”
“I love it, thank you so much.” Ortho hugs the box to his chest, already coming up with numerous candies his brother would like. He perks up, eyes glittering when he realized Yuu hadn’t left, “Do you…Did you bring chocolates for Nii-San?”
Yuu nodded, patting their tote, “I did.”
The halls passed by in a blur, Ortho had picked Yuu up and flown as fast as he safely could to the housewarden’s door. Yuu had barely realized where they were before Ortho was knocking on the door at a rapid pace, “Nii-san, may we come in!?”
A quiet voice calls out from inside the room, “We…?”
Yuu smiles, calling out so that Idia knew who was with Ortho, “Are you decent?”
The voice calls out again, louder and with an edge of panic, “YOU CAN’T COME IN!”
Yuu nods at Ortho, “I think he’s decent.” 
They reach and swing the door open, smiling at seeing Cater look up from Idia’s bed and remove one of his earphones, “Sup?”
“No…Ortho why do you do this to me…?” Idia curled into his gaming chair, pulling his hood over his head as though if he could hide from Yuu’s sight they would have forgotten he was even there, “It was a good day…I got a free day from classes…Cater brought me candy…I didn’t see that fucking thing…”
“This ‘fucking thing’ has ears and the power to beat your ass.” Yuu smiles, reaching into their tote, “But I’m gonna let you get back to your day and just give you your chocolates. Catch!” They threw the bag, purposefully making it land against Idia’s keyboard.
Idia looks at the baggie, bright blue and black ribbons tying it closed with milk and white chocolate skulls inside with multi-colored gummies that looked like the buttons of a game controller. He brings the bag closer, eyes roaming to see if he saw anything truly hazardous in the bag. Like…a carrot…or broken glass…or a scorpion. But seeing nothing, he brought the bag closer to his chest and looked over at Yuu.
“I don’t know if this item drop showing our friendship…makes me fear you less or more…”
“Pick whichever one makes you feel safest.”
“...” Idia opens the bag, digging through the bag for one of the bright blue buttons, “It makes me fear you more.”
“That was the right answer. Ok! I gotta GO! Love you guys, see you at the party. Bye~...” Their ‘bye’ was heard as they ran down the hall, only ending at the sound of the dorms front doors slamming shut.
Idia turned to Ortho, frowning mildly at his beaming brother, “Why do you keep letting her into my room…?”
“Well, Nii-san. You refuse to leave your room. So I have to bring people to your room.”
Cater speaks up from the bed, placing his ear phones back as he nodded, “You gotta get that enrichment babe…”
“...” Idia turned to his computer, typing into the search bar, ‘How to tell if you are being bullied’.
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~DIASOMNIA~
“I'm sorry, run that by me one more time?”
The diasomnia student sneered down his nose at them, sword held out to clash with the other student guarding the rope bridge to the dorm, “You heard me you harlot. You are no longer welcome in the grand Noble dorm of Diasomnia. Take your swill and be off!”
“...” Yuu nods their head, raising their eyebrows and pursing their lips, “Okay.” They turn on their heel walking away from the stunned students.
As Yuu was a good distance away yet still in the dorm, the more spiteful student smiled at his fellow guard, “S-see!? I told you. There was never a need to fear that wench, she only got away with everything she did because Lord Malleus favored her. Now that he doesn’t, she’s powerless!”
He continued on, boasting about how their dorm leader had finally seen that a magicless human wasn’t worthy of his affections. But during his speech, the silent guard kept his eyes on Yuu. The Ramshackle prefect didn't even walk toward the mirror when they left, only a few paces off to the side of the path. He watched silently as they knelt down, pulling festive bags from their massive tote and even a bouquet of flowers.
Then he felt a shiver go down his spine as he watched them fill the now empty tote with rocks.
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Silver looks up hearing the doors open, blinking in mild confusion at who walked through them, “Yuu?”
Yuu was smiling, pulling a sizable rock out of their tote bag and dropping it outside the door, “Hey Silver! Um. If you think you see two unconscious bodies over by the bridge, no you don't.”
“What?”
“Happy Valentine's day!” Yuu was quick to pull out a plastic bag tied close with silver and bright green ribbons.
He takes it slowly, eyeing the dark chocolate shapes of swords and Z's with green and light purple chocolate pearls scattered in the bag. Opening it, he was greeted with the strong scent of espresso, “Oh. Coffee flavored?”
“Espresso cream filled. Thought you could put them in your coffee for an extra boost!” They look around the dorm lounge, eyes roaming, “While I adore you Silver, where is Malleus?”
Silver remained silent, putting a small sword into his mouth and chewing, “...It's good…”
“...Okay. You enjoy your chocolate, I'm gonna go hunt my boyfriend down.”
A nod was all Silver gave, stepping to the side to show he wasn't going to stop them, “Bye, Yuu.”
The dorm was filled with distrusting eyes, more so than normally. Yuu didn't bother asking any of them where Malleus was since they probably would have the same response as the guards. And sadly they don't have any more rocks in their bag. They sigh in a hallway, hands on their hips and looking around the room one last time.
“Beastie!”
Yuu felt a tap on their left shoulder, turning to the right as they knew Lilia's tricks. But, instead of seeing Lilia they see open air. They sigh, turning back around only to jump back as Lilia's face suddenly dropped into view, “AH! FUCK LILIA!” They braced themselves against the wall, catching their breath as Lilia giggled behind them, “Stop doing that…”
Lilia floats closer, smiling as he pats Yuu’s head, “Stop having such adorable reactions. What brings you to Diasomnia, dearie?”
“I’m passing out chocolates to my favorites and looking for Malleus.”
Lilia's eyes widen, humming loudly as he looks to the side, “Well, I can accept the chocolate and give you Malleus's location. But, you'll have to deal with him and Sebek alone…”
“Oh, Sebek is never an issue for me. While I have you, can you tell me what the fuck is wrong with Malleus?”
“...” Lilia smiles, tilting his head so far it made his whole body start to slowly spin in the air, “You said you brought chocolate?”
Yuu groans, but still reaches into their tote to pull out a baggie tied off with bright green and pink ribbons. Dark chocolate in the shape of bats and green chocolate pearls filling the bag.
Lilia squeals out in delight, taking the bag and opening it, “Oh, Beastie! I didn't think you'd actually bring little old me chocolate.” He coos lightly at the bat between his fingers, biting into it and nearly choking, “...Did you fill this with tomato paste?”
“More so a tomato jam…but basically…” they raise an eyebrow, “Are you going to tell me what's going on with Malleus?”
“Hmmm…” Lilia grabbed another chocolate, eating it whole and chewing, “Such an interesting flavor combination…I quite like it!”
“Okay, fuck you guys. But seriously. I've been so busy running around all day and I only, like…noticed that Malleus hasn't talked to me all day? Is he sick?”
“Hmmm. These chocolates are so good!”
Yuu frowns, reaching into their tote and pulling out another bag, “Just because I'm annoyed. Here.” They shove the bag into Lilia's chest, walking away as the older fae looks in confusion.
When he realizes what's in the bag, he frowns. Pastel colored shapes of a bat, a sword, a crocodile, and a dragon all cut out from marshmallow. He sticks his tongue out and turns around to yell after Yuu, “These are cute but you know I dislike marshmallows!”
Looking over their shoulder, Yuu yells back, “That's not my problem!” They continued walking, ignoring Lilia muttering under his breath if he'd be able to regift the marshmallows to Silver.
As expected, Sebek stood at attention in front of Malleus's door. They make eye contact, Sebek's eyes narrowing instantly upon seeing them.
“Yuu.”
“Sebek.” Yuu folded their arms, raising an eyebrow at the half-fae, “So…move.”
Sebek sniffs, turning his head to look away from them, “I don't take orders from you.”
“I know you don't. But, real quick, how are your kidneys doing? They doing ok?”
“If you're trying to start a fight-”
“I would bust your kidneys a second time. But, no, I'm not here for that. Lilia told me to come find you.”
“...” Sebek tilted his head, a sneer lifting one side of his lip, “Do you truly think I'm that stupid?”
“I do think you're dumb, but Lilia seriously asked me to come find you. He needs help finding his phone.”
Sebek simply sniffed again, turning his nose up at them. He even widened his stance and remained unmoved in front of Malleus's door.
“...” Yuu shrugs, turning around and walking away with a wave over their shoulder, “Fine. I'll just make sure Lilia knows you don't care about his problems.” They counted in their head, smirking when they heard Sebek groan.
“Fine! But, you’re coming with me-” The moment Sebek had walked beside Yuu, he choked, feeling them yank the back of his collar harshly. The kick to the back of his knee sent him down, aheap on the floor and then being blinded by being hit in the face with a plastic bag.
He only looked at the bag for a few moments, tied off with green and yellow ribbons. Milk chocolate lightning bolts, what looked to be gummy green crocodiles, and green chocolate pearls. That ingrate had assaulted him with festive chocolates. He tried to roll to his feet quickly, glaring up at the human running back down the hall toward Malleus’s room, “YUU!”
“Caught you lackin’!” Yuu had already reached Malleus’s door, smiling and holding up their fingers to form a heart, “Love you, bitch~.” They open the door, managing to slam and lock it just before Sebek had reached them. Smiling with a wicked glee seeing the door shake from the force of Sebek slamming against it.
The room was dim, but it normally was. Having night vision apparently made the goth aesthetic too easy to fall into. Lucky for Yuu, Malleus was always easy to find. The pair of glowing eyes in the corner at his desk giving away his location. 
“Hi Malleus. I haven't heard from you today, I was getting worried. You feeling okay?”
Strangely, Malleus doesn't respond. His only reply was to deepen his frown, eyes looking to the side in dismissal.
“...” Yuu blinked, placing their hands on their hips as they looked around the room in confusion, “Why…are you pouting? What happened?”
“...” Malleus sniffs, frown turning into a mild scowl as he fully turns his body away from them. Though Yuu was able to tell he was still watching them from the mirror with his eyes.
“...Are you ignoring me!?” Yuu couldn't stop the half-offended guffaw they let out that nearly caused them to choke. Malleus had responded by flipping a tassel of his hair over his shoulder. “The fuck did I do!?”
Was he pouting because they wouldn't let him come to Ramshackle the past week? Or maybe there was a certain fae etiquette that they hadn't done and now he was upset by it. They walked up to the pouting mage, trying to catch his eyes though he kept turning away from them. Soon they had straddled him in the chair, forcing eye contact.
“Ok. Talk to me. I can't make it up to you if I don't know what I did babes…”
He scoffs, “Oh, it's so trivial that you've forgotten what you did? Timothy surely hasn't…”
Yuu snorts, looking away when Malleus snaps his head to glare at them. It takes them a good few moments to compose themselves, but when they do they place their hands on Malleus’s cheeks. Squishing the cool flesh to make his pout even cuter, “You’re jealous…of Timothy?”
“You kissed him…” Malleus’s glare softened, turning his expression more into a kicked puppy than the annoyed dragon he was, “How could you bestow a kiss to him before me? It’s a grave error at worst and a slight at best…”
“...” Yuu’s hands left Malleus’s cheeks, not saying anything to his expression becoming even sadder. Instead they looked around their tote, pulling out a single item and placing it in Malleus’s hand.
Malleus looks into his palm, a drop wrapped in shiny aluminum with a paper tail sticking out of the top. He blinks, looking at Yuu in confusion as they leaned against his shoulder with a mischievous smile, “What is this?”
“A kiss.” Yuu’s smile widens as Malleus seemed to realize his mistake, turning away with a small blush rising to his cheeks. But they simply kissed along his neck, a hand moving up to scratch at the small patch of scales just behind his ear, “I gave each of the fairies a kiss as payment for helping me make chocolate for all my loved ones.”
“...I see…” The dragon would only be flustered for so long. He turned back to Yuu, a hand under their chin to hold them still as he gently kissed their lips. Pulling away, there was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he smiled, “Well, do you have an offering of love for me?”
Yuu smiled back, just as mischievous. They lean back, holding up the final bag of chocolate in their possession. Tied off with green and black ribbons, filled with dark chocolate shapes of ferocious faces and bright green chocolate pearls. They smile, gesturing to the bag with an excited look, “Open and try one!”
Malleus chuckles but does as asked. He pulls a single chocolate from the bag and looks at it with a keen eye. The shape confused him at first, not knowing why they’d make his chocolates in such a form until he realized he had seen it before. The smile on his face was what Lilia had once described as ‘Lovestruck’. Yuu had taken the time and effort to make his chocolates in the shape of gargoyle faces. Placing it in his mouth, he only bit down for a moment before a shock went through his body at the flash of cold.
The laugh Yuu let was high and almost mocking if he wasn’t so familiar with it, “I’m guessing it worked then?”
“Did you…how did you fill these with ice cream?” He took another chocolate from the bag happily eating it and purring at the feeling of chilled and unmelted ice cream mixing with the bitter chocolate.
“The fairies helped me. The frost fairies were super excited to make an ice cream that wouldn’t melt in the chocolate.”
“Well, I’m glad you succeeded in your culinary endeavors.” Malleus smiles, placing the chocolate on his desk to wrap his arms around them, placing his chin on their shoulder.
Yuu hums, snuggling into Malleus's warming body with a teasing smirk, “And that I didn’t kiss Timmy?”
“Don’t refer to him by a nickname…”
They snicker, knowing Malleus had regained his pouting expression, “Anyway.” Yuu leans back, squishing his cheeks in their hands again and smiling lovingly, “You wanna be my date tonight for the party?”
Malleus’s eyes glitter at the invite, only to dim a bit as he thought, “Would that be…fair to the others? We all are your lovers, isn’t it unfair to have only one of us as your date?”
“Jamil’s gift to Azul is to formally invite him as his date for tonight.” Yuu wished she would have been there to watch Azul try to keep his cool at Jamil’s invitation, “It's just an unspoken truth that you guys are all my dates anyway…”
“Ah, an unspoken truth, you say?” Malleus reaches up, holding Yuu's hands in his own before kissing their knuckles gently, “I shall accept your invitation, both spoken and unspoken.”
Yuu giggles, pulling their hands away to weave them through Malleus’s hair. Pressed against him as they lightly scratched at the base of his horns, feeling the purr he let out, “You charmer…Oh!” They could barely pull away from Malleus's embrace, ignoring the whiney growl that the dragon let out. 
They reach into the tote, pulling out a single slip of paper. Handing it to the confused dragon, they placed their head on his shoulder as he read it over. 
When he was done, Malleus's smile widens. He carefully tucks the ticket into his desk drawer, his free hand moving to trace along their collar bone, “May I leave a mark as well?”
“Not even gonna ask me about the ticket?” Yuu raises an eyebrow, eyeing the closed drawer with a mildly concerned eye. The ticket was labeled with ‘24 Hour Free Trial Breeding Pass’. A simple ‘Get out of contract consequences’ offering since Malleus seemed so keen on trying to change their agreement at every slight inconvenience. How getting pregnant will help them pass their algebra class, they weren’t sure…
“What is there to ask? I read it and know what it offers.” Malleus kissed along their jaw, chuckling under his breath  as he picked his spot to leave a mark, “I will collect my prize when I see fit.”
Well, that was only mildly concerning~♡
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banned-for-horny · 4 months
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ok but vrel has ABSOLUTELY lied to throw people off the trail of the story before? and isnt it extremely hinted at that PC is like. reincarnated or something? like they have flashes of forgotten memories all over the place and IW seems to know them and calls them “reflection” and “memory” and such all the time, and theres the song that jordan and sydney both sing and you hear in the sewers that sounds familiar, and vrel has also flat out said PC is special to Bailey somehow, who apparently has a place in what the temple is doing (or at least thats hinted at when Bailey comes to get the weekly payment from PC at the temple) so like.. i dont buy that theres absolutely nothing extraordinary about them at all. maybe others are just as important or more important, but PC isnt just a nothing nobody either.
Oh yeah definitely you can't fucking tell me PC doesn't have some kind of weird shit going on with themself and the town around them.
Like even that line about PC always being accompanied by Bailey or their thugs when they were a baby and having so much trouble remembering their childhood is suspicious alone. I can excuse the IW because maybe they just have a warped perception of the world and mistakes anyone for their old second half.
but but but. again. if we go with the "Syzygy" idea and the general vibes of Gnosticism (that is, the concept of a false god, the false world, etc etc), IW thinking PC is their other half feels like something.
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silverbladexyz · 1 year
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Feel free to ignore my ask if you end up getting overwhelmed with requests. I demand that you prioritize your health and wellbeing over anything else I request!
So, I’ve been in the mood for love triangles recently, particularly Soukoku x reader or Fyodor x reader x Dazai (cuz I love their competitive nature over things they mutually care about) however, let’s make the reader naive and oblivious to a lot of what goes on around them so whenever the two people from whichever threesome you pick to write are competing behind their back or even in front of the reader, they’re just like, “hey Dazai, isn’t the sunset super pretty today?” And if it’s not too much to ask, could we make the reader have epilepsy who gets embarrassed every time they have a seizure in public or end up causing trouble for other people with their disorder? (Message me if you need details on what it’s like if you don’t know) but like, I always see anxiety, depression, bad thoughts, and that kind of stuff, but not once have I come across an epileptic reader before so as someone with incurable epilepsy, it would be nice to read at least one
Again, don’t feel obligated to write this request if it’s too difficult or it makes you uncomfortable or especially if it takes a toll on you health. Stay healthy and take care of yourself!
Shadowww!! Welcome back, and ofc I'm perfectly happy to write this for you ^-^ This is Dazai and Chuuya with reader btw
The image does not belong to me. It belongs to it's original owner.
TW: Threats, mentions of death, Soukoku being competitive idiots
Dazai and Chuuya in love with reader
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-So I think that you would know them both back when Dazai was still in the Port Mafia, and still continued to keep in contact up to the present time
-You were just a normal civilian, however, you had somehow managed to befriend and even catch the eye of two particular hot men. And when they both figured out that the other had feelings for you, oh boy did the drama escalate x10
-Basically they would be bickering and throwing insults at each other a lot more, and sometimes it might even have ended up in Chuuya beating up Dazai if it weren’t for your intervention. It still doesn’t stop them from sending death glares at each other though, and anybody could literally feel the death vibes emitting from the both of them
-Even though they were both fighting over you, they had a mutual agreement to work together to protect you from any dangers. Many times you had survived countless incidents because of Dazai’s swift brain and Chuuya’s extraordinary ability to fight
-But what was so frustrating was your obliviousness and your naive personality. Dazai could be outright telling you that he loved you while Chuuya would bring you to all these fancy places as an indirect message of his feelings towards you, however, you had always brushed it off and thanked them, saying ‘you’re such a good friend’. Both are ready to shoot themselves if they get friendzoned one more time (lmao dw they won’t)
-However, the first time you had a seizure in a public place, both stopped their bickering at once. Dazai helped you to get into a position that wouldn’t put you at any risk of harming yourself, while Chuuya did call for medical help/got your medicines for you. They were confused on why you were embarrassed about your epilepsy, but when they learned the reason, nobody is going to get away with making fun of you, or even staring for a second too long in public
-If anyone dares to make fun of you or bully you for your epilepsy... don’t forget that there is an ex-mafia executive with his former partner who wouldn��t hesitate to do unspeakable things for you. That person would consider themselves lucky if they weren't already given a warning by a certain bandaged detective
-I feel like they would learn more about epilepsy and what to do, so that the next time you had a seizure, they would know what to do. It still doesn’t stop them from bickering on who gets to roll you into the recovery position though... but these bickers are normally very short because their number one priority is to help you
-Dazai would verbally cheer you up whenever you were feeling down, and Chuuya will buy you nice things and take you to beautiful places to help you feel better. Both are trying so hard to tell you how much they love you without directly saying it because of social anxiety actually it’s fear of rejection and losing to the other person
-However, there are a few moments where they both finally get along, and it is when they see you gazing at something with clear admiration in your eyes. Normally it’s the pretty sunset, and both finally shut up because they don’t want to ruin the moment for you. The air is finally peaceful for once
-But don’t think you’ll be in peace for too long. Some time or later, they’re both going to confess to you, and you’ll have to choose which one you’ll accept into your life romantically
-Or just reject both of them and slay as a single pringle 💅 slay with me bestie xD
@sariel626 @pixyys @pianotross @the-mourning-stars @nekokinax @yuugen-benni @xxelfmamaxx @lakeside-paradise @catzlivedforbsd
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