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rene-spade · 2 months

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my man isn’t creepy! i | f1 grid

growing up leclerc au !

fem! leclerc! reader x f1 grid, leclerc family

part i: carlos sainz, daniel ricciardo, oscar piastri, pierre gasly & kika gomes

synopsis. when the youngest leclerc finds her partners’ ‘shrine’ of her, but she’s a leclerc so the red flags aren’t all that red

WARNING(s); i like em crazy y’all, obsessive/possessive behavior, implied stalking/shrines, unhealthy relationship dynamics, sexual implications but no smut

carlos sainz.

“What is it?” You asked, head tilted to the side as you look up at your boyfriend. The Spaniard melted, muttering a curse to himself and running his hands through his thick hair. He felt hot, nervous for what the outcome of this discussion could be.

“Dios mío, ángel, it’s— it is not what you think— nothing bad. I am just embarrassed is all.” He reassured, big hands gripping at your shoulders. But he knew it was a bit bad, even his enabling family members were worried he’d freak you out if you saw. His movements were made to comfort you, but you could tell they were more self-soothing. Arthur had a similar habit whenever you got upset with him, too.

You only frowned, but it fueled Carlos’ panic.

“Mi amor, I will do whatever you ask-! You know this. I will let you in when it’s cleaned, I swear it.” He pulled you into his chest, arms fully embracing you. But you squirmed out of his hold, making him respond with an unhappy attempt to coo you back into comfort.

“You’re hiding something in there, Carlos. This is the first time I’m staying with you in your home since we started dating, let me see.” And at the sight of your big, beautiful, angry eyes, how could he refuse an Angel? With a twitch of his fingers, Carlos unlocked the door without any movement to push it open.

With a short huff, you pushed yourself through the door, only pausing at seeing at the sheer amount of merchandise that covered every surface. It was all you-themed, from posters and cut-outs, down to a body-pillow and even an outfit you’d only worn once for a runway show. There was a glass shelf with your old perfumes, newer ones too, and photos everywhere.

“Carlos….” You began, covering your mouth with your fingers and stepping further in.

“I know—! But I liked you so much before we started seeing each other and I- I am just a passionate man is all, my whole family says so—!” You cut off his red-faced rambling with a beaming grin.

“Ouah! I didn’t know you were a super fan before we met!” You giggled, mumbling to yourself in French about the various things he’d collected. “maybe you are a bit extreme, but it’s kind of cute, no?”

“¿En serio? Sí, mi perla!” He breathed shakily before grinning, “I should have known you’d understand! Mis hermanas se burlaron de mí, ¿sabes? But it was all silly…” (You’re serious? Yes, my pearl! My sisters teased me, you know?)

“What are you saying? Your sisters… something? I’m still learning, mon chéri.” You pout at him, in a much better mood now that you knew what your boyfriend was hiding behind the door he seemed so desperate to keep you away from.

He shook his head, hair messy after having run his fingers through it many times due to stress, “We should have dinner with them tonight while we’re still in Spain, I said. Let’s go back downstairs?”

“Why? Got anything weird?”

“Don’t say things like that, amor!”

♤ ♤ ♤

daniel ricciardo.

“Danny…?”

“Shit-!” He jumped out of surprise, dropping the box he was reaching from the top shelf of the closet.

“Oh, I’m sorry, mon soleil!” You squeaked, jumping back as well. You hadn’t meant to scare him, but it wasn’t your fault he was so focused in the dead of night. You were just curious is all. The box he dropped was was rectangular in shape, but easily bigger than a shoebox. You shot him a sleepy grin, “What do you have there?”

He sighed, shaking his head, “Why are you up, sleepy girl? Get back to bed, I’ll be right there. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I’m up because you’re up.” You wrinkled your nose, inching closer to him with a small blanket in your arms. You tried to get a glimpse of what fell out of the box, but Daniel wrapped himself around you so you couldn’t see. He wrestled the blanket from your fingers, careful not to be rough with long nails, and threw it over your head with smile.

As you wrestled, your boyfriend only laughed and placed kisses on any part of you he could without being hit by your flying limbs, “Pretty things like you should be asleep. Your brothers would kill me if they knew I disturbed your beauty rest.”

“Are you trying to hide something from me?” You pulled the blanket off your head, hair a mess.

Daniel froze, jaw clenching as he tried to hold a toothy smile. But he didn’t have it in him to lie to you. The moment was completely still, before you finally broke eye contact and crept passed him to see the mess on the floor. You could hear Danny gulp as you plucked the first item from the ground; a pretty, navy blue set of lacy underwear. Yours, yes. But from ages ago, you swore you lost them. Then there were a few pieces of jewelry, a lipstick tube, a silk scrunchie, a press-on nail, a red heel, and two pieces of now-hardened chewing gum. All yours from various points of this past year.

“Daniel,” no, not the first name, he begged internally, squeezing his eyes shut, deciding to just wait for the inevitable disgust and rejection. You never called him by his full first name, only sweet ‘danny’s his way, sometimes ‘mon soleil’ or ‘sunshine’.

“You know you can just ask for my things, yes? You don’t have to take.” You were looking right up at him, navy colored panties still in your hand like you didn’t even mind that he took them. His reasoning couldn’t have been pure, you know that.

You hummed, pulling at his fingers so you can shove the underwear into his balled up fist, “lá.”

“Perfect girl.” He muttered, pulling you back into him and dragging you to bed, “give me the pair you have on then, yeah?”

♤ ♤ ♤

max verstappen.

It wasn’t always like this with you— you used to be just Charles “track terror” Leclerc’s pretty little sister, a little girl. But now it was years later and you’ve become something perfect and irresistible— something he can’t live without. He knows he’d resorted to some immoral, if not a little creepy, behaviors, but it’s not like he’s one of those guys that would ever hurt you. No, you’re a deity to him. He told his sister about his feelings at one point (even thought about showing her the shrine), but she told him— “This is all because you watched You!” The Netflix show that follows a stalker.

So he took down the shrine— moving most of it into his bedside drawer and the rest under his bed. But he realized he didn’t think it all the way through when he had you in his room for the first time; all pretty and perfect and curious.

“Good race, Maxie.” You hopped back onto the bed, your hair bouncing as you landed, “You’re so tense and for what, huh?”

Max had just a little bit of shame about the whole thing, but maybe not too much. I mean, his body definitely felt some kind of physical guilt or something if you’re judging him by the shaking and sweating— but his mind was happy. You were here with him in his home. In fact, the physical reaction might just be from seeing you curled up in his bed. But you’re close to finding out how… intense he was. (As his mother would say.)

“Sorry, lief, I’m just tired and you’re distracting me by being cute.” He smiled down at you as he began to change, “you need a shirt to wear?”

“Yes, s'il te plaît. Hey, can I put my bracelets in here—? oh!” He’d barely turned his back for a second, just long enough to remove his shirt, but that’s all it took for you to pull the drawer open and see the copious amount of photos of you (some edited to have him in them) and unsent love letters.

“It’s not a shrine— I’m not a creep! It’s just some things I made back before we got together—! You weren’t supposed to see them!” He was trying to shove some of the papers back in, but you were already skimming one of the letters.

“Mijn hart,” he winced at seeing the one you had— one of the more unhinged ones. The worst of it was in Dutch, so that worked out for him at least.

“Oh c’mon, Maxie! It’s kind of sweet! You had such a big crush on me! It’s a little hot, even.”

He grew even more red and fidgety at that, “Shit.”

You giggled at the words you could understand before he wrestled the page out of your grip. You grabbed him and pressed a kiss to his cheek before he could stray too far.

“From Max Verstappen-Leclerc, hm?”

♤ ♤ ♤

oscar piastri.

“Can’t I just grab a hoodie, Osc?” You questioned as he held you in place on the counter, from his spot between your legs, still in his race suit.

“You don’t need one, Lovey, it’s hot.” He pressed himself into you so he could feel you breathe better. You’d asked for a jacket the moment you’d entered his freezing trailer just after the race. He saw you go for the closet and quickly redirected you onto the counter.

“Non, you’re hot because you just raced in a little car for hours and now you’re all over me. I am normal temperature.”

“Cold?”

“Yes.”

“Then get closer, I’m hot.”

You huff obnoxiously like the pretty spoiled girl you are and Oscar can feel the rush of serotonin he got just from the sound. He knew this is the part where you’d get cute and pretend to pick a fight, his sweet thing. But bad timing— he’s desperate to hide his secret now.

“I can’t get any closer to you if I trieddd. What? You have a girl hiding in that closet? Hm?” He scoffed into your shoulder, but stiffened, knowing just what was behind that door.

You gasped dramatically, likely playing it up to get what you wanted (a tactic you used with your brothers, Oscar noticed), “You do! Irréelle!”

“I don’t!” His face shot up from your shoulder, brows furrowed, but he didn’t let you go, “You know I don’t like any other girls!”

“Then you need to show me so I can be sure! And I’m still cold.” You crossed your arms and pulled your knees together to get him to back up.

“I can’t.” He choked out. “There’s— it’s just— I have this thing—”

You hopped down and booked it across the trailer before he could reach out and stop you, yanking the door open to see what your new boyfriend was hiding.

You breathed out a dramatic sigh of relief at the sight, “Goodness, Osc.” Rather than finding a person, you instead found some sort of… collection? Collage of yourself and your things? Photos mostly, magazines, and lots of hearts drawn on articles about you.

Oscar grabbed you by the shoulders and quickly spun you around into him, slamming the door, “You saw?”

Looking up at him with big eyes, you nodded, “Yeah, why? You really like me that much?”

“What? Yes— yeah I do. You—? Okay.”

♤ ♤ ♤

pierre gasly. | kika gomes.

“I’m prepared to blame you for this if Charles finds it.” Pierre breathed, looking at the start of his girlfriend’s collection of your things. Kika scoffed, a smile playing at her lips as she re-organizes your makeup. Mostly lip balms, you’d let her borrow some of your things, not knowing she wasn’t going to give any of it back. Kika even managed to get a few skirts from you as well. The small framed photo of you sitting in her vanity was just a personal touch.

Pierre would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed, but he could say he wasn’t surprised. He and Kika were a good couple, a good duo in general, but especially when it came to drawing you in. Because Pierre was such a good friend to Charles, it came pretty easy; Charles was easier on him around you. Unfortunately, that grace didn’t extend to Kika just because they were dating. Charles had something of a sixth sense for when pretty girls liked his pretty sister; so he was on to Kika. Where at the beginning it was nothing to get you alone with them, it was now next to impossible.

“Pierre? Kika? Are you home?” Wow it’s like they could hear your pretty voice— oh wait they gave you a key. To their apartment. In Monaco, where you live and you can really just waltz in and see all of the things they took (—yes they, Pierre is a thief too—)

Like two naughty school children, the couple shot up to cover what they’d done before you could reach their bedroom. This was their fault naturally, none of yours at all, they were the ones who encouraged you to come over whenever physically possible.

“Grab everything and I’ll distract her!” Kika whispered, rushing to slip out of the room.

Before the ‘not fair-’ could slip from his lips, his girlfriend was off to catch you, brushing passed him and leaving the door cracked. He could hear your surprised greeting, a cute squeak escaping you, before Kika saying something like ‘Oh, Pierre is busy now’, then silence. Pulling the handle back just an inch, he peaked outside to see Kika’s lips not even a centimeter from your own, her hands gripping your jacket for dear life.

“Oh, pretty girls, ce n'est tout simplement pas juste.” Slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it. Your eyes shot to his, but Kika’s remained trained on your face. After just a second, your gaze drifted to Kika’s vanity behind him.

The couple froze, you saw. Pierre pulled the door shut behind him as Kika’s mouth opened to form words.

“Oi! Get your hands off my little sister, huh? Démon impoli et pratique, seriously.” Charles slipped into the living room from the front hallway, having obviously accompanied his little sister in her visit.

“Non, Charlie, Kika helped me when I almost tripped.” You smiled at your brother, quickly covering for them, “I was just coming to see if I could get my jean skirt back?”

You looked up at her so sweet and she thinks you’re blushing—“Oh.” She squeaked, “yes, no problem. Pierre.”

“I’ll get it for her, mate.”

“surveille ta copine. je ne suis pas aveugle, mate.”

♤ ♤ ♤

Your man (s girlfriend) is definitely creepy, girl.

note; I made kika and pierres a lil longer bc they’re two ppl so yeah ft charles

thinking part ii with lando, mick (ft the schumachers), lewis, lance, alex & lily, george and carmen?

- ren

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star-girl69 · 3 months

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Let The Light In

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: sick clarisse is a heartless monster

this ask

a/n: i do like fluff too! i promise!

Let The Light In - Lana Del Rey

side note: i liked this song before you tik tok bitches liked this song. first day the album came out i said “oh so let the light in is literally my song” y’all can back off mkay…..

warnings: MOTHER Y/N FR!!!!!!!!, ares kids are big babies, don’t tell anyone they’ll kill you, no plot, clarisse is sick and needy and cuddly and basically a baby, bitch gets austin mcbroom post-catherine sick it’s embarrassing, i still love her, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

As soon as you walk into the Ares cabin, you can smell it. It’s not like anyone’s thrown up- you hope, at least- but the entire Ares cabin reeks of snot and wet coughs. You didn’t even know that had a distinct smell. The entire cabin just reeks of a bad, bad, summer cold.

It started off slow. And to their credit, the Ares kids did stay strong for a while. While the rest of the camp was falling into a apocalyptic-esque nightmare, no one in the cabin got sick. Until someone must have.

You remember snorting when Clarisse announced to all of her siblings that whoever got sick would be sleeping outside.

Obviously, that person tried to hide it, and the entire Ares cabin woke up sniffling yesterday. Clarisse vowed to find the rat, but her and the rest of the cabin ended up going to bed early after being asleep on their feet all day.

As the head counselor’s girlfriend, you felt a motherly responsibility to take care of the dying soldiers.

Which is what they were acting like.

“Good morning,” you say softly, quickly shutting the door. The cabin is a mess, even after one night. There’s tissues on the floor, blankets strewn about, everyone’s moaning and groaning. The curtains are all drawn firmly shut, so it’s seems more like 10pm when it’s actually only 10am.

All of the siblings have gathered on the first floor, sometimes two to a bed, couches filled up with sleeping kids.

Everyone mumbles back very pointed “mornings” while you sigh and open up your bag filled with wash cloths.

“Okay,” you say. You already got the sickness a few days ago, and while you’re still sniffling, you’re much better. “I’m here to help!” you announce. Then, you frown. “Where’s Clarisse?”

Matty, on the floor, leaning against the couch, points to a blanketed figure in the corner.

“Asleep,” he yawns. “Which I’m about to be.”

You smile but ultimately walk past her, letting her have a few more moments of what seems to be a fitful sleep- she’s frowning in her sleep, which is absolutely adorable.

You head towards the bathroom, cringing at the overfilling basket of tissues, before you set out your bag on the closed toilet and take out a few wash cloths. You wet them with cold water and hang them over your arms, walking around and putting one on each person’s warm head.

A few actually compare you to a goddess in that moment, and you just hide your giggles and say you’re welcome.

When you finally reach Danny, curled up in a ball on the end of the couch, he looks up at you with big puppy dog eyes.

You’ve quickly realized that all of the Ares kids turn into literal toddlers when they’re sick. But Danny, actually only eleven, seems like a literal baby in this moment. He’s a skinny kid, so when you pick him up he feels like nothing.

“I miss my mom,” he groans into your neck.

“I know,” you say, patting his back.

You complete your rounds of washcloths against hot heads, finally turning around with Danny in your arms. You go back into the bathroom and focus on him for a second, the youngest member of the cabin, touching his forehead.

“You’re not too hot,” you say, encouragingly. You run the tap, wetting the plain white cloth. “But we’ll stick this on anyways.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he says, head back in your neck. “You’re the best,” he yawns.

When you turn around, Clarisse is crossing her arms in the doorway.

She’s trying her best to look angry, but she’s just pouting.

“Hi, baby,” you smile.

She glares at Danny’s back before reaching forward to grab him from your arms.

“She’s my girlfriend, you little snake,” she huffs, clawing at him.

“Hey!” you shout, pulling back as Danny desperately wraps his legs around your waist, gripping onto your neck for dear life. “He’s eleven, Clarisse.”

“And?” she scoffs. “I’m really sick, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes, wetting another washcloth.

“Here you go, you big baby,” you slap it over her forehead and she pouts again, raising her hand to hold it there. “Puppy dog,” you giggle, urging her back to the couch.

“I am not a puppy dog. I’m a pitbull, if anything.”

She sits back in her corner, pushing the blanket aside and opening her arms wide.

“C’mere,” she says, eyes closed, expectant look on her face. “Ditch the snake.”

“Nope,” you smile, flopping down onto the couch, making Danny laugh at the way the two of you bounce.

Danny and Clarisse both settle into your sides, glaring at each other. Danny’s head pressed against your chest, Clarisse’s in her neck. She wraps her arm around your waist and he wraps his around your stomach.

“Gods, Ares kids are so possessive,” you mutter.

“Exactly,” Clarisse replies. She tries to push him away. “Scram,” she says, but it ends in a yawn.

“If Y/N tells me to go then I will,” Danny replies. “I’m only eleven, Clarisse. I need a mom when I’m sick.”

You watch him try to look serious, but he eventually breaks out into a smile.

“Snake,” Clarisse whispers. “Gonna kill you when we’re not sick.”

“No you’re not,” you say, leaning your head against hers. “I’ll walk out right now and take Danny with me.”

She holds you tighter.

“You can’t abandon me in my time of need,” she huffs, and you resist the urge to laugh at the genuine fear in her voice. “I just need you really bad, I was thinking about you all night, angel.”

“Then be on your best behavior,” you smile.

“Yes, ma’am,” she mutters, burrowing her face into your neck. She tugs you closer to her. “You’re so soft. I love you.”

“Okay, Clarisse,” you smile, kissing her head.

She shakes her head and pouts. “No.”

“Puppy dog,” you say again, but she chooses to ignore you, placated by the feeling of your lips quickly pressing against hers.

“Pretty girlfriend,” she mumbles, eyes falling shut. “Pretty, pretty, really soft girlfriend.”

Matty scoots over to put his head in your lap.

Now permanently caged in, you give up any hopes of escaping when they all fell back asleep, resigning yourself to a day of boredom, being used as a literal pillow for the sick “toddlers” of the Ares cabin.

“Thanks for bringing the light in, Y/N,” Matty mumbles against the top of your thigh. “You, I mean. You’re the light. Was that clear?”

“Matty, go to sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbles.

“But thank you,” you smile.

You look around the dark, dreary, dirty room.

“Big babies,” you mumble to yourself.

—-

shoutout to danny from music to watch girls too making a second appearance ily

matty is prob my fav original side character for the ares cabin i love him sm so shoutout to him too!!!

and ofc shoutout to clarisse “she’s my girlfriend” la rue

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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captain-barnes-writes · 9 months

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What is soft launch? (Carlos Sainz)

Part one

Summary: Max Verstappen’s ex girlfriend moves on with none other than Ferrari’s Carlos Sainz and they’ve managed to keep their relationship under wraps until now. | part two |

Type: Insta au

Face Claim: Cindy Kimberly

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x fem!reader x Ex!boyfriend Max Verstappen

Warning: just a little fluff, cute Carlos.

This is in connection to Fallen Petals 😊

Liked by CarlosSainz55, Yourbff, Lewis Hamilton and others

YourUsername Looking at you🌷

Comments

Yourbff my bestie is so pretty

Yourusername like you🙈

Yourbff If you don’t shut up

YourUsername so aggressive!

Yourbff only because I miss you🙄

GigiHadid slaying

YourUsername learned from youuuu

WinnieHarlow 😍😍

Username Carlos been all up in her likes lately👀

Username I noticed that too omg

Username Max really fumbled Y/N fr

——

Liked by YourUsername,LandoNorris,MaxVerstappen1 and others

CarlosSainz55 Viéndote a ti ❤️‍🔥 (looking at you)

Comments

LandoNorris I know who you’re looking at 👀

CarlosSainz55 shhhhh landito

Username who is he looking at Lando??

Username not lando lowkey outing him

DanielRicciardo thanks for the invite mate 😤

CarlosSainz55 Next time!

LandoNorris me three 🫣

Username Are Y/N and Carlos on the same boat😳😳

Username And both in Italy at the same time omg

Username She was my favorite wag

Username Carlos really translated her caption into Spanish lmao

Username Not Max liking this 💀

——

YourUsername posted on her story

Replies

CarlosSainz55 You deserve that and more baby🌹

YourUsername Thank you for the flowers handsome 🥰

Yourbff Godddd he’s so smitten with you I love it!

YourUsername He better be, it’s been almost a year lol

Username About time you move on from Max

Username You deserve them 🥹

——

Liked by CarlosSainz55, CharlesLeclerc, LandoNorris and others

YourUsername Ending summer break in Italy ❤️‍🩹

Comments

Yourbff bring back the cat

YourUsername he ran away after we took the picture😭😭

Charlottesiine love seeing you so happy❤️

YourUsername thank you lovely, see you soon ☺️

Charlottesiine Can’t wait!

CharlesLeclerc you don’t even get this excited about seeing me??

Charlottesiine 🫣😶

CarlosSainz55 🌹

Comment liked by YourUsername

Username things are adding up Carlitos 😳

F1Wags Are we getting our favorite wag back?

Username but this time in red it seems

Username it might not even be him

Username it’s definitely him🤨

Username But can we talk about how Y/N has the whole grid in her likes 🙃

Username how come even the back of his head looks so good???

——

CarlosSainz55 posted on his story

Replies

LandoNorris Is this a soft launch?

CarlosSainz55 what is a soft launch?

LandoNorris 😑😑

YourUsername we’re really soft launching hehehe

CarlosSainz55 Amor what is soft launch?

YourUsername You’re old

CarlosSainz55 I’m still in my 20s 😐

CharlesLeclerc about time😳

CarlosSainz55 Can you tell me what is soft launch?

CharlesLeclerc how should I know? 💀

CarlosSainz55 gee thanks mr.inchident

DanielRicciardo mate is that Y/N?

CarlosSainz55 uh…yes?

DanielRicciardo Max is gonna have a field day lmao but congrats, you’ve got a good one!

CarlosSainz55 His loss🤷‍♂️ And thank you Danny!

TO BE CONTINUED

————————————————

Part two coming soon! I couldn’t fit more pictures, 10 is the limit 😭😭😭 Also this is my first insta au so I know it’s not that great, but I really enjoyed making it.

P.S. this is in connection to Fallen Petals (which I’m almost done writing the second part) because if y’all thought I would just let Y/N suffer while Max was unfaithful girllll no 😤

#Carlos sainz #Carlos sainz Jr #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz jr x you #carlos sainz jr x reader #Carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz instagram edit #Carlos sainz au #Carlos sainz fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #Carlos sainz fic

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leclercvsx · 5 months

Text

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

Second chances {2} | LN⁴

SMAU

landonorris

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 794k others

landonorris: don’t believe everything you see online. Me and Y/n are still happily together, not that it’s anyone’s business🙄

TAGGED: yourusername

yourusername: my lover🫶

↳ landonorris: i love you❤️

user3: if y’all are still together then why hasn’t y/n been at the last 4 grand prixs?👀

↳ landonorris: believe it or not, people do have separate lives outside of racing. As much as i, and she, would like her to come to all my races, she can’t because she also has a job🙏🏼

danielricciardo: honestly who would actually believe it if you guys broke up? like you guys are literal soulmates

↳ yourusername: thank you, danny😛

user1: ignore them, we all know the truth❤️

—

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 452k others

yourusername: be fr, this man cannot live without me💅

TAGGED: landonorris

landonorris: more like you couldn’t live without ME

↳ yourusername: don’t lie now, lando👀

↳ landonorris: i’m not lying, babe

↳ yourusername: 👀👀

danielricciardo: he’s been whining nonstop this weekend because you aren’t here😭

↳ landonorris: why are you exposing me like that

↳ oscarpiastri: it’s very true, he can’t go one minute without mentioning you

↳ yourusername: awe baby, i’m flattered😛

↳ landonorris: wow so you really aren’t gonna tell me how much you miss me too?

↳ yourusername: maybe i do miss you a little bit🫣

user5: why do i feel like her and charles make a better couple than her and lando👀

liked by charles_leclerc

—

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 572k others

yourusername: my personal favourite gp is here🙏🏼

(thank you daniel for the first picture😛)

TAGGED: landonorris , maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc & danielricciardo

landonorris: why would you post that first one😔

↳ yourusername: because you look so cute!!!🥺

↳ landonorris: alright fine, you’re forgiven🫶

user1: what is Charles even doing in the last picture?

↳ yourusername: caught him taking a selfie 😛

maxverstappen1: i didn’t even know you took a picture

↳ yourusername: cos you were on your phone, ignoring me🙄

↳ maxverstappen1: i apologise

charles_leclerc: what’s wrong with taking a selfie🤔

↳ yourusername: nothing, i just thought it was adorable 😛

liked by charles_leclerc

↳ landonorris: hey, you’re my girlfriend. Call me adorable :(

↳ yourusername: i call you adorable all the time✋

↳ landonorris: true

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note: maximised photos again, anyway can y’all see where this is going? 👀

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look-at-the-soul · 10 days

Text

Every little thing you do- Part 5

Tommy Shelby x reader

Series master list

I changed slightly what I already had written after reading someone’s comment on the previous part 🤭 I always love reading what you think, sometimes it even sparks an idea or two… 🥰

Word count: 3,213

Y/N walked excitedly through the Shelby Company headquarters. She was granted with the permission to open the Shelby Institute, it was incredible how much Tommy’s contacts helped her speed up the process. Now she’d need to interview and recruit teachers, cleaning personnel, a couple of secretaries and enroll the children for the upcoming school year.

But as she got closer, Tommy’s shouting became clearer.

“Don’t fucking try to trick me, Lizzie.” He warned.

Then Y/N flinched when Lizzie raised her voice. “What’s your fucking problem then? If I sleep with Angel, his father or his cousin it’s none of your business!”

“Of course it’s my business!” He exploded. Anger raising at the thought the Changrettas getting sensitive information from his secretary, Lizzie had a big mouth when she wanted to. In more ways than one. “How much is Changretta paying you?”

“So you can choose who I sleep with,” Lizzie spat, “but you are covering Y/N’s pregnancy and treating her as if she was a Shelby!”

She was now able to understand all the secrecy around Tommy’s confident, why suddenly everyone wanted to make sure she was alright, why she was around more frequently. The thought of Y/N fulfilling all the dreams that belonged to her, made Lizzie go mad.

What was happening with the Changretta family? Y/N wondered as she overheard the heated exchange coming from Tommy’s office. The last thing she knew about them was when Danny Whizzbang was falsely killed in front of the Italians. But that was a few years back.

“I know her parents kicked her out.” Y/N heard Lizzie again. “What? You thought I wouldn’t find out? So now you’re pretending to be the perfect little family?”

That’s why Scott disappeared overnight. Lizzie wondered for how long they’ve been fooling everyone.

“Since when do I have to give you explanations, ey? You’re not answering me! What have you told Angel about us?” His hands shook her shoulders abruptly.

“Oh please! Don’t give yourself that much importance, the last thing we do is talk about you. And you don’t have the right to question my decisions, when you’re supporting Y/N and her bastard.”

That last statement was enough for Y/N to feel her blood boiling.

“Repeat that in my face. I dare you.” She opened the door with such force that it slammed against the wall behind. Lizzie paled.

Tommy recognized that look, he barely had time to react and intercepted Y/N midway.

“Y/N calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Y/N shouted, if it wasn’t for Tommy she would’ve already slapped Lizzie. “I’m tired of this, everybody thinks they can call my child bastard just because I’m not married.” She had to bite her tongue to stop her from telling a truth or two to Lizzie. She rarely got angry but once she did, there was no going back.

“Lizzie get out, I don’t want to see you.” Tommy barked as he tried to help Y/N to sit down. Then he realized they had an audience outside his office. “What are y’all doing there?! Go back to work!”

Once he had her settled on the couch, he offered Y/N a glass of water.

“Don’t let her words sink in. It’s bullshit.” He tried, but Y/N was still altered.

“She from all of the people, dares to point her finger at me.” Y/N said sarcastically and rolled her eyes. “And just because I thought Scott was-” she trailed off.

“You’re much better without him, you know that right?” Tommy crouched down, to be at her level.

“Will this ever stop?” Y/N’s voice cracked by the end, emotions at its highest.

“I’ll shoot anyone who dares to say anything like that again.”

His hands tried to calm her trembling fingers. His words managed to earn a small smirk from her, Tommy’s words managed to make her feel better momentarily. But she couldn’t help but wonder for how long she’d be able to deal with comments like that. She’s need to create a shell around her, a thick skin as Ada had told her. Give zero fucks about others people’s opinions.

“It’s like I’ll have it tattooed in my forehead for the rest of my life.”

“What the hell happened?” John demanded to know.

“Get some men to follow Lizzie, she’s been seeing Angel Changretta and we don’t know what kind of information she’s been giving them.”

“Ah the brat!” John made an annoyance face and stormed off.

To try to calm the anger raising, Tommy poured himself a glass of whiskey, not wanting to snap at Y/N for the previous altercation with Lizzie.

The Italians had always give him and his people a bad blood, they thought they were better than anyone else. And in the long run, a relationship between his secretary and one of the Changrettas would bring him more problems than good. Lizzie knew way too much about the business, he couldn’t just fire her.

He needed to find a loose end, something to stop them, to show his power over the Italians. He needed a plan…

Love and sex are a dangerous thing, people get blinded by it and he could’ve a snitch under his nose, he needed to be more cautions with the people he hired and make it clear the unwritten rules and conditions to work for him.

“I should’ve told you sooner.” Y/N mumbled, feeling guilty.

“You knew?” The frown on his brow intensified.

“Not exactly, but one day she started making weird comments about a date and her love life and oh this incredible man…” Y/N shook her face. “I thought she was just bluffing.”

“Yeah you should’ve. But it doesn’t matter now…” he trailed off going for a glass of whiskey, it was still early but he felt like a lion in a cage.

Y/N noticed the way his mind was working, already anticipating to endless possible scenarios and outcomes. Then he paused to rest his arms against a chair and let his head hang loose. The straps of the holster tightened around his shoulders and back, his muscles flexed under the shirt.

“Are you jealous?”

Tommy’s head snapped at Y/N’s words. Taking him by surprise.

“As if you didn’t knew me, you from all of them.” Tommy scoffed, but his eyes softened. “Really? You think I’d be jealous for Lizzie?”

Y/N blushed embarrassed for asking something so intimate. It wasn’t her business.

“Forget I said anything.” She looked in the opposite direction.

“Look at me.” Tommy pleaded with a deep voice. “Lizzie… is not the type of woman that would make a man jealous.” How could he say it nicely? Lizzie was a whore, he didn’t judge her though… But he tried to be cautious with his words.

It took Y/N a moment to register what Tommy meant. But she got the hint wrong. “I get it… just like me, right?”

Mortified, Tommy placed his hands on her shoulders. “No, no that’s not what I was trying to say.” The last thing he wanted to was to hurt her.

“Sure.”

“Y/N…” Tommy whispered, using his forefinger to tilt her head up. “You’re different.”

“The only difference is that she gets paid.” Y/N shuddered, accepting her new reality.

“That’s not true and you know it.” He was too close for her to smell his aftershave and cologne.

His thumb caressing softly her chin.

Shaking her head, she took a step back, but the bold movement made her feel dizzy, her head started spinning.

“What is it?” He asked with worry. “Are you alright?”

Y/N let him guide her to the closest chair. “Yes, it’s just this dizziness, it will go away in a minute.”

But despite Y/N’s efforts to calm him down, Tommy got worrier by the minute.

“Do you need anything?” He eyed Y/N, trying to read her expressions.

“No, thanks.”

“Y/N tell me what I can do for you.” Tommy kneeled before her.

The way he showed her that he genuinely cared about her, melted her heart. Having Tommy’s support meant to her more than words could express.

“I swear I’m fine.”

“Are you feeling poorly?” Polly stepped into Tommy’s office.

“She got dizzy.” He answered for Y/N, looking at his aunt.

“I’ll make you some tea.” She announced before giving Y/N a gentle squeeze on her arm. “Keep her with her head up until it pases, then bring her to the house, I need to speak to you.”

Polly’s look didn’t go unnoticed by Tommy.

He knew those eyes and something was happening, and judging by the look in them it had to be serious.

“I just came to tell you that you can set now the date to open the Institution as soon as we get the personnel.” Y/N announced with her eyes still closed.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard today.” The smile he gave her, was inevitable. “Can I help you with anything?”

“I don’t think you want to go through the interviews and stuff.” Y/N raised her eyebrows at him.

“No.” Tommy answered bluntly.

“That’s what I thought.” She gave him a smile that made him notice something else in her features, something that she didn’t have before, or at least he haven’t noticed… until now.

“Okay so you can sign those papers for me so I can go and sort this out?”

Tommy took the folder and placed his signature on the papers without even reading it. “You’re not taking off my money right?” He joked, the light mood in his voice mirrored in his eyes.

“Absolutely how do you think I’ll feed this baby?” She kept the joke going, feeling a bit better.

“Let me know how this goes.” He saw Y/N take her belongings and the papers. “Y/N how about a party to raise funds for the project? The school needs funding.”

Y/N ran her hand on the door thinking about it.

“A… fancy party?”

Tommy nodded. “With waiters and champagne and shit.” He had access now to the elite members club, people with enough money in their accounts to end poverty but selfish enough to not give away a single coin.

“Could you organize it?” He asked hiding his hands in his pockets.

“Yes, I can do that.” Excitement made her skin tingle, she had never been to a party like that, only once when Lady Winchester requested her to be by her side, but her place was to be back in the shadows, not as a guest.

“You’ll need a dress then. And some fancy shoes too.”

A dress! He had said a dress! She couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of it, she, a no body getting all dressed up to attend a rich people gathering while several weeks pregnant.

“You must not spare on anything, alright? I’ll give you a blank check so you can arrange all of it.” He explained proudly. His dreams finally materializing.

Y/N took in his success, all of the things he ever wanted, he never stopped, never complained. No, instead he focused on finding a way to do all that would take him to where he wanted to be.

His hard work and intelligence was admirable. He never relied on excuses. And despite what everyone might think of his imposing presence, he had a heart of gold and a genuine interest to help.

“Tommy?” Her soft voice pulled him out of his daydream. His blue eyes fixed on hers. “I’m so proud of you.”

She didn’t know how much her words meant to him. How he’d treasure and savor their taste… Y/N was the only person that saw him crying over his mother’s grave, she had been the one who helped him to be a part of the man he used to be when he got back from France, she heard him talk for hours of the horrors he had seen. And now she was helping him materialize his dreams, but in a very subtle way because she wasn’t impressed or interested in the luxury he could afford, she didn’t assume he’d give her everything, no, she wanted to work hard by herself to earn it. She wasn’t accepting anything more than what she thought was fair.

In a world where he could easily get confused and loose sight of what really matters, she was keeping him grounded.

“Do you want to have dinner in your office?” Y/N asked Tommy as she found him in the hall.

After looking at his clock, he guarded it safely again in his pocket, trying to keep his nerves at bay, he had a secret meeting with Churchill in a desert road, he wanted to share some more instructions about the upcoming deal with the Russians and not having total control over when and how things would happen was driving Tommy mad. This was a very delicate matter and the slightest mistake could get them all murdered in a heartbeat.

“No, actually I’ve to go.”

Touching her arm and giving her a gentle squeeze, Tommy asked her to be safe before walking outside. His vehicle roared as he exited the property and Y/N found herself eating alone in the huge dining table.

For her own safety it was better if Y/N didn’t get involved in this. Russians simply didn’t care about anyone, they were fucking mad. He had been actually considering asking Y/N to go somewhere else safe, but knowing her the way he did, she’d take it badly, as if he was trying to get rid of her.

Y/N glanced at the window, it was dark. But she knew it wasn’t her place to ask anything else. Where could he go at this time of the night? With who?

As much as her bond was so close to Tommy, she needed to realize they weren’t stitched or glued to each other and Tommy generally was extremely reserved about his private affairs.

Being alone made Y/N feel miserable and sad, her whole days were filled with lots of people at the Shelby Company Ltd, or the tea time with her grandma at the Garrison or the moments she shared with Tommy once they arrived at Arrow House. So now being by herself it felt so different…so lonely.

“Mary could you please prepare a tea for me?” Y/N asked politely after finishing her dinner.

“I only serve Mr. Shelby ma’am.” The maid added before walking away.

In a few words, she made very clear that Y/N’s presence wasn’t as welcomed as she thought. And her loyalty was reserved for her master, not his unwelcome guest. So without another word, Y/N picked up her dirty dishes and brought it downstairs.

“Miss Y/LN what are you doing?” Asked one of the maids as the chef wiped his hands with his apron.

“I’m going to wash these.” Y/N stated firmly, voice close to break after the humiliating moment she went through with Mary.

If things were as they should be, Y/N would be working under Mary’s supervision.

“Absolutely not, let me handle this.” Gently, the maid retrieved the items and gave the pregnant woman a look. “Can I help you with anything else? Some desert?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, thanks. Where’s the kettle?” She asked instead. This place was huge and there was a walk-in pantry and everything was organized meticulously.

“This is because of Mary right?” Y/N fixed her eyes on the young girl. “What did she do?” But then she placed her hand on her lips, as if trying to say she messed up. “Apologies I shouldn’t have.”

“No, it’s fine… it’s not like I’m Mrs. Shelby.” She sighed and twisted nervously the bow at the front of her blouse. “She reminded me of my place in this house, that’s all.”

The young maid exploded. “She thinks she’s better than the rest of us, just because she’s in charge of everything.”

Y/N studied her features, noticing her reaction was genuine.

“She’s always criticizing the way I do my job, it’s never good enough. And Mr. Shelby doesn’t even care…”

“I know this isn’t my business.” The chef caught her attention. “But she had been complaining about you to every member of the staff, she doesn’t understands why she has to attend you and do things for you when you’re not married to Mr. Shelby.” Duncan explained as he cleaned the stove.

“Oh I’ve heard her plenty of times too, you should talk to Mr. Shelby.” The kind maid suggested.

But Y/N shook her head and thanked the woman for preparing a tea for her. “No, I’m not here to cause Tommy more trouble. And he needs Mary to take care of everything.”

All of this was because Mary had very inflexible thoughts about premarital sex, she was always murmuring “this offends the Lord… or Lord forgive them for that.” So with Y/N being pregnant and living with a man without being married, this was a sin. Y/N was a sinner and in her eyes, she didn’t deserve even a bloody cup of tea.

“Thanks for the tea and the company. I’m sure Tommy wouldn’t mind if you got to have some rest early, all the chores pending can be done in the morning.” Y/N gave them both a smile and rushed upstairs to her bedroom.

The place was huge and she made sure to lock her door, a constant fear of some intruder breaking into the mansion made her feel uneasy. Tommy had a bunch of enemies after all, they wouldn’t care about harming her or her baby just to get to Tommy.

It was too late now to regret anything, it wouldn’t change the course of things. But sitting on the ottoman by the window, she let her mind wander to think of her baby, to imagine if would it be a girl or a boy?

She wondered how would it feel the kicks and her baby would like to hear her singing a lullaby to sleep. Polly already warned her that she’d buy a stroller and a crib for when the baby is born and her grandmother was already knitting some shoes and a blanket. Esme promised to give her a box full of clothes of all sizes so she could choose what to keep, each gesture kept touching her heart, to realize how generous they all were to her, never making her feel bad or unwelcome. She would make sure to let her baby know of all the love that surrounded them even before the birth.

Y/N knew that sometimes blood means nothing sadly, but life always brings a good group of people to replace the others.

But thankfully her baby would’ve lots of arms to cuddle on and a loving chosen family to rely on.

Master list

Thank you so much for reading ! ✨🥰 I hope you like this part, as usual, your words is what keeps this going xx

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#that’s what Cill said #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x fem!reader #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x imagine #tommy shelby fan fic #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fan fiction #cillian murphy characters

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wildbluesorbit · 5 months

Text

London || JTK

18+MDNI

Paring: asshole!Jakexreader(f)

A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE! I can’t even tell y’all how nervous I am; this is my first fic AND the first smut I’ve ever written. I’m a Third Eye Blind freak and just generally think this song is one of the sexiest songs in existence so naturally I knew I wanted to write this fic. Big big love and thank you’s for my editor @tommie-gvf. I loved writing this so much and didn’t think it could get any better until I saw everyone’s reactions.❤️‍🩹

I ask for your patience as I’m a beginner and am very open to criticism. Pretty please tell me what you think!

Summary || Jake has a lover that lives in London. He visits her every time he’s in town, but recently the simmering situationship has taken a toxic turn.

Content Warnings || swearing, alcohol consumption, party setting, toxic relationship, jealousy, over possession, verbal aggression, slight physical aggression, big angst, graphic sexual depictions

Kink Content || dom(m) and sub(f) shift, [semi] public sex, dirty talk; praise & [public] degradation, sadism, zelophilia, katoptronophilia, daddy kink, slight impact play, nipple play, dry humping, hand job, ejaculation(f), oral sex(f receiving), penetrational sex

Word Count || 8.3k+

*disclaimer - I have no idea how to write any European, reader’s origin is up for interpretation*

You continue to refresh your phone screen in hopes that it will load a new message or maybe even reveal a glitch.

“You know,” your best friend, Claire, aspires to tempt you back to reality, “that guy hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since we got here, right?”

A hum in acknowledgment of her bait is the only thing your split attention will allow as you proceed in refreshing your messages. Even going as far to restart your phone.

“He's kind of cute,” you return another hum as she sings further, “like really cute.”

“Go on then, have a go,” you try to push her self-assigned matchmaking duties back on her.

You have no choice but to be shoved back into the rumbustious surroundings of the overpopulated flat party as your phone is suddenly ripped from your hands. Claire raises it above her head not even bothering to investigate what might be holding you hostage. She is well aware of your antics.

“Please don’t tell me you're texting him again,” she lifts the device higher as you futilely lunge for it.

“He said he was coming,” you begin to gather a defense, “but I haven’t gotten a response since I sent the address… maybe hold my phone a bit higher?”

Claire lets out a monstrous groan of frustration and rolls her eyes, “You really are helpless!”

“I know,” you repine and give her your best pleading puppy dog eyes and hold two starving hands out in front of you.

Begrudgingly she gives in, slamming your phone against your awaiting palms. As soon as your phone is back in your possession you return to refreshing your messages, all in vain of course.

Whenever Jake was in London he always visited you, sometimes even flying you out to whatever part of Europe his show was in or just because he wanted to see you. A trail of one night stands that became ritual.

The nights always started out modest, the two of you innocently traipsing about parties and bars accompanied by his brothers. You would all share drinks and stories for hours, belly laughing until you were ceased by sore ribs, as if you had all been friends for decades.

Nevertheless without fail, as the drinks poured further so did Jake’s appetite for you. He'd always shadow you with some kind of seemingly harmless touch; a hand on the small of your back progressed into squeezing your knee and then thigh, to tugging you into him by the waist when he was made uncomfortable or wanted to share a secret amongst chaotic surroundings.

One by one, his brothers would slowly fade out; Sam first, then Danny, and Josh was always the last to let the party die, taking it with him when he went. From that point, the evenings between you and Jake would morph into a primitive and sensual burn. Teasing and tearing at each other until the two of you eventually spent the rest of your night curled around the other. Once again, darting back to your guarded bubble of shy soft intimacy; neither of you willing to accept it was different from anything else anyone made you feel. Time spent together was something the both of you always rushed through days for, memories neatly placed in a treasure chest of beloved keepsakes when it was over.

But lately, it was different. Something brittle and bitter had blossomed. Jake had gotten only bigger and busier. Sometimes, he’d pule about missing you so naturally you’d beg to see him. He’d send beautiful trinkets and fine clothing from whatever part of the world he was in that next week to ineffectively make up for his absence no token would ever emulate.

Though you are elated for him, you are also acutely aware of your need to move on in order to outrun the pining tidal wave that threatens to swallow you whole. You’d tried before, but no man was Jake. And seeing you with other men only spelled him into a envious fit. A sight that tormented you both, the other too afraid to cry out as nothing was ever set in stone.

So instead you’d go to war over some irrelative thing and he’d ultimately swear on his beloved he didn’t give a shit about you and when or if he’d see you again; only to gift you some pretty peace offering in amends to offset the vigorous cycle once again.

Like a vinyl record against the needle, the two of you are going round and round the same circle; different songs, same sonic. You know if the pattern continues, you are slowly headed towards the dead wax. You hope tonight will mend the broken pieces between you as he vowed he’d come to spoil you a few weeks ago.

“You need to cut him off,” Claire has stated her stance on the situationship brazenly before, “all he does is treat you like shit. He entertains you from a distance and keeps you waiting until he wants to get his dick wet.”

Having been through this debate with her many times, you only frown and exhale, “It's not like that and you know it.”

She mirrors your disapproval, “Isn’t it?”

Just as you are forming your rebuttal your phone buzzes in your hands; confiscating your ability to exist anywhere other than your screen. It might as well have looked like you were going to dial 9-9-9 the way you dementedly scramble to open your phone.

JAKE:

Hey, angel. Sorry, I got stuck at this dive with my brothers and now they don’t want to leave. I think we’re just going to spend the rest of the night here. Maybe I’ll catch you next time?

You had not been enjoying your time at this party. You had been ignoring your best friend. You had been ignoring cute flirty strangers. You had been exuberantly anticipating Jake’s company tonight for months. All to be left on read, pathetically pining for hours now; all so you could be stood up by the man.

Your chest bursts with flames of mortified resentment, fueled by his impudence. Irate does not even scratch the surface of how your heart pounds. Your blood is scalding, skin scorching.

Jake made you feel stupid yet again.

Your face must give you away before you can even get out a word of impertinence as you look up from the insolent text to see Claire smugly sipping her drink.

A knowing smirk spreads viral across her face, “He's not coming, is he?”

The last thing you want to do is tell her bitch ass she is right in your state of red. Instead, you offer her a question you know will sate her pride without feeding on your wounds.

A vengeful grin takes hold of you “Cute stranger checking me out, you mentioned?”

You have never seen her look so pleased with herself as she nods in the direction of a man at the end of the bar whose gaze you hold.

There is no way you are going to let this night go to waste. Not after Jake made such a desperate-looking fool out of you.

You decide if he is going to ignore you it's going to be his loss, not yours. You are not going to let him waste your time and you are definitely not going to let him take your fun.

You throw your most alluring eyes and innocent smile at the stranger and wave him over. He returns the greeting and calls some indiscernible phrases out to the bartender before receiving three drinks and walking over to your table.

He is tall, dark, and handsome. The complete opposite of Jake. A promise of great distraction.

He sets the three drinks down at your table pushing two glasses of what he claims to be screwdrivers towards Claire and yourself. He then proceeds to introduce himself as Hunter through an almost seemingly painful giant smile.

You can’t help but compare it to your favorite pretty and childlike grin Jake always wore, a sight you ache for.

You cordially engage in small talk with him, asking and answering the procedural “Where are you from?”, “What do you do?”, and “What do you like to do?”; fitting in the occasional desirous glances and seemingly innocent yet lingering touches when appropriate.

He is definitely funny, but not witty and satirical like Jake’s humor; undeniably intelligent, but not in the philosophical and existential sense like Jake.

You mentally berate yourself for still thinking about a guy who is obviously not thinking about you when Hunter clutches your hand, ripping you from your dissociation.

He points towards the middle of the flat where you see multiple people frolicking about, “Do you want to dance?”

Why the hell not? You throw back the rest of your drink and smirk wide in response. This seems to oddly appease Hunter but you think nothing of it as you feel yourself being towed to the make-shift dance floor.

At first, the movements are modest, just an adventurous activity between acquaintances. But after a few songs, you feel the alcohol rid you of your inhibitions, most likely against your better judgment, but at this moment you can’t seem to wrap your fingers around any care if you tried.

You grind and tangle yourself up with this man you hardly know. He seems into it and you are blissfully swept away from your afflictions, a win-win. So what is the harm?

As soon as the thought has come and gone, you feel it; an overwhelming perilous sensation of being surveilled. You turn your attention over to where you had left Claire at your table to see her deeply engaged in conversation with Josh.

Fuck. Where there is a Josh there is most certainly a Jake.

You whirl towards the flat’s bar to lock eyes with the source of the sinister stare; an infuriated Jake leaning against the countertop, arms crossed. He holds your gaping stare with a blistering nostril-flared one of his own, licking over his salient bottom lip into that bewitching pout and clenching his jaw.

A small part of you threatens to collapse under guilt as if you have been caught doing something wrong. But you find the majority of you seethes under a new tantalizing flame, devouring any clemency present.

Almost drunk off of this new power dynamic, finally, you have the upper hand and Jake is the one squirming. Of course, you want Jake over this clown any day of the week but he had made you wait almost all night, he can definitely handle a few more minutes.

You spin, now facing towards Jake’s beaming acrimony from the bar, allowing him a full access view to you commandeering one of Hunter's hands connected to the small of your back and slowly guiding him down to your ass, the other to your waist. You press your backside against his pelvis and his hips follow, grinding in the motions of your own.

You stretch upward as high behind you as you can, sinking your fingers into Hunter’s thick black curls. Just to sell it, you showmanly lean your head back against Hunter’s shoulder and whisper sweet nothings in his ear when he leans down into you.

You glance up at your petulant victim to see Jake roll his eyes and throw his head back in a deriding chuckle before he slams down the rest of his pint. Jake is most certainly under your spell.

You tell yourself that each song with Hunter is the last dance until you’re unsure how many have passed. Any concept of time you own is completely suspended in the delicious way Jake looks when he is hungry to devour what he can’t have, and in this moment it happens to be you.

Abruptly, you feel yourself being swept towards the nearest wall and your face being tilted up towards Hunter’s as he cranes his mouth down to meet yours.

It is nice. Pleasurable for sure. He is definitely a good kisser, but again all you can bring yourself to think of is Jake’s perfectly pink pouty lips pressed against yours.

There is no point in tormenting Jake if you are just as miserable.

As you are about to break away from the stale kiss, Hunter’s weight that is pinning you up against the wall unexpectedly falters, sending you fumbling to the floor. You attempt to regain your balance but the room is slightly spinning, a likely side effect from the alcohol in your bloodstream. You might have questioned it having only had a drink or two if your focus wasn’t currently employed by figuring your way back to vertical.

A hand makes its way into your line of sight, offering to help you up. You swat away the aid, recognizing it as Jake’s. He huffs and shakes his head vexed. Jake brings himself closer to the whirling stack of bones that you are on the floor and tenaciously claps his rangy hands around your waist; making a show to assign his fingers in the exact arrangement where Hunter’s had just been. He devoutly springs you to your feet as if you'd rehearsed the move. As soon as you gain your footing you step back from Jake and dust yourself off, despite landing on a clean floor.

You inspect your crumbs of clues; the boys glaring at each other and at the brink of verbal warfare. You arrive at the conclusion that a fuming Jake had let all restraint dissipate as he shoved Hunter off of you in his impulsive fit.

“Why don’t you go find some other victim to slam into a wall,” Jake snarls, “she’s had enough for tonight.”

“She didn’t seem to have a problem when she was dancing all over me,” Hunter shoots back genuinely confused, “are you supposed to be her boyfriend or something?”

You race to interject, “He is not,” addressing Hunter but then throw your finger in Jake’s face, “and you have no right-”

Hunter takes one big territorial step to cleat himself between you and your oppressor. An exasperated Jake scowls at your fictitious defender and back to you, his features melting into a sickened sight as if to ask if you are really going to allow him to be vilified as the threat.

Of course protection from Jake is the last thing you will ever need. He could say whatever he’d like but Jake will never lay a harmful finger to you.

However, the hunt makes the game. You subtly shrug at Jake and let the mens’ egos carry out your dirty work.

Hunter sets his fist on Jake’s sternum in an attempt to get him to step back, “Mate, she doesn’t seem to be into it so why don’t you give us some space.”

This is the trigger that detonates the antagonized man just in front of your human shield.

“Oh trust me, mate,” he mimics Hunter in an explosion, the shrapnel riding your blood to your cheeks, “when I say I happen to know what the little slut is into and it is definitely not-” Jake is cut off by a panicky Josh now stepping in between the two before Jake can say anything he can’t take back.

Josh seems to instruct his detesting brother through glances. You always find it hard to properly digest a situation with the appropriate amount of severity when the twins begin conversing with mere facial expressions.

It only lasts for a second or two before Jake refixes his glare towards Hunter. Mirroring Jake, Josh returns to Hunter with an antsy smile and places a friendly hand on his barely-reachable shoulder, as if he is about to deliver bad news.

“Sorry about him,” he starts to mediate, motioning towards his fuming twin he shrugs and chuckles nervously, “tequila makes him aggressive.”

You almost giggle at Josh’s flamboyant rescue. He is a detail oriented man who is verbally quick on his feet. He usually paints pictures you can not poke holes in. So you know he must be distraught or drunk as you hadn't even seen Jake drink an ounce of liquor since he arrived.

However, Hunter doesn’t seem quite as amused as he slaps Josh's hand off and grunts, “Whatever, I don’t do crazy exes anyway.”

He insincerely waves you off and facetiously blows Jake a kiss in one last satirical jab before sauntering off, dematerializing amongst the crowd.

Jake now recoils from Josh’s touch and waits for him to vanish as well. However, Josh’s sight seeks you and bears a disapproving nod, warning you to behave in a glower. For a split second, you forget he is a twin as his protective demeanor is all that of a vigilant elder sibling.

Nevertheless, Josh makes his way back to where he had been so unnecessarily interrupted and dragged away from Claire.

Your attention gravitates to Jake in daggers. Before you can form any thoughts or strategy, venom goes flying past your lips, “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!”

Jake swivels his head around, slightly panicking at all the partygoers that had stopped party going to sightsee this freak show. He never likes to be the center of attention unless he has six strings and a fretboard under his fingers.

Nimbly, he leads you by the arm into the nearby bathroom and slams the door shut.

You throw your arms out in confusion, “Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

He fires back, “No, just my patience with you!”

The room is small enough now that his scent circulates and the offensive smell of beer and bourbon attacks your senses; which explains his uncharacteristic boldness.

“Shit, Jake, you smell like a fucking brewery,” you spit out.

He seems to grasp how sloppy he let himself get. Your words siphon a hint of sobriety as he takes a deep breath and now speaks to you with a much more repealed approach.

You can tell he is still upset but is focusing on his convictions for the moment, “Are you okay? I didn’t mean for you to fall like that.” He hesitates, “And I’m sorry- I have no idea why I called you slut- I didn’t mean-”

You are nearly swept away by the sweet breeze of your angelic Jake; the one that trips over his words when he gets excited and loves to take on whimsical personas of his own invention. Jake that is present and kind, even at the end of the night. But just like a fleeting breeze, you easily withstand his charms.

He may have found his composure but you certainly did not, not that you want to, “I’m fine, Jacob! Want to explain whatever the shit that was?!”

Any remorse present in his tone abandons him, “Oh please, you wanted that! I could see it all over your face while you were messing with that prick. I don’t even know why I'm surprised. You’re like a child who throws a fucking fit. The moment I don't do or tell you exactly what you want you go throw yourself into the arms of some random no-good fuck. I knew you were with him as soon as you went radio silent.”

You narrow your eyes at him. You’re almost suspicious of the blank canvas he’s left for you to fill in with logic; he’s usually ten points ahead when debating, never speaking a vulnerable statement for someone to collapse before him. You are almost hesitant to ask the question.

Your hand finds your hip as a means to reinforce your interrogation, “That’s just it, isn’t it? You don’t own me, Jake! So what if I was dancing with Hunter?”

He rolls his eyes and growls at the mention of his name. If Jake were an ounce more theatrical you swear he would have gagged too.

You cross your arms and lean into the balls of your feet as you sharpen your questions, knowing you have him trapped, “If you knew, why did you even show up then? Why do you even care? It’s not like I’m your girlfriend or anything?”

He blurts out way too quickly to disguise any aloofness, “I don’t care!”

Jake immediately throws his head back in defeat and groans, crumbling under further rumination of your questions, as if they frustrate him as much as they do you, “I don’t know! You just- It kills me to see you- sometimes- you make me so-”

He is struggling to articulate his thoughts without making himself look like the blatant asshole, but you see right through it.

You, however, have no problem spitting the word out. In fact, it progresses the igneous tension between the two of you into a delicious sweltering burn.

You dangle the word right in front of him just to watch him squirm, “Jealous?”

The accusation furrows his brow and tightens his shoulders.

If you didn’t know any better, his sudden dark tone would have you red with shame for such an accusation, “You think I’m jealous? Trust me, kitten, you haven’t even seen jealousy. Go fuck that guy for all I care.”

You giggle and raise a slanderous eyebrow, soundlessly challenging his overtly bogus defense. Your defiance vacillates Jake back to his munition.

He charges towards you, his footsteps following the alignment of his pointer finger swinging in your direction, “What the fuck are you smiling at- You know what?! Fuck this and fuck you! You always do this. Always getting me into more trouble than I bargain for.”

Jake is growling in fragments now, growing taller with every step he takes drawing in towards you, surrendering to your gravity.

“This isn’t me! I’m not this person who gets jealous and fights with strangers at a party,” he gestures his clenched fists towards you, arms length away now, “And I don’t like being angry with you!”

Jake corners you between the wall and a stall, yet his rushing commute ceases to falter, “And what’s worse is I actually think you enjoy this! You must get off on this! I think you want to see me lose my mind!”

Jake is close enough that you are now confronted by the moles that cradle his right jaw, the charming silver starting to streak from his temples, the sculpt in the cartilage of his prominent nose, and the slight uneven curl of his upper lip. Details no camera could capture and no screaming fan could ever have knowledge of; intimate details one would ever amass without his admission.

If he moves any closer he would have to kiss you. He scolded you for getting worked up off his anger when he was doing the exact same thing. The worst part being you aren’t even sure if he has caught on to this rage-driven gravitation between the two of you. His face reads “Caution, stay away,” but his body is imploring you to take care of him. He is right where you want him, giving you all the power once again.

He resumes waving his finger at you and stiffly pokes your collarbone. He opens his mouth to make another point but his words never deliver themselves. You see his very thoughts dematerialize as he touches your buzzing skin.

He doesn’t even lift his finger from you, just lets it fall to the start of your breasts, making your chest heave. He subconsciously presses his body to yours; so close you catch his erratic breaths on your lips.

You hastily retort while he is distracted, “That’s pretty amusing considering you're the asshole that ruined my night, not the other way around, slut.”

He rakes the pad of his finger still connected to you, up your clavicle till it rests at the top of your outermost prominent neck muscle, delicately wrapping the rest of his digits around your throat once he runs out of room. He sinks further into your orbit so that he is now hovering just above your features.

“Look at you, just begging for someone to put you in your place,” he rasps out, ever so slightly applying a teasing pressure to reduce your air flow.

Collecting yourself enough to stream your words out in a lazy river, you dare taunt the feral man that holds your next breath between his fingers, “Look at you, Jacob, absolutely rabid with jealousy.”

“I’ve had it with your little attitude,” his hand delectably contorts further around your throat in a fit of conniption as he roars through clenched teeth, “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t fucking drag me here to make me jealous.”

“Bite me, Jake,” you roll your eyes at his arrogance.

You expect him to snap at you, to reprimand you for your insubordination. However, to your surprise he laps one long stripe from the corner of your pout to the start of your cheekbone. The action expels your nerves into shock; a shudder slithers its way up your spine.

Jake sighs against the shell of your ear, “Is that why you’re being such a little fucking brat? You just want me to bite you, sweetheart? Is that it?”

Your only response is a whimper as a crackling heat awakes between your thighs and your hips grind into Jake on their own accord; giving him the only answer he needs.

Satiated by your feedback, Jake nearly moans at regaining the upper hand, “I swear- and why should I even care, kitten?”

You urgently squeal, struggling against your constricting airway, “Because it’s your fault! I’ve never craved attention until you did this to me!”

Cocking his head to the side to purport the appearance of a disapproving analysis, he mocks your need, “How did we end up like this, beautiful? We are absolutely no good for each other.”

You don’t bother devising a clever response, knowing he’s already decided to give you what you want.

He clenches his jaw and runs his tongue along the ridges of his teeth, twisting the pink muscle into the crevices of his molars, “It’s rude to stare, kitten. Do I need to teach you how to use that pretty smart mouth of yours?”

You only bat your eyes at him, your expressionless face waiting for what you know comes next.

He raises an eyebrow at you, impatient for some response and mutters, “Say something.”

A shit-eating grin sneaks its way onto your face, “Don’t forget to lock the door, babyboy.”

Jake’s once kind eyes grow dark to an absolutely immoral shade of lust. Heedlessly, his lips crash against yours, the sensation you’ve fantasized about since the last time his mouth deserted yours. He tastes of bourbon and peaches.

He slips his hands around your ass and hauls you up to straddle his waist. You wrap your legs around him as he staggers towards the door lock as you instructed, as if he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you long enough to complete the task first.

Jake places you on the sink and protestingly pries himself back from you, as if starving for more but looking at you was a vital duty he must perform.

His eyes plot you up and down, infatuated with this strand of you, reserved only for him. You don’t have to say a word for Jake to know what happens when he’s away; the way you move for him confesses everything he is already aware of. He is the only one capable of having you completely and utterly vulnerable and unguarded and unadulterated; animalistically yourself.

For the first time tonight, Jake’s pretty pout draws back in a genuine smile for you; a giddy fool and his favorite fix.

He gracefully reaches to untie your wrap blouse and it falls to your sides, uncurtaining your heaving breasts. He hums in satisfaction of your physique.

Jake lightly places his hands on your knees and observes as his fingers featherly dance upon your thighs, only to stop and squeeze into the thick of them until he leaves white imprints. He curls into you, Jake’s perpetually exposed chest rubbing against your newly bare nipples, extracting a hiss from you.

Your core already weeps with need.

The hungry man burrows his face into your neck but stops right before his lips meet your skin, knowing you desperately need his mouth.

He teases you with a tickling whisper, “Fuck- I missed you. They don’t make girls like you in Nashville.”

The ribbing huff of his breath makes you shudder.

You press your hand against his hip, slide it down the curve of his thigh and inward till you map out his hard length through his pants, “I can see, you poor thing.”

Your movement draws a low growl from him in your ear, “Fuck- You see what you do to me, kitten? You see all the problems you cause me?”

You begin to palm him through his clothes and feign out a bratty whine, “Yes, but we always have such a good time, don’t we Jakey?”

Jake begins to eat at your neck while you continue to caress him until he moves down and out of your reach.

He plots out your clavicle, licking down your sternum through the valley of your peaking breasts; delaying his journey to lap one of your nipples into his warm salacious mouth as he gropes the other in his lanky hand. A few mumbled swears fall from you as Jake begins to venture in biting and sucking marks into the supple flesh of your breasts, soothing each spot with candied kisses afterwards.

“Shit- just when I thought these perfect tits couldn’t get any prettier. An absolutely breathtaking sight with my bitemarks,” he pants.

Jake’s mouth resumes its migration south to your goosebump ridden thighs. He sinks his fingers into the flesh of your ass, resting his elbows against the corners of the sink for balance as he lowers the rest of his body to accommodate the angle of your glistening center.

His mouth now takes purchase of where his fingertips had just deserted your thighs, kissing away the residual sting; closer and closer to your entrance till his head vanishes, canopied in between your skirt and legs. You feel the heat of his huffing through the lace of your panties. The sensation alone is enough to make you whine with need. Jake then bites into the material of your damp thong, sampling your arousal as he tugs your underwear to the side using his teeth. Jake plants his lips to yours in a row of delicate kisses, making you quiver with anticipation.

“Wider,” he growls out the demand.

You lean back to let your bare shoulder blades rest against the ice cold mirror behind you in order to grant him better access to your wetness. Jake is entranced as he gapes at how the chill glass spells you to hiss and clench around nothing.

He takes a deep inhale of you and slots the tip of his nose against your entrance. In one agonizingly slow movement he reclines his head so that his nose flits over your aching clit as he sticks out the flat of his tongue to follow the lewd trail.

You open your mouth to sing his praises but all that comes out is his name in a hiccuping squeak.

He then wraps his ample lips around your throbbing clit and nimbly sucks it into the warm plush of his mouth, swirling his velvety tongue around your bud.

The deed elicits a piteous wail to escape you and the confiscation of any remaining control over your restless limbs. Your hips involuntarily swing forward, seeking more of his mouth.

He rewards you with a swift smack against your thigh, “Easy,” he begins to plant light kisses on your entrance, “needy little thing today, aren’t you?”

Having not fully removed his mouth from you, the vibrations of his teasing words sends unexpected ripples of titillation humming through you, instigating your reeling squirms further, “Relax, kitten. I know how to take care of you. I know what you need.”

He finally unlatches his other hand from your ass. You hadn’t even registered the delicious sting of his fingers over the imperious pleasure of his mouth; a pain promising to blossom into pretty hues of purples, blues, and greens.

He delineates the curve of your thigh with his fingertips, finally fluttering over your entrance. Impatiently, he hikes your skirt up to bunch at your waist. He savagely yanks your lace underwear down and over your ankles, not even bothering to wait for you to adjust to help slip the material off. He looks to you with a seemingly innocent goofy grin as he pockets his newly pillaged treasure.

You roll your eyes and press your lips together to stifle your obvious giggle. In a feigned offense, Jake snatches your ankles in his grasp to reestablish his authority and your attention. Slowly, he lifts your legs to settle your thighs around his shoulders, careful not to throw off your balance on the porcelain counter.

You lock your ankles around him as his hands pet up your legs and wrap around your thighs to bore into your flesh. Jake reintroduces his mouth to your soaking entrance, sloppily devouring your nectar.

Though pleasing, you know he is holding out on you. Jake loves to hear you beg; for you to pray for what you know he can’t help but give you.

“Jake, more,” you demand despite knowing it will land void.

He immediately ceases his feed and arrogantly reminds you of your place, “Oh, I don’t think you’re in any position to give orders now, are you kitten?”

Mourning the loss of his mouth, you choke on a sob, “No, Jake!”

He tenderly begins to brush his digits along your skin, “That’s right, but I happen to know that pretty mouth sings a lot lovelier than she barks.”

He moves one of his thumbs to circle over your swollen clit as incentive, making his compulsion undeniable.

You desperately pant out your pleas, “Please- Shit- Please, Jake. I need- Jake- Fuck- fingers?”

“Sorry, baby, you’re not making any sense,” he terrorizes you now, stretching a free digit from your bud to tease your entrance.

You manage to piece together your needs enough to satisfy him, “Jake- please, I need your fingers- need them inside me- I need to soak them- please, baby?”

Your scandalous words draw a sweet moan from him. The vivacious grant of your request tells you he can’t stand to make you wait any longer.

He begins pumping his middle and ring finger inside you, making you mewl his name.

He once again envelopes your clit in his lips and begins to suck and lap you towards ecstasy. You feel the euphoric tension strain your abdomen as Jake curls his fingers around the spot he always seems to effortlessly discover.

“Fuck- Jake don’t stop- please- please don’t stop,” your voice reaches the high pitch only he brings it to.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, you sound too pretty with my fingers inside you to deny,” he coos against your sensitive clit.

Jake’s lustful praises send you into an orgasmic haze as your walls squeeze around his fingers and back arches away from the mirror.

As he feels you getting close, Jake begins to coach you, “Relax for me, beautiful. Can you relax that pretty pussy for me?”

You inventory only enough coherency to wantonly moan, indicating your process of his demand.

“Good girl, that's it. Just breathe and take it,” his praises coerce you into obedience.

Even though every endorphin in your body is imploring you to writhe at Jake’s touch, you do your best to relax and breathe as he ordered. You relent to Jake’s fingers, allowing him to caress into a new spot, a fresh wave of sensitivity finding you.

He knows he’s found the place as soon as you squeal his name in response. He begins to violently fuck deep into you with his hand, pumping in and out of you, his fingertips catching his new target every time, catapulting you into your orgasm. You're consumed by white heat as you soar through your ecstasy.

You’ve cleared through your orgasm yet oddly the tension in your abdomen is not alleviated but is now twice as constricting.

Jake never ceases to send his fingers in and out of you at a furious pace and the pressure that builds is of a different class, requiring your whole body to participate in your release. Where he was once babying his mark, he is now assaulting it; his digits curling into you with every pump. The sloppy sounds of Jake finger fucking you grows louder with every stroke.

His lips swallow your clit, slurping you into his mouth for safekeeping, sending you into overdrive as you approach this new release. Your pussy begins to convulse and contract around Jake but he drives into you faster still.

“That’s it, babygirl, cum for me. I’ve missed having you on my tongue,” his words barely make their way into your consciousness.

Your vision begins to black out as your eyes roll back and your slick sprays his face and coats his hands.

Yet, Jake refuses to cease his assault. Your climax builds within you so tight, it rips its way out of you. Your cunt expels a deluge of liquids and continues to pour into Jake’s hand with every dizzying clench of your cunt. Again. Again. And again. Until you are downpour, trickling past his wrist and onto the tile floor.

“Fucking shit- Jacob- don’t stop- I can’t- I’m still cumming- Ja- Baby- Jacob,” your voice melodically crashes and breaks against waves of rasping screams and swearing whimpers louder still, floating off somewhere in oblivion.

Jake thinks it's the most beautiful you’ve ever sounded. Your body finally gives, and you collapse back against the mirror behind the sink. After a few seconds you peek your eyes open to see the mess you made.

He pulls away from you to stand once again and observes his glistening hand in a gaping awe, unphased by your cum dripping down his chin.

“I love when you do that,” he mutters more to himself than you as he slurps your elixir from his own limb.

He isn’t even touching you but the pornagraphic sight reels a moan from you.

“Does my beautiful girl want a taste of her own orgasm?”

He places his fingers along your lips, waiting for your consent. You stick your tongue out and he slides his digits up along the textured muscle until you stifle a slight gag; the veins that decorate his knuckles pressing into your top lip.

He pulls your mouth closer to his with his fingers, slipping them out just before he slides his tongue between your lips; you further taste your glaze as he licks into your mouth.

He impatiently pulls away from you with a hungry groan and scatters to undo his belt. His pants fall to his ankles, his normally hidden curves now visible; a delectable sight you will never grow tired of. His physique is appetizingly curvier than most men and the very view made your dripping pussy flutter without remedy.

Jake catches your ravenous stare and arrogantly quips, “See something you like, kitten?”

Rather than respond, you greedily grab at him and slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. You tug him closer along with the material and shimmy it down to liberate his hard painfully pink penis.

“I missed you too,” you run a finger over his leaking tip, causing his head to roll back in a hiss, “and this pretty cock.”

In one swift movement, you quickly gather your remaining arousal on his face in your free hand and reach down to slather his throbbing dick. You lay messy open mouth kisses along his jaw and neck as you now lightly pump him in your hand.

“Fuck- you’re so hot,” Jake rasps out at the loss of composure; his mouth slacks agape as you continue to jerk him off.

You move your hand to flick at his head and his features further melt in bliss.

“Slow down,” he whimpers, ”I want to be dripping down your thighs, not your hand,” his statement demands your submission.

You can tell Jake is unraveling fast as he starts twitching in your fingers. He is close until he obstinately pulls you away from him by the wrist.

You pout out an apology and he relocates your hands around his shoulders, and grabs your waist as he paints your cheek with open mouth kisses. His tongue works a long stripe behind your ear and sucks your lobe into his mouth.

He speaks through teeth clenched around your cartilage, “You always misbehave like such a brat, but underneath it all my girl is just a sweet thing, aren’t you?”

His intimate words alone render you to a din of pitiful mutters and swears.

You feel him begin to press his hard cock into the thick of your thigh, involuntarily pursuing relief, “You just need someone who knows what you are, hmm? Knows what you need?”

You praise and beg as your center is reintroduced to that familiar ache, “Jake, please. You know what I need.”

The sensation of Jake grinding himself against your leg dissolves all restraint. You try to buck your hips towards him in search of what you want most, but he doesn’t let you succeed. Jake arrests your waist to push you further back onto the sink.

He snickers at your cupidity, “What a greedy little slut. Just came a fucking mess and you already want more.”

You stroke his ego with hopes flattery will seduce him, “Yes- I’m a glutton for you, please, Jake?”

You scoot back up to the edge of the sink and grab at him; mad for his touch. Instead, your ambition is requited with a stinging smack to your cunt as he bellows the command, “Sit still! I’m not going to tell you again.”

You can’t help the fearless groan that echoes throughout the small room.

He bitterly miffs, “Yea? Should have thought about that before you were fucking around with that shit for brains?”

“Jake, I’m sorry,” you gravel, growing more impatient by the second that you can’t feel him.

Your insincere words purchase you no spoils as he taunts you further, “Good- You have no idea. I wanted to break his fucking nose wide open! What was his name again, sweet thing?”

Before you can fashion any remark, he yanks you to teeter on the end of the countertop once again. Jake, shaft in hand, drives his throbbing tip just past your lips, and flicks himself against your sensitive clit.

Your knuckles grip white against the corners of the porcelain struggling to remain in place as you whimper gibberish, “Fuck- Jake- I- MMM- fuck-”

“Look at my good sweet girl, so cock drunk she can’t even remember the pawn she was using to make me jealous a few minutes ago,” he smugly croons.

He featherly runs his fingers through the tresses of your hair. As he smooths down your mane you cave into his touch.

“I fucking hated seeing you with him,” his words drip with scorn, “It killed me. You deserve better because you’re my good girl.”

Lining himself up to press into your labia, he docks his forehead against your clavicle to look down at his toying with you. Slightly arching forward, his pink head only just glides past your entrance.

You are teetering over the line of ditzy, Jake’s tantalizing quips being the only tether before you are too far gone, “What a filthy slut? Playing dirty to get Daddy’s attention?”

Any remaining composure flees from you as the name is growled against your skin and you immediately call it back to him, “Shit- I’m- fuck- I’m sorry, Daddy. Please, fuck me?!”

One hand still residing in your hair, he tugs by the root to guide your ear to his open mouth, “Well you’ve got my attention now, my sweet little fucked out thing.”

Without warning, Jake mercilessly thrusts himself inside you to the hilt. You slap your hand over your mouth to silence the obscene wails tearing through you.

Jake promptly rips your hand away, “Don’t you fucking dare. I want everyone to hear my little cock drunk slut sing.”

Without granting you an opportunity to adjust to his girth, he pulls himself nearly all the way out just to plunge himself all the way back in, driving into that magical spot.

Just as that illustrious need grows in your stomach, Jake pulls out completely. You don’t have the opportunity to protest before he gathers you from off the countertop and twists you around towards your reflection. He gingerly presses his touch into the protruding shape of your shoulder blade, lightly ushering you to lean over the slab of the counter. You surrender to Jake’s decree, not willing to risk your orgasm.

Jake finds your fucked out gaze through the mirror and faintly adjures, “I want you to watch as I fuck you.”

You know better than to mistake his lowly tone for submission. You lean your weight on your elbows as you settle against the sink and raise your head to take in every detail as Jake begins fuck into you from behind.

His pace starts off moderate, but every stroke pierces deep. Your eyes are spellbound by the vision of his pelvic bone slamming into your ass with every harsh swing of his hips.

You do your best to keep your eyes visible as his rhythm picks up, but inevitably your head hangs limp, dizzy from your approaching high. You resign from your efforts once he begins to rock into you faster, burying himself further in your cunt.

You are compensated by a half-lidded Jake forcing your head back up by your chin, “Nah-uh. Look at me, baby.”

You manage to anchor your head where Jake repositioned it, but you are helpless to the way your eyes roll back as he swivels his hips rutting into that sweet spot. Jake grants you exoneration as your walls tighten around his twitching cock, indicating you are close.

Your every muscle trembles as you are abraded by your final orgasm. You're too far gone in your trance. You babble a gibbered language of swears and crying moans as you give into the chemical release.

“Just one more for me, babygirl, you can take it,” he hushes you.

You are strung back from your trip by the stutter of Jake’s hips and hiccuping moans. He is close. You see him tire as he curls around you, his panting grunts tickling your skin.

“Come on, baby,” you root for him despite your own overstimulation, “fuck me full. Want it so bad.”

You are captivated by the reflection of his features contorting under bliss as he fights to keep his hips in motion. You roll your hips to follow Jake’s strokes as his high suspends his stamina.

His eyes roll back as he begins to convulse, his dick jerking inside you. He releases, his lewd moan of absolute venery graces your ears as he empties himself inside you, coating your pulsing walls.

Jake goes limp, briefly taking refuge against your backside as he catches his breath and you come down from your highs together. He lazily litters your skin with kisses wherever his lips can reach.

He sighs against your spine, “Fuck- you’re magnificent. Absolutely electric.”

He wills himself to stand vertical, tugging his pants back in place over his hips before he eases you upright. Assisting you with his steady grip on your pelvis, the steamy skin of his lithe chest sticks to your backside. He wraps an arm around your waist to hold you steady as your knees buckle upon landing, pulling you into him once more. He bows his head to warrant his lips to lathe your neck, savoring the salt of your skin.

Far too consumed to break away from his sloppy kisses, he tilts his head as his eyes hunt for the reflection of yours, “But I meant what I said earlier, we’re no good for each other.”

He nibbles his way up and sucks at the muscle of your jaw, “I like you way more than I planned to but there’s no way we can continue like this, babygirl.”

You go numb; the only sensation present being pins and needles pricking your chest. His words spell you dumb, abolishing any sense to speak or move.

He delicately spins you to face him once again and tenderly kisses the tip of your nose.

Jakes slightly pulls back to skillfully tie your blouse back up for you, “Whatever this is, it's got to settle here.”

“Jake- you-,” you breathlessly chase for the tail of your thought that doesn’t seem to exist.

He squeezes your hands in his, “I mean it, kitten, don’t call me anymore. I won’t pick up for you.”

The tender manner in which his lips love on you does not mesh with his condemning words.

He draws back to see tears you aren’t aware are now rolling down your flushed cheeks.

He lets go of one of your hands to cup your jaw and kisses the salty sadness from your features, “Don’t cry, baby, you’re perfect.”

He envelopes your lips between his one last time before he brings your hand still in his grasp to place his pucker against your knuckles and whisper, “Please take care of yourself for me, babygirl.”

You are prisoner to paralyzation as those enticing amber eyes abandon you; rendering you to nothing but shattered forsaken ruins strewn across an empty bathroom, grasping and grappling to purchase any sort of rationale beyond the carnage.

You’re forced to silently choke on consternation at the sight of his chestnut waves bouncing against his shoulders as Jake weightlessly vanishes through the swinging door.

pretty please let me know what you think🫶🏼

taglist - @alwaysonthemend @becinabubblegvf @carbondancingthroughtime @edgingthedarkness @fleet-of-fiction @gretasfallingsky @gretasmokerising @gvf23 @heckingfrick @hsfallingsky @imleavingyoufornewyork @kiszkazz @klarxtr @itsafullmoon @jakesguitarsolo @jakesmustache @livkiszka @sacredjake @sparrowofthedawnsworld @takenbythemadness @thewritingbeforesunrise @tripthelightfatality @vanfleeter @wetkleenex-gvf @zoe-tally06

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list and know y’all have already made this so rewarding❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

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hugsandchaos · 24 days

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Y’all know the concept of Danny getting a space-themed cape or cloak when he became the king or prince of the ghost zone? Imagine if the inside was also a sort of portal he can use to access outer space very quickly! I can see Dash randomly picking up what he thought was a discarded black blanket or something, but the inside has an entire galaxy pattern on it and Phantom comes flying out gasping for breath. Before Dash can ask anything, Phantom turns back to the cloak and shouts excitedly “I’M GOING BACK IN!!!” before flying straight into the cloak, disappearing into the cosmos.

Or even better, Sam and Tucker are looking at the cloak laying on the bed and Sam goes “Danny, I know you’re in there. You really need to come out and eat.” and the both of them hear “No!! I live here now!!” from the cloak. They managed to get him out eventually, and now he’s telling them all about it.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #he’s a phantom #ghost king danny #king danny phantom #Prince Danny phantkm #ghost Prince Danny #give Danny a space cloak!#he’ll love it!#dp space obsession #Danny phantom space obsession #danny phantom Sam #Danny phantom tucker

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minnesota-fats · 2 years

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What if Danny was really a clone of Bruce Wayne that his parents accidentally made when they were trying to do something relating to ghosts and unethical experimentation. Maybe got Batman’s dna somehow thinking he was a ghost or maybe fucking grave robbed the Wayne mausoleum and got his dna there and just decided that they would keep him and that the reason Dani was so unstable was not only the ghost dna but also making a clone of a clone is like too fare removed from the source material?

But Imagine Danny trying to find his birth records for a school project or like he needs them for his drivers license and he just straight up cant find them so he goes to Jazz and she cant find them with her stuff so they both go to Jack who starts sweating nervously before he oh-so-cleverly redirected the conversation. (“Dannys birth certificate, well you see—who wants fudge!”) so then they go to Maddie who sighs before holding out her arms to hug Danny. Saying something like, “Before I tell you two I want you both to know that I love both of you no matter what and that this has not effected how I love you in the slightest.” And danny, thinking like a normal human being is like, “am… am I adopted?” And Maddie smiles and says, “oh goodness no, of course not.” And Danny sighs in relief before Maddie can say, “your father and I cloned you in the basement!” Danny stares at her waiting for her to say it was a joke before saying “you know how thats not better, right?” And Jazz blows up cuz you cant just drop a bombshell like that without prefacing it!

Bonus:

Tucker writing a joke article mimicking the “Does Bruno Mars is Gay?” Article and was going to delete it but some bitch ass ghost (probably Technis) finds it and posts it and thus danny being put on Bruces radar causing a chain of event that I can not predict right now.

I want peoples opinions on this and if any of y’all use this please tell me! I wanna read it!

#dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #crossover #danny is bruce Wayne’s clone #wow #fun #:3 #joke #crack fic #bruce wayne #danny fenton #danny phantom #family #fic prompt #minne try’s

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too-much-tma-stuff · 10 months

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I Don’t Believe You Care

Y’all are my beta readers XD if you see any errors please let me know. I’m going to post this on AO3 later.

Part one here

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The scolding that Bruce gave Damian was the gentlest either of them had ever received, but it did cow Damian enough that he behaved while meeting Cass and Stephanie. It helped that they were sweet, Stephanie was a bit energetic and overwhelming but Cass was quiet and seemed to understand them better. She helped reign in the over-enthusiastic family friend and Danny was glad to have her as a sister. She didn’t speak much, she communicated in signs that he didn’t understand but he thought that he could learn in time, and he wanted to. When he told her so she smiled and Steph squealed, insisting loudly and brightly that they would be happy to teach him!

He couldn’t help but feel relieved that when Alfred asked Stephanie if she would be staying for dinner she joked that she should actually spend some time at home for once. It seemed like she didn’t live here, though they knew of her identity as Spoiler and her involvement with the bats, all her noise and movement wouldn’t be a consistent presence around the house. Not that Danny didn’t like her! He just thought he’d like her best in relatively small doses before she could overwhelm him.

He would ask Cass to teach him when Steph wasn’t here, it might be just slightly trickier, but he could use the excuse of letting the two friends spend the time they had together. And maybe Tim could help him practice? He must know how to communicate with his sibling after all, and Danny could already tell he and Tim were going to get along.

He was even more glad that Steph had gone when Dick arrived because as the man came barrelling in like a hurricane Danny didn’t want to think of how much chaos and noise they would be together! For all his practice in social graces they really should have prepared him for this chaos, crowds, and friendly contact. But the compound had been short sighted and ill prepared in such regards.

Dick was the worst, Danny was almost jealous of Damian who could snarl and squirm and draw a knife on the man when Dick tried to hug him. Danny put on a smile and forced a laugh and pretended that his instinctual reaction to being held like this didn’t make him want to bite and rend. He knew that Dick meant well, or at least he thought so, the man was honestly famously good natured and cared for his family. Danny wanted to be on his good side, and couldn’t bring himself to actually say he didn’t want to be touched, or at least wasn’t used to it. The sudden, quick, and broad movements Dick favoured with his dramatics made Danny want to flinch though he had better self control then that!

He dodged hugs as gracefully as he could for the rest of the night and managed to sit him and Damian between Bruce and Tim for dinner, with Danny sitting next to Tim of course. The food was good, and everyone in the family was very welcoming, but by the end of it Danny was exhausted.

He was good at this sort of thing, trained to charm, and redirect apparently effortlessly, but the thing was it wasn’t effortless, and these sorts of situations were harder to simulate then battle. Danny had done a good job, he could tell that he had them charmed, and had them warming up to Damian too actually, but he also knew that he was drooping. He should hide his fatigue, but he was still human, he yawned.

“You’ve had a long day young masters,” Alfred said, instantly picking up on the mood, he was an impressive man and they both knew it. “Now that you’ve eaten why don’t you go settle in your rooms and get some rest? I took the liberty of going to buy you some pajamas and basics that should fit the two of you. I’m sure Master Bruce will be happy to take you both out to buy clothes more suited to your taste tomorrow,” he added.

“I think that’s a good idea, don’t you Damian,” Danny asked, glancing over at his brother.

“I’m not tired,” Damian harrumphed, of course he wouldn’t admit defeat. “But I would like to see where we will be staying,” He added. No doubt he’d thoroughly check security and for any potential surveillance before he slept. Danny wasn’t going to bother.

“Very good young Masters,” Alfred said with a nod, pausing to look back at Dick. “Will you be staying the night as well?” He asked the older man, who gave a rueful smile and shook his head.

“I’m needed in Bludhaven, I was able to come for the day on such short notice but I couldn’t get more time off. I’ll schedule a proper vacation as soon as possible so I can come back and visit!” He said giving Danyal and Damian an encouraging smile, and Danny did a good job of looking disappointed that Dick was leaving even though he was glad to have some time to get his feet under him before more of the family would be under the same roof once more. Maybe he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought about dodging Dick’s affection though, because he didn’t try to hug either of the boys goodbye.

He bid their siblings farewell and followed Alfred up to his bedroom, seeing Damian into his first and then going into his own. He was quick to brush his teeth and change into the comfortable, soft pajamas they’d been bought which did fit perfectly. Unfortunately when he flopped down into bed, regardless of how exhausted he was, he couldn’t sleep. He kept replaying the events of the day, how he did, how he could have done better, what he had learned about the family and what it meant.

After maybe an hour once things had gone quiet on the other side of the wall and he thought Damian was asleep Danny sighed and got up. He opened his window and climbed out, he braced his feet on the sill and shoved off, jumping unnaturally high for a human to grab on the edge of the roof and drag himself up onto it. He scrambled up gracefully and silently, finding a comfortable place to lay, looking up at the sky. He stayed there, zoning out for a while before he heard a soft thump on the roof near him.

“How did you get up here?” Bruce asked, dressed as Batman this time, Danny glanced over and gave him a small smile.

“You can’t really see the stars here,” he said, looking back up at the sky. “I won’t miss much about the compound, but I’ll miss the stars.”

“Not settling in particularly well?” Batman asked, sitting down on the ridge of the roof, a respectable distance between them.

“Oh I’ll be alright,” Danny said with a shrug. “They always raised me to be your heir after all, Damian will have more trouble than me. Want some advice?”

“Hm,” Batman said, an affirmative sound.

“Take him to a zoo, buy him art supplies. He’ll deny he cares about such things, but I know him better then anyone and he does. Once he realizes he really can be himself out here, that’ll help start undoing the brainwashing.”

“How are you so insightful about the situation? You can’t have avoided the brain washing.” Batman asked, and Danny shrugged. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Danny asked, glancing over just for a moment.

“How do I bond with you?” Bruce asked, and Danny laughed.

“You don’t have to. I don’t need to be won over or convinced. Our grandfather is a violent fool who only cares for himself, teaching me to recognize manipulation showed me what he really was years ago. If you turned me away entirely I still wouldn’t go back to the league.” He said with a wry smile.

“Hm,” Batman sounded unimpressed. “You’re still my son. I’d like to bond with you?”

Danny sighed, not sure why Batman was being stubborn when his energy was best spent elsewhere. He sat up and looked over at Batman, tilting his head slightly. “I don’t need you,” He said somewhat bluntly. “Damian does, give him your focus. If you truly want you can buy me an instrument, and books on astronomy.”

Batman nodded thoughtfully and Danny lay back down, there was a few moments of quiet between them before B spoke up again. “How did you get up here?” He asked again and Danny sighed.

“I guess you have to know eventually,” He murmured. “Part of the reason we’re both here is because Grandfather couldn’t decide who he wanted to be his heir, it was always supposed to be Damian but something happened and suddenly I was a much more attractive choice.”

“What happened?” B prompted after a moment.

“You know about the Pits? Most people dunked in it come back less, in the mind usually, sometimes less human, feral and monstrous. But rarely, once in the blue moon, someone comes back more.” Danny glanced over at Batman, and when he blinked he let his eyes flash green, glowing with the vile waters the kept Ra’s limping along. He could have explained more about the ways that he was different now, but he didn’t want to let on more then he had to at this point. He wasn’t naive enough to trust Bruce just because they shared blood, so he simply said; “I came back More, and I mean, I’m still a trained assassin, I probably could still have gotten up here even if I hadn’t.”

“But seemingly being chosen by Lazarus made me seem like a better option to grandfather, and your… complicated feelings towards empowered people is well known. So they didn’t know if you’d like me anymore.” His eyes faded back to blue and he looked up at the sky again, he couldn’t read Bruce’s expression under the cowl anyway. “It took a lot of subtle work to convince them to send us both so you could ‘decide which of us you wanted’.”

“Do you expect me to choose one of you?” Bruce asked, unreadable as ever.

“No, not really, you clearly like having many children. Damian still thinks now that you have a biological heir you’ll turn your adopted children away, but that’s grandfather talking and he’s a fool. If you do choose one then choose Damian, I’ll be fine on my own but he needs the help navigating this world. He’s strong, he’s clever, he’s more observant than me, he’ll make a good detective. He’ll be more loyal than me once you win him over too. He’ll be harder to break of the bad habits, I’ve never been as good at killing as him, but once he learns the way you do things I think he’ll be a good Robin.” Danny said, pulling up his knees and wrapping his arms around them, it was a bit chilly on the roof.

Batman hummed and nodded, which was good, if he had continued to push Danny would have had to bring up Jason. He knew that Jason was alive of course, but Bruce didn’t and Danyal would say he was more likely to end up like Jason if he had to but that was a last resort.

“Well I want you to know that both of you are very welcome here. And neither of you have to be Robin, or anything that you don’t want to be. I’ll support you in whatever you want to do, and you being a meta doesn’t change that at all. Both of you have a home here,” Bruce assured.

Danny nodded and gave Bruce a smile before standing up and smiling. “That’s good to hear,” He said, while not believing it at all. Bruce couldn’t and shouldn’t offer such unconditional support after just meeting them. “I should get back inside, it’s getting cold, and I am tired,” He said, wandering over the edge of the roof and stepping off, twisting around to grab the edge and swung off and back through the window before closing the window and brushing himself off so he wouldn’t get to much dirt in his sheets before crawling into bed.

He wasn’t fully asleep before the door to his room opened just enough for Damian to slip inside, he wasn’t surprised, Damian and he weren’t as independent from each other as they acted like they were. “You should have locked your door and blocked it somehow. We cannot trust the mongrels Father has taken in,” he hissed at Danny.

“Damian, shut up and get over here,” Danny mumbled sleepily, not bothering to open his eyes as he lifted the blankets on the other side of the bed. He heard a scoff and waited as Damian did whatever he needed to to feel like the room was secure and then came over to slide into bed next to Danny. Danny held out his arm, they didn’t exactly cuddle even when like this, but Damian liked to hold Danny’s wrist and feel his pulse. He had done it when they were younger but he had stopped for a while, it had only started up again after he had watched Danny die, it was understandable.

Damian wrapped one hand around Danny’s wrist, seeking out his pulse and tucked the other arm under his pillow, no doubt stashing a knife there. “None of them are going to hurt us Dami. They’re used to having multiple siblings, they probably compete, but other then one notable exception we’ve never heard of any of them trying to kill each other have we?”

“You don’t know that, Father’s has never had a biological child before, they must recognize we’re more of a threat then the others,” Damian argued in hushed tones.

“They won’t, we haven’t even proven ourselves yet. We could be incompetent.”

“We’re not!” Damian objected, his voice raising just a little and Danny hushed him softly.

“No, we’re not, but they don’t know that. I would suggest we keep out heads down for at least a month, we learned what we could about them from a distance but we should observe them. We’ve never been out of the compound except on missions, we have a lot to learn and whoever does end up his heir will have to be able to pretend to be normal. I intend to take Tim up on the lessons on popular media, perhaps it isn’t practical, but what about when we inevitably have to interact with people our own age at parties? What about interviews?

“We don’t want to reflect badly on father and if we don’t know Anything about such thing, or have any hobbies, or anything of the sort people will assume he treats us poorly.” Danny murmured and Damian harumphed, even without opening his eyes Danny could tell Damian was gritting his teeth.

“Why should we care what the uncultured masses think?” He hissed furiously and Danny cracked a small smile.

“Because father does. As the Bat his reputation is half of his weapon, and his identity as Bruce Wayne is carefully crafted to both divert suspicion from him being Batman and to make people like him. Father understands well how ones image is a tool, and being a good father is part of his image as Bruce Wayne, we will have to play into it if we want to succeed.” Danyal explained as gently as he could, he didn’t believe all of what he was saying really, or at least the way that he was framing it. He was framing it in the way he thought was best to make Damian start giving the outside world a chance, and hoping that when he did give it a chance he would find he liked it.

It was quiet for a long time which was good, it meant that Damian was properly considering what Danny had to say. He was nearly asleep before Damian spoke again, rousing Danny from his half doze. “Alright, knowing these ‘siblings’ patterns would help, and I can concede the point on the importance of reputation,” He said stiffly.

Danyal had to suppress a smile at his brother’s tone. “Good. And try to remember that unlike Mother and Grandfather batman has a rule against killing. Anything you do you must make sure it is never tracked back to us, especially because he’s not going to suddenly stop caring about them because we share his blood. If he finds out we hurt one of them it would absolutely ruin our chances, or be a huge set back at the very least,�� He added, again trying to gently steer his brother in the direction he wanted. He was being manipulative, but it was the way he knew that worked.

“Father should know better then to develop such misplaced attachments,” Damian grumbled but then after a moment of silence he sighed and nodded. “All of our missions have had to be done in secret anyway, with time and planning we’ll manage.”

Well, it had bought them time and that had been Danyal’s goal so he nodded as well. “Good, now sleep Ahki, we’ve both had a long day and I’m tired.”

Damian let out a soft hum and that was all, he kept hold of Danny’s wrist even as he fell asleep, as he always did. Danny liked it too, the physical reminder that Damian was there, that they were safely together. He didn’t think that either of them would have to sneak out before dawn to make sure they weren’t caught and punished for such childish behaviour, he truly felt like they could rest.

Part three

#Danyal al ghul #damien wayne #bruce wayne #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #alfred pennyworth #danny phantom #dc #dc x dp #demon twins #twins AU #the league of assassins #batman #implied child abuse #this is a more introspective chapter #lots of talking

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aceviscontiswife · 10 months

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Killers catching you crying/upset

I’ve been wanting to do some comfort type stuff for a while, so this is what my poll was for! Hope y’all enjoy!

Gn! Reader. Pre established relationship! Killers included: Danny, Pyramid Head, Wesker.

• Danny is used to seeing people cry from fear. He isn’t one to comfort, if anything, Danny’s the reason someone’s crying in the first place. He’s a murderer, not a therapist.

• However, when Danny catches you crying, it’s a different story. Why? What happened? Who did this? How the actual hell does he help you? Long story short, Danny hates seeing you upset.

• You’ve never seen Danny this concerned, or this confused. It’s clear he has no clue how to comfort you, but he tries his best. He’ll kneel down beside you and stay with you until he was sure you were alright. It was a side of Danny you’ve never seen, but not one you didn’t like.

• If it’s a survivor who’s made you cry; don’t worry, Danny will handle it. Once you’re better, Danny will teach that survivor a lesson they’ll never forget.

You had tried to last the entire trial without breaking down, but eventually you couldn’t hold back your tears any longer. You slumped against a tree, hugged your knees to your chest, and began to sob quietly. Danny was the killer this trial, you could always just find him, but you didn’t want to ruin his trial with your problems. Danny must’ve heard you, for it wasn’t long after you started crying that he kneeled down next to you and quickly removed his mask so you could see his face. “Hey… what’s wrong?” Danny asks in a tone so… soft, so concerned. It was like nothing you’ve ever head from him.

“I… it’s Nea…” You answer as more tears well up in your red, puffy eyes. Danny nods, wiping away your tears and pulling you into a tight hug, mainly so you wouldn’t see the flash of anger in his eyes at the mention of your teammate. “I’ll handle them once you’re better, okay?” You nod, and while you knew Danny was being sincere, you couldn’t help but ask “Are you sure?” To which Danny simply replies, “It’s what boyfriends are for, dollface.”

(I have never wrote for Pyramid Head before so I apologize in advance lol 😅)

• You’re… crying? That’s not something Pyramid Head likes to see, not at all. His first instinct is to make you stop crying, whatever that might take.

• While he can’t speak, Pyramid is good at telling you things through his body language. He’ll set his weapon aside and open his arms slightly—his way of saying “Come here.”

• He’ll pull you into a bone-crushing hug, his hands awkwardly rubbing your back as you cry against his chest. Pyramid will hold you until you’re done crying, and listen to any word you had to say. For something that spoke in garbled nothingness, Pyramid Head was surprisingly very well at comforting you.

• You’d tell him what had upset you, and if it just so happened to be a survivor, Pyramid Head would leave your side in an instant to go deal with them. He would return covered in blood, set his weapon aside, and allow you to melt in his arms once more.

You were somewhere in the deep, desolate forest of the entity’s realm, tears streaming down your face as you cried. You hadn’t even heard him approaching, startled when Pyramid Head suddenly appears next to you. He had laid his large weapon against a tree, his arms slightly open and waiting for your embrace. You didn’t say anything, you simply took a small step forward and wrapped your arms around him, laying your head on his chest.

Pyramid Head held you for a while, and it was only when your sobs began to lessen did he finally pull away. You knew what he wanted now; Pyramid Head wanted an explanation. “Gabriel was-“ You cut yourself off as Pyramid Head suddenly turned away, grabbed his weapon, and began making his way towards the survivors’ campfire. Was he going to-? Would the entity even allow that?! Either way, once you realized what Pyramid Head was doing, you couldn’t help but smile and wait patiently for his return.

• Unlike most of the killers, Wesker at least knows what he should say to someone who’s upset. Does he? No. Crying is a weakness, and Wesker can’t have that.

• But, much like Danny, Wesker does a complete 180 when he finds you crying. He never wanted to find you like this, and now that he has, he wants nothing more than to bring an end to your tears.

• You never would have guessed Wesker was good at comforting, but he was. He knew exactly what to say, what to do, and had you feeling better again in no time.

• If it’s a survivor who’s made you cry, you best believe Wesker will handle things. He’ll wait until he’s in a trial with them, and once he is, he’ll make sure their time with him is absolutely miserable. Wesker will teach that survivor a lesson, and it’ll work so well they’ll probably never speak to you again; out of fear of what Wesker might do if they hurt you again.

“Dearest, why are you crying?” You heard a familiar voice speak from behind you. You turn around to spot Wesker, staring up at him through teary eyes. “It’s nothing…” You lie, quickly wiping away your tears and sniffling. Wesker obviously didn’t believe you, stepping up next to you and resting his hand on your shoulder. “Don’t lie to me, y/n. What’s upsetting you?” You knew there wasn’t a point in lying again, so you tell Wesker the truth.

“Laurie was being really rude to me in my trials…” You admit, sounding more childish than you had wanted to. Wesker simply hums in response, resting his free hand on your other shoulder and beginning to rub them, easing the tension you had gathered from your earlier trials. “I’ll handle it, sweetheart.” Wesker assures you, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

#dead by daylight #danny johnson #ghostface dbd #ghostface x reader #ghostface x y/n #danny johnson dbd #albert wesker #dbd wesker #wesker x reader #wesker x y/n #albert wesker dbd #pyramid head #executioner dbd #pyramid head dbd #dbd

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redrobinhoodrat · 11 months

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Danny looked around at the beings in front of him. He’d brought his closest allies as well as some trusted friends together for his supposed “council”. He had handpicked these few along with his friends to make sure he had the best guidance in ruling the zone. He needed help now more than ever. Making sure not to look too terrified he met each set of eyes as he glanced around what was practically his round table– no! His justice league. He kept the smirk off his face as he thought of frostbite with Superman’s red underwear getup on.

“Thanks for coming, you guys. Now I’m not going to beat around the bush. What I’m about to talk to you about is going to make you really upset, but!” Danny said nervously. He held up his hands as he gestured for Pandora to wait when her mouth opened to ask a question. ”I just need you to listen first.”

He avoided Clockwork’s gaze as he stood up from his seat. The ancient being was directly across from him so he could see the hint of worry in his expression. The ghost hadn’t been too happy when Danny had requested( i.e. ordered) him to quit monitoring his life so closely. Could you really blame him though?! Who wanted what was basically their grandfather/mentor/local time god watching every aspect of their life? Not him, no sirree. That’s what Jazz was for. It was kind of nice to be worried about though...not that he’d admit it.

He winced at the thought of Clockwork’s overprotective streak. It also made what he was about to say something of a bombshell about to be dropped. He just knew that everyone was going to overreact.

“So,” He fiddled with his hands as he tried to figure out what to say. “Y’all know how I was talking about the GIW makin’ some deals with Mom and Dad and getting better at the whole “Ghost Hunting” schtick?”

He waited to get some type of nod or confirmation from everyone in the room.

“Well, I got caught.” He blurted it out in a rush. He kept his head down as he watched everyone process what he had said, he scratched at the back of his head awkwardly as he thought about what happened. “And-uhh, what they did wasn’t so good.”

He looked up to gauge their reactions. Nocturn didn’t seem phased at all, ever calm as he always was in the zone. Beside him, Frostbite was sitting with his arms crossed, probably the most out of the loop due to how busy he’s been lately, he didn’t seem too worried but he also didn’t seem happy about the development if his tapping claws was any tell. Pandora was on Danny’s right side and most likely in the same boat. He could tell she was bothered by the prospect that he’d been captured and nobody had known though. She was probably the most overprotective outside of Clockwork. Wulf was to his left, looking at him with sad puppy-dog eyes, all too familiar with the feeling of being captured. To Wulf’s left, Dorathea was scanning him over, looking for injuries most likely. Too bad he’d hid everything with the express purpose of making the whole incident look less bad than what it actually was. No sense in exaggerating when it sounded bad no matter how you put it. Beside Dorathea, Ghostwriter’s eyes were wide as he transcribed everything about the meeting, his fingers slowing as he registered what Danny had said. He probably knew just how evil humans could be from his books. Danny made sure not to meet his eyes as Ghostwriter looked up. He didn’t want to see the worry that was easily read on the ghost’s expressive face. He figured everyone’s reactions were pretty predictable based on their knowledge of humans.

Finally, he looked over to meet Clockwork’s knowing gaze. He winced as he saw the red eyes flare briefly as Clockwork clenched his hands into fists. He watched the hands on the clock-staff start spinning rapidly and could only hope they didn’t actually do anything– ancients forbid just letting him know he was caught causes time to collapse or something.

He sighed as he prepared to explain what happened, hopefully in some way that didn’t lead to an all out war.

“-you know, I’m a human, or at least I was before I died and stuff. I never thought I’d be the one to have to declare war on Earth.”

“Then why even do it?” Batman growled.

He was standing towards the front of the group, though Superman had managed to edge in front of him just a little. From the way the Entity in front of them was floating regally he couldn’t get a good enough read on him to call the bluff and take the main front from Superman. Never let it be said that he hadn’t learnt to rely on his allies.

He was grateful his cowl hid his eyes as he subtly watched the rest of the league around him. Everyone was at attention, either looking at him or the stranger in the room.

The being in front of them had just appeared. Not even bothering with some type of warning before a glowing green portal had opened up in the Watchtower’s meeting room. As the main league members had gotten into battle formation a figure had stepped out, almost melting out of it as the– slime? matter?–clung to them when they exited, ducking through the circle as it closed behind them. The JL were all surprised to see the figure looked like a boy when they stood up fully. Their attire and coloring made it clear they weren’t from earth though. The snow white hair contrasted sharply against the mint-green tinted skin the figure had. Their hair seemed to be hazy, almost flaming but not quite. They had on a partial set of armor, made more for movement than all out protection. The matte black metal was inlaid with specks of silver,emulating stars in the night sky. It was layered over what looked like a futuristic hazmat suit.

Now that he’d had the thought Batman would say the whole thing was futuristic. Silver and black with white accents here and there. The shoulder pauldrons had a cloak hung from them, a pitch black thing that seemed to suck in the light around it and make the being stand out even more in sharp contrast to it. A cylindrical container hung at his side and in his hands was a bo-staff that looked just as futuristic as his suit. Neon green accents twisted around the silver staff from top to bottom. With eyes that glowed the same green as the portal the figure was impressive at first glance, then you looked a little longer–took a second look and realized they looked younger than most of the proteges. Younger than Damian and Jon even.

So forgive Batman for not taking him as seriously as he probably should have. He wasn’t outright dismissing him as a threat, he had several kids that got the best of him almost every day so he knew a thing or two about overpowered kids, but he didn’t believe the being was malicious. More on the nervous side in all honesty, maybe looking for help?

Then the kid had looked Superman in the eyes and said that unless certain demands were met his subjects would march on Earth and eradicate everything they deem to be a threat. He had then rambled on about useless information until Batman had cut him off. His attention snapped back from analyzing the encounter so far as the kid finally seemed ready to answer. Now that he looked closer he could tell the regal act was just that– an act put on to intimidate them.

“My realm is made up of beings from all over the universe, the dead and the neverborn, deities that have passed and lingered, beings that crave rest or resolution. I will not hold any one race, society, or planet in a higher regard simply because of my bias.” Danny said, keeping his voice as level as he could. He needed these heroes to listen to him, damnit! He couldn’t let his nerves get the best of him here. “I may be emperor of the Realms but I have a council that I hold in high regard. We have met and the judgment has been made. Should the governments of Earth not meet our demands, we will take action.”

Batman watched as the league seemed to swell before him, members reacting to the hidden threat but not willing to speak up. They knew better than to antagonize unknowns. He leaned around Superman who had continued to slowly creep more in front of him. The young boy seemed to be trying not to fidget as he held himself up in an obviously practiced position. Slightly elevated with his hands on his hips and head tilted up, forcing himself to meet the eyes of the adults across from him. Batman watched the kid swallow nervously and felt his resolve to hold his judgment give a little. Just as he was about to speak he saw Constantine move forward a bit. Just enough to get attention but not enough to get near the boy. He lowered his calculation of this getting resolved peacefully from the high seventies down to the low fifties. He tried not to sigh, of all the days for Constantine to have been in the meeting, why today?

“Realms? When you mean realms are we talking like, a different dimension or like, a different world?” He asked, his tone not leaving any doubt as to which was worse. Constantine was practically chewing his unlit cigarette as he gazed ahead, arms crossed and shoulders tense. “Cause that affects whether I need to be here or not. Also, when you said you were human, what did you mean? Did you sell your soul or something? You’re looking a little demonic there mate, and I can’t think of anything that would cause a transformation that big unless you messed with a big bad that shouldn’t have been messed with.”

Batman watched as the kid’s face scrunched up, a fairly normal response from a kid that’d been insulted but on this one’s face it certainly did look a little…demonish. Then again, people probably think his kids are demons too, especially the current Robin who has affectionately been called stabby. He tried not to shake his head as he turned his thoughts back to the boy, he needed to stop relating him back to his kids if he wanted to be objective. He could see why the JLD member was worried though, if the kid resembled something as horrifying as a baby demon.

“Well at least my soul doesn’t look like a paper mache project, dipshit.” Danny huffed. Crossing his arms as he settled himself down on the floor. The trenchcoat guy jerked like he’d slapped him, probably not expecting him to see that tattered old soul he had. Honestly he’d feel sorry for the guy in a different situation but he was tired of adults not fucking listening. People were going to get hurt if they didn’t listen. He blew out a breath to calm down, feeling the familiar burn of anxiety in his chest.

“Listen, I’ll be straight with you guys.” He said, giving up any pretense of formality. “Some type of government funded organization is capturing and experimenting on citizens of both our realms. In fact, I can pick out a couple of you guys that they’d probably love to get their hands on!” He started pacing as he looked at the group of superheroes. He felt his emotions getting the best of him as he took in the wary gazes that were settled on him. Not to mention the condescending gaze of the only normal looking human in the room. He didn’t even know that one! Isn’t the justice league all famous heroes?

“I’m sick of adults not listening to me! I’ve been trying to do this all by myself and I can’t! I just can’t!” He shouted, and grabbed his hair out of frustration as he finally stopped and faced them again. “I was one of them. They caught me and I barely got out. They’re too dangerous for me to face alone anymore and their weapons are designed to fight my kind, my people specifically. If I give them permission to fight back then the world won’t make it. Having my people fight is like lighting a fire, they’re dangerous and uncontrolled, when they start they’re not going to be stopped.” He paused to think of what releasing the denizens of the Ghost Zone on earth could accomplish.

An infinite number of ghosts of an infinite number of species with an infinite number of powers.

More numbers added to the ranks as more lives were lost.

An army that never ended.

He gulped.

“We’d win but life on Earth would be FUBARed, literally, and I don’t want that. My family still lives here, my friends. No one will have a chance.” He looked straight into the first pair of eyes he could –Batman– and hoped that the truth was plain on his face. “You guys are my only hope. Please.”

Notes: So I lost a lot of interest in this draft and probably won’t continue it. If anybody wants to feel free! If you want the tiny ideas that were thought up with it just shoot me a message.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #batfam #batman #dp x dc #justice league

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restinslices · 6 months

Text

Teen Wolf Opinions

Teen Wolf opinions but I don’t explain anything

Season 3 is the best season of the show. I don’t just mean 3B, I mean both parts of the season.

Scott and Stiles’ miscommunication trope in season 5 was dumb as shit and makes Scott look like a bad friend

Erica, Boyd and Isaac deserved a lot better. Both in the sense that they needed therapy but also they were wasted

Kira’s story was also wasted and having a movie where the Nogitsune and Oni come back (a story she was a big part of in the show) but not having Kira there is weird. Yes I know about the controversy. Y’all shoulda paid Arden her money.

Stydia was done terribly. Idk what Jeff was thinking. Why wait that long?

Season 3 had the best fight scenes because it was obvious who outranked who

Allison did not care about Isaac. He was a replacement. That was all.

Lydia was weird to still fuck around with Aiden knowing his folks were actively hunting her friends

The debate on whether Allison or Kira is better is weird to me. I promise you can like them both

I love Derek but him going around and biting teenagers with shitty lives was shitty

Parish and Lydia should not have been a ship

Teen Wolf is corny and cheesy as shit, but that’s ok. It’s part of the charm.

Them bringing back Kate and Gerard isn’t something I felt was necessary. I would’ve preferred new villains.

Cora and Isaac should’ve came back for season 6

Speaking of Cora, her and Stiles could’ve been a good couple

It would make sense if everyone in the town knew about the supernatural but just minded their business. That hospital, sheriff station and school always got bullshit going on and you mean to tell me no one noticed besides Danny? Don’t lie to me.

My eyes hurt so imma end it here. Maybe I’ll make more or explain some of these later.

#teen wolf #teen wolf opinions #Teen wolf fandom #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #kira yukimura #allison argent #lydia martin #stydia #cora hale #derek hale #isaac lahey

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star-girl69 · 2 months

Note

“FUCK THE OTHER KIDS I ONLY CARE ABOUT OURS”

Danny better be included in that context. I want to see the two interact with one another. I feel like they would get along and just be little Clarisse’s around camp terrorizing everyone. And Clarisse is standing in the side being a proud mama 😂😊

WE’RE SO BACK

danny and ivy are about the same age in my little version of a canon universe so they would call themselves twins. i never really defined either of the features i don’t think but for me personally i think of ivy as this feisty little blonde with a fuckass bob she pulls off SO well, constantly wearing pink and flowers just to turn around and destroy someone

and then danny i imagine him to be like a young josh hutcherson (bridge to terabithia era, maybe a bit younger) except w more prominent freckles and a bit darker hair

so anyways.

they don’t look alike at all so that’s what is so fucking hilarious about it but they’re like “we’re twins!!! best friends!!! brother and sister!!!”

that’s genuinely how they introduce themselves to everyone and then everyone is like???

also percy is so fucking terrified good god hes losing his shit THERES THREE OF THEM NOW????? he’s like “we need to BAN clarisse and y/n from adopting more children”

(as if clarisse would listen to percy 🙄🙄🙄)

so basically danny and ivy would be attached at the hip. like they have twin telepathy fr and ut pisses everyone off

when they’re separated (god forbid you’re split up onto different teams) (they’re not afraid to kick and scream and cry) (chiron would PERSONALLY make sure they are not split up again bc genuinely just no one wants to deal w them SCREECHING)

ivy is a daddy’s girl (aka clarisse)

danny is a mama’s boy (aka y/n)

danny and ivy are kinda like the polar opposites of each other i mean don’t get me wrong is danny absolutely lethal with a weapon? yes obviously and he tries so hard to be like his half-siblings and love battle and war and all that stuff but he just doesn’t get the same joy out of it

clarisse doesn’t really care, she comforts danny as best as she can and tells him he doesn’t have to love it as long as he can protect himself so she has some piece of mind, she’s kinda confused as to why danny’s is technically ares’ kid but also like that’s her kid…. so she really don’t care

besides clarisse has someone else to impass all her wisdom onto

the hurricane that is ivy.

she definitely wasn’t born with that natural effortlessness that danny and clarisse have, but she works 10x as hard and absolutely loves the feeling of a sword in her hand she has the PASSION and that is much more important than natural ability tbh

anyways. every once in a while y’all will have sleepovers and you barely fit it’s hilarious… pretending that camp counselors once again have a room at the back with a slightly bigger bed

clarisse is in the middle, you’re on one side, danny on the other, and ivy is fully spread out sideways on top of y’all

ivy and danny are just walking around camp like they own it bc they do, clarisse is scary and will get them whatever they want bc the twins will flash puppy eyes at you who will then flash puppy eyes at clarisse and then she’s helpless 🤷‍♀️

anyways. that’s all i got for now love y’all love this little family 😘🫶

#addie answers stuff!!!#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse and ivy and y/n: the perfect family #and danny!!!

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jrvanfleet · 7 months

Text

Can’t Shut Me Off

NSFW 18+ MINORS, DNI

pairing: danny x f. reader

content warning: language, unprotected sex (wrap yo willy before you get silly!), steamy shower sex, DOM DANNY (y’all better be clutching your pearls fr!), handcuffs, praise kink, probably like other stuff but I can’t remember lol

word count: 3.4k

summary: danny is back from tour and you simply can’t get enough of each other…

(This is also highly unedited because… fuck it we ball)

——————

The water was warm against your skin. Too warm. You still felt overheated and your knees were shaky as the rush of water cascaded over your body. Turning it colder, you let the water wash over your face and hair. It felt nice. The sweat that clung to your skin washing down the drain. When your limbs finally stopped trembling, you reached for your shampoo, coating your hair and massaging the soap into your scalp.

Your boyfriend, Danny, had gotten back from touring a few days earlier and to say he missed you was an understatement. You had done everything together. Making up for lost time. You loved having him home, filling the house with music, conversation, and warmth. You definitely made up for lost time in the bedroom too which was the reason your knees were still a bit weak.

You had detangled yourself from him only minutes before, kissing his sweaty neck and telling him that you were headed to the shower. He had nodded and had lifted his head up to kiss you before flopping back down onto the bed, his breathing still heavy. It was a sight committed to memory: him sprawled out on your shared bed, lost in the sweet afterglow of his own pleasure.

You raked your fingers through your hair, closing your eyes as the water washed over your face. Faintly, you heard the glass shower door open behind you. A strong set of hands found your hips as you wiped the excess water from your eyes.

He stepped in closer, lining his front with your back, and hissed when the water began to fall on him.

“Why is it so cold?” he mumbled dramatically, setting his chin on your shoulder and reaching around you to turn the water temperature back up. With his arms wrapped around you, you could feel the tickle of his hair on your neck while he used the opportunity to draw you closer to him.

You smiled in his hold. Danny always liked the water scorching hot. Nearly every time you showered together, he would complain about being too cold and insist on turning it up until your skin was pink from the heat.

As the temperature started to rise again, Danny’s hands bracketed on your hips, his thumbs rubbing soft circles over your lower back. He hummed in satisfaction, pulling you flush to his body and shivering dramatically.

“Much better.” He grinned against your neck as you rolled your eyes playfully.

You could feel yourself sink into him as you both stood there under the spray. His body never left you, he simply reached around you again to grab the soap before lathering up. You went back to washing the shampoo out of your hair, turning around to face your boyfriend. Tipping your head rinse the last suds from your head, you cracked your eyes open to see Danny gazing softly at you. His hazel eyes were warm and inviting, beckoning you to reach for his face and graze your fingers over his cheek.

He smiled as your fingers danced lightly against his skin. You dragged them from his face, down the column of his throat, and onto his chest, making small lines through the lather of soap.

You could see where you were affecting him, his cock twitched slightly and the muscles of his stomach flexed as your fingers wandered. You couldn’t help but focus your touch on his happy trail, watching as he sucked in a breath and let it out in a quiet shudder. His body always left you in awe. His muscles were both toned and sturdy, yet soft and comforting while you were in his arms.

You could still feel the soreness between your legs from your roll around in the sheets earlier, but looking at him in all his glory, dripping with water, your blood began to heat from more than just the water’s temperature.

He raised an eyebrow, following your heated gaze.

“Now here I am, thinking that I was crazy for wanting to jump your bones at every minute of the day.”

You chuckled as you stood up on your tiptoes and placed a taunting kiss on his mouth.

“Just keeping you honest about that stamina you always boast about.”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” his breath visibly catching, “you can’t shut me off.”

Like a rubber band snapping, the tension between your heated gaze broke as his lips crashed into yours, hands kneading your hips and waist as he pulled you into him. A moan escaped your mouth as he pushed you up against the cold tile of the shower. His arms held you tight despite your shiver. With your back against the smooth tiles, he reached down to pull your knee over his hip, creating a delicious pressure.

His breath was heavy in your ear pairing nicely with the soft sound of water hitting the shower floor and creating an oasis of pleasure. Your own little bubble of bliss.

“Danny,” you gasped as he grinded into you. Your fingers dug into his biceps as he lined himself up with the hand that wasn’t holding your knee against him.

“Yeah baby, you’re doing so well.”

Your legs wobbled at his words and at the feeling of fullness as he slowly pushed into you. Unholy sounds left your mouth as he seated himself fully and then began to move. You didn’t need any more prep, you were already wet from the shower and from your last round, making your boyfriend’s movements fluid and perfect.

“Talk to me baby. Tell me how good you feel,” Danny rasped into your ear.

If it wasn’t for him pinning you to the wall, you would have slid to the floor. His words and the pleasure that coursed through your veins making it nearly impossible to do anything but bask in the feeling.

“I– I–”

“I– I–” he mocked. “Use your words, love.” He punctuated his teasing with a particularly hard thrust, shifting your leg higher on his waist in order to angle himself deeper.

“It feels– feels so good.” you fought the words out, each consonant a battle against losing all thought and sanity completely.

“You take me so well,” he said, his voice strained. “Keep taking me, just like that beautiful.”

You moaned at his words, arching your back and pushing your chest towards him, moving your hands from his shoulders up to the base of his neck, tangling in the mass of his wet hair. You gripped the strands at the base, making him hiss and push into you even harder.

Your breathing heaved as your eyes squeezed shut and you threw your head back… a little too hard. But instead of your head connecting with tile, the crown of your head pushed into Danny’s hand, always hyper aware of your movements, even in the haze of his building pleasure.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” he scolded. “Now look at me,” His demand forced your eyes to open. “Look at how well you take me.”

Your gaze drifted to where he was connected to you, the rivulets of water still trailing in glistening streams down his chest from the shower head making you want to cum from just the sight alone. He slowed his movements, deliberately pulling out almost to the tip before sliding back into your waiting heat. When he was fully inside he paused just for a blissfully infuriating second before dragging himself back out again. He brought his free hand between your bodies and you watched with rapt attention as he brought his calloused thumb to your clit, rubbing slow but hard circles into your already oversensitive flesh.

You groaned and clenched tightly around him, making him groan and grip at your leg harder. It was getting more difficult to keep your steady stream of moans at bay, not that your boyfriend wanted you to. If he had his way, he’d have you screaming for everyone to hear.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you tried to force the words out between your high-pitched moaning.

“Dan– Danny. Ohh–” you panted, Danny’s thrusts had picked up pace in time with the determined circles on your clit. “Baby, I’m cl– close.” You were shaking like a leaf, every muscle in your body on high alert, ready to snap.

“Not yet, love.” Danny said, his eyes trained on where he thrusted into you, fully focused on his task. “If you’re going to make me work on my stamina, you’re gonna have to work on yours too.”

“But– I can’t–” your voice was whiny and desperate.

“I said hold it.”

There was no room for argument in Danny’s voice. His tone had the opposite effect of his demand. You fought with everything in you to not cum from his voice alone.

Danny sensed your struggle not to fall over the edge of pleasure and stopped his movements before pulling out of you completely. You groaned in disappointment, robbed of your orgasm mere seconds before it crashed over you. His thumb still moved on your clit, but much lighter than before. You cracked open your eyes, your breath still heaving and looked up at your boyfriend’s face. There was no playfulness on the surface of his expression, only that stern exterior he got when he took control.

“Turn around.” His tone was dark and it made your stomach drop, with dread or excitement, you couldn’t tell. Maybe both.

He set down your leg but still kept his hands on your hips in case your legs couldn’t hold you. You were shaky, that was a fact, but you managed to turn around so that your back was to him. Your breath still hadn’t settled and your heartbeat pounded as Danny crowded you into the wall, the stark chill of the tile against the hot skin of your breasts made you whimper.

“You don’t cum until I say so. Do you understand me?” He said into your ear, his hair tickling your bare back.

You nodded feebly, shaking more than you had moments ago.

“I said,” one of his hands smoothed over your ass, kneading it before giving it a firm smack. “Do you understand me?” You yelped at the sharp crack of his hand connecting with your wet flesh and the heat in your core that it brought on.

“I understand,” you stuttered out a moment before his palm came down on your ass again. He stopped his hand and instead rubbed over the hurt with a loving kiss to your cheek.

“That’s my good girl, always listening so well.”

You didn’t think you could be more turned on. You felt like you could burst into flames at any moment. Danny wasn’t unaffected either. You knew he got turned on when he was in control and from the way that his free hand pumped himself with a deathly tight grip behind you, you could tell that he would have to work to keep his orgasm at bay too.

“You ready?” He asked softly, his breath ragged as he dragged his cock over your ass in a taunting stroke.

“Give it to me baby. I want it so bad,” you whined, knowing your desperate pleas would be just the thing to set him off.

Just as you thought, he wasted no time, lining himself up and pushing himself all the way to the hilt. Hard. You cried out, the burning feeling returning to your core as he pulled your hips back onto him with each deliberate thrust.

“Oh god Danny,” you moaned, “feels so good.” Your forearms were pressed against the shower wall, your fists searching for anything to hold onto but finding nothing.

“What feels good, beautiful?” he asked, his question punctuated by a moan as you fought the orgasm from ripping through you before getting his blessing.

“You–You’re so big.”

“What else?” Danny always went fishing for compliments when he was this far gone. It was a good thing that inflating his ego was one of your favorite things to do. The more you complimented him, the harder he came.

You wanted him to see stars.

“You’re so hard, you fuck me so rough. Just how I like it.” Your panting and moaning becoming a seamless song, mixing with your boyfriend’s moans behind you.

You pushed your ass into Danny and clenched particularly hard around him. He moaned so loud that you had half a mind to be embarrassed that your neighbors in the apartment over from yours might hear. You loved when he was loud. He had no inhibitions, only loving you and making you know it.

His hips still crashed into you as he snaked one hand up your front, bringing your back flush to his chest and kneading your breast in time with his movements.

The added stimulation had you fighting back the burning.

“Baby, I need–” you stuttered out.

“No.” His voice was still demanding even though you could tell he was fighting it too. Tears began to brim your eyes and the shaking in your knees returned as your orgasm threatened to crest even against your best efforts.

The wave of pleasure sharply halted for a mere moment at the feeling of Danny’s teeth sinking into the flush of your shoulder. You cried out, the pain only adding to the wildfire of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Danny I can’t hold–” you cried out as your orgasm ripped through you. You had wanted Danny to see stars, but it was you who was cumming so hard that you could barely keep upright. The force of your orgasm immediately triggered Danny to cum, his groans of pleasure mixing with yours as his pace became frantic. He held you tightly to him as you both came down from your collective highs, the strength of his arms the only thing keeping you from sliding to the floor.

You closed your eyes and basked in the afterglow of your pleasure and the safety of being held by Danny.

After a minute of silence to catch your breath, Danny carefully pulled himself out of you with a groan and turned you around to face him, wrapping your limp arms around his neck. You rested your cheek on his shoulder and sighed, content. The shower was still running, covering your overheated skin and washing away the sweat from your bodies. Danny gently reached behind you, turned the shower off, and opened the glass door to grab a towel, leaving you shivering in the absence of him. It didn’t take him long to wrap a towel around his hips and hold up another towel for you to step into. His chest and face were flushed but he smiled softly at you as you stepped back into his familiar embrace, letting him dry you off and gently squeeze out the water in your hair.

Once your body was dried to his liking, he wrapped the towel around you and lifted your chin before kissing you softly.

“Go get in bed, love. I’ll be there in a minute. Just have to fix my hair.”

You chuckled lightly. The thing about Danny is that he never allowed his hair care routine to be disrupted.

You lazily made your way back into the bedroom, dropping the towel on the floor and grabbing one of Danny’s shirts. After pulling it over your head you attempted to straighten the tangle of sheets left on your bed before practically falling under the covers.

Almost half an hour of scrolling on your phone later, you were beginning to get restless. Danny still hadn’t come out of the bathroom and you missed him. You were still sore from how rough he was with you, but images of him pressed against you, sighing deeply plagued your thoughts. You wanted him close. You wanted him still so badly. Sighing, you stretched before rolling out of bed.

Stepping back into the bathroom you found him, scrunching product into his damp curls, the towel still hung low on his hips. He smirked at you in the mirror, raking his eyes over your bare legs and his Church of Rock and Roll t-shirt you had thrown on. He grabbed a microfiber towel and delicately tended to his curls as you came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. You had to raise up on your tiptoes to place your chin on his shoulder as you watched him focus on his task.

“I got lonely,” you whispered to him. “You’re taking too long.”

Danny scoffed playfully. “You can’t rush beauty sweetheart.”

“Come back to bed before I get too cold,” you tempted him, lightly placing kisses on his shoulder and neck. He hummed, his fingers individually setting each stray curl.

“I’ll come to bed when this is finished.”

You rolled your eyes, watching him continue his routine. The two of you stood there in silence for a while, content to be in each other's presence but soon enough though, your fingers began drifting from his waist down his stomach and stroking up and down his happy trail. His breath caught at the light touch, his burning gaze locking with yours in the reflection of the mirror. Your fingers continued to dance around his belly button and down to trace the hem of his towel, teasing him.

“No more tonight,” he says with feigned conviction. You look at him with wide pouty eyes, still placing innocent kisses on his shoulder blade. You were playing every card in the book, your arousal clouding all sensible thought.

“You know how long it takes me to get these curls right. As much as I love your hands in my hair… it’ll mess up the definition.” You could tell that his resolve was waning. He wanted you just as bad as you wanted him.

Slowly he set down the towel and the bottle of product before turning to face you, his back to the sink. You pressed yourself to his chest while he fiddled with the hem of his shirt that you wore. You ran your hands up and down his chest, dragging your fingers through his chest hair.

“I won’t touch your hair, I promise.” You knew it was a lie and he knew it too. He quirked an eyebrow at you as you amended your statement.

“You know… there’s always ways to keep me from touching you,” you tease, going on tiptoe once again to kiss up his neck and whisper in his ear, “Do you still have those handcuffs from tour?”

Danny’s breath caught again, putting the pieces together. The handcuffs were pink and fuzzy, thrown on stage during the last tour. Danny had told you all about how he and the guys had all fought over who got to keep them, but ultimately Danny had won. You still hadn’t had a chance to try them.

You could see the excitement brewing in his eyes as he made his decision.

“My side of the bed. Bottom drawer.” His directions were clear and left no room for argument. You smiled wickedly as he let you go with a short squeeze to your ass, a promise for what was to come.

You rushed back into the bedroom, going to the other side of the bed and rummaging through Danny’s drawer until you found the handcuffs you were looking for.

The excited energy rushed through you, despite the two previous rounds of sex you and Danny had that day, you were more than ready for him.

You sat with your back to the headboard, one hand outstretched with the handcuffs dangling off a finger. Danny stepped out of the bathroom to lean against the doorframe, grinning as he took in the sight of you.

“You know sweetheart, you have a lot to make up for.” His voice was low and dangerous, making you squeeze your thighs together in anticipation as he slowly walked towards the bed. “Since you came before I said you could, I think it’s only fair that you don’t get to stop cumming until I say so.” There was a devilish glint in his eyes and part of you regretted egging him on again so soon after your orgasm.

He slowly crawled onto the bed, throwing his towel to join yours on the floor before grabbing the handcuffs in one hand and your wrists in the other.

“It’s gonna be a long night for you sweetheart.”

—————

Oh heyyyyy thanks for reading this steamy fic!! We have been mad MIA recently and sorry about that but life gets so crazyyy. This is a fic I’ve been slowly writing for like 8 months lmao and I FINALLY finished it so I hope you liked it!!

As always, Love and Light to you!

#greta van fleet #gvf #danny wagner smut #danny wagner fluff #greta van fleet imagine #danny wagner fanfiction #danny gvf smut #daniel wagner #danny gvf #greta van fic #greta van fleet fic #gvf smut #greta van fluff #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam kiszka

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aconflagrationofmyown · 7 months

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Patch It Up Baby

A Sarge and lil Mama fic

Summary: It’s 1977 and Jesse Presley has never loved his family more or had more chances to prove it. When America’s last dynasty implodes, it‘s up to the Presley heir to mend and rebuild what’s left. His first and least glamorous commission is to take his little sister Daisy Mae to rehab in Texas after she embraced their daddy’s rock n’ roll lifestyle a little too thoroughly. In the great game-plan of getting mama and daddy back together, keeping up appearances and bolstering up his siblings’ spirits, what Jesse doesn’t expect is Donna. Just…Donna.

Warnings: mentions of past hard drug use, mentions of withdrawls, a brief but recounted callous comment encouraging death, children dealing with parent’s divorce, publicity of said divorce, paparazzi stalking, a panic attack, Jesse being a bit hardcore like his father to a stalker and mentions of his previous violence, brief sexual scene and occasional mentions of sex.

My thanks to all the dears who helped me so much with this, who added their lines to this and aided in the plot, @prompted-wordsmith @elvisabutler @stylespresleyhearted @ab4eva @butlersxbirdy @eliseinmemphis to mention a wee few

NOTE: In this chapter the baby that is referenced as growing inside Elaine was conceived during Elvis and Elaine’s divorce, and ends up being Danny. Jesse refers to his upcoming sibling as a “last” and “surprise” baby, which he was. However he was neither the last nor the only surprise for Elaine and Elvis. Danny came and a few years later was followed by Shiloh. So uh, that means better times must be around the bend, right? But of course, Jesse wouldn’t know that. ;)

2nd Generation Refresher: as this is out of order and missing many key pieces, I understand it may not make perfect sense yet but I hope y’all enjoy getting a glimpse into the family later on. You’ll meet Elvis and Elaine over the phone and the older kids as they grow into their maturity. Everyone is a bit spread out in their different pursuits in this one compared to the last one shot when it was all young, familial domestic chaos, but there’s little updates in here I think y’all will enjoy. Xoxo

Jesse’s long and ringed forefinger pecks peevishly at the Rehab Center’s grimy rotary dial. He waits for the phone connection to be made with studied nonchalance, leaning casually against the bleach white wall in a tiny alcove, checking like a studied dandy for dirt under his nails. It’s a photogenic sorta lean, one boot crossed over the other and bell bottoms flaring in a way that naturally carries the eye to the belt buckle at his tapered waist.

Daddy taught him well enough how to cut a figure, and daddy was the reason why Jesse had any need to pretend nonchalance when calling home.

Home, he wants to scoff.

Not Graceland while this fiasco lasted.

Graceland was too storied and way too watched. Home was Palm Springs and warm weather and privacy to figure out what the hell the rest of them were gonna do with their lives and if mama and daddy could still make it. Together.

Home, where mama could cook this last little one that precious few in the outside world knew was coming, home where daddy could eat crow and stay sober.

Jesse’s teeth ache from the way he grinds them in his stress, he rubs at his cheek and wills the tenseness away, if he answered with clenched teeth mama would be able to tell. And mama would worry. And mama had done enough worrying to nearly cost her her life.

“Hello?” came through the receiver.

Jesse felt guilty for one brief second at his immense relief that she’d been the one to answer, not daddy, but then a flood of very legitimate grievances against one Elvis Presley came flooding in and he shrugged it off. “Hey mama.” he kept his voice down but he couldn’t help the smile that lifted his tone at just hearing her sound so soft and rested. “How’re you doin’?” he ventured, keeping an eye at the nurses and patients passing nearby, always aware of potential eavesdroppers.

“I’m good baby, I’m real good, how’re you holdin’ up?”

Jesse listens for any trace of a fib in her tone but for once she doesn’t sound strained when she says she’s good. He’ll take it that physically she must be finally good for the first time this whole pregnancy. “Thas good.” he whispers, cupping the receiver closer, “He takin’ care of you, mama? He’s being gentle a-and he’s -he bein’ respectful?”

Of her space and her nerves and her whole taken for granted self. He’s picked a cuticle till it’s bleeding on him, wincing he sticks it into his mouth, full lips curling around it, something his mama gave him in a face strikingly similar to his father’s. The scowl he sends at a lurking relation of some inmate in this druggie bedlam is entirely his father’s and he’s grateful for that one singular legacy. It’s come in real handy as folks come up to him and pepper him with questions on the football field like:

-is your dad strung out on coke or heroin these days? is it true what happened to your sister, man? did your daddy force himself or is your mama so pathetic she couldn’t say no to a man she was divorcin? got anythin’ I can trade off ya, Presley?-

Benign, regular family questions. Sorta questions most 20 year olds have gotta answer, for sure. He sucks harder and tastes copper round his finger.

“Oh yes. Really darling, I’m fine. We’re fine, in fact.” Mama’s talking again. That’s a bold statement. To refer to them as “we” and to say they’re fine. She’s not mean enough to lie to him now, not now it’s all crashed and crumbled and they’re trying to pick up the pieces together. His little cupcake world of happy families is sorta shot to hell by this point, anyways. Least Mama can do is be truthful about it, and learning from his daddy’s mistakes, Jesse chooses to believe her when she says she’s well.

That they’re good.

“Ok, good.” he breathes for what he realizes must be the first time in awhile, his fingers are numb and his lips feel tingly, he’s gotta stop doing that, he’s gonna pass out one day, he can feel it. “The baby?”

“Fine. We’re all fine, Butnin, I asked how you were.” she reminds him gently.

“I’m fine, mama.” he is, now that he’s back to breathing. Breathing is good for one’s health. He’s gonna keep it up. “Daisy is settling in alright, too.” he beats Mama to the question, glossing over some of the more queasy aspects of heroin rehabilitation. “T-the nurse here, uh, D-Donna, she uh, she said we oughta be over the worst of it. The uh, initial withdrawls and such.”

“Was it bad, Jesse?” poor mama, how’d it come to this that she has to ask it.

“Yeah, fairly.” he admits, recalling his baby sister’s foaming mouth and dilated eyes and seizing throat. Holding her as she scratched at herself like a maniac, forced her to tear at him instead. Donna, the nurse, has got him fixed up with plasters all up and down his forearms and hands. “But that part’s worn off.” he assumes mama knows what he means, if she hasn’t dealt with it directly with daddy she at least knows of it, even if his were all prescribed. “She’s just real sleepy now. Sleeps all day and most the night. I try to keep her talking and singing and playing stuff so, uh, so that she’s tired, ya know? So she’ll sleep heavy. She’ll get better quicker. That’s what Donna says, the more she sleeps the faster she’ll detox.”

“My sweet boy.” Mama murmurs and that’s compensation enough for how little sleep he’s gotten this past week and everything else.

“Happy to do it.” he mumbles, and he means it.

“I know,” she answers earnestly, “and we’re grateful.” they both let that lie and after a minute she speaks up again, a saucy undercurrent to her tone that throws him for a loop. It's been such ages since he heard it: “So, this Donna, you’ve mentioned her last time and before that, too. Is she an experienced nurse, dear?”

Jesse groans into his hand only to realize it’s amplifying the sound through the speaker. In his loneliness here he may have forgotten how obvious it is that he’s latched on like a limpet to the one genuine human who’ll give him something besides canned answers when his sister aspirates on her own spit in the bathroom floor.

“I-I-I lost one sister this way already.” he’d gasped to sweet little Donna and her baby cheeked self as they peeled Daisy off the floor and got her on a stretcher, “Jo, Jo died from this.”

Not a drug withdrawal, of course. Jo had drowned inside mama. But still.

-Aspirating.

It held a bizarre terror for him, that fancy word, his whole childhood and the whole nine months of waiting for Marie to come out healthy. He’d never forget asking his daddy one day at table how they could be sure this new baby wouldn’t drown, too. Daddy had gotten so angry before bursting into tears at the head of the table. Nobody had ever seen anything like it before or since. All that grief just stored up, and him scared as any of them for a repeat and no kid’s tactless inquiry and it all surface. “We don’t know.” Mama had said and daddy cut her off harshly, “No, Elaine!” he’d near yelled, “No, don’t even say it. This one’s gonna live, I'm demandin’ it.” Mama had bit her lip and replied softly, “Then we’d better start praying so.”

And that’s what they did every night for eight months, Daddy led them all in laying their hands on mama's growing belly and prayed and prayed until Marie came screaming into the world with clear lungs. And so Jesse got himself on the floor and beat at Daisy’s back while praying and Donna did it too, right with him.

“Uh, Donna’s pretty young but she’s capable.” he answers mama’s question.

“How old?” there’s nothing sly in her tone now, just genuine concern for the quality of her daughter’s care takers.

“She’s nineteen, mama,” Jesse admits with a wince, “she’s my age.”

“Ah.” and a long pause follows.

“There’s others too, but she’s the most eager, most -caring.”

“That’s good. Thank God he sent someone for y’all. I knew He would.”

“Yeah, she’s, she’s real sweet mama.” he assures.

“Oh is she?” there’s a smirk in her tone now.

“Nineteen and sweet.” that’s daddy’s voice coming through the phone from a distance and Jesse starts to stiffen. “Does this Donna happen to be pretty, too, son?”

Jesse is back to grinding his teeth and it sends a spark of pain up to his temple.

“Elvis!” His mama honest to god titters and it’s been such a while since Jesse heard that sound he suddenly feels like forgiving his daddy a few things just for that. Just for bringing that back. It makes his eyes sting.

Donna has hair the color of mamas but with a touch more red in it and it curls and fans in such a messy and unstudied way as to remind him of an artist, all while smashed beneath a nurse's cap. And her smile is sunshine incarnate and her eyes are as blue as his and her lips as plump as strawberries and she’s the first person he feels like he can trust in ages. Not that he’s trusted her with much besides showing he’s at the end of his rope with exhaustion and emotion. But she never missed a beat.

“I-I-I don’t mean to keep mentioning her it’s just-“ he bites his lip harshly before deciding to be frank, “it’s hard to trust anyone. Even here everyone is gossiping about us, they think I can’t hear ‘em but I do and it’s all the time and I ain’t going up to one of those tongue wags and asking them to help Daisy when she’s that vulnerable. I just can’t. So -so it’s Donna.” he explains.

It’s dead silent on the other end for a length of time that oughta be uncomfortable but instead it soothes something in Jesse’s soul to think that he got his point across enough to shut his smartass father up for a whole minute.

“I’m sorry this is so damn hard for you, son,” it comes in a deep rumble and bitter as he is, Jesse feels his hands sweat and his cheeks too, or else that sting has overflowed and he’s crying. In public. “I’m sorry you’re havin’ to pay for my sins.”

“I-I-I’m just glad you’re back.” he croaks and looks about the place frantically to make sure he’s unobserved.

It had been so good that day daddy walked through the threshold at Graceland looking twenty pounds lighter and stone cold sober, there to sort out his children, there to intervene for Daisy. The day mama’s body gave out on her and she puddled like so much water on Graceland’s foyer floor, as if her body trusted Elvis to take care of her family even if her mind wasn’t sure he’d forgiven her for the divorce. Daddy had been perfect that day, picked mama up like a baby and took her to the hospital, made press statements like a ordinary human sayin simply that he’d “jacked it all up and was here to make amends.”

Mama and him tucked off to California to grow that baby that made her faint and Jesse was charged with Daisy and bringing her here to Dallas. It had felt like old times, Sergeant Presley and all that famous stage presence ordering them all to battle stations.

It wasn’t till later that Jesse wondered how the hell the man had the gall to show up and demand respect. Turns out mama had kept that fire going bright enough all the kids just fell in line like nothing had ever been askew. Jesse wonders if now he can go back to being nineteen again. He’s a little scared to hope. That’s the worst of it, he’s not bitter, he’s scared.

Twenty year olds have futures with little nurses named Donna. For now Jesse is not a normal almost-twenty year old.

“I’m glad you’re back.” he repeats to his daddy, “Please…stay…back.”

It’s what he begs Daisy when she tries to bribe him to sneak her illegal shit next morning.

“Enough of that, you’re nearly sober and you’re gonna stay sober. Please stay good, f’me! Please.” he begs and weedles until her big blue eyes go from watery to scornful and she has fun at his pathetic expense but Jesse doesn’t mind. It gives her something to do, teasing him for being a blubbering softy over her. It distracts her. It assures Daisy she’s wanted, that somebody -more than one in fact- would be devastated if she didn’t win this fight.

She’s become a skeleton as the detox racks her. Hospital food tasting bad on a good appetite, it’s ever worse on a poor one and Jesse tears out clumps of his now shaggy black hair in desperation to have her stay nourished. He’s not supposed to be sleeping there overnight but Donna fibs for him. He’s not supposed to sneak shit into the clinic but Donna takes him back to her house, lets him use her stove to cook pancakes -Daisy’s favorite- and helps him smuggle them in under his leather jacket. All for the price of a motorcycle ride.

Jesse’s belly burned for nights after where her little hands had overlocked to hold onto him during the ride, burning him and cooking his guts hot and wanting even beneath the leather and the layers.

“Donna’s got the same spatulas you use, mama.” He’s reporting by the third week.

“The baby’s the size of an cantelope.” she reports back.

“What’ve y’all been doin?” he tries to make conversation and even to his own ears he sounds suspicious. When did he start to sound like Jack? How much more could daddy possibly screw this up? Knock his ex-wife up doubly? Like a cat? Jesse snorts and covers with a cough.

“Talkin’ mostly, floatin in the pool.” he can hear her shrug from here, “It’s terribly hot.”

“Mmm.” he sympathizes.

“We got a marriage license yesterday.” Daddy pipes up and Jesse lets out a stifled sob of relief. The gang is back together, it would seem.

“Cool.” he rasps before Donna passes and then approaches in concern for his blotchy face.

“You ok?” she asks gently.

“Yeah, yeah fine,” Jesse scrambles, “hay fever. Killer.”

“Who’s that, Butnin?” mama asks.

“Uh, umm nobo-“

“Is that Donna?” she guesses and he winces for the umpteenth time at this damn phone.

“Mamaaaa.” he begs.

“Can I talk to her? Please, please!” she begs in turn.

“Mama no!” Jesse pleads right back and Donna backs away with that keen sense of intruding while unable to suppress her fond smile at this cute, boyish side to such a burdened young man.

By week four Donna and him have taken to walking Daisy along the corridors, getting her strength back and making her move, her always lanky frame a featherweight between them now. They all share a laugh at how Daisy towers over Donna’s tiny self, has to hunch to use the petite nurse’s shoulder while Jesse’s height makes her strain to reach. They can use a laugh, the stares they get as Daisy’s famous face gets hauled past in pajamas and socks makes Jesse lose all appetite afterwards, his fingers going cold and his lips numb. He’d like to punch something but everything here is breakable, his sister and his family’s reputation, most of all.

It’s not fair to her and it’s more work for her but this loss of appetite worries Donna and by the end of their long day’s shift they’re together again as she force feeds Jesse tacos from a nearby stand, as they walk around the old part of the city and inadvertently become friends. He may have sucked some mango salsa from her fingers, but neither of them mention it. Too busy watching the others' faces as the sun dies out and eventually he drives her home, her body tucked behind his on his bike, wind whipping her hair that’s escaped his offered helmet.

By the fifth night of this routine he steals a kiss. It’s not hard fought, she leans into him eagerly and for the first time in his life there’s nothing about conquest in the act for him, it’s just…nice. So nice he tries it the next night while they’re sat on his bike, parked by a dance hall. It’s less nice and more like licking fire this time, suddenly his sweet intentions for her are a burning mass of need and that night Jesse goes back to his dinky motel alone and engages in wasteful practices in the shower. Donna had asked where he was staying and when he told her she’d been aghast.

“I just prefer something more -normal.” he’d said.

“Sure but -but that place is dangerous, Jesse.” she’d been so concerned for him and he gobbled it up like a starved man. “Normal folks don’t stay there even.”

“Maybe I’m not normal.” he’d quipped and Donna thought about his mother and her mafia connections, the ones with the dirt that sank Colonel Parker during the divorce, she thought of the bike clubs that Jesse is seen frequenting in the magazines, she thinks about how far the Presley’s might go to reconnect with normal folks -she holds her tongue. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, lil, I can handle myself.” he’d assured her as he thumbed out her frown.

“I know.” Donna had replied, “I mean, I’ve read about how you handle yourself.” and she’d run an admiring hand down his bicep before kissing him again.

That was another thing he liked about Donna, she didn’t play stupid about his family and she also didn’t pry. She’d read about him and Jack bustin’ those guys asses for what they did to Rosalee and she mentioned it. And left it at that. Jesse liked that maybe most of all. He also liked how everything he’d trusted her with never got related by anyone else. No nursing staff gossip or a sweet insider tip for a newspaper. Donna took his trust and tucked it tight inside her chest, right in that tender heart of her’s. He liked that about her, right next to her sweet smile and her warm nature and the feel of her breasts smashed to his back on a long ride.

“You’re in love.” Daisy goaded him the next day as she scribbled in the journal he had gotten her. They encouraged writing here and Daisy’s material had gradually shifted from juvenile doodles and giant block letters proclaiming “JESSE IS AN ASSHOLE” to something that looked alarmingly like stanzas as he snooped over the top of the pages.

Jesse colored brightly at her goad and adamantly refuted it. “That’s the drugs talkin’.” he joked.

“So you’re just passin’ time with her.”

“I-I-I dunno, Daisy.” he spluttered, “It’s not exactly hoppin’ here when you’re out cold. Can only call mama so many times a day. Gotta talk to someone.”

“Does mama hate me?” she asked suddenly and he stopped cold in the middle of tuning her guitar to stare at her dumbly. “I mean -I deserve it I just…”

“No she don’t hate you!” he found his voice, “Don’t be an idiot. That self pityin’ mope don’t help the beauty of those dark circles none. She’s just wore out.”

“I wore her out.”

“Mm well, we all had a hand.” Jesse fudges.

“Ella told me to just get on with dyin.” she reveals, and Jesse puts his pick down for good this time, taking a deep breath and trying to listen coolly. “When mama was taken to the hospital and layin’ there unresponsive, Ella said I’d brought her to that, said if I was so intent on killin’ myself that I should get on with it and spare mama the suspense.”

“Well,” Jesse tries for a moderate tone, “that was a shitty thing to say.” he concedes, “And you -don’t pay Ella no attention. She’s worried and scared to death half times that Johnny won’t come back from ‘Nam. And now she’s takin’ care of Marie on top of her own baby. She’s just a little vinegary, thas all, pregnancy hormones. Took it out on you.”

“I think she’s scared the guy she married in such a rush is gonna come back.” Daisy growled. She crossed out a line angrily and Jesse was really starting to worry about those scribbles.

Jesse let her finish before he asked, “Why’s that?” It’s not like he got much thinking done lately between the court hearings and getting his head knocked about on the turf.

“She don’t love him.” Daisy rolled her eyes heavenward in an action that mama would have looked on with annoyance. Jesse glared at Daisy in her stead.

“People love in different ways, Daisy.” he sighed even as he had no bullets to fight her argument, Ella had left in uncharacteristically rash fashion, seemingly unable to take the atmosphere at home anymore. “And she says John’s a good man.”

“All that means is he don’t beat her.” Daisy snarked.

“Well, that’s a step towards romance.” Jesse joked back and they let the subject lie.

Each day Daisy gets stronger and writes more and more in that little book. Not that Jesse sees her at it most times, it’s just the pen she wedges in to keep her place gets closer and closer to the middle, and then towards the back. Snooping isn’t an option but he imagines they’ve got a lotta heartbreak on those pages, maybe bled out like lyrics.

Now days he makes the walk with her without Nurse Donna, and it’s both sad and a victory in one. Now that she’s strong enough to notice the stares Daisy takes delight in feebly flipping off her voyeurs and that’s a fight Jesse doesn't have it in him to win. If it makes her grin, he allows it, that stupid, crooked little boy grin that his daddy plopped right onto a young girl’s face. She’s perfect, she’s perfect and getting healthy and the stares don’t matter much. Not till he hears a voice he’s become very attuned to, snap at some idling nurses:

“Haven’t you got any work to do?”

And his head spins like a top on his neck and sure enough, that was Donna, temper snapping for what might be the first time in her sweet life, and Jesse feels his tingly gratitude down to his very toes.

“She’s alright, that one.” Daisy smirks beside him and little does he know her enthusiasm stems partly from last night when Daisy gave a little sisterly admonition to Miss Donna that her brother liked her and if she didn’t treat his soft heart gentle like, then Daisy was gonna unstring her guitar and end her with a metal cord.

“How ya doin, mama?” he asks her on a Tuesday and even to himself his voice sounds better. He may be far more tired than he was when he first came in here but his relief at Daisy’s progress colors his tone in hope.

“Doing good Butnin, real good.” she sounds good alright, more than good and Jesse uncurls his fist and let’s himself relax a little as he gives his daily report on Daisy. And Donna.

“Rosalee told me she’s gonna pop in and see y’all.” Mama informs him.

“Good time for it,” Jesse hums, “Mae Mae’s better enough to chat but she could use the encouragement.”

“I bet.” Mama sounds sad again. That won’t do.

Jesse lip curls up in mischief as he asks next, “Jack been by to see ya?” he inquires about that little sea creature hybrid he’s been missing and must call brother, “Brought any dolphins home to meet ya yet?”

“Oh Jesse! Stop!” she laughs a sweet peal of laughter and Jesse smugly twirls the phone cord round and round at his success, “He’s coming to dinner tonight, he has been too caught up before, he’s been out on the ocean for six weeks! I’m scared to see the state of his skin!”

“Welllll,” Jesse drawls, “No way the sun could burn that dimple off so, he’ll be fine.”

“He actually saved someone’s life, uh, day before yesterday.” Daddy’s voice rumbles through the receiver and Jesse’s eyes roll backwards a little at the way he’s never caught his parents separate on this trip, not even once. He can picture the patio phone and its loungers and its umbrellas right now, and imagines that daddy is probably cradling mama’s belly like he can push that magic healing through the skin and make that baby the healthiest infant California’s ever seen.

“Did he now?” Jesse admires, “Makin’ us proud, ain’t he?”

“Yeah, hauled someone who’d been adrift for ages, right up into his boat.” Daddy elaborates without a hint of mockery in his proud tone and Jesse smiles to himself.

“Bout time he put those muscles to use, s’not like he uses them when carrying snails around.” he teases back because having a serious and admiring conversations about Jackson might be a step too far in the healing process. Not this early, mama resting and then getting remarried and cooking a baby is plenty for the plate. Conceding that Jack isn’t a walking disaster is a little too much too soon. Heroics aside.

By week six at the Center they’re into behavioral shit and Jesse can freely admit this isn't the Presley family’s strong suit, but he’s gotta hand it to his sister that she is less preoccupied during it than he is. Out of respect for Rosalee’s interest in the same profession, Daisy pays a decent amount of attention to the therapist’s counsel. Jesse would be more attentive if the first fifty pages of Red West’s freshly published tell-all of his family’s secrets wasn’t banging around in his head. Somehow, somehow it’s not even the dirt that gets to him, makes him stagger out into the hall after a while and crumple against a cart and let the world go dim.

It’s the sweet stuff, the gentle stuff, the stuff that was only ever supposed to be theirs as a family and that fuckers like Red West were goddamn privlidged to be witnesses to, spilled out for all the world to pick apart and psycho-analyze. He hasn’t told Daisy and now she’s asleep and as he’s on the floor in the deserted hall he finds there’s really nothing stopping him from doing what he wants. So he panics and lets himself work up to a dim eyed fury and only the cool shock of a wet rag against his neck brings him back from it.

“Just breathe for me, honey.” That little Texan ascent is saying as he gulps into a brown bag with the embarrassed realization he’s had a panic attack. Sure Daddy had them at his age, too, but that was to go perform in front of hundreds of folks. This is just from reading Red Fuckin’ West’s bad prose. He can hear himself laughing, hiccuping little laughs of derision at himself and it, and Donna cooing all the while.

“You can’t drive your bike like that.” she points to his still shaky hands half an hour later.

It’s comforting watching Donna shut the place down, not that it’s totally abandoned at night, not at all, but just watching her finish up her duties and stash away her papers and arrange her workspace feels as if the heart of the place, the vitality if it, is turning in for the night. And he’s going with it.

He follows Donna like a lost puppy and she doesn’t mind it, he’s sweet and soft spoken and no matter what she does she only gets weak chuckles from him.

His boisterous charm and tired joviality is threadbare and she feels like it’s the right thing to do to slip her hand into the crook of Jesse’s elbow, to gently tow him out of the Center’s fluorescent lit maze and out into the night. He giggles at her guiding him into the passenger side, a soft little noise of trusting gentleness that is bizarrely attractive in such a capable man. He folds his long limbs into her dinky car and waits patiently for her to get into her side.

“What?!” Donna asks him as Jesse keeps gazing at her with big blue eyes and droopy pink lips as she turns the key and fidgets with the windows to get some air flow, “Am I gonna have to buckle you in?” she teases at the way he’s just melted into the seat, head leaned against the headrest and long limbs folded where they first flopped.

“Mmmmmaybeee.” Jesse drags it out and giggles again -and she knows it is common to be a little drunk, a little silly, a little loopy after a panic attack as severe as the one she found him having, but she’s never heard of it or seen it be so cute. Against her better judgment to coddle a grown man, Donna leans over the small console between them and reaches across Jesse for the seatbelt, getting the strongest whiff of his natural musk and spicy cologne she’s ever gotten, it makes the musty cab of the car feel ten times hotter than it was moments ago and she fumbles in her haste to hurry up and distance herself.

It’s silly, Donna thinks, she’s being silly to find this procedure of bucking him in a intimate thing when they’ve done far more, when they’ve kissed heatedly on his bike and danced wildly to that new Elton John record in her off time. They’ve been more forward than this but somehow his pliant and drowsy magnetism has her heart thudding and her body responding in ways not even his glorious kissing could produce. But the way his breath puffs from his lips and the way he looks at her as if she’s everything he wants in this moment makes it hard to brush this interaction off as a nurse with her patient. Or a friend helping a friend. Donna brought Jesse in because he was physically unfit to drive, she is being kind because he’s obviously had an awful day, he’s loose and pliant because of exhaustion -these are familiar things to Donna, they are integral to her vocation and her expertise.

And yet there’s those eyes of his, soft and burning all at once, catching her skin on fire and soothing it right after.

It does nothing to make her breathing calm as she drags the buckle across his soft yet lean belly, down the taper of his waist, so willowy and elegant that it makes her want to cry in envy, sliding it to latch at his hip.

“Donna.” he rasps before she can pull away, his hand shakily coming up to touch her cheek and she stalls, feeling as scared as a kid for what he’ll say next, “You take the sunshine with ya, everywhere you go. M’sorry for those poor suckers we’ve left.” he jerks his head towards the blazing ball of light that is the Center amidst the dark parking lot and Donna blinks at the compliment, absorbing it slowly as his fingers on her cheek do their best to wipe her mind blank.

“Daisy is gonna be fine.” Donna assures, scrambling to order her reassurances for maximum comfort, “She’s getting stronger and she’ll be asleep the whole time we’re gone. A-and we gotta take care of you, ok? Can’t have you going down too, can we?”

“Okay.” he whispers and she realizes her hand is still pressed to his belly. “I-I’ve had a bad day.” he admits, and it’s the first self focused thing she’s ever heard out of this forever uncomplaining boy.

“Let’s uh, let’s get you home -rested. Let’s get you rested.” she propels herself back over to her side of the car and jerks the gear more forcefully than needed before driving them out. She’s not sure they actually talked about it or that it was agreed to verbally but they somehow both know they’re headed to her rented house, the place with the ratty sofa and the duck taped windows and the malfunctioning stove that Jesse cajoled into working long enough to make Daisy batch after batch of fluffy pancakes. She had nearly sprung on him back then, taken him down to the floor and ravished him for being such a nice human being.

The bar might be low for men, but since that day, Donna had learned that Jesse Presley was more than lean legs, a nice ass, a gorgeous face and an earnest desire to please. Jesse Presley was a good man. And so Donna felt no qualms about taking him to her house, plopping him down on the sofa after fetching sheets, and letting his grabby hands tug her down atop him for a goodnight kiss. A kiss that lasted, and lasted, and lasted. Lasted until he was kissing between her breasts, the neck of her tshirt tugged down in a way that would deform its shape forever as she was idiotically scrambling to undo his clunky belt, eager to see the expanse of perfect, golden skin that his face and neck promised.

Donna had never gone this far with a man before but some inner voice told her it was a once in a lifetime chance, not to sleep with a Presley, but to ease a boy who needs so much comfort right now he literally can’t breathe. Jesse’s kisses don’t stop and she doesn’t try to make them, he’s inexorable while being slow, and it’s a combination she’d never witnessed before. Perhaps if he’d rushed her, or made an outright pass, she’d have had time to consider, to deny. But he just kissed her and kissed her as his hands mapped and worshiped her, caressing her all the way from his allotted couch to her bed until she was beneath him, accepting him inside her body like she had let him in her heart.

Idly Donna wondered how many girls his father took and left with the same good intentions, winders if the generations will just keep at it, on and on. It doesn’t feel trite though, she’s not sure if it’s because it’s her first time or because of how intensely tender he is, or the way he cries partway through the act.

“Hay fever, sorry.” Jesse insists weakly.

“Killer this time of year.” Donna agrees, stroking down the sweaty muscles of his rippling back, “For me it’s the cedar.”

She feels trusted with his tears, cherished by his revenant kisses, and never once does he give her cause to regret it, to panic. It’s slow and needy, strong but kind, the whole way through -just like him. Donna’s eyes sting at the realization he’s giving her such a sweet first time, even if he doesn’t know it. She finds herself sniffling with him over the thought that it might be the only time.

“Thank you, thank you.” he gushes, sweet as anything in a thin whisper, after he scrambles out of her and she adds her hand to his to finish him off. He had dexterously snagged a pillow case off one of her pillows and after it had served its purpose, he dropped the sodden thing to the ground.

There’s nothing trite about the way they lay in sweet silence afterwards, the way he doesn’t even try to collect his autonomy but instead winds those long limbs around her and keeps his face on her sweaty chest. “You’re a rare one Donna.” he praises, sleepy and gentle over her heart.

Donna struggled against sleep for the next hour, desperate to engrave the feeling of him laying melted on her in peaceful slumber and the pounding ache between her legs that had finally known a man. Something like virginity that she simply hadn’t gotten around to tossing away, was suddenly something very dear and painfully sentimental to her now it was gone. Now it was now wrapped up in soft kisses, large hands entwining hers to the sheets and raspy endearments. She fell asleep propped against the pillow with his head on her belly, repeating to herself at the rhythm of her pulse down there -it’s just a fling, it’s just a fling, don’t expect more, you hopeful idiot.

Cold sheets, or the sound of the door shutting from his exit or the scratchy presence of a note the next morning were conspicuously absent when Donna woke up.

Instead she heard the sound of gentle babbling, like the way a person might talk to a pet and combined with the gentle wriggling she sensed beneath the sheets, Donna engaged briefly in a time warp and wondered when she got a puppy and who was talking to it. But there was no puppy here, instead, as cognisense fully set in she frantically sat up and beat at the wriggly sheets, Donna found Jesse, still long and lean and naked as she hazily recalled from the dimness last night, wedged between her legs and chatting with her muff, placing chaste kisses to it that barely parted her outer lips.

“No way.” she said her foggy morning thoughts aloud at the sight of this beautiful boy still with her in the daylight and more pressingly -face to face with her used and unwashed and unshaven privates. “Oh what are you going to do?” she wailed as that mortifying relaxation sunk in. “Why’re you down there, you nut?“

“Good Mornin’ to you too, miss.” Jesse laughed and his breath tickled her core that was feeling strangely achy and happy all at once. “I’m gonna lick your wounds, silly.” he slapped her thigh gently as he went on as if to reprimand her while tugging up a mildly bloody sheet corner as evidence for his displeasure, “Donna, ya shoulda said, dear.”

“Oh it’s not a big deal.” she insisted in a bit of a panic to get him away from her vagina and in an attempt to convince herself it didn’t mean much. “You were so good. Don’t worry about it.”

“But you shoulda told me.” he insisted gently.

“There wasn’t much time for talking.” she cringed as soon as she said it but he took that in stride after realizing she was not insinuating any wrongdoing on his part.

“Are you hurtin’ much?” he asked gently and he was still down there, broad and smooth shoulders wedged between her stubbled thighs, tapering down to his tiny waist and that peachy butt and then those legs that were hanging off the edge of her bed like so much lumber. “Donna?” he asked with laughter in his voice as her eyes glazed over in review of him.

“No, not much, you were very nice. It felt great.” she insisted truthfully and ended with a little hiss as he ran his knuckles along her petals. “I mean, I-I’m honestly not sure I’m up for more activities right this minute but it’s not bad. It’s not hurting. Please don’t worry about it.”

“Did you even…peak?” he asked and his face flushed red like he was most ashamed of not being sure of that.

“No I-I was mostly just soaking up the whole…experience.” she admitted because it was true and didn’t strike her as deplorable at all. He had been big and she was new and it wasn’t quite comfortable enough to get there. Which hadn’t diminished the experience or changed the point of their tryst anyway. “That wasn’t the point of it all anyway.” she said softly while reaching to push his hair out of his eyes. It had grown inches since she first met him. “Not for me.”

Jesse’s face softened quickly at that. Like she had struck a nerve and soothed him all at once. “Yeah,” he nodded, “it wasn’t for me either.” and it feels like a far larger confession that it is for both of them, “Which is rich comin’ from the man who got to come.” he laughed at himself right after and she did too. “Now spread these legs so hims can do a lil community service on hers poor widdle clam shell.”

Donna never would have thought such babyish, almost infantilizing gibberish could be so authoritative but the potency of its endearing qualities, with his skilled tongue and earnest desire to please, ensured her cooperation so that they didn’t leave the bed for hours yet. Donna soon forgot her unshaved legs, her need for a glass of water and the fact she’d forgotten to set an alarm -and then when she recalled that detail in a lull of his caresses, she recalled that it was Saturday and she was off. And then he wiped her mind blank again.

It wasn’t till halfway through the radio blasting Dancing Queen and Jesse discoing in jeans and nothing else while flipping an omelet that it seemed to occur to him there was a life outside Donna’s little place and Donna’s fluffy hair and Donna’s ratty rented flat, and Donna’s sunshiny smile. She watched as reality intruded on his creaseless features, an instant pucker and burdened eyes clouding that ethereally sweet face as the outside crashed in.

A world outside Donna. It felt as good to see how well she’d helped him to escape as it was painful to watch it all come back down on him, weighing like a mantle on those strong shoulders.

“Shi-eeet!” he slid to a screeching stop of his jiving in his sock feet across her linoleum floor. “I was gonna call mama, see how they’re takin’ the book release stuff.”

Donna had vaguely heard gossip about what she supposed was the book in question. A dirty little tattle tale by a fired employee is all it sounded like to her. “It’s bad then?” she asked.

“Shitty enough grammar to make me puke.” he joked bashfully and she supposed that it was his way of asking to drop it. “What’re you doin’ with your weekend? Like today? What else ya doin?”

“Not much.” she admitted, crossing her arms over the baggy shirt she’d donned to watch him cook her breakfast. “Um, I suppose I should get more groceries-“

“-I’ll make ya a list and we can go.”

“-and, oh. Ok. Yeah. And umm, well, I need to check on my dad. I usually spend my Saturday dinners with him.”

“Oh.” Jesse bit his lip, “I-I can go…you wouldn’t mind me taggin’ along for the groceries bit?” he asked.

“Of course not!” she tried to laugh off her butterflies, “Are you worried I’ll buy the wrong flour?”

“No, I’m worried you’ll buy margarine instead of good wholesome butter.” he growled gravely as he looped his arms around her waist and tugged her to him, laying his chin on the top of her head like she was dear to him and the butterflies went rogue in her belly against all her attempts to stay untangled. “I just wanna be with ya.” he admitted and she shuddered, winding her arms around his willowy waist and clinging on.

“I’d like that.” she admitted.

“Lemme just call my Mama real quick?” he asked.

Donna cringed before admitting, “I don’t have a working landline.”

“What?” Jesse pulled away just enough to look her in the eye, his own wide in protest, “Good lord darlin’, that won’t do. Livin’ alone and no phone for me to hear if you’re alright. Well, lemme grab my shirt and- help yourself to the omelet, baby. And remind me to get ya a damn phone!” he was already disappearing down her hall and she stared at the egg and ham concoction before her, wishing the terrible anxiety she felt over much she liked him would calm so she could taste it.

They ended up swinging by the Center first as Jesse acted like he’d committed a murder when noon rolled around and he hadn’t checked on Daisy yet. Donna felt for him and recalled the feel of his tongue too clearly to a fuss as she flicked her blinker to turn left, away from groceries and phones, and back towards her workplace. Some little part of her hoped he’d forget his promise to buy her one, it was extravagant and a little embarrassing.

The thumping beat of Springsteen’s Thunder Road filled her car with verve that matched the muggy exhaust tainted breeze that whipped through the windows and the noonday sun that glinted off Jesse’s rings as his hand wind surfed out the window.

“I got to play bass on this one.” Jesse murmured like someone might mention they had a hand in scoring a strike in their local bowling championships.

“What?! On this? You’ve worked with Springsteen?” she cried in shocked admiration.

“S’all my mama’s doin’.” he insisted as if regretting he’d made a deal of it. “A-and daddy. He taught me bass.” it’s the first personal thing about his daddy he’s divulged and Donna tucks it away for safe keeping.

“Aren’t you marvelous.” Donna swears.

“Hardly,” he blushes, “S’just when your name is Presley and your mom’s got her hand on the levers -artist’s tend to let ya mess about.”

“I somehow doubt they’d let a complete dud jam on their album.” she snarks and he bites his lip and doesn't retort.

The harmonica warbles on and Jesse’s hand raps out a rhythm on the car door. “-show a little faith there’s magic in the night! You ain’t beauty but hey you're alright, and that’s alright wi’me.” he sings to her, far more melodious than Springsteen’s grit and his eyes sparkle far more than stereo light ever could.

Once parked he worries his lip between his fingers as he stares at a faintly familiar car parked by his bike. It’s probably telling enough that Jesse left the thing here and went home with someone else. Or maybe folks will assume he wandered the streets and dive bars all night. At least that would spare Donna’s reputation while at it. “How ‘bout I go in first a-and if you want you come in later or -if ya don’t mind, you could wait out here? I’ll be back! Soon, I-I won’t dawdle, I swear!” he assures.

“Jesse, take all the time you need.” she smiles at him, leveraging her chair to lay back as sunbeams bathe her in a lemony glow, “I’ll be out here working on my tan.”

His smile is so full of relief that Donna realizes he was worried she’d be offended by his distancing himself and if he weren’t so relieved then maybe she’d be tempted to be offended. But she can’t bring herself to be. It’s all a mess in her head but she figures she can not make it worse by being accepting of the fact he doesn’t want to be seen with her. It’s ok, his smile makes that ok, as does the way those long fingers unclasp his seatbelt and the way those long limbs lean over her in a mirroring of last night and she feels those plush pink lips smooch her forehead, long and devoutly.

“Sit tight, baby.” he commands with his lips barely leaving her skin and then he’s out the door and strutting across the parking lot without a seeming trace of nervousness.

Rounding the hall down towards Daisy’s room he passes by the familiar wall phone and stops in his tracks at the sight of Rosalee propping Daisy up while having the receiver wedged between their cheeks. For a flash in his mind they don’t look a day over six with their scrunched faces and contrasting hair, always so compatible while entirely opposites.

Rosalee spots him first as Daisy is busy yacking at whoever they’ve held captive on the line and her blue eyes light with sweet recognition as she teases, “Well hey loverboy, good morning. Or is it afternoon?”

That makes Daisy look up and she answers someone on the line by proclaiming, “Yeah, he juusssst nowww walked in.”

“Who is that?” Jesse mouths, his forehead a washboard of wrinkled anxiety that Rosalee can’t bear anymore so she cracks and admits,

“It’s Mama, silly.”

Jesse relaxes a little on that account, moreso for the fact Daisy has obviously gotten past her presumption of being hated by their mother, if the giggles and gumption in her talk are any clue.

“Well yeah, I think he can talk,” Daisy is saying, “I mean I dunno, I’ll ask him. He looks like he’s missing a few ounces of fluids. You still got your tongue Jess?”

“Hush up!” He begs, pink in the face at the thought of mama thinking he’s been sleeping around when he was entrusted by Daddy to take care of his sister.

Daisy sticks her tongue out at him and Jesse finds that more reassuring that she’s stone cold sober than any other behavior he’s seen from her in rehab. Checking to make sure their squabble is unwitnessed, Jesse turns back and sticks out his own.

“Eww put that away, where’s it even been this morning?” she groans and his closes his mouth so fast his sisters become convinced of what had just been a suspicion.

“Oooh…” Rosalee coos.

“Nope nope nope.” He silences them with a meaningful hand chopping motion to the throat, “I kinda had an episode last night, and uh, Miss Donna was kind enough to lemme ride with her since my hands were shakin’. That’s it.”

“Oh Jesse!” Mama’s concern is loud enough over the phone to blast Daisy’s eardrums and reach his own, “Are you ok? You gotta make sure you eat and sleep. Did you sleep? She taking care of you? Baby? Are you -is he there, y’all?”

Rosalee scootches aside and pats the tiny sliver of white wall between the twins in invitation and resignedly he wiggles between them as Daisy laughs and tugs on the cord to help it reach him. Tucked together like this it feels doubly absurd to Jesse to be so fretted over and also, entirely soothing. He flings a lanky arm around each girl’s shoulder and squats a little to help Daisy reach his ear as she holds the receiver for him.

“Mama I’m fine.” he insists mid giggle as Rosalee’s finger finds a way to his armpit.

“Yeah, so fine you can’t drive!” Mama retorts and it relieves him that she obviously thinks the best of him, that he was in bad enough shape to go to a random girl’s house and not that he’s behaving like an absolute horndog in a new city. Just to make her not worry, he half wishes she’d think worse of him and just be displeased.

“Alright so, maybe I snooped through Red’s book yesterday.” Jesse admits since he intended to see how daddy and she were taking it, after all. “And it’s such shitty storytelling I got a little worked up. You know how I am when folks lyrics are dry a-“

“-Red wrote a book?” Rosalee interrupts as does Daisy with a-

“-am I in it?”

Jesse purses his lips and nods, twirling the phone cord and waiting quietly for Mama to say something.

When she does it’s a droll, “Red made takin’ LSD sound boring.” And between Donna’s sweet lovin’ and mama’s superhuman ability to shrug off the most defaming shit on the planet, Jesse is left smiling and burdened with only one small anxiety.

“How’s daddy takin’ it?” he asks as his ear gets pinched from Daisy mashing her face to his, eager to overhear. Rosalee is just face watching and Jesse knows she’ll get more information from that than if she listened.

“Oh, a bit hard.” she admits, “It's just so -so- tacky. To do that to a friend!” now she sounds mad, “When did we ever hurt that narcissistic fool? If our lifestyle was so unbearable he coulda quit, he had two decades to do it.”

“Yup.” Jesse pops the word for emphasis and notices someone down the hall has a disposable camera pointed at their little huddle. He supposes they do look a little bizarre, stacked in the alcove like overly matured sardines.

“Anyone giving you trouble about it?” Mama adds in concern.

“No. You know it jus’ came out yesterday and I-I-I haven’t been out and about much today.” Jesse admits and Daisy makes suggestive hand motions at waist level that he pointedly ignores.

“He predicts that when we’re in our fifties we’ll get back together.” she murmurs.

“Spoilers!” he hisses and mama laughs as does someone in the background that could only be daddy. “A real, genuine prophet, that Red.” Jesse wheezes. “And daddy,” he hollers loudly in hopes he’ll hear, “he were wrong about me hating the damn rollercoaster. I shit my pants everytime outta joy, I swear. Don’t let nobody make ya doubt that.”

For a minute all he can hear are mama’s suppressed belly laughs before Daddy’s rings clatter on the other end and the kids can almost hear the scratch of a sideburn against the mouthpiece, “Y’all can hear me?” he rumbles through and Jesse’s face gets smashed from both sides as the girls crowd in.

“Yeah we can hear ya daddy.”

“Alright then listen to me, lil munchkins,” his voice sounds as deep and smooth as chocolate, even over a trashy phone speaker, and they all hypnotically sway in anticipation of his next word, “y’all know how much I love each of ya, that I’d happily burn down my trophy room ‘fore I let anythin’ happen to the window boxes with yer various uh, weeds and rocks and such in ‘em that Red was always mockin’ and uh, I wanna apologize to ya, from the bottom of my heart, that I hindered y’all in your quest to strap the Wests to Roman Candles that one christmas. Ya had the right idea.”

Jesse’s day gets magically better after that phone call, like one sentence from Daddy can patch up his whole life. But deep down he knows, it’s a thread of Donna running through the whole thing, buoying him up, smoothing out the creases, patching up the little cuts. It makes daddy’s voice sound richer and his promises truer and Jesse holds the receiver and smiles as Rosalee makes plans to drive back for classes and visit them while she’s at it and Daisy suggests baby names.

Things are as they should be and somehow that means he ends up walking out into the parking lot with his two sisters, one of whom was technically not released and piling into Donna’s beat up Oldsmobile and taking off for the grocery store as if that were a sane thing to do. Rosalee tries her best to meet the young woman driving them and Donna is anything but cagey, yet with Daisy’s blathering about her and Jesse’s blushing over her and Donna’s slightly overwhelmed joy at it all -they make for a chaotic entourage picking out butter and pickles and hamburger buns.

Next stop, Donna watches as Jesse and Daisy spend a solid twenty minutes weighing the value of different landlines when all Donna needs it for is to answer if she’s been murdered or not and during this analysis she learns from Rosalee that the auburn haired girl with the bashful grin is going to school at Stanford. Nearly gave her father a heart stack, she laughs when she tells it, but she wanted to study psychology and be nearer him -the subtext that Elvis was more often in Vegas than at his own home goes unsaid and Donna doesn’t bat an eye.

For what the papers have to say about this family, there’s never once been due credit given for their love and comradery. It couldn’t have been easy and maybe it was far from good at times, but the Presley’s didn’t create this much love from a vacuum. Some aching part of Donna wants to meet them all and watch them in their natural habitat, swear to them that she gets it, that she’s so starved for it herself she’d trade anything for such affectionate dysfunction.

The phone Jesse buys her has no superior merits in static or connection but it does have a zebra print handle on it that Daisy insisted was the height of chic, and he insisted in turn that Donna deserved sexy things. Looking down at her overalls and plaid shirt, Donna has to agree she’s not exactly in Jesse Presley’s league.

Before she can think on that for too long and get herself into knots about it, they’ve piled back into the car and Daisy is eagerly asking if they can get dinner -if she can eat outside of her fluorescent lit, sterile white prison. Donna feels for her and she can see Jesse trying to formulate an excuse, how now is time to let Donna be as she’s gotta go visit her dad. If she weren’t so convinced these dear kids actually liked hanging with her she’d never have the guts to suggest it but they’re too honest and forthright in their affection for her to doubt it so she hears herself suggesting:

“Y’all could come meet my dad? H-he loves your dad’s music. Learned drums awhile back just to match Fontana. I know he’d love y’all to bits.” Rosalee and Daisy raise a chorus of agreement in the backseat but Jesse hesitates and Dona refuses to be hurt by it. He’s obviously the more cautious of them, and he’s got reason to be. Donna thinks she saw someone taking photographs of them all as they came out of the market.

There’s also the unspoken worry about putting Daisy out in public so soon with surroundings teaming with alcohol and other temptations. It makes Donna clarify, haltingly, “It would be somewhere quiet, wholesome. My dad he’s um, he’s a recovering alcoholic, see? That’s how I got into nursing, mama left to go get more from life and I stayed to take care of him. He’s been clean for a good bit now but -he could use the friendship.”

Daisy looks like she’s about to take offense at being considered only fit for friendships with washed up drunks and Donna gets it, that it’s touchy but it needed to be said if they’re going to meet him. Rosalee intervenes instead with a soft,

“Sounds good to me, we’d love to meet him. For my schedule it works, doesn't it Jesse?” she asks, “I mean, as long as it’s somewhere quiet? Maybe out of the city proper?”

“Yeah,” Donna agrees, already having a joint in mind, “we’ll get out of the city. Maybe out by Plano? They’ve got good barbecue at this one place.”

“Jess?” Rosalee asks again, softer this time.

Jesse just turns around in his seat, long arm bracing himself and his bulging forearm stretched across the console and Donna’s mouth waters at the popping veins and nimble fingers as she watches him stare a mute Daisy down. “Can I take you for barbecue with Miss Donna and her daddy and trust you to behave yourself?”

“Oh for fu-“

“Daisy?” Jesse cuts her off, dead serious and so easily authoritative that Donna’s legs rub closed despite the inappropriate context. He’s not all sweet boy and needy young heir and it gives her shivers. “I mean I don’t want even a raised middle finger outta ya, you hear me? Just imagine whatever you do is gonna be plastered everywhere, think about that and we’ll go. We got a deal?”

Daisy seems to weigh her anger at her brother’s bossiness with the dire need for something besides hospital food and after twenty tense seconds of belligerence she gives in with a hoarse, “Deal. Gosh it’s not such a big thing, relax.”

That night Donna’s love for them gets cemented. They’re only licking their fingers of sticky sauce and ordering five different smoked briskets to try but the kids make conversation like they’ve learned a bit of everything from everywhere. Which in retrospect, Donna assumes that maybe they have, exposed as they were to the best and the worst, but she didn’t expect it to be so natural and kind, so outwardly focused where Jesse pulled anecdotes about the Korean War from her dad she’d never heard and a mention or two of Ma from happier times after one of Rosalee’s queries.

Everyone just talks, talks about the stuff they want to talk about but usually don’t. It’s cathartic and Donna hasn’t seen her daddy so recharged in ages. Jesse ends the night digging in his deep pockets for something that ends up being a guitar pick.

“I-it’s my d-daddy’s, sir,” he stammers as he puts it in Donna’s father’s weather palm, “wish he were here to swap stories but I-I-I thought maybe you’d like it. Till you can m-meet him.”

Her daddy takes it gratefully and thumbs over it with a fondness Jesse has seen a lot of folks show for the man he knows too well and they love more than seems possible for strangers. It never fails to humble him and reignite some apprecIation of his own for Elvis’ warmth that’s made it all the way into the heart of a middle aged vet from Waxahachie Texas.

“I’d sure like to meet the man someday.” Her daddy admits. “And thank ya for dinner, young Presley.”

“I hope you will meet him, I think ya will.” Jesse stammers and can’t bear to meet Donna’s surprised gaze, “We owe your Donna a heap, sir. Mama is about ready to come down here and eat her up she’s so grateful. And I uh, I intend to not lose touch.” he mutters the last bit and it makes Donna feel close to faint with hope that her father misheard as they go on to talk about how the press has treated Elaine Presley and eventually say their good nights. Jesse won’t meet her eye, just tucks her into his armpit like her short height mandates for a hug and says goodnight. After the heat of last night she thinks she’ll waste away from such propriety.

As she gets in the car to drive her dad home, working the shift, a bright light slices across their windshield and after the sparks clear from Donna’s dazzled eyes she realizes someone, probably with a professional grade flash, just snapped a photo of them. They’re ordinary people who had barbeque with the kids of a famous man and now they’re being stalked. It’s not fair to them or the Presley’s and her dad rages against the unfairness of it and how nice those kids were all the way back to his place. It keeps Donna from crying over the notion that Jesse went through all those motions this morning to make her think he liked her more than just a lay, and now it’s a sideways hug and a terse “goodnight.”

Jesse’s heart hurts as he drives the girls back to the center in Rosalee’s car, smiling softly as he listens to their protests against his ratty motel and noticing the car behind trailing their every turn. He knew that the rehabilitation was wrapping up and he knew they were getting sloppy at laying low. There’s been a countdown in his head that’s kept him going, after all, and they’re so close now to the finish line that he had burned out and fallen into Donna’s arms for the last leg. The fact it is the last leg makes him jittery with a thousand thoughts at once. The chief one is how unfair it all is.

For her mainly.

But if there’s one thing Donna taught him last night, it was to take a little time to hurt for himself. By the time he sneaks Daisy back into the Center under a cloak of darkness and drives Rosalee to a hotel fit for housing a nice girl like his sister is, his heart just about wants to burst with hurt. He sends Rosalee up to her room with a kiss to the forehead and plans to have her car back in time for her to drive back tomorrow. He goes cback out to the parking lot and making a beeline for the beater Mercedes’ parked three rows down from his ride. He raps on the window and it doesn’t even take the gun in his boot to freak the unexpecting and nosy little bastard in the driver seat.

“Hey, brother.” Jesse greets as the guy actually rolls the window down in his panic on being confronted, “You like my route?” he asks congenially but there’s an edge to his voice that isn’t false bravado, “I noticed ya liked the barbecue, too. Wanna come up to my room and watch me sleep? Or were you gonna wait till I leave and try that with my sister? Hmm?”

The guy, like most guys in the nation, knows what Jesse did to the last fella who tried something with Rosalee, how his brother Jack and his friend Sam and the whole of Sam’s squad from the Memphis police just sipped bourbon while Jesse drug the fucker by the balls down S. Riverside Dr. It makes the smirking boy at his window a lot more imposing than his decent stature, hippy length hair and strong hands seem on first impression. “N-no man I’m here- I’m here to- uh-“

“Just hand me the damn film rolls and we’ll part ways, ok?” Jesse holds out his hand expectantly and the guy hesitates a bit. Sighing heavily, Jesse reaches into his back pocket for the persuasive shit and he can see the man’s panic show in his eyes again as Jesse reaches, only for it to be replaced by confusion as he’s presented with a badge of sorts. “This here badge was given to me by President Nixon himself, alright? Back when he asked to meet my daddy in the Oval Office, and he gave me this badge and it’s got the authority to demand such private property as photographs of my face and my sisters’ faces, ya understand? I wouldn’t wanna get you into trouble none by writing a damn reportc a. Just -hand ‘em over, k?”

The guy still hesitates, doubtful he’ll get off so easily and wary to give in and still get his ass handed to him. To be perfectly honest he doesn’t care much about some badge that some impeached President gave a rockstar’s fifteen year old kid . “Really, dude, I’m just here to meet a-“

“You really wanna see what my daddy gave me for my birthday last year?” Jesse asks with burdened patience and somehow, without it even being said, the man knows that birthday gift was a gun. Elvis Presley has been downright insane for some time now, it just fits. Jesse Presley, lanky frame bent to wedge into his low window like a looming specter in the dark doesn't look much more stable. He fumbles in the passenger seat and grabs the priceless rolls containing an excellent shot of that girl he’s been hanging out with, in her car with her dad as she pulls out of the barbecue place. It hurts the guy deeply to watch them go but he comforts himself with the thought of all the earlier snaps he’d managed to drop at the publishers earlier.

“Here, Jeeze.” the guy plops them in Jesse’s large palm and Jesse’s fingers curl over them elegantly while his pointer finger beckons still.

“Gimme the one in the camera, c’mon now. I’m not stupid.”

“You can’t shoot me-“

“No, I can do way worse, believe me. The roll, give it here!” Jesse’s ringed fingers make a gimme-gimme motion and the guy notices that those rings would make a mean and gaudy sort of brass knuckle if tested. His nose hurts at just the thought.

He hands over his camera and despite expecting the kid to drop the precious thing and stomp on it or something, all Jesse does is pop the lid and take out the roll. Adding it to the others in his back pocket along with that stupid and sentimental badge that belongs in an era back when his famous daddy still had the nation’s respect.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Jesse murmurs as he hands back the neutered camera, “and I hope you understand that if I ever catch you at this again, for myself or my friends, you’re gonna have more audits and subpoenas than you do donuts in that gut. Am I understood? I’ll bury your ass.”

It’s freaky getting threatened so effectively by a teenager. Like he’s old inside and knows that paperwork is scarier than a knife when you’re tired and broke. Most of these Presley’s belong in the loony bin or the MET, with Elaine Presley being the latter and the rest of her family the former. Either way, all of them need to be under lock and key, except they're too rich for that. And they’re certainly rich enough to make the guy’s

I life a living hell. Or very rich if he were to sell pictures of Jesse Presley necking a rehab nurse on his bike.

“Yeah ok, can I go?” the guy asks, exasperated.

“By all means, get the hell away from my family!” Jesse smiles and backs away, patting at the back of the guy’s car in farewell before the man hears a screeching sound of metal ripping off.

He frantically looks behind him only to find Jesse innocuously sauntering back to his bike in the dark parking lot. Suspicious of what the kid did, and suspecting a poked tire but too scared to get out and investigate while he’s still on the prowl, the guy waits and watches as the kid’s bike revs to life. Sure enough Presley steers the thing right past his window while waving the guy’s license plate like a giant metal envelope in his hand.

“Have fun without this, man, lotta bored cops on the lookout tonight!”

Feeling very good and very angry, Jesse waits at the red light, full aware the guy is watching him and when the fucker doenst get the hint to leave the parking lot ahead of him, Jesse revs his motor and bekons the guy over like a gentlman ushering a lady through the door first. Exhaust fumes have never smelt so sweet to him as he takes a turn trailing the guy until he’s well out of Dallas and nearing Arlington, well away from Daisy and Rosalee.

And Donna. Jesse’s blood boils and the hot summer air clings to his neck as he peels off into the dark of night and heads back to his motel with its greasy bedspread and its mildew shower where he’s gunked up the drain with his fervor for her large lips and sweet eyes and eyebrows that are like busy caterpillars dancing across her forehead. He wants her so badly it’s painful and now he knows what it’s like to be with her and held by her and accepted so readily, so selflessly, so sweetly -it’s worse than before. He can’t even bear to think of settling for shower steam and his fist. He falls into bed and rolls onto his belly, pulling open the bedside drawer before placing the license plate next to the complementary motel Bible. It makes him smile, Donna’s got a phone and he’s got a license plate. He keeps staring at his tin trophy knowing fully well tonight’s slumber is merely metaphorical. He’ll not be sleeping a wink.

He’ll be thinking of her. And how he’s gotta be a bastard for a little longer to keep her safe. And how mama’s about to have a baby and daddy’s about to remarry her and Rosalee just started to sleep herself after the attack and how Daisy will be out and testing herself and how John will be coming home to Ella and their baby and -he really outta visit Ella while he’s here in Texas. And while she’s got Marie staying with her. Marie could use to see another face. There’s so much ahead and none of it needs to involve Jesse fending off reporters so he can go make professions of premature love to a little Texan with a penchant for his pancakes and clitoris nibbles.

Like the planner his mama taught him to be, he steadies himself with a hand to the bridge of his nose and lines all these frantic responsibilities into a tidy row. And to the side are his wants. For a few years now those have gotten a little dusty and he doesn’t begrudge that, not really. But right now he makes another column to this mental checklist.

His needs.

Which comprise Donna and more Donna and Donna forever. It’s so simple, the roses ahead that may take years but it is simple nonetheless.

Go get the girl, that’s what they all say. Daddy had done just that.

Jesse thinks about that phone he got her this afternoon, assuming she’s hauled it out of the trunk by now. He’s already arranged for someone to hook it up by next weekend.

Step one accomplished. He wants to laugh at his own impatience. Step one, already done. Before the end of the week he can be calling her and she’ll be wrapping her fingers around the phone like he wishes she would somewhere else and he can make comments about how nice the barbecue was and she can ask about Daisy’s progress once released.

And they can keep that up. Till he finds a time to marry her. Hopefully not in some red letter year that involves his parents remarrying or making a surprise child.

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo

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