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#we were betrayed 💔

theyluvkarolina · 17 days

Text

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐒

· . ୨୧⭒๋࣭ ⭑ ` ` who is that girl? ` ` ⊹ ‧₊˚

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃?: Yes!

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ୨୧ Secrets are amazing between two people. But people can’t help but wonder who that girl is with Lance, and why she randomly shows up every so often. Well, maybe it’s time for this secret is to be shared.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ୨୧ Lance Stroll x Military!Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ୨୧ mentions of the military, online hate (Hate and Lance are a package deal) but nothing serious. Also, the time frame is 2023 but photos may not be accurate!

𝐀/𝐍 ୨୧ i have little to no knowledge of the military so i tried my best! I decided to make Y/N one of the 1,200 Canadian troops deployed to Latvia. Lots and lots of love to you all 🩷 I did some research and found mixed responses about text messaging while in the military but for the sake of the fic, we will make it able to text friends, family and be on socials! Not my longest fic, but definitely one of my favorites.

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lance_stroll ✔︎

liked by astonmartin, y/n_l/n, fernandoalo_offical and others

lance_stroll not a bad race day! glad to have some support despite the time difference 😊

2,310 comments

username1 THERE SHE IS AGAIN

username2 lancey strolly has a secret… and it’s not about him being on top

→ username3 being on top?? 😏 → username2 enough.

username4 no bc the way she comes on his socials and then just leaves again??

→ username5 maybe they are a on and off couple 🤷 → username6 no bc it’s soooo fishy?? → username7 i wouldn’t be surprised if she’s using lance for his money like all the other wags are → username8 or… or just maybe… she has a job and her life doesn’t revolve around her boyfriend 😱 😱 → username9 @ username7 bold of you to assume that they go after money as if the drivers don’t go after looks 💀

username10 does literally ANYONE know who in the world this girl is?? she’s been with lance since he started but then he posts her like a couple times a year and we never seen her in the paddock

→ username11 managed to find a old photo lance and some girl when lance first joined williams and lance had he tagged! apparently, her name is Y/N L/N but because he account is private, we don’t know much else about this maybe being the same girl. → username12 im sorry you are just sound STALKERISH. if i was his gf like y/n rn, i wouldn’t wanna show my accounts or who i am either.

Twitter

iMessages

Twitter

Instagram

lance_stroll ✔︎

liked by estebanocon, y/n_l/n, astonmartin and others

lance_stroll the real prize of montreal this year 🏆 My girlfriend definitely gave me the support i needed this weekend after our time spent apart. For everyone wondering, this is my amazing girlfriend Y/N who does the unthinkable. The reason why you barely see us together is because Y/N works as a engineer in the military. I always miss her, but her support means the world to me (whether it be online calls or seeing her for such a short amount of time 😅) and I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for her support and belief in me since we were kids. Love you, and i cannot wait for the big day 🩷

3,495 comments

username13 OKAY LANCE “HARD LAUNCH” STROLL

username14 SHES A MILITARY GIRL

→ username15 no bc a being in the military and being a engineer is so badass?? → y/n_l/n stop im blushing so hard rn 🥹🥹

username16 i love how everyone is ignoring that lance just announced they are getting married in such a subtle way.

fernandoalo_official such a nice couple 😊 can’t wait for the wedding!

→ username17 WEDDING??? → username18 WTF DO YOU MEAN WEDDING??

landonorris ✔︎ FERNANDO KNOWS BUT THE REST OF US DON’T???

→ estebanocon ✔︎ we feel betrayed over here 😞 → mickshumacher ✔︎ very hurt. → lance_stroll ✔︎ whoops..? → landonorris ✔︎ DONT YOU “whoops” US YOUNG MAN??? → lance_stroll ✔︎ i’m literally a year older than you??? → landonorris ✔︎ you get what i mean.

y/n_l/n AHHHHH LANCEY STROLLEY :((

→ username19 LANCEY STROLLEY WILL MAKE HIS WAY ON TOP!!

y/n_l/n sir lancelot 💔 🥹

y/n_l/n i’m so happy rn you don’t get it 🩷 it sucks how different our lives are because of our jobs but i’m so glad i have you 🫶

Liked by lance_stroll!

→ lance_stroll ✔︎ right back at you 🫶 → username20 what if i started crying rn.

username21 THE GF REVEAL!!!

→ lance_stroll ✔︎ *fiance now :)

username22 she served. literally.

username23 the way her being on and off rn makes so much more sense…

username24 okay… they are pretty cute..

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓: “Hi girl. This just randomly popped in my head so I’ve decided to ask if you can write it since I love your works.Lance x military fiance, no one knows their together expect his father and he just randomly soft launches every now and again when she’s home and it always catches people off guard. Anyways she’s been gone for like a year or two and she’s finally getting to come home for a while so she decided to surprise him at his home race and a video gets leaked or sm and then he hard launches. This could be a mix of smau and real life if you want. Thanks. I can't wait to read the charles x ballerina fic your writing. Your fics never disappoint 🫶” - Anon

#☆ﾟ user ↳ theyluvkarolina ◝#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smau #formula one x you #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll #formula 1 x reader #lance stroll x you #lance stroll imagine #lance stroll x y/n #lance stroll fluff #aston martin f1 #aston martin #ls18

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me-writes-prompts · 3 days

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:-“You’re not the one I fell in love with, darling.” Heartbreaking prompts-:

(Also, tag me if you guys write these ahhhh. Light warning: talks about trauma/addiction. Proceed with caution.)

By @me-writes-prompts

“It’s not fair, is it? To find out that you fell in love with someone’s one of many masks.”

The slowly drifting apart without realizing before it’s too late.

^^ “What changed?” “Us. You and me did. And there is nothing we can do about it now.” (Fuck.)

One of them resorting to substances and the other one finds out one day, wondering if they were the reason that caused it.

“You promised. You promised to come back, and you never did.”

“It wasn’t always like this, right? Tell me we weren’t always so selfish, not caring for the other, not being the other’s safe space, not going to someone else for the comfort we were supposed to provide to each other.” “We weren’t, I know we weren’t, but we’ve changed. And that’s…that’s okay.” “No, it’s not. Because I loved you.”

One of them betraying the other.

^^ “So I meant nothing to you all along. I was just one of the pawns in your game, isn’t it?”

“I’ve forgotten how to love you because I don’t even know you anymore.” 💔

“It’s easy to love someone you’ve always known, they said, but what if the version that you knew of them isn’t there anymore?”

“We’re broken.” “We always were.”

“Did you ever love me, or was it all just a facade?” “I loved you once, it wasn’t true love, but it was love.”

One of them dies, and it’s not the same anymore.

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f1version · 1 year

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SOME GUY ★ GR63

pairing: george russell x fem!reader (she/her)

summary: You and George decide to start soft launching your relationship after your birthday.

or this request

note: here’s some shirtless guy cute social media lmaoo xx

yourusername

Liked by georgerussell63, mercedesamgf1 and 173,728 others

yourusername happy b-day to me! <3

view comments

georgerussell63 ew aries

yourusername george PR is looking for you

lewishamilton have an amazing birthday, y/n! thank you for everything 💜💜

yourusername thank you lew 💜💜💜

mercedesamgf1 Happy birthday to our favorite member of the team!!!

yourusername HAHAHA TAKE THAT georgerussell63

georgerussell63 i feel offended but it makes sense

alex_albon happy birthday, ex-mechanic!!

yourusername thank you, ex-driver!!

georgerussell63’s insta story

yourusername’s insta story

yourusername

Liked by georgerussell63, alex_albon and 251,172 others

yourusername spent a couple of days away with some shirtless guy ☀️

view all comments

alex_albon i hate shirtless guys

yourusername kinda same

nightyraces i’m hallucinating. it’s not him. i’m hallucinating.

georgeslostshirt MY HONEST REACTION:

yourusername

Liked by georgerussell63, lewishamilton and 296,826 others

yourusername back home with some guy driver

comments are limited

georgerussell63 Sometimes I feel betrayed by my own girlfriend

alex_albon it’s okay george, i feel like that everytime mine flirts with yours

lilymhe bae you didn’t tell me you were with the side chick this week 💔💔

yourusername I’m so sorry baby i’ll make space for you next week 🫡

alex_albon see georgerussell63

georgerussell63 betrayal.

georgerussell

Liked by yourusername, lilymhe and 862,625 others

georgerussell63 she says i’m her side chick

view all comments

yourusername my shirtless side chick*

georgerussell63 i love you too

alex_albon we never should’ve let them meet

georgerussell63 we need a time machine

yourusername this is so cute ily babe

georgerussell63 i said i’m your side chick

yourusername cute!! 🤭💞💓🌱🌟

georgerussell63 i hate you

heartf1wags *jump over a cliff and points* A NEW BEAUTIFUL SMART AND GORGEOUS WAG !!!!

georgerussell63 true

yourusername GEORGE IM A WAG

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angelrari · 9 months

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emotional bruises · pt. ix

lando norris / carlos sainz x singer!reader faceclaim: emilia mernes

a/n; hi! i hope you enjoy this part! the next one is the last part 💔

prev | final

· · · · ·

lando knew it. when max sent him that tweet he wasn't surprised. it was just what he expected. he had seen the look on your face when carlos passed by after the race. the glances you and carlos shared spoke louder that words did. he knew it because that's how you used to look at him. he knew carlos was trying not to be too obvious, but he kept looking at you to check how you were. and that's exactly what lando used to do before whenever you were around. he knew it all along.

carlos felt guilty somehow. he had been feeling this way since the day he realized he was falling for you. he felt like he had betrayed his friend. lando was one of my best friends within the paddock and he hadn't been honest with him. he knew lando wouldn't understand it now, but he hoped that someday he would. he was worried about you. maybe it was too soon for you. maybe you heart wasn't fully healed. maybe you weren't ready for this. but god how he hoped you would.

you felt anxious. that was not the way you wanted lando to find out there was something going on betweeen carlos and you. a few days ago, lando had sent you a text to congratulate you on your successful tour and to tell you how proud he was of you. just two days ago, you texted him to wish him good luck before the qualy. and yesterday he hugged tightly you after getting off the podium. for a moment you thought the war between you two was coming to an end. maybe you could've left behind all the bad memories. maybe you could've been friends. but now you weren't sure, not anymore.

fuck it.

· · · · ·

producer (private account)

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and 64 others

producer (private account) 3:26 am

view all 12 comments

yourusername i think we're gonna be stuck here for a while

producer ordering more coffee as we speak

carlossainz55 please no more coffee i can't deal with her

producer it might not be the caffeine!

yourusername i hate you two

producer2 she looks so happy but then you listen to the songs she's recording...

yourusername let me have a moment of joy

carlossainz55 @/yourusername come home

yourusername wdym you're in brazil YOU come home

carlossainz55 omw

yourusername posted a story

caption: life lately

carlossainz55 posted a story

caption: life lately

· · · · ·

taglist: @roseseraj @katcontrreras @boiohboii @eugene-emt-roe @inesven @jjsprobablywrong @nooshytushie @willowpains @shessthunderstoms @thecubanator2 @black-swan-blog27 @sltwins @peachiicherries @ietss @elliegrey2803 @@be-your-coffee-pot @leclercloml @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @nooshytushie @incoherenciass @ironmaiden1313 @nmw-am @hopefulinlove @cixrosie @florkt @malfoydracomalfoysstuff @dhhdhsiavdhaj @gaviypedrisbride @leclerc16s @ms-american-pie @tesha-i-guess @ohthemisssery

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sirenlulls · 8 months

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feels like ➞ e. hewson

pairing — elijah hewson x fem!reader (gracie abrams fc)

fic type — social media au

met you at the right time. this is what it feels like!

♡ liked by gallagher_anais, izzyrichmond_, and 663,982 others

yourusername hello dublin!! i missed u angels sm 🫶 the last time i played a home show it was to a crowd of 200 at most & while i’ll always be grateful for those intimate shows and the family we built, i am so so so grateful and excited to play a sold out 3arena tomorrow with some very special guests ;) see you soon 💋

user SPECIAL GUESTS???? she’s definitely bringing inhaler out for a song or something

user no because didn’t she say on an ig live a few months ago that she helped eli write perfect storm…

user STOP ID CRY

joshjenkinson_ LFG!!!! 🤍🤍

user WHAT DO YOU KNOW JOSHUA.

evehewson beautiful beautiful girl 🫶

yourusername i love u to the moon and back by gorgeous eve ☹️💗

jordanjoyhewson ⭐️girl!! So excited for you x

user her friendship with eli’s sisters is so special to me

user im so excited i’ve been looking forward to this for months 😭😭

oliviarodrigo sososoooooooo proud of u baby 🥹

yourusername UGH!! my liv my life i love u too much

user you’ve grown so much in the past year im inconsolable

bobbyskeetz they were lovely leaves

yourusername getting the snow angel practice in early x

ynhq getting our bows ready!!

elijahhewson you betrayed me with that picture 💔

yourusername the job of a girlfriend is to humble, i’m sorry babe xx

phoebebridgers 🖤🖤🖤

ryanmcmahon_15 just updated their story!

♡ liked by jojolovedog, lizzymcalpine, and 721,798 others

yourusername thank u thank u thank u all for giving me the perfect end to an already perfect tour… speaking of perfect things…. thank u to my angels inhalerdublin for joining me onstage for an encore. i love u guys so much & performing with u was a gift in and of itself 🫶 i’ll miss performing live but i’m so happy to be able to settle down for a while with those close to me. i love u all so so so much. thank u for supporting me 💗💗💗

user do you understand how many lives were impacted by this show.

user this is my boobgenius

reneerapp born to serve 💋

inhalerdublin thanks for having us 🫶❤️

yourusername i was looking at josh when he typed this guys just fyi

ryanmcmahon_15 i, too, ❤️ inhaler!

nieveella stunning beautiful yummy delectable talented showstopping amazing gorgeous perfect (storm)!!!!!!!

yourusername love u sm ☹️💋

user my roman empire

katiegavs can i get a kiss… pls

yourusername anything for u 💋💋

user post concert depression has already started to kick in

user u and eli sharing a mic for the perfect storm chorus had me 🥹🥹🥹🥹 IM UNWELL

stellajones IT GIRLLLLLL

gallagher_anais don’t mind me, just sobbing in my little corner 🥺🫶💗

yourusername ani babyyyyy i love u sm ☹️☹️

yourusername updated their story!

♡ liked by lilamoss, joshjenkinson_, and 699,810 others

yourusername a special thank u to this loser who means the world 2 me. don’t know why u decided to eat that paper but… i still love u forever and ever and ever and ever and… ever!!!

user omg the last pic in dying did they grow up together???

yourusername we went to the same playschool!! went to different primary & secondaries tho 💔

user THATS SO CUTE WTF

elijahhewson you love posting bad pics of me

yourusername you’re a leo you’ll be fine

elijahhewson love you and proud of you always 🤍

yourusername ILY BITCHHHHHHH

bobbyskeetz poor lad was starving

maisiehpeters so cute 🥹❤️‍🩹🎀

evehewson My faves ❤️❤️❤️❤️

user my alex turner & alexa chung fr

chappellroan IM CRYINGGGG YOU GUYS ARE THE CUTEST EVER

laufey 🥺🥺🥺💞💞💞

#inhaler chats.#inhaler dublin x reader #inhaler #inhaler dublin #inhaler oneshot #inhaler x reader #elijah hewson x reader #elijah hewson #eli hewson #bobby skeetz #josh jenkinson #ryan mcmahon

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catcze · 8 months

Note

here me out.. so like i was scrolling a pinterest and i found this one song on spotify called “cigarettes out the window x dangerously yours” and the first thing i thought about is neuvillette!! LIKE THE BRAINROTS IN MY HEAD RN. reader and him are in his office 😱

OH OH OH OH OH OKAY HOLD ON HOL D ONNNN 👀👀👀👀 The way i opened YT so fast!??! HASKJDNA but my GOD do i see what u mean anon—

I'm getting vibes of reader who is, perhaps, from the fatui? or from some other hostile organization (idk im workign on it 💔) and they get assigned to be a double agent at the Palais Mermonia and acquire sensitive information for the organization they work for. Initially, they weren't supposed to do anything complicated— they certainly weren't even supposed to ever cross paths with the chief justice of Fontaine. But what do you know, Neuvillette falls for you first and invites you out to a meal, and you can't necessarily refuse.

Your superiors are delighted by the change in plans— if you get closer to the chief justice, you could easily get your hands on all sorts of information! So, although you're hesitant, you're forced to go along with getting closer to Neuvillette. But over time, you find that he's much, much more than most people think he is. He's more caring and gentle that most realize, and he's so sweet. Gods, he is so sweet. The way he cares for every single melusine is adorable. The way he enthusiastically encourages you to try water that he imported from gods-knows-where, just because he says that it taste fresh and clear like no other. And the way his eyes shine when you take a sip and tell him that he's right, that it's sp distinct, and he smiles, and you don't have the heart to tell him that in truth, it just tastes like water to you.

Before you know it, you're actually falling for Neuvillette. Not for the mission, not for the files. You're genuinely becoming head over heels for him. You can't tell your superiors this— you know you'd be pulled out and disposed of immediately now that you're compromised, but you can't go along with deceiving Neuvillette anymore. But if you tell him... no doubt he'd turn you away, like the double-crosser you are.

But you still find yourself in front of his office anyway, a heavy hand and a heavier heart knocking on his doors.

"Come in," he says.

And it's hard. Gods, it's so hard to come clean to him. You stutter and you just can't seem to spit out the words, so Neuvillette decides to talk first. He pulls something out of a drawer and sets it on his desk, opening its contents for you to see. And you gasp, because these are the files that you had been told were the highest priority. If you ever got your hands on them, you were to risk your life to get them back to your organization.

"Why are you showing me this?" You ask him, voice quiet, brow furrowed. Your hand reaches out to touch the papers, but you hesitate. Neuvillette just watches you, smiling mysteriously.

"Because you have my wholehearted trust," is all he says, and it's enough to break you.

The tears come flowing faster than you can help them. There's a lump in your throat, making it hard to breathe. Even as you splutter out the words, the confessions to why you're here, why you got close to him, and everything else in between, Neuvillette listens patiently. He doesn't yell, doesn't glare or curse you out. He doesn't shout for guards to come and toss you into the darkest pits of Meropide. Instead, he's calm.

"I know," he says as a means of explanation, and you still. His hand reaches across the desk, holding yours gently. "Since the very first day we met, when you stood beside me drenched in rain on the balcony, I've known. And my heart is yours anyway."

You shake your head, still crying quietly. "I will betray you. If not, I will be killed."

Neuvillette's hand squeezes yours. "Do you think so little of me that I would allow any harm to befall you, my love?"

"I think the world of you," you argue, and he smiles.

"There is no safer place for you than by my side. Should there be any threat to your life, I would use every ounce of my power to dispose of it, " Neuvillette vows. "Your organization has made a great many mistakes, but the greatest of them all has been sending you to me, and expecting me to ever let harm befall you."

HAJSDSAJKL LISTEN the monologue in the clip that i found (hopefully we're talking abt the same mashup ?!?!?) was longer + had more drama but OUGH my brain craves soft sweet tender romance without too much drama and life-or-death haksdkajs

#neuvillette x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 strawberry.cupcakes

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cookierunauprompts · 3 months

Note

Im tryna cook here so hear me out on this : what if SMC(shadow milk cookie)&reader are in the same trope of Rudolph&Catherine from dangerously yours?(it may not be same-same kidda wipe cuz I didn't watch the movie yet lol(srry not srry)) : It's started from reader got send by the witches to spy keep eyes on the old ancients(before corrupted-after corrupted)but suddenly reader fell in love with one of them(aka SMC)and so do he,but then after he and the other got corrupted he become obsessed toward them(obviously)but then he started to realized that the witches are planing to seal him and the other fallen ancients away cause of their actions of being corrupted and cause choas on earthbeard, so he conveice reader to tell him how to get to the witches(reader's witches spy and have their own specific way to contact/went to face the witches) and get him and his friends revenge on the witches but reader ran away instead and not telling him,and in the end they met each other again at the silver tree where the witches was going to seal them in and the line between reader&shadow milk will be like : "your time is up" "do you think actually going to let it happen?to let them seal me?to seal us?!" "..i mean just that" "....... well then go ahead" "i'll get this over with" "You won't do it,you won't let this happen...you won't because you love me."-"it takes a very brave and and a very cold person to do that,(y/c/n)"-"I don't think you can..."

Note / I think amma gonna end it here and I'll let u imagine it on ur own😭actually it was gonna be longer than this but I accidentally delete half of it so my lazy ass just tell me to get this over with😔(no anyone's oc x canon pls I beg u(Im srry))

throwing this into the Warden Reader AU, because silly.

Requested Prompts #44 - 💔💓

The words of the witches ring through your head as you stand ready in your position. " You have to be there, Reader Cookie." They had said. " For you are the only one who can see through his deception, it's how we know that the seal will truly work on them all." You knew what they'd really meant, but it was whatever. This was your purpose, what you were made for. There was no defying your own destiny when your were chained to it. It was an anchor dragging you down into the abyss of the sea, dread it, run from it, hide from it all you wish but it will still drag you down all the same. And then, you saw him. Your destiny made personified right in front of you in the form of a far too large blue cookie. Shadow Milk Cookie, the Cookie of Deceit as Elder Faerie had put it. The grin he wore was wide, yet not open enough to look insane as it usually did. His eyes were focused on you, keeping track of each and every action you took and each reaction you displayed. Such analysis befitted the former Cookie of Knowledge, but only fragments of the past were left in the beast before you. He'd strayed from how the witches made him due to the power of the soul jam, all of them had. You steel yourself after a mere millisecond of hesitation, pointing your spear at him with determination. " Your time is up." You coldly announced, not daring to let anything else slip into your tone. He'll use anything to get the upper hand, all you need to do is to distract him until the seal is prepared. His grin widened. " You mean you're actually going through with this? You're actually sticking by them, even though they're betraying you?" He asked, almost mockingly in tone. You knew not to search his expression for a hint of genuineness in his expression like you did in the past, and yet you did for just a moment. And maybe there was something, but you stopped yourself from looking. " ... I mean just that." You replied. You watched as he shrunk down, each step he got smaller and smaller until he was just a bit taller than you. " Well by all means, go ahead my dear." He said almost cruelly, taunting you by laying his head upon the tip of your spear. You hesitate, " This will be your finale." you state to his amusement. He smiled, an airy chuckle seeping through his lips. " You won't do it, you can't bring yourself to let this happen. All because you love me." The beast taunts, pressing his neck closer to the blade in a way that was just enough to draw forth a few droplets of his blueberry jam. " It takes a very brave and cold cookie to do that, I don't think you can."

----

Or, what happened before the witches sealed the beasts in the Warden!Reader timeline, and during.

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run au #crk #cr kingdom #shadow milk cookie #cookie run au prompts #beast yeast #shadow milk cookie x reader #originally i was going to write more. but this is supposed to be a prompt blog #anyways Shadow Milk with Blue strawberry jam(blueberry jam) real #warden!reader prompts #fun little fact. Warden!Reader's name isn't actually Reader Cookie #that's just something I slipped in

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creedslove · 8 months

Text

HEARTLESS 💔 - PART SEVENTEEN

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

Summary: the morning after the night you and the cowboy spent together had everything to be full of love, but a visit is going to ruin your plans

(this is the seventeenth chapter of the HEARTLESS 💔 series)

• Part one to sixteen on my MASTERLIST

Warnings: sad thoughts, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide attempt, fluff, angst, mom!reader

A/N: what can I tell you besties? I know it took me a long time but here's our cowboy for another ride... some of you didn't like the angst was back, but well, we know their love is stronger than anything that goes on, right?!

4.3k words

"I love you"

Those three simple words echoed through the cowboy's head as he watched you close your exhausted eyes and drift off to sleep. He pulled you closer to him, your head resting against his chest, heart beating fast, nose buried into your beautiful hair while his hands rubbed your back and traced invisible patterns all over your skin while he thought of everything that went on between the two of you. He had exhausted you, hell, he was exhausted himself and yet he couldn't fall asleep, the emotions of the latest events still running through his veins like adrenaline stopping him from simply closing his eyes and relaxing. You loved him, he knew that, in fact, everyone did, even though the heartbreak you had was the biggest, saddest and most intense situation you had ever gone through, it still wasn't enough to erase the feelings you felt for a certain cowboy; just as his desperate, pathetic and insisting trials of moving on, forgetting about you or even trying to hate on were just as big of a failure as he was. He loved you deeply, simply and raw. The kind of love that unabled him from moving on, from trying again, the kind of love that took away all the thrill in going out for one night stands like he often did before you walked into his life. The kind of love that made him think it wasn't worth living anymore, not while he was lacking that love, when he made the worst mistake of his life, choosing his own grief over his actual family, too scared to move on and being trapped in the past because it didn't scare him as much, when he thought the safest for the three of you would be going separate ways, so you wouldn't hurt him with the constant memory of his first wife and unborn son, so he wouldn't torture himself with the fear of betraying her memory and not being able to be there wholeheartedly for you and your son. He was scared, not only that, he was terrified and in his clouded judgment, he really believed he was doing the right thing, of course now he had a healthier mindset he could clearly see the kind of shit he engaged himself into and nearly lost for good the chance of being happy once more. He loved you so much, but he realized he had always taken it for granted, assuming you would always be around, and once he kicked you out of his life, a part of him assumed - and even hoped for - there would be a return; that you would crawl back to him, beg him to take you and your son back, but he was proven wrong once more when he met your power, your strength, and just then, when he didn't have you, he realized how much he truly loved you. Perhaps it was because of all the years of loneliness that followed the death of his wife and son, and Jack associated love with absence, that was one of the fruity, fancy things his therapist had said. He had tried several times starting therapy, but he never really engaged in it, he never really cared for it, and he was so sure it wouldn't be different when Champ set his cards on the table and told Whiskey would get only a suspension, therapy sessions and a shitty excuse of being brain damaged after being shot in the head, instead of being fired from the Statesman, kicked out like an old dog and sent to prison. At that moment, Jack sort of thought that was exactly what he deserved.

He was hopeless, knowing that he had made the worst mistake of his life, pushing away the family God had gifted him, his second chance of being happy and protecting the ones he loved and yet, he had been blind to see it. At that point of his life, his son growing from a tiny little dot in an ultrasound, to a small baby and finally evolving into a cute toddler he couldn't lie to himself any longer, not like when he told himself that dropping amounts of cash in your bank account here and there were enough. He knew they weren't. For the first time, he understood the weight of the stares and the silent judgments from people around him: Helen, his sister, Champ, Ginger, Tequila. It was no secret what happened, and it was also no secret he had made his family go away.

He was lost, he was lonely, he didn't have anything to live for. He thought that by sabotaging the mission he would be able to finally get some sort of revenge over whoever killed his wife and son - the cops could never identify them - but when he had the control of the situation, even for a brief period of time, he didn't feel anything, he was numb. Perhaps the excuse they came up with for the official Statesman reports wasn't so wrong, maybe Jack had had some kind of brain damage because of the shot, the first evidence would be Ginger resetting his memory by using a picture of you and Wyatt; he never knew how she got that picture of the two of you in the first place, his guess would be you being under the Statesman's protection program that covered the agent's families.

When he woke up from his comatose, he was so full of energy, as if he was twenty something again; seeing that hot chick in a lab coat with that sterile environment around that was somehow both so familiar and yet completely unknown to him, all he felt like doing was jumping off that bed and wooing her into bed with him, that was when she showed him a picture of a pretty lady. He looked at her, she was gorgeous, he knew he had seen her before but he couldn't remember at all. The lab coat lady watched him with confusion but took another picture out of her pocket and the moment Jack laid eyes on it, it felt like his head was exploding. Everything coming back to him at the same time, all of the memories returning, the tragedies, the happy moments, broken hearts and mended hearts all at once. His head was pounding as if someone pierced through his skull with a knife until he was brought back into his senses, but then, he was numb again.

He was numb because he had lost two families, one of them was taken away from him and the other he had pushed it away, and he would never forgive himself for that. He was a broken man, he was hopeless, he was a coward. He had tried ending his miserable, empty and useless life a couple of times, but he was just too much of a coward to do it right. It was like he somehow asked for help, when he thought he only deserved to be six feet under. He had no reason to live, so he took the opportunity he needed in order to try his final act. He went after Eggsy and Harry, knowing eventually someone would stop him. Deep down, Jack knew his plan was kind of stupid and it didn't even make that much sense, but he had to tried, in his mind, the best case scenario was someone ending his everlasting pain and he could finally find peace, and he was sure he was going to make it, the moment his lasso got stuck and he was meeting the meat grinder, he closed his eyes, praying it would be painless and fast, and the last image that crossed his mind was you.

You running to him like you often did, getting off Silver Pony and rushing to meet him, wrapping your arms around his neck and crash your lips gently for a welcome home kiss. This time, however, Wyatt would be with you, looking exactly like he did the last time Jack decided to follow the two of you through the street, and his heart tightened, it was too fast for him to notice it had been you, and not his late wife that crossed his mind in his final moments, and his heart tightened, he didn't have time left, but perhaps in the afterlife, he would be as happy as he could've been with you and your son.

And then that young man pulled him back.

His cowboy hat had already been shredded when he felt himself being lifted up and taken away from that real life nightmare. Whiskey knew he wasn't the best person in the world and he had had his fair share of bad actions, but he didn't think he deserved to die that way, not in such a cruel and gruesome way, that would be heartbreaking to everyone. He couldn't even imagine how Helen or his beloved sister would take the news that they couldn't even see his body because technically there wouldn't be much left of him, so for that, he was relieved. His memories of that day were kind of foggy, after he'd been knocked out by Eggsy, he only woke up at the Statesman's headquarters.

The first few days after the mission were pretty odd, everyone stared at him as if he was a traitor, and to be honest he was, not to Statesman, it wasn't anything personal, he would always love that company, the people who worked there and also his job, but he had betrayed himself. Whenever he walked down the hallways for his humiliating therapy sessions, he thought about how he needed to see you, but there was no way he could find you at that moment, not with the surveillance Champ had placed behind him all the time, after what happened, he worried the other agents would assume he was going to try to harm you and Wyatt somehow.

So Jack went to therapy instead, at first thinking he was just wasting his time and rolling his eyes at everything the therapist said, that until his words began hitting him deep, and slowly the cowboy started opening up, and before he could tell, the tears ran freely down his cheeks as he poured his heart out, in hopes he could be fixed.

All that painful path was what led Jack back with his family, after doing things wrong like he very often did, he managed to crawl back into your heart, after he showed you he loved and cared so much about you, despite being a dick, and you also gave in, because you were tired of fighting off the feelings you had for him and above all, the longing to have a real, stable family with him, so he cherish and appreciated those moments, even if they still seemed too good to be true, he vowed himself to make you happy for the rest of your life and never take you and Wyatt for granted. In the painful memories, his arms tightened the grip around you, making sure you were there, safe in his embrace and you shifted softly, smiling at the fact you had always had a deep sleep.

He watched you as you slept, he had always loved doing that, seeing your chest raising up and down at your calm breathing, he rested his head on him, closing his eyes and concentrating into your heartbeat, you were alive, well, in his arms, that cowboy couldn't wish anything else in his life, and yet, he did. He had one more desire, something you had already denied, you'd been adamant about it even, but that all had happened before you had changed your mind, before you broke the cowboy hat rule and told him you wanted to be with him, you wanted your family to work. He wanted a baby with you, another member of the Daniels family, he wasn't in a hurry, now that he had you and that you weren't going anywhere, now that you were staying next to him, watching Wyatt grow up and taking care of him. He wanted to make things right, like he was supposed to have done it once you two were together at first, he should've stepped in, become a man and treated you exactly the way you deserved it: like his wife.

And once you two were settled on that, he wanted you to have another baby, a baby girl if he could choose, because that cowboy wouldn't resist a tiny little princess looking like her mommy, the love of his life. He just knew, without even trying too hard that the moment that little girl opened her eyes, she would have that old cowboy wrapped around her tiny little finger in a heartbeat. He chuckled at the mere picture of it, shifting your body so you would lay your back on the mattress and rested his head on your stomach, closing his eyes as he imagined and prayed hard a little dot could be growing inside of your womb already. He just wanted to be there for you, for Wyatt and for the new baby you could maybe have together. His lips trailed a path of kisses right under your belly button, his mustache tickling your skin softly, but not enough to wake you up.

"Come to us soon, my baby" he whispered into your womb and fell asleep.

•••

You washed your face with fresh water and stared at yourself in the mirror, liking what you were seeing: no dark bags under your eyes, silky hair looking good after your brushed it - after all, your cowboy had a huge soft spot for your hair - and a glow that you recognized from the times you were feeling extremely happy and alive. Giggling as you analyzed yourself in the mirror, you could see the marks that hungry cowboy had left on you. You neck marked with a trail of hickeys that drove you insane at the moment you got them; feeling another wave of warmth down your core, you decided not to cover it up with makeup or any accessory, there was no need to it, after all, you and your son would be staying on the ranch for the next days and it was so secret to anyone there - or anyone outside of it once you returned to the city - you were the cowboy's and he was yours.

It was madness to think that everything you felt the night before could become a routine like it had been once, that all the pleasure Jack gave you, he could give you again over and over every single day; that man could be a little distant if one didn't know him yet, but from the moment you get to know him and he takes a like on you, Jack Daniels vows himself to please you as best as he can. It wasn't different with you, he knew exactly what to do to you, your weak spots, it was his sweet way of domination, and now that you woke up drunk in love, you would be glad to let that man dominate you for the rest of your life.

Jack was still sleeping when you exited the bathroom, his face buried deep into your pillow, making you giggle, he had always been a needy sweet man after all. You lifted the blankets and got rid of your slippers so you could join your cowboy in bed when soft knocked interrupted you; you widened your eyes, knowing it could only be your son. A wave of guilt rushed through your body as you hadn't even thought of him for the past hours, being so deep into the experience you shared with your man, but thinking about it, Wyatt was safe and sound, asleep after the best weekend of his little life and his mommy and daddy did deserve some time on their own.

You opened the door to him, smiling as your son hugged your waist and giggled

"Hi mommy!" He said with his sweet bright eyes, not letting go of you until you took him into his arms and lifted him up. Wyatt looked inside the room curiously and gasped as he saw his daddy asleep, staring into his eyes he giggled "why did you have a sleepover with daddy and not me, mommy?" He tilted his head and wrapped his tiny arms around your neck "I miss you mommy" he whispered into your ear and snuggled and you felt like your heart was bursting with love. Your son was just so sweet and adorable and you also missed him, it had been just the two of you against everything and everybody for most of his life and you saw it then that the two of you missed it.

"I miss you too very very much, my little cowboy… would you like to snuggle with mommy and daddy some more?" You asked and he nodded eagerly, not letting go of you even if his little life depended on it. You got yourself under the blankets, your son immediately tucked between you and his daddy, but he was facing you, staring at you with his beautiful, soft eyes "you are so pretty mommy" he said sweetly and rested his face against your chest falling asleep.

Jack chuckled and looked at you "seems like you found your love bug, sugar" he winked and ran his fingers through Wyatt's curls, looking at his son with pride in swallowing his heart. You took Jack's hand, entwining your fingers together and sighing "you're so handsome, I hope you know that" you whispered and pecked his neck gently, loving the taste of his skin, just like you love everything else about your sweet cowboy. Whiskey could see how sleepy you were and smiled gently at you "sleep sugar, rest and close your beautiful eyes that I'll be here when you wake up" your cowboy's silky voice was enough to soothe you and make you close your exhausted eyes, falling asleep with your lovely little family.

•••

Wyatt shook his head and frowned confused at the words he had just heard, he had even stopped nibbling on the delicious bread and butter during his breakfast.

"No grandma, daddy loves me!" He said confused and looked up at the older woman, who chuckled and shook her head, you mom just rubbed his back gently and sighed

"I'm sorry baby boy, but daddy doesn't love you.. as grandma said, when mommy had you in her belly, he told mommy to leave and said he never wanted to see you or her again! He doesn't love mommy either, daddy is very selfish and he only cares about himself. Mommy didn't even let grandma come to your birthday party because of him" she said but Wyatt refused to believe her, his daddy loved him and he knew it.

"Why wasn't your daddy around you? Because he didn't love you nor mommy" she shrugged and he jumped off her lap "no, you are lying, grandma!!!"

"I'm not! Don't be a naughty boy!" She censored him raising her voice at the same time you and Jack came downstairs. He had his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and pinching your sides playfully making you giggle and squirm. Jack had his hat in his free hand and he only had eyes for you, however, he noticed immediately how your soft and carefree expression changed into a frown and your jaw clenched, but before he could say anything else, the two of you were welcomed by your son's cries as he looked at you

"It's not true, grandma! Mommy, tell grandma it's not true!" He whined and clung to you, looking up at Jack with eyes filled with tears and sniffling sadly.

Your mom just laughed softly and shrugged "I didn't lie my love, I wish I did but it's the truth" and then she eyed you up and down, the disgust in her face at the clear proximity to the cowboy, how his hand still lingered on your hips and of course how you hadn't even bothered to cover up the hickeys he had left along your skin, she couldn't believe and accept you were back with that man already, and in her twisted mind, she needed to do something about it.

"What did you tell my son, you witch? Huh? My little cowboy was perfectly fine earlier this morning, he was happy and chirping like a damn little bird and now he's crying? What did you do?!" Jack roared, his fatherly instincts kicking in the moment he saw the distress, and knowing how his mother-in-law hated him and apparently wouldn't even spare her own grandson from her petty feelings. The woman just laughed again and folded her arms

"What do you think I said?! I told him the truth about how his daddy had a family he loved very much, the only family he ever loved and when he lost them, he just got another replacement which was his mommy but when she got pregnant with Wyatt, he told her to go away because he didn't love her or her son, he just loved his other family" she shrugged and looked at him. You thought Jack was about to explode, you had never seen him so angry, his face was livid, red with anger and if he could would've attacked her right there and then, but he used all his strength to hold himself back. At the same time you asked your mom harshly what she was doing there, the three of you were stopped by Wyatt's loud sob. He looked up at his dad as tears ran down his face and he cried his little heart out.

"I-Is it true daddy? You don't love me? You love your other family?"

And Jack's heart shattered as hard as he had never felt before, it felt it had been ripped off his chest and shredded to pieces, he couldn't handle the disappointment and hurt into his son's eyes, and all because of him. He shook his head and got on his knees, bloody red eyes full of tears, staring into his son, he tilted his head at the same time his strong hands pulled Wyatt closer "n-no son, daddy loves you and mommy, more than anything. There was a family yes, but they are gone and daddy made a lot of mistakes but I've never stopped loving you, I-"

His heartfelt words were interrupted by the quarrel you and your mom initiated, if Jack was able to control his anger, you couldn't say you owned the same skill he did, quite the opposite, you were shaking with anger and all you could see was your son's hurt feelings, if you felt that way, you couldn't even believe how your cowboy must have felt. Not only that, how your poor son must've been hurt by it, his daddy had been his world ever since they met and now, after your mom's venomous words your son cried his little heart out.

Wyatt couldn't handle that, he liked to see his mommy and daddy happy, playing with him and not crying and yelling at his grandma, so he turned around and ran outside the door, wanting to find the only thing that could calm him down.

You cried and tried controlling your anger, no matter how many times Jack had held you by the waist and tried to convince you to stop yelling and causing a scene, but you couldn't rest and stop until you saw your mother out of Jack's ranch, only when you couldn't see her car down the road was when you felt a little better, still you had a lot of damage control. You cried with anger and sadness, your mom had no right to do what she did, she could hate your future husband as much as she wanted but she could not bring her grandson into it. The way your sweet little boy cried was haunting you and how hurt his poor little heart was. Jack was at a loss of words, he hated he had disappointed his son that way; he felt like a complete failure as a man, and as a father. He couldn't even think of how he ever wanted to have another child, if he could barely handle the one son he already had. You paced the kitchen and finished your glass of water, sighing relieved as Jack walked inside. You frowned softly "where's Wyatt?!" You questioned him and he just mumbled something about him being outside playing with Silver Star.

"Is everything okay?" You asked even though you knew everything was not okay, everything was far from okay, after your mom waltzed into your seeming perfect happy ending and screwed things up; even Jack changed his demeanor, if before he was just all lovey dovey towards you, now it was clear he needed some time on his own. He turned around and faced you, frustration was written all over his face, his body was so tense it was visible so he just clenched his jaw before sighing "Wyatt won't talk to me, you should check up on him, maybe he'll talk to you…" after all your mother fucked it up that was what he wanted to say, but he knew it would be mean, that wasn't himself talking, it was his anger and he could see you were just as stressed as you were, it was not fair he would take it out on you, you didn't deserve this. Jack cleared his throat and looked at you with much softer eyes, taking a step forward and wrapping his arms around you, his embrace was comforting and soothing, as he rubbed your back up and down

"Talk to him, sugar, maybe he won't hate me if you do…" his voice cracked and so did your heart; you couldn't accept your mom was such a heartless person who was willing to end your family's happiness like that, you needed to do something about it.

____

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missmaywemeetagain · 4 months

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Broken Glass, Chapter 9 💔🥂❤️‍🩹

Eeee! I can't believe it's finally DONE! At nearly a whopping 14k, I truly hope this makes up for me not updating this story since September! 🎉 Many thanks to my darling @ab4eva for finally helping me knock this loose and reminding me I could indeed still write! 💗💋💗

If I'm honest, Broken Glass is one of my favorite stories I've worked on. I know it's quite the slow burn and not nearly as smutty as my other works (...yet), but it really does make my creative heart sing and I'm so in love with these two and their stark vulnerabilities. 🥹

I highly recommend rereading Chapter 8 to refresh your memory, but the TL;DR is we left a jealous, ailing Elvis having just found out Lori's big secret from Sinatra and Sinatra calling Elvis out on feelings he hasn't quite been able to admit to himself until now. 😬

This chapter puts us firmly back in Lori's (rather confused) perspective. Elvis is acting weird, and she is feeling the fear of her past nipping at her heels. She's trying to manage her own emotions and health while chasing after Elvis' moody ass, which is going just as well as you'd expect LOL. And of course we have Welcome Home Elvis with Frank Sinatra! You might want to watch the Elvis portions on the show to fully get in the mood--I hope I did them justice! 🥰

Things will really kick into high gear after this chapter, so this setup is pretty important to what's coming. I really hope you enjoy! You can catch up here using the Broken Glass Masterlist ❤️‍🩹

I can't wait to hear what you think!! 💗

Much Love,

Madi xoxoxoxo 💗💋

TW: references to SA/threats/abuse, Gianni, dissociation, emotional upheaval, nightmares/violence/blood, period-related misogyny, health issues (fainting, constipation, vomiting, etc.), Elvis being an asshole, Elvis being a damn snack, sooties 😏

Broken Glass Chapter 9

March 24th, 1960

Miami, Florida

“Just hang on, Elvis. Come on, open your eyes for me,” you say, patting his sallow cheek, the concrete biting at your knees where you’ve fallen ungracefully to the ground with him.

Your half a cigarette lies smoking and abandoned a foot away—a bad habit you picked up after needing an excuse to get outside after long, stressful shifts at the hospital. You haven’t smoked much since you left New York, not having much need for it when your current job is almost ornamental most days, except in those private, hidden moments away from the bustle of Elvis’ strange life.

But he’d pushed you to that Lucky Strike, what with his aloof behavior since Nashville and then his ridiculous jealousy over Frank Sinatra having the audacity to speak to you and you having the gall to laugh with him.

“You are. You’re jealous. Why? I’m not your girl, so why—”

“The hell you aren’t.”

Galloping in your chest, your heart betrays your tangled feelings about the way he’d acted, the way he’d said those words as if he thought for a moment you really were his girl. And before, how he’d kissed you so passionately…

The memory is interrupted by Elvis’ low groan, his long eyelashes fluttering open to reveal glassy but stormy ocean eyes, thrusting you back into the present emergency. You don’t particularly like the way he’s clutching his midsection or how wheezy and warm he is, but you can’t do much here, especially when people are starting to gather.

He starts, as if coming back into himself, and surprisingly tries to roll up and off you. “I’m fine,” he gasps, shrugging your hand off his shoulder in an uncharacteristic act of defiance.

You might be more annoyed if you weren’t so worried, but your feelings are beside the point right now. Treat him like any other patient, a voice in your head reminds you.

“You are not fine, and we’re going back to the hotel so I can get a look at you,” you whisper firmly in his ear.

He shoots you a petulant look.

“Unless you want to go to the hospital instead?” you throw at him, with a raised brow. That does the trick. His glare softens a bit and his eyes dart away as though he’s been scolded.

It doesn’t take more than a pointed look from you for Lamar and Joe to haul Elvis carefully to his feet. You may only be Elvis’ girlfriend in their eyes, but they do know you are a nurse with some expertise in these situations. And you can’t help but see concern on their faces.

Elvis clutches his midsection again with a gasping wince. The guys lead him to a bench outside the building.

“Joe, tell someone in charge Elvis isn’t feeling well. Lamar, go get the car, please. We’re leaving.”

Your tone leaves no room for questions, but the three men look at you with surprise. In truth, you are a little surprised yourself. Perhaps it’s your lack of outward panic, the calm surety of many a night on the emergency ward.

You can’t say the same for them, seeing the panic brewing in the eyes of Elvis’ friends. Along with that, none of them are used to taking orders from women, and certainly you haven’t shown much vocal backbone in these last few weeks, yet with hardly a pause, Lamar and Joe scurry off, leaving you with Elvis.

He doesn’t speak to you or try to joke his way out of the pain, which is unusual. Instead, he stares blankly at anywhere but you. A sliver of unease winds its way through your stomach, and while you don’t push him, it’s almost involuntary the way your hand falls on top of his.

There is no reaction at first. Is he trying to ignore you? Could he possibly still be mad about the Sinatra thing? Confusion washes over you at the slight, but then his eyes squint in pain and his hand finally grips yours.

You hold back the breath of relief at the response, and before you can spiral too much more into what ifs, Lamar pulls up with the car. With his help, you get Elvis into the backseat.

The drive to the hotel is mostly silent. Joe tries to crack a joke or two from the front seat, but Elvis’ lack of response beyond painful grimaces quiets the short man with the annoying laugh. Elvis continues to shut you out, his hands clasped around his middle now instead of your hand.

It shouldn’t bother you, but it does.

He’s just distracted by his pain, you reassure yourself.

You spend the ride pushing away questions about his behavior towards you and try to focus on diagnosis and treatment checklists, going through in your head what you have to do once you two are alone. It grounds you.

Once you all arrive, the boys help him out, but he stubbornly pushes them away once they reach the lobby.

“I can get to the elevator by my damn self!” Elvis grumbles, his eyes darting around the open space with concern. He’s nervous, you think, about being mobbed in this condition. You’ve gleaned enough in the past few weeks to understand he always attracts attention and it’s almost impossible for him to say no to his fans, even when he’s in so much pain he can barely stand upright. You are continually amazed by his generosity and selflessness in this regard. It’s one of the most endearing things about him.

Luckily, the lobby isn’t busy, and you make it to the privacy of the elevator avoiding interruption from outsiders. The humid air in the small space feels stifling and heavy with concern, but no one speaks as the elevator lurches upwards.

The relief is palpable when the doors open to the penthouse, and without ceremony you help deposit Elvis on the king-sized bed in the suite.

“Should we call a doctor?” Joe whispers to you as you try to shut him out of the room. The look in his eyes shows real worry for his friend.

“No,” you snap back, wanting to avoid any doctors not already familiar with the complexity of the situation. Joe is taken aback, so you continue more gently, “Not yet, at least. Let me see what I can do, and I’ll let you know.”

You can’t close the door fast enough, finally able to rush to Elvis’ aid in earnest, grabbing your medical bag out of the closet.

“Where does it hurt?” you ask, preparing the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope.

Elvis doesn’t respond, looking sullen. You can’t tell if it’s stubbornness or pain that’s keeping him this way though. But the dull hurt of your near-constant headache coupled with his strange mood has your temper feeling short.

“You smoke,” he says with distaste, avoiding your question.

“What?” Distracted, you count the seconds of his pulse using your watch.

“Girls of mine don’t smoke. I don’t like it,” he adds with a petulant glare.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Okay, Elvis, I’ll stop smoking,” you placate, “but you need to tell me what’s going on with your body or I cannot help you.” The command is clear.

He looks up at you then, his eyes churning with pain and something else you don’t have time to piece through right now.

“I feel hot an’ short of breath,” he says quietly, almost clinically. “And…” He hesitates, looking down with embarrassment.

You urge him on with a nod as you squeeze the cuff. “And? What’s going on with your belly?”

He clears his throat with a grimace. “It hurts something fierce. It’s, uh, been awhile since…you know.”

You sigh. Logically, you understand how anyone—any man, especially one in his position—might feel embarrassed talking about their bodily functions with a young woman, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating that he hides these issues from you when it’s your job to know.

“How long?” you ask.

“I dunno,” he shrugs, his face going flush.

“Alright, then, lay back,” you sigh, popping a thermometer in his mouth. Thankfully, he obeys without a fuss, and you pull his shirt up. It doesn’t take much gentle prodding on his lower belly to determine the issue. In fact, you can see the distention on his normally lean frame. That coupled with his pained whimpers and wincing makes it clear that his chronic constipation is rearing its ugly head.

For a normal and otherwise heathy person, it might not cause the severity of issues you have to contend with now. But Elvis is neither normal nor healthy. His pressure and temp are too high, his asthma is acting up, either from the pain or exertion of singing, and you know he’s not going to like the solution. But if he wants to stay out of the hospital and out of the press, he’ll just have to deal with it.

Despite your headache and frustration with him for not communicating readily with you about anything he should, be it his feelings or his health, you urge him to the bathroom as gently as possible, gathering the materials needed from your bag. The caretaker in you pushes everything else away as you prepare the solution and guide him through the process of what must be done.

He goes from furious to ashamed to resigned rather quickly. You are a little surprised at how readily he becomes vulnerable to you, considering the circumstances. The treatment momentarily strips away whatever inexplicable ire he was holding onto. It feels so intimate the way you both quiet and with how carefully you tend to him, massaging his belly and rubbing his back as the treatment works its magic. And after the relief comes, you run a bath, washing him gently, watching as his handsome face finally relaxes. Never has a man looked so innocent yet so beautifully dangerous. He leans into your comfort, too, and as clinical as your brain wants to make this whole experience, you are a little frightened by the realization of your heart aching not just with him, but for him.

He falls asleep in the warmth of the tub. You don’t wake him, knowing how sleep comes for him so irregularly and infrequently, but you are loathe to leave him alone when he could easily slip under the water. Elvis Presley will not drown in a tub on your watch.

Or at least this is what you tell yourself as you take a moment to catalogue such peaceful and unencumbered beauty, knowing very few get to see him like this.

Your mind finally wanders then, back to the moment in Nashville you’ve tried desperately not to think about, when he sang directly to you in so intimate a way you thought you’d combust from the inside out with feelings and urges you barely understood. Fire and shivers cascade down your spine all at once at the memory of his eyes, heavy lidded and molten, as he sang to you about just how right it would feel to be in his arms. It was so seductive, so real, it felt like he put a spell on you. There were no secrets between you in that tiny studio—only want and need.

In those few minutes, he wanted everything from you, and you had wanted to give it to him.

That is his wonderful talent, though, isn’t it? you think. To make others believe in the words of a song. Perhaps he believed them too, in the moment. It sure felt like it.

But he became so incredibly distant after Nashville, just when you thought you’d gotten closer. It was confusing and exasperating, like he pulled the rug of logic and sense right out from under you. It hurt more than it should have to be shut out by him. He hadn’t been unkind, per say, just aloof and detached.

You purse your fingers over the bridge of your nose, wishing it would ease the dull throbbing in your head. Lack of sleep and routine has done a number on you these past few weeks, though you know it’s keeping up with the façade of a relationship challenging you the most. You’ve slowly been getting better at playing the part of the doting girlfriend, to be sure, but the switching from fake girlfriend to nursemaid and back again is altogether exhausting.

And no matter how much better you get, you aren’t an actress. You aren’t used to pretending to feel something but not actually feeling it. It’s getting harder and harder to decern if these complicated feelings you are starting to have for Elvis are just part of your new job or if they are…real.

You don’t want them to be. They can’t be. Not only would it be unethical, but it’s perilous to think—to hope—he might see you as more. You’re not the type of girl a man like Elvis Presley falls for. And even if you were, a smart, practical girl like you knows better than to get involved with a womanizer like him.

A smart, practical girl like you knows any man is dangerous.

Speaking of danger, as soon as you’d left the safety of Graceland, you’ve felt the creeping unease Gianni or your father could pop out at any moment to steal you away back to New York. They have to know by now who you are with, and you don’t hold any fantasy of them letting you get on with your life without a fight. No, they’ll come for you at some point, you just don’t know when or how, and the more you’re out in the world, the more exposed you feel. Your hypervigilance has you always on edge, and you make sure to stay by Elvis’ side as much as possible in the hope he and his entourage will protect you.

So, yes, you are exhausted. The litany of masks you’re wearing to stay functional are crushing you with their weight, and it is taking more of a toll on you than you are letting on. Perhaps that is why Elvis’ mercurial attitude towards you feels so barbed and painful because, by some strange twist of fate, he is the only one in this world who knows even a fraction of who you really are.

And with that thought, you try not to berate yourself too much for taking a stolen moment to gawk at the ethereal man, this god-like Apollo, naked and asleep in the tub. You are too tired to fight the searing memory of how he kissed you today in front of Frank, so possessive and visceral as he clutched you to him like he never wanted to let you go. The way his tongue, oh Madone, how his tongue had teased your lips to part and how you’d melted in his arms, unable and unwilling to resist his charms. He held you close and all you had wanted in that moment was to be consumed by him, embarrassingly so.

Maybe that was why you’d reacted fervently to his jealousy. It is whiplash, this pendulum of his attentions (or lack thereof), and it embarrasses you how easily you’d caved to his kiss, and in front of Frank Sinatra of all people. But then when you were alone, Elvis reminded you so clearly with his words that it was all a lie, while his body and actions screamed the opposite.

It all felt like too much, then, when he’d tried to put it on you, as if you were the one playing with his emotions. He is an infuriating, obstinate man, and it’s even more infuriating how everyone in his circle allows him to be so. It certainly isn’t fair he can also be so generous and kind and talented and handsome and vulnerable…God, it would be so much easier if he was always a spoiled brat and you could hate him for it.

But it’s not that easy.

He scares you. Not like your father or Gianni, no. Elvis scares you because he—

“You alright, Little Bird?” he croaks from the bath, eyes slits against the light.

It startles you, and you realize your head has been in your hands in lament as you spiral. You straighten, blinking away your lingering, dangerous thoughts.

“Yeah, yes, I’m fine. Just…tired.” It is not a lie, and you hope his own exhaustion keeps him from questioning you further.

“Well, we best get you to bed then, darlin’,” he groans, sitting up and stretching his long arms over his head. “Hand me that towel?”

“Of course,” you breathe, handing him the fuzzy, white towel, then you quickly turn away. You don’t want to leave because he may be unsteady on his feet, and it’s certainly not as though you haven’t seen him totally bare, but you feel your cheeks heat slightly anyway at his nakedness.

I’m only human.

Towel slung low on his narrow hips, you’re glad to follow him into the bedroom and not the other way around, worried the heat of his gaze might flay you open and reveal everything you are trying to hide from him. You don’t have the energy for masks right now.

It seems neither does he. He is docile and pliant as you help him into his silken pajamas and under the covers. You’ve noticed the pattern of him doing this after his episodes, putting himself completely in your capable hands.

As you head back to the bathroom to change and do your own nightly routine, you wonder if he’s ever been this way with anyone else, or if it’s just a special part of him set aside for you.

Stop thinking like that. I am his nurse and nothing more.

You keep a healthy distance between you and him when you climb into the sheets. It doesn’t take long, however, for your exhaustion to take the reins, and you quickly drift off, trying desperately not to think about the beautiful man—no, my patient—who sleeps so close by.

“Dolo-res, oh, Dolo-res!” The slithering sound of Gianni’s voice sing-songing your name in the dark sends your heart racing and your stomach dropping. His dress shoes click ominously on the wooden floor of your father’s house, slowly, taunting you. It’s as though he knows exactly where you are and is just biding his time. Finding pleasure in your fear.

You try to be as quiet as a mouse, but your breathing grows more ragged with each laborious step. The floor is working against you, like you are trying to run through water.

“Aye, aye, aye, Dolores,” Sinatra sings, the sound slow and distorted. Frank watches you struggle up the stairs, his head tilting and those famous blues giving you a knowing wink from the hallway beneath you.

“You can’t hide from me, Bella,” Gianni purrs from behind you, his footfalls heavy.

“What a break if I could make Dolores mine, oh, mine,” Frank continues the song as though your world isn’t collapsing in on itself, as if you weren’t running for your life. The lyrics feel all too threatening under the circumstances.

Clawing your way to the landing, a sob catches in your throat. He’s too close. You can smell his awful cologne. It makes your head pound and your stomach roll.

If you crawl your way to your room…you could lock the door. You could be safe.

“Aye, aye, aye, Dolores,” Frank croons from below.

Gianni’s hands are frigid when they clamp on your legs and turn you over.

“No, no, no, no!” you whimper.

“Did you get my gift, Bella?” Gianni smirks, feeling his way up your thighs, up under your skirt.

Looking down at your hand, the engagement ring he gave you shines menacingly, weighing your hand down so much you cannot lift it to defend yourself. You open your mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.

“I was made to serenade Dolores,” the song continues, but it’s no longer Frank’s voice from below. No, it’s deeper, and warm, like velvet. And oh, so familiar.

Elvis.

He’s on the landing behind you as he sings. You crane your neck and see him upside down, towering over you, only a few steps away.

“Elvis, please,” you cry. You aren’t sure if it’s a plea for help or one encouraging him to run. He looks down at you, almost absently, like he sees you but cannot be bothered. Perhaps he does not see you at all.

You aren’t sure what’s worse.

Gianni looks up and growls at Elvis, the whites of his eyes disappearing, turning all the way black. Dark, vicious claws form at the ends of his fingers. He looks like a demonic beast, ready to pounce on his prey.

“I would die to be with my Dolores,” Elvis sings, and you know then it’s over. You close your eyes, not wanting to see Gianni tear Elvis apart just for being near you. You feel the heat of Gianni leap over your prone form, feel Elvis being knocked to the ground with a thud. A roar. Screams. The sounds are sickening and the heat of blood spatters over your face.

“NO!” you sob, uncontrollably. Every breath is tainted with your agony.

It’s all your fault.

Then heavy silence.

Your chest heaves with the speed of your panicked breathing and you sense Gianni crawling back over you. You open your eyes, even though you don’t want to.

“What a break if I could make Dolores mine, oh, mine,” Gianni sings quietly, finishing the song, his face and hands stained crimson with Elvis’ blood. He smiles at you, a terrifying white gash amongst the red.

“Mine.”

Then he digs his claws deep into your belly.

You shudder awake, breathing hard enough to know it is another nightmare that wakes you. The sheen of sweat across your brow, the throbbing at your temples reminds you that you are alive, awake, and when you open your eyes, they meet the darkness of the hotel suite. Your cheeks are damp with tears and your hand flies to your abdomen to make sure Gianni’s claws are not deep inside you.

Much to your shock, there is a hand already there, large and splayed across your belly, but completely unthreatening. No, almost comforting. It knocks away the dream, this hand, as you try to puzzle through why it is there, who it belongs to, and why you aren’t afraid. You hold your breath.

A moment passes. You take stock of the rest of you: the queasiness of your stomach subsiding some, the solid warmth pressed against your back, your legs tucked but feet tangled amongst the sheets and another set of feet.

Elvis.

And you wonder if you are still dreaming because of the way his arms hold you tight. You wait for the panic to come as a result of the embrace, but it never does. Your heart skips then slows, beat by beat as you sink into calm, protected warmth, lulled by his slow breathing against your back.

I’m safe.

Sleep takes you with little fuss.

Your eyes flutter open. The room is dark, thanks to the heavy blackout curtains Elvis requested, but one look at the clock tells you it’s morning and past time to get up. A shiver rolls through you, which is strange despite the arctic levels he keeps any room he sleeps in because he usually a furnace next to you. But your body already knows what your eyes quickly confirm: Elvis is gone. Not in the bed, or the suite, or in the darkened bathroom.

Puzzled, you sit up and flip on the lamp. Your memory is hazy. Blinking, you vaguely remember a nightmare involving Gianni, but blissfully cannot remember specifics. There is something else you are missing, though, something important, just outside the reach of your memory. A comfort maybe? It doesn’t make any sense. Unease settles over you as you rise, your hand falling unconsciously over your abdomen.

Elvis’ absence bothers you, though you can’t put a finger on why. Perhaps it’s just the lingering dreams you can’t quite remember that have you anxious.

Or maybe it’s because in less than a month, your entire life has been upended and changed irrevocably.

Could be that.

After a glance at the time, you rise and hasten to get ready, knowing you are running late. Elvis will need to be at rehearsal soon. The rush is a good distraction from your muddled thoughts.

When you exit into the rest of the suite, ready to go, it’s much, much too quiet. Your skin prickles at the absence of Elvis and the usual boisterousness of the group of men you’ve become used to being around all the time and the relative safety they provide.

Something is wrong, and a tendril of fear of being alone and exposed winds up your spine.

Oh, Madone, something happened to Elvis.

Gianni.

It’s then that Cliff exits the kitchenette with a cup of coffee and you jump, startled, hand flying to your chest as you suck in a breath.

“Oh, hey, Lori,” he says. “You’re finally up.”

“Madre di Dio, you scared me!” you gasp, trying not to let the panic leech into your voice too much. “Where is everyone? Where’s Elvis?”

“Oh, they went ahead to the studio. I stayed back to drive you, if you still want to go.” He says it with pity, like you’re one of Elvis’ paramours that can just be dismissed on a whim, and frankly, he seems a little put out by this assignment.

“He did what?” Red lines your vision quite suddenly, anger washing away the worry you’d felt only a moment ago. Elvis is not supposed to be without you. It’s the reason you’re even here. He knows it.

And he just left you. Alone. Without a word.

Cliff backpedals instantly, sensing your indignation, looking very uncomfortable. “Oh, I…um…I think he just thought you were tired? And wanted to let you sleep?”

“Oh, I bet he did,” you mutter under your breath. Then you grab your purse and beeline for the door. “Let’s go, Cliff.”

He scrambles behind out you, following you to the elevator. At first, he nervously prattles on about the weather, trying to make small talk, but finally gives up once he realizes your piercing glare isn’t going anywhere.

You tell yourself you’re angry because Elvis has put himself in danger by not having you with him, but you are smart enough to know it’s more than that. He’s treated you like any other woman when you are not.

It’s downright disrespectful.

Furthermore, it put you at risk. Without the safety of Elvis’ protective and insular group, you are exposed. Gianni or your father would have no trouble at all disposing of Cliff and dragging you back to New York, before Elvis even knew what happened.

Because you haven’t told him, a small voice reminds you.

It makes you sick to think of. Your pounding headache is back, and you feel a bit carsick with the intense Florida sun beating down as Cliff drives you to the studio.

Your frustration and fear have you out of the car before he has barely parked. Heels click-clacking on the concrete and Cliff struggling to keep up, you show your special pass to the doorman. You hate the way the man examines your pass as though it were fake, giving you a once over. Cliff nods at the man before he finally lets you both through, and you huff at the slight.

This isn’t like you. Before Elvis, you would have meekly stepped to the side and let Cliff lead, content to fade into the woodwork. Happy, even. Maybe Elvis’ hotheadedness is rubbing off on you because the swell of rage you feel is like nothing you’ve felt before.

Fuming, you finally reach the studio and then stop short at what you see, sending Cliff almost running into you.

Elvis looks the picture of health, none of the pain or vulnerability you’d seen last night anywhere to be seen. In fact, he has a pretty girl on either side of him, both tittering and blushing as he smiles his famous quirky smile at them in turn. Flirting.

Your nails dig into your clutch and your body goes rigid. It shouldn’t, but it makes your blood boil with betrayal.

How dare he.

It’s a stupid thought, and one you try to shake off as soon as it comes. He’s not your boyfriend. God knows he’s flirted—and done much more—with other girls around you before, and it didn’t bother you then. Not really.

But maybe it’s because he laid into you so hard yesterday about Sinatra and your supposed flirtation and about keeping up appearances and his damned jealousy, and yet here he is, blatantly disregarding all of it. Because of double standards and whatever other petty reasons he has for acting so strange with you since Nashville.

Your eyes burn into him and with the little sixth sense of his, he notices. His eyes darken and hit yours intentionally, and there’s not even a hint of surprise or regret in them. Just an infuriating quirk of a brow before the girls steal his attention again.

Like he planned this.

You grind your teeth, forcing yourself to take a breath instead of doing something stupid like slapping that smile right off his pretty face. No, you’ve got to be professional about this. You seethe, trying to reel in all these senseless emotions suddenly swirling out of control in your mind.

For whatever reason, he’s trying to get under your skin. Maybe he thinks he’s teaching you a lesson about yesterday. About Frank. About the smoking. Who knows what else.

Well, two can play at that game.

You breathe in, out, in again, forcing your shoulders to relax, forcing yourself back into your clinical mode. God knows between the last few weeks, your upbringing, and your nurse’s training, you’ve learned how to deal with difficult people.

Elvis Presley has severely underestimated you if he thinks you’ll fold over this.

In another highly uncharacteristic move, you school your features into a relaxed smile as you walk towards him and the girls. You know he senses you even though he’s barely looking, but instead of confronting him or slinking into the shadows, you clip right past him and head towards the other famous men in the room.

His eyes are burning holes into your back as Frank and Sammy Davis Jr. notice your approach. You appreciate the fact that the two men smile so warmly at you, and not at all dismissively. It was a gamble, as you easily could’ve been rejected by them, too, but your gamble seems to have paid off.

“And who is this pretty young thing?” Sammy asks charmingly, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. You don’t even have to pretend to blush under the scrutiny of both titans.

“Oh, this is the delightful Miss Dolores,” Frank says, “Elvis’ girl.”

“Ah, I knew that kid had good taste,” Sammy smiles.

“We weren’t sure if you were joining us today,” Frank says, looking not so casually behind you.

Three, two, one, you count silently.

“Oh, well, I—” you start.

“There you are, darlin’! Wanted to let you sleep in after such a long day yesterday,” Elvis says, smoothly sidling in beside you and planting a kiss to your temple.

You hide your smile at your presumption coming true and at the suggestive nature of his comment. A dismissive “Mmhmm,” is all you give him back, though. You don’t even look at him.

“You know, my mother was a huge fan of you both,” you gush instead to the other men in front of you, ignoring Elvis. “She passed years ago, but any time I hear That Old Black Magic or Birth of the Blues, I can’t help but think of her.”

It’s not a lie, nor is the sudden swell of emotion you have at the thought of your mother listening and singing along to those tunes while she made supper. You sniffle and let out a little laugh.

Perhaps you imagine the gentle squeeze at your waist.

“Look at me, getting all flustered,” you say, waving away your tears.

Madone, why am I so emotional today?

“Oh, we’re just honored to be a part of your memories like that, honey,” Sammy says kindly, and you feel Elvis stiffen beside you at the endearment.

“Frank, Elvis, we’re ready for the Love Me Tender/Witchcraftrun-through,” George, the very serious production assistant, interrupts.

Elvis starts directing you away. “Okay, then, baby, why don’t you—”

“Oh, I’d love to hear more about your mother, if you want to share,” Sammy says to you. “Don’t worry, Elvis, she’ll be safe with me.” He winks, reaching for your hand.

“I’m sure she—” Elvis starts.

“Well, how could I refuse the great Sammy Davis Jr.?” you interrupt, a little coyly. Part of you wonders when you became so bold as to flirt so shamelessly with men like this.

You aren’t feeling much like your old self these days.

Maybe that’s a good thing.

Tension ripples off Elvis and you honestly couldn’t have planned it better.

You can tell Elvis doesn’t want to offend Sammy as he hems and haws a bit too long. “Sure, sure, of course. I’ll come find ya after,” he finally gets out, a tad flippantly, and you don’t miss the amusement in Frank’s sparkling blue eyes as he leads Elvis away.

If you thought that would be the end of it, you were sorely mistaken. Your pleasure at winning the battle distracts you momentarily, making you think you’ve taught the man a lesson by giving him a taste of his own medicine.

You were wrong.

Instead, Elvis has doubled down on his nonchalant dismissal of you, barely even acknowledging your presence. Suddenly, there are more girls around than before and all of them seemed more than happy to be on the arm of the all-too-handsome singer, even if only for a moment.

You realize fleetingly he’d been true to his word in keeping the girls away before now because of your perceived relationship. But not anymore.

His message seems clear, even though you still don’t understand the reason behind it: You are easily replaced.

If you were actually his girlfriend, maybe that would be true. For a second, you feel the sting of his rejection as if you were just some poor girl fawning over him.

But the reality is much more complicated. Much worse is the dread pooling in your stomach at the thought of being fired and having to fend for yourself against the wolves nipping at your heels. As much as you don’t trust the Colonel, you don’t imagine he’d cast you aside so easily considering everything you know and the pains it would take to bring another nurse into the fold. And Elvis is smart enough to know it. It is a bit of a salve to the fear churning in your belly.

No, what Elvis is doing seems like some sort of strange tantrum, like he’s hurt and sending you a message the only way he knows how. What it truly could be, you have no idea, but having a slew of younger brothers, you understand that sometimes boys just need to wear themselves out with their nonsense. Doesn’t make it any less frustrating or humiliating for you, but you’ve been through worse than an adult man being immature and unable to communicate his feelings.

You almost wish his health was struggling a bit more because it would force him to engage with you. As it stands, he is the picture of health right now and he is only listening to you out of the necessity of keeping up appearances or when you have the gall to talk to another man.

It stings more than you want it to. More than it should.

It’s easy to blame it on the ever-growing fatigue you can’t seem to shake and on the fact you have less experience dealing with these kinds of relationships than most girls your age. It’s not as if you have a lot to compare it to, or even any girlfriends or relatives you talk to in order to help you try and understand what is wrong with him.

A deep loneliness sinks down over you suddenly, threatening to drown you in the overwhelming realization that you truly have only yourself to keep you steady. The worst part is Elvis is the only one who has any understanding of you at all, and for whatever reason, he is shutting you out. You force back the tears trying to spring to your eyes, swallowing your grief and resignation.

Instead of giving him the satisfaction of seeing you mope as he entertains the girls the other guys have procured for the evening, you smile and keep up pleasantries for as long as you can before retiring to the bedroom to read. Not that you are able to, as the words keep swimming in your vision and you stay on the same page for much too long. Finally, you close your eyes against the emotional tide and your persistent headache, and it’s not until Elvis comes to bed that you stir again.

You don’t open your eyes, however, though you can feel him looking at you. His gaze burns through you, making your heart race. There’s a long moment of silence before he finally undresses, gets in the bed, and turns out the light.

March 26th, 1960

The studio is vibrating with energy. Not only are the people involved in the show bustling about, but the audience, packed full of young women, is tittering so much that you can feel it in your bones.

Surprisingly, Charlie came out and grabbed you after Elvis’ appearance in the opening. Elvis looked smart in the dress uniform he’d been so glad to be rid of those first days you’d met. While he’d been nicer to you today in general, you are unsure why he wants you backstage after the way he’d shooed you out before the show started. But there are thirty more minutes before his performance, and you are suddenly concerned he’s not doing as well as he made himself out to be.

You make your way back into the dressing room, trying to offset your own nerves. You slept terribly, thinking too much about your future, mulling over every worst-case scenario again and again in your head. But the moment you enter the dressing room, it all goes out the window.

Elvis turns around when the door opens, an absolute vision in a black tuxedo that does everything to show off his long frame. Everything.There’s no helping the sharp intake of breath you try to swallow and the way your feet stick to the floor as you take him in from top to bottom. He is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome.

His dark hair is swooped back on the sides, but styled tall and soft in the front, adding the appearance of at least three inches to his height and highlighting his long, chiseled jaw. His artfully applied makeup is subtle and does everything to show off his deep blue bedroom eyes.

Eyes that just happen to be swallowing you whole. A wave of heat washes over your entire body. You feel suspended in time and know you are gawking, but despite having spent over three weeks solid with the man, enduring every quirk and his maddening mood swings, you hadn’t been prepared to see him at his best.

Oh, Madone.

He has you locked down with his gaze, and while every professional bone in your body screams at you to be normal, it’s impossible. Every reason you’d been furious with him for the past week is forgotten in the blink of an eye. It’s as if it is suddenly dawning on you why Elvis Presley is who he is and that you’ve been working for him all this time without really realizing it.

“A-alright, everybody out. I need to talk to my Little Bird alone,” he drawls, but the command is crystal clear, sending all the boys filing out behind you. His nickname for you has never sounded so utterly sinful coming out of his mouth before. Your heart thuds in your chest and you hope to God Elvis cannot hear it or see the flush on your cheeks.

The door clicks shut, and Elvis sighs audibly in what seems like relief, his shoulders sagging a bit, and as he deflates, it breaks whatever strange spell he had on you. He adjusts his cufflinks nervously, then shakes his hands at his sides, bouncing on his toes, like he’s trying to expel the nerves out his limbs.

“Are you okay?” you ask, finally able to speak again.

“O-oh, honey, I-I-I-I’m so damn scared, I feel like my heart’s ‘bout ready to fly right o-o-outta my chest,” he stutters, looking at you as though you can provide him some relief. “S’like I can’t breathe.”

This kicks you into gear, the need to make sure he is healthy enough to perform washing away the awe at the handsome figure he cuts.

“You’re okay, just take off your jacket and sit down,” you guide him gently. He doesn’t fight you at all, but you can see the way he trembles with anxiety. The change in him seems strange to you considering the easy ego he’s been coasting on for weeks.

Maybe he’s been such a jerk because he’s been nervous, you think suddenly. As quick as it comes, you push it back out again, wanting to focus on his care.

You don’t have all your things, but you take his pulse, which is noticeably racing, and his breathing seems fast but not wheezing.

“I-I-I’m not dying, am I? W-w-what i-if I-I go o-out there and p-pass out in front of—” He is stuttering so much, it’s hard to understand what he’s saying, but his fear is clear: he’s terrified he’s going to mess up this critical piece of his comeback in front of the world and some of the greatest performers out there.

“Elvis,” you say gently, grabbing his hands in yours and stilling them. Once his fearful, wide eyes find yours, you continue, “You’re going to be just fine. You aren’t going to die out there, I promise. Now, take a deep breath with me.” You inhale deeply, hold, and then exhale nice and long, then do it again until he’s matching you.

In, out, in, out, again and again.

The breathing has just as much effect on you as it does him. The energy in the room calms substantially, your fears and his dissipating a little more with each breath.

You’re not quite sure how long you sit there with him, his hands dwarfing yours, but when he opens his eyes and meets yours, you can all at once see every iteration of Elvis Presley coexisting in harmony: the playful boy, the charming but humble superstar, the fiery and moody young man. He is both the most human you’ve ever seen him, yet the most ethereal in the same breath. The vulnerability and complexity astound you speechless once again.

“You are magic, Little Bird,” he says softly, eyes tracking over your face. Your heart skips a beat, then two. You’re in freefall for a few seconds before you can tear your eyes away from him enough to regain your wits.

When you look back at him, his face is a handsome mask, giving little away. Perhaps it’s just him preparing to perform, locking some of himself away. But something tells you there is more to it than that.

His thumbs trace up and down, sweeping between your thumbs and pointer fingers in the same rhythm as your breath. Somehow it grounds you while still making you feel a bit dizzy. He says you are magic, but he is the one enchanting you and all at once you want to tell him everything. Every single thing weighing on your mind. All your fears. The feelings you are starting to have for him that terrify you. How you see him. How you’ve deceived him to protect him. To protect yourself. It’s not the right time, it never is, but it’s like he’s drawing it out of you with his caress. You can’t bear for him to go cold on you again, not when he’s your only glimmer of hope.

They say the truth will set you free.

The words start to tumble out of their own accord, “Elvis, I need to tell you—”

A sharp rap at the door interrupts your confession before it even starts, and your heart catches in your throat.

“Places, Mr. Presley!” George yells through the door.

“Thank you!” he yells back. His eyes shine with something hopeful behind them when he turns his attention back to you, almost expectant. “Save that thought, honey.”

It’s all you can do to nod, tamping down on the adrenaline pouring through your veins. He leaps up, releasing your hands, severing the connection you hadn’t realized until right now you needed so much. Pulling his jacket on, he adjusts, and you stop him, craving the sense of intimacy that is slipping through your fingers like a sieve. You step up to him, straightening and smoothing the velvet lapels of his jacket. Your hands linger a moment too long near the button and you look at them, unable to stop the heat on your cheeks or to look up into Elvis’ eyes.

“Wish me luck, baby?” he says playfully, but with an edge of need you force yourself to ignore. He squeezes your hands, encouraging you to raise your head. You school your features into something calmer than what you feel.

“You don’t need it. You’ll be amazing and they’ll love you. They already do,” you say. It comes out much more breathless than you’d like, and you look everywhere but in his eyes.

The air gets heavy, crushing all sensibility, and you can’t help your eyes darting up then. His full lips part the slightest bit, his body leaning forward enough to make your breath catch. Suddenly every one of your nerves is on fire, crawling under your skin, something new and forbidden winding its way into your belly.

He’s only ever kissed you in a performative way, playing to an audience, but this, this is different. The way those sapphire eyes drink you in is much too much. You’re drowning in them, wondering how different it will be if he kisses you and not pretend-girlfriend you. He is so close you can smell the now-familiar, delicious waft of his cologne and feel the heat of his breath on your face.

Oh, Madone, we can’t. The thought stabs through your head with a panic, straightening your spine like a ramrod, and Elvis is nothing if not observant. So expertly does he change course you doubt he had any other intention than to press his open mouth to your cheek. The soft feeling has you sighing, but you aren’t sure if it’s in relief or disappointment.

Not unlike the look on his face.

Stepping back breaks the tension in the air enough for you to recover what is left of your wits. You smooth the front of your dress. “Would you like me in the audience or backstage?” You hope it comes out more professional than you feel.

“Needja out front. Wanna be able to see your pretty face unable to take your eyes off me,” he jokes, oozing charm, but his twitching hands and serious eyes belie his nervousness.

“Oh, we’ll see.” You roll your eyes, playing into what he seems to need in this moment from you, though your heart is still galloping enough that you feel breathless. You barely register opening the door and walking back out to your seat in the audience, feeling the roll of anxiety in your stomach, both for his performance and for what you almost let happen in the dressing room.

Before you can spiral too far into beating yourself up, Frank is up introducing Elvis. The girls in the studio go so wild, they sound possessed, chants of “We want Elvis!” devolving into shrieking. You resist the urge to stick your fingers in your ears to protect your eardrums.

But then Elvis, in all his breathtaking beauty, is ambling downstage, managing to be cool, casual, and charming, but also bashful, like he didn’t expect this reaction. And it’s not a put on.

He didn’t think they’d still love him, you realize.

The way he bites his lip, then runs his tongue over his teeth before erupting into an almost embarrassed grin makes your heart flutter at its sweetness because you know just how scared he is. His skill, however, is that no one else does.

He turns to signal the band and the first bars of Fame and Fortune come in. The man who turns around to sing is someone much different than the bashful boy of just a second ago. The sultry look he throws the audience takes your breath away, but as he waits to come in, he can’t totally hold the pose, that lip of his curling up and his tongue trying to banish it in the name of being serious. The girls scream in response, eating it up, and you can’t say you blame them. He looks up to the sky, perhaps saying a silent prayer, to regain his composure before he opens his mouth to sing.

Now, in the last few weeks, you’ve become well acquainted with his gifted voice, but it is not until this very moment you understand the scope of his talent. The spell that he casts over the room feels nearly as intimate as the one he had with you in the dressing room just minutes ago. The nervousness you know is there is so artfully maneuvered that it opens him to the audience rather than pushing them away. Few other stars would get away with smiling and laughing at the reaction of their audience in the middle of their ballad but when he does it, you feel it down to your toes.

Or maybe it’s the how his voice is like silk in your ears, a contradiction of impressively light but warm and rich. The honeyed timbre winds its way down your spine, right into the core of you. It’s not just in your body but your soul, too. The hair on your arms stands straight up, a visceral reaction proving his effect on you isn’t in your imagination.

A woman could fall in love with that voice alone.

Despite the way you want to fight the hold of his performance and its battle in your mind with the man you’re getting to know, it is quite impossible. You get utterly sucked into the tide of Elvis Presley.

He is stunning.

You can’t help the way your mouth drops open and your palms begin to sweat. There is brilliance in every move and sound he makes, and you’re amazed at his ability to include everyone in the room, from the camera, the band and backup singers, to how those bedroom eyes scan the entirety of the audience in one breath. You feel like you’ve been struck by lightning every time they catch yours.

If you weren’t so dumbstruck, you might chastise yourself for feeling so carried away, but it’s hard not to feel like he’s sharing something important with you right now—an essential part of his soul, this thing he was obviously born to do. It brings tears to your eyes.

As the song winds down, you and the rest of the audience mourn its end. But in the split second he bows his head and bites his lip, you see the utter relief that fills him at the realization that he’s still got it. Then the upbeat lilt of Stuck on You comes in and he’s immediately reinvigorated.

He knows he has you all now, and it’s as if suddenly his body remembers everything that made him a star. Sure, it’s toned down some for his new adult image, but those unique movements are still there. He’s playful and energized in a way you’ve never seen him before. It’s not just in his long limbs (which you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from) but also in his voice. Flirtatious and silly, he wraps you all around his snapping fingers.

The girls are going crazy and rightly so: you find yourself having to bite down on your lip to keep from squealing with them. A bead of sweat runs down your spine and you cross and uncross your legs to try and stave off the total, uncontrolled insanity you are feeling trying to reconcile this Elvis with the one you sleep in the same bed with, the one you care for when he’s so ill he can barely function.

Nothing about this is remotely helping the feelings for him you know are brewing under the surface. It’s like being dragged under by a riptide—you can’t fight it, not now, and you just have to give yourself over to the current.

But one thing is for certain: there is nothing sane about any of this.

You can see even Frank is off kilter because when he comes out for the duet, this cool-as-a-cucumber, wildly talented star in his own right is stumbling over his lines. The man is struggling to maintain his dominance as the host and the elder, more refined performer. Sensing what you think is his competitive edge, you watch Frank rebound for control as best he can, but even he has got to know Elvis is in a class of his own. He’s upstaging Frank without even trying.

Part of you knows you are witnessing history in the making. You can hardly believe it. A month ago, you were living an entirely different life. You certainly didn’t care much for Elvis in the beginning, and now you want nothing more than to stay in his orbit. It’s strange to feel so starstruck around him.

The whole thing is madness.

You are still buzzing and a bit dazed when Charlie pulls you backstage. The prideful, overly logical part of your brain wants you to calm yourself before you see Elvis, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a big head around you, but the giddy girl in you doesn’t care. That silly little girl eats up the grin spreading across Elvis’ face and falls straight into his open arms. He hugs you tight, like he means it. It feels real and not for the benefit of all those around you thinking you’re the adoring girlfriend congratulating him on his triumph. The way he squeezes you and presses his lips to your temple feels special and just for you.

“What didja think, Little Bird?” he whispers in your ear.

“Oh, well, the guys did great, and Nancy was lovely,” you hear yourself teasing.

The playful, possessive little growl he makes and the way his fingers press into your ribcage has you fighting unsuccessfully to suppress the shudder of excitement running through you. You curl your toes in your heels trying to absorb the heady feeling it leaves you with to get yourself right enough to speak again.

“Well, I’m a bit loathe to admit it, but you were wonderful,” you finally say, looking up at him and placing your hand on his chest. His heart thumps wildly under your palm and under any other circumstance you might be concerned, but you let it be. This is his moment.

“Better than Ricky Nelson?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at you.

“Hmm, marginally,” you tut, trying to keep a straight face.

“’Marginally’, huh? I’ll show you marginal!” he laughs. And then he buries his head in your neck, his hot breath and soft lips pebbling your skin and setting your body aflame. You don’t recognize the gasping giggles erupting from you like a schoolgirl.

It’s all for show it’s all for show it’s all for show…a voice in your head viciously reminds you.

“Okay, okay!” you laugh breathlessly, trying to still his ministrations. “I will concede that you, Elvis Presley, are a very talented man.”

“Oooh, am I now?” He wiggles his brows suggestively, sending another wash of heat over your body.

Your mouth pops open, but before you can think to respond, someone cuts in. “Hey, Presley, quit making googly eyes at your girl and get over here!”

Elvis responds by doing the silly little thing he does with his eyes that makes all the girls scream and you can’t help but laugh.

The moment he walks away, taking his warm essence with him, you find yourself deflate a little. It sobers you quickly and the letdown of the entire experience has you unexpectedly emotional. Without his warmth and light, you feel cold and unprotected and alone.

Sneaking away to the restroom, you lock yourself in with shaking hands. Oh, God, what is wrong with me? you think as the tears well and then escape in rivulets down your cheeks. You swipe at them, fighting what you fear is happening but cannot quite admit to yourself.

You refuse to be like every other woman, falling over your own feet for Elvis. Desperate for any sliver of attention, living for his small touches and knowing gazes. Blinded by his talent and fame.

You are not that girl. Breathing in and out, trying to calm yourself, you remember he is just a flesh-and-blood man, and you cannot give another man the power to hurt you again. He is your employer, your patient, and nothing more.

Liar.

Pushing those treacherous thoughts away, you switch tacks. You need to protect him from the storm you know is coming but your survival instincts are doing everything possible to keep you safe, and Elvis might be the only person who can do that. Telling him about Gianni and your background risks his rejection. Your heart aches at the idea of him letting you go, and not just because of your safety. There’s no way you can tell him the truth about you now, not when he’s flying so high, not when for the first time in weeks you finally feel connected with him again.

Maybe too connected.

No, you’ll just have to wait until the right time. You can’t spoil this for him. Talk of Gianni and your father would destroy this goodness, and you can’t let them destroy anything else.

Forcing yourself to put it on the back burner, you paste on a smile and play the devoted girlfriend for the rest of the evening. Every little touch is like tinder catching flame under your skin—his hand around your waist, thumb grazing so near your breast, his fingers interlocking with yours—and the sparkle in his eyes makes your heart dance against your ribcage. It’s easy to believe he truly cares and that he’s yours.

He's a better actor than they give him credit for.

For once, you let yourself lean into it, pretending he wants you. You are swept up into his joy and relief and affection. It’s an addictive and glorious drug. By the time you both stumble exhausted into the bedroom of the suite, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

Your body hums a little from the glass of champagne you allowed yourself, mind buzzing with the excitement of the day and from your proximity to the man of the hour. Elvis seems to be much in the same boat, riding high and energized as he takes off his jacket, throwing it over the chair in the corner. The tiny tie was lost long ago when he unbuttoned his top buttons at the studio and sweat glistens in the divot between his collarbones as he begins rolling up his sleeves. You were unaware until this very moment how attractive forearms could be.

Suddenly your mouth feels very dry. You lick your lips, watching his every movement.

Elvis looks up quickly, catching your undivided attention, and his lip quirks in a slow smirk that is both sinful and self-conscious. His eyes flash with a heat that makes your toes curl into the soles your shoes and your pulse flutter wildly.

Oh, no. No. I will not get flustered by Elvis.

Cheeks heating, you look away and focus every ounce of attention you have on undoing the straps on your heels.

Elvis starts to hum a song you don’t immediately recognize, the sound vibrating and warm and sultry. Like a siren’s song, it threatens to hypnotize you. It distracts you enough that you fumble with the stubborn clasp on your heel, unable to wrench the leather free of the buckle. You let out a huff.

“Here. Lemme help, baby,” he says, more a soft command than an offer, the sound wrapping around you like velvet. He kneels before you, placing your foot on his knee, his long, nimble fingers working the strap free. If you hadn’t already been holding your breath, the way he gently massages the crease the strap left on your ankle through your stockings might have caused you to gasp.

“How’d I never notice these pretty lil’ sooties?” he coos, rubbing his thumb into the sore arch of your foot.

You bite back the moan threatening to slip free due to the sensation, but it escapes anyway, as a tiny whimper instead. Perhaps you imagine the way the apples of his cheeks go pink at the sound. Either way, you feel like you are about to come apart at the seams.

He makes slow work of massaging your foot and then placing it back down. You suck in a breath, just as he grabs the other and repeats the action of freeing then massaging it.

“Elvis,” you gasp much too breathlessly. You want to melt into the sensation, but the rest of your body feels like it’s on fire, a molten pit growing in your belly that you can’t seem to stop. You should push him away, you know you should, because this is too much, too intimate, but you can’t seem to will yourself to do so.

“Hmm?” he replies innocently, as if he truly has no idea what he has reduced you to. His hand squeezes down your foot until he reaches your toes. “Oh, honey, why ain’t these perfect lil’ piggies painted?” he asks, near scandalized.

The question throws you. “I…I’ve never seen the need,” you stutter out. “It’s not as though anyone would see them and being on my feet all day in the ward would just ruin them…”

His brows furrow. “Not even with your girlfriends? Or for a day at the beach?” he asks, genuinely confused as to why a young lady would never paint her toenails.

Your heart aches acutely all the sudden. The words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them: “I didn’t have many friends like that. Or time to spend with them. I was busy raising my brothers and then I left for nursing school….”

“Oh.” He says it so softly and full of compassion you nearly want to cry. Then, his demeanor shifts. “Well, all that changes now, Little Bird.” He gives your feet one last pat and then smoothly lifts himself off his knees, going towards the door.

“What?” you ask, confused. This man has your head spinning.

He flings the door open. “Hey, Charlie! Charlie!” he yells into the penthouse.

“Yeah?” you hear Charlie call back.

“I need you to get some nail polish. Pink is best, but red’ll do.”

You hear a long pause, then a shuffle. “Ummm, where am I gonna find polish in the middle of the night, EP?”

Elvis sighs. “Use yer brain, buddy. You tellin’ me none of those girls out there has any polish on ‘em? I have faith you can figure it out.” Then he shuts the door with a grin.

Dumbfounded, you gape at him. “You can’t be serious, Elvis. It’s late and we need to get some rest…I don’t particularly want to paint my toenails right now. And truth be told, I’m not very good at it,” you say, feeling panicked by the whole idea. The idea of him watching you trying and failing to paint your toes makes you squirm.

He just grins. “Good thing I ain’t tired, then, baby! You can relax and I’ll take care of it. Go get in your jammies.”

Your brain feels broken. He can’t possibly be suggesting what you think he is. Your mouth opens, then closes, then opens again.

“Close that purty mouth—you look like a big ol’ guppy over ‘dere,” he laughs, his accent seeming stronger than usual. “Now, go on—get ready for bed,” he orders, pulling you off the bed.

“Elvis—”

“Nope, don’ wanna hear it, honey! Go!”

Which is how you find yourself in the bathroom, changing into the modest but silky, white, button up pajamas Elvis bought for you on your shopping spree a few weeks ago and doing your nightly routine with a flock of very baffled butterflies in your stomach. You are also a little afraid for the state of your toes by the time this is all said and done.

And yet, Elvis manages to surprise you again, not only with the fact that Charlie was indeed able to get his hands on pearly pink nail polish at this hour, but with his ability to paint nails. It’s more than adorable the way he concentrates on getting it right, tongue caught between his teeth, even sticking cotton between your toes to keep them apart. Usually, you would hate having someone touch your feet, but he’s so gentle about it and you are so distracted by how unbelievable the situation is and how a dark lock of hair falls imperfectly over his forehead as he bends over your toes that you can’t bring yourself to tell him no.

As always, time seems to warp with him, and it’s so late it’s early. You find yourself yawning, wiggling your freshly pink toenails in a state of strangely pleased disbelief.

“You like ‘em, Little Bird?” he asks, eyes shining with an unexpected need of approval.

“Yes, they are lovely. If this singing thing doesn’t work out, you could open a salon. The girls would go crazy,” you joke.

He bows his head with a bashful smile, then looks up at you through those long lashes and you feel like the bed has dropped out from under you.

“Naw, this is only for the special lil’ nurses who hafta put up with me every day. No one else.” His eyes twinkle, lighting your body with electricity.

Why does he have to be so charming?

Part of you wants to scream at him to stop being so nice to you. If he knew what trouble you were, what you’ve brought to his doorstep, he’d never be looking at you like this or treating you with such care.

No one since your mother has treated you with such care.

Tears threaten to spring to your eyes, and you push your feelings as far away as you can, as fast as you can.

“Speaking of,” you say, clearing your throat, “I should take your vitals before you sleep.”

Elvis looks confused and maybe a little hurt at your abrupt subject change but recovers quickly enough. “Aww, come on, Little Bird, not tonight. I feel fine, I swear it.”

But you need your armor, and your job gives you that. It gives you space from these stupidly complicated feelings you are having. “Grab my bag and we can prove it.”

Elvis sighs, but does what you say, quiet as you take his temperature, blood pressure, and pulse. When you finish, surprise fills you.

Elvis looks concerned. “What is it? Everythin’ okay? I’m tired, sure, but I feel—”

“No, I know,” you interrupt, “your numbers are good. Apparently a wildly successful comeback performance coupled with giving a late-night pedicure was just the right medicine.” You can’t help but smile at him.

He looks at you wide eyed, then gives you a blinding smile. “Or maybe you’re just that good for me, darlin’.”

Your heart flips in your chest, beating in your throat, but you refuse to let it show on your face. “Sure, mister. Quit your flirting and get in the bed,” you say firmly, only realizing your mistake when he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“To sleep! Go to sleep, Elvis!” you say, rolling your eyes. You cover the blush on your face by turning over to flip off the lamp on your nightstand.

His hiccupping laugh makes you smile in the dark when he slides into the bed next to you. You are acutely aware of the heat of him, and though he doesn’t touch you, you can’t help but sense that he wants to as his chuckles die down to silence.

After a pregnant pause, he speaks again, quiet but direct.

“Was there something you wanted to tell me, honey? From earlier when we got interrupted?”

Your heart trips, then races with both surprise and fear. Thank God he can’t see your face because you are battling the onslaught of thoughts spiraling in your mind.

He won’t understand. He’ll kick you out on the street.

No, don’t keep lying to him. He deserves the truth.

Not now, later.

Protect him, protect him, protect him…

It’s the vision of Gianni ripping out Elvis’ throat that makes the decision for you.

“No, it was nothing,” you whisper shakily, clutching the sheets in your hands.

“Oh,” he says, almost blankly, and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he sounded upset.

But that wouldn’t make sense.

“Goodnight, Elvis,” you say quietly.

“Goodnight, Lori.”

Your stomach drops at how he uses your actual name, all the warmth from earlier gone from his voice. As tired as you are, shame and regret churn in your stomach—a stew of nausea that won’t seem to abate, even after you eventually drift off to sleep.

Three more days you spend in Florida, each one bringing even more maddening behavior from Elvis. Somehow, when you weren’t looking, a switch flipped yet again. He’s rapidly vacillating between moody and sullen to downright cold and cutting.

He keeps you close, to be sure, while going water skiing and taking long drives and cavorting with his friends, but the sweet, compassionate closeness from the night of filming the special is nowhere to be found. You feel like an accessory he strapped to his wrist, desperately trying to make sure he doesn’t run himself ragged with all the “fun” he is having. He doesn’t even attempt to hide the flirting and the inappropriate jokes and jabs not fit for mixed company. No, he does it with you at his side, like he’s trying to make a point.

Even the Colonel is distressed, confronting Elvis about spending too much and making the return trip to Memphis one by bus instead of train as some sort of power move to wrangle the star. Elvis just laughs it off, and in what seems to be true Elvis fashion, he seems to spend more rather than less just to stick it to the Colonel. All of it put together reminds you of the adolescent behavior of your younger brothers.

It’s exhausting, running after this moody man-child who acts like you hung the moon one minute and in the next ignores you. You remind him until you are blue in the face that he must rest and have some semblance of a normal routine when he can, instead of running himself into the ground by overindulging in nearly every sense of the word. The man seems to have no concept of the word “moderation” and as annoyed as you are, you are more worried this will lead to another, more serious episode.

It's easy to blame him for the near-constant headaches and exhaustion ailing you. Having to pretend to go along with his antics as his girlfriend while also having to babysit him as his nurse is continuing to run you ragged. Not to mention the emotional upheaval of trying to piece out your own feelings for him and manage your lingering fear about Gianni at the same time.

The worst, however, is the lack of playfulness Elvis had with you coupled with the brooding silence he shoves between you in your very few moments alone. Nothing reminds you more you are just his nurse. The rest, whatever it was, seems a folly concocted by your addled imagination.

You can’t shake the feeling of being punished for some unknown offense. Maybe it is just your guilt brewing under the surface, trying to make sense of this man. It’s hard to break the habit of feeling like no matter what you do and how good you are at your job, you are somehow still a burden to the men in your life.

But it isn’t just that. Every stunning smile or touch he gives another woman fees barbed and has your blood boiling, even though it shouldn’t. Every sly remark about being “tied down” he makes to the guys makes your skin crawl. Worse yet, he starts poking fun at you any chance he gets, edging more into mean spirited with each jab, and even his friends shoot you apologetic looks by the end of the trip.

And yet another full day with them all, coupled with Elvis’ ire, all the stupid jokes, and the rampant gas that all the men seem to have, this time trapped on a smelly chartered bus, has you feeling claustrophobic and ready to throw yourself out the window. It’s unusual for you to feel so bothered by such things—you grew up in a houseful of men after all. You learned early on to keep your feelings to yourself, especially to keep off your father’s radar. Patience for rowdy men has historically been one of your greatest virtues, but Elvis has you digging your nails into your knees and biting your tongue more than once as the bus slowly ambles towards Memphis.

He's just an unruly patient—don’t take it personally, you chant to yourself all the way home. You try, you do, but your stomach ties in more knots with each passing mile and with the memory of feeling cared for by him contradicting everything he’s lobbing at you.

By the time you arrive back at Graceland, you are ruing all your life decisions. Despite reminding yourself of how, logically, you are safer and more secure here than you’ve ever been in your life, you’ve reached your limit of patience with Elvis and his entourage for the day. Maybe the week. Or the month.

Oh, Madone, how am I supposed to do this for the unforeseen future if I can’t make it a month with this man?

At least here you can safely put some space between you. You fly off the bus as soon as the door opens.

“Hey! Hey, where do you think you’re goin’?” he yells from behind you.

Why do you care? is what you want to say, but you swallow the urge instead.

You keep walking down the driveway, away from the house, pretending you don’t hear him. Nothing good can come from you answering him right now, not when you are feeling so on edge. Besides that, it’s hard to think with the throbbing behind your eyes and the slight carsickness rolling in your stomach from being on the bus all day.

“Lori, stop! Goddammit, Dolores, where. Are. You. Goin’?” he shouts, punctuating each word, your name rolling off his tongue like an admonishment. You stop in your tracks. It infuriates you he deems to use your given name like you’re the one who has done something wrong, like it’s your behavior that’s been so poor.

“Away from you!” you shout back at him, unable to keep your frustration locked in any longer.

Your heart sinks, immediately knowing you’ve overstepped but annoyed enough not to quit while you’re ahead. You start walking again, hurrying away as if you can still escape this whole situation.

The chorus of men chuckling and “oooh”ing at Elvis as they amble off the bus does not help matters.

“What the hell did you just say?” he growls low, his large strides hard on the pavement as they try to catch up with your smaller ones. “Hey, don’t walk away from me when I’m talkin’ to ya!”

“Leave me alone, Elvis! It’s obvious you’ve wanted me out of your hair for weeks, so go! Do whatever it is you need to do to get whatever this is out of your system,” you snap, still stomping forward, pulling your coat tight around your middle as you try to reacclimate to the early spring chill in the air. “Go…get laid or something,” you mutter, surprised at your own crassness.

“Hey! Stop bein’ such a b-bitch and stop walkin’ away from me!” he roars, grabbing your upper arm to pull you around.

You gasp as his rough touch lances through you, sending a lightning bolt of fear down to your toes. “Get your hands off me!” you hiss, violently yanking away from his grasp. Your heart knocks unpleasantly in your chest, faster and faster as your breath heaves. Part of you wants to run away as fast as you can, but you are frozen in place.

He’s not Gianni, a soft voice whispers. He won’t hurt you.

You want to believe it, you really do, but the fact is you barely know this man. You’ve wanted to believe so badly he is warm and caring, you’ve wanted to trust him because there is no one else you can, but your hopes don’t make it true.

Seeing your distress, something besides anger flashes in Elvis’ eyes and he quickly drops his arm from you.

All your pent-up fury washes over you then and you lash out uncharacteristically. “And don’t you dare call me a bitch when you’ve been acting the way you have,” you spit back at him.

He shutters his look of shock at your outburst so quickly you barely see it before flames darken his eyes again. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. You’re just crazy.” It’s cutting but it’s obvious you struck a nerve.

Blood rushes in your ears, your heart pounding and your head throbbing with a hundred emotions threatening to tear you apart.

You’ve never felt so bold or off the rails before, but the words fly out of you with little thought of the consequences as you point your finger at him. “Listen to me, Elvis Presley: I’m not Anita or one of your sycophantic girlfriends you can play your silly little hot-and-cold mind games with. I’m not crazy. I’m here to do a job. And instead of letting me, you are making it hard every step of the way. For days you’ve been sulking around like a child who hasn’t gotten his way instead of communicating like an adult what is wrong!”

Elvis’ eyes go wide as he reels back like you’ve slapped him in the face. Then his brow furrows, eyes blazing before locking you out once more.

“Oh, you’d know all about mind games, wouldn’t ya, honey?” he says coldly, advancing on you. “Why communicate w-w-when y-you can just pretend it’s not happenin’ and run away? I’m sure your fee-an-cè and his mafia buddies would have a lot to say about that, now, huh?”

Your heart screeches to a stop.

Dio mio…he knows.

“Elvis…” you breathe out, and then you can’t seem to breathe in again. Your shock is eclipsed by the fact somehow Elvis knows your secret. Everything else is forgotten. All your panicked mind can think of is how Gianni or your father somehow got to Elvis and they must be here, now, to take you back to New York.

An involuntary shudder overtakes you as you whisper, “How?”

“Oh, your good friend Sinatra told me the w-w-whole damn East Coast of mobsters is pissed o-off. Called you some mafia princess Helen of Troy and told me to cut you loose, if I-I-I knew w-what w-was good for me,” Elvis barrels on, his handsome face dark and storming with anger.

“What?” It’s so breathless, you aren’t sure you said it aloud. Frank knew? Of course.

Oh, God, everyone knows.

They are coming for me.

The acid in your stomach bubbles, and if it weren’t empty, the contents would be spilled over Elvis’ expensive shoes.

“I-It w-was humiliatin’, not knowin’ what the hell he was talkin’ about! But you wanna know the worst of it, Lori? That I gave you every chance to tell me and you still didn’t. You lied. I thought…” Elvis keeps speaking, his low voice angry and hurt, but suddenly it sounds like he’s in a wind tunnel. All your focus turns inward, though you are vaguely aware that you are shaking like a leaf.

Elvis is going to send me back.

And he has every right. He’s got to protect himself. You were selfish and brought this to his doorstep and didn’t even have the courtesy to warn him. Then he had to go and hear it from Frank of all people.

It was no wonder he’s been acting so strange.

He’s been preparing to let me go.

Your chest constricts and your heart aches. It feels like betrayal, though you know it’s not. You are the one who betrayed him, not the other way around. You’d thought maybe Elvis was different, he’d shown you such compassion at your worst moments, but that was before he knew what you’d dragged him into. And you are a horrible for doing it. Maybe you deserve the hell you know Gianni will put you through.

There is no stopping the tears from pouring down your cheeks.

“I-I’m so, so sorry,” you sob, now a hiccupping, shivering mess.

Gianni’s obsidian eyes and horrific smile when he sees you again flash in your mind. “Hello, Bella…”

Oh, Madone, I can’t go back, I can’t. He’ll kill me. Or worse…

The air in your lungs seems to evaporate, leaving you gasping and dizzy. That weightless space, the one you go to when you can’t bear to feel anymore, awaits you, but you can’t seem to reach it because Elvis is grabbing your shoulders, the anger gone from his eyes and replaced with concern. But he is tethering you to reality when all you want to do is disappear. And you can’t help but feel like you’ve damned him.

Your stomach churns once more and you lose the battle, heaving bile off to the side and onto the pavement. It steals what little strength and air you have left, and the edges of your vision bleed black, like the shadow of Gianni is finally here to take you away.

I’m sorry, is the only thought left when your knees buckle and your body crumbles into Elvis’ arms.

Then there is just dark, blissful silence.

Thank you for reading and supporting my work!! As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated if you enjoyed what you read! 💗

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

@littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

@precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog @xenaspace3-blog

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

#broken glass #broken glass ch 9 #elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis fanfic #elvis fanfiction #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis smut #elvis x oc #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis x dolores #elvis presley x oc #elvis 1960 #frank sinatra #italian mafia #1960

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angelthefirst1 · 3 months

Text

You're a dinosaur 🦕 baby in the museum of my broken hearted 💔 past.

I haven't done much in the way of deciphering Emily's social media posts lately, but this one's GIANT, so hold onto your hats (Puns intended)

Just as the show has been leaving us hints about Beth's return, so has Emily in her projects, music, and social media posts.

I've written about many of them over the years, this one is no different, and it's no coincidence...

Most of you will know about Emily's new merch beanie with the broken-hearted dinosaur 🦕

It's inspired by her song Avett Brothers. Here is a snippet of the relevant lyrics from the song.

The broken-hearted dinosaur 🦕 and the museum are without question links to Beth's return, so let's look at how...

In season 5, Daryl and Carol jump into a car to go find Beth.

That car eventually helps Daryl find her.

That car is also connected to the episode Consumed, in which Daryl and Carol (after being recently reunited in 501) find a clue to Beth's whereabouts and go searching for her.

And It's by that car they get the initial clue that helps them to find Beth (Daryl sees the car with the white cross)

I'm sure you all remember that Carol plays a pivotal role in getting that car to work by charging the battery.

That car from back in season 5 has a very specific symbol on the keyring 🦕

Without that dinosaur keyring and Carol charging the battery, Daryl would never have found Beth.

The upcoming Book of Carol seemingly has many repeating themes from around the era of Consumed.

We will see a Daryl/Carol reunion, like we saw in 501.

The two will again be separated from the rest of their family like they were in Consumed (thanks in large part to the dinosaur 🦕 and the clue they receive)

The character Isabelle (Beth proxy) will be returning in season 2.

And, we know the storyline will bring them to a museum - The Louvre.

The broken-hearted dinosaur 🦕 is symbolic of a lost ancient giant love that is long in the past, thought to be extinct.

What's kept in museums? The past... they hold pieces of history.

In this case, as Emily puts it, a dinosour, aka ancient love ❤️

Emily knows. She's always known...

The show has more recently given us links to Beth and museums as well.

We saw it hinted at in Daryl Dixon season 1, especially in the credits with the self-portrait of Marie Gabrielle-Carpet, who lived in a museum...the Louvre, with her love.

Isabelle was a very obvious Beth proxy in DD1, and this self-portrait of Marie in the opening credits is shown along with the name of the actess who plays Isabelle. Linking the Museum to Isabelle and by proxy to Beth.

Genet in DD1 also mentions working in a museum to Codron when she realises Codron has switched sides and betrayed her by not killing Isabelle (Beth) and Laurent and stopping them from getting to the Nest (a representation of the pyramid/Louvre)

Thorne in TOWL episode one, a repeat of Dawn and Genet in many ways, also mentions a museum to Rick.

She tell Rick that the girl they saved, lived in a museum. The dead overran the museum, but the girl was saved by hiding in a giant grasshopper. That girl lost her family and had no one.

The giant grasshopper symbolism is linked here to a museum - linking it to Beth (also grasshoppers are Greene).

In this story, the girl that lost her family survived inside the museum, inside the (green) grasshopper.

Just like the key ring dinosaur in season 5. The dinosaur 🦕 museum in The Book of Carol could very well lead to a clue about Beth and a long lost love ❤️.

Now, If you read my last post, i mention the many links to the biblical story of Moses that were seen in TOWL episode 2. Well the "Giant" and "Grasshopper" symbolism is another link to the story of Moses, when he is leading his people into the promised land.

The verse they are pulling from in the story Thorne tells is in Numbers 13.33

There we saw the giants and we were like grasshoppers in our own sight, and so we were in their sight.”

When Moses leads his people to the outskirts of the promised land, they send scouts ahead, to go into the land before entering it. The above verse is what the scouts report back.

They saw Giants in the land and they seemed liked grasshoppers because they were so small in comparison.

I've written before how the Nest (pyramid shaped) in Daryl Dixon season 1 and the Louvre are both representations of the promised land in the story of Moses.

I also wrote about a promotion for The book of Carol x that gave her the symbolism of Balaam's donkey. (another link to the promised land)

And now we have this "Giant", "Grasshopper" and Museum symbolism linked to a museum to add to it all.

Overall, these symbols represent repeating history, and history is a dinosaur museum...Emily gave us a "key" to unlock the symbolism.

The Wolf comes home through repeating the past and a clue to her return is linked to a dinosaur 🦕 and museums and love, so the book of Carol is going to be very interesting, especially as we know that wolf 🐺 = Louvre.

Could the dinosaurs 🦕 broken heart 💔 be mended ❤️ by going back in time...to a museum of the broken-hearted past?

With (the book of) Carol holding the key? 🔑 🦕

The beginning is the end

🦕💔🦕💔♾️ 💔🦕💔🦕

#team delusional #team defiance #team beth lives #bethyl #beth greene #beth is alive #beth is coming #beth greene lives #td #beth x daryl #emily kinney

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parkkiablah · 6 months

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Your writing is soooo good! I've loved everything you've done .

Could I give a prompt of Zevlor X Tiefling Tav ( purple Tielfing )

That after she's rescued the tieflings from moonrise and discovered that Zevlor is missing. There heart breaks as they think they now have forever missed the chance to tell him there true feelings 💔

But they take that anger and sadness and fight kethric and when they find zevlor and maybe bring him with them to finish the fight ( I wish we could bring him with us in game )

Anyway they get back to camp and Tav ignores everyone and looks for zevlor and when they find him they hug him and there tail wraps around his.

(Thank you so much for the request!! I hope you like it 🧡)

Lost Chance? (Zevlor x Tiefling Tav)

You sneaked into the prison area of Moonlight Towers, looking for the tiefling refugees here.

When you heard what happened it was out of question for you to get them out of here, they were your kind after all and you grew fond of them, sharing the same burden of judgement the people held against tieflings.

You still didn't believe that Zevlor just betrayed them. There had to be more to it than just that and you had to talk to him about it.

When you found the prison cells you were happy to finally have found them. Lia stood at the front of the cell, telling you to talk to the gnomes in the other cell as they seemed to plan something.

And so you did. It wasn't easy to find a way to talk to them without the prison guards starting to be suspicious of you but you managed. Wulbren had asked for something to break through the walls of the cell and you threw an heavy weapon you had with you inside the cell, careful not to be caught in the act.

You were sure you had to fight the guards around anyway so you thought it would be a good option to use as a distraction of what the gnomes and tieflings did in the cells.

The gnomes had quickly destroyed the wall in their cell, revealing a tunnel to the tiefling's cell and to a small boat.

They waited before they left, obviously unsure where to go.

Scanning the group of them you didn't notice Zevlor being with them. Was he not here?

"Is Zevlor not with you?", you asked them.

"They brought him somewhere else, no idea what kind of plan they had for him.", Cal responded.

You were stunned and shocked. It couldn't be. Did they torture him? Or kill him right away? Your mind was wandering on all the worst scenarios and you couldn't stop feeling helpless.

He couldn't be dead. It just couldn't be.

It would mean you missed your chance to tell him how you felt for him.

You didn't know him for a long time, yet you couldn't help feeling warm whenever you talked to him, feeling comfortable yet nervous, feeling your heart beat faster when he just looked at you. There was no way you could deny your feelings for him and right in that moment you felt lost.

Zevlor wasn't here and knowing how cruel the Absolute was it wouldn't be a surprise to you if they had killed him. And realizing that was like a hit in the stomach.

You missed your chance.

Or that's what you believed when you were fighting Ketheric. Your anger and frustration obviously showing and it made the fight on the roof of Moonrise towers a short one, when Ketheric disappeared into the Mindflayer colony.

Following him you noticed the amount of tunnels formed inside of the colony and finding the way towards Ketheric would probably take a while.

Stumbling through the many tunnels and finding one dead end after the other you walked into a room with some of the pods you had been in as well a while ago. The first one of them showed a Mindflayer while the next one was empty.

When your eyes saw the third one you couldn't believe your eyes for a second. Zevlor was stuck in there.

He was alive.

Your hands found the mechanism opening the pods in no time and you didn't care about the Mindflayers you had to fight. You would fight hundreds of them if you had to.

The fight was a short one, Zevlor fighting with you and his blade easily cutting through the enemies.

Still in disbelieve you watched as his blade cut through the last enemy. He turned around to you, blood covering his face aside his tired expression and yet you couldn't find him any less attractive than the last time you had seen him.

"Thank you. I really thought it was over for me.", he said, his face showing relief.

You tried holding back any emotions trying to run through your body, after all you still had to fight and defeat Ketheric.

"I'm glad we have found you. I was worried when I didn't see you with the others.", you said.

"The others.. what happened to them?"

His voice was heavy with guilt and you were curious to hear his part of the story once you got out of here.

"I saved all I could. Some where in prison here but they are safe."

"I have no right worrying about them but I can't thank you enough for saving them once again."

"Would you join me in the next fight? I could use your help.", you asked him and hoped he won't refuse. You couldn't stand the thought of him being out of your sight again.

"I don't think this is a good idea, the Absolute made me turn against my people once already and I don't want to find my blade in your back.", he said, his face showing worry and defeat.

"I trust you. Please join us.", you said. Your eyes were locked with his as he tried to find a way to say no to you. He looked at you for a few seconds before a sigh left his lips.

"I will do my best to assist you.", he finally replied and you were happy to have him with you in the upcoming fight.

Knowing him by your side made you feel at ease and even more so when you defeated Ketheric.

It was a lot to take in, yet you pushed most of the information to the back of your mind, your priority was to have a chance to talk to Zevlor outside of the Mindflayer colony you were still in.

Your camp was set up inside of Moonrise towers today as you successfully defeated all the enemies inside of here.

Aylin and Isobel were the first to approach you, Jaheira tried a moment later, yet you turned them down and told them you would talk later.

You just wanted to find Zevlor right now.

He was standing outside of the door to Moonrise towers, looking into the distance while he was obviously deep in thought with his back facing you.

"Zevlor.", you called out his name and he turned around. Thats when you collided with his chest, the impact made him take a step back or he would have fallen, your arms around his waist and your face burried in his chest.

You stood there for a moment when you felt his arms slowly close around you, pressing you closer to his body and his head resting against yours.

Your tail searched for his, wrapping around it slowly and you felt him do the same. Tails wrapped around each other many times, twisted together like you never wanted to let go of him.

Thats when you couldn't hold your emotions back anymore. You quietly sobbed into his chest and he held you even closer.

"I thought I had lost you.", you sobbed, having a hard time forming words with the sobs shaking through your body.

His hands caressed your back, trying to calm your shaking form and offer some comfort.

"I am here. You saved me again and I can't thank you enough for it.", he whispered into your ear.

He held you like that for a while, chest moving with his steady breathing that camled you down while your sobs became less frequent.

You loosened the embrace, wiping your face and hiding your face from him.

"Sorry, I shouldn't be such a mess right now."

His hands found your cheeks and lifted your face to look at him.

"No need to apologize. You can cry on my shoulder anytime you need.", he said quietly.

Your eyes wandered over his face, blood still clinging to his skin and his eyes full of worry. His thumbs wiped over your cheeks to remove the tears, who were still wet on your skin and you relaxed into the simple caress of his fingers.

"I really thought I had lost my chance to tell you..", you whispered and he looked at you like he was waiting for you to continue talking. "I love you, Zevlor. I know we didn't have much time together and we don't know each other well but I can't help feeling-"

He cut you off with his lips on yours. Your eyes were wide for a moment, trying to realize what is happening before you closed them and relaxed into the kiss. Lips softly moving against each other, his hands still cupping your face, holding you gently while your tails were still wrapped around each other.

"I feel the same.", he whispered when you had parted for a moment, only to find you press your lips onto his again.

#bg3 #bg3 zevlor #zevlor #zevlor x reader #zevlor x tav #tiefling tav #zevlor x tiefling tav

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cebwrites · 1 year

Note

Hi Cev!!!!! Kinda going off of the group chat last night, I would like to humbly request some wedding headcanons for Ace and any other characters you’re brain rotting for 🥰💖✨ It can be sfw or nsfw, go nuts 😘

a/n: you know i got you bestieeee <33

wedding headcannons (Ace, Law)

gn reader, masc reader (law) he/they law word count: 0.9k

Ace

He's having a big blow-out wedding for his beloved (either on ol' Pop's dime or paid with treasure he's pirated on his own adventures) and planning NONE of it, not if his love or Deuce can help it, anyway

Ace's instructions are firmly to show up on time, look hot, and get married - frankly he's more than fine with that so long as he gets to have his tits out at the ceremony

It's not like Ace doesn't want to help out with the organizing, the décor, the thises and thats; but you're also well aware that kind of minutia drives him up the wall, and Ace is grateful that he doesn't have to agonize over what the hell French Pink is and why is that comparable to salmon the fish (oh, Ace...)

It's the happiest day of his life, he's getting married to the person of his dreams!! You could tar and feather him - though a little uncomfortable and itchy and worried about the mess it'd leave on your outfit - and Ace would still be grinning ear to ear, sopping wet with muck at the altar

So really Ace is content with just sitting pretty, getting his face beat on the day of, and promptly ruining all that makeup by absolutely destroying the buffet table with his brothers

He also can and will fully bawl once the minister (Pops) announces that y'all are officially married, Ace held back and stiffed his lip through the vows but now that the knot is tied and you're all his (as if you weren't before), he's hugging you like his life depends on it and thanking you over and over for loving someone like him

Please dip this man low and kiss him sweet and carry him bridal style past the threshold he deserves it

In the modern universe, I think Ace would be the kind of person to get hammered right after high school and have a Vegas Elvis wedding with one of his friends before he's yelled at to get it annulled by the only responsible person in his friend group after a week of finding this the most hilarious thing on planet earth

He'd also maybe elope to get away from it all and then come back with your arm proudly around his waist and a big fat wedding band like "hi we got married it was great soz you couldn't come tho 💔"

Law

Trafalgar D. Water Law, as he is in the present, has no interest in marriage - between escaping Sabaody with their tails between their legs from admirals, to once again staring death down in the face of Big Mom and Kaido, they don't have the time to breathe let alone THINK about marriage

Being with their lover in the little moments of respite that he gets with him, holding him close and knowing that everyone on their ship is safe and alive, is already more than Law fearfully asks the malevolent fates for every single night

They have, however, officiated at least a handful of them

Law vividly remembers the morning that Penguin and Shachi came into their room nervous but obviously trying to hide their elation, they remember you playfully telling his childhood friends that this'd better be important if they were bold enough to disturb what little rest Law managed to get, sleep made your voice deeper than usual but the threat was betrayed by your bemusement - and then the warmth that quickly spread throughout the moderate little room you and Law cohabitated in the Tang when Shachi shakily announced that him and Penguin intended to get married, and how they both wanted their captain to officiate it

Law was happy for the boys but still grumbled underneath their breath about this being something that could wait until he'd gotten out of bed, a comment you pinched their cheek for in return; the ceremony was filled with raucous laughter, celebration, and joy between the newlyweds and their Heart-bound family

They gladly officiate a few more within the crew; some older members renewing their vows, the sheer force of Ikkaku's grin when she picked up her wife and spun her on the dancefloor - how Law's eyes were trained on you when you basked in the lovers' unbidden mirth

Law was up front about their intentions from the start with you, mentioning that a cushy picket fence life with 2.5 kids and a family pet just wasn't in the cards for them and these were the conditions for spending his life with yours; when you answer with relief and understanding, they're convinced you're The One just that much more

Maybe not now, maybe not any time soon and definitely still a hard no to parenting, but perhaps some time far in the future the cards would foresee a husband for them - and by god Law's hoping it's you because darling, you're perfect

In the modern universe they'd enter a civil union with their partner after close to a decade of living comfortably together - Law may or may not cry into his shoulder after it fully settles in on the car ride home staring at this little certificate that shows that their little partnership actually, you know, has to be recognized by the law

Pun intended, and he's thwacking you with the binder of documents later when you point that out

Bonus: Sabo is absolutely a bridezilla, no I will not be elaborating <3

#cebwrites #one piece #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece ace #fire fist ace #ace x reader #ace headcanons #law x male reader #op law #trafalgar law headcanons #trafalgar law #law x y/n #trafalgar law x reader #he/they trafalgar law #male reader #op sabo

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alexxncl · 1 month

Text

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 37 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons | lesson 36 | lesson 38

the fact that they're instantly seen in their demon forms as soon as the lesson starts when they've been so comfortable outside of them, which to me is indicative of their acceptance of their new lives, is a punch to the gut

they're all willing to throw away everything they've worked for socially, risking their lives and their status to save the person they look up to the most, the one who brought them all together in the first place, their big brother. the man who blames himself for his brothers' willingness to follow him despite it being of their own volition, for his sister's death, and who'll probably blame himself for their inclination to save him; he doesn't understand their actions and insistence because he doesn't feel like he's done enough to deserve their devotion and their love after destroying and reshaping the only life they'd known

what if barbatos (nightbringer) intervened and had the brothers fall to the devildom instead of cocytus because he knew how important they were to this timeline? more on this here

me and mephisto be on the same wavelength fr

the brothers followed lucifer because they wanted to, not because he forced or deliberately convinced them to, but because he changed all of their lives for the better and continues to do so just by being the person he is. they love him as much as he loves them

lucifer's love for his brothers manifests in overprotectiveness and being secretive about his struggles, his insecurities, his imperfections, but also his pride in everything they have done and will continue to do as they grow and learn more about themselves

his brothers' love for him manifests in the way they constantly pester and annoy him, the way they stick up for him both when he's around and when he's out of earshot, the way they take after his best and worst traits, the way that they'd do anything for him, the way that they'd follow him to the ends of the earth even if it meant their own deaths and banishment

my frail weak heart 💔 big brother levi in action

levi and asmo, and i'm assuming the rest of the brothers, completely ignored what the unknown voice said about hating his brothers. they know it's not true from firsthand experience in his mindscape, and even if it were true, they still love him enough to try saving his life

i don't think satan ever hated his brothers, he hated that he didn't understand them, himself, and the world around him that he was unwillingly thrust into. if anything, either the unknown voice is blatantly lying, or the unknown voice is detecting self hatred and branding it as hatred towards lucifer since satan was born of lucifer's wrath and (maybe) the two wings he ripped off.

eye personally think the feathers on his boa are the feathers from lucifer's wings but maybe i'm reaching

maybe the unknown voice isn't just "detecting" anything or lingering on the past, but is a personification of what each brother believes the others think of them

satan thinks, or at least used to think, that his brothers thought he hated them, and he played into it in order to not get too attached, to not split up the family more, but he was proven wrong after they entered his mindscape

beel, on the other hand, not only did he literally betray the celeatial realm and forfeit his position by falling from grace, he thinks that his brothers, especially belphie, blame him for lilith's death. he was one of the strongest, if not the strongest soldier of the celestial realm, but was unable to save the very person the celestial war was started over, even after belphie indirectly told him to save lilith instead of him

realizing how rare big brother asmo moments are makes me vv sad. we get a glimpse of them every so often, like the tidbit about him painting everyone's nails and being the most welcoming and accommodating to satan, but since he's one of the youngest, it's rare to see him look out for the few that are younger than him since he's almost always being looked out for

i don't have to go into detail about how much i adore mammon and how much i love when the devs ACTUALLY let him act like a big brother for once bc i've done it a million times. however

do i wish it were more prominent in less dire situations? yes. but the rarity of the overt protectiveness also makes it that much more endearing when it does happen. as much as i love it when he's being a shithead to lucifer, he's also a really good big brother in his own right. as an older sibling myself, there's so many small things he says and does to and for his brothers that i can relate to, and there's a lot of things he does that remind me that he's still a younger sibling that relies on his big brother. i love him and his character sm you don't understand

this hurts so much. so much

theres no way that lucifer, with his status, didn't what would happen if they fell from grace, and that's part of the reason why he felt, and still feels, so guilty for the events and aftermath of the war. it's why he was crying in the nightbringer teaser photo on the website as he fell. he could handle falling from grace and suffering for eternity, at least as long as his brothers didn't suffer the same fate. now his greatest fears are being realized, and he can't do anything to stop them now that they've already followed in his footsteps and met the same fate as him

back to the nightbringer teasers, when we got character descriptions, we learned that lucifer asked raphael to fight on his side of the war. but he declined, which probably was both shocking ro but also expected by lucifer. he knew that what lucifer and his brothers wanted to fight for was just, but he couldnt push past what had been instilled in him for so long and fight against what he'd been taught was "right," or "just." and now, seeing lucifer in chains like this, he wonders if he really did pick the right side

simeon probably wishes he'd fallen, too. we know he was demoted to archangel after the war, probably because he helped lucifer and his brothers in secret while primarily fighting for his father's side

luke was too young to understand why anyone would go against their father, and he hated the very idea of evil. now he's realizing, in the worst way possible, that what he believed to be good wasn't truly as pure as he once thought

this lesson was so good but it's almost 3 am and i have class tomorrow 🫠 lesson 38 can wait

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inthemiddle0feverywhere · 3 months

Text

Bad Batch Season 3 Episode 5 (scattered) thoughts and first impressions (ramblings)

Major spoilers under the cut

This one is also very long because mannnnnnn did I love this episode and omg do I have big feelings about it

Also yes I do love each member of tbb but in case it’s not obvious I’m a crosshair girlie. Have been since I first heard his voice in season 7 of tcw so this is gonna be very crosshair centric (because he finally has screen time and more than like 2 speaking lines this season!!)

Lula! 🥰🥰

Is Omega in a supply closet? Whatever better than her barren room at the lab

Ah nope her old “room” the gun turret 🥰🥰

A glimpse of mornings on board the marauder: peaceful boys and caf 🥹 probably only peaceful again now that omega is home

This is Omega’s best look omg the the crocheted vest??? I wanna cosplay her now or actually just wear this outfit fr

At first I was so annoyed they kept crosshair in this ugly ass outfit but I honestly think it’s because even though it’s warm on Pabu he’s always cold because he’s so skinny now (well he always was lean but this is a testament to how much weight he lost as a prisoner) They keep trying to feed him fruit and my man keeps using it as target practice 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

I honestly love when they show scenes through like either a scope or helmet visor. Like I really love seeing what they’re seeing. In this case AZI (so happy they took him from Cids bar- sorry “parlor”….it was a dive bar)

He’s so mad at his hand 😭 my poor baby he really should let AZI look at it. What do we think it is? Nerve damage? I imagine it feels tingly like when your foot falls asleep.

I love that Batcher loves him!! Animals know good people. He’s a good man Savannah! 😭😭😭 and he likes Batcher too and anyone that’s kind to animals is ok by me.

Ugh Crosshair teaching Omega about being a sniper 🥰🥰😭🥰😭🥰 one day she’s just gonna pop out with a sick trick shot lmao

Shouldn’t have given him his rifle??? Sir it’s an extension of him, it’s like you gave him back one of his body parts

“Omega trusts him and that’s good enough for me” Wrecker!!! My sweet boy!! Big man and even bigger heart. He’s now kinda caught in the middle he wants to be cool with Crosshair again but doesn’t want to betray Hunter they’ve been through a lot just the 2 of them these past several months. Crosshair and Hunter are like parents in the middle of a divorce 😭

53%???? Fuckkkkkkk way worse than we thought

Echo!!!!! Yay mom came home!

“No hug for me” screaming crying throwing up! 😭😭😭😭😭😭 💔💔💔💔he’s disguising it as sarcasm but he wants it, he wants a hug! SOMEBODY HUG HIM DAMMIT! I volunteer!!! Please

Omega between her 2 dads 🥰 (Though is Crosshair more wine aunt vibes sometimes?) And batcher by Crosshair’s feet of course

Yummmmm I bet Pabu has banging sushi 🍣 Love Wrecker being an unbothered king enjoying his sush🥰

😭😭😭😭😭 Crosshair’s face when Echo mentioned Tech. He knows. He knows he fell or perished (shh no 🤡) trying to save him. They’re twins and he lost his other half and I’m devastated!! 😭

Haaaaa welcome to parenting a teenager Hunter!!!

Are Hunter’s eyes green all of a sudden?

Crosshair being the voice of reason?? I love seeing this side of him. I HC that since he is silent and highly observant he was a voice reason often for the batch. (Can we please get a series of TBB during the clone wars?? Or like when they were cadets or something. We only see them in 4 episodes in tcw and they were just an insane suicide squad who hated regs and didn’t follow orders or have anyone in charge of them like I wanna see their adventures and their dynamic and how they are when they have downtime! Please lucasfilmmmmmm 🙇‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️)

“I’m older than you are, little brother” 😂😂😂 and she got crosshair to chuckle lol ugh I love their dynamic so much. They are really feeding us rn (please don’t take it away)

Omg he’s so brave bringing them back there! To that freaking ice planet where nothing but trauma happened for Crosshair. I know he probably wished he would never have to go back there again but he knows this will help so he goes anyway

The old armor!!!! Helllllll frickinnnn yeaaaaaa (he’s so hot in armor omg I have a headache)

“Take a guesssssss” 🥵

“He started it” 😂😂 major youngest sibling energy

Mayday’s helmet! 💔💔💔💔 somebody sedate me!! 😭

Why can’t Hunter sense the Wyrm?

TOOTHPICK!!! Wrecker defo kept his toothpicks in the armor case 🥰

Frickin ice vulture always an omen. (Animals seem to really like Crosshair though even the scary ones)

“I know you” 😭 I know Hunter meant it in a “I know you’re sneaky and closed off and I’m expecting the worst from you right now ” but it just hit me harder than that. “I know you”- you’re my brother, the youngest I’ve known you since the day you were born. “I know you- I know there’s more to your silence I know your still waters run way deeper than you let on.” “I’m your brother- I know you talk to me I know you”❤️‍🩹

Oh shitttttt thems are fightin words yes let it out everyone

“I’ll do it! 😁” Wreckerrrr I love you

Hunter’s fast af boi!

Batcher is actually ripped af 💪

Ok petition that Cross doesn’t yell anymore it doesn’t suit him at all lmaoooo

Poor Wrecker yes it’s always ALWAYS a huge monster 😭

“Fantastic” 😂😂😂

Omg this is a roller coaster of emotions! Crosshair being soft with Batcher, the nodding! Ugh nothing like fending off a giant ice wyrm to bring bros back together

He’s so pretty shut up I know his head is shaped like a lightbulb

AAHH THERES THE HUG 🥰

progress 😌

“I thought I was being a good soldier 😔” * *pterodactyl screeching *

Welp Im deceased, fed and nurtured but dead at the same time.

Thank you thank you thank you for these past few episodes. Us Crosshair girlies were really in pain seasons 1 and 2

33 notes · View notes

dazyskiie-luv · 8 months

Text

★ Incorrect quotes (but by me and my friends)

— mentions of death, overbloting, therapy ((since some people like to avoid it as if it'd kill you)), sebek hate 😵‍💫, and male reader

[Name]: if you got killed by a flying banana how would you feel

Idia: A WHAT

[Name]: a flying banana

Idia: well do i know its going to kill me

[Name]: so true

Idia: YES OR N

[Name]: i read thay wro.

[Name]: umm

[Name]: ur choice

Idia: well

Idia: if i know its goung to kill me id cry

Idia: however if i was caught by surprise id peobably question everyrhing in that moment

Idia: why did i get killed by a flying banana? how did i get killed by a flying banana? why was the banana flying? how did it have enough strength to kill me? was it destined for me to be killed by a flying banana??? who threw the banana????

Jade: Azul said he'd feel betrayed

Azul: Well.. I mean I got killed by a banana

Azul: Was it because I ate your family

Azul: My fault.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[Name]: LILLA HOW TF U SURVVING ALL THESE HURRICANES AND RAINPOURS

[Name]: LAWD

lilla: lol

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sliver: im sos eleph

[Name]: sleep

Sliver 5 hours later: are u a wizard.

Sliver: i fell asleep :(

[Name], not looking up from his paper: idk probably

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[Name]: im doing therapeutic exercises 😠

Riddle: thera what

[Name]: therapeutic

[Name]: therapy exercises

[Name] who's slowly being covered in blot: (i dont have a therapist)

Overblot [Name]: ((i just remember this))

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Azul: sounds like me tbh

[Name] grabbing a gun: we are too alike, one of us gotta die.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[Name]: wishing i was drowninf in a lake rn.

Ruggie: emo ahh

[Name]: YOU.

[Name]: this is my 19th reason

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Cater to [Name]: My favorite pookie wookie pie with whipped cream and sprinkles and those wafer things i forgot what they were called but they're like sticks filled with chocolate idk <3

Yuu looking horrified: Are you tired

Yuu: Is this why you're saying this stuff

Cater: no

Cater: I am tired but this is just me being me!

Yuu: I should've known....

[Name]: My eyes are teary up.

[Name] with tears running down his face: I feel like I've been violated in the worst way possible.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Floyd: Bro said "its fine i can do it" and his jose grew

[Name]: I was about to say "bro lied too much"...

[Name]: bird beak.

Floyd: BHWJAHAH

Floyd: bro got that crane beak 💔

[Name]: traffic cone!

Floyd: ong!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Idia: fi udbprays tofay 🗣🔥⁉️

[Name]: did u pray today?!

Lilla: fi i ibuprofen fowhsay

Idia: IBUPROFEN????

[Name]: so true honestly

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[Name] reading a sign saying "marry me": .

Austin: If you say yes I'll feel happy

Belphie: I can't say die to a child....

Neige: You say die to me

Belphie: Die.

Neige: See what I mean.

Neige: This is why I put a bomb in one of your drawers and hadn't set it off yet.

Belphie: U PUT A BOMB IN ONE OF MY DR.

* Belphie and Austin are my rsa ocs ! Beauty and the beast & Sleeping Beauty :3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Ortho holding a sign to [Name]: I think your pretty

Ace: u used the wrong your

Ortho: YOU KNOW WHAT YOUR DAD SHOULD'VE USED? A CONDOM.

Ace: WHAT.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Idia: is this justin bebiber???

Idia: beiber

Idia: be]

Idia: yeah

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[Name] talking about Sebek: Hope he trips and cracks open like an egg.

Ace: HELP ME.

Yuu: same ong

[Name]: sunnyside up for breakfast guys!

Deuce trying not to laugh: SUNNYSIDE UP US CRAZY.

[Name]: I'M RE-PURPOSING HIM.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

some screenshots for context 😵‍💫.... n word slur usage btw

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #twst incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #cw death mention #twst x male reader #twisted wonderland x male reader #x male reader #x reader #🪐:MaxWrites.exe #🪐: MaxTalks.exe

75 notes · View notes

vladdyissues · 5 months

Note

Danny Phantom AU, where Vlad knew about Danny Phantom being Half-Ghost, before ‘Bitter Reunions’... What if Vlad hides his plans to take over both worlds from Danny?... What if Sam/Tucker (around Season 1) learn about Vlad's true evilness, and show proof to Danny?... What if Danny feels betrayed and believes that Vlad only liked Danny for being half-ghost? (Which isn't true) ... What if Vlad is heartbroken that Danny rejects him, and Vlad angrily blames Sam/Tucker for 'ruining everything'? 💔

I love this idea but see it diverging at the halfway point because Vlad is 1) an accomplished liar, 2) sly as a (silver) fox, and 3) experienced enough in manipulation tactics to know how to invalidate Sam and Tucker's claims while making himself out to be the victim. In other words, I don't think Vlad would even get a chance to be heartbroken because he's just that fucking good. Observe:

"How?" Danny stood before Vlad, quivering with rage. Tears threatened to spill from his flooded eyes. "How could you do this? How could you be so"—he struggled before finally spitting the word—"evil?"

"Oh, Daniel." Vlad sighed and sank onto the couch. "You don't actually believe these outlandish claims, do you?"

"They have photos of you in your lab! You in a ghost form! With a cape and fangs and weird hair and everything."

"Photos." Vlad nodded. "And which one of your friends is the computer whiz? Tucker… Fowler, is it?"

"Foley. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Does Mr. Foley have access to Photoshop?"

It took a moment for the implication to absorb through the blinding veil of Danny's anger. A seed of something cold and painful burrowed into the soil of his broken heart. It felt like betrayal.

"What are you saying? Tucker photoshopped those pictures of you?"

With a meek look of apology, Vlad spread his hands and shrugged.

Danny's head spun. "But that—no. No, he wouldn't. Why would—he… What about the documents?" He jabbed his finger victoriously. "Your journal! All those evil plans you—"

"I understand your friend Samantha is an aspiring author. Fiction, I believe. I've read her work in the local student magazine. Very talented."

Another blow. Danny felt the seed sprout into a choking vine, wrapping its tendrils around his heart and squeezing it until it felt like the muscle would burst.

And Vlad. So calm and patient. Sitting there with his hands clasped over his knees, giving Danny the most sympathetic expression. Danny wanted to simultaneously burst into tears and fly into a destructive passion.

"They wouldn't. They couldn't. Why would they…"

"Oh, Daniel." Vlad reached out to him, his face bent with worry. "Come, sit down, dear boy. You look exhausted."

Danny stumbled to the couch and dropped onto the cushions as if the weight of the world were perched on his shoulders. Vlad slid close and put a soothing arm around him.

"Don't you see, Daniel?" He tamed a wild strand of Danny's hair, and the fingers continued their stroking. "This is a simple matter of jealousy. Your friends are jealous of the time we spend together—time that takes you away from them—and they're trying to get you back. It's a tale as old as humanity itself."

Tears skidded down Danny's cheeks. "But it's—these are serious accusations."

"I know."

"Why would they make up something like this, just because we don't hang out as often? I mean, why go through all that trouble? Why… I can't believe they'd actually lie about this."

"Everyone lies, Daniel."

"Not to me. They've never—well. I mean, nothing serious."

Vlad sighed. "It may surprise you to know that I was in a similar situation myself once. When your mother first took a shine to your father when we were in college and began spending more time with him, I became jealous. I missed the hours Jack and I used to spend together in the science lab, just the two of us. I acted out and fabricated lies, made a perfect fool of myself." He shook his head. "It was so silly, now that I think about it. The college reunion last year was my way of trying to make it up to them, apologizing for my past behavior. And look where it's led."

He smiled, gently tugging a lock of Danny's hair.

"I got to meet you, the most wonderful and unique young man in the entire world. I can hardly blame your friends for wanting you all to themselves again. It's really the sincerest compliment, when you think about it. You mean so much to them that they would invent the most outrageous fabrication, slander me and tarnish my reputation, just to have you back. You're that special to them."

He finished with a paternal smile, and Danny turned to him, blinking more tears down his face. Vlad pulled his red handkerchief from his suit pocket and wiped Danny's dripping cheeks. The cloth was smooth and fragrant, and Danny leaned into its warmth.

"I'm sorry," he croaked. "I shouldn't have believed them—"

"Shh, shh, my dear boy." Vlad pulled him into a sideways hug and planted a kiss on top of his head. "You couldn't help it. To their credit, they did excellent work. I'd be inclined to believe it myself if I didn't know better!"

When his chuckle failed to lift the misery from Danny's face, he sighed and rubbed the boy's arm.

"I suppose it's my fault, really. I'm a lonely man, and I've been too greedy with you. I must remember that you have friends who need you, too." He pulled back. "Perhaps I should return to Wisconsin for a few months, let you and your friends enjoy the rest of the school year and—"

Danny grabbed hold of his arm. "No, please, don't go away. I—" He dipped his blushing face. "You're special to me, too."

Vlad stared. Then affection tugged at the corners of his downturned mouth. "You don't know how happy that makes me, Daniel."

This time it was Danny who initiated the embrace. Vlad wrapped his arms around the boy and smiled over his shoulder. It wasn't a nice smile. It was leering, cunning, too sharp.

"Perhaps I can arrange for your friends to come over more often," he said. "We can work together instead of separately. I'll even throw in some ghost-free recreation time. How would you three like to spend a few days up at my lodge in Aspen? Skiing all day, hot chocolate and movies at night, not to mention the enormous hot tub I have."

"Sounds great, except they hate your guts."

"Maybe once they get to know me, they'll change their minds."

Danny glumly pulled away. "How am I gonna face them? I mean, they're so convinced you're evil. What can I say? How do I tell them you're not what they think?"

"You don't have to say anything, Daniel. Not right now. Just let them speak. Look for the truth behind their lies. Once you see that they really just miss you and care about you, everything will become clear. And for the record, I have no hard feelings toward them. Be sure to let them know that when the time comes."

Danny sniffed wetly. "You really are a good guy, Vlad."

"Except for when I cavort around my lab, wearing a cloak and fangs, of course."

Danny laughed, and the spell was broken.

Everything was going to be okay. He would talk to Sam and Tucker, get this whole thing straightened out. And if he couldn't, well… maybe they needed a break from one other. Just until the lying and photoshopping and libelous works of fiction stopped. Everything was going to be okay.

As if sharing the same thought, Vlad reached over and grasped Danny's hand, lifting it to press a chaste kiss above the knuckles. He met Danny's eyes. Heat bled up Danny's neck to stain his cheeks pink. He bit his lip.

Sam and Tucker would never understand this, either. But that was okay. He wasn't going to let their lies come between him and the man he loved.

#oops a ficlet happened #asks #hjbwrites #pompous pep #bitter reunions au #manipulation #ficlet #long post

35 notes · View notes

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