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justporo · 7 months

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A Night of Fake Smiles and Hidden Lies (Prologue: A knock on the door)

Author's note: So, here we are, the prologue to the next longer story I already teased quite a bit. Enjoy! I'll start posting on October 5th - giving me some time to get ahead on writing hopefully. Please let me know if you want to get tagged. Spoilers ahead!

Summary: Astarion and you had settled down in Baldur’s Gate. For almost half a year now had you been living in your small, but cozy and quite luxurious townhouse in the Upper City – causing rampant rumours around the nobles in the city.

One night, Tav and Astarion receive an invitation to attend a ball that’s promising to be the city’s biggest event in quite some time. Astarion feels his time has come to finally show Tav some of his world: ballroom politics, waltzing, sipping on the finest champagne, gossiping while laughing and showing off your own prosperity, unthinkable debauchery going on behind closed doors – an excessive night to remember.

And the night might hold more surprises than either Astarion or Tav would have expected…

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Astarion / Fem!Tav (You)

CHAPTER LIST | NEXT CHAPTER

Astarion and you were sitting in the big window alcove of your living room – the one you had equipped with some pillows and a blanket so the two of you could always sit there comfortably and watch out through the tall window onto the Upper City of Baldur’s Gate. The lights in the city were twinkling, while you both had snuggled up at one of your favourite places in your house.

Astarion was reading one of his many books he had started to collect and scatter all over the place. His brows were deeply furrowed as he was silently mumbling to himself while reading, one of his fingers absent mindedly moved over his bottom lip – and only ever stopped when he grabbed the chalice of wine beside him.

You were sitting there as well, facing him and trying to capture him and his thoughtfulness in a drawing while also admiring how effortlessly beautiful he just was at any given moment. This wasn’t the first time you’d drawn him and it wouldn’t be the last. Before, you hadn’t drawn in quite some time but were eager to brush up your skills again to fulfil a promise you’d given your vampire quite some time ago, when you had been on the road, adventuring.

“You know”, you teasingly broke the comfortable and companionable silence “if you would stop frowning so much it would take fifty years off of that face of yours immediately.” You chuckled and looked up from your drawing with only your eyes to catch the elf’s reaction. You were massively proud with the joke that had only taken you like the past half hour to come up with.

Astarion looked up from his book, eyes wide, finger still on his lip, and raised his eyebrows askingly at you – seemingly still miles away in his head. But then the meaning of your words clicked into place for him: his eyes narrowed, one of his eyebrows gave an annoyed twitch and he pursed his lips.

“Did no one ever teach you to respect your elders, my dear?” You simply giggled in response. “You’re awfully rude, my love, who could have possibly taught you to be this brutal?”, he asked in a playfully shocked manner and snapped his book shut in a swift movement. You kept looking at him a while longer and raised your eyebrows before you let your gaze roll back slowly to your current drawing project – no further comment needed.

“You’ve spent too much time in my company, my love”, you heard Astarion say and then a pleased chuckle afterwards. A soft clink indicated that he was taking another sip of wine.

“I think I haven’t spent enough in it – like ever”, you replied, a warm smile creeping onto your face while you started to work on your drawn lines again. You heard another very pleased chuckle and then sensed that Astarion was leaning to you. When you lifted your head to meet his gaze your faces were so close that your noses were almost touching. The vampire’s ruby eyes were glinting in the soft light of the candles all over the room. A smirk had found its way on his face, bringing out his laugh lines and soft crinkles around his eyes.

Your mouth opened slightly. It was like you knew his face better than any other and better than your own and still seemed to spot a new beautiful minor detail in it every time you looked at him. A dreamy sigh left your lips, you couldn’t help yourself – you desperately meant it when you’d said that you couldn’t ever spend enough time with him.

A sparkle entered Astarion’s eyes. Knowing full well the effect he had on you – that magnificent bastard. So he cocked his head slightly and acted coyly: “Care to show me your newest piece?” “Hm, I don’t know, do I?”, you replied puckering your lips and acting hard to get. The pale elf drew his brows together once more and looked pensively at you. “Hm… Yes. Yes, I think you do!“, he then said.

You weren’t quite ready to give in yet. “Maybe I do need some convincing”, you offered and started to grin. “Convincing? Love, next thing I know, you’ll be asking me to pay you.” “Wouldn’t it be worth it?”

Astarion huffed. “Of course, it would be, but I was thus far convinced you were doing this out of the goodness of your heart and not greed”, he dramatically responded. “Well, then maybe a kiss will suffice for now.” “Now this is the kind of payment I can get behind”, the vampire cheerfully replied and cupped your face softly in one of his hands and closed the distance between you.

The kiss he gave you was long and sweet and made you carefully cover his hand with your own. When he broke the kiss again you felt warm and fuzzy. “What generous payment”, you whispered breathlessly. At that the vampire smirked: “Oh don’t start to think there was a tip in there, that was a down-payment for your next masterpiece.”

You stuck your tongue out at him for his commentary but still offered up your sketchbook with your newest piece of him. This one had really turned out well, you were proud of yourself.

Astarion carefully took the small book from you. As always it seemed like an incredibly honourable moment for him. The way he always spent several long moments taking in your work before he even started to say anything made your heart swell and break simultaneously.

“I look so scholarly here – more than Gale even, wouldn’t you agree, my heart?”, he said after several heartbeats while still looking at the drawing. He wasn’t wrong: the way he was holding the book and leaning into it with his whole body, brows drawn together in concentration, finger wandering over his lip while lost in thought.

“You look beautiful, Astarion”, you said. At that, Astarion’s head moved up to look at you – an open and sincere smile on his face. “Only because you are such a wonderful artist, Tav”, he replied while his smile grew broader even. “But for all I know you could massively exaggerate and I could just be painfully ugly and that’s why you and other people keep staring at me”, he answered and theatrically placed the back of his hand that wasn’t holding your sketchbook on his forehead.

“Suuuure”, you reacted dryly and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m only kidding, my love. I thought I’d try being humble for once”, the vampire grinned back. “Yeah, it doesn’t suit you, better stay with the arrogance, dearest.”

Astarion was just about to reply when there was a knock on your front door.

Which was more than just a little weird since you near never received any visitors (and were mostly glad for it) – in fact, you weren’t sure, if someone had ever used the knocker on the door since the two of you had moved into the place.

“Was that-“, you started with furrowed brows. “A knock on the door? I think so”, Astarion finished your sentence, seemingly just as confused as you. He turned to look over his shoulder in an attempt to maybe spot whoever had been so brave out of the living room window – but it was impossible. The only thing you could see was that the small wrought-iron gate, that fenced off the street from the few steps up to the front door, had been opened.

“We weren’t expecting any company, were we?”, the vampire asked while getting up from his comfortable seat. Worry was now clearly showing on his face. It was probably nothing, but after all the two of you – and especially Astarion – had been through, it couldn’t hurt to stay cautious.

So, the vampire threw you another careful glance and then made his way to the front door. You followed closely behind.

When Astarion opened the door, you could see that it was an older, balding man in a head-to-toe black servant uniform at the door. He was standing as straight as an arrow, one arm at his back, the other holding a small envelope in front of him in a gloved hand. His head was lifted in an arrogant pose and you immediately felt stared down despite the man not being very tall.

“Ugh finally”, you hear the servant say under his breath in a tone you could only describe as “posh” and “Upper”. Astarion narrowed his eyes at him and coughed conspicuously, assuring the man that he had heard that.

“With whom do I have the pleasure?”, Astarion said then, immediately mirroring the tone of the visitor in front of him. You had definitely heard him use that kind of voice before – thousands of times – but he laid it on thick effortlessly.

The servant now seemingly reminded of his manners – or rather his duty to have manners – gave a curt bow and then spoke while offering Astarion the envelope he held: “I am here to relay an invitation by his gracious Lordship Lord De Grodt to his upcoming ball to Lord Ancunín” – his voice made clear he didn’t even remotely think he was dealing with a lord – “and, uhm…” The servant started to stutter his eyes wandering from Astarion to you standing close behind him with a raised eyebrow. “Tav?”, the messenger finished in a question rather than a statement.

The vampire took the offered envelope and clearly wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the situation. The servant now had placed his other hand on his back as well and had resumed holding his head up in arrogance.

“Please present your invitation if you attend”, he said abruptly, then turned on his heels and walked off without another glance or word – and left the gate to the street open. “What a prick”, you whispered while Astarion flipped the envelope other and started to open it. You walked past him and down the few steps to close the gate, when you heard a voice speak to you.

“Ah, did you receive an invitation too, my two dear neighbours? The messenger was awfully rude, wasn’t he?”, a well clothed older lady was walking down the street on the other side. She waved slowly and came over to you. You didn’t even know her name, but she was your neighbour living in an enormous mansion on the other side of the street. Over the last few months since you had moved into your new home, she had been the only one of the people living around that had deemed you two worthy of being talked to. And she was actually a really nice lady even though you hadn’t figured out why she had taken a liking to the both of you – or why she was surprisingly often out after the sun had gone down.

You had asked her once about it to which she had slapped your wrist playfully with a fan she’d been holding: “Nah, my dear girl, that is such a rude question to ask, don’t you think? I’m not asking you why the both of you seem to be up all night, basically every night, do I?” She had pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows and you had blushed a deep red at what she had implied. “But if you are so keen to know: I have no husband anymore but a mostly empty mansion – so I like to take long walks to not feel so lonely and keep myself in form to stay alone in an empty house for longer.” She had laughed about it, but you had felt empathy for the woman. So, you had offered to her to come by for a cup of tea if she ever felt too lonely. The sincere offer had taken her off guard obviously. Maybe she hadn’t expected much of a genuine response to her rambling. She had thanked you but never taken you up on your offer. But you chatted for a few minutes whenever you saw each other. Even Astarion had talked to her a few times and taken a liking to the lady. And she seemed positively infatuated with him, telling him once how he reminded her of her late husband and winking at him – which would have surely made even Astarion blush if that had been possible.

“Yes, awfully”, you agreed to her now. “Well, at least I know two of the people that will be attending, hm, my dear?”, the older woman replied and grinned at you but then already turned around to leave. “Greet your beau from me, will you?”, she said while she was already on her way but still shortly waved at Astarion at the top of the stairs, staring at the invitation and not noticing the short exchange.

You closed up the gate and went back to your vampire. “So?”, you simply asked and leaned over to see the invitation. “Lord Ancunín – has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”, Astarion chimed happily and grinned at you. You looked at the invitation in his slender hands. Two golden lines framed the card and under a decorative print stood in elegant cursive writing: “His Lordship Lord De Grodt requests the pleasure of the Company of Lord Astarion Ancunín & Tav to a Ball at Herrenfordt Castle on October 5th, 1493 DR after dusk.”

“They really only just wrote ‘Tav’? Should I be insulted?” “You don’t have a last name?”, Astarion asked while looking up from the card. “No, Astarion, I grew up on the streets, because my parents abandoned me – I’m only Tav, always have been”, you answered, only a tad of bitterness in your voice. “Well, my love, you could always just take mine”, the vampire replied smugly and grinned at you. “Weird way to propose”, you muttered under your breath but then immediately said before Astarion could react: “So what do you make of this?”

“I do know the palace where this is taking place, but I’ve never heard of this lord”, he answered lost in thought and drew his brows together once more. Then he seemed to remember your question, lifted up one finger and looked at you expectantly: “Do you know how to tell from an invitation how big and expensive of an event it is going to be?” “Astarion, I’ve never been to a ball in my life.” “Indulge me, sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes at him and cursed him under your breath. “Fine, how do you tell?” “So nice of you to ask, my love”, the elf replied and smiled at you as if you hadn’t just called him a name for being pretentious.

“Let’s take a look, shall we?”, he started and flicked the card with a finger. “First off: paper quality. This is very thick and finely grained paper, so already much better than what you’ll find in most books. Bonus point one. Secondly: writing. All spelled correctly, good ink, incredible cursive writing the likes of which isn’t cheap to get by – especially if you have probably hundreds of invitations to hand out. Bonus point two.” He kept twirling the card around while excitedly telling you about its properties – you were rather keen to get back inside…

“And lastly: décor! Not only has this card some printing on it for which a custom stamp must’ve been made but it is embossed with gold, twice. Bonus point three. Thus, my dearest Tav, this will be one of the biggest and probably most unforgettable events Baldur’s Gate has seen in quite some time. I can’t wait to go”, Astarion finished and grinned self-assuredly at you. You slowly blinked at him: “Do I get to have any say in this, or…”

Astarion pouted at you and made puppy eyes at you: “You can’t be saying this after dragging me to this hellhole of a tavern and making me put up with your horrible ex-lover.” Well, he had you there. After all, you had put him through quite the chaotic night when you had proposed to go to one of your favourite places in the city. But still…

When he saw that you were still hesitant, he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you – deeply, this time. A kiss that took all your breath away and left you longing for more when he lifted his lips from yours again. He knew exactly what he was doing. “Pretty please, my sweet sweet darling love?”, he pouted and his ruby puppy eyes seemed to grow bigger.

You sighed in defeat but still poked a finger at him: “I am not doing anything that involves wearing a corset.” At that Astarion simply smirked at you. “You can’t possibly propose to go like this, my love” – he gave you an once-over – “as much as I love your butt in these leather pants, anyway. But we’ll have to get you a dress, dearest.”

Just the thought made you uncomfortable. You didn’t reply and simply made your way back inside after untangling from him. Astarion followed you, putting a hand on your back after closing the front door. “Don’t worry, my heart, just leave it to me to get you something adequate. I’ll even make sure to avoid it having a corset”, he promised you with a smile when he grabbed your shoulder and softly made you face him.

That was indeed very nice of him and you were more than sure that Astarion would find you the perfect thing to wear, but the thought of attending such an event still made you uncomfortable. “What’s on your mind, my love? Worried about stepping on my toes when we’ll dance?”, he asked and pulled you close in a dancing position – the hand with the envelope and invitation still in it pressing flush to the small of your back pulling you close and the other grabbing your hand and lifting it up. He softly started humming and twirled you around in a lazy waltz. “Don’t worry, I’ll practice with you. All the dances. The silly ones, Wyll showed you once. The fast ones. The intimate ones.” Of course, he knew all of these. You’d put your other hand on his shoulder and let yourself get swirled around. The two of you had danced together before – in fact it had become one of your favourite pastimes.

“That’s not it, Astarion, it’s rather… I don’t think I’ll blend in very well. I mean, look at the invitation”, you explained and couldn’t help some sadness creeping into your voice. Astarion’s cheerful mood faltered a little, but he kept dancing with you around your living room: “My love, neither do I, really. It doesn't matter. We’ll be going there for us: get all dolled up, drink our body weight in excessively expensive wine and champagne, dance all other guests into the ground, spread some rumours and maybe pickpocket some diamond cuff links - how does that sound?”

A smile had crept back onto your lips. “Now that sounds like a happening, I can get myself behind.”

And to that Astarion threw his head back and laughed while he started to turn faster with you in his arms. “It’ll be a marvellous night, my heart, marvellous!”

Author's note: I hope you enjoyed! I am so excited to get into writing this!

Tags: @aurasyn @margoteve @usuallyunlikelyfox @hollowmasque

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #a night of fake smiles and hidden lies

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vminizzle · 1 year

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Under the bed pt.2

pairing : college boyfriend!jungkook x f.reader

genre : smut, fluff

warnings : marking, pet names, praising, teasing, fingering, handjob, nipple play, dirty talk, shower sex, penetration, unprotected sex

words count : 3.2k

A/N : hello hello my dear people, like promised here’s the part 2 of "under the bed". It’s my first time writing shower seggs, nipple play, dirty talk and handjob 🧍🏽‍♀️ pls have some mercy on me. thanks. Thank you for reading my writings guys, it means a lot. I know I’m saying it often but it’s not enough to express how thankful I am. Love y’all! REMINDER : POOR ENGLISH

you can read "under the bed pt.1" (HERE)

FEEDBACKS ARE VERY WELCOMED

M RATED

Jungkook groaned into your neck as a loud knock echoed through the room.

"y/n, baby be quiet ´m tired." he yawned, laying his leg over your body as he hug you tightly.

"kook." you whined opening your eyes, the sunlight caressing your face.

"y/n!" you gasped as you heard your dad at the other side of the door.

"fuck." you sat up panicked as you looked down at a sleepy Jungkook grabbing your arm to cuddle.

"Jungkook!" you whisper-yelled.

"my dad is here." you slapped his bare scratched back making him groan.

"tell him to go away then." he closed his tired eyes again as a cute pout made its way on his lips, sleep getting him again.

He’s definitely not aware of the situation.

"gosh." you rubbed your eyes already anxious in the early morning - wait - what time is it-

"y/n, are you still sleeping? It’s past 12 already. Are you ok?" you dad asked a bit worried.

"h-hello dad.. I just woke up sorry. I was just tired." you said while stretching your sore muscles.

"oh ok. can you open the door? I need to talk with you. It’s important." he asked.

You opened your eyes widely panicking as you glanced down again at the naked exhausted man hugging your waist.

"y/n? you sleeping again?"

"no no dad. I’m fine. Hm, can you just tell me now?"

"y/n open the door please." he asked confused at why you were so hesitant.

"hm.. i.. yea. just give me a minute." you bit your bottom lip throwing the blanket to the side as you got out the bed.

"Jungkook."you grabbed your boyfriend’s heavy arm pulling him to you.

"c’mon, wake up idiot." you shook him as he open his eyes slowly before sending your a soft smile.

"g’morning my love." he greeted you with his hot deep morning voice.

lord, you would had asked him to make babies but it wasn’t the good time.

"shh." you put your finger over your own lips gesturing him to stay quiet.

He looked at you confused, his eyes suddenly darkening as they wandered on your body. Marks covering your bare legs, the way he could noticed that you weren’t wearing a bra under his shirt you stole last night.

Nice, he’s hard now.

"please get up my dad’s here." you pointed to the door.

Jungkook jumped out the bed only wearing his boxer.

"what? since when? why didn’t you tell me!?" he grabbed you by your shoulders making you face him.

"well, idiot, I tried to but Sir was too tired to listen to me." you pinched his nose.

"I’m tired because you stole my whole night." he defended himself smirking.

"shut the fuck up. You’re the one that stole my night." you pursed your lips bending down to grab his jeans from the floor and handing it to him.

"now go. go hide somewhere."

"under the bed?" he raised an eyebrow, his eyes still puffy.

"why not." you sigh before rushing to grab a sweatpants from your closet and wear it to cover your legs quickly.

You glanced back one last time to the bed making sure your boyfriend was well-hidden before unlocking your bedroom’s door.

"good morning dad." you forced a smile as your dad stare at you.

"morning, what took you so long? you sure you’re okay?" he furrowed his eyebrows.

"oh y’know your daughter huh. so lazy I take a century to get up… I’m exhausted." you faked a yawn.

"did you sleep late?" you gulped rethinking quickly about last night’s events.

"I.. I.. well, not really." you lied.

"Can I come in?"

"Ah! Yes." you let him walk in the room.

You observed as he came closer to the bed stopping right in front of it.

"Dad, you alright?" you asked nervously.

"yes." he answered before sitting on the edge of it.

"Well, I came to tell you something important." he cleared his voice.

"tell me." you walked closer to your dad, giving him all your attention.

"i’m going overseas for a week for work. So, I’ll leave you alone… again." he sighed making you smile softly as he looked up at you a bit sad.

"dad-"

"do you want to sleep at your aunt’s? friend’s? or maybe I can call a babysitter." he suggested making you chocked.

"A what? Dad! I’m not a kid anymore." you protested making him laugh.

"I know, I’m sorry. I just.. I’m just worried, I don’t like knowing you alone."

"Dad, you don’t have to worry about that. I can take care of myself." you reassured him.

"I know you can." he smiled.

"When are you leaving?" you asked curiously.

"This afternoon." he sighed annoyed.

"I got this important e-mail from my boss late last night. He really needs me to represent the company in Japan."

You were about to talk again when you noticed one of Jungkook’s shoes near the foot of your bed. You gulped as you walk to it, trying to kick it discreetly under your bed as you spoke again.

"I.. well, I’m sure you got this! You always slay!" you said enthusiastically making your dad laugh.

"Thanks for your encouraging words y/n." he got up patting your shoulder.

"well, I need to go prepare my luggage." You walked him to the door but before exiting the room he looked at you with a confused expression.

"What is it?"

"Did you have that shirt last night? this isn’t yours, right? I’ve never seen it." he pointed to the black oversized shirt.

Now it’s over. You’re dead.

"Y-Yes! I had this last night but … I guess you couldn’t saw it in the dark.. and I bought this recently that’s why it’s new.. and hm.. well go go do your luggage you will be late." You hugged him quickly pushing him outside your room gently. "oh ok! See you soon. Take care. I’ll message you." he waved at you as he walk away, your heart sinking as you watched your dad go to his own bedroom.

You locked your door, turning around as you heard your boyfriend speak.

"Your dad is really something." he commented as he crawled out from under the bed.

"and again, I was ready to face death." he grinned.

"Look what I found." He raised his hand up, holding your bra in the air.

You rolled your eyes as he smirk, discarding the garment on your bed.

"gosh I love waking up next to you." He laid on your bed again, hand up gesturing you to come to him. You approached your half naked boyfriend, as he sat up.

"Can I give you a morning kiss?" he asked caressing your cheek.

"Not before you brush your teeth." you ruffled his messy hair.

"Are you kidding me?" he gasped grabbing you by your waist pulling you between his parted legs.

"Let me kiss you." he pouted playfully making you sigh. "please?"

"fine! But just a peck. Because morning breath ain’t my thing." you pursed your lips making him grin widely.

"I’ll go with that then." he pulled you down on him so you could sit on his lap, hand going behind your lower back to hold you close to his warm body.

He pecked your lips softly, resting his lips on yours.

"I allowed a peck only." you pulled away laughing making him groan as he let his body fell back on the mattress.

"y/n." he huffed.

"what?" you held his hand resting on your thigh.

"I want you." he stared at you making your cheeks warm up.

"You made me hard." he whined as you look down gulping, realizing the bulge confined in his -now tight- boxer.

"Last night wasn’t enough?" you joked.

"I can’t get enough of you darling." he smirked.

"Jungkook." you diverted your gaze away feeling flustered.

"don’t you want me too?" god if only he knew how much you do.

"I … just… you.. morning breath!" you reminded, making him sat up abruptly, pushing you aside as he started walking away.

"wait, where are you going?" you asked confused.

"bathroom. gonna brush those teeth so I could put them at work to take these pretty panties off." he winked before disappearing into your bedroom-connected-bathroom.

The excitement was bubbling inside you. His words always affecting you.

He’s just so confident.

After a few minutes, Jungkook came out from the bathroom, face fresh, his hair pushed back.

"now, your turn pretty." he pointed to you then to the bathroom, making you nod as you pass by him, this one taking the opportunity to deliver a light slap on your ass.

Entering the bathroom, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

gosh, you looked dead. last night, this man didn’t joke. he really stole your whole night.

Just after brushing your teeth, you slightly jumped when someone opened the door abruptly.

"god, Jungkook! you scared me." you threw water on him making him chuckle as he closed the door behind him.

"sorry sorry." he came behind you, looking at the both of you in the mirror.

"Look at you. So pretty." he commented before leaning into your neck, pressing a soft kiss on the still sensitive marked skin.

The hickeys so fresh, you lucky your dad didn’t notice.

You closed your eyes enjoying the softness of his lips against your neck.

Jungkook bit on the flesh lightly, making you moan, tilting your head to the side offering him more to explore.

He suddenly turned you around, looking straight into your eyes, his hands resting on your hips.

"Can I kiss you properly now, my love?" he lifted an eyebrow up expectantly.

“kiss me.” you smiled grabbing him by the back of neck pulling him down to capture his lips in a sweet kiss.

Jungkook deepened the kiss getting excited, his grip on your hips tightening as he pushed his body on yours, caging you between the sink and his muscular body.

“I need you so bad, you can’t even imagine.” he breathed out, grinding his clothed erection on your lower stomach making you feel dizzy already.

“I want you too.” you whispered, your heart beating faster.

He suddenly turned you around making you face the mirror again.

His hands went down to the hem of your -his- shirt, slowly pulling it up over your head revealing your beautifully marked body making you shiver at the cold air hitting your skin.

His eyes met yours in the mirror “look at how fucking pretty you are, only for me.” he tilted his head to the side as he watch you close your eyes.

He threw the shirt in the basket of dirty clothes near the door, hands now on the waistband of your sweatpants ready to pull it down your legs.

He pushed it down after the nod of consent you gave him, leaving you in your panties.

His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, eyes on your bare chest.

“fuck.” Jungkook muttered, hands slowly caressing their ways up from your sides to cup them, grabbing them gently.

You moaned softly, resting your head back on his bare chest.

He stroked his thumb lightly against your nipple making you breath heavily.

You watched him fondle with your breasts, eyes focusing on him twisting your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, feeling dizzy as he bent down a little, lips connecting with your neck again, biting on the sensitive flesh.

You rubbed your thighs together getting too excited, one of his hand cascading down to where you wanted him.

"Jungkook." you whimpered as his fingertips came in contact with your lightly covered clit.

He hummed against your skin, rubbing it softly making you grab on his wrist.

Your boyfriend lifted his head, eyes meeting yours in the mirror as you turned your head toward the shower.

He instantly got the hint, both of you getting rid of your underwear before walked toward it.

You turned it on, stepping under the water, feeling the liquid getting warmer as you closed your eyes pleasantly.

Jungkook stood right behind your naked body, hands finding their places on your stomach pulling you closer to him.

The atmosphere was getting hot, not only because of the really warm water falling on your bodies pleasantly, perhaps, your boyfriend’s hand lowering down between your thighs was the reason.

Shivers ran down your spine as you felt his boner rubbing on your lower back, his breath fanning on your neck.

"I need you so so bad, y/n." he whispered lowly.

"you can’t even imagine how much." he continued, fingertips travelling up to your core.

"how much, I want to feel you around me." two of his long fingers teased your entrance making you gulp.

"how much, I want to stretch you, feel you tighten around me." he slowly entered his fingers inside you, earning him a soft moan.

"how much I want to make you scream my name loudly." he nibbled on your earlobe making you roll you eyes in pleasure as his fingers pick up the pace, moving faster.

"Jungkook." you rested your head back on his shoulder making him smirk.

"Am I making you feel good, baby?" he whispered near your ear.

"s-so good." you held his wrist tightly.

Feeling you clenched around his fingers, he knew you were getting close.

His free hand came to your chest, fondling your breast again, thumb flicking your nipple making you let out a loud moan.

"shh, baby don’t want your dad to hear you, do you?" he teased, thumb coming in contact with your clit to rub it, adding stimulation to push you closer to your orgasm.

You shook your head, biting on your bottom lip hard to keep quiet.

You couldn’t held it anymore when his finger hit that spot that could make you see start as you came on his fingers.

Jungkook caressed your waist, fingers still moving helping you ride your orgasm.

"you did well, princess." he pecked your cheek.

After a few seconds, you turned around instantly grabbing him by his neck, pulling him down on you for a kiss.

Jungkook’s arms encircled your body, pulling you closer, your chest flat again his muscular one.

You sucked on his bottom lip, making him moan at the feeling of your tongue.

Your hand was placed on his front toned body, letting it slid down with the warm water until your hand reached his hard cock.

Your hand grabbed his erection making him groaned.

"fuck." he put his forehead on yours, looking down at your fingers enveloping his cock perfectly.

You started moving your wrist, stroking his cock painfully slow, your thumb rubbing on the head of it making it twitch.

"fuck! keep going." he closed his eyes shut tight as you tighten your grip, moving faster.

"are you close babe?" your heard him hummed in response.

You rubbed your thumb over the slit, making him let his head fall on your shoulder, a low moan passing by his lips.

"fuck, i want you." he grabbed your hand stopping your movement.

"right. now." he looked into your eyes deeply, your breath hitching.

He captured your lips in a eager kiss, backing you to the cold shower wall before grabbing one of your thigh raising it up to his waist.

Your hands found his long black wet hair, fingers pulling on the locks as you felt his other hand lowering down to your core, a finger sliding through your folds, collecting your wetness.

"gosh you’re so wet for me." he smirked making you roll your eyes.

"no, that’s just water." you pursed your lips as he lightly slapped your thigh making you laugh.

"wasn’t funny. didn’t laugh." he shook his head playfully.

"you no fun." you grinned before pecking his lips quickly earning a smile from your boyfriend.

"C’mon, I’ll show you how fun I can be." he poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue making your inside twist.

He was so hot.

His hand guided his hard cock to your entrance, sliding the tip through your wet folds, teasing you.

He pushed inside you slowly, his cock filling you up causing you to let out a loud moan.

Jungkook smirked seeing your already weak state, before pulling out, letting just his tip inside.

"stop teasing idiot." you groaned frustrated.

"you said I’m no fun." he pouted playfully making you roll your eyes.

"you’re so unserious." you huffed.

"well, you sure about that?" he said before thrusting forward, your hands gripping on his shoulder tightly.

"fuck!"

One of his hand still held your thigh securely above his waist, while the other gripped your hip, keeping your body pressed against his.

"C’mon tell me I’m fun." he put his forehead on yours making you scoffed.

"Jungkook. Are you fucking serious right n- ah fuck!" you whimpered, nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders as he picked up the pace.

"never been more serious." he said between breath.

You ran your fingers through his wet hair, one hand still holding on his shoulder.

"C’mon baby." he ordered, his hips snapping into yours making you let a sob pass by your lips.

"tell me i’m fun."

"fuck it! you’re.. you’re fun." you threw your head back against the wall as he kept on hitting your g-spot.

"you’re such a good girl." Jungkook smirked against your marked skin, leaving little wet kisses.

You slapped the back of his head making him groan.

"and you’re such an annoying idiot."

"your annoying idiot." he snickered.

You closed your eyes feeling the familiar knot in the pit of stomach as Jungkook went faster, your body pressed against the cold shower wall.

"oh my- I’m so close." you bit on your bottom lip, feeling the taste of blood, realizing you’ve been biting on it hardly.

"me too." Jungkook breathed out.

You planted your head against Jungkook’s shoulder, his fingernails buried deep into your hip as he held it tightly.

The head of his cock touching your spot at each snaps of his hips which made your body quiver in pleasure.

You thought you were about to faint when you felt his hand cascading down between your bodies to your clit drawing little circles on it.

Your walls started convulsing around him, making him feel lightheaded.

"C’mon my love." he licked your jawline.

"Cum for me." he ordered.

It was the last straw, his deep voice making your heart beat faster, as you came around him with a loud moan of his name.

"fuck! I’m-" Jungkook couldn’t finished his sentence as he pulled out, cumming on your shaky thighs.

Jungkook held you against him, strong arms wrapped around your waist, your knees ready to give up if you didn’t support yourself on something.

"you did well, so well." he said soothing you, hand caressing your back.

"i love you." you whispered, looking up at him.

He grinned widely before leaving a soft kiss on your forehead "i love you."

After a few seconds, you pulled away from his embrace, grabbing your shampoo handing it to him.

Jungkook tilted his head to the side confused as he took the bottle from your hands.

"wash my hair?" you smiled cutely pointing to your head, making his heart melt.

"I’d love to." he said before pecking your lips one last time before turning your body around.

—

A/N : ong my fav couple ☹️ my turn when?? *sigh* anyway, I hope you liked it! love you guys!! take care of yourselves.

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koisuko · 1 month

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Could I request reader as a cat, but with the mk 1 girls?

Absolutely! (Forgive me this is long overdue and has been sitting in my drafts, im slowly losing my passion and motivation for mk1 content im sorry jehfjsjf)

Pov: You are a cat (pt4)

how the mk1 characters react to you as a stray cat, one with an oddly familiar/fitting name

part 1, part 2, part 3, bonus

Tw: none, gn, platonic, kitty cat

Ft: Mileena, Kitana, Sindel, Li Mei, Tanya

Mileena

Ever since her mother past, even if her soul was safe with her father, she found it hard to find the time to grieve. It wasn’t the same, not being able to speak to her, hug her, learn from her. And now, the newly passed duties of empress was thrown on her by circumstance, taking up nearly her entire day.

When in the solace of her room, hidden away from prying eyes, even for just a moment, she would let a tear slip down her cheek. All the inner turmoil collected into that single drop, and staining the silky case of her pillow.

All the struggle was slowly healed when you came along, trotting happily into the castle with your tail held high. You were a stray, with your once soft black fur now dirty and matted. She took pity on you, feeling the need to care for you tugging at the strings of her aching heart. And so she did, finding an almost therapeutic rhythm when brushing your shiny coat. Upon finding the small tag dangling on your neck, she was baffled to see it read ‘Tanya’. She almost giggled at it, such a bizarre coincidence to find a gentle companion with the same name as her lover.

During the nights, when the peace and quiet is a luxury earned, she lays on her satin sheets in deep thought. You, her new found friend, curled into a small ball against her side. Your purrs vibrate through her waist, bringing out a soft sigh of content from her lips. “Thank you, Tanya,” she whispered, “you’ve done a wonderful job fending off the sadness that plagues me.” She gently stroked your back, reaching up to scratch behind your ears. Both of you, at peace even for a moment, slipped into a dreamless slumber.

Kitana

It was hard watching her sister, watching her lack the time to grieve, watching her suffer in silence and create a fake facade of happiness in front of the people. Kitana wasn’t as high status as her, so she could afford just a little time alone, something she was grateful for. If she could, she would take her place, even for a moment to allow her some freedom.

Even with the time she had, she still missed her mother greatly. It was too early, unnatural even for her mother to be gone. She almost felt lost, lacking her mother’s usual guidance and watchful eye was akin to a motherless fawn.

It had been a normal day, tending to duties, but a particularly sad day. A day filled with heavy sorrow, the stages of grief hitting Kitana like a train. Her sister is busy, tending to duties as a new empress, and this left her feeling empty and alone. Never the less, she kept a neutral expression through out the day, even a small smile for the cherry on top.

But as night came, she’d sit out in the courtyard, here eyes to the stars above. She’d whisper to the night sky, one prayer at a time, for the safety of her family and the palace. A sudden rustle of a nearby bush breaks her from her thoughts. She approaches with a perplexed expression, “who’s there?” No answer, instead, the bushes rustle once more in response. Kitana took another step closer, cautious and ready, her heart slightly racing with impending adrenaline. To her surprise, a small fluffy feline emerged from the shrubbery, tilting its head in her direction.

“Mreow,” you purred, a simple human translation to a hello. She lowered her stance, relaxing at the sight of you, “hello little one,” she cooed. You chirped in response, trotting over to rub against her legs, looking up with your big adorable eyes. She giggled, there is simply no resisting the pleading gaze of a friendly feline. As if she read your mind, she gingerly scooped you up into her arms, cradling you close to her chest. While doing so, her fingers grazed the hem of your collar, causing her to retract for a moment in surprise. When looking closer, the collar read ‘Sindel’ in a intricate cursive engraving. She gently traced the letters with her fingers, as if committing it to memory. Her eyes welled with tears, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She sniffled, nuzzling her face into your fur with a sigh, “I miss you, mother.”

Sindel

To be reunited with her husband was one thing, but to be inside his body as a spirit was another. Death wasn’t at all as expected, she felt the cold sensation and loss of feeling that came with it, but did not go to some whimsical after life. Considering the death of the forest of souls, there was no going there. A shame, really, she wanted to experience it for herself. But, considering she was with her husband once more, it felt safer than the forest.

The best she could describe it would be, feeling whole again, realizing a part of her that she was missing. She felt a strange connection between her and the other spirits there, as if a cord interlocked them at the core. Every feeling, every thought, it was all shared between them as a collective. Negativity didn’t exist, all the fear and longing she once felt, was gone now.

There was a place where everyone was a physical, walking around in a blank plane of white and fog. This is where she could be with her husband, reunited once again in pure bliss. The area was endless, even if you chose to walk continuously, you would never reach an end.

Sindel sat near the edge of the group, waiting for her husband to return once again. She looked off into the endless pool of white, deep in thought. She could see the memories of her past life, memories of her children, husband, and the kingdom. All the memories skimming over her brain like a slide show, all the way up to her untimely death. Reaching down, she gingerly caressed the wound where the katana had struck and killed her. She could remember the look of dread and sorrow on her daughter’s face, but proud was the only thing she could feel. Sindel could see the progress Mileena and Kitana have made through Jared’s eyes, and regardless if she could tell them or not, she was beyond overjoyed.

A sudden presence beside her lured her out of her trance. When she looked, she was surprised to see you, the spirit of a small house cat. It was unusual to see animals here, but never has it been unwelcome. Perhaps the others have not noticed you, as usually they would flock to an animal newcomer. She smiled down at you, admiring the beauty of your coat while you groom your paw in silence. You turned your head in response, looking up at her with one big eye, the other closed off as a token of your past life. You could sense that she was waiting, and decided to keep her company. You stood, stretching your back before trotting over to her. You didn’t hesitate, making yourself right at home on Sindel’s lap. There was no protest from her, instead, she placed a gentle hand on your back and stroked her fingers through your fur. It had been quite some time since you had been pet, your past life lacking the love and care you craved so much. If only Sindel had found you when you both were alive, she would surely take you in as her own. She scratched the top of your head, eliciting a soft purr of satisfaction from you. Sindel continued to wait for her husband, watching memories flow by, but this time with a new friend.

Li Mei

Li Mei practically watched Sindel’s daughters grow up from small infants to young women. She nearly felt her eyes well with tears, watching the coronation of Mileena through blurred eyes. Even if she gained the role through circumstance, she was still unbelievable proud.

It was unfortunate, downright depressing, losing the best friend she had just got back. After years of pleading with Sindel, working so hard to regain her trust after Jared’s passing, she had finally rebuilt the bond once broken. Only for the untimely death of her best friend, regaining her best friend’s husband in her place. Although, it was a relief to learn from Jared that she had safe passage to an afterlife of some sort. And, she was happy to hear that they were reunited, even if it was through failed dark magic.

After her promotion for her heroic acts, she felt alone and home sick. She felt wrong in the place as chief of imperial police, missing the streets of Sun Do where she kept peace for so many years. Now, she sat in her office as a newly reinstated first constable, mindlessly dragging the pen across parchment. She had taken up journaling, a simple way to vent out the everyday frustrations of police work, and to pass time on off days where crime was minimal. Paperwork from the days criminals had stacked neatly in the corner of the desk, a small lamp hovered over the various journal papers. She sighed, setting the pen down and leaning back in her seat. Stretching her back with a satisfying pop before making way to the exit of her office.

A sudden shrill shriek startled Li Mei, nearly sounding like a child screaming for help. At this time of night? She swiftly ran to a nearby alleyway where she was surprised to see the source of the sound was a cat fight between strays. One was much larger, covered in fluffy orange fur, and the other a small and scrawny brown tabby. The smaller one let out a meek hiss, while the larger one raised a paw ready to strike. You bolted behind Li Mei’s leg, having accidentally stumbled into the territory of a large Tom cat. He was aggressive, fiercely defending his home and potential breeding area, to which you wanted no part of and simply made your way here by curiosity alone. As the Tom cat made an attempt to run towards you, Li Mei stomped her foot, “hey! Quit the scuffle.” The Tom cat hesitated at first, giving you one last hiss before running back through the alley where it came from. Li Mei brought her attention to the small tabby hidden behind her, lowering to crouch beside you, “quite the predicament you got yourself into hm?” She brought her hand to your eye level, to which you gave it a gentle sniff. Paper, ink, and a small amount of roast lingered on her skin, remnants of her lunch eliciting a heavy pang in your stomach. “Are you hungry?” She frowned, studying the current state of your boney ribs and dirtied fur. You meowed, your eyes large in a pitiful beg for a scrap of satiation. She smiled, scooping you up in her arms, “let’s get some dinner in you little one,” walking back into the headquarters. She felt a strange fabric on your neck, the dirt covering making it nearly impossible to notice at first. Attached to it, was a small metal heart, rusted and covered in mud. Upon wiping it with her thumb, the words on it read “umgadi”. She giggled, “my past comes back to me.” From then on, you made several returns to her for food and protection, until eventually, you were adopted by her with open arms.

Tanya

When she wasn’t with Mileena, majority of her time was occupied by the duties of leader of the Umgadi. Being at such a high rank, and rebuilding the Umgadi from the ground up to be reformed from a few rotten apples, had kept her a very busy woman. Tanya made sure to thoroughly wring out every pupil to keep out the rats who conspire against both the Umgadi principles, and the kingdom itself.

Tanya stride down the hallways of the palace, her heels clicking against the pristine floors of the Umgadi barracks. She held an air of confidence, her head held high and eyes straight ahead. She smiled as the gentle snores of her sisters reached her ears, the peaceful sound of slumber fading slightly with every step. She had an objective in mind, her feet carrying her to the palace gardens where her lover waits.

Upon arriving, just at the entrance, two small cats walked side by side with their tails wrapped over each other. They seemed so peaceful, enjoying each other’s company under the starlit sky. She hadn’t meant to intrude, but once noticed by the two felines, one had bolted into a nearby hedge. The one remaining, a small calico, had looked at her with curiosity. You did not run, instead, you sat right where you were, to convey that you were not afraid. Tanya smiled, lowering herself to a crouch and reaching a hand in your direction, “it’s alright, I won’t harm you.” You sniffed the air, catching a whiff of her scent, the smell akin to a sunlit field of flowers with a hint of honey. You slowly approached, your neck elongated to sniff her outstretched hand without risking too much. She smiled, tilting her head with curiosity, “what’s your name, little one?” You lifted your head, just enough for her to catch a glimpse of a name on your collar. It read, “Mileena”. She smirked at the engraving, “what a beautiful name.”

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ananiel · 3 months

Text

It's beautiful when sun falls in love with the moon, or when peace falls in love with war.

But is it all love is about? Is it love only when the opposites attract?

What if instead of peace, chaos falls in love with war? What if chaos loves war for what he is and not for what he could be?

War wasn't known for being someone that enjoyed blood that enjoyed to kill. Not at all.

War was like a leech, he stuck to people he viewed weak enough to fall for his sweet words that hide malice.

He Will manipulate them in into being mindless puppets that won't even realized they were played untill it is too late. His true name, war, was hidden, and instead people called him, peace, hope

Chaos was a beautifull woman that seemingly has eyes and ears everywhere. She knew that he was War and not peace. She knew his true nature, and even had proof. No one knows how she got it but alas, she did.

Chaos didn't hide her title, didn't try to hide her malice and didn't put a fake smile so that people would call her harmony

She walked proundly, her clothes made of lies and anguish followed behind her

Chaos only wanted to play with him, to use him, but War wanted the same

They started as a game, as a want to use eachother

But at the end of the night when they hold eachother at night, no words spoken between them, both knowing that their relationship was more then what they meant for it to be. And that's why Chaos pulls away from War, pulls away from what they could posibily have togheter

Chaos saw this as a weakness and was disgusted by it. War felt what most fight for, and grew obsessed with this feeling

After all, there is chaos without war, but there isn't war without chaos.

Chaos can live without him, but he can't leave without her.

He went insane trying to look for her, and when he did find her...

... Years went by and slowly, people forgot about the existance of a Chaos, as she was hidden in between his hold, unable to escape

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itjazzbicch · 4 months

Text

Never Happened

Pairing: MKX Erron Black x Reader

First time writing for Erron so I hope I did well! (I'm obsessed with MKX Erron so here we are lol)

Summary: Faking their death, the reader had been in hiding for a long time, only returning to Outworld because of the war between Kotal and Mileena, her motives a mystery to an old friend who discovers her and they both agree that nothing ever happened...

Warnings: Swearing, some flirting, hinted that they used to have an intimate relationship

Word Count: 0.7k

There was inevitably going to be a wild turn of events given Mileena and Kotal were waging war over Outworlds' thrown and what exactly was that wild turn of events?

Me.

I had to stay hidden for one more night, in an untouched forest. Given the creatures that called this forest their home, it made for a good hideout if you had the survival skills that were necessary, which I did.

Everything was going according to plan. All that was left was to weather through the night, till a specific piece of my past came back for me.

Hearing some leaves crunch, I had high ground in a tree. In the darkness, I couldn't make out who it was, but I found it strange that they made it to exactly where I had been.

It was as if we were reading each other's minds, making our presences known as I pulled out my dagger, blocking a bullet, the gun that went off giving away their identity.

"Well shit," Erron huffed at me, finding my eyes in the moonlight under my hood, "It's a ghost."

"I figured you of all people could figure out I've been alive this whole time, cowboy." A long, long time ago, I faked my death in order flee Outworld. I had only returned because of this war Mileena and Kotal had caused, but I wasn't there to choose sides as Erron assumed:

"Mileena must be pullin' every card she's got, hu-"

"Who said that I was here to aid, Mileena?"

"What are you doing here then?"

Erron and I's past was complicated to say the least, but there was always this something between us. It'd been there since the day we met and with the look in his eyes, we could both feel that it was still there.

"So many questions," I huffed, not letting my motives out and teasing him, "Can't even say hi to an old first? Also, I'd appreciate an apology for trying to kill me just now."

"But I didn't," He chuckled, swirling his gun back into its holster, "And if I wanted to, I could've."

"Yeah, right," I laughed, recalling, "Remember the first time we met, and I kicked your ass?"

"As nice as it is to catch up and all," Stepping up to me, he was done playing games, direct and stern in his tone, "I'd like to know why someone who's supposed to be dead suddenly reappears when a war is breaking out."

"I'm not here for what you think I am, Erron," Staring deep into his eyes, I wasn't going to answer him; he didn't know my extensive past, thus why I was there, instead explaining to him, "I know that you're short on time and the story would be too long to tell. So, let's just pretend this didn't happen? Hm?"

"I don't think so," His fingertips were ready at his holster again; he must've been on edge, "I don't know what happened when you 'died' but I know this shit is way too coincidental."

"I see where you're coming from," Sighing deep, this was my one last effort to try and convince him before either fighting or retreating, my hand resting against his mask to pat his cheek, "But I swear to you, I am not your enemy."

The spot he had for me started to soften up, the emotion in my eyes showing I told no lies, longing to see his face, pinching his mask and whispering softly:

"It is nice to see you again, although it's not how I imagined."

"You owe me," Revealing his face, he hadn't changed a bit since the day I met him, smiling even though he was mean mugging me, his voice dying to a growl, "If anyone knows-"

"No one will, because this never happened, remember?"

Exchanging smirks, I had to giggle because it felt like old times again, hooking an arm around his neck for a soft hug, kissing his cheek and promising in my whisper:

"When the time's right, I'll tell you everything, but for now, this never happened."

"Alright," He mumbled, fixing his mask as I began to walk away, stopping at the slap I felt on my ass, quickly turning to look at him chucking, "What? Nothing happened."

Even I had to laugh, blowing a kiss before I disappeared into the night, "You haven't changed a bit, cowboy."

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x y/n #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat oneshot #erron black #erron black x reader #erron black x y/n #erron black imagine #erron black fluff #erron black angst #read and enjoy

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gaysindistress · 11 months

Text

When Night Comes - two

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: cursing, douchebag Peter Parker, drug use (taking an edible), drinking

word count: 4.3k

one | masterlist

a/n: spoiler alert: there’s a surprise coming in the next part

tag list: @cakesandtom @vickie5446 @buckybarnessimpp @hidden-treasures21 @unaxv

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

The lowkey kickback she was promised is anything but that. Cars line the already crowded and narrow street while people mill around and stream out of the towering house. Music blasts throughout the house and onto the street, no doubt upsetting neighbors and warranting noise complaints; however the party goers and the homeowner don’t seem to care. Their uber pulls up to the address and practically dumps them and speeds off, probably wanting to avoid any kind of problem that the party might bring.

Jessica wraps her thin black cardigan around her body, “Let’s go inside. It’s too damn cold out here.”

Sunny rolls her eyes, following the girl up the steps, “I imagine wearing a bra for a shirt would be very cold.”

“Oh shut up. I look hot even if I am freezing to death.”

Her short brown skirt hikes as she climbs the stairs to the point that Sunny has to reach out and tug it down from behind. Her goal is to entice one man and one man only, however he has yet to be seen as they push past drunk and high people. A familiar blonde spots them as they make their way towards the kitchen.

“Jessica you came!” Yelena shouts over the loud music and people’s conversations, a smile plastered across her face, “And you brought a friend.”

“Yelena this is Sunny,” Jessica beams, pointing between the two women,” Sunny is this Yelena, the friend that’s throwing this party.”

Sunny extends out her hand to shake Yelena’s but she’s pulled into a tight hug with Yelena whispering in her ear, “Jessica’s situationship is here but he brought another girl just FYI.”

“Shit,” she pulls back and offers Jessica a fake smile who is staring off past them. Sunny follows her stare and spots the very thing she’d hoped to avoid until later; the man in question making out with another girl.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” she shrieks, marching towards them. Neither of them are fast enough to catch the angry brunette who practically rips the woman off of him.

“Seriously? You go on and on about loyalty and then you fucking show up with another girl? What the fuck are you on because you’re clearly not thinking right,” screaming at the couple, Jessica’s beyond pissed as she stares daggers at them.

“Jessica, oh hey I didn’t know you were going to be here,” the man tries to play off the situation, running a hand casually through his hair to hide the evidence.

“Bull fucking shit, I was the one who invited you and you have the audacity to show up with some other girl? Where do you get off?”

“Babe it’s not that serious, I swear,” the lies slip so easily through his teeth, “You know you’re the only girl for me.”

As he speaks, what looks like a fang flashes ever so slightly but disappears when he shifts his gaze to Yelena and Sunny behind her. He tries to grab her hands to calm her down but she’s quick to step back from him, “I might not be the smartest but I’m definitely not that fucking stupid that I’d actually believe anything you said. Get fucked Peter Parker.”

Yelena stifles a laugh with a cough and leans over to Sunny, “How much you wanna bet he’s going to follow her around all night?”

“I’ll do ya one better; she’s going to punch him.”

“Deal,” she shakes Sunny’s hand as Jessica storms over to them with a rather pissed off Peter in tow.

“Jessica just stop,” his demeanor has shifted to a much darker one, “You know that we aren’t exclusive so you can’t get mad if I date other people. You’re still my number one girl.”

“Oh I’m sorry I don’t think I remember having that conversation. That must have been another one of your girlfriends. Just leave me alone Peter. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

His hand darts out and grips her wrist harshly as a cloud of anger takes over his already inky eyes, “That’s enough. Come on, don’t be like that.”

“Hold up, take your hands off of her and take a step back Parker,” Yelena demands in a stern tone as she steps up to Jessica’s side, “She said she didn’t want anything to do with you so back off.”

“Stay out of this Yelena, this has nothing to do with you.”

“It does when you’re at my party, let her go or I’ll make you,” she warns.

“And what are you going to do?”

“It’s not her you should be worried about,” the honey voice calls over the noise and tenses every fiber in Sunny’s body. She doesn’t dare to turn around or even move to confirm if it’s him. The almost spicy smell of his leathery sandalwood cologne is enough to confirm that Bucky is coming up beside her.

“Let her go and you won’t lose your hand,” his voice is level and calm even though there is chaos descending around them. His brown leather jacket clad arm brushes against hers, sending shocks through her knit long sleeve dress.

Peter dramatically drops her wrist, making a scene of the action and his frustration as every disgruntled frat boy would. He mumbles something under his breath about how fucking ridiculous this all is but doesn’t dare repeat it when Bucky gives him a warning side eye. Jessica curls into Sunny’s side while Bucky and Yelena create a protective wall between her and Peter. When he’s satisfied with the distance between them, Bucky turns to look at them, “Jessica, right? Are you okay?”

She nods quickly, not really wanting to speak.

“It’s good to see you, Doll. How are you?” The sudden shift confuses the shit out of her.

“What are you doing here?”

Yelena takes her cue to leave and nods at Bucky as she takes Jessica from her arms, leading her away from the couple and to a calmer place. He laughs at Sunny’s question, “This is my house.”

“Excuse me?” “Well one of my houses. Yelena crashes here from time to time and uses it to throw parties when she’s in town,” He explains, blue eyes glistening in the LED lights as he stares down at her.

“And you’re okay with her trashing your house whenever she wants?” She asks while she stumbles forward from the force of someone accidentally shoving her from behind.

Bucky is quick to catch her, hands steadying her by her shoulders, “Easy there tiger. Can’t have you falling for me just yet.”

She scoffs lightly and shakes his hands off, “I was pushed.”

“By destiny into my arms.”

“No by a drunk asshole into another asshole.”

Once again he lets out another damn addicting laugh, slinging an arm over her shoulder and leads her away from the crowd. The weight of his arm is nice, comforting even as they weave their way through people to the backyard. Maybe it’s how amazing his cologne smells or how she can feel the cold of his body through the thin white t-shirt he’s wearing under his jacket. The edible she took before they left Jessica’s apartment definitely plays a part in how she leans into his embrace and doesn’t immediately pull away when they step out into the cold nighttime air.

“Do you have an answer?” The question pulls her away from her thoughts. Clearing her throat, she steps out from under his arm and wraps her own around her, mulling over what he asked her.

“Answer to what?”

“I asked if I could make it up to you with dinner after Scott was rude. You never gave me an answer.”

“Oh,” she looks down to her scoffed docs for a few moments before making eye contact with him, “No.”

“No?”

“Yeah, no I won’t go to dinner with you,” she revels in the way confusion eats away at his beautiful features.

“Fair enough. How about I pay for dinner for you and Jessica?” a soft smirk dismisses the confusion and she has to look away before heat flushes her face.

“No.”

“Catering for lunch one day?”

“No.”

“Coffee every morning for a month?” “Jesus no.”

“Flowers?” He tries one last time even though he knows she’s just going to shoot it down. The way she’s struggling under his gaze is worth more than any material thing to him; he’s getting under her skin in the most delicious way possible.

“Why do you have to make it up? Just leave it, that’s what other people do.”

“Well I’m not like other people. Manners aren’t dead and it’s only fair I reconcile with the beautiful woman who didn’t call the police on us when she should have.”

The view of her docs is no longer interesting and the city lights are too bright to see the stars so her only option is to look at him with that flirtatious smirk and smooth words. Her head body starts to feel weightless as the THC comes into full force and it’s a struggle to form sentences that aren’t littered with giggles, “You think I’m beautiful? Oh… shit that’s not what I meant to say. What I meant is just leave it alone. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

His superstar Adidas barely make any noise against the stone pavers as he slowly saunters towards her.

“I think you did mean that first part,” his right hand finds her chin and tilts it so she’s eye to eye with him, “And to answer your question, I do think you’re beautiful. You are, by far, the most stunning woman I have ever met and I would love the chance to get to know you better if you’d stop being so obstinate.”

Maybe it’s the THC or the tornado his touch has thrown her mind into but she swears she can’t feel any heat coming from him as he gently grips her chin.

“Maybe learn to take no for an answer,” her eyes flicker down to his lips briefly, “Besides it’s unprofessional.”

“We’re two consenting adults,” he leans even closer, his nose brushing against hers as he speaks, “It’s only unprofessional if you let it distract you.”

“Hey Sunny… Oh fuck,” Yelena shrinks back into the house when she spots the two of them wrapped up in their own bubble of sexual tension. Bucky chuckles with mild annoyance at being interrupted but steps back and gives her space to breathe again all the same.

Embarrassment fills Sunny’s body as she rubs her arms to regain control of her breathing again,“What’s up Yelena?”

“Uh Jess wants to leave. She’s a mess about the whole Peter thing.”

“Yeah, okay let her know we can leave. Can you have her call an uber?” she attempts to brush past Bucky but his arm pulls her into his side just like before.

“Don’t be silly, I’ll drive you guys home.”

“We can take an uber, it’s not a big deal.”

“Doll let me take care of you,” the not so subtle meaning freezes any protests and he smirks at her before heading back into the den of sweat and alcohol to find the damsel in distress. Sounds of sobbing and sniffing come from the kitchen, letting them know she’s been hiding out there.

“Oh Sunny,” she launches herself at Sunny, tears having ruined her makeup, “I feel so fucking stupid, oh my god.”

“Come on, let’s get you girls home,” Bucky mumms as he lets go of Sunny to pull her under his arm. Still being a gentleman, he offers his other arm to Sunny so she doesn’t get lost and she does take it even though she’ll try to deny it later on. He won’t let her live down how tightly she’s gripping his arm or how she follows after him like a puppy as they zigzag their way to the front door. Yelena isn’t in tow, saying something about having to make sure the party doesn’t end up a complete failure and slipping her number into Sunny’s hand. The action goes unnoticed by Bucky as he’s too focused on Jessica and keeping her shielded from other party goers.

Slowly climbing down the stairs, he digs into his jean pocket to find his keys. A blacked out Mercedes AMG G63 a little ways down the crowded street lights up when he pushes the fob. A part of her is impressed with his choice in car but the other part is more concerned about why he would leave such a nice car out in the open where it could easily get broken into or stolen. Then again with what she knows about him and his work, he has more than enough money to replace it if anything were to happen to it.

Jessica immediately clamors into the front seat, leaving Sunny to navigate her own way into the backseat. He opens the door for both women but abandons Jessica to gently lift Sunny into the vehicle. “I can do it myself,” she protests, trying to swat at his hands on her hips.

“I’m sure you could sober,” he teases her as he clips the seat belt over her and closes the door.

“Dick,” she mumbles under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What was that?” his blue eyes glitter with mischief in the rear view mirror as he pulls away from the curb.

“I said you’re a dick.”

“Be nice to him! He’s being such a gentleman and taking us home,” Jessica interjects, placing her hand on his arm in a very flirtatious way. Of course she decides now is the time to try her hand at flirting with the hottest man alive according to the teachers at their work.

Knowing exactly what she’s doing, he removes her hand and puts it back on her lap, “Sunny means no harm but I appreciate you standing up for me.”

The rejection doesn’t sit super well with Jessica, the hurt from earlier still lingering and she starts to complain about Peter all over again. She throws in unnecessarily details about the pictures she sent him, the sets she bought for him, and all of the things he wanted to try. At some point, Sunny completely dozes off and leaves Bucky to fend for himself as he grows increasingly more uncomfortable with the amount of information she’s rattling off.

She jolts awake when the car parks and she rubs at her eyes when she notices that they’re parked in the garage of Jessica’s apartment complex. Jessica is still rambling on about Peter as she had been for the last twenty minutes or so and she can tell by the bored look on Bucky’s face he mentally checked out at about the same time. He throws out the occasional hum and ‘yeah’ while he helps Sunny out of the car and into the elevator that leads up to the apartments.

She’s still complaining about how Peter could never make her finish while she unlocks her apartment door and lets him set Sunny down on the couch. She waltzes off to her room, leaving a very high Sunny smiling like an idiot at Bucky.

“Where’s your phone?” he asks, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Sunny hands him her purse, mumbling incoherently about how it’s inside.

Shaking his head at her state, he digs out her phone and has her unlock it. She tries to watch him through her lashes to see what he’s doing.

“I put my number in so if you need anything, call me,” he answers her unasked question and hands her back her phone, “I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay Doll?”

She blankly stares at him, not quite catching onto the fact that he asked her a question. Albeit delayed, she nods in understanding, earning herself a reward in the form of his laughter and a feather light kiss to her hairline.

“I’m leaving Jessica. Lock your doors please,” he yells to the other woman and winks at Sunny before closing the door behind himself.

“Girl please tell me that you’re going to lock that man down. He’s so into you, it’s so obvious.”

“What?” Sunny drops her head back against the couch to lazily look at Jessica.

“Are you serious? He wanted nothing to do with me and I was flirting hard. He only has eyes for you.”

“No, no, no,” she waves hand to dismiss the imaginary image of them together, “He’s just a flirt, he acts like that with everyone.”

Jessica locks her door as he had asked and spins to face her very clearly out of it friend, “Sunny, be so fucking for real right now. I bet if you called him right now, he would be knocking on the door in seconds.”

“Yeah because he’s still in the building. Jess I really don’t want to debate whether or not he’s into me. I’d rather go to sleep and argue with you tomorrow.”

“Fine,” she raises her hands in defeat, “If you don’t call him or at least text him tomorrow to say thank you, I will steal your phone and do it for you.”

“Fine, whatever,” Sunny drags herself off of the couch and slowly walks to Jessica’s bedroom meanwhile the other woman is getting water for them to drink in the morning. They’ll no doubt have cotton mouth or a hangover or maybe both when they wake up. Sunny barely gets her boots off before sleep takes over and she passes out on the covers still fully clothed. Jessica chuckles to herself and gets ready for bed before trying her hardest to get Sunny under the covers.

“Night bitch.”

Sunday mornings with the girls consisted of waffles, fruit, and an endless supply of champagne or weed, it really depended on their mood. Given how shitty last night had been, it seemed like champagne would be the chosen remedy for Jessica’s broken heart and a joint would be the preventive medicine for Sunny’s ears. The sweet smell of sugar and syrup mixed with the earthy smell from her joint coated the air of Jessica's apartment, suffocating the smell of the burning waffles that she’d forgotten about during her endless rant about Peter.

“I seriously can’t believe that he would do that to me,” she sighed, staring absently at the kitchen floor with her drink in one hand and back to the smoking waffle iron.

Sunny gently pushed her aside by her hip to get the waffle out, “I mean….”

“I just need your ears, not your opinions,” she stops Sunny from saying anything that might upset her and continues, “I mean look at me; do I look stupid? Do I look like someone who just enjoys being fucked over? I’m getting really tired of his bullshit.”

Sunny just nods along, taking over the waffle station and filling the iron with batter. A plate full of waffles appears in front of Jessica and quickly snatches one off, taking small bites. After a few minutes of her not talking and the sounds of the iron dinging when the waffles are done, Sunny tries to speak again, “Are you done?” “Yes, obviously I’m done talking,” she sneers, chugging her half full cup and making another glass of champagne with a splash of orange juice.

“Well,” Sunny starts after taking a long drag from her joint, “he is the epitome of Chad, the worst frat boy archetype. You met him on Hinge so in the nicest possible way, what did you expect? At least with Tinder you know what you’re getting but with the other ones, it’s the damn Hunger Games and you offered yourself up as tribute pretty quickly with Peter.”

Even though she’s not looking, she can feel the daggers coming Jessica’s dark eyes but she doesn’t let up, “My advice; ghost him, block him, get so drunk you forget he exists, and find yourself someone new. He’s never going to be who you want and if you keep letting him back in, he’s going to keep treating you like a doormat and you, my goddess of a friend, deserve someone better.”

“Why can’t I just like girls like you? Men are so stupid,” she sighs more dramatically than humanly thought possible and drops her head onto Sunny’s shoulder.

“First off, that’s not how it works and second off, girls are just as bad as guys are.”

“Yeah but girls are so much prettier and they don’t stick their dicks in anything while walking.”

She chuckles, “Homegirl you clearly haven’t spent any real time around queer people. Douche bag transcends the social construct of gender. My last queer relationship ended because she tried to sleep with all of my friends while planning my proposal. Shitty people are going to do shitty things no matter what.”

“Touché,” Jessica lifts herself from Sunny’s shoulder, “Talking about your relationships, have you texted Mr. Sexy?”

Rolling her eyes, she unplugs the waffle iron and drops the batter bowl into the sink, joint still trapped between her fingers. Before she has to face the music of Jessica on a mission, she hops onto the counter and continues to smoke, “Nope.”

“Why not?” “I don’t want to?”

“I sense a question mark. You want to but your damned ego won’t let you,” Jessica declares, finger pointing at her in a very accusing manner.

“It’s not that,” Sunny leans back to snuff out her joint on an ashtray sitting on the counter behind her, “That’s not the only number I got last night.”

“Spill, right now.”

She vaguely gestures to the living room where her phone is at, “When I woke up, I had another number stuffed into my purse.”

Jessica stares at her with expecting eyes, “Who’s?” “Yelena.”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD! YELENA?” Jessica’s loud and very drunk voice bounces off the walls and bounces in their ears.

“Jesus quit screaming,” Sunny covers her ears and chides her friend. “You have to text her and Mr. Sexy.”

“What? No, I'm not doing that.”

“You kinda have to. You need to thank him and you need to flirt it up with Yelena. If you’re lucky, you might find yourself in both of their beds,” Jessica calls as she rushes to grab Sunny’s phone.

“Oh for the love of god,” she curses, sliding off the counter to catch her friend before she does anything stupid.

However she is too late; Jessica already has her phone unlocked and is rapidly typing away at the screen. There’s no use in trying to stop her, she’s surprisingly strong and fast when she’s drinking. On more than one occasion, Sunny has had to put an air tag on her or physically tie them together when they go out because Jessica will bolt the moment tequila touches her tongue.

“Hey there Stranger, thank you for being such a gentleman last night. Chivalry isn’t dead it seems,” the tipsy woman narrates as she types away Sunny’s soul to the devil.

“I don’t sound or text like that.”

“I know. You’re so boring and weird. You call people when they text you. That’s the move of a psychopath,” she pauses her betrayal to tease Sunny, “‘It's too bad I had to leave, we didn't have time to make out’ and send.”

“Oh my god,” Sunny laughs in half disbelief and annoyance. Of course Jessica would pick the most out of pocket shit to flirt with Yelena on her behalf.

“I’ll have my assistant send over my invoice when you and yelena go out,” she blows a fake kiss and plops down on the couch, Sunny not far behind.

“Can I have my phone back?”

“Hmmm let me think….. No I’ll be sending your texts for today, ya know to keep the balls rolling,” she retorts.

The phone in her hand vibrates awake, alerting them that someone has responded to Jessica’s devious messages.

“And we have our first answer,” she reads the message to herself before a wide grin stretches across her face, “To tell you or to not tell you, now that is the question.”

“For the love of god just tell me, what did they say?”

“It really is a shame we didn’t get to make out, dinner friday and we can try again?” Jessica reads out but her grin drops just as quickly as it appeared.

“What? What is that look for?” Sunny sits up from her slouched position on the couch.

Jessica laughs nervously, “Okay so don’t be mad. Be so chill about this.”

“What did you do?”

“I may or may not have accidentally switched the texts around.”

Hands slapping against her face, Sunny drags them down in disbelief as she falls back against the couch, “Please tell you’re fucking joking.”

Jessica smacks her lips and shrugs, “Well on the bright side, you now have a date with Bucky so there’s that.”

“Did you text back yes?”

“Obvi,” Jessica starts typing away again, completely ignoring the girl to her side who is going through an emotional crisis over this, “So now you’ll have two dates and a better chance at getting laid.”

The groan that leaves Sunny is unnatural, bordering the sounds that a demon would make but alas there is no demon and it’s just the deep anguish that she’s feeling reaching the surface. Her joint from earlier is doing little to ease her misery and the giggles that leave Jessica’s mouth are fuel to the fire. She has no idea what her friend is saying and whether or not it’s going to get her into trouble come Friday. Knowing Jessica, she’s flirting which only means that Sunny is going to have a lovely time the next time she sees Bucky.

“Could you not flirt with him? I really don’t want to keep it going when I go home.” “Oh my god get over yourself. I’m helping you here, you’re terrible at flirting.”

“Whatever,” she mumbles, reaching for the TV remote to turn on some stupid show to distract her. If she can’t control what Jessica is doing, she can at least control what show they’re watching.

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skippyv20 · 10 months

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A picture & a thousand words.

Hi Skippy & Friends-Pilgrim here not wanting to preach to the choir but I am just amazed people still wear their rose-tinted glasses regarding the Harkle’s claim they have two kids. It’s understandable how much people love the idea of children arriving, making it hard to accept that con artists play on those emotions. After so much “fakency” from a narc/grifter who will do anything…anything…to get her way, this is my attempt to regurgitate their deceptive behavior once again for clarity for those still questioning. For years, those of us here have been carefully observing, discussing and fact checking. As the old saying goes, “A picture is worth a thousand words.” That is why I share my efforts in art class sparing us of so many words over the falls.

We knew she was trouble when she arrived on the royal stage but she stepped up her con game on Eugenie’s wedding day, Oct 12, 2018. To steal the spotlight, Megnuts unbuttoned her coat (big white buttons on navy no less) just enough while looking ecstatic…the press bit and she got the headlines announcing she was pregnant. The York’s were furious with this ploy on their special day. Megnut could have picked any date to start this baby ball rolling but couldn’t resist doing it standing on the steps next to HMTQ with worldwide press feeding her headline/press addiction.

For the next 7+ months she paraded around holding her stomach, never letting anyone forget the storyline she was curating. She was terrible at using the moon bump apparatus: making it too big or small for her timeline-sometimes all on the same day; too square; too mushy; falling down to her knees one time; so loose it slid side to side when she walked, and it even made weird belches when she crouched down and then popped up releasing the air. Can you imagine standing next to her with all of this going on? Don’t forget she loved to flick her coats for the cameras to show off her creation of the day! She went to an event, supposedly 8.5 months pregnant, wearing high heels, no swelling in her feet or legs, able to squat down, crushing her stomach while laying flowers on the memorial and then popping up as if she was a cheerleader!

She flew to a country where there was Zika while supposedly pregnant after being told not to go. She flew to NYC for her obnoxiously expensive, talked about, fake baby shower at 7.5 months. On arrival at the hotel, she got out of a car so huge she almost lifted off the ground like a balloon and then in photos taken inside the most expensive suite in the city, she is seen looking normal, jammed on a coach with others…hmmm…what were her famous guests thinking? They were probably not happy being complicit with her schemes. One night she even went “out on the town” NOT wearing her moon bump, looking right past the press, smiling on the arm of Markus Anderson.

The insane lies about the night she gave birth just got bigger and better described by Harry in their Netflix show. The hospital Megnut said she gave birth in, told the press they had not been there that night. The MD she said delivered Farchie denied her as a patient and was even out of town that night. There was no official royal announcement signed by attending doctors, just something she printed up. That day, Harry talked to the press at the stable with horses whinnying, saying something about how much the kid had changed a lot in 2 weeks.

No one was allowed to help her care for a new infant, kept hidden in a private baby’s room she and Dorita guarded. Hired staff who tried to do their job, left or were fired within days. She claimed mega stars dropped by Frogmore Cottage to visit, bringing baby gifts but they usually came forward saying “not true” or it was easy enough to verify where they actually were by reading the news. They had to produce an infant for the press and orchestrated a photo op/introduction at the palace. Like a set for a TV show, she strutted out in heels, wearing a huge moon bump, strung up so high in an odd position, as if this was her post-birth body…once again totally clueless. If you watch the video of this highly orchestrated performance on mute, their body language screams lying. After carefully holding a motionless “infant” Harry, all of a sudden, as if practiced and on cue, moves his left hand to the upper chest area and starts pressing down hard with his thumb, to the point it turned white! That would make any little baby squirm with a startled wail but nothing happened.

It turns out that is the location in “reborn” dolls for the button that starts the battery-operated movements. As usual, this duo flunked baby doll mechanics. You can go to sites for these amazing dolls, to see just how it all works. The artists who paint them make beautiful babies that look life-like in every conceivable combination. At this event, the press was cordoned off, far back in a huge empty hall and questions were kept to a minimum. Megnut looked flustered it didn’t work, and quickly ended the session, pulling Harry to turn around and leave mid-sentence. It is all there to study lasting about 3 minutes. Fascinating how calculated her facial expressions, hair flicking and nervous laughter was.

Megnut is obsessed with Harry’s brother and sister-in-law. While at their house, she was even caught taking photos of Prince George by Catherine who found them in another room. The reason they named their invisible son Archie is because that was the code name for Prince George used by his guards which got out when the youngster innocently told a neighbor what they call him. Megnut will steal anything to use for her own good which is typical narcissist behavior. She has been diagnosed by some medical press as a malignant narcissist.

The fake baptism on July 6th, was a day filled with huge mistakes including the missing clergy. The photoshopped images that were splashed worldwide were massively manipulated. There are computer programs that show where lines have been changed, including items in the room. People in the photo were all plugged into position out of proportion…too much to mention here but it was very analyzed and discussed. We did get a picture of a baby’s bare feet with Diana’s favorite flowers at one point.

At a polo match that Harry was playing in that summer, Megnut was supposed to stay home. She heard that one of Harry’s old flames was in attendance and drove herself there wearing a huge dark green tent dress. She produced and held, for all to see, a doll that never moved or cried for hours, with its face pressed against her chest in sweltering temps. She never used a stroller or sat in the car; did not have a hat or baby bag with needed items; did not give it formula or change a diaper or let anyone else touch it, parading up and down the sidelines trying to act like she was a natural mother. Instead, the faces of those near her show utter disbelief.

She flew solo to NYC to watch the United States Tennis Open which is held in early Sept…leaving her invisible 4-month-old infant at home that she claimed she was breast feeding. In all of the photos of her watching Serena Williams in the family seats…she did not look like a worried mother separated while expressing milk to take back. What we did observe were her raw, red knees and her button-up denim dress as she flashed Serena’s husband while seated. She looked very “dusty”, acting manic, talking to no one while watching the match. The William’s family ignored her after begging her to not attend, possibly causing bad luck for Serena, who did lose again.

This just takes us up to the 1st 4 months of their lies with Farchie! There was this whole unveiling of Archie in Africa with Desmond Tutu, which was like a United Nations event, using a darling baby actor it seems. The invisible child was seen once on Vancouver Island with her on a walk on a wooded path with a dog and guards. The doll was dangling from a harness like Captain Ahab on the whale Moby Dick. At Perry’s house in LA and then in Montecito strange fuzzy photo-chopped images that didn’t look like the same child were offered up to the press now and then.

The second fake birth story includes doctors she claimed to use in Santa Barbara who actually shut down their well-known clinic within weeks of her statement. Like before there was no official birth certificate. Again, for a name, they stole another family member’s nickname-this time the Queen’s, calling her Lilibet which shocked the world with its contempt. A very edited family holiday card was presented using imagery patched together like a quilt. This modus operandi continues.

Royal offspring must be born of the body with official doctors attending. It seems the royal family has put “extensions on their blinders” hoping this mess will just go away. Perhaps now they feel they have distanced themselves enough and like Pontius Pilate, KCIII has washed his hands of this dilemma. Unfortunately, the public likes honesty in their leaders. The truth will out and there will be hell to pay.

Thank you Pilgrim! Excellent post….you hit every mark!!!!!❤️

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dairy-farmer · 7 months

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A little angsty this one ;) but the suffering is oh so good.

Dick had been hiding his attraction for Tim for years before Dick forcibly took Robin away from from him. Dick regrets it desperately more and more over time. It’s not just that Tim is Bruce’s greatest successor or he was right and brought Bruce home. It’s that Jason didn’t hesitate to pull Tim under his protective wing when he was forced out of the mansion. Jason believed him, became Tim’s partner, his equal in all ways. Jason had never hidden his feelings for Tim, but now Tim was looking back. Dick tried to apologise but their relationship was never the same, Tim wouldn’t lean into his lingering hugs or kiss his cheek anymore. It finally broke Dick when they got engaged, and everyone congratulated them! Even BRUCE was happy for them! All these years Dick had been holding himself back because he was sure their relationship had to be secret and Jason hadn’t even considered hiding how much he loved him. Wanted Tim as his husband and everyone to know it. Dick never recovered.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!👀👀👀👀!!!!

dick views his attraction and his inability to ignore the...the feelings that swarm him about tim. there are so many reasons dick shouldn't and couldn't allow himself to feel things for tim.

tim is young, just a child. and dick is so...so sick for lusting after a child.

tim is his brother, a person who puts so much trust and faith into him. who feels safe and secure with him and how would tim react...how would he feel knowing dick sometimes lies awake at night thinking about how his soft body feels like in his hands.

dick can't like tim. not in that way. because tim is young, because tim is his brother, because bruce would be furious if he ever knew, because dick's friends and all the people who respected him would be disgusted if they knew.

dick knows he desires tim, wants him. he knows that tim has him on a pedestal and if dick...if dick just hinted at the desire tim would likely fall into his arms without hesitation but...but dick can't stomach the thought of all the loss he'd face if he chose tim. if he chose happiness.

people would look at him different. they'd treat him differently once knowing about his shameful attraction for his little brother. not just people he knew would know it. strangers as well. dick wouldn't put it beneath vicki vale to write a long article about the "incest at wayne manor!"

as much as dick may like tim...

as much as he may like tim's sweet smiles and voice, the way his hands feel when they stroke dick's head and comfort him.

dick can't risk it.

he just can't. so he keeps quiet. for years. and when things get difficult rather than support or back tim up...he doesn't. because of that lingering fear that someone might see something more to dick's affections if they noticed how he always sided with tim or always put him first.

and it comes back to bite him because it drives tim right to jason.

jason who dick was so convinced was faking the whole 'redemption arc' thing he had going. who dick was so convinced had suckered tim into believing him and gotten sympathy from him for it.

tim never told him directly that he and jason had started seeing each other. he'd needed to hear it secondhand.

tim's body never quite eased around him like it did before. dick tried to hard to get tim to understand and when that didn't work, to apologize.

but even then it didn't happen. tim didn't sweetly giggle at his jokes, look at him like he hung the stars, cling to every bit of his undivided attenion. he didn't sweetly lift his cheek for dick to kiss or nuzzle dick's chest when he'd pull him in for a hug.

he pulled away from dick. stood stiffly in his arms. looked...looked uncomfortable when dick would sweetly kiss him and show him affection.

but then he'd melt in jason's arms. turn into a giggling schoolgirl with a crush when jason would rub prickly unshaved bear against his sweet cheeks.

the day tim and jason announce their engagement is the worst day of dick's life. it's made worse by all the calls of congratulations. the smile on bruce's face, the air of satisfaction around alfred. the way that all capes are acting like this is a good thing, a sweet thing.

as if dick hadn't loved tim from the start. for longer than jason had.

but jason is someone without shame and had never bothered hiding his interest, his attraction. even when he'd tried to kill tim he couldn't help but have been drawn to him.

it's not fair. it's not fair that dick needs to suffer when he'd done everything right. when he'd kept all the love in his heart hidden.

it's not fair.

it's just not fair.

#answered asks #asks #dicktim #jaytim

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bebeyeyo · 7 months

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see me like no other | sana & tzuyu (pt. 2 of cool with you)

genre: angst

pairing: sana x tzuyu

setting: highschool au

content warnings: you, the reader is dead, suicide, threats to do harm, manipulation, sana is toxic and a sociopath

song: cool with you by newjeans

chou tzuyu was an absolute mess.

she couldn’t sleep.

every time she closed her eyes she just saw you falling off the rooftop to your death. having so many nightmares.

she was traumatized to say the least.

and she couldn’t even tell anyone.

she couldn’t say the truth.

when the police arrived at the scene, her and sana were already down at the school entrance. more like sana rushing tzuyu down and out of the school so they weren’t caught.

more so sana wasn’t caught.

the older girl knew tzuyu so well. she knows tzuyu wouldn’t have been able to keep the secret hidden that she had murdered you.

so, she only had to do what she had to.

“if you say anything to anyone, you will end up like y/n.”

tzuyu was truly afraid of sana at this very moment, so she did what she was told.

she kept her mouth shut.

sana explained to the police in fake crocodile tears that you were on the roof, talking about how you didn’t want to live anymore.

unfortunately, her and tzuyu were too late before you fell to your death.

a few months have passed since that day, and tzuyu wasn’t close to even being okay.

tzuyu sits in her classes. she can barely focus. the chattering of classmates is drowned out by her thoughts.

all the while sana remained as if nothing had happened.

“are you doing okay?” sana asks.

tzuyu remained silent.

sana smiles and leans against the younger girl, before whispering in her ear, “don’t forget what i said.”

she was definitely crazy, tzuyu thought.

time felt like it was moving slow for the girl, and she just couldn’t get a good night’s rest.

her eyes dropping from sleep deprivation, only for them to snap awake whenever she saw your face.

it was worse when she saw you when she was awake.

tzuyu turns her head and she swears you’re standing right there at the doorway of the classroom.

looking at her with sadden eyes.

the guilt eats at tzuyu so much, though she had no fault in the matter. she didn’t know what sana’s intentions were.

maybe she wouldn’t ever know.

eating lunch, tzuyu saw you sitting next to her, with a sadden stare.

riding on the subway home from school, she sees you, sitting a few feet away.

while she’s in her room doing homework, you watch her through the mirror and when she sees you, tears leave her eyes whimpering and sobbing about how sorry she was.

kept saying how she should’ve helped you, how she shouldn’t have been so blind, how she shouldn’t have trusted sana in the first place.

the stupid police fell for sana’s act, and no justice was served for you.

tzuyu’s guilt she could no longer take as she lies awake crying every night.

so then, she did what felt right.

“minatozaki sana pushed l/n y/n off the roof.” tzuyu told the police anonymously.

this spreads around quickly as kids and adults were wondering who made the phone call to the police, and if sana was really the culprit.

tzuyu was already in deep fire along with sana after that phone call, and she had to avoid the older girl at all costs.

maybe, choosing the high road wouldn’t be so bad.

tzuyu cried as she looks down at the letter she wrote for her friends and family.

she couldn’t even live with herself anymore.

putting the letter down on the surface of the concrete, tzuyu stands where you last stood on the rooftop of the school.

“p-please forgive m-me.” she whispers.

she closed her eyes and stepped forward, falling and falling until everything turned black.

sana watched tzuyu fall off the ledge as the police were putting her in handcuffs with an expressionless face.

turns out sana was right; tzuyu would end up like you did.

#darlinggtwice #twice imagines #sana x tzuyu #twice sana #twice tzuyu #angst

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justporo · 7 months

Text

Scenes from a bathtub

A Night of Fake Smiles and Hidden Lies: Part 1

Author's Note: Here we are, I'm so excited to share the first chapter for this story. The part in which Tav and Astarion start getting ready, enjoying a nice soak in the tub - and some other stuff. Let me know what you think!

Song: Royals - Lorde

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav Rating: Explicit Warnings: Some light smut at the very end of the chapter

CHAPTER LIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

~~~

A few weeks had passed. The night of the ball had finally arrived.

Astarion had actually been excited ever since the invitation had been delivered. He really seemed eager to make it a night to remember for the both of you: so you had actually spent some more evenings waltzing around your space (also trying other dances) and Astarion had very cryptically promised you he’d take care of ‘wardrobe and grooming’. You dearly hoped he’d remember his promise about corsets and wouldn’t turn you into someone you wouldn’t recognise if you passed by a mirror.

It was still hours from then until the event started but Astarion had insisted on starting to get ready. You had looked at the clock and back to the vampire and back at the clock. Had it been only you, you’d probably only have run a bath half an hour before, then quickly dressed and done some basic makeup before arriving a little late. But as you told Astarion that he’d cocked an eyebrow and looked you up and down in such a judgmental way you’d first felt like a young girl getting scolded. And when he hadn’t stopped you’d gotten pissed at his pretentious behaviour. “My sweet sweet love, if you can’t even stand passive-aggressive stares for more than a few moments it’s going to be a very short evening. These people live off judging others and elevating their pitiful selves over you. And the trick is to just always be twice the bastard they are.” “Great, sounds like such a fun evening, Astarion.”

You had crossed your arms over your chest and had felt anxiety creeping up inside you. Already you had worried that you’d be awfully out of place at this event. But Astarion had grabbed your hands that you had firmly tugged away under your arms and placed them on your cheeks, covering yours with his own long fingers. “Don’t worry, my love, you’re fortunate enough to have a master of the art at your side to show you how it’s done”, he had said with a big smirk and given you a quick kiss. “And if that still doesn’t help just step on someone’s skirts or elbow them so they splash their drinks on somebody around and watch the chaos unfold. You wouldn’t believe how quickly these elitist people get physical if they feel their ‘honour’” – he dramatically air-quoted and rolled his eyes – “is at stake”, he had continued with an even bigger almost feral smirk when he’d noticed you were still tense. This – a good old brawl? You had seen and partaken in a fair share of those in your time as a Baldur’s Gate lowlife. You slowly had grinned back at your soulmate then: “No promises, I won’t do that anyway if these rich fuckers annoy me too much.” Astarion had thrown his head back and laughed: “Oh my lovely little anarchist.”

So now you were sitting in your big tub that was lowered in the stone floor of your bathroom.

The two of you loved spending almost whole nights just enjoying the warmth and comfort of a hot bath – talking, drinking wine, taking in the scents of exotic oils Astarion picked up from specialty stores, caressing and massaging each other; often times resulting in more passionate actions. This time the vampire had brought some ‘special’ stuff to really doll yourselves up for this big ball.

Currently, Astarion was sitting in between your legs, leaning back against your naked chest while you washed and detangled his curls and just enjoyed your care while breathing softly. Before, he had put some mud all over his face he claimed would “make his complexion glow even more”. The stuff indeed smelled nicely as it drifted into your nose while you massaged Astarion’s scalp carefully, but he still looked kind of ridiculous. Also you weren’t entirely convinced that this was how it worked for vampires.

Seldomly was the pale elf this relaxed. And this fact alone filled your heart with joy. You let your fingers move through his hair and softly massaged his neck and his ears as well which resulted in a soft, relaxed moan from him from time to time.

Astarion’s chest lifted in a particular deep breath, causing droplets of bathwater to run down his toned chest and the light from the candles you’d lit all over the room danced over his smooth skin. He really almost caused you to forget to breathe sometimes just by existing.

“This is heaven, my love. If this is what the afterlife is like I’ll happily perish right on the spot”, he sighed and let out a long breath. You smiled happily and really buried your fingertips in his curls once more causing the vampire to groan in pleasure and making his head loll from side to side.

With his eyes still closed he reached one arm slowly behind himself – obviously with the intention to reach your face. “Only thing missing now is a kiss from you, my sweet honey pie.”

“Sweet honey pie? What’s gotten into you?”

“Hmhm, can you blame me? Your fingers caressed me into oblivion, cherry muffin.” You scrunched up your nose and pinched the back of his neck. It seemed you really had worked common sense out of the man; he was talking mad.

“You know the implication it makes when you call me food related pet names, don’t you?”, you asked him, leaning close to one of his pointy ears. “Oh, very much so, even though I must inform you, that you taste neither off honey pie nor cherry muffins.”

Astarion started to stretch while speaking, tensing his muscles, reaching his arms even beyond you and yawning. The comparison to a cat was more than imminent. On their way back his hands found your head and stroked your hair despite the awkward angle.

“Aha, so what do I taste like to you, hm? Indulge me”, you requested and wrapped your arms around Astarion’s chest as he sidled up against you again. Your hands rested on each other on his stomach now, you leaned your chin on his shoulder. His arms were still stretched around his back to let his fingers wander through your hair.

“Well, when I first compared it to a good wine that was a very accurate description. But now, with some more, shall I say, expertise in your bouquet, I’d describe it like this: sometimes it’s like a wonderful red wine, full-bodied but with soft floral notes. But sometimes it’s more like delicious fruit covered in dark chocolate. It just… varies slightly: depending on what you eat, how you’ve been feeling, what time of month it is…” The last part surprised you: “You can taste… my cycle?” “Oh, not only that, but I can also smell it as well – I mean besides the obvious. You’d be surprised at what I can find out about you from taking a single nose full of your exquisite scent alone, my love.” You felt dumbfounded, he’d never mentioned that before. And you also didn’t need to see the smirk when he said that to know that it was there.

“Like?”, you simply asked, a bit embarrassed but also very much intrigued about this particular skill of his. Astarion didn’t like talking about the specifics of his condition very much so whenever he opened up about it you grasped the opportunity to learn more about it and him.

“Oh, for example, I can definitely always tell when you want me. And, if I dare say so, the intensity and frequency surprised even me, my wicked little siren”, Astarion explained, his tone deep and full of seduction. Your cheeks were burning, your whole neck and face actually. You softly slid down Astarion’s back and into the bathwater, desperately hoping for a sudden hole at the bottom of the tub that would hopefully swallow you whole.

The vampire had to grip the rim of the tub and straighten himself when you slithered down into the depths of the bathwater. You heard him laugh: “I can also most certainly tell whenever you get one of those full body blushes, my sweet.” He slowly moved to turn around to you, while you had sunk into the water, only your eyes and the top of your head still showing above the water level. Bubbles rose up while the last of your air left your nose and you looked at the vampire in embarrassment who simply looked back at you with a smile – face still covered in mud and only his red eyes contrasting with it; what a ridiculous scene.

Astarion softly grabbed you by the shoulders to prevent you from your attempt to drown yourself. You could see his signature smirk on his face. “Now, now, no need to feel ashamed, my lecherous little nymph. I couldn’t blame you, could I?” His grin split his face and his teeth glinted at you – most prominently his fangs. “Also, I can assure you that the feeling is very much mutual, beautiful. Now give me a kiss!”, he demanded while he had dragged you up from the water successfully.

With his hands still on your shoulders he pulled you towards him, lips already pursed in expectation.

“Not while you have dirt on your face”, you replied in disgust and placed your flat hand against his face to hold him off.

“It’s not dirt!”, Astarion exclaimed, voice rising in annoyance and grabbed your hand from his face. You still looked at him in disgust. “Ugh, fine!” He rolled his eyes and splashed water on his face and rubbed himself clean with his hands.

“Better?”, he asked after a few moments, tone still a bit annoyed. “No wait, there’s still a little bit”, you said and leaned close to him as if wanting to clean a speckle off his perfect face, brows furrowed in concentration. But with a lightning quick move you pinched his nose, making him growl back at you. He grabbed you by the shoulders once more and pulled you close until you were nose to nose while he stared angrily at you. “No poking the vampire!”, he said sombrely. “Or I’ll eat you!”

You giggled and closed the last bit of space to finally kiss him. And that seemed to calm down the beast. Letting go of your shoulders, one of his hands wandered to the front of your neck, softly resting on your collarbone. The other cupped your cheek while his tongue entered your mouth – tasting you, tangling with yours, exploring. Then he broke the kiss, leaving you to gasp, and trailing little pecks from the corner of your mouth over your cheek up to your ear.

You softly arched yourself to him, offering up your neck. “If you want to find out if today’s more of a wine or chocolate day.” The vampire laughed. Promise rang in it. “Deeply appreciated, my sweet, but maybe later. Can’t have you running around tonight with two fresh puncture wounds on your neck, can we?”, he whispered and let his lips wander lightly over your quickening pulse. His hand on your neck applying just the tiniest bit of pressure on your throat.

You could only gulp. “Also, I fear that if I would get lost in your neck now, we are never making it to this event”, Astarion added while lifting his face from your neck. Ah yes, you’d almost forgotten.

The pale elf smirked again at you: “And we still have some work to do on you, my sweet.” “Excuse you?” Whatever had heated your blood was immediately gone – this prick.

“You heard me, now turn around and let me take care of you in return, my love”, he insisted. You sighed and complied because you knew there was no point in denying him. And also, you wouldn’t say no to getting pampered by your vampire.

You let yourself be seated in the same position Astarion had been in at first: between his legs, your back to his chest. He put some of the goo on your face despite your protest (“It’s only going to bring out your beauty some more, my love.” “This face is as good as it gets as is, Astarion, no need to try.” “Hush and shut your nasty mouth or I can’t promise to keep the dirt out of it!”). Then he softly scrubbed you all clean and massaged your whole body, pouring some heavenly smelling oils in his hands from time to time.

The night before he had gone out to run some errands – and returned with bags and bags of stuff. It had been clothes and apparently lots of toiletry. One of the things had been large and very heavy. But about that and some other stuff he’d brought he had wiggled his finger at you to not take a peek.

Everything for your bath time he had neatly lined up next to the tub. You barely had a clue what all the small jars, flasks and crucibles were for but if it made him happy to indulge in it you were the last person to stop him from it.

Then he’d carefully run the bath you were now sitting in. And you couldn’t complain: the bath water smelled heavenly of lavender and cedar. Whatever he was massaging you with smelled of oranges and other delicious fruits and he himself deliciously of bergamot.

You sighed deeply and were aware that you must’ve been the perfect mirror image of what Astarion had looked like some minutes ago.

“Enjoying yourself, my love?”, Astarion asked gently while his hands worked your neck. You only hummed in response. “We should do this more often, darling. You’re allowed to indulge in luxury sometimes, you know?”, he said softly while starting to work on your hair.

“Speaking of – mind telling me how much exactly everything was you brought home yesterday?”, you asked while letting your head fall back into his touch, eyes closed. “Yes, I do mind. Part of indulgence is not looking at the price tag, my sweet”, Astarion scolded you sweetly. “And you deserve to take better care of yourself”, he continued while trying to get out a serious knot from your braids.

You felt your body tense a little and sighed: “You know I’m not good with either of those things, Astarion.” “I know”, he replied simply and shortly lifted one of your hands out of the water to press a kiss to it. “That’s why I’m going to teach you. I’ll have you be a high-maintenance lady ready to splurge at every opportunity in no time, dearest.” You laughed and readjusted your sitting position to lean back against the elf’s chest more. “I don’t think that would be a good look on me.” Astarion sighed dramatically: “Oh well, a shame. I guess I’m going to have to fill this role then.” You softly chuckled at that and thought to yourself that he was already well en route for that.

“I guess I could take up some of your suggestions though – I’m tired of feeling like a gutter rat standing next to you in all your luscious, white-curly glory.” Astarion snickered: “I’ll have you remember you chose the description ‘gutter rat’ for yourself. Also, I think you’re the most beautiful creature the Gods have ever created but to each their own I guess.” You blushed again and sank down a little further between his legs while he grabbed another one of the flasks.

Sometimes he just made you so casually swoon you couldn’t believe it – and never did you know how to reply to his genuine and sweet flattery.

“So, lesson one: you have really beautiful hair, my love, and I know you love your braids, but it all turns into a tangled mess easily. But fortunately,” – he poured something from the flask onto your prepared and detangled hair; it smelled deliciously flowery – “some clever soul came up with conditioner. You use it after you’ve washed your hair. Use only a little and work it into your hair like this.” He worked the thick liquid specifically into the lengths of your hair, combing through them with his fingers and then softly scrunching the strands in his hands. “Then you let it sit a little and only then rinse it out. It helps with tangles and also will make your hair deliciously soft.” Astarion basically purred the last words. Oh, good thing to know this was something he delighted in.

He did as he had instructed you while you patiently sat there and let him work his magic. Afterwards he proceeded to comb your hair through.

You both sat in silence. You enjoyed being taken care of and thought of the evening to come. You couldn’t help but feel some anxiety again creep into you at the thought of having to deal with the society of the Upper City. You’d probably take a good old-fashioned tavern brawl or a heist every day over having to make small talk with people who’d probably also choose the description “gutter rat” for you.

“Now”, Astarion said after a while “for tonight’s event I would like to propose to you to put your hair in some waves. Nothing major, just pinning them, letting them dry and then putting some strands up later.”

You were still way inside your head to fully understand what he was getting up: “Oh uhm, go ahead. Just don’t make me look like a coiffed poodle please.” Astarion scoffed at that and started to pin your hair up carefully.

“What’s troubling you, my love?”, he asked casually because of course he had noticed how you were absent-minded and your body had tensed. By what he had earlier revealed he’d probably smelled it too.

For a second you wondered if you ever could hide something from this man. But then again – why would you have to?

You sighed deeply while you grabbed your one hand with the other and started to press your thumb into the palm of the other – a nervous habit. “I guess, I’m still a bit scared of how the evening will play out”, you confessed and let your head fall down. Astarion wasn’t having it: “Ah ah, my sweet, head up or I can’t work. But also, head up because you don’t need to be worried. If push comes to shove, we can always leave.” You sighed again and relaxed a little. You shortly lifted your hand to grab one of his to squeeze it in thanks.

“Aren’t you scared at all? I mean, like of meeting someone… from before… or from before before?”, you asked silently and looked down at your hands still kneading each other in the water.

The vampire didn’t respond immediately. “You don’t have to answer-“, you started but then Astarion replied. “Not really. Cazador sometimes had us spawn ‘entertain’ his guests during his events but seeing as he either altered their memory or killed them off in the end… No one will recognise me albeit I may know some of the attending guests”, he explained pretty matter-of-fact while his hands kept working on putting up strand for strand of your hair.

Another silence followed.

“As from before that…” Astarion’s words trailed off. You grabbed his hand once more and almost already wanted to say again that he didn’t have to tell you but you kind of felt he wanted to let it out. “I haven’t seen or heard a shred from anyone I knew or was related to since I’ve been turned. Never. And my surname is pretty common among elves – there probably are at least five other Lord Ancuníns running about the city. I guess we might meet our lovely elder neighbour and that’s about it.”

His hands had stopped their task. Your hand was still grabbing one of his and you squeezed it again to try and provide some comfort. “I’m sorry, Astarion”, you whispered quietly and leaned your head back. It connected with his forehead as he leaned forward a little.

“Don’t be”, he whispered back while his fingers started to move again. “You’re my family now”, he said and at that your heart swelled with warmth and love.

“I love you, Astarion.” “Love you too, my little gutter rat.”

You tried to splash him with water.

How could he go from genuine, sincere and melancholy to unbelievable bastard in point two seconds. He was a handful at the best of times.

The vampire just laughed at your petty attempt of getting back at him. Shortly after he proclaimed being done with his work.

“There you go, now wash off your face, my dear”, he instructed. You did as told, then turned around to him: “Are we done now? I feel like I might’ve already grown some fins!”

Astarion smirked at you. “Oh no, there’s one more thing we need to take care of, my sweet”, he said slowly and threw you a glance that immediately made your blood boil. “And what might that be?”, you asked, already barely trusting your mouth to form words with the way he kept staring at you with his crimson gaze.

“Well, I can’t let you go to this event all tense and anxious, can I?”, he asked and moved closer to you, his gaze almost predatory. You gulped and moved back until your back hit the rim of the tub and there was no more space to escape from the prowling vampire. You felt heat form inside of you.

He moved in even closer, putting his arms around you as he leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“Luckily, I know just the right treatment for this kind of ailment”, he whispered and let his lips wander to your neck where your pulse had started hammering. He grabbed you then and lifted you up, so you sat on the floor just in front of the tub that was lowered into the ground. “That’s lesson two my love: always grasp onto the pleasures life offers you”, he whispered sinfully as he moved your legs, so your thighs were placed on his shoulders. You were already shuddering in expectation. You let one of your hands enter his soft curls as he made you lean back.

Astarion lowered his mouth to the space between your legs, letting his devilish silver tongue work its magic and devoured you as if you were a feast and he a starved man.

When lightning had struck the first time with your back arched impossibly at the way he had made you feel and your hand buried in his curls, he rose out of the tub. You watched him as trails of water ran down his perfect body, already yearning for more. To feel him, to love him.

You looked at him expectantly, seeing the love and the desire you felt mirrored in his ruby eyes. He lowered himself onto you on the edge of the tub, moving you back a little and made sure the second lightning struck both of you.

Tags: @aurasyn @margoteve @usuallyunlikelyfox @hollowmasque

234 notes · View notes

absolutebl · 10 months

Text

2023 Thai BL Favorites List - Mid Year Check In

Tagged by @thatgirl4815 (thanks hon!) I adapted this to my taste.

Feel free to c/p do the same!

I’m answering all these right now for 2023, because it’s too complicated for me otherwise.

Favorite Thai BL 2023:

My School President

Favorite currently active Thai BL Branded Pair:

High Heat: Net James (Bed Friend)

Established: OhmFluke (609 Bedtime Story)

New: GeminiFourth (My School President & Moonlight Chicken)

Most underrated Thai BL actor right now:

Film Thanapat. He was perfectly serviceable in To Sir, With Love but he’s a goddamn revelation in Laws of Attraction.

Pair the deserves a second chance:

Haii & Boom (Chains of Heart)

Favorite Thai BL Main Character 2023:

King (Bed Friend)

Favorite Thai BL Side Character 2023:

Thiu (My School President)

Favorite Thai BL side dishes 2023:

Li Ming & Heart (Moonlight Chicken)

Favorite scene in a Thai BL so far:

My School President calling on the spirit of Love Sick. What can I say? I love meta and I love BL remembering it’s own history. This did both.

Most Anticipated Thai BL (& why):

I Feel You Linger in the Air

I like the premise, the cast looks great. This is a time travel historical romance adaption of y-novel by Violet Rain about a heartbroken architect who is transported to the 1930s from the producers of Lovely Writer.

Guilty pleasure Thai BL 2023 series (or likely to become so):

Future the series

July 2023 Thai BL Report

ABL has watched:

My School President & Our Skyy 2: My School President

La Pluie

Step By Step

Bed Friend

Between Us

Destiny Seeker

Make a Wish

Moonlight Chicken

Never Let Me Go & Our Skyy 2: Never Let Me Go

Our Skyy 2: A Tale of Thousand Stars

Our Skyy 2: Bad Buddy

Our Skyy 2: Star in My Mind

Our Skyy 2: The Eclipse

A Boss and a Babe & Our Skyy 2: A Boss and a Babe

Cutie Pie 2 You special

Future the series

609 Bedtime Story

Our Skyy 2: Vice Versa

I Will Knock You

Remember Me

Tin Tem Jai

Pastsenger

The Promise

Cafe In Love

Chains of Heart

Hit Bite Love

The Luminous Solution

My Blessing

Currently Watching:

Be Mine Super Star

Be My Favorite

Dinosaur Love

Hidden Agenda

Laws of Attraction

Love Syndrome III

Low Frequency

Senior Love Me

Wedding Plan

Can’t Find

Love Upon a Time

Boyband the series

Heart by Heart

Moments Of Love

DNF

House of Stars

Till the World Ends

Announced for 2023 (maybe still to come?)

After Sundown

1626

Fake Love

Friends Forever

I Wish You Love

Lucky Love

Pisces of Me

Refund Love

Right Time, Right You

You Are My Soulmate

The Camp Fire

The Outing Series

Deep Night

Pit Babe

Rule No.1: Don’t Be Too Emotional

Future From Me

SHADOW

Naughty Babe

Only Friends

Buddy Line Y Animal AKA

Mystique in the Mirror

2 Worlds

Punk Spy

The Next Prince

Kemjira Will Survive

Playboyy

Close Friend 3 Soju Bomb

Waterboyy 3 AKA Waterboys

Acadex

I Feel You Linger in the Air

Middleman’s Love AKA Middle Love

Cinderella Boys

Cherry Magic (Thai remake)

Born to be Y

Dangerous Romance

23.5

4 Minutes

7 Times 4 Days

Big Dragon 2

Big Dragon the movie

Boy Never Smiles

Chiang Mai Adventures

City of Stars

Colorful Melody

Cooking Crush

Flirt Milk

Friend. Boyfriend

Heroin The Series

Hot Bamee and Yummy Gyogung

Khemjira Will Survive

Last Twilight

Lost in the Woods

Love in Translation

Love Puzzle AKA Plengrak AKA

Love Syndrome – The Beginning

Lover Merman

Man Suang

Night Dream

Our Skyy 2

Our Story

Rule No.1: Don't Be too Emotional

Sunset Vibes

The Chinese Family

The D Project

The Hidden Character

The Internship

The Sign

The Whisperer

True Moon

Two Worlds

Wish Me Luck

Wish You Luck

Y-Moment

Crazy Handsome Rich

For Him the series

Twin The Series AKA Twins

Casanova Begins

Marry Go Round

Venus in the Sky

#Thai bl #memes gonna meme #abl answers the call of the meme #favorite thai bl #favorite thai pairing #most underrated actor #thai BL midyear reoirt #thai bl till to come

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softie00 · 1 year

Text

STAR

pairings; lee know x reader

warnings; hurt, unrequited love, feelings after years

words; drabble

summary; you think after some time you might get over the person you always fell in love with but you haven't. You struggle till this day knowing minho will never be yours.

It's been 2 years since Minho had gotten into a relationship. Something you never really saw coming, wait. You did. Of course it was going to happen one day. Minho was perfect with a beautiful heart who loves taking care of others and showing affection in his own cute ways. And perhaps, you was one of them people too.

However you took his way of showing love differently from the rest. Not that you ever meant to. But how could you not? When all he did was listen to your worries, have late night deep thoughts and sharing vulnerabilities amongst each another.

You felt special. You felt like you really knew him as a person. As much as Minho is still perfect in your eyes, he has his own flaws too. But you even fell in love with those flaws of his. You would kiss them flaws and tell him everyday of what a kind hearted person he is despite what others say.

He has been nothing but gentle with you. Not realising how slowly he made his way in to your protected heart as he opened it with such care, only to leave you with broken pieces instead.

It's not his fault, no. It's yours.

How stupid of you.

You really thought he could fall in love with you?

Be with you?

You vividly remember these thoughts flooding your mind as he finally told you he liked someone else. Someone who isn't you. Feeling shattered yet keeping a painful smile up for him. You hummed as he spoke.

You still see each other from time to time and for your own sanity not as often. It's hard to start faking smiles as your face muscles ache. How could you smile when the one you always wanted fell for another?

Though it seemed like it worked. Because Minho has not been able to tell at all with your expressions. A relief yet it hurts you too. A part of you wished Minho could read through your eyes and know the truth. But he never has and probably never will.

It upsets you because as someone who's very observant why has he not? You could easily tell when Minho's mood has been affected by the littlest things, he sometimes does that cute pout which brings his lips up and-

Oh. Oh.

Reality hits you once again.

Because he's never fallen in love with you.

He doesn't watch your every action, he doesn't know how to see your emotions through your eyes and how sadness lingers through them for time, he doesn't know how to read your thoughts before you even speak, because he just doesn't love you like that.

The way you do.

Dear diary

Why does everyone says time heals everything yet each day increases my sadness more. They said it'll take time but how much more longer can I take? How do I stop myself from falling in love when he smiles like the brightest star above the skies and lights up my dark universe. It doesn't get better with time, they all lied. It gets tiring to keep a false act up, to smile when you feel like dying, the heavy heart that continues to bleed away in secret. I want to be selfish, I do. Sometimes I want to tell him the truth and set myself free from it. A hidden part of me only to see if he'd react the way I'd want. But will he really?

No.

I need to stop. I feel almost pathetic. First it was weeks, then months and now years. She keeps him happy and he deserves that. To smile. To be loved and cherished.

But, don't I deserve it too?

#skz fic #lee know fanfic #lee know fluff #lee know scenarios #skz drabbles #lee know angst #skz angst #skz fluff #skz scenarios #lee know x reader #stray kids x reader

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mountsmason · 2 years

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Tiring Secrets; Part 1

summary: you have been secretly dating Mason for six months but you've had enough of the secrecy and lies so you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine.

pairing: mason mount x reader

a/n: my first ever fic request, hope I've done it justice @yourmypurpose <33

You and Mason had been dating for 6 months and it was pure bliss up until recently. He insisted that the relationship should be kept under wraps, away from the public eye. Initially you agreed, but you had never thought that also included his friends and family. On the odd occasion you did bump into his friends, Mason would simply say that you're a friend of his sister’s. He would act like a stranger to you in public, whereas behind closed doors was entirely a different story.

Mason would sneak up behind you as you would cook and start peppering you with kisses on your neck, and things would escalate pretty fast— long story short, the food would get burnt and you would have to order takeaway. He was beyond considerate, knowing how to take care of you when you had a bad day at work or unbearable period pains. Mason was the perfect boyfriend. Maybe that's why you agreed to the whole secrecy of your relationship for so long.

Date nights were spent at either his house or yours. Cooking dinner together or ordering takeaway and watching a movie. As much as you loved it just being the two of you in your own little bubble, you sometimes wished that he would take you to a fancy restaurant or even to the cinema.

You were on your lunch break when you decided to give Mason a call and talk about your plans for tonight. It was his turn to cook which usually means that he would be making his chicken pasta with his secret sauce. And you would choose tonight’s film, which was obviously going to be a Marvel one.

“Who’s that Mase?” one of his teammates asked in the background as Mason picked up the call.

“No-one important mate, just my sister’s friend,” he replied nonchalantly as he went to another room to talk to you.

There it was again.

No-one important. Just my sister’s friend.

It wasn’t easy hearing that time and time again, each time wounding you deeper. You suddenly didn’t want to talk to him anymore.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, my boss is calling me, Mase, I’ve got to go,” you hung up the phone quickly and put it down on the table, taking a deep breath as you stared at the lock screen of you and Mason. It was a mirror selfie of you and him, his face buried in your neck to keep face hidden.

You drove straight to Mason’s after working overtime, ready to collapse on the sofa and spend the evening cuddling with Mason. When you unlocked the door to his place, you went straight to the kitchen, assuming that Mason would be cooking the pasta, but the kitchen was empty.

You went upstairs to his bedroom, surprisingly finding him all dressed up.

“You didn't have to put that much effort for date night," you joked.

“Ha, funny, I'm gonna meet the boys for a drink,” he laughed dryly, fixing his hair in the mirror.

“But it’s date night,” this isn't the first time he's bailed on you, and it was starting to bother you.

“We can rearrange,”

“Or how about I come along too so you can finally introduce me to your friends?” a glint of hope in your voice.

“It’s just gonna be us lads, another time maybe,”

“Oh okay,” you brushed it off, like you always do, hiding your hurt behind that fake smile you've gotten all too used to.

Mason walked downstairs, ready to leave, with his phone in his hand with the loudspeaker on.

“The club we always go to, yeah, right I’ll see you in 5,” Mason confirmed with his friend as he opened the front door.

“Mase, we’re gonna find you someone, you ain't leaving alone tonight, I promise you that mate,” Mason hung up the call, looking flustered.

“What the fuck was that about?" you gave him a look that said it all.

“Nothing he’s just kidding, Y/N listen-" he reached out to reassure you but you moved away from his touch, crossing your arms.

“Just go, he’s waiting for you,” you were beyond pissed off and nothing Mason could say would make you feel better. So he left as you heard his car drive off.

In a spur of the moment decision, you texted your friend.

Y/N: you up for some drinks?

Y/F/N: always 😏😈🤪

The taxi pulled up just outside the club Mason always goes to. You paid the driver as you stepped out with your friend. The tight dress you were wearing hugged you in all the right places, a dress that was practically screaming that you're single.

It didn’t take your friend long to find someone and take them to the dance floor. So you decided to have a drink at the bar, seeing a familiar face.

Mason and a few of his friends were sitting at the bar, enjoying some drinks.

There was a spare seat next to one of Mason's friends, so it would make sense for you to sit there. You ordered your drink when someone offered to pay for it, that someone being Mason's friend.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Mason looked over at you with wide eyes and confusion.

“Getting a few drinks with some friends," friend actually, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You two know each other?” his friend looked at you, and then Mason.

Mason hesitated, and at that moment, it was time to give him a taste of his own medicine.

“Yeah he’s my friend’s brother,” taking a sip of your drink, trying your hardest to hide your smirk.

Mason stared at you in utter disbelief, a feeling you were very familiar with.

“Mason, are you not going to introduce your sister’s friend to all of us?,” one of his other friends called out.

That’s when you realised that Mason lied to you about it just being the lads going for a drink as some of them were there with their girlfriends. You couldn’t believe how blatantly he lied about it, when all you’ve ever done is be honest with him. Then, for a brief second, your wondered what else he might have lied about. But instead of wallowing in self pity, you downed your drink and ordered another one. It was going to be a long night.

Mason sat at the bar as you flirted with his friend, as he would lean in close to whisper something that was not at all amusing, yet you would laugh as if it was the funniest thing you had ever heard. You ignored Mason the entire night as you felt his gaze burning into you.

Eventually he had enough of everything as you saw him leave the club. That’s when you knew you had taken it too far.

“I’m gonna go get some air,” you explained to Mason’s friend, rushing outside.

When you stepped outside into the cool breeze of the night, Mason was pacing around, but stopped in his tracks when he saw you.

“Do you wanna explain to me what the fuck all that was?” He was furious.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you pretended to be clueless.

“Why were you flirting with him?” Hands running through his hair in frustration.

“I wasn’t-”

“Don’t you dare try denying it Y/N, I was fucking sat right there the entire time!”

“It’s not nice, is it? Being treated like that,” you admitted.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You rolled your eyes in response.

"That anger and frustration you’re feeling right now, that’s exactly how I feel every time you go out, the rumours and pictures the next day of you and some girl. Every time you refuse to acknowledge that I’m not your sister’s friend but your fucking girlfriend,”

“I do that to protect you!”

“That’s bullshit Mason, I don't need protection from anyone! Or maybe it’s not that, maybe you’re embarrassed of me that’s why you want to keep me hidden,”

“That’s a fucking lie,”

“Is it though? Then explain to me why you didn’t bring me along with you today, when your other friends were sat there with their girlfriends,”

Mason was silent. And that told you enough.

“I tried really hard to make this work, but it fucking hurts you know,”

“Y/N… please don’t do this,” Mason's voice broke and your heart shattered into a million pieces.

“Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be Mase,” you whispered softly, your lip quivering as tears threatened to escape. With one final look, you walked away before you changed your mind.

The last thing you heard was Mason shouting “fuck" as you got into the taxi and went back to your place.

part two

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount oneshot #mason mount fic #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #mason mount blurb #chelsea #chelsea fc #england nt #football #footballer imagine #mountsmasonfics

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azaani-art · 7 months

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The moon and the stars

A dress from @justporo's

"A Night of Fake Smiles and Hidden Lies"

"...So, you finally strode over and took in the garment: It was a striking deep blue that became lighter and a wonderful shade of purple up to lavender further down the skirt – impressively similar to the colours the sky turned when the sun set. It had a high collar that didn’t fully close around the neck in the front, so it allowed for a deep neckline that almost looked like a four-pointed star and long flowy sleeves that from the elbows down became cascading trains of fabric. The bodice was decorated with embroidered bigger four-point stars and smaller sparkles in silver and a few shiny stones. From the slender belt around the waistline down it became a luscious silken skirt that was carefully draped with few more star decorations that became fewer the more the colours lightened..."

- With love, 1_10V3_Y0U

#I added few things to my likings #just because I can lol #i know #not the usual kind of content #but i am the boss here #azaani art

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brokenjere · 2 years

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seventeen going under (ch. 21) (j.f)

seventeen going under (j.f)

a/n: guys its here - the final chapter. love you all so much for reading and supporting the story, it means so much to me. this will not be the end of my storytelling and i hope to be able to continue their story one day - lmk what you think :)

catch up here

Tangible proof. Those words kept ringing in my ear. Jeremiah had written an entire book of tangible proof that he loved me and all I had given him was a summer of lies. Just listen my mom said. Just listen. Just listen. Just listen.

I rummaged through my room to find any tangible proof hidden in these walls. Something I may have forgotten about or deemed less important. I grabbed notebooks that I stashed from school, flipping through them to find notes written back and forth between us but all I found were niceties written by Conrad in between the margins of my Math and English notes. “You’re gonna kill this test!” “Don’t forget to hang the 1.” “This note was so important.” He would take my notebooks when I told him I was struggling and he’d make notes on the sidelines making sure I got everything I needed to get out of it. When I saw them over the next few days in class, I’d smile to myself. I always felt taken care of.

On my bookshelf was a book. The spine read The Outsiders by S.E Hinton. I grabbed it, the only copy I owed of it that had a broken spine and was well loved. It was the same copy I had in middle school that carried me to now. It was the only copy I read religiously. Next to it was a newer copy with the spine still intact and I grabbed that one, too. We all were forced to read it in middle school but it had quickly become my favorite book of all time. I scribbled down annotations in the margins and between the lines over so many years it was barely legible anymore. The new copy was from Conrad. He gave it to me one night while we sat in the basement alone. Jeremiah went to get more snacks and Conrad pulled it out of the couch cushion. “I annotated it with my thoughts. I don’t know, I thought you’d like it,” he said. I read it that night. This was his tangible proof, I thought. All the notes in the margins of my notebooks and this novel - that was his way of telling me he has loved me all these years, too.

Conrad once gave me a copy of Wuthering Heights. It sat on the top shelf, untouched, but he said it was one of his favorites and he hoped I would read it some day. I never did because classics weren’t always my favorite but I grabbed it off the shelf and opened up to page 1 with a pen tucked behind my ear and a highlighter in the spine of the pages. I wrote in the margins and highlighted what I liked and wrote sad faces next to the stuff I didn’t. I only got halfway through before the sun went down and my eyelids felt heavy. Mom went to Susannah’s without me. No one texted.

The next morning I woke up so early the sun wasn’t fully up yet. There was a dark glow to the Earth and the clouds looked pink. I grabbed the book off the nightstand and I finished it. On the very last page, I wrote a letter. My brain hurt. My heart hurt. My hand hurt. But I signed my name at the bottom with a kiss and then shut the book. My tangible proof.

There was a knock on my door. “Are you awake?” Mom.

“Yeah,” I called back as I got up to open the door. She was in her pajamas, her hair in a messy bun, and bags under her eyes. “You look good,” I teased.

She pushed herself into the room with a fake laugh and sat herself down at my desk. It was a disaster between me digging out every ancient artifact in the drawers and all the new supplies we got a few days ago but she poked at it all anyway. “What’s with the mess?” She asked, holding up a notebook from the 7th grade.

“I was just trying to find something.” She cocked an eyebrow up. “What? It’s true.”

“Find what?” I crossed my arms and shuffled on my two feet feeling uncomfortable.

“I don’t know. Proof I love Jeremiah, I guess.” When I said it out loud, it sounded stupid. Why should I need proof when I know it in my heart? My atoms were split from his atoms. I shouldn’t need a piece of paper to prove that, yet, here I was searching. Her face said everything I knew: I was stalling. I was looking for a way out.

Her eyes softened and she sighed, setting down the notebook. “You know when you were younger you used to beg me to buy Jeremiah cards for every occasion.” I nodded because I knew this. I remembered it vaguely but I didn’t know where she was going with her story, so I let her continue. “Easter, Christmas, birthdays. If there was a card for it, you wanted Jeremiah to have one. And even if there wasn’t, you’d want a blank one so you could make one yourself. Do you know how many cards he probably has?” I shook my head. “Hundreds, I bet.”

“What’s your point?” I asked.

She smiled. “My point is that you signed every single one, ‘I love you”. He has heard it a million times. He has it written down a million times from the moment you could write. I used to have to spell it out for you, that’s how young you were.” She was shaking her head as she was talking as if this was obvious. As if I should have already known. As if she has known from the moment I was born I was destined for Jeremiah Fisher. “I’m pretty sure you came out of the womb loving that boy. Don’t go looking for reasons why you don’t.” She flipped open one of the new notebooks. The page was stark white and empty. “But if you need something tangible then write it down.”

When she left the room, I took her spot at the desk. The page in front of me was so full of promise. So full of all the words I’ve been wanting to say. I took a pen and did what my mom said. I wrote down all my feelings. All the good and all the bad and when I was finished, I had my tangible proof. It was the only thing that sealed the whole thing shut. I stuffed it in an envelope and sealed it with a kiss.

Susannah answered the front door when I rang the bell. I’m not sure what I was expecting but her looks took me off guard. She was perfectly put together and she was smiling. “You’re here!” She exclaimed, pulling me into the foyer for a hug. “Your mom said you weren’t feeling well. How are you?” She smoothed down my hair and kissed my temple before holding me at arms length to look at me.

“I’m good,” I told her, trying to muster my best smile. I felt the need to apologize for the debutante ball but the words didn’t come. I think she saw them in my eyes.

“Hey, don’t worry about everything that’s happened, alright? The boys are okay for now. I will start treatment in a few weeks and all will be well, okay?” She didn’t sound too convinced. “Want me to get him for you?” I didn’t know who she was referring to but I nodded. Both the boys came tumbling down the stairs a few moments later.

They stood in front of me, both effortlessly handsome but in their own ways. Conrad’s hoodie was falling off his shoulders and his hair was messy and pushed out of his face. Jeremiah was put together but I knew it wasn’t intentional. His curls were perfectly placed on his head and they both stared at me with hopeful admiration. “Can I talk to you?” I asked, looking over at Conrad.

The room felt thick. I could feel Jeremiah’s shock and confusion even though I wasn’t looking at him. Conrad cleared his throat and he nodded and stumbled over his words, “yeah, yeah.” He nodded his head so I would follow him up to his room. I avoided eye contact with Jeremiah as I passed him.

Conrad let me in the room first. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it. He kept his hands behind his back and I pictured his white knuckles gripping the doorknob. His eyes were soft. Wanting. Hoping.

I took the book out of my bag and handed it to him. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What’s this?”

“Open it.” He did, careful not to crack the spine. I can still see my handwriting scribbled across the first few pages. He flipped through them, his eyes scanning over the highlighted parts and reading my commentary on the side. “I figured it was time I repaid you.”

He smiled and shut the book, closing the gap between us. He dropped the book on his bed. His arms wrapped around my waist. It was just instinct for me to wrap mine around his neck and let him spin me around. When my feet landed, he cupped my cheeks. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I liked the book.” My voice was barely above a whisper. I was too scared to speak. “I wrote you something in the back. A note.” He went to grab the book but I grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “But before you read it I need you to know that it’s Jeremiah. It’s always been Jeremiah.” He didn’t react. His body didn’t stiffen and he didn’t move. He just looked at me and blinked. “Say something.”

“What do you want me to say?” He straightened himself out and was no longer aching to touch the book. “I’m happy for you. I just want you to be happy. That’s all I have ever wanted.”

“I know,” I whispered.

“You’re my best friend but I was stupid to think that I stood a chance next to him. No one compares, right?” He half chuckled and my heart snapped in half. I shook my head and sat down on the bed. Everything felt too heavy.

“You’re not stupid. That wasn’t a stupid thought. I’m sorry. I wish I loved you that way. I wish I didn’t make you feel this way. No one is comparing you two. He’s not better than you, he's just Jeremiah.” I breathed out the last word like it was something I had been holding in for my entire life. A weight lifted off my shoulders and they slumped down. Conrad moved my hair out of my face and tucked a piece of it behind my ear. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“I wish it could have been me but you’ll take care of each other. Promise me, he’ll take care of you?” The request felt odd coming from his lips but I think I knew what he meant. I nodded and Conrad kissed my forehead. “Go to him. He’s probably freaking out. I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

“I couldn’t talk to him without talking to you first.” Conrad grabbed my hand and stood me up. He pulled me in for a hug and he held me for a few moments. The world felt so quiet I couldn’t even hear the birds chirping. When he pulled away, everything came back to life. life. Conrad kissed my temple before releasing me completely and I searched the house for Jeremiah. He wasn’t in his room, although his clothes from our summer in Cousins were thrown all around the room haphazardly. The cleaning I did the other day was barely noticeable but it smelled like him.

I found him in the basement laying on the giant Love Sac. It was well-loved and over used, with small holes ripping at the seams that Susannah had patched numerous times before already. His ankles were crossed and his arm was thrown over his eyes to block out the light. He didn’t hear me come down so I looked at him for a few moments as I stood at the bottom of the stairs. My eyes couldn’t drink in enough of him and I could look at him forever but instead, I started to walk toward him. He sat up, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the light and to me. He smiled gently almost like he didn’t want to really be happy to see me but how could he help it? The corners of his mouth turned up anyway.

“Hey,” he whispered. I gave him a small wave. The letter was itching in my back pocket. “About time you showed up,” he teased. My cheeks flushed and he reached for me. He pleaded, “please don’t tell me you love him.”

I shook my head slightly and his eyes softened. “Jere,” I whispered.

“I love you,” he said. I stuck my hand out loosely and he grabbed it. I wish his life vest in this hurricane of a summer. I was keeping him afloat and drowning him all at once.

“I love you, too,” I said.

“I’m glad you finally agree.” I laugh. I actually laugh. “I love your smile. God, is it the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

“Jeremiah,” I tried again, eager to spit out exactly what I need to say. He cupped my cheek and his palm felt hot against my skin. His thumb caressed my face and then my bottom lip, pulling it down gently. I placed a kiss on the pad of his finger.

“Just kiss me, okay? Don’t say anything, just kiss me and be mine.” How could I resist his request? I couldn’t. I let him kiss me and he kissed me like the world was crashing around us and the last thing he would ever remember was the feeling of my lips and I kissed him back as the Earth fell away in giant chunks. His curls wrapped around my fingers and his fingers wrapped around the base of my neck. He was inhaling every part of me, drinking me in with an eagerness I had never expected from Jeremiah Fisher. He wasn’t intense or needy. Never in his life. He was soft and carefree and reminded me of the color of the sky when it’s really early and the sun had just woken up making the sky so clear it almost looked white. Right now, he reminded me of crimson. There was a fire in him that I could not put out.

When he pulled away, our breathing was heavy but it was in sync. We were perfectly in tune. His breath had become my breath and his saliva was now swimming in my body. He was him and I was me and we were one. “Do you know how long I have loved you?” He asked. This admission had struck me right in the gut. He was so desperate for me to love him and it was because he didn’t know I had been loving him all this time.

“Almost as long as I have loved you, I assume.” I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the folded up piece of paper. I probably could have presented it a little nicer but the words just poured out of my body and I was too impatient to wait so I folded it up haphazardly and threw it in my back pocket before I lost the courage. “I wrote this for you, but I’m sure it’s not the first love letter I’ve written for you. According to my mom, you should look through all the cards I’ve given you.” I half-laughed as he took the letter from me, his finger slowly unfurling the paper but I put my hand on top of him. “Don’t open it yet.”

“Why not?” He questioned. I folded my hand over his and he used his other hand, the one not holding my letter, and grabbed my waist pulling me closer to him.

“Read it when you’re alone.” Truthfully, I was embarrased to watch him read it. “And then you can call me in tears because you’re so consumed with love for me there’s no other way to express it other than tears,” I teased, kissing his pouting lips gently as if we had been doing it our whole lives. He smiled into my lips.

“I can think of some other ways to express my love for you,” he mumbled. He shoved the letter in his back pocket and grabbed my waist completely, holding me to his body. I giggled - giggled - like a little girl and kissed him with everything I had inside of me. Kissing him, loving him, was like coming up for fresh air. We collapsed into a pile of limbs on the LoveSac, laughing into eachother’s mouths. I rolled over on top of him and looked down at him. My hair fell in front of my face and he tucked it behind my ear. “Finally,” he whispered.

“You know this is insane, right? Us. Together.”

“Why do you think that?” He sounded genuinely curious but also disinterested. He disagreed and nothing I said would change his mind. I didn’t want to change his mind. I smiled so he knew.

“All we’ve ever been is friends. How are we going to navigate this? Won’t things be different?”

Jeremiah shook his head. “It won’t be different because nothing that I feel is different and I don’t think anything you feel is different. But now, we kiss.” He kissed me and then said, “Us, together, is not inside. It’s right.”

XXX

Later that night, after Jeremiah had read my letter, he snuck through my window. He told me, I love you, thank you, and then he kissed me. He kissed my lips and my jawline and the nape of my neck. We rolled around in my bed, stifling each other’s laughs so my parent’s would not be woken up. It was late and dark and the crickets were alive outside, singing for us.

He asked me how could you have waited so long for this? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I asked him the same thing and he flushed so red it went all the way down his neck. I didn’t notice the backpack that he was wearing when he came inside but now that was reaching for it, I saw it on the floor under the window. He pulled out the notebook that I had already saw, but I pretended to be confused. “I’ve been writing in this since I was a kid.” He handed it to me and I flipped through the pages I arleady saw.

“What is this?” I asked. Jeremiah was shy and he shrugged his shoulders and he kissed my cheek.

“All the ways I’ve loved you.”

That night, we kissed and we talked. We talked about his mom and he cried on my shoulder and then I started to cry as I apologized for lying to him all summer. I never should have done that, I admitted. It’s okay, he told me as he kissed all over my face. He kissed all my tears away until I could no longer tell why my face was wet. He said he could forgive me for anything. He would forgive me until the day that we die and then I told him I hoped he wouldn’t have to do that. I asked him about Conrad. He stiffened but said he was okay. He was happy for us. He was his brother again.

Jeremiah and I had never been given boundaries from our parents. We never needed them because we were just friends, despite everything everyone thought. But now, he was no longer allowed in my room with the door closed except when he snuck in really late at night without anyone knowing. Susannah was less concerned about what we were doing behind closed doors because she said she just wanted to see her son happy. She just wanted him to wake up with a smile on his face. She told me she wished she could see us get married and I told her I wished that, too. She got a photo of us at the ball framed. We were walking down the stage and he was looking at me like I was holding up the universe and I loved him more after seeing that. If that was possible.

Falling into a routine with him was easier than I anticipated. I thought we would mow over speed bumps with a hesitation that would surely doom us but we didn’t. I didn’t notice any speed bumps. He kissed me when he saw me and he kissed me when he left and he held my hand whenever he could. We did what we always did, be friends, but we kissed. Just like he said. And the kissing was good.

We kissed in the pouring rain one fall night. We were in his living room and the rain was pounding hard on the roof and he grabbed my hand and dragged me outside. I was laughing in shock, mostly, but I was still laughing. Jeremiah was laughing. He was dancing with me in the rain and kissing me as the cold water seeped through all my clothes and he screamed that he loved me over the rain hitting the cement. It wasn’t the first time it was said, of course, but it was the first time it was said since he was my boyfriend. He never had to say it. He said it when he told me to text him when I was home safely even though I was just going next door. He said it when he made sure I was drinking water every day. He said it when he brought me my favorite snacks every day. He said it when he stroked my hair until I fell asleep.

I screamed it back and he kissed me again and then I said, “can we go back inside?” He nodded and we warmed up in hot towels and he waited for me on his bed as I got out of a shower.

“You look good in my clothes,” he told me and then I said I could take them off if he wanted me to and then we made love quietly as the rain bled out of the sky. The birds sang us awake and he moved the hair out my face and tucked it behind my ear and told me, “I love you.” He never could say it enough. I could never hear it enough. It sounded new every single time and I prayed that I would never get sick of it.

“Do you think we were meant for each other?” I asked him one night. We were sitting in my bed. My feet were on his lap and he was stroking my ankle as I read a book for English class. Conrad had notes written in the margins because it was his copy from his own senior year. He went off to college when the leaves turned orange and we hadn’t seen him since but he calls pretty often. He’s doing well, he said. He’s happy.

Jeremiah looked at me. “Of course I think that.”

“Why?” I asked him again. Jeremiah chuckled and he grabbed my ankles, manuvering my legs so they sat on either side of him and then he gracefully pulled onto his lap. He traced my bottom lip with his finger and he searched my face for his answer.

“I have never been more sure of something in my entire life, don’t you feel that too?” I nodded. I felt it, too. I felt it so deeply it filled my lungs and made me feel like I was drowning sometimes but loving him made me feel like I was coming up for fresh air.

taglist: @things-that-make-sa-happy@marajillana@calpurnia2002@revemixer@harrysswhore@liltimmyst@chickunn-nuggett@rottenstyx@queenofthehellfireclub@lilbazzi@drikawinchester @gillybear17 @shamelessbluebirdsong

#tsitp #conrad fisher #the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher #tsitp imagine #jeremiah fisher imagine #jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher fan fic #conrad fisher imagine #belly conklin #jenny han #gavin casalegno #chris briney

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from-memphis-with-love · 26 days

Text

Gambling on Your Love - Ch. 6

Summary: Francesca, already frazzled by relentless tabloid buzz, numerous vicious and targeted on set mishaps, and break-in that leaves her raw, spirals when a fake mag story paints Elvis as fed up with her "needy debauchery." This gut punch drives her off the set, doubting everything. Elvis scrambles, reaching for explanations, trying to bridge the gap her swift exit widens, but she's ghosting, gone silent. Amidst this, her pulling out of the movie hits him like a sucker punch; desperation peaking, he races to her, hoping to mend cracks with truths. Can he weave through the labyrinth of lies, or has the last thread of trust frayed beyond repair? And is an on set insider intent on breaking them apart?

Wanna catch up? Check out chapters one, two, three, four, and five. Happy reading!

Word count: 8,500 Warnings: Media manipulation; personal betrayal; isolation; resilience and personal agency.

The tabloids were roaring.

Frannie couldn’t catch a break. Wherever she went, she was being hounded by the press. Hidden hats, lurking in the bushes, vultures with notebooks stowed away in their dark pockets, ready to ask her a line of licentious questions. She always gave them the same reaction: none. Holding up her hand to push a little distance, it conveyed the sense that they were disturbing her, trying to accost a lady in public while she simply wanted to go about her business.

Passersby occasionally joined in to shoo them away from her as the buzz surrounding the release of her "debaucherous" past intensified. The uproar caused by news of her dancing was both nauseatingly routine and unexpectedly overwhelming. Rolling her eyes at the commotion, she made a concerted effort to carry on.

It has only been a few weeks since she received the call from Cassandra, informing her that she and Elvis would need to return for reshoots. And just moments before that, her apartment had been completely ransacked, leaving her waking up in cold sweats. She hesitated leaving her apartment, hesitant to return to the place that had been violated. The thought of moving altogether crossed her mind, but she cherished her home. It pained her to even consider it. Lately, she had been spending her nights with Elvis, hoping to alleviate some of her anxiety—but therein lie the problem itself. Perhaps she was being overly paranoid, or maybe it was just strange how so many unfortunate events seemed to be connected to Elvis Presley and this cursed movie in some way.

She lay in bed, watching the silhouette of him in the shower, singing loudly and enjoying the acoustics of her bathroom. The last thing she wanted was to dread a film with him, one that they’d wrapped up so beautifully together. Cassandra had downplayed the time it would take, but after talking with her agent, Dominick told her that it might actually take months. Over 30 minutes of film had been destroyed. It was a disaster.

Francesca had wilted. Her heart and soul poured into every second. Gone. How convenient for Elvis that his solo scenes were mostly left untouched. The scenes with them together—and nearly half of her solo scenes—were cut and ripped, missing.

Dominick didn't explicitly say it, but he subtly hinted that he wouldn't blame her if she backed out. However, breaking the contract and abandoning a nearly finished film felt like career suicide. She didn't expect any other directors to jump at the chance to sign her on.

But the seed of doubt remained, ready to bloom at any moment.

Elvis emerged from the shower with a smile on his face and her cozy yellow towel, climbing into bed with her. Despite it all, she couldn't help but feel a sense of security with him in her home. He even insisted on sleeping closest to the door. He made sure the windows were locked and placed wooden dowels as stoppers (which he had thoughtfully purchased at the department store). For the first few weeks, he had his boys keep an eye on her place, taking turns to watch and check on her. No one ever returned to the scene of the crime. She wasn't sure if that should worry her or bring her comfort. The investigation yielded no results either. The intruder left no trace, no footprints, no fingerprints, no hair—just a cruel mark on her sense of safety.

Even though everyone around her seemed to be moving on, she couldn't let go. The wound may have scabbed over, but it remained visible, still causing pain with every movement, lurking in the depths of her mind, influencing every decision. And coupled with the violation of her privacy—her diary... It was such a personal and targeted attack. How could she simply forget? Someone out there harbored such intense hatred towards her that they were willing to not only destroy her belongings but also betray her secrets.

Frannie felt as if no one knew how to take her seriously, but she understood why. After all, she didn’t know anyone who’d been through something like this. Elvis tried his best. He gave her space when she needed it and showed his love in the most gentle ways. He even quietly replaced the items in her wardrobe that had been destroyed. Elvis also made sure the painters were paid and did everything while they were away on a wonderful trip.

Just last week, he’d taken Frannie on a mini vacation to Palm Springs. The weather was a balmy 75 degrees, and they both enjoyed soaking up the sun. It felt like therapy, getting out of town for a while and hanging out with Elvis’ crew who by now had become like family. Wherever they went, there was a sense of ease. The two of them wore cheeky disguises, she with wide cat’s eye sunglasses a silk hair wrap and he in a golf sweater and khaki shorts, complete with a bowler hat. But they didn’t need all that. Sensing their need for privacy, the sophisticated locals and other famous visitors let them go about their day unbothered.

Elvis went above and beyond, booking all the rooms at the Riviera Hotel. They swam in the luxurious blue water, the salt drying their hair in wispy furls. The heated pool was something of a marvel in itself, its warm dark surface reflecting the busy city’s lights.

He took her shopping to all the boutiques, eating up the retail therapy just as much as she. He generously paid for everything, always racking up more than her. He bought several suits, getting them tailored before they left to go hit the clubs.

“We’re getting in character,” Elvis laughed, rolling the dice. She winced at the mention of Gambling on Your Love, but not as hard as she anticipated. It was quickly forgotten with a glass of champagne and a few songs. He warned her to never leave her drink unattended, watching her like a hawk as they navigated the dimly lit venues.

The smoke was so heavy that the dancefloor turned blue. Frannie had fanned her face, telling him that she was getting a little dizzy from all the inhalations. Besides, she wanted to go back to the hotel and get a couple more laps in the pool before they left.

That’s when he hauled her into a taxi and murmured into the driver’s ear, making the man grin as he accepted a preliminary wad as a tip.

Frannie relaxed into his arms after a day of shopping, partying and sightseeing, her eyes heavier than they’d ever been. Outside the city limits, the paparazzi weren’t tailing them as long as they kept their disguises up. As she floated off to sleep, she rather enjoyed feeling like a space alien hiding as a housewife. Elvis said her big glasses made it look like she had owl eyes.

She woke up at the end of the taxi ride, only to discover they hadn’t arrived at the hotel. In fact, they weren’t even in the city anymore. The door opened and Elvis offered out his hand to her in the pale moonlight, helping her step out onto the dunes of alabaster sand, glittering before them like jewels. She was mesmerized, listening to the gulls, the waves whispering up the smooth shore.

They kicked off their shoes and trod through the sand, hand in hand, racing to the water together. She kicked a splash up, soaking his silly sweater.

“Oh that’s how you’re going to play this? And here I thought you’d be thrilled I brought you to the beach.”

Frannie laughed, lifting her skirt and kicking up more water, sea spraying like diamonds. He shielded himself and chased after her, pursuing her playfully. Like a persistent lover, he pushed her further out into the ocean. She looked back at him and he tackled her with laughter in his eyes, sending them both into the warm surf. It was hard to think that back home, winter was already in full swing, freezing the roads. Palm Springs felt like an eternal, delightful party.

Elvis swept her up in his arms, holding her body to his chest. Their clothes were stripped and tossed haphazardly on the shore. Nothing but stars and milky moonlight watched over them on the desolate beach.

“Fuck it,” Elvis smirked.

That night, he made love to her there in the languid waves, lacing her legs around his sturdy waist, pushing in and out of her with the ocean’s movement. He made her see sparks, fireworks behind her lids. His skin tasted like salt and his voice was melted chocolate as he rumbled to her deeply, telling her all the things she’d ever wanted to hear. How much he adored her, how he was going to take care of her, how he’d leave her wanting only for him. How he’d absolutely ruin her for any other man. Francesca was his, all his, and he never let her forget it for a moment. He could be jealous with her, even with no one else was around.

Now in bed, luxuriating back in her apartment, watching Elvis make his way over to her across the rose-colored bed sheets, she gave herself fully to him. Any barrier she’d had in place had long since cleaved. She had in herself a vulnerability that she hadn’t wanted to share with anyone until him.

He brushed her hair away from her face. Frannie closed her eyes, keeping her mind from wandering. They had to start shooting again in a week and she had to convince herself that she was ready. There was no stopping the march of time, pushing her closer and closer to the set, the dressing room, the makeup mirror. The cameras, the lights, the dazzling smiles and the constant maintenance of her best self. It was exhausting and she hadn't had a chance to really take a break from filming when it was all about to start again.

There were bites on her hook now, but for how long? In the wake of her scandal, what directors would continue to work with her? For his part, Elvis didn't want to keep making mistakes that would land them both in hot water, but wasn't the mere act of seeing each other sloppy enough to tarnish her reputation? It wasn't exactly the most ladylike of circumstances, sleeping with a rock 'n' roll star out of wedlock - though maybe she'd earn some theatrical credibility considering Elvis was playing roles now - serious roles! He'd moved her to tears with his performance, and now he had to do it all over again.

Frannie trusted him. He hadn't stopped practicing either. She'd caught him a time or two, especially when he'd been dropped off by the boys, when he'd seemed a bit... inebriated. It wasn’t like him. On top of that, it was out of her comfort zone to try to manage a man like that, a man who didn't consider himself her permanent property yet, as much as she wanted him to.

Watching him now, drifting away after another day spent together, his face resting peacefully with such a sweet expression... she wondered if he'd be okay with making it official. They certainly made a dazzling couple, she thought happily as she clasped his hand and listened to him mumble in his sleep while she tenderly kissed the back of his palm. Never before had her heart been so soft for another. It frightened her.

It was as if something outside of her was forcing her. An existential force so far beyond her control that she was powerless to accept the endless, amorous feedback. She longed to be with him, to hold him. To smell his cologne on her sheets, to feel the rasp of his five o' clock shadow against her inner thighs as he woke her in the morning with his tongue. He was a delightful lover. He gave more than he took, but he took a lot and a lot. He wanted her always.

Her heart belonged to him completely, and maybe it was a foolish thing to give so much of herself to someone else. But what if it wasn't? What if this was the best decision she could ever make?

Frannie curled up against him, turning her back so that she fell seamlessly into his embrace. He reached for her, tucked her into his lap, and groaned contentedly against her back before settling down with her. She slept harder than the dead, undisturbed in his arms. The mornings they slept together, waking up was like meeting the sunrise in her bed. No cold sweats, no spikes of fear that a stranger had broken in and was lurking somewhere, hiding in a closet, waiting for the chance to strike. She blinked at the honeyed light filtering in through the curtains, painting the room pink and bathing Elvis in gold.

"Mornin', beautiful," he purred, his eyes still closed. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Well, good morning," she said right back, acutely aware of her morning breath. But he didn't care. He took her in his arms and kissed her. He cradled her neck and the back of her head, such a deep kiss for a morning greeting. He did enjoy a nice playful romp to start the day. He always woke up hard as a rock and rubbed himself against her with purpose. Sometimes he turned her onto her back and made frantic love to her, other times he pushed her panties aside and slipped into her from behind, spooning her and thrusting into her hastily.

Now he pet her lazily, breathing softly into her ear as he caressed her arms and neck, kissing her shoulders and ears. Fran shivered and felt his smile as he pulled her into him, turning her over so that she fell back into her sleeping position. He held her with her back against his chest, his excited breaths rising.

Elvis was sleeping in just his briefs, which he now pulled down to reveal his engorged shaft. She felt its vibrant spring as it touched her ass. She gasped and he thrust, beginning to rub skin against skin. She often slept in just a slip and panties, which seemed to drive him wild. Elvis often couldn't keep his hands off her, he could almost be a bit exhausting–literally–with how often he wanted her. He was insatiable and it made her so too. She couldn't sleep without longing for his body against hers. Recently, she used one of his shirts as a pillowcase and was completely unashamed if he noticed.

His voice was hoarse with sleep, but his voice was still velvet, telling her gently, "Spread your legs for me, sweetheart." And she would tremble and do as he asked, parting her thighs and guiding him inside. He hissed as he found her wet and so yielding. She was still slick from their previous tryst the night before. When she received him like a dream, he rewarded her with a self-indulgent grunt. A deeply masculine sound that left him without a preamble for utterance. He was reduced to a puddle at times as he handled her, immersing himself completely.

Elvis' hands cupped her breasts. His mouth was on her neck. His breath ruffled her baby hair. He kissed her and she arched, pushing further into his lap, taking him deeper. He was buried in her, gripping and shuddering, trying not to pull out too much. She knew his signs when he was close to orgasm. His movements would become shaky and discordant, no rhythm. He'd lose himself and have to go ramrod straight, tight as a bowstring, ready to fire at the slightest twitch. Which was why she loved to move her hips and milk it out of him. The rush of satisfaction was enough to make her laugh wickedly while he came helplessly, moaning and raging at her for taking it out of his control.

"You're a little vixen, Francesca."

She rather enjoyed this power over him. And he seemed to subtly enjoy giving it to her.

There were times when he could hold out and others when he seemed almost shy and inexperienced, spilling his seed quickly. She welcomed him in any way. Soft, hard, slow and sensual, rough and fast. He made love to her on her kitchen counter, in the back of his Cadillac. A recent favorite had been at the Cabrillo Marine Aquarium, after Presley had bought the venue for a private viewing. Even before they had made love in the swirling, waving, haunting blue all around them, she had been in awe of the world around her. He loved her starry-eyed dazzlement at all the things he had to show her. He admitted to her that the dates he was taking her on weren't typical of what he usually did. He'd been worried that the places would be too juvenile for the models and actresses he usually took out. But Frannie was different.

"You have this..." he'd rolled his hands, tucked a few more Swedish fish into his right cheek, "whimsy about you. Like you're still fascinated by things." He laughed, as if he always wanted to keep things light, as if he was afraid the things he said would be taken seriously, even though that was all she did.

Frannie saw depth in him where others saw only shallowness. She hated to see the lineup of movies that his idiotic, money-hungry agent seemed to be putting him in all the time. Elvis admitted to her that after this, Colonel Parker wanted him to star in Kissin' Cousins 2. She rolled her eyes. The pay might be nice, but the premise was trivial, thoughtless pandering fit for television, not the big screen. The first movie had been embarrassing enough, critically panned. Of course, it'd made her money back in ticket sales and then some, but that wasn't the point. She didn't want to burst his bubble or put out his flame. He seemed gung-ho to star in anything, but he seemed to share her disappointment that it was just another romantic comedy with a high, high focus on chemistry between the lead and the actress who hadn't even been cast yet. Frannie wasn't going to audition for it, not that Dominick would have put her name in for anything like that. Besides, she was thinking of returning to music and touring soon.

After another round of passionate lovemaking, they managed to sneak out of bed and start a decent day. She liked to shower in the morning and he liked to pretend he could make eggs without burning them. But even bad food tasted better when someone else was cooking it. She looked at him with concern when he smothered his eggs in steak sauce anyway. He didn't catch her horrified expression, not that he cared. He liked what he liked, and she loved that about him.

Eating across from him now, she enjoyed this domestic routine they had. She didn't have her makeup on or her hair done yet, but he still looked over at her, his eyes shining. He usually made trips up here every weekend, but now that filming was about to begin, he was slowly moving back to his home in Los Angeles, insisting on staying with her in Vegas until then. She didn't mind, but lately the paparazzi had been gathering outside her apartment in droves, and sometimes there wasn't a moment of peace. It could be whole days, rotating shifts, desperate shutterbugs ready to pounce. Seeing Elvis leave her apartment would seal the deal and they would have to go public. But now she began to wonder, would that be such a bad thing?

Every moment he spent with Frannie was like a dream, too good to be true. It was time they went public. He didn't give a damn what the Colonel had to say about it. This was his life, after all, and Francesca was going to be a part of it, whether his meddling agent wanted it or not. Colonel Parker would just have to get used to it—to her.

Given the choice between Francesca and continuing this constricting agency with the Colonel, he leaned toward her. He could find another, better agent. It wouldn't be too difficult, one who had his best interests at heart as a growing actor, a budding talent on the screen. One who actually let him go back to touring. Parker was too busy scheduling Elvis for schlock. Although he hadn't even bothered to take a single call from his manager about one since they started filming.

In fact, his heavy-handed agent was more than pissed off that filming had to go on again, putting a new formulaic film on hold for that much longer. Not to mention his proximity to Frannie, whom Parker seemed to loathe for no reason at all. And, horror of horrors, Parker'd also learned of Frannie's brief stint as a burlesque dancer. Elvis was utterly intrigued. He knew that the sway of her hips, though well practiced, had a tantalizing edge that came from somewhere more carnal than simple dance lessons. After all, she boasted of being self-taught. And Elvis himself would have thought it a waste if she'd found herself in a dull office job with a decent salary but utter mediocrity. Worse, she could have worked in a factory and had a foot torn off by an ill-managed machine that she was forced to clean as a new employee. Yes, a crazed club patron could have tried to harm her, but Frannie had told them there was no one-on-one interaction. The ladies were always escorted to their rides at the end of the night. Gifts were always inspected before being given to the dancers. Tips were washed and cleaned for any illegal drugs. And Frannie, for the most part, did more singing than dancing on stage. It wasn't as seedy as the media hype tried to make it out to be.

Soon enough, the headlines about her sordid past started dying down. She'd played her cards right in not folding. And she'd gained a lot of support from a new audience, the liberationists, after her confrontation with the reporter. Women chanted her name and joined dance troupes to show their support. It was a new wave of female freedom, and in many eyes, Frannie was helping to lead it.

All the more reason for the Colonel to call him, absolutely furious with the news.

"I want you to drop that broad right now. She's bad news."

Elvis waved him off. "She's been nothing but good to me." He smoked less (mostly because Frannie absolutely loathed the smell and said it was bad for the cat), used less. Partied less. He wanted to be a better man for her. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even looked at another woman. She had his full attention, front and center. She dazzled him, she delighted him. There was never a dull moment with her.

He could hear the Colonel burning through a cigar on the other end of the line. "You know how I feel. I can't change your mind any more than I can make you see reason. You'll have to learn that lesson yourself, Presley. But this refliming. This is inappropriate. You two need to make this quick, you've got bigger and better things to do." He inhaled, paper sizzling. "You know and I know, we both just want what's best for you. After this, let's take a break. You can't let everybody get used to you as an actor, they'll forget you've got albums to sell. I'll dig out some old material we haven't released yet!"

Elvis completely failed to see the logic in this. He was worth more than ever and had fan mail clogging his mailbox every day. Fans would sometimes wait outside his house to catch a glimpse of him. It was unnerving but flattering all the same.

"We'll see," he relented a bit. Actually, he wouldn't mind a return to music. But he didn't want to release old material, nor did he want any more movie tie-in albums. He wanted to tour and do new songs, he missed it desperately. Things were less rigid on stage, even if they were more... critical. Being live, he couldn't stand to falter. One wrong note, one wrong string and the audience would lose its enthusiasm. At least that's how it could feel. In reality, he'd plucked the wrong chord a few times and the audience still wouldn't stop going wild for him. He was their infallible heartthrob, despite the shortcomings he tried so hard to hide. It was comforting in a way. Seeing as he could be so scrutinized on the big screen, picked apart frame by frame. But this time he'd truly given it his all. Gambling on Your Love had been a passion project. He had poured so much of himself into it that even after the filming was over, he still felt attached to it.

Elvis was thrilled to be back on set. Francesca, however, seemed less so. He could tell from their brief morning passing by the craft table that she was tired. The bounce in her step was mostly still there but her eyes were weary. No one noticed—no one but him. Eddie smiled. He hugged her, tears in his sentimental eyes. He couldn't believe that they were all together again and that he was being called upon to return his doffer skills. He snapped his fingers like a pop gun, pointing at Elvis and reminding him, "You still owe me dinner! My mama makes a mean Mexican cornbread, Presley. Don't run out on me."

"How does this weekend sound?" He asked, watching Francesca go through the motions on the set. They put her in the exact same makeup. The lighting had been fussed over extensively. Everything had to match the original film. The tone, the brightness. If anything was out of place, it would be glaringly obvious on release day.

Eddie seemed to gape at the idea. "This—this weekend. Or next?"

Elvis chuckled. "This one, preferably." He wanted to spend the whole next weekend with Frannie if he couldn't make the most of this one. Besides, he wanted them to go public by then. To hell with the Colonel's advice. Frannie was a nice girl, not at all the "trouble" that his manager warned him about. She hadn't been known to date anyone, let alone her co-star. This was certainly a first. Would it be scandalous or celebrated? Only time would tell. He was just so tired of the sneaking around. Their involvement was nothing to hide. He wanted exclusivity with her. He saw the way men looked at her at charity galas and press junkets. She was desirable and, as far as the public knew, still available.

He wouldn't stand for it much longer. Admittedly, he could get a little jealous, especially of her. He'd never felt such strong emotions for anyone before. Love was already changing him. He was willing to be selfish with her so that everyone would know—Francesca Ferrara was Elvis Presley's girl.

She had a small solo scene to shoot today before they could squeeze in a scene where they chatted over coffee. It was going to be frustrating to change costumes so often for the little bits that were cut out. Elvis still couldn't get over the fact that the movie had been destroyed in the first place. Who would do such a thing? And on top of that, Francesca's whole apartment had been turned upside down.

His heart sank when she told him that. Something terrible could have happened to her—well, it already had, but someone could have been lurking in her apartment, ready to pounce. He was a mess, thinking about her all alone without him. He stayed over as often as he could, coming home to crash from time to time. More than anything else, he wanted her to be okay.

Watching her now, sashaying back to her dressing room, he thought she might need a little loving. As he casually followed her, he was stopped by the Colonel, who had taken him by surprise. Lately, appearing on the set was not something that was par for the course for him. He usually preferred to stay at home, but here, he told Elvis with smug satisfaction, "I'm here to make sure this ship sails nice and smooth." He waved his hand and grinned. "It just seems like the security around here is lacking, what with two hot shot celebrities in the studio. One armed guard seems a bit careless to me."

He always said something. Never had Elvis met a man who liked the sound of his own voice more. The things about Parker that impressed Elvis at 20 now irritated him at 30. The Colonel could talk for hours about nothing. Where to get the best beef jerky in Maplewood, Ohio, what kind of primer to use if you're doing a job outside, his favorite breed of dog. He would just go on and on, but he was the kind of guy who would cut you off the moment you started to contribute to the conversation, if one could call being talked to a conversation.

"Listen, you know I'm going to need a bigger slice to tolerate this kind of situation. I had to settle for a motel instead of a hotel." He gritted his teeth and threw up his hand. His sleeve glanced up at his wrists for a brief second and Elvis wasn't really sure why he noticed it or why it struck him so hard, but at that moment he looked straight at the hairy expanse of flesh and spotted a trio of three deep scars, thin and scabby, already well on their way to healing. It almost looked like the vengeful slash of a very angry cat. He wondered what the Colonel was doing, trying to pet hostile kittens.

But he didn't ask, he wanted to get out of here and join Francesca in her dressing room while he still had the chance. She'd disappeared around the corner, and when he caught up with her again, she was already waiting for him, peering from behind the door with a wry smile, her eyes darting to make sure he wasn't being followed. This was a dangerous game. Maybe they wanted to be noticed?

They were in her familiar room, where they'd shared that heated kiss all those months ago. He'd only grown more intoxicated with her. She would ruin him, already had.

She grabbed him, pulling him onto her with a smoldering kiss, and they hastily made love on the narrow little couch that squeaked obnoxiously loud in the small room. She laughed and shushed him from behind her index finger, as if he was the one making the noise. Still, he apologized and bent over her, wrapping her in his arms so he could thrust quickly and gently, trying not to disturb the springs. It worked, but the consistency of his hips moving shallowly and lightly made her cover her mouth, muffling her cries into her palm to keep from making too much noise.

Maybe he was being careless, or maybe she was getting the impression that he wanted to take their relationship to the next level.

"Chess..." He cooed, brushing her hair back as they lingered for a moment in this quiet afterglow. "Don't you think it's time we let everyone in on our little secret?"

Her eyes glittered and she smiled wryly, shrugging her shoulders, straightening her clothes and smoothing out the wrinkles.

"Don't you think I'd love that? I really would, Press. But do you really think that's the best thing to do?" When she looked up at him so expectantly, he knew she wasn't asking a question. She was waiting for his resolve to harden and for him to join her. She wanted him to finally see for himself. Not that he was in need of any more convincing than the sight of her joy in their union.

"More'n anything," he told her earnestly. There was a knock on her door and his eyes widened. They froze, glancing between each other and back to the door. Giggles ensued.

Knock. Knock.

"Ms. Frannie? You're up in five. Would you like me to powder you again?"

Elvis looked over at Francesca's love-blessed face. Her lipstick was smeared all over her mouth. Her hair had come loose from its pins and braids. She was radiant. Glowing and well tended to. Her bosom still rose and fell hastily. At the make-up girl's innocent question, Frannie laughed, patted Elvis' chest and said without looking away, "Yes, that would be best. I look a little disheveled after changing, I'll be out in a few minutes.

She hadn't changed at all, still wearing the high-waisted red pencil skirt and tight white blouse that was Margot's casino work outfit. She threw on her clothes and stepped out, but not before telling Elvis, "I'll see you later.” Finishing his heart off with a wink.

Francesca couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

Elvis was on a bender with the boys, a safe one, he assured her. He had his training wheels on, just for fun, since he was the designated driver. Mostly because he didn't trust any of them to drive his beauty around, especially drunk or high.

From the studio, the moment she'd left the dressing room, her face powdered and her hair sprayed back in place, she felt reinvigorated, ready to kick it into high gear and strut her stuff on stage even better than before. She'd give it her all, she'd give it 100 and 10 percent. She practiced her smile, her laugh, relying on a bit of method acting. When Josephine laughed at Jake's jokes, Frannie imagined all the times Elvis had brought her to tears with his gags and impressions. He made her laugh like no one else could. When they kissed on screen, there was more passion in it than ever before. It was palpable. Noticeable.

Cassandra watched her knowingly. More worryingly, in the unlit niche behind the director's chair, by the glowing exit sign, white smoke curling from a cigarette, Colonel Parker glared at them daggers.

She'd never met a man so malicious. He couldn't be proud of his client, because that would mean Elvis was right. That by choosing to star in Gambling on Your Love, even at a lower payout, he'd made the right choice. His name was even credited under hers. It was too much to bear for Parker that because of her, he'd attained even more success. All his merits shone in this one, and his vengeful manager was steaming pissed, watching them dance with marked disdain. She couldn't escape his gaze and the mark it had left on her.

Later that night, Francesca shuddered as she pulled back the curtain to peer down several stories to the well-lit street. Bennington had coaxed a stray dog out of the shadows to scratch behind his ear. But aside from parked cars and the cheerful doorman, no one else was outside. It was late in the evening, and a chill was setting in. She huddled in her robe and tied the curtains, telling herself she wouldn't look again. No one was watching her, and if they were, her anxious glances at the street would only be a lure.

She refused to let anyone have the power of fear over her. Its influence was too great. She wouldn't be confined to her home or forced to look behind her every step, checking under her bed and in her closet for the boogeyman.

She thought of the words artlessly painted on her walls. The attack had been deliberate. She just knew it. But the police weren't going to investigate and she didn't want Elvis dealing with the fallout.

Dominick called, but when she answered, she almost immediately regretted it. "Frannie?" He asked. He was quiet even though he was calling her. He took a long moment to answer, finally telling her, "Frannie... why didn't you tell me about the dancing? Do you think I would have cared?"

She smiled fondly and moved the phone to her left ear. "Aww, Nick, I just... I didn't want to burden you with it. I think I knew you wouldn't have been upset with me."

More silence, static clicking on the receiver. "Of course, kid. I just wish you would have trusted me with the information. I wouldn't have let anyone bully you over it. We would have released it in a really upscale way, maybe even found you a movie role as a burlesque dancer to ease the news." He laughed, a fatherly, warm chortle that soothed her. Frannie made a mental note to call her real dad; she missed him. She also missed Brooklyn.

Frannie could practically hear Dominick rubbing his chin, though, thinking he was smart in that moment and keeping that idea close to the vest. "We'll work on that idea later." Agents usually weren't the ones to pitch ideas, just the salaries.

"Dominick..." She tutted, switching the phone to the other ear and straightening the tangled cord. "Hey, as long as I have you on the line. I just want to say I... really appreciate you being such a decent guy." Her jaw had dropped when she heard how much of a cut Colonel Parker got out of every movie. It was downright disrespectful to give a celebrity with as much star power as Elvis Presley the run around with his money. But for some odd reason, every time Francesca brought up the subject of the Colonel being a psychopath, Elvis brushed it off or even found ways to justify his agent's actions. She sensed genuine irritation behind his rebuttals to her qualms, but it was as if his agent had this personal grip on him, a leash. He tightened the slack with delight watching how Elvis jumped to perform.

"Hmph. Where's all this coming from?" Dominick coughed. She could hear the chair in his study creaking as he characteristically kicked his feet up on his desk. He delegated all paperwork to his secretary anyway; his mahogany import desk was more of a glorified nap station. Part cafeteria, part coffee table.

"Just some passing thoughts. You know how tough this business can be for young girls just starting out. You've always been nothing but respectful to me."

He chuckled. "You were nothing but a nice girl. I just wanted to give you a chance. One like you only comes along, hmmm... once a century or so. Beauty. Talent. Charisma. You'll outshine them all, Frannie. You're my shooting star. And the mark you're gonna leave is gonna flip this town upside down."

"Aww, Dominick."

"I mean it. You're one in a million. You know Presley's lucky to be working with you, sweetheart."

"Did you call me just to check in?"

"Is that a bad thing?"

It was exactly the kind of tenderness Francesca needed right now. More than anything. She drew her painted toes up into her new, off-color sofa—it just wasn't the same blushing champagne, this one was more of a dusty purple. It was pretty, just not the same.

Much of the furniture in her apartment was different. She still couldn't shake the uneasy feeling of being alone. Her curtains were always drawn, her eyes occasionally glancing at the door and the windows. Every sound, every creak in the walls made her cautious. Her heart would race and she would have to remind herself that everything was all right. The lunatic had sadly only wanted to mar her reputation, not her.

Finally, Francesca whispered gratefully, "Thank you for checking on me. But I promise, I'm fine. I really am. You need to get back to your family. Didn't Gracie just have her first holiday play?"

"You should have seen her, Frannie. Maybe show business is in the blood, because that girl is destined for stardom!" He went on and on about how she stole the show, how she broke into her own solo and the kindergarten teacher had to drag her off the stage. He couldn't have sounded more proud.

"Take care of yourself, Dominick. And come visit when you get a chance."

"You only have a few more weeks of filming left, right?" More like months, but sure. "The red carpet premiere, you can count me in. I need to feel some California sun!"

That sun came sooner than she expected, cresting over the hills and turning the frost a warm orange. Spring was already here, and filming had been... rocky.

Francesca always gave it her all. But on this cursed set, she was prevented from giving her best at almost every turn.

"Ms. Ferrara, I'm so sorry, but we're all out of Red Coral 5 lipstick, we'll have to order a duplicate, but it may take a few days to arrive."

“Oh no, how did another pair of heels split at the base? Cheap ass shoes…”

“The horse is feeling too fidgety today. We might have to just cut that up in post.”

So many problems kept popping up, and it was just so... so convenient that none of these problems seemed to affect her co-star in any way. The same co-star who was getting another paycheck for doing less than half the leg work. Most of the time he was lazing around all day joking with the crew while waiting for his little scenes.

It was just this bitter thought that she couldn't let go of. And they had not gone public yet. She kicked under the surface to stay afloat. No one seemed to notice that she was putting in overtime.

Elvis could've been waiting on her to make the announcement. He took her to a nice restaurant the other night and neither of them bothered to hide what they were doing. They mingled with the public, casually answering questions about the movie. Their pictures were taken and as the paparazzi began to gather at the buzz of their arrival, the questions they shouted were playfully amplified.

"Oh! Oh! Elvis! Are the rumors true, are you and your co-star romantically involved?" A skinny whelp shouted, sprinting after them with fury, his hand on his hat and camera.

Frannie laughed. She looked back at the crowd cheekily as she and Elvis walked arm in arm down the sidewalk. "Do you believe all the rumors you hear?" She had glanced at Elvis, but he was looking ahead. Was he worried? When he met her gaze, she couldn't read his smile.

"The fans have seen you two together! Before. You're working on a movie together. You've been spotted on vacation in the mountains. You've been to Palm Springs. And now you're having dinner together. Is this a friendly outing or something more? Ms. Ferrara? Any comments?”

Elvis was always so charismatic in his dismissals. He knew how to sway a crowd. "I appreciate the interest, folks. Francesca and I are working on some exciting projects together, and I'm sure you'll see the results soon. But, you know, some things are meant to be kept a little private. Now, if you'll excuse us, we're in a bit of a hurry to catch a taxi. Thank you."

She wondered how much longer they would be kept a little private.

Elvis kind of liked these secret rendezvous in the dressing rooms. Usually they could have a private moment to themselves without much disturbance. Frannie knew public outings took a lot out of him; recently, no matter where they went, they were mobbed by fans.

She had started making a list of who was closest to them, taking into account who might have the desire to ruin her career. She suspected that all the things that were happening to her on the set, the movie being cut, the ripped dress, the broken shoes, the allergic reaction, Eddie almost being choked to death, the pin in the lipstick, were the work of someone who wanted to mess with her. Unnerve her to her core. She admitted to Elvis that she thought whoever was messing with her on the set could be the same person who ransacked her apartment. She went on to say in a shaky falter, "Whoever it is, I could be walking right by them every day."

She wouldn't say much about who she thought it was, except to remark that he might not believe her.

Nonsense. He would believe anything she had to say on the matter—because he, too, was convinced. It was too coincidental to be all in her head. She was still reeling from the intruder and subsequent invasion of her privacy, scared beyond belief. She mumbled in her sleep about closing the door to keep her cat from getting out and to "take anything you want, just go, please". It broke his heart, hearing her in such distress, and there was nothing he could do but hold her tight in the night to help her get through each day. He just wanted her to feel whole again. She even whispered to him, without repetition, letting him hear her indecision just once, that she was afraid the mental strain was just too much and she needed to take a break.

Francesca had one more scene. The duet. It had been flawless the first time. They'd both been wide-eyed, panting, glistening with sweat and pride, completely in sync, step by step, beat by beat. They were on fire. And that's why he was confident that she would do it again with feeling, maybe even more than before. They were so close to crossing the finish line that Elvis could practically feel the glide of the red carpet under his loafers. Or maybe he'd turn up and stunt in a pair of white cowboy boots.

Today the set buzzed with chaotic energy as Elvis prepared for another day of reshoots. Amidst the whirlwind of crew, white coffee and donuts, Francesca Ferrara, dressed in a stunning period costume, rushed onto the set, her kohl-rimmed eyes wide with anguish as she clutched a glossy magazine with trembling hands. She had been crying. Streaks of black mascara ran down her beautiful cheeks.

"Elvis, w-what is this?" Frannie's voice, usually so calm, cracked as she thrust the magazine towards his chest, like the barrel of a loaded revolver. He wasn't sure what was happening, but her dishevelment made him uneasy. She was more than upset.

He the tightly wound magazine. The headline screamed from the page, "Elvis Presley's Secret Set Frustrations Revealed!”

Las Vegas, Nevada – Elvis Presley frustrated with needy, debauched co-star. Set insiders say the heartthrob wants to ease his latest gal pal down gently as he’s got another dame waiting in the wings back home. Sources say it’s serious and Presley is on edge.

Confusion flashed across Elvis' face as he scanned the damning article, his expression darkening with each word. The piece, which was a complete fabrication, painted a distorted picture of him being disgruntled to be back on set with Frannie for reshoots, insinuating that she was the source of the trouble.

"No. Frannie. No. I never said any of this. It's a hit piece," Elvis tried to explain, his deep voice a calming force, but just as she looked ready to blink away the tears, he could see he was losing her to her own maelstrom. He had to remember that fake press was old hat to him but it wasn't to her. Whereas it was easy for him to wave off such nonsense, through her own experience, Frannie was just now starting to realize the danger of taking gossip rags as gospel. "Someone is just trying to stir up trouble. You know I'd never say that. Frannie, you've got to believe me."

But Frannie, lost in a whirlwind of emotion, was already buckling. The weight of the false accusations bore down on her shoulders like an impossible load.

"I can't take it anymore, Elvis. I thought we were in this together and now..." She covered her mouth in horror. "Is this why you haven't gone public about me?" Without waiting for him to reply, she stormed off the set, leaving Elvis bewildered and helpless amidst the clamor of the film crew, who gawked at him with their mouths agape.

Cassandra did too, but after a moment's delay she snapped her fingers. "Everyone back to your places! The show must go on!" She slid down from her director's chair. "Eventually..."

As Frannie retreated into the quiet corridors of the studio, tears welled up. She found solace in a secluded corner, away from prying eyes, where the fabricated words echoed in her mind. The hurt ran deep, piercing the façade of composure she usually wore so well.

Her mind raced with thoughts of betrayal, questioning the trust she had placed in the man she thought was her ally. The magazine, now crumpled in her hands, felt like a damning testament to the fragility of their collaboration. She had given everything to this project, invested not only in the character, but in the camaraderie they had built on the set.

Frustration and anger bubbled up inside her. She couldn't understand why someone would concoct such lies, tarnishing not only her reputation, but their work together. In her haze of emotion, she made a decision: she couldn't tolerate this relentless attack on her character.

Elvis, realizing the gravity of the situation, tried to follow her, his genuine attempts to explain drowned out by the chaos of the set. Every step felt like wading through a sea of faces, desperately trying to get a word in to make it clear that this was all a ruse. Yet, frustration mounted as he couldn't reach her in time.

Later, under the harsh sunlight away from the set, Elvis sought out Dominick, Frannie's agent, his frustration heavy in his voice.

"Dominick, what the hell is going on?" Elvis demanded, desperately trying to make sense of the unraveling situation.

Dominick sighed, acknowledging the gravity of the moment. "Elvis, Frannie's in bad shape. She's upset about the interview and can't handle the pressure."

"But it's all lies! We need her for the movie," Elvis protested, his frustration reaching its peak.

"She's out, Elvis. She's pulling the plug. Thinks it's too much," Dominick revealed. It sounded like he was wrestling with her decision on this, too.

Elvis, confronted with the harsh reality, felt the fabricated article's impact. "I need to talk to her."

But Frannie, oblivious to the truth, had already vanished from the set and hadn’t returned his calls, leaving Elvis to grapple with the fallout of a malicious setup that threatened to unravel their collaboration as he sped over to her apartment.

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