#that’s still so divorced from the things they do for each in part 1 i just can’t see it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

il-miele-che-scrive · 1 month

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the one where Y/n and Charles had different priorities

this is maybe a bit chaotic because I had one idea and unclear vision, but I like how it turned out eventually

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username1 How do you know? HOW DO YOU KNOW?!

username2 They have WHAT

username3 nah I don't believe in love anymore

username4 But they were together since even before Charles was in formula 1🥺

↳username2 Right? I thought they'll be together forever

username5 And there goes my hope for them to announce an engagement soon

↳username6 Sameeee except I thought someday they'll just have a secret wedding and not tell the media until weeks/months after

username5 Ngl that sounds like a them thing to do

username6 Well, not anymore

username7 My only question is why? 😭

↳username1 Literally because they seemed like a perfect couple. What could go wrong?

username8 Shit, that hurts more than my parents' divorce

username9 THEY BROKE UP AFTER 8 YEARS??

↳username10 what 😳

username9 They were together since 2016, I remember Charles saying this in some interview

username6 Yup that's right, he mentioned it many times, he was so in love with Y/n. I swear even recently he said after so many years he still falls in love more and more each day

username9 She was there for him when his dad passed, when Charles joined F1, when he signed up with Ferrari, when he won his first F1 race, I wonder what happened that made them break up so suddenly

username10 Oh so she was there for basically a huge part of his life

username5 I remember when Charles said "she's not a part of my life. She IS my life" about Y/n😭my standards for men have been high up in space ever since

username11 Wow just like Sainz broke up with his long term girlfriend last season. Let's just hope Leclerc won't pop up with a new girl weeks after that

↳username12 Charles and Y/n could be broken up for a long time now, we can only speculate when they broke up

username5 Imagine if Charles posted the Vegas vlog after their breakup 🥹 I'm not okay

username12 That was so unnecessary to say, I'm crying now

yourusername One for the money, two for the show, I never was ready so I watch you go

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username1 The caption guys...

↳username2 Does that mean what I think it means?

username3 What do you think it means?

username2 "I never was ready" he wanted to take things to the next level, but she didn't. "So I watch you go" means she had to let him go because they didn't want the same thing

username3 How could she not be ready after whole 8 years?

username2 Every person matures in their own time and that's okay, they'll both find someone else

username4 That's a Swiftie going through a breakup

username5 Noooo it's confirmed now 😭 as long as neither of them confirmed it I could stay delulu and think the rumours are just rumours

oldersister Thank you for babysitting Snow White 🐈‍�� (I wish there was a white cat emoji)

↳yourusername It was my pleasure! She's an angel (and a professional model)

oldersister Feel free to come over anytime you want, Snow White loves her aunt 🤍

youngersister HEY how dare you steal Y/n like that!! I wanted to take her out for milkshakes sometime

oldersister Chill, you can do that whenever you want I'm not stealing anyone

yourusername I'd love to go out for milkshakes!!

lilymhe No more Y/nLily in the paddock?

↳yourusername The paddock isn't the only place where we can hang out 😂

landonorris what are you up to on the 2nd pic? 🤨📸

↳username2 LANDO, DON'T

↳username4 LANDO IT'S TOO EARLY

↳username1 DONT RUIN OUR CHANCES TO HAVE Y/NCHARLES BACK

↳username1 Fuckboy Lando been doing too much fuckboying lately

username6 Didn't know she's a smoker

↳username7 Yeah, she was very secretive about it

username2 It's not like she was hiding it from y'all

username7 She was, probably because she would be canceled for being a wag who smokes cigarettes

username2 A grown woman can do what she wants

username6 It's better that they broke up, way healthier for Charles to not be around a smoker

username2 Wtf she was with him through bad and good times, supporting him no matter what, loving him, making beautiful memories together and you say it's good that they broke up because she smokes?

username4 May I add we never saw her smoking throughout the 8 years, she probably started after the breakup

username5 after the breakup or BECAUSE of the breakup?

charles_leclerc Leaving Bahrain with a good result despite some difficulties. Pretty good weekend if you ignore the braking problem, now onto Jeddah next 🏎

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username1 brAking problem or brEAking problem?

username2 How is that the start of the season and there's already something wrong with his car?

yourusername Congratulations on finishing P4🏁given the issues your car had, you did a spectacular job

↳charles_leclerc Thank you 😇 I tried my best, but felt like something is missing

yourusername I'm sorry :(

↳username3 WHAT IS Y/N DOING HERE? ARE THEY BACK TOGETHER?

username4 I wish I could believe they are, but I guess some people break up on good terms

username3 How could anyone end a 8yrs old relationship and be friends? 😭

↳username5 Jail for miss Y/n for leading fans on

username6 He looked so sad the whole time, during interviews and all that 😔

↳username7 Yeah he's either done with the car already or he misses Y/n that much

username8 DID Y'ALL SEE THAT ONE INTERVIEW WHERE HE GOT ASKED ABOUT Y/N NOT BEING IN BAHRAIN??

↳username6 WHAT INTERVIEW??

username8 A lady asked him why Y/n isn't here because she never missed the first race of the season before so it's surprising. He officially said that over the winter break they've decided to part ways due to focusing on different aspects of life🥲

username9 How do you figure something like this out after 8 fucking years? They wasted each other's time

username7 Calm down lol they grew and matured with each other, experienced how their love evolved throughout the years, no time you put into this is a wasted time

username10 I need to know what are the aspects of life they focus on and if they really are that different

↳username11 From what I figured from Y/n's post and Charles' interview - he wanted to get married, maybe even start a family and she wasn't ready

username10 Ahhh I remember how a few years ago Charles said he wants to have three kids. Such a shame Y/n doesn't want the same thing, but it's understandable they figured it now. They were kids themselves when they started dating lol

username11 Not really, they were both over 18 years old

username10 I know, but still that's a pretty young age and you might not know yet what do you really want in life

username12 Plus your brain develops until you're 25, they both turn 27 this year so it explains a lot

username13 I'm telling you, there would be no problems if Y/n was there, @/yourusername get your lazy ass on a plane to Jeddah

oldersister Amazing performance this weekend👏

youngersister Goodluck for Jeddah 🍀

username14 The way Y/n AND her sisters still interact with Charles on social media...

↳username15 Yeah like are they actually broken up??

3 weeks later

yourusername You'd be surprised if I told you why kangaroos are called kangaroos

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username1 What is miss doing in Australia during the race week?

oldersister I told you this story is fake 🙄

↳yourusername But it's funny so I'm gonna believe it

oldersister Kangaroo DOESN'T mean "I don't know" jesus christ

username2 I thought it does 😭

username3 Too much Tiktok I guess lmao

youngersister Glad I could have milkshakes with you in Australia 😌

↳yourusername Back at you although that was a strange excuse to go to Australia in the first place

youngersister It's just not the same in Europe

arthur_leclerc Y/n in her natural habitat🦘

↳yourusername I swear I was a kangaroo in a past life

↳username4 What is going on? Y/n and Charles broke up but they keep interacting with each other and each other's families

username5 I NEED to know which city it is

username6 Is that true all announcements on public transport are made with Oscar Piastri's voice??

↳yourusername Yup, I wonder how much convincing it took to get Oscar to do the voiceover

landonorris not a lot to be honest

username5 AHA so she is in Melbourne! Also, what are you doing here Lando?

landonorris do you wanna hear another aussie fun fact?

↳yourusername I'm scared but yes (as long as it's not about thongs)

landonorris do you know what an australian kiss is?

yourusername @/oscarpiastri please put Lando back in his cage

username7 HELP I'M GASPING FOR AIR, LANDO ALWAYS TAKES THE CHANCE TO SHOOT HIS SHOT

username8 Not gonna lie it pisses me off how Lando tries to "flirt" with Y/n in her comments

↳username2 Me too, it's not ethical

username9 I'm afraid Lando doesn't care lol and I don't think Y/n would ever consider going out with another driver considering Charles and her broke up on good terms

username10 I'm just wondering if norris ever tried funny business back when Y/n would come to races

↳username11 prolly not but hey now he's free to do it

username5 Just because he's free to do it doesn't mean he should do it

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username2 OH 😃

username3 So that's what she's doing in Australia

username4 Wait why is Jacob Elordi in Australia?

↳username2 Well, Jacob is Australian, why wouldn't he be there?

username4 HE'S AUSTRALIAN?!

username5 One thing Charles can't beat is the height 😩

↳username6 Is it worth it tho? Jacob treated his exes pretty badly, he's a cheater

username5 And? People change

username6 Bro, he cheated on Zendaya

username5 Chill out, maybe Y/n isn't even on a date with him, maybe they're just hanging out

username7 If I were Y/n I would enter my hoe phase now and Jacob is a good choice to start with

username8 THIS CAN'T BE TRUE

username9 Charles where are you? 😭 Y/n is a sweetheart, she shouldn't be with Jacob

username10 Sometimes I regret opening this app

username11 Didn't Jacob attend a few races? Is that were he met Y/n?

↳username12 Keep saying things like this and watch gossip unfold about how Y/n was waiting to leave Charles for Jacob

username13 Miss girl did a downgrade

↳username14 Is it a downgrade though if he's that tall?

username13 He can be as tall as he wants, but Charles was Y/n's soulmate and I'll always stand by that

username9 Plus the height doesn't make up for the personality

username14 What personality? 💀 Girl you don't even know him

username9 Someone who cheats on their partner clearly isn't a very pleasant person to date

username5 CALM DOWN GUYS we can't be sure they were on a date, it could be just two friends catching up

username9 what friends? I've never even seen them talk before and there were opportunities

yourusername Don't panic guys, I've been spending most of the time with @/youngersister and her aussie friends

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youngersister Yeah, I clearly didn't set you up for a date with a certain actor...

↳username1 SHE SET Y/N UP WITH HIM?!

username2 Evil mastermind

username3 How did that even happen lmao

↳yourusername Thankfully it didn't go as good as you'd wish it would 😌

youngersister No worries, I have other options up my sleeve

yourusername Keep them up there 🤺

↳username4 I'm confused is [younger sisters name] team Charles or not?

username5 She's just a menace it seems

username6 What's up with Y/n? She didn't wanna be with Charles, but she doesn't wanna move on. That's not normal

youngersister Don't make me set you up with Lando

↳yourusername You'd never, I know you think he's annoying

youngersister Yeah, but he gives me that vibe of a guy who can make you forget about your ex

yourusername That's called a fuckboy

youngersister You deserve a bit of fun don't you 🥳 I'm not saying you have to go straight back to being in a relationship

yourusername NO THANK YOU

username5 Lmao I love how they're having this convo here instead of on dms

username6 OR FACE TO FACE??

username7 Why does Y/n's lil sis support the idea of Y/n having a hoe phase? 😭

landonorris I was hoping you'd come see the race;)

↳yourusername Better luck next time I guess :)

a few months later

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username1 YEAH I WAS LIKE WHAT THE HELL???

username3 I can't defend Charles anymore

username4 Apparently her name is Angeliqué and she's a daughter of some French entrepreneur (a/n: I made her up)

username5 I didn't want Charles to move on, I wanted him to be back with Y/n 😭

↳username6 Worse thing is, Charles moved on but Y/n didn't. She went on this weird staged date with Jacob Elordi a few months ago and that's it

username7 NOOO 😭😭

username8 Charles better say sike now 🔫

username9 Please tell me it's a joke

username10 It truly feels like some part of me being torn apart knowing that Y/n and Charles broke up for good and he moved on

username11 Do we really know nothing about what's going on with Y/n? She must feel terrible now, I'm sure she saw that Angeliqué girl on TV

↳username9 What makes you think she would still watch races?

username11 It seemed like her and Charles are on friendly terms, so why wouldn't she still watch his races?

↳username12 She hasn't posted anything since Australia, went hella private, she ISN'T okay, I think she even stopped hanging out with Lily M

username13 I did some more research and that Angeliqué girl is 20 years old

↳username12 So we're supposed to believe that Y/n who is Charles' age wasn't ready to start a family, but a 20 year old Charles met weeks ago is? Charles, explain yourself

username9 Honestly the new girl seems just like a distraction from Y/n or a PR relationship

username12 You might be right, maybe Charles can't forget about Y/n so he went with "wanna get over, get under someone new"

username14 Nahhhh cuz she was all over Charles whenever she could and he looked so done 💀 that's definitely a stunt

↳username1 Literally, she was always hugging him, touching, holding hands, she barely let him interact with fans, Y/n was so much better AND she always respected Charles' fans

username15 imagine not being able to move on for MONTHS so your pr team finds you a fake gf

yourusername Excuse the inactivity, I've been watching Gilmore Girls

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username1 Very understandable in this case

username2 Our Rory Gilmore finally watching the og Rory Gilmore 🙏

oldersister I'm afraid Snow White might like you more than she likes me 😂

↳yourusername I'm the cool aunt 🤭

youngersister Excuse me???

yourusername I said what I said

youngersister And I don't agree with what you said

yourusername Would you watch Gilmore Girls with Snow White? Nope. I do. So I win the cool aunt competition

username3 Guys... When did Charles unfollow Y/n?

↳username2 He unfollowed?

username3 Yeah... He didn't comment nor even like, so I went to check and he doesn't follow Y/n anymore but she still follows him

username2 Ouch that hurts

username4 I don't care that Charles doesn't follow Y/n anymore, what counts is that she is happy 😊 look at the last pic, she's so adorable with Snow White

↳username5 True, she looks happy and healthy while Charles is out there having to put up with a fake girlfriend

username6 What's funny is that Charles doesn't follow Y/n anymore, but both his brothers and majority of F1 drivers do

↳username7 including the ones who followed her after the breakup 😏

username8 Don't try to make up new rumours, Y/n is single and happy

username9 Not to be mean but... It says something about Charles that he had to unfollow

↳username6 He either thought it'll help him forget or the new girlfriend made him unfollow

username9 Either way it tells us he's still thinking about Y/n

landonorris been a while since I last saw you

↳yourusername Let's see how long we can keep the streak up

username6 SLAAAAAY QUEEN

username10 I'll never be over the Y/nCharles breakup, I'm still going through it months after

↳username11 That's okay because so is Charles

username12 Tbh in Y/n's place I would just take the chance and go for Lando, just to prove that Charles' PR relationship is in vain

↳username2 That's not something Y/n would do, but if she ever did that I would support her

Username13 dating men is so much stress, why bother while you can sit at home with a cat watching Gilmore Girls instead?

#Charles Leclerc x reader #Charles leclerc imagine #Charles leclerc smau #F1 smau #F1 x reader #F1 imagine #Charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 social media au #Formula 1 smau #formula 1 x reader #Charles leclerc social media au

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lilithgreye · 3 months

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LOVE ASTRO NOTES

— volume one

Navigation: My directory // Tutorials

₊˚⊹ ᰔ I personally consider Neptune to be a love planet because it’s the higher octave of Venus and also because it represents fascination, compassion, and intense spiritual connections. Some people view this as bad for love because of it representing delusion but I think in order to manifest good things into your life and relationships you must have some level of delusion occurring. It’s why Neptune represents both manifestation and delusion. Planets topics typically coincide

₊˚⊹ ᰔ 8th house stelliums have a natural allure that draws everyone in and makes people addicted to being around them. Specifically the planets signs involved (Example: if you have an 8h stellium with the sun, moon, and mercury you will attract lots of leo, cancer, gemini, and virgo placements). 8h planets show who is most seduced, obsessed, and infatuated with us

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Venus in the 8th house people will love the darkest parts of you and the most vibrant parts of you. They wanna know all the horrible things you’ve done and the good things you’ve done. They will love you regardless because they become that infatuated with their partners that there’s nothing that could make them hate them

₊˚⊹ ᰔ People with Saturn in the 7th house don’t always marry late sometimes they just have age gaps in their relationships or marry someone that has Saturn-like qualities/Capricorn or Aquarius placements

₊˚⊹ ᰔ People with strong Venus to Chiron aspects can struggle a lot with their love life i’ve noticed. They tend to get divorced at least once in their life unless there’s placements or multiple aspects contradicting this energy

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Sometimes it doesn’t matter how good your synastry or composite chart looks with a person you’re in love with. If someone takes on a bunch of challenging energy from their chart and is at a low vibration/low point in their life then the relationship won’t last regardless. This is why i always say there is no “perfect synastry/composite charts”. I also don’t believe having a ton of “challenging aspects” (squares, oppositions, and sometimes conjunctions depending on the traits taken on) will make a relationship doomed to end. These only show problem areas or tension/confusion that can be worked through and being rewards (similar to Saturnian energy)

₊˚⊹ ᰔ A lot of oppositions in synastry indicates twin flames. This is because the universe is hypothetically yin yang, so naturally opposite signs will always attract. The oppositions aren’t complete opposites though (and yes i know the name of the aspect can be misleading) they do have differences, but are quite similar in their core as well as mirrors of each other in a way. Example: Opposite signs Gemini and Sagittarius are both energetic, curious, and intelligent but still have qualities that differ at the same time

₊˚⊹ ᰔ People view Saturn as something scary in composite charts and synastry and tend to forget that Saturn isn’t just the planet of challenges but also the planet of endurance and longevity. Many people in long term relationships (of all kinds) will have strong Saturn synastry or prominent Saturn energy in composite; Example: Capricorn stelliums, Aquarius stelliums, Saturn in the 1st house, etc (in composite). Sure Saturn can show obstacles in a relationship in composite/synastry, but it also shows areas where you both endure hardships and can show whether a relationship is likely to last long term

₊˚⊹ ᰔ An 11th house stellium in composite charts can indicate soulmates. This is because due to derivative astrology this house represents soulmates. It’s often looked at as a friendship placement but people forget this is also the house of soulmates, desire, and companionship

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Having Fama synastry with your partner can mean you are likely to gain more popularity when around them (Example: Hailey Bieber has a Pisces Fama and didn’t get famous from Justin Bieber but did blow up a lot more when she started dating him and he has a Pisces stellium)

₊˚⊹ ᰔ The Groom and Briede asteroid can tell if you’ll marry someone or not. The method I use has never failed for anyone i’ve tried it on. I made a previous post about it if you want more information — 🌷

₊˚⊹ ᰔ The Klytia asteroid (73) can tell if there is unrequited love in synastry. Example: Klytia conjunct Venus synastry can indicate that the Klytia person has unreturned love for the Venus person — of course this can be counteracted by opposing energies such as a strong moon to venus aspect

₊˚⊹ ᰔ The Valentine asteroid (447) in the 1st/7th house in composite charts can indicate being each other’s true loves. Even if you broke up this would be a relationship you never forgot and that stuck with you forever. With this placement in composite you would do absolutely anything for each other and sacrifice anything for one another

₊˚⊹ ᰔ The Yosakoi asteroid (10547) can tell about forbidden love in synastry and composite charts. Example: if you have yosakoi in the 4th house in a composite chart with someone it can mean your family tries to keep you away from each other and doesn’t approve of your relationship

#love astrology #astrology notes #astrology #astrology blog #astrology chart #birth chart #astrology community #romance astrology #asteroids #asteroid astrology

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jewishconvertthings · 7 months

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I can't remember if I've posted about this before, but tonight I was reminded by a class of a thing that I think may be helpful for some folks.

Because converting is *so* permanent and irreversible, and one should take it at least as seriously as entering a marriage (with the understanding that there is no divorce, only alienation), I think it's honestly a good idea to wait until you've had a major fight with your Judaism before you complete your conversion.

It's the same principle as wanting to wait until you've been sick with the flu together or had a major life setback or are lost at 2 a.m. on a road trip with your fiance before you actually get married. In that case, you want to know (1) what does this scenario bring out in them? (2) what does this scenario bring out in you? (3) how do those things interact with each other? and, most importantly: (4) how do you resolve it together?

With Judaism, it's easy to fall in love with Torah. It's easy to fall in love with an idealized version of your community. With the rituals and the liturgy and the music and the ruach.

It's harder to learn a point of halacha that hurts deeply and to be forced to reconcile what you know in your bones is right with the reality of the words of Torah and its interpretation by the rabbis. It's harder to meet your congregation in love and tochecha when they have fallen short of their vision and failed you in important ways. It's harder to force yourself to engage in mitzvot that you don't see the point in or that are boring or repetitious or do not spark joy.

And until you know how you will react when (not if) that happens, until you know how you will resolve it - or if you will even want to - you aren't ready to commit to something you can't just take off.

Sometimes it sucks to be a Jew. Sometimes Torah is more yoke than honey. Sometimes you're just not feeling it. And that's okay! That doesn't make you an imposter or a bad Jew; it makes you human. But you still need to address it, because that day will come.

I love being Jewish with all my heart, but there are parts of Torah that are like a knife in my soul. For me, the way I resolve it, is that those things in particular are the shards my neshama was sent to liberate the sparks from. We live in a broken, unredeemed world, and sometimes you should feel that, acutely. That is part of being a Jew, that you are sensitized to the world and its suffering. But it should still, in the end, lift you up. It should not break you, and you should not have to cut off major pieces of yourself to fit the role. Hitting that wall and feeling that pain before you immerse in the mikvah can really open your eyes to what kind of Jew you want to be - or if you actually want to carry this burden as well as taste its sweetness.

#jewish convert things #jumblr #converting to judaism #convert feels #convert advice

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reysdriver · 1 year

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Wife | S.B.

(part 1 to this fic) You and Sirius had been married in a wedding arranged by your pureblood parents, and he's the only one you think to go to after running away — sirius x fem!pureblood!reader hurt/comfort

warnings: abusive families (for both reader and Sirius), forced marriage, abuse, mentions of injury, angst

words: 2k

A frown sat still across your face while your mother tightly strung up the thin braids in your hair with bobby pins. You held back winces every time the metal poked into your already-pained scalp.

She fixed the last braid into the hairdo, then stood in front of you, judging coldly.

"Am I presentable, Mother?" You asked, snark laced in every word.

Normally, you would never dare speak to a relative like this, but today was your wedding day. Your bags were already packed for school in a week, so you wouldn't face her for a while. And, in two years, you were to graduate from Hogwarts and move in with the Blacks, so you really had nothing to lose when it came to your awful pureblood family.

"This attitude is exactly why your marriage prospects were so slim." She tells you.

They were slim, and your family had warned you several times while arranging the marriage that you would have to be with him forever. They said a divorce would be twice as shameful for your family name since you wouldn't be able to find a new husband. There was a limited dating pool for sacred twenty eight Gryffindor teens who were openly opposed to their family values.

You tried not to feel upset at the memory of all those times your family had called you a disgrace, claiming that's why you and Sirius Black were perfect for eachother.

"Well, there's nothing else we can do before the wedding, we should be on our way to the ceremony as soon as possible." Your mother announced curtly.

You stood up, your giant wedding dress feeling heavier than ever. You placed the veil over your face, the thin material clouding your vision slightly.

There was no turning back now. There was never any turning back since you had little say in the whole matter, but now there was really no escape.

Your mother surveyed your look one more time, lacking any visible emotion that should be present on one's daughter's wedding day.

"Don't slouch or speak without being spoken to. Don't embarrass our family name." She ordered.

Although you were young and had no intentions of really being married, you were counting down the days until you would be away from your family.

You said nothing in return as you started to walk towards the door. Your father was standing just outside, ready to walk you down the aisle.

He didn't say anything to you that wasn't already said by your mother, which made you want to roll your eyes harder than anything that day.

Once you started walking down the carpeted aisle, you felt as if all sound flushed from the room. It wasn't that the sounds had really stopped, it was just that you were so nervous, you couldn't process any noise.

Sirius looked handsome, to say the least. You felt slightly guilty for focusing on his looks, but you two were getting married. You were in the same classes at school and you had caught yourself gazing at him in the common room a few times, but never thought about marrying him before your parents set it up.

Your father let go of your arm, and you stepped up to the altar, parallel to Sirius. You looked into his captivating eyes and accepted your fate.

✦✧✦✧✦

Even though you were married, you barely spoke to Sirius. A few words during classes or in the common room, but that was it. You both thought it was best to push each other away and pretend everything was normal for as long as you could. A kiss at the wedding and a long conversation when you were together in his room after the wedding was all that had happened, and it was how you wanted to keep things for the time being.

Sirius was nowhere near the husband your parents had always wanted for you, but you were at a loss. You tried one last time to think of solutions as you stood on the Potters' porch. You knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer.

An older woman came to the door; you knew it was James' mother since you had seen her on Platform 9 ¾ several times before. She looked shocked at your appearance, and you couldn't blame her. Your eyes red and exhausted, multiple cuts on your face, and blotchy skin caused by a mix of snow and crying.

"Is Sirius here?" You asked with a sob before she could say anything.

"Oh dear, come inside, love. Quickly, you look like you've just been dragged here from across the country." The woman placed a hand on your shoulder, ushering you inside her house.

You let out another sob and more tears started falling down your face the moment she closed the door and you felt the house's heat. "I'm sorry." You mumbled.

"Don't be sorry, darling. Just come with me so I can make you a nice cup of hot tea."

While she walked you to the kitchen, she had introduced herself formally. She also recognised you, knowing your name and likely more about your family. It was rare for a person of pureblood status to not recognise you, so you weren't fazed by it.

You were sitting at her kitchen table, and she handed you a steaming teacup. You took a sip, ignoring how painfully hot it was against your tongue and your throat.

"Thank you." You sniffled, taking another scalding sip. "I don't mean to burden you, I just need to see Sirius. Please tell me he's here."

"He is, yes. May I ask why you need to see him?" She asked, standing up and walking towards a set of stairs.

You looked down shamefully, almost embarrassed to admit it.

"I'm his wife."

Euphemia's eyes widened, and although she had been nothing but sweet to you, you were afraid she was judging. You hoped she would understand as a fellow pureblood, but you knew that your families were vastly different and she likely chose her husband for love.

She opened her mouth, and you half-expected her to string insults at you and your family. Instead, she looked to the top of the stairs and called for Sirius. "There's a girl here who's asking for you."

You heard a laugh from James and Sirius, followed by two sets of footsteps coming down the stairs. When they reached Euphemia, she directed Sirius to you, telling him 'your wife is in the kitchen'.

Sirius walked into the room, and he looked heartbroken to see you. It took just barely a glance for him to understand what was happening. You were going through the same thing he was just a year ago.

Your head dropped, once again feeling a needless feeling of shame overtake you.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled as he walked towards you. You weren't quite expecting him to embrace you in a tight hug, but he did, and you weren't going to push him away. "I'm sorry, Sirius. I just had to get away from them. I didn't know where else to go."

He placed a gentle kiss on your hairline as he rubbed your back. "Don't be sorry, love. I understand. You made the right decision to come here."

He unwrapped his arms from around your torso and looked at your shaking figure. You could see he pitied you, and that felt awful. You had been raised to never let anyone take pity on you.

Euphemia stood at the other side of the room with a raised eyebrow. "Sirius Black, why didn't you say anything about being married?"

He turned to her, about to explain when you rushed to his defence. "It's not his fault, Mrs. Potter. We both just wanted to pretend it never happened for as long as possible. That was a decision we both made right away."

"We don't wear the rings at school, and we barely even talk to each other." He added.

"Well, that's a problem." Euphemia told him. "If you had shown you cared about this poor girl, maybe she could have escaped her family before it escalated to this! You could have taken her with you when you first came here."

Neither you or Sirius were going to argue with the woman. She walked towards you with concern in her eyes, then stopped to examine you just as Sirius had done a few seconds previous.

"We need to get you cleaned up, healed in any way we can, and into some warm clothes. You can stay for as long as you'd like."

You didn't want the family to go through any trouble for you. "No, I don't want to be a burden."

"Stop that, darling. You should stay here, we'll be more than happy to give you anything you need. And what you need first is to get healed, come with me. I can fix you up just fine."

You stood up, ready to go wherever she wanted to take you, but Sirius placed a gentle hand on your wrist that made you shift your attention to him.

"I can take care of her, Effie." He told her.

"Don't be ridiculous, Sirius. As much as you want to help, this is important and needs to be taken care of by someone with experience."

"I do have experience. I was in her place just a year ago. I know exactly what she's going through."

His hand kept its place on your wrist, but he loosened his grip. His eyes were soft and gentle. Both you and Euphemia could tell her really did want to help. He was almost pleading silently, and who were you to decline your husband of that?

Before you could accept his offer, Euphemia spoke up for you, not willing to argue any more as long as it helped you.

"Alright. I'll get James to make up a guest room for you, dear."

She walked ahead, instructing James to prepare a place for you to sleep while you and Sirius stayed back on the main floor.

Breaking the tense silence between you, Sirius apologised. "I'm sorry, she's right, I knew what your family was like and I left you there. I should have cared for you."

"Don't be sorry. You didn't need to do anything, I wasn't your responsibility."

"You're my wife." He said, soft desperation soaking that last word. "And I'm your husband."

"Sirius, we're strangers, classmates at best. We don't even speak at school, let alone invite each other to run away to safety together. Our laundry may have been mixed up before, but other than accidentally sharing ties, we're not close at all."

"I wish we could be. I always have."

You were shocked by the confession. For practically being strangers, that was quite an admittance of feelings. You could already feel the tears coming back to your eyes and you didn't quite know why they were so insistent on falling now.

He continued on. "I was too proud to admit it before. All because you were like me and our families chose us for each other. I've always watched you read in the common room and tried to muster up whatever I needed to ask you to be partners in class, but I was just so focused on going against my family to get close to you. I'm sorry."

"Again, you don't need to be sorry." You said. You weren't sure that was true, but you had thought the exact same thing about him a few times throughout the years, so you couldn't blame him at all. "I just want to go upstairs, and we can talk more later."

"Okay, let's get you fixed up, then."

He gave you another sweet kiss on the forehead, then he wrapped his arm around you while you walked upstairs together.

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black imagine #sirius black fluff #sirius black angst #marauders fluff #marauders angst #hurt/comfort

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jjungkookislife · 4 months

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Quarterly Fic Rec List 2023 #4

Hello! This is the last list of 2023! These are the wonderful fics I ended my year with! I hope you enjoy them! If anyone would like to be removed from this list; please let me know! As always each of these fics has its own content warnings, and most, if not all are 18+ so Minors Do Not Interact!

Seokjin

daydream @joonie-beanie

summary: Your literature professor has a bit of a…gift. A gift that let’s him see other peoples thoughts when he wants to. And despite the fact that he warns his class openly about this gift, one day you forget, and find yourself in a bit of pickle when Kim Seokjin reads your mind, and finds you imagining some not so school appropriate scenarios…involving him.

pink panther @gimmesumsuga

summary: The one where your boss, Kim Seokjin, tries to show you how beautiful you are

9 months to fall in love @floralseokjin

summary: It seems like everyone around you is either already in love, or in the process of falling, and while normally you couldn’t give a damn, finding out the co-worker you’ve had a teensy crush on is dating someone else at the office seems to sucker punch you right in the gut. It’s stupid, and you’re irritated at yourself, but you can’t seem to shake out of the funk you’ve fallen face first in. Feeling lonely and heartsore, and mad for no reason, during drinks with your best friend you spot a man at the bar. Tequila confident, you make your way over to the stranger, and successfully one thing leads to another. The next morning you leave before he’s woken up, feeling satisfied in one way, but still as discontented as ever. Telling yourself it was an inebriated mistake, you quickly try to forget about it. Only, three weeks later that night comes back to haunt you – in a very unescapable way…

dream come true @sugaurora

summary: Since your brother had warned you years ago that his best friend Seokjin was off limits, you’d only allowed yourself to safely fantasize about him in your dreams. You’re not sure why tonight his lips feel so much softer and his hands so much warmer than usual, but you’re also not about to complain.

whole @yoongiphoria

Yoongi

can't afford love @dollfaceksj

summary: Your childhood dream of having 2 children in a big house with a blooming marriage by this point in time has been eliminated the moment divorce came knocking at your door. With only one child and finding yourself back at square one, you ask your ex-husband—Min Yoongi—if he’d be down to fulfill 1 of these 3 things on your childhood’s bucket-list. And no, it’s not giving you a big house.

u suck !! @kithtaehyung

summary: Jimin’s cul-de-sac is filled to the brim with autumn leaves, trick-or-treaters, and halloween spirits. but the scariest part of the night? yoongi himself. and the way he looks downright sinful in his costume.

three tangerines ^

summary: throughout high school, you sometimes caught glimpses of your brother’s older friends: some of them were sweet, some of them were smart. but the one closest to him? that guy was a total f*ckboy from day one. after a foray of horrid relationships spanning years - ending with one that broke up with you for an alarming reason - you needed advice on what the hell you were doing wrong… and this wasn’t a conversation for anyone sweet or smart.

broken pt. 1 ^

summary: chilling conversations prolong things even further… until everything goes to hell.

ghostface killers @gimmethatagustd

summary: You’ve had your eyes set on Yoongi for as long as you can remember. What you didn’t know is that he’s had his eyes on you, too.

red & white @sweetestofchaos 💜

summary: you and yoongi have something to share this holiday

Hoseok

spookie coochie @gimmethatagustd

summary: The only monster Hoseok wishes you were interested in finding this Halloween season is his monster c–

drink champagne in my airplane @bangtanintotheroom

summary: Your friend Hoseok decided to use his excessive wealth for good and take the both of you on a much-needed vacation. The flight was meant to be relaxing until he broke out one of his most expensive bottles of champagne.

a holly, jolly crisis @kpopfanfictrash

summary: At this time last year, you thought you had it all. A kick-ass screenwriting job for the hottest TV show in LA, an actor boyfriend whose career was taking off and an affordable apartment with not one, but two bathrooms. Fast-forward to now and you’re single, soon-to-be jobless and searching for a way to scrape together January rent. Everything seems to be falling apart, which was why you told your family you weren’t coming home for the holidays. Enter your little sister, Sara, who recently became engaged to her boyfriend, Yoongi and needs you home to celebrate. The biggest problem? Returning home means you’ll be forced to face everything and everyone you left behind, including Yoongi’s best man – and your ex-best friend, Hoseok.

12 lays of christmas @minisugakoobies

summary: Your brother’s best friend Hoseok really likes your cookies

it's a promise @sahmfanficbts

arranged marriage au

Namjoon

close, closer, closest @augustbutwinter

summary: you know your soulmate is close, but you haven’t met them yet. every day your counter goes up when you pass that one station. until one day it doesn’t.

make an effort @7ndipity

summary: When you ask Joon to be your fake boyfriend, he ends up finding out about your very real crush on him. Luckily for you, the feeling’s mutual.

a word from our sponsors @ugh-yoongi

summary: you’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it.

Jimin

cloud nine @suga-kookiemonster

summary: “he’s here again,” viv whispers. “you know who. the hot guy who’s totally into you.” and he is hot--devastatingly hot enough that you know he can’t actually be into you, because the universe simply doesn’t work that way. that still doesn’t stop your heart from pounding when he smiles at you from across the room.

menace @eoieopda

summary: Far and away the worst of your brother’s friends, you added Park Jimin’s presence in your life to the long list of grievances you held against Seokjin. Too bad you can’t keep your hands off him.

crescent bound @parkhabits

summary: One night you’re having the best hookup of your life and the next you’re being told that the little mark on your neck is more than just a hickey and that Park Jimin was more than you expected too.

the dark side of the moon @dovechim

summary: falling in love at first sight is cliche, not until it happens to you on a dark night in a lonely alley. but you’re only human, while Park Jimin is Alpha of his pack; it could never work out. so you resort to pining for him like a wolf howling at the moon, but when Jimin goes feral, that’s when everything changes.

a remedy for mondays ^

summary: all you wanted was just one day off work. but for that to happen, you need to invent a plausible reason. and then somehow, somewhere along the way, things get out of hand, and now people think you’re having a baby with your co-worker Park Jimin after a one-night stand. confused? join the club.

heavy petting @kittae

summary: Your boyfriend is not just a cat hybrid, he’s also very needy! When you come home from work and you expect him to be all over you, you’re fairly disappointed to find he prefers a nap over some well-deserved quality time. You’ll make sure to pay him back for that.

the devil in his details @johobi

summary: Evil comes in many forms. In this instance, it’s a 5′8″ pretty-boy with an even prettier dick. And you’re the form you want him to come in.

me, you, and this thing we have between us @boymeetsweevil

summary: You’re pregnant and jimin is…happy about it

devil's advocate @7cypher

summary: You had met the devil on a hot summer day. He had shown up in a red polo, red cap, and white sneakers on his feet. That day, you had invited your devil into your home and he hasn’t left since.

no strings @kpopfanfictrash

summary: It started off as such a simple question. How to know if you’re bad in bed? Of course when you asked, you didn’t imagine Jimin would actually answer.

the ten days of ex-mas @kpopfanfictrash

summary: Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling. Jimin Park, star right winger of the NHL and (until recently), the love of your life, has a very large problem. Despite the courage he regularly shows on the ice, in his personal life, Jimin is kind of a coward. When you broke up this fall, he could barely admit it. Not to his neighbors. Not to his friends. Not even to his family, who are expecting him home for Christmas. In a desperate plea for more time, Jimin begs you to pretend you’re still dating – and to his surprise, you agree. Faced with a second chance, Jimin is determined not to squander it. If only fixing a relationship were as easy as falling in love.

Taehyung

midnight @sailoryooons

summary: Taehyung loves being your prince charming, even if it means trying to find where you’ve wandered off to in the middle of a Halloween party without your shoes.

the holi-date @kpopfanfictrash

summary: When your ex-boyfriend becomes engaged to his new girlfriend at your annual Holiday party, you admittedly are not in the best place. Which explains why you down six shots of alcohol, enthusiastically drop it low on the dance floor and – oh, yeah – tell everyone you are also dating someone. The only problem? You are obviously not. Good thing your neighbor happens to be cute and in need of a ride to work every morning.

of lace and lust @hobidreams

summary: friendship rule number one: don’t imagine how amazing your best friend’s cock would feel inside you. except that’s all you can think about after accidentally discovering taehyung’s kink for panties. specifically, the lacy ones you’re so fond of wearing.

hush @suga-kookiemonster

summary: four seats, five bodies. “careful, sweetheart,” he breathes into the shell of your ear, hands tightening over your waist in warning. you lick your lips, pausing just long enough to ponder: what if you don’t want to be careful?

rotten angelcake @inkedtae

summary: she’s as sweet as angelcake; he likes her honeyed rotten. this is a series following the complicated relationship between a sugar baby, sugar daddy and his corruption kink.

sausade @kimvvantae

summary: no one is born to be alone and no one can be complete in oneself - that’s why, in this world, every person has a pair, someone that complements their soul in every aspect. you, however, are an exception to the rule, for the mark on your wrist indicates that your pair has passed away way before you were born.

kinda hot @kimnjss

summary: you’ve always been cute, soft, tiny in taehyung’s eyes. but that’s changing one night when you’re accidentally sending him a naughty picture. forcing him to realize, maybe his best friend is kinda… hot?

Jungkook

jungkook drabble @euphoricfilter

summary: obsessed gf m/c and equally as obsessed boyfriend jungkook. he’s the light of her life, and she’s the reason he smiles

blessed with a curse @sweetestofchaos

summary: When your company throws a mandatory Halloween party, you aren’t thrilled. You’re even less thrilled when a delusional coworker ruins the party and places a curse on everyone because her crush, the resident werewolf, Jeon Jungkook, rejected them.

seasons don't fear the reaper @augustbutwinter

summary: life is short, they say. one day everyone meets their death, they say. how often can you meet yours before he takes you with him?

because i love you ch. 13 @readyplayerhobi

summary: According to society, Jeon Jungkook should not be with you. He should be with a younger, hotter and thinner girl instead of wasting his time on you. It’s a good thing Jungkook doesn’t care what society thinks then.

a holiday snowdown @kpopfanfictrash

summary: The Inn on the Hill is in trouble. Or that's what your boss, Namjoon, says during the last-minute All Staff holiday meeting he calls. You need money, and you need money fast, or his parents are planning to sell the resort. When no one can think of an easy solution, Namjoon proposes his parents' idea: a weeklong social media blitz with a celebrity guest. The celebrity? None other than Jungkook Jeon himself: two-time Olympic gold medalist, world-class snowboarder and the nation's sweetheart. What's the problem? You happen to have met Jungkook Jeon before, and sincerely hoped you'd never see him again.

all grown up @btsgotjams27

summary: A family reunion brings back the young boy you grew up with. Though he wasn’t the doe-eyed boy you once knew, he stood in front of you all grown up.

this is us ^

summary: you start to fall hard for jungkook.

OT7/Multiple Members

carnival of terror ch. 2 @theharrowing

summary: The carnival is in town, and it is unlike anything you have ever experienced. Will you make it out alive?

the gentlemen @honeymoonjin

summary: Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

of storms and vampires @wishesunderthestars

summary: During the worst storm you have witnessed in your life, a bat crashes on your window. When you bring it inside your cottage to take care of it, you realize it isn’t simply a bat but a baby vampire. Your past has come back to haunt you because Jungkook’s sire is no one else but Min Yoongi, who you had left behind when you disappeared five years ago.

oh, little red @jincherie

summary: You knew they warned you about that path for a reason, you knew you shouldn’t take it as a shortcut. You knew, but you were running late, and you did it anyway. Oh, little red, just what have you gotten yourself into?

Ateez

Seonghwa

let me keep you warm @sweetestofchaos 💜

summary: “Are you cold?” “A little bit but I’ll be okay.” “Come here, let’s get you all warmed up.”

#jjungkookislife fic rec list #jjungkookislife fic rec masterlist #jjungkookislife fic recs

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m1ssunderstanding · 2 months

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Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 3.3

John having to get high out of his mind because he knows he's invited Paul to come play with him is so so sad. These are the same guys who used to sit facing each other on a bed playing guitars for hours, and now this is them?

Is John calling Paul “Jack Lemon” a reference to “some like it hot”? Because if so, I have questions. Anyway, when your estranged best friend shows up to hang out with you and a bunch of people, talking about being in love again and getting jizzed on is extremely normal and acceptable behavior.

This jam session is so fucking painful though. Paul's doing his best to just push through and get them to actually play something and John's just too far gone.

My theory: there's two reasons he did this. 1. He's avoidant and the last thing he's going to do is let on how bad he needs John in his life and how scared he is that if John gets back with Yoko that that'll be difficult. And 2. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't. If he'd kept it from John that Yoko wanted him back and later John cried to him about how much he missed Yoko or something? Paul can't have that.

John singing a snatch of Yesterday before a take of “Whatever gets you through the Night”??? Did either of them ever write a song where they weren't thinking about the other? Did they ever have a minute of peace without the other rattling the bars of the cage in his brain?

“Hold me Darling, come on, listen to me. I won't do you no harm.” Duh it's about Paul. Oh my gosh.

And with Bless You I'm always so torn. There are so many obvious references to Paul which the doc points out beautifully, but situationally it could also be about Yoko. Maybe it's about both of them in the same way that don't let me down is about both of them.

Anyway the cosmic visuals are gorgeous.

Why'd you have to phrase it like that though? Twice?

Hall of Fame moment. It's a high point for him career-wise and he chose to pull Paul into his spotlight. Not only to sing Paul's song, not only to name-drop him, but to publicly call him an official romantic title. Not “boyfriend” or “ex-wife” which both could've been much more mocking if that's what he was trying to do. But “fiance”. It's official and respected, but it's still got the lustful, unsettled, connotation that something like “husband” lacks.

Johann Weener, everyone. What a loser.

Everyone who still refers to Lennon Remembers like it's the fucking Bible listen to this. It doesn't go on for the next five years, let alone fifty.

John refusing to walk to blocks to sign the papers when George and Paul flew over the ocean. And only on the basis of astrology. He really didn't want the divorce. My heart aches for him. But he made his bed as they say.

I'm putting on my tinfoil hat again here, but I do just have to point out that one of John's first songs, “Hello, Little Girl,” has a line that goes, “you never seem to see me standing there”. And the earliest draft of WISHST, which was started soon after, answers that line. “I saw you standing there.” (Yes, it said you originally, not her). So maybe. Just maybe. That song wasn't just a Paul song, but a song that John knew Paul had put a message in for him. Okay, I apologize for the insanity. On another note, I do wonder if he ever found out what Paul thought of that.

Interviewer: ≈ at this point, do you like writing by yourself, or do you want to write with Paul again?≈ John: ≈well it's a bit of both. It's the same for Paul. We were talking about it a week ago. Okay, cool. So they definitely talked openly and honestly about potentially writing together again.

John, about their partnership, “There was always the feeling that someone was there if you needed it.” Paired with the gayest picture ever taken and then Paul singing “if I can do anything at all, let me help.” Thanks. I hate it.

John was so excited for New Orleans! What happened? I mean I have my theory based on May's book and the sudden shift in behavior. But it's pretty dark.

You know how crazy Paul is about John in interviews now? How he can't seem to keep John's name out of his mouth? John was worse in the seventies. He's promoting his Rock’n’Roll album, talking unprompted and romantically about how he met Paul, when the interviewer reminds him what relationship he's supposed to be romanticizing right now. So John remembers too and dedicates the album to Yoko who he's just got back together with.

Biconic quote.

Interviewer asks, after John's brought him up, if John's pleased with how well Paul's doing. John expresses his relief that Ringo has "found himself a niche" and then

I really do think that last bit sums up a big chunk of how John feels about Paul, and why he feels alright playing dirty against Paul or slagging Paul off. Why it would have been the furthest thing from his mind that Paul actually struggled or was insecure. Why Paul had to remind him, “I'm only a person like you, love.”

What an insane thing to think, let alone say. What if Julian had heard that? I'm pretty sure Julian and Paul weren't in contact, really at all, until the eighties, right? So John's doing better than he is at this point (I mean he's his dad, he should be). John is insecure about every possible thing and compares himself to Paul in every possible way.

Baby. He needed some serious help. The thing that sucks about being ahead of your time is that you also have to live in a world that's behind your needs.

And then. “There's always a friendly tv channel to turn to that's going to make you feel less alone.” I wonder if Paul “Call Me Back Again, John I know you're not that tired from the baby just let me in the fucking door” McCartney heard this? It's possible with how obsessive they were, but it's also impossible with how busy he kept himself.

Okay, here's the first story we've been missing about Paul experiencing negative emotions. And, of course, as always in this doc, it's paired perfectly with “Don't Let it Bring you Down” which is the musical mission statement of Paul's clenched-jawed smile philosophy.

"I tend to get a bit absolute in my statements." Yes, John. Yes you do. Another quote that Big Lennon fans should keep in mind.

John on the three weeks he took to decide if he wanted to continue the band after the first Hamburg trip: The others were mad because we could've been making money. Yeah, John, Paul suddenly had to work in a factory after he'd thrown away an educated, white-collar career (the first in his family) to be in your band. I'd be pissed too if you just didn't even bother to call. Anyway I just hate how casual John is about it. Someone who never had to worry about money is just never going to get that.

John doesn't even remember a ballpark number of how much they were making. Paul remembers exactly bragging to his professors that he was making fifteen a week in Hamburg. Sorry to go on and on about this right before Paris, but to me it's an important difference between them.

Anyway, the fact that Paris was more than just a vacation for them. The fact that – according to Stuart and John at least – they might not have come back. It's dizzying. They really thought about just running off together. I wonder what made them decide to come back and continue the band.

No offense if you do, but I don't personally believe in this stuff. What would the motivation have been for the tarot reader to tell him that? Either way, fuck him.

Gosh the live version of “Call Me Back Again”. You feel it, physically, how bad he wants this phonecall. And the desperation from such a successful man is fantastic. Literally, John, how did it feel to be the only man in the world that could get Paul McCartney to beg? “Pretty baby” “what can I do?” “Boohoohoo babe.” “I tried the operator, but I just can't get through.”

Reporter at the Wings over America tour: No John Lennon, no George Harrison, and no Ringo Starr, just Paul McCartney. And for everyone here tonight, that seemed to be plenty! Obviously he's loving this praise after all the negative press. Anyone would, and Paul needs it more than most people actually. But I bet part of him is like “stop. Don't say it like that, they already hate me enough as it is.”

How many times has John admitted that he finds Paul attractive? “It was no surprise, you know, when the kids – girls saw him, they go ‘ooh! Ooh!’ right away, you know?”

“I know it's true. It's all because of you.” Playing over this? Are you kidding me? Anyway I've never seen the picture version of this, so I thought I'd screenshot it.

But actually, in a way, the original written lyrics to Now and Then are less depressing than what he sang on the demo. “I know it's true, I'm still in love with you, and if I make it through, it's all because of you,” is obviously sad because they're both married to other people. But at least in that version, John's saying his own personal resilience to life's struggles comes from his relationship with Paul, which is nice. Whereas when John, who is sliding into a self-hating deep depression I'm comparing himself to Paul's phenomenal success, sings “it's all because of you” in a general sense, it almost feels like a callback to the ‘I'm shit and I couldn't do anything but be a Beatle (and ride Paul's boat)’ quote. Which is heartbreaking. I wish he could've recognized his own genius.

But yeah either way it's enough to make your heart heavy. If anyone needs a good cry, just go to the last five minutes of this. That should've been the now and then music video, but Paul's too scared of feelings. Which. You know. Considering how much it affects me, I can't even imagine how much it affects him. So he gets a pass.

“Why must we be alone? It's real love. It's real.”

#mclennon #paul mccartney #john lennon #the beatles #ringo starr #george harrison #understanding lennon mccartney #ulm

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topguncortez · 4 months

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Are You With Me | | Chapter 3

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: Jake and Y/N fight over the hospital bill and whether its a good idea to keep the kids on Jake's insurance or night. Jake still has issues with Miles. Ella makes a decision in the course of her treatment.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: medical inaccuracies, divorce, fighting, cursing, childhood cancer, mentions of childhood death

Jake had made a joke once that Eli was the cheapest baby they had. Said joke had earned him a glare that was fierce enough to send a shiver down his spine. Y/N had mastered the “mom eye” after having two kids.

But, even though Jake’s joke was done in poor timing, he was right. Having a baby, although not planned one bit, at home had saved them quite a bit of money. Jake had always found it comical that he was the best of the best. The 1% of the 1% and had some of the worst health care coverage in the whole United States.

“I feel like I need to take a loan out to pay these,” Jake rubbed his forehead, slipping his glasses off his face.

It was one of the rare moments that Jake and Y/N were both at the house. Y/N spent the day with Ella while Jake was at work and Alex was at school. Between Penny and Y/N’s mother Clara, they watched Eli for a couple of hours. Jake would then come to the hospital at night, staying with Ella while Y/N went home and made dinner and got the boys to bed. The Daggers had created a weekend schedule, each of them taking a saturday or sunday to stay with Ella so Jake and Y/N could both go home and recharge.

Though being at home was more stressful than watching their four year old getting pumped with toxins.

“Is that the bill?” Y/N asked as she walked into the kitchen after putting the boys down. She filled the tea kettle and set it on the burner, before pouring Jake a drink and taking it to him

“The first one, yeah,” Jake wiped a hand down his face, “Thanks,” He mumbled taking the rocks glass from her, “The ER visit cost thirty-three hundred dollars and insurance is only covering three hundred of it. The estimated total cost of care is around sixty-one thousand dollars.”

“Well,” Y/N swallowed, “I can always put Ella on my insurance. I get good-”

“No,” Jake sneered, “We agreed when we… we agreed when we divorced I would put the kids on my insurance plan because it’s cheaper.”

“Yes, but if this means compromising Ella’s care-“

“It’s not compromising anything!” Jake snapped causing Y/N to jump a bit in her seat. He scrubbed a hand down his face, “You got the kids and the house and everything else in the divorce. Let me help do this.”

Y/N nodded her head, “Fine,” She sighed, “We still have the rainy day fund.”

“Still not even going to make a dent in the payments,” Jake leaned back in his chair, “I’m tired of talking about this. How was Ella today?”

“Same as always,” Y/N shrugged, “Was fine in the morning before chemo, napped all afternoon and then threw up everything she ate. Her hair is becoming more of an issue for her… it’s becoming more noticeable.”

Ella’s hair had started to fall out as the weeks of chemo continued on. Jake and Y/N didn’t have the heart to shave it or cut it before Ella started therapy, wanting her to have the ability to make that decision for herself. But as the treatments went on, Ella’s confidence began to fade with each clump of hair that fell.

“Maybe we should just shave it,” Jake suggested as the tea kettle rang.

Y/N poured herself a mug, “No. She’s already losing so much autonomy over her own body. She should be the one who decides on her hair.”

“I hate to see her like that.”

“We all do,” Y/N took a sip of her tea, “But she was happy that Rooster and Dragon got to stay with her. Dragon mentioned something about watching Dateline.”

Jake chuckled, “Going to teach our four year old how to commit murder and get away with it.”

“She’s been stealing cookies and getting things she wants outta you since she was born.”

Jake couldn’t help it, he was a sucker for those big green eyes.

Silence fell over the two of them. It was moments like these where things almost felt normal between Jake and Y/N. Like the past two years had been a fever dream. That they had never spent a day apart. But then reality settled back in, and the awkwardness filled the air.

“I’m going to bed,” Y/N said, clearing her throat, “I put clean towels back in the guest room.”

“Thank you,” Jake nodded his head, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Jake.”

— — —

When Ella was born, she had a full head of dark curly hair. Y/N knew that she was going to have hair from all the heartburn she had experienced through the whole nine months. In fact, that was the first thing the doctor had called out in the middle of delivering the Seresin girl.

“oh gosh! she’s got a full head of hair!”

Y/N had always dreamed of having a little girl with gorgeous long hair, and she had been lucky to get just that. She couldn’t wait until Ella was old enough to sit up and her hair long enough that she could braid it and style it. Ella always had perfectly done hair when Y/N dropped her off for daycare. Ella liked to show off her matching bows or the intricate braid that her mother did to her classmates and teacher.

Miles had told them one of the most common side effects of chemotherapy was the loss of hair. Y/N thought maybe, just maybe, Ella wouldn’t lose her hair. They had gotten through the first week of treatment without any hair loss. But then week two rolled around, and it was the worst week of Ella Seresin’s life.

“Mommy! My hair!” Ella cried as she stood fresh out of the shower, with a clump of hair in her hands. Y/N did all she could to try and soothe her child as she pulled on the ends of her hair, more stands coming out.

“I know, baby,” Y/N fought back tears, “I know. It’ll be okay.”

For weeks, Y/N and Jake watched as Ella’s hair grew thinner and thinner. They switched from using a brush to using a wide tooth comb, hoping to save some of the frail strands of hair on her head. Ella knew that most kids on the floor didn’t have hair or wore fake hair. She knew that eventually, she would look like them.

“Do you want strawberry or cherry jello for lunch?” Y/N asked as she looked over the hospitals menu choices for today. Y/N wasn’t sure if it was because of stress but the hospital food wasn’t actually that bad. Plus, Val had kept Ella’s room stacked with snacks.

“Mommy,” Ella said.

“Yes, baby?” Y/N asked, putting the menu down and looking at her daughter, “What’s up, buttercup?”

“I want to cut my hair.”

“What?” Y/N was taken aback by her daughter’s words. Ella was wise beyond her years but this shocked Y/N to hear.

“I want to cut my hair. It keeps falling,” Ella said, touching her thinning hair.

Y/N nodded her head, “Of course, baby. We’ll do it tonight, when dad gets here. That sounds okay?” Ella nodded her head, a bright smile on her face, “Now, how about that jello.”

A couple of hours later, Jake was walking down the familiar bright colored walls of the children’s cancer ward. He always found it ironic that such a dark place was painted so brightly. Ella had only been there two months and already she had new neighbors on either side of her room. The cries of the parents haunted Jake at night and the images of little bodies being moved with sheets over their heads was enough to bring Jake to a panic. However, every time Jake walked closer to Ella’s door he was met with the beautiful sound of laughter.

A smile graced Jake’s lips as he heard Ella’s laugh and that familiar snort that always made her laugh harder. But the moment he opened the door, his smile dropped.

“Doctor Miles.”

“Daddy!” Ella cheered and sat up in her bed, reaching out for her father.

Jake walked over to her, greeting her with a hug and kissing her forehead, “How are you, bug?”

“I’m good,” Ella nodded her head, laying back in her bed, “Doctor Miles is playing Bluey with me.”

“I see that,” Jake looked over at Miles who was standing in the corner of the room now, “Where is Mommy?”

“Sent her for a snack,” Miles answered, “She’s looking like the walking dead.”

“Can we refrain from making death jokes?” Miles held back from rolling his eyes, “I’m here now, so you can go.”

“I said I would wait here with Ella until-”

“I’m her father and I say-”

“You say nothing,” Y/N said, appearing in the doorway, “Thank you, Miles.”

Miles nodded his head, “No problem, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ella, good job today.” He held his hand out for the little girl to give him a high five.

Y/N waited a moment until Miles was out of the room before looking at Jake, “Really?”

Jake just shrugged, “I had it under control.”

“I’m sure,” Y/N sighed, walking over to Ella’s bed. The little girl curled up next to her mother almost instantly, “Do you want to tell your daddy what you want to do today?” Ella nodded her head and then looked at Jake.

“I want to cut my hair.”

Jake’s eyes widened as he looked from Ella to Y/N, “You do?” Ella nodded her head again.

“The nurses brought some clippers and stuff earlier. I-I’ve never cut anyone’s hair so I-”

“I got it,” Jake answered, “I was cuttin’ boys’ hair in the bay at boot camp.”

“Okay,” Y/N said, feeling the familiar burn of tears in her eyes, “You ready, Elles?”

“Yes!” Ella said, a bright smile on her face.

Both Y/N and Jake walked with Ella to the bathroom where a nurse had brung in clippers, scissors, a razor, shaving cream and a step stool. Ella stepped up on the stool, looking at herself in the mirror that was covered with pink and purple flowers. Y/N leaned against the doorway, watching as Jake got everything set up, occasionally making funny faces in the mirror to make Ella laugh.

“Gonna start now, are you sure this is what you want?” Jake asked his daughter. Ella nodded her head, “Okay. Here we go.” Both Y/N and Jake took a deep breath as he grabbed a lock of Ella’s hair and lifted the scissors. The sound of the shears closing together made the loudest sound Y/N had ever heard as a lock of brown went tumbling down to the ground.

“You cut it!” Ella gasped. Jake’s heart pounded in his chest, then it relaxed as her giggles filled the room, “Do it again!”

Jake looked at his wife through the mirror, seeing her red eyes but the smallest smile on her face, “Let’s keep going.”

After every snip of the scissors, Ella giggled which made the whole situation somewhat better. Eventually Jake got to the point where he had to use the clippers. He gently moved them over her head, watching as the final pieces of hair fell from her head.

“What do you think?” Jake asked, as he set the razor down in the sink. It was quiet for a moment as Ella looked herself over in the mirror.

“My head is cold,” She said.

Y/N chuckled as she stepped into the bathroom, walking up behind her daughter, “We’ll get you a hat or two or-”

“Three!” Ella held up three fingers. Ella turned to face her mom, “Momma, don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Y/N said, as Ella wiped a finger away from her cheek, “How about we take a shower and then watch a disney movie?”

“Princess and The Frog! Daddy! Will you stay?”

Y/N looked at Jake, who was cleaning up the hair around the bathroom, “Yeah. Of course. Let me finish cleaning this up, and I'll sneak down to the nurses lounge to make popcorn.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said, sincerity in her voice, “Let’s get cleaned up, Elles.”

A strange feeling settled over Jake’s chest as he watched his wife and daughter. A strange feeling that maybe, just maybe. . . things will be alright.

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tsukinoakume · 6 months

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RW&RB MovieAlex vrs BookAlex: A Rant

I'm late to the party on Red, White, and Royal Blue for a dumb reason and now I'm obsessed with it. OMG I WAS SO WRONG.

I love the book. I love the movie. I also love the difference between them that I find myself obsessing over: the lack of June.

I love June. I'm also not mad that they removed her from the movie, because I honestly don't think they had the time to do her justice. The important thing is that when they removed her, they split her personality and scenes between Nora and Alex. And the result is fascinating.

Combining June with Alex gives us a calmer, more emotionally mature, competent version of Alex. He is definitely not the hot mess that BookAlex is. (Don't get me wrong here: BookAlex is my favorite character.) But now it's implied that MovieAlex is better at keeping his temper, handles his shit without being micromanaged, advocates for himself more, and I'm pretty sure the speech he gives is his own. Probably with help, but still. Also not having divorced parents means MovieAlex doesn't have BookAlex's abandonment issues. It's never said that his parents' relationship is perfect, but it's implied that he's had a stable family background. MovieAlex still has flaws and he's not Nora Levels of Competency, but he's definitely a lot more balanced. And this actually changes his relationship with Henry, just a little.

Namely in reference to my two favorite scenes:

1) Storming the Castle.

BookAlex is a ball of rage in this scene, and it's GLORIOUS. Yelling at the windows, aggressively dripping everywhere trying to ruin the rugs, making rude comments about Henry's ancestors. He is defiant. He yells, Henry yells back. It ends in tears, but there's a lot of anger.

MovieAlex by contrast is quieter, more hurt. He hardly yells at all. (I rewatched this scene like 20 times for Repeat to be sure.) He's determined, and he doesn't back down, but you get to see that split second of fear in his eyes that Henry is asking him to leave. There's a lot more emotion and tears in this version. It's ... sweeter isn't the right word. Bittersweet, maybe.

Downside: The lack of transition in the morning from the book. I miss Alex expecting to be dumped, and Henry realizing he doesn't want Phillip's life before deliberately making the choice to be with Alex. Also the comment on Alex's hair, which made me giggle.

2) The Museum Scene

I know a lot of people are disappointed with this scene, and I feel the need to argue about why it's brilliant the way it is.

In the book, they go to the museum because Henry has made his choice, and now he's showing one of his favorite places to Alex. He's the one who brings up the music. He chooses to fulfill his fantasy with Alex there, and he chooses to play a song that embodies the romanticism of their situation, about being in love and not being able to let anyone else know. Your Song.

In the movie, they go to the museum when Henry's still trying to decide if this is something he can have, and he's sharing a part of himself with Alex when he talks about his fantasy. Alex is the one who chooses to fufill it, so of course he chooses a different song. For him, it's a song about how easy it is to love Henry. I Can't Help Falling In Love With You.

I also love that they changed Henry giving the ring to Alex to Alex giving Henry his key in return. I love the symbolism of Alex keeping Henry's ring safe for him, of their two homes side by side. But I also love the idea of exchanging parts of themselves. I love that they have those pieces of each other when they're separated and the emails are exposed.

The book tells the story better overall because it has the time to, and the bickering and friendship between the boys is everything. The movie makes me melt over the flirting and affection between them. I can't pick one over the other because both versions of this story are wonderful.

But emotionally mature MovieAlex and how soft he is with Henry, making sure Henry's taken care of? I am WEAK for that.

#Doing this here instead of my author's notes #I have a lot of feelings about red white and royal blue okay?#movie versus book #both both is good #emotionally competent Alex FTW #red white and royal blue

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darlingshane · 5 months

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Salt of the Earth ~ Part 1

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x OFC

Summary: She was Carmy's best friend growing up, and Michael never looked at her as anything other than that until years later when she comes back to Chicago to start over. In the process, she turns his sorry excuse of a life upside down.

Content/Warnings: Friends to lovers, Fluff, Angst, Family Drama, Dysfunctional relationships, Implied/referenced drug addiction, Alcohol mention, Divorce, Pets, Pet names, Dialogue heavy. Undisclosed age gap (in my mind Michael is late 30s and OC is late 20s, but it's really up to your interpretation).

Word Count: 6.8k // 4 chapters // AO3 link.

A/N: This is set in the year of the Fishes episode on season 2. It starts in summer and slowly builds up to that Christmas.

— This was an anon request that I got a few months ago, I hope you're still around. I tried to fit all the ideas you sent as best I could. There's a bit of info dump on the first chapter, but I hope it isn't too off-putting.

Chapter 1: Best thing since sliced bread

Seconds stretch into minutes, minutes elongate into long hours on slow days like this at The Beef. Especially in summer when the air conditioner stops working for the second time in the middle of August. Any living soul that crosses that door must have a dying wish or be the devil themselves to adventure themselves to what has become Michael's personal hell.

It's been a testing year, and there's so much he can do to fix this place right now. While he waits for Fak to come check the damn AC unit, Michael tends the front while Ebra takes his lunch break.

Turning the paper's pages on the counter, he comes across an article about the extensive fires eating different parts of the country. A wretched thought crosses his mind as he reads – maybe it'd be better to burn this place to the ground and start over. He entertains the idea for a second until the door swings open, inviting more heat into the boiling pot.

He lifts his eyes from the words to find a familiar face approaching the counter. It's not Fak, but a much better vision of someone he used to know.

“Mayhem Maya.”

“Magic Mikey.”

That former thought of burning down this place disappears somewhere in the midst of that beautiful aura that saunters with her big brown eyes, long raven hair, nervous smile, and firm steps.

“It's been a while, Maybird.” Almost ten years since she set foot in this establishment. “What brings you to this hole in the wall?”

“Came to collect that meatball sub you promised at uncle Teddy's funeral, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

Ever since she moved to a different state, he only had seen her a handful of times when she came back for the holidays. Last time he saw her was at the beginning of spring, when her uncle, Ted Silva, passed away.

“I also had an interview at the new vet clinic on the next block.” She places her cross-body bag on an empty stool while she perches her ass on the one next to it.

“How's that going? Did you get tired of California already?”

“No, I love California. But I needed a change of scenery. It's been rough after… you know…” the divorce. She wasn't married for long, but she still can't bring herself to say the word.

“I’ve heard some of it.” He’s pretty much aware of how everything went down. Well, he’s got grapevine’s juicy version of the story, but he never heard her side directly.

Though Michael and Maya know each other as if they were related, they were never close confidants. She always thought he was the coolest guy in Chicago. And he always thought fondly of her, given their families association, and Maya’s close friendship with his brother.

Michael places an order for her sandwich and grabs a soda for her, while she explains she has two more job interviews later.

“Does your mother know you're back?” He folds the paper and props his elbows on the counter.

“She probably does.”

“Still not talking, huh?”

“It's not my fault she made me the black sheep of the family. She’s like vitriol on steroids.”

“Yeah? What happened at the wake? You left before I could say goodbye.”

Michael recalls the tension at the funeral, particularly at the wake when Angela Silva grabbed Maya by the elbow and took her youngest daughter outside the house as if she was still a child that needed to be scolded.

“Nothing. I barely said a word that day. Guess everything I do feels like a personal attack to her. I can admit that I'm not perfect, and that sometimes I've acted up just to get a reaction out of her, but that day she just went off again…” She pauses without finishing that thought to take a refreshing sip of her coke. “And that wasn't nearly as bad as the day I told her I was getting…”

“Divorced? Why can't you say the word? It's not Voldemort.”

“What the hell do you know about Voldemort?”

“How do I… Who took you and Carmy to buy those damn books? Have you forgotten?” Maya shakes her head. “You even tried many times invoking his name, so I was haunted by eaters or something like that. You two were real potterheads.”

“And you were just a pothead,” she laughs, stirring the ice cubes in her drink with a straw. “I totally blocked that out. We were just a couple of nerds.”

“I’d say!”

“Meatball sub!” Richie calls from the pass-through window and takes a second look when catching Maya in the joint. “Maya Papaya?!”

“Please, don’t call me that.” She scoffs while Richie promptly abandons the kitchen and goes around the counter to give her a welcoming hug.

“Did you know she was coming?” He asks Michael, as he props his ass on the bar.

“Had no idea. She just showed up.”

“Did you tell her about Carmy?”

“What about him?”

“He’s in Copenhagen.”

“Oh, I knew about that.”

“You two talk often?”

“Sometimes, I guess.” Barely more likely. They don't even text anymore. She's tried but there's been nothing but crickets at his end for months.

While Richie grills her about Carmy and what she’s been up to, Michael can’t help but look around the shop to notice, from every corner and wall, memories bouncing all at once in his direction. It takes him back in time to those days when she and Carmy were as thick as thieves.

Their shared history goes back to that same street their families have lived on for over thirty years… It’s still clear in his mind, like it was yesterday, when he was forced to babysit them when they wanted to go to the movies or trick-or-treating or the bookstore. That was a little annoying back then, now he fondly remembers all those times in summer, when they’d go to the convenience store to get ice pops on their bikes. Then they’d ride back and sit in the middle of the swanky rug in their living room and watch TV for hours. More than once they were yelled at by Mama Berzatto when she would come home to find melted colorful stains in the fabric. She would lose her shit. Carmy was used to it. Maya wasn’t, but the girl never flinched once cause Donna and her own mother were cut from the same unstable piece of cloth.

Maya and Carmy were really close up until they went separate ways for college. Their bond was something to admire. They had something so special that inevitably, Carmy fell in love with her. She was his best friend and confident. They kept each other's secrets, and Carmy thought she'd feel the same in return. It wasn't a crazy notion. They spent so much time together, everyone thought it'd lead to something more, but that never happened.

Mikey and Richie used to tease the youngest cub relentlessly. They tried multiple times to encourage him to ask her out, but he never found the guts to do it. Especially if it could potentially end their friendship. Carmy didn't want to lose that. Though he never confessed his feelings, Maya always knew. Even in her teens, call it a woman’s intuition, part of her already knew. Maya wished she'd felt the same toward him, but the heart wants what it wants, and she couldn't change that.

What was really fucked up was that she had the most ridiculous crush on the older Berzatto when she was a teen. While she knew he'd never look at her as anything other than Carmy's annoying little friend, that didn't stop her from daydreaming about it for years. It was a secret that no one ever knew and that was placed in a drawer at the back of her mind after she left Chicago.

After graduating, Maya and Carmy stayed in touch for a long time, until their calls and texts became less frequent. They followed different dreams that required a lot of attention and sadly their friendship got hurt in the process.

While she attended Vet School on the west coast, he became a chef on the east.

Maya thrived at school and work. She really went out on her own, and became the woman she always wanted to be. Unsheltered, confident, outspoken. She outgrew her shell and opened herself to new experiences and people. She loved it all. It wasn’t smooth sailing, but for the most part she was pretty happy with her choices.

And now she's back in Chicago, set on a new path and awaiting to see where it takes her.

She’s living in a house in Oak Park with her dog, Coco; Richie fishes out of her. Apparently, she got some money from uncle Teddy, and she’s invested it in a home for her and her beloved staffy.

“Does Carmy know you’re here?” Richie circles back.

“No, I haven't talked to him in months.”

“Why? Did you two have a fall-out or something?”

“There's no why. We're just busy.”

“Mike, help me out here. Weren’t these two fools supposed to get married?”

“Yeah, everyone thought you'd ended up together.”

“Man, I don't know what to tell you, we just didn't,” her head sinks between her shoulders.

“Just get over yourself and hit him up. The kid has been hung up on you since forever. It looks like things didn’t go so well with your marriage and all. You should take that as a sign, you’d never find anyone better than Carmy. The boy could really use some excitement in his life. And so could you.”

“C’mon, leave her alone. Go back to work, Cousin.”

Michael throws her a lifeline, noticing how miserable she looks every time Richie opens his unfiltered mouth.

“He’s not wrong, you know? You and Carmy… it looked like you two had something special.” Michael offers once Richie is back in the kitchen.

“It’s called friendship. You should look it up.” She points out.

“I have Richie.”

“Exactly. You have Richie. Why don't you two marry the other and leave me alone? If you think about it, you were as close to Richie as I was with Carmy. Even more. Should everyone assume you are in love with him? Cause that's what you're implying.”

“Touché. I'll drop it.”

“Look, as hard as it is to believe, there was nothing else between us. I was aware he felt something for me, but I didn’t feel the same.”

“You should give him a chance sometime. He might surprise you.”

It’s not the first time these two have been trying to play matchmaker between Maya and Carmy, and it’s bizarre to see they still do at any given opportunity.

“Okay, if I give Carmy a chance, you have to give Richie a chance. Those are the rules, Berzatto.”

“Oh, I've tried. He's not into me,” he remarks, amused, and leans closer to confess something in a lower voice. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

“Uh, sure.”

“He and Tiffany are having a baby. He just told me a few days ago.”

“What? You let him reproduce? I'll pray for Tiff.”

Chapter 2: Cool as a cucumber

Everything falls slowly into place as Maya settles back in Chicago. She secures the job at the clinic near The Beef, which is a huge relief after her rushed decision of moving back to her hometown without securing a job first. It was part of the plan all along to practice what she loves but never thought this would be the year. As much as she loved California, once her divorce was finalized she felt like something was trapping her there. And the money she got from her uncle gave her some leeway to improvise, get away from all that, and start over.

Maya is spending her morning going through the stack of unpacked boxes, finding a good place for everything, making it feel more homey. It's not a big house, but spacious enough for the two of them. The big selling point was the backyard for Coco to zoom around and cool down in her wading pool, which she loves. It didn't take long for the five-year-old pup to get used to her new neighborhood. They've even made a couple of friends at the park nearby.

A moment before the doorbell rings, Coco whines from her spot by the window, where she often sits to watch passers in the street.

“Who is it?” Maya playfully asks her dog as she makes her way to the front door.

Through the peephole, she sees Michael's profile as he inspects the porch.

“Hi,” her eyes widen as she opens the door. “Didn't know you were coming.”

“Yeah, I would've called, but I didn't get your number the other day.” But he got her address from Richie's intense questioning when she visited the shop.

“I knocked on two different houses until I got the right one,” he explains as Coco curiously circles around his feet, sniffing his pants, hitting his crotch with her nose in the process.

“No, Coco. Sit. How many times have we talked about no nut-tapping?” Maya glances at her with amusement as the dog sits on her haunches.

“It’s fine,” he snorts. “All dogs do that.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. But she’s not any other dog. I thought I had taught her better. So what brings you here?”

“This.” He offers the paper bag hanging in his hand. “It's just a little house-warming gift.”

“You didn't have to.” As she takes the bag from his hand she ushers him inside before closing the door.

“It's nothing, really.”

He glances around as Maya takes out the box from the bag.

“Wow, a set of knives? That's not nothing.”

“Everyone needs one good set of knives. But you can exchange them for something else if you want.”

“No. I like these. But I gotta warn you that I'm not much of a cook, and I'll probably use the same one for everything.”

“That's fine I can show you sometime though. Is she friendly? ” He points at the dog that keeps staring at him. “Can I pet her?”

“Yeah, she loves everyone. Go ahead.”

Michael cautiously pets the brown coat of her head as her floppy ears lower at the passing of his hand.

“Never pictured you with a pit bull.”

“Me neither. I always thought I'd be a cat lady. But I met her at this adoption drive when she was one, and she stole my heart.”

“I can see why.” Michael crouches down, and pets Coco with both hands. “She's really sweet.”

He lets her lick his chin a couple of times before standing back on his feet. Then they go on a tour around the house.

“It's still a work in progress. I'm thinking of painting a few walls, but we like it so far.”

“Yeah, it has good bones.”

“So you don't have to work today?” Asks Maya.

“No, we've had some trouble with the gas line, and we've been shut down for a couple of days.”

“That sucks. Now where am I going to get my sandwiches and coffee on my way to work?”

“Heard Starbucks is pretty good.”

“Shut up. Don't even joke about that.” She playfully shoves his shoulder as they go back to the living room.

“Are you doing something later?”

She shakes her head. “Why?”

“I don't know, thought you were having a comeback party or something.”

“I don't really have any friends here. And I don't feel like inviting my family yet. As you can see, I still have a lot to unpack.”

“Physically or mentally speaking?”

“Both,” she scoffs.

“Let's do something then? Just you and me. We could grab some pizza, or go out for a drink for old times’ sake?”

“Old times’ sake?” It's amusing, surprising and confusing his sudden interest in her. Maybe he can see how pathetic she thinks she is, and he's taking pity on her. Although, that was never Michael style.

“Yeah, c'mon, Mayhem. You look like you could use some fun.” He picks up a book that's sitting on top from the box opened by the couch that's titled — Dating Again with Courage and Confidence: The Five-Step Plan to Revitalize Your Love Life after Heartbreak, Breakup, or Divorce. “And maybe a rebound or something. You don't need a fucking help book. You only need me to show where to get the best guys, or girls. Whatever you're into.”

“Give me that. I don't need a rebound, a help book, or you for all matter finding me a date.”

“No? Then why do you have that?”

“My friend Paige thought I should give it a try.”

“Maybe she was onto something there.”

“I'm perfectly fine. Just want to finish organizing everything, focus on work and this handful I have right here.” Her hand gestures at Coco. “What are you so interested in my love life anyway? First you try to play matchmaker with Carmy, and now you want me to do what, exactly? Hook up with the first guy I see?”

“No, I'm just asking you to go out and have some fun. I know Carmy was the only friend you had here. And if I was in your shoes, I'd feel pretty lonely.”

“I'm not lonely, Michael. Do I miss my friends in Sacramento? Sure,” she admits. “But I don't wanna force anything. I'm just taking it slow. When the time comes I'll jump right in but for now, this is all I need. Really. Stop pitying me.”

“I'm not pitying you, sweetheart.”

“No? Then what is it? Where is this coming from?”

“I don't know… I've always thought you were the salt of the earth. And though we never really hung out together, I thought you could use… But I can see now that you're different, and that you know what you need right now, so I'll just shut up and back off. Let you do your thing.”

“Thank you. I do know what I'm doing, by the way. You don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine. But I appreciate you coming here anyway.”

“Yeah, of course. And I can help you unpack if you need.”

“Hm, if you don't have anything better to do, be my guest. We could grab a pizza later, if the offer still stands. Or just order some food.”

“Sure.”

Michael helps Maya unpack all the boxes and put everything in place in half the time it'd have taken her alone. They order some food for lunch and spend half the day talking and laughing until late in the afternoon when they decide to go out for some drinks to keep the good vibes going.

At the end of the night, she offers to drive Michael back to his apartment as a thank you for inviting her.

“Did you have fun?” Michael asks from the passenger seat as she pulls up in front of his building.

“Yeah, I did. I'm glad I changed my mind.”

“Me too. I didn't know you were this fun. You're nothing like I remember.”

“Yeah, I was kind of weird growing up. You guys probably thought there was something wrong with me. ”

“Nah, don't be so hard on yourself. We were all weird in our own way.”

“Uh-uh. No Michael Berzatto. You were the coolest guy back in the day, and you still are.”

“I don’t know about that,” he scoffs. “For the record… I never thought there was anything wrong with you.”

“You were probably the only one… Anyway, thank you for today. I know I said I didn't need this, but I guess I did.”

“You're welcome, Maybird. I'm glad you’re back.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Thanks for bringing me home,” he softly squeezes her arm before reaching for the handle to open the door.

“No problem.”

“You know you can call me if you ever miss your friends, y’know?” he throws casually.

“I uh…sure. I will.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she echoes back as he pulls the handle and the door opens.

“Have a good night, Michael,” she says as he gets one foot on the pavement.

“You, too, sweetheart.”

He closes the door and vaguely waves as she sets the car in motion and watches her drive away.

Chapter 3: Don't cry over spilled milk

In the few weeks he's been spending time with Maya, Michael has found himself enjoying her company more than he'd like to admit. Being with her grounds him. She makes him forget for a little while all that's wrong in his life. She's like a beacon in that immerse darkness that his sorry existence has become. Despite having her own set of problems, he's watched her rise above all that with poise. He wonders what it's her secret to her steadfast determination, even when her own family has disavowed her.

After closing shop, he dives into his stash to tame that brewing headache before driving to Oak Park to pay her a visit. She told him earlier via text that she was at Home Depot buying some paint to update the color of her bedroom and asked him to come over to hang out after work.

For some reason, he couldn't say no. Not even the storm in his head is strong enough to deny her request. He has a pull on him, tugging him hard like a dog tied to a leash in her hand, he can’t help but follow her lead.

When he arrives at her house, she's halfway done. Two of the walls shine bright new in a lavender tone as she starts working on the next one.

After having beer and playing a tug of war game with his new friend, Coco, Michael offers his help to finish painting the walls. He uses a brush to paint the corners, while she gracefully uses a roller like a pro with her denim overalls over a tank top, and her raven hair pulled up in a ponytail sprinkled with lavender paint beads. When she lifts one of her arms, he catches a glimpse of a tattoo on the side of her rib cage, leveled to the roundness of her chest that looks like the outline of a dog paw.

“What are you looking at?” She asks after catching him staring.

“You have paint on your chin.”

“Oh.” She wipes it with the back of her hand, but she just spreads the stain along her jaw. “I made it worse, didn't I?”

“Yeah.”

She shrugs it off and continues with the task ahead until the whole wall is covered.

“Is everything okay, Bear?” Maya puts down the paint roller. “You're quieter than usual.”

“Yeah, everything's alright.” It sounds so honest, he almost believes it. “It's just been a long day.”

“I'm sorry that I put you to work.”

“Don't be. This is relaxing.”

“Yeah?” She takes a step back and surveys how much brighter her bedroom looks already after covering most of the former downcast grey. “Is the color right? Do you think it's too girlish?”

Giving the room a once over he says, “it's a good shade. I dig it. It doesn't matter what I think or if it's too girlish, as long as you like it. Do you like it?”

“Yeah. I do.”

She dips the roller on the tray to cover another section of the wall.

“You never told me what happened at the funeral with your mom,” Michael leans on the stepladder, taking a short break.

“Do you really wanna know?” She glances over her shoulder.

“Yeah. Everyone does. I’ve heard some crazy stories about it. Thought I should get it straight from the source.”

“I never pegged you for a gossip girl.”

“I’m not. I’m just making conversation.”

She mockingly narrows her eyes, drawing a lopsided smirk, “liar.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna. But yeah, can’t help being a little curious about it.”

“I don’t mind telling you, but it won’t be as entertaining as those crazy stories people have made up.”

“I’m not here for entertainment. I just wanna hear your side of the story, Maybird.”

Maya lets out a heavy sigh and while keeping her focus on the wall she shares with him what really happened. She’s right to say that is not the best story she’s ever told, though when it comes to her mother, all her stories tend to have a surreal element even she can’t fathom sometimes.

That day at the funeral, she was taken outside during the wake by Angela Silva to get scolded about her imminent divorce. It wasn’t finalized by then, and her mom invoked one last Hail Mary to convince her to stay with her husband, who was also currently dating someone else. It was a messy situation that Maya couldn't wait to get out of, and the fact that her mother never offered an ounce of support wasn’t surprising, but still devastating. Somehow, Angela found that the reason for her separation from her husband was that Maya didn’t want to have kids, and that really vexed Angela. All she wanted for her three kids was to follow the same traditional path Angela was forced into, no matter how miserable she was. Her two older sisters followed her mother’s narrowed traditional values. But Maya, ever-the-nonconformist, swore she would never follow anyone’s drum beat but her own. Her husband thought she’d change her mind eventually. He was wrong. She knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which led her here, to this moment.

“Is your mom ever happy?” Michael has always wondered.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her happy, except when she’s drunk. That’s why she has to make everyone else miserable.”

“Yeah, but she’s always had a fixation on making you miserable.”

“Like I said, every family needs a black sheep, and I’m it.”

“Is that why you became a vet?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“So, it's true, you don’t wanna have kids? I’m not judging. I’m just curious.”

“I honestly don't know. I just knew that when he told me he wanted to have a baby right away, it didn’t feel right. I said that maybe in six or seven years I’d be okay with it. Told him I wanted to travel and just be us for a while, and he said that was too long to wait. I don’t know… he stopped talking to me, and it was clear that he wasn’t changing his mind, and I wasn’t changing my mind, so. At some point I got tired of trying… He got a girlfriend as soon as I filed for divorce and I got a text from Paige the other day that said he got her already pregnant, like… that was never me. I guess it served me right… I married him on a whim, an impulse without really talking about what we wanted…”

“Hey, don’t feel sorry for yourself. You dodged a bullet there.”

“You really think that?.”

“Yeah, I do. You stood up for yourself and knew when to step back when it didn’t feel right. Not everyone has the balls to do that. Think how miserable you’d be by now if you had tried to please him or your mom. You seem happy now. That's what matters.” He means that with all his heart, and wishes he had the same drive to follow those same steps. As much as he loved the restaurant, he chose to run it to please people within his family. And that love turned into a nightmare he couldn't escape.

“You know… I liked you better when you were quiet,” she quips.

Michael huffs a soft laugh, picking up his brush to resume painting.

When the room is finished, she plugs a couple of fans and closes the door to keep Coco away.

Maya washes her hands and face in the bathroom sink. When she comes out, she catches the motion of Michael's arm as he shoves what looks like a pill into his mouth before taking a gulp of water from one of her glasses.

“What was that? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It's just a headache,” looking down, he runs a palm over his short growing beard.

“Is it the fumes?”

“No, I had it before coming here.”

“Michael,” she sighs softly at his name. “You should've told me. I wouldn't have let you help if I knew.”

“Would you stop that? I wanted to help.”

“Okay, c'mere. Let's sit down.”

“No, I think I should get going.”

“Nonsense. I'm not going to let you drive until you feel better.”

He yields with a long exhale, and follows Maya into the living room, where her bed is settled askew in the middle of the space.

She takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and waits for him to sit next to her.

“Give me your hand,” she shows her palm up, as his eyes narrow. “C'mon, don't be a baby, give me your hand, Berzatto.”

“When did you become so bossy?” He slowly lifts his hand and as he lays it on top of her palm, his fingers tremble upon contact with her skin. Maya then uses her opposite hand to clip the webbing between his thumb and pointer fingers with her own and begins massaging that spot.

“My friend Sierra is really into acupressure. She says this is a pressure point that helps with headaches.” She explains while slowly increasing the force. “Does it hurt?”

“Not one bit. Is that like acupuncture?” His voice comes as a whisper as he focuses on her diligent fingers.

“Kinda. I think. I’m not really sure.”

“You don't have to fix me, you know?”

“I'm not trying to fix you, Bear. I just wanna make you feel better.”

“Admit it. You just love a good wounded animal.”

She smiles softly, placing his hand down on his knee and picking up the other. “Does it feel any different?”

He’s not really sure, it wasn’t truly a headache that led them to take that pill but the annoying rambling of his thoughts. She shouldn’t have seen that. And he shouldn’t have lied. But having her hands on his like this is straight up lovely. Inside of him, it truly feels like something is broken, wounded, and missing, and this is giving him a sliver of relief as he waits for the pill to kick in. If he was a better man, he’d tell her the truth. But he’s too far gone for saving. All he can do is keep that facade up.

“Does it?” She insists after not getting an answer.

“A little.”

“Do you wanna lay down?”

Swallowing, he responds with a nod, and they both lean back on the mattress at the same time. Looking at the ceiling, she keeps kneading that pressure point, unsure if she’s even doing it right.

They stay in comfortable silence for a good five minutes and when she finally places his hand down, Maya glances to the side and sees that his eyes have closed, and his chest gently rising and falling. She calls his name softly, but she can see that behind the sharp edges of his face and the ever-growing shade of his beard, he’s truly exhausted, so she doesn’t insist. She extends her hand to turn off the lamp, and curls on the other side of the bed without disturbing his sleep.

“Good night,” she says softly and closes her eyes.

From a dusty corner of her mind comes crawling that little forgotten part that used to harbor a lot of feelings for Michael. Though a few weeks ago he seemed practically the same Michael she knew, over the past month she’s keenly noticed little changes here and there. His eyes sometimes cast a dark shade tainted in nothing but sadness, it’s barely noticeable for other people. It comes and goes, but it tells her he’s not truly as happy as he pretends to be.

Michael wakes up disoriented at the crack of dawn.

It takes him a few seconds to remember he’s still in Mayas’ bed in the middle of her living room and that the weight that has his arm pinned is her body pressed against his. She’s warmly snuggled on his side, with her arms tucked between his chest and hers, and a peaceful expression on her beautiful face. She’s so awfully close, he can smell the scent of her hair, and feel the heat of her breath every time she exhales.

It's such an odd moment for him to have her that close. He's unsure of whether it would be better to slip out of bed unnoticed before she wakes up, or just stay there and watch her sleep for a bit longer. Either option would make him look like a creep, he thinks. So he opts to gently wake her up. His free hand reaches to his forehead to move a stand of hair away. Her brow scrunches as his light-feather touch grazes her skin. His lips curve up as he traces the shell of her ear to see her stir awake. She blinks slowly a couple of times until her focus shifts onto him.

“Hey, Maybird.”

“Hey.” Her lips move, it's barely audible.

“Sorry, I fell asleep.” His fingers absentmindedly massage her earlobe.

She's so stunned by waking up to that level of intimacy, she simply nods, as her mouth softly draws a smile.

“It's fine. Does your head feel better?”

“Much better. That pressure thing really worked.”

“I'm glad.”

“Listen, I gotta go open. Maybe we could do something later?”

“Okay,” she swallows nervously, hoping that waking up with him like this isn't just a dream. “Can you do me a favor first?”

“Sure.”

“Can you stay five more minutes?”

“I uh… I think I can,” against his better judgment, he decides he can stay for a few minutes more holding her.

The way her lips pull up timidly at the corners, revealing the dimples framing her mouth, completely disarms him. He’s always felt a certain affinity towards her, but being this close to her awakes a longing within that feels dangerous. He can’t bring someone new into his life. Not while everything around him is falling apart. It’s already hard enough having to pretend around other people.

He couldn’t do that to her. He won’t.

Michael will have to fight harder because when her arm tucks around his waist he can’t help but press his lips against her forehead.

Chapter 4: Hard nut to crack

Four months later…

After that initial moment of weakness when he fell asleep on her bed, he fought hard to elude that odd longing that has only grown into a big mass of love toward Maya. To anyone else in the world, a feeling as big as that would be a blessing, especially when it's reciprocated. To Michael, it's a weakness he can't afford right now.

Spending all that time with Maya has been like discovering a whole new planet Michael never thought existed. She's all vast, uncharted territory that fazes him more than it should. Despite his best efforts, he’s fallen into her alluring orbit and can’t find the way out into his own universe.

Far gone is that moody teenager that would mumble a few words here and there. And now there's this tragically stunning woman that looks you directly in the eye, says anything that crosses her mind, and laughs without a care in the world.

Though falling in love with her wouldn’t be completely wrong, it's not quite right either. It fills him with guilt to think about her in that manner. Moreover, it feels like a betrayal to Carmy, who’s far away in a different continent, prospering in his craft.

Michael tries to fool himself into believing that this is just temporary infatuation. He’s even attempted several times to convince her to get in touch with Carmy but hasn’t succeeded. It’d be easier for him if she were to put her focus on someone else instead of him. He has nothing to offer to her and has deemed himself unworthy of her, or anyone for that matter. If she only knew what’s really going on with him, she wouldn’t want Michael nearly as she believes she does.

Layer by layer, she’s tearing all his walls and defenses down. And after all the back and forth, he's absolutely sure she wants more than he can offer her. She’s been giving him the right signals. She doesn't shy away from it. Maya is direct and impulsive, and everything about her is fascinating and intimidating.

It’s time to either cut her loose, or accept that he’s madly in love with her and do something about it.

Amidst coming to terms with a final decision, he's lured into a surprise party she's organized for his birthday.

Michael is left speechless by her determination. And a little annoyed too for reasons he can't explain. To be honest, he’s never been a fan of surprise parties, but the main problem is that this would make things much harder for him to let her down easily. She’s carved herself into his life and the longer he drags this out, the worse this is going to hurt.

He’s aware that it’s selfish and obtuse of him for being that ungrateful that someone who cares that profoundly about him, that they would go all out to prove that. He feels like an asshole, but the train has already left the station.

Using the same tiring self-defense mechanism, he draws his best smile and brings out the Michael everyone seems to love. Not without help. There's always that crutch tucked in his wallet in the form of a pill. Being high numbs him enough to deal with the situation.

The cherry on top comes at the end of the night, when he walks her up to her car and asks if he's had a good time. He lies through his teeth and for the first time, he can tell Maya is not buying it. Perhaps she never did, but he's well-versed on her tells by now, and he can clearly see she's fed up with all the bullshit that comes out of his mouth.

“Look, it's not that I didn't like the party. It's just that I hate surprises, and I was exhausted today. But it was a nice thought, sweetheart. I just… I wasn't in the right mood.” It's seemingly convincing the second time around, but her face shows nothing but regret. “I love the jacket you bought me, though.”

Michael has never been interested in fashion, but he's always loved vintage jackets, and the one she picked it's a perfect addition to his collection. It's a bomber jacket, aviator style, in brown leather with a couple of patches and fur collar.

As they reach Maya's car, they come to a stop. She turns to him, “I know I can be a little too much sometimes. But I promise no more surprises from now on.”

“You and I both know, you won’t be able to keep that promise even if your life depended on it. That's part of what makes you– you, sweetheart. Don’t let my bad mood ruin that.”

“I’ll try.”

After a beat, without hesitation she leans in to leave a goodnight kiss on his bearded cheek and on a whim, she decides to press a second one on his lips.

It takes him completely aback. He wants to dive so badly into her mouth, but he freezes on the spot. And when Maya attempts to deepen the kiss, he finally reacts by placing a placating hand on her shoulder as he pulls his head back.

“I'm… I'm sorry we can't do this, Maya.”

“Wait, I thought… Did I misread something?”

“No, you didn’t misread anything. I just can’t do this.”

“Why?”

“I can't.”

“You can't or don’t want to?”

“Guess I don’t want to.”

“Can you at least tell me why? Did I do something wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong, sweetheart.” He wants to spill out the old – it's not you, it's me – excuse, but he refrains. Every thought and action go against every good instinct he's ever had. He hates himself for making her feel insecure. And yet, he can't backtrack now.

“Stop calling me sweetheart. You see how misleading that is?”

“Sorry. I think I gave you the wrong impression.”

Her eyes narrow, and he can see the gears turning for a long moment before opening her mouth.

“I don't think you gave me the wrong impression, Michael. I think you're too chickenshit to admit that there's something between us and, for whatever reason, you're just taking the coward's way out. You've been weird the whole night, especially with me. I just threw a party just for you, the least you can do is tell me why.”

“I didn't ask you to do that. And I don't owe telling you shit! I was trying to let you go easy, but nothing is ever easy with you. So I'll just say it. This, you and me, is never going to happen.”

It sounds ridiculous as it comes out of his mouth, but he stands firm on that statement as her heart breaks in front of him.

In the end, it'd be better for her, he believes.

#michael berzatto x ofc #michael berzatto #the bear #the bear fanfiction #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal #original character #michael berzatto x reader #angst #fluff #darlingwrites #sorry i used the reader tag #it's the only way to get my fic seen #salt of the earth

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precious-little-scoundrel · 6 months

Text

Let’s Fall Out of Love

Divorce Part 1

Fully co-authored with @elvisabutler 💋

Thanks: are due to so many friends on here who helped craft this timeline and concept and helped me hone the motivations into something I trust our readers will find evocative and sympathetic. Y’all know who you are, thanks for being my buddies

Warnings: 18+ for thematic and sexual material. Strong language and bitter accusations between spouses, mentions of drugs, divorce proceedings, lying to spouses (for their eventual good???) mentions of past infidelity, Colonel Parker being the worst, poor Elvis being in a bad place with his health and mentally -and dub con smut. It is in no way non con but the context, the lack of voiced or implied consent and the aggression make it dubious. It is fairly clear both parties are engaging in hysterical bonding, still the scene is dubious as is the language used by the man regarding a wife having no say in it. So please heed that.

Note: it was the attempt of the writers to craft a rather cinematic experience with this fic, one aim was to skip times and have plenty of fade to black moments. Please note the time stamps above each scene to keep track of progression. Anything that is not clarified in this chapter will either be clarified in the next part or else in others. You’re of course welcome to ask questions.

|| 10th, APRIL 1977 ||

Divorce. Lil Tink is divorcin' him. Lil Laney is gonna be his ex-wife.

The thought rattles around in his aching brain as he chases her up Graceland’s stairway, past the portraits of their children and the plaques celebrating their successes and haunting likenesses of younger selves. Both of them home for a brief stint after Vegas Showrooms and California Courtrooms.

Home -it won’t be his home much longer, she’s gonna see to that.

Divorce.

It had taken up half his year already but he was so sure, so damn sure all she needed was to make a fuss and threaten like she does and then it would cool down, smooth over. He was ready to humor all sorts of shit and then she went and pushed for more. More money, more assets, took out a damn lien. His Tink who happily chucked half of custody at him without a fight has now drug this little show on for months, all for a couple more bucks.

She’s takin' everythin' he's worked so hard for, takin’ it all, going back for more even, just to make sure she can still be taken care of in the conditions and standards he had raised her to.

Spoiled lil middle class girl grown into a spoiled, hardened rich woman.

“Till death do you part”, he hurled the promises at her over the phone, as soon as that court order had landed in his hands -but if ya ask Elaine, he's been dead more times than she can count. Maybe he's dead to her in everythin' but body. Ain't that the other joke, he feels half dead even in body.

"Elaine Presley! Turn 'round when I'm talkin' t'ya! Ya know I hate it when people do that” As if she’s required to listen to him or required to pay attention after two decades of focusing so much of her attention and time and energy on a man who has forgotten all of that. On a man who’s forgotten that he’s married to her. That’s forgotten he has children with her, a life he promised her, and not to his manager who's twisted so much of what was between them into this. Whatever this is.

"Why?" She spits still climbing stairs she's climbed a thousand times before. Faintly she hears Marie playing in her room and a surprising amount of silence from Jack's and her heart twists. They don't need to hear this. None of her children do but her youngest- oh her youngest deserve to think their father is still something resembling a good man.

"Why?" As if Elvis is some sort of parrot, he repeats the question back at her. His confusion colors his face, warring for control with his anger and frustration as he follows her through the padded master doors. "Why? The hell kinda question is that?”

“I told you come by and grab those things you said you needed so badly.” she hauls open one of his drawers and the thing squeals on its track from her violent tug. “So do that. If you wanted to chat then we coulda chatted somewhere else. Or, you know -a year ago? Ten?”

“I’m just askin’ why.“ He embraces her own wording and tries to get nearer her, hem her in against the dresser like he’s done countless times before in this very room with dazzling success.

Elaine slips away between them like water and he’s left bracing himself on the smooth wooden top.

“I’m not actively trying to be a shrew.” she murmurs as she turns away and goes to the other side of the room, opening the wardrobe, “No matter what you believe. I told you that you’ll be welcome in this house no matter what, so that’s why.’I’m not allowing you to come around -you just can, it’s your mama’s house still, for all I’m concerned.”

“No, no I mean- why’re you throwin’ this away?” He emphasizes it with his hands, a pleading gesture that sweeps the whole room and its host of sacred memories. He’s used this before but that was back when he figured it was all one big tantrum. Signing custody papers has rather shaken that hope, delusion, comfort.

Tink purses her lips and he notices her face has gone so white this summer, rarely in the sun and addicted to wearing black like some melodramatic Prima Donna. She does look stunning in the papers all decked out in veils and heels, he’ll give her that. He doesn’t know when she turned from being the heart of the operation to the glamor of it all -and he the opposite.

“What’s my favorite color these days?” she asks him instead.

He stares at the sable color he’s seen her wearing for months now and sighs in exasperation, “Shit I dunno -black?” he swings, knowing it’s a miss the second he says it.

“I can’t do this anymore.” she informs him, like color has broken up a twenty year long marriage and he grinds his teeth so hard he thinks he cracks a filling. The pain adds to his headache that matches the pounding in his chest and the roaring in his ears builds to such a degree he’s honestly terrified for them both.

“Stop this.” he warns her, quite sure she knows the red hot fit she’s stoking with her callousness and hurt that she won’t help him out of it like she used to, that she’ll let him go into a blind rage and then blame him for it, no doubt. “I know when you’re lyin’, woman, and I ain’t ever seen a more lilly livered liar than you right now.” he snarls and tries a last appeal that comes out as a barb anyways, “You wouldn’t be goin’ on so rash if your daddy were still alive,” he jabs a finger at her, “guess I can be grateful he ain’t, so he’s not breakin’ down my door for explanations ‘bout a offense you won’t admit to me!“

Elaine absorbs this blow with a wavering face before the nonchalance cloaks her features once more and Elvis would resort to smacking it off her if he were a different sorta man. “Black is practical, that’s why I wear it. It’s not my favorite though.” she simpers, clutching at the shoe she’s picked up from the floor, something for her hands to worry, to hide her own anguish at having to keep him in the dark. To lie repeatedly to him as he breaks apart, she didn’t know it would cut him up so much.

It’s a mess, this web of connections that used to prop them up, used to be a community. Now it’s a den of tattle tales and if one of them suspects she’s anything but angry at Elvis, that this this divorce and seizing of assets isn’t a scorned wife gone nuts, but rather a calculated endeavor to get at his manager once and for all -well Charlie will spill to Vernon and Vernon will spill to Elvis and Elvis will have all the fuel he needs to plead her right back into complacent heartbreak in his arms -before he goes on tour again and murders himself from the workload.

“I’m on orange kick, actually.” her voice is hoarse.

“Then I’ll buy ya some fuckin’ orange curtains and you’ll stop divorcin’ me.” he jabs a tinged finger at her and he looks like he might fall over, his face is so flushed and sweaty, from pills and passion. Elaine readies to catch him, break his fall if he tips. At least here there’s carpet, unlike the hotel hallway that busted his head last year.

“I’m rather in the mood to buy my own from now on.” she lies and sweeps past him to get to the closet.

She never gets past him. His hand darts out and engulfs her dainty wrist, tugging her back and in a spin like he practiced in his movies so many times, a romantic, gallant, possessive gesture that lands her smack against his broad chest, locked in with an arm around her shoulders.

"Buy your own, hm? Gonna sell my mama's house to do that? Gonna sell ya children's home to do that?"

“Elvis, you get your damn hands off me.” she bites back, throwing her weight on his forearm that might as well be made of steel, so little room does she gain from her effort.

"Never minded my hands on ya before. Even 'fore I married ya, it was fine for me to touch ya. To inspect that lil house of yours to make sure it could have all those lil babies ya wanted. Gave 'em to ya didn't I? Gave ya every last one and two've ‘em are even still with ya till they leave." Never mind that Jack's been bouncing between here and California in an effort to do what he's wanted to do since Elvis would play sharks in the bed with him. "But now you're wantin' my hands off. Goin' on 'bout gettin' new curtains yourself."

His words are punctuated with spit and a hissing anger Elvis doesn't normally indulge in. The bitter anger she used on the road with champagne making her head float in a sea of lies and wants and needs and a twisted sort of love till she had to call it. She can feel her jaw tensing up at his calloused fingers finding their way under her chin, tapping at first to try and have her look up at him before clenching around it and tilting it upward instead.

"Who is it, Laney? Who's the person who's gonna take care of ya? Gonna help ya buy those curtains? Get Marie those cameras? Help Jack and Rosie pay for those commie schools of theirs?" With each passing word Elvis’s voice drops lower and lower in octave until he's reaching levels Elaine's never heard. Against her will, her body shivers in his arms. A sneer crosses his lips- a twisted version of his raised lip that everyone knows and loves. That raised lip she's kissed before with laughter and jokes on how "if you keep doing that your face'll stay that way, Naughty." It shouldn't be there like this and yet it is. "That why ya dragged me to our lil Ella Bella's weddin'? Figured the Martins could spoil our daughter rotten away from you and your new caretaker? Your new piggybank? Don't get shy on me now, Laney! Who's the lucky sonuvabitch who gets to have my wife?"

Elaine's learned how to be composed in every situation with Elvis. She'll shoot at the Colonel over love handles and movies that killed her Elvis's spirit. She'll titter at army wives mocking her house and implying she couldn't keep up with being Mrs. Presley and growing a second set of twins in two years. She'll handle losing little Joesphine with a body that betrayed them all and with a smile on her face because Mrs Kennedy had just lost hers and then John died and the US can't handle their Irish Catholic and their Southern Baptist Camelots falling to pieces all at once. But this, this is too much. This is her soon to be ex husband mocking her. Like she'd have had time to find someone else who would take care of her, like taking care of Elvis and their children allowed her to seek any other comfort than in the aging movie star her husband sought to emulate once upon a time before realizing he's just a man too. The aging movie star she considers one of her nearest and dearest friends and who'd- who would be her caretaker if she let him.

Knowing her luck it'd end up worse than this.

No, this is Elvis throwing out an insult to her character, the one he'd have defended till his dying breath except for when she turns on him like Red and Sonny did. Their book's gonna be coming out sooner rather than later and- she's made it obvious he can't trust a soul any more.

It won't do either one of them any good to react. It's not going to help her escape from his grip that's a vice around her. It won't help him see what she's doing and how she’s doing it for him. But she is only human just as he's only human and her lipstick covered mouth opens in defense of her own honor.

"What makes you think you deserve to know?" He can't see through everything to see why shes doing this, so why should he get an answer. "You won't have to worry, we'll all be taken care of. And you can be rebranded! A seasoned entertainer who's free as a bird to do whoever and whatever he wants. Or oooh -maybe the colonel will pick you out a new wife. Pretty little fool to take my place, without trappings like children -or brains."

“I chose my wife.” it sounds like a beg, anger and hurt battling for the upper hand in Elvis’ heart, his hand squeezes her chin stronger, watching her lips pucker just that little bit. Such a soft mouth has no right being so stern and derisive as it’s been these past months, once upon a time he knew how to make it gasp and smile with a word, a kiss, a mere glance. “I chose you, and you promised. It ain’t me breakin’ that promise, ain’t me sayin’ I can’t do this no more -I-I-I’ve spent my goddamn career givin’ you all this, I gave up w-women for you, I gave up movies for you, when you come to me with what’s wrong I do my damndest to fix it. Now you won’t tell me nothin’ but orange curtains, and if I thought those’d fix us I’d be out the damn door right now, headed to find you the best in the country. I would, Laney, you know I would. I’ve given-“ he stops to gasp in a ragged breath, unsure of what part of himself he hasn’t poured into his Tink, entrusted to her once caring little hands, vulnerability poured like so much oil into her heart for safe keeping, his flaws and secrets tucked safely in the little nooks and crannies of her generous mind. “I’ve given-“

-So Damn Much.

“I’ve given you my life.” His Laney stares back at him entirely unmoved, her eyes hard and sharp with their ebony liner, the squish of her lips beneath his fingers barely dismantling her disdain for him, “And seven children from my body. I never said you weren’t a good man,Elvis, or that you're not generous, but we both know we don’t want to go toe to toe in measuring costs for twenty years in heaven. And I’m saying, -I can’t do it anymore.”

“Anymore?” it’s bothered him all these months, that word and he wonders what she thinks she’ll have after this, like they’re not so intertwined and connected that, like twins, they will forever feel what the other feels, want what the other wants, a string tied between them from countless, immeasurable amounts of time spent merged as one, “I ain’t ever not gonna be in you, woman, once mine -always mine. What’s there for ya after this, huh? Seven children -twenty years! -Goddamn I’m in you!” he shakes her at that and sees a spark of something he knows light up her eyes.

Elvis slides a hand from her shoulders, down over her sternum and feels her heaving intake of breath at the missed feeling of his hands on her, down past the tie at her waist, down to the planes of her firm belly, just a little swell and some soft skin that speaks of the souls they once made with their love. He presses his hand, large and warm and cupped to that precious sanctuary, kneading it, lifting it, weighing it just that little bit in his palm.

The little house is empty.

Elvis outright laughs at his mistake then, a booming, jarring laugh at having forgotten just who he’s got in his arms. He can feel Elaine’s violent shuddering along the entire length of him at the strange sound in their gloomy bedroom. Or maybe it’s from the dig of his fingertips at her womb, like he’ll claw inside it from the outside if he’s barred from plundering her the natural way.

Sweet Miss Phipps, Elvis thinks, with her hungry mind and starved body, so damn eager to be possessed, to be made good use of, to be pumped full and burdened with child again and again. He shoulda kept her swollen this past decade, prioritized her hunger over the tours and then, maybe then, she’d not have gotten notions like this.

“God gave me a remarkable woman.” he murmurs to himself in realization, his hands loosening their grip on her jaw to run the backs of his fingers against against the soft swells of her cheeks and Elaine’s heart speeds up in recognition of the shift in his demeanor, that thrumming resolution taking over his body behind her and helplessly her own responds to it.

As if she's another person, someone she would counsel to resist, to stay strong, Elaine feels her face turn towards the caress of his ringed fingers, towards the admiring touch that’s been her joy to wake to a million times, a touch that’s brought her purpose and comfort for twenty years. Her mouth falls open with a surrendering quiver and she makes no move to avert her mouth when his fingers sweep over her face and across her lips in a revenant mapping of his wife’s well known features. Her tongue darts out to taste even a sliver of his salt, she tastes metal instead as his ring glides by. It’s a heady feeling for anyone to realize Elvis Presley intends to fuck them, it’s entirely heightened by a familiar knowledge of his capabilities and a divinely witnessed right to his person.

It’s no villain staring down at Elaine, pressing himself to her -the distance has been necessary all these months to keep her anger and fear prominent, to remind her of the need for such dire action as divorce, the slightest, kindest of touches from him would dismantle that resolve, that garish image in her imagination. Now she’s close to the finish line, so close he’s fully panicking and she can feel the lightness of soon being free of her deceit. He’s no villain, he’s just a good man who has hurt her, who hurts himself more often and worse than how she’s hurting him. And soon they’ll be able to save each other. Just not today.

His hand slips to her throat and he kneads it, contemplating the give and delicacy of her pale flesh, and her responses, the languid subjugation of her body to his touches, just like he’d taught her in this very bed across from them.

She sees when his eyes flick up from her throat to their marriage bed and it’s like a million hummingbirds erupt in her belly in disbelief, in panic, in a frantic sort of hopeful missing.

“Elvis-“ she doesn’t know if she’s trying to warn him, trying to remind him of the wrongness of what he’s thinking, or if it’s a beg for him to ignore her sensibilities, to take her and make her that new little wifey with the carefree face and the mindless little head.

His face is dark and flushed like he gets when he’s aroused, his features seeming to get richer with the heightened intensity of his feelings and she can feel the sweat break out behind her through his silk shirt, slicking up her own back through the gauze of her dress. Elvis’ eyes drop back to her face, remaining there with a million intentions painted therein but not a single flicker of wavering shows.

Elaine had no reason to be as startled as she was when she felt his hands drop to her waist and spin her around, picking her up beneath the ribs with his astounding strength and tossing her like he would rag doll on his karate mats. She landed with a silly bounce amongst the bedding. It could have been romantic if he had any blue left to his irises as he looked down at her, sauntering to the foot of the bed himself and surveying her where she lay.

“Wife.” he greeted before taking hold of a footsie in each hand and spreading them apart for him to step between her legs.

"Elvis." A whisper as if saying his name any louder would unleash something they might both come to regret. As if it'd cause the dam she's locked her emotions in this entire ordeal will finally break. If she calls him husband it's over. He knows her inside and out, every crevice and dip in her body and soul has been mapped by him. The lie will come apart with a simple utterance of his title that he still has in this moment. The title he still has for three more weeks.

"Elaine." Her name comes out in a shaky breath that she can tell he's attempting to control, to rein in. Those blue eyes she's fallen in love with more and more as years had gone by are an inky void, pupils covering every inch they can and not just because of some pill he had to take or because she had watched him die right in front of her. Both their tongues dart out to wet lips and catch errant drops of sweat before she hears the *clink* of his belt.

That noise isn't new to her, the jangle and clanging of the metal a familiar sound. In the quiet of the room, in the quiet of the house? Of their home? It steals a breath from her lungs as sure as his body pressing down on her would have. The belt sounds like one of the heaviest ones he owns and a shiver unbidden rolls through her body as the cacophony of that gaudy belt gets louder and louder in her ears. Each breath takes effort, forcing air between the two of them that threatens to stifle any calming thought or action. A final puff of air- of his breath- warm and humid runs across her hair, forcing a loose strand of it to move.

Elaine doesn't. Elaine doesn't move an inch even as his belt finally comes off in a subdued flourish and a minor curse. Her eyes focus on the gaudy little harem lamp above them even as Elvis drops the belt ever so gently next to her body. It still clangs against the rings of his hand and its own golden links.

Sweaty and warm, his bejeweled hand moves to cup her cheek. "Mrs. Presley." he breathes her title into her lax mouth like it’s Holy Spirit anointed before slotting his mouth against hers with firm conviction in the rightness of his claim to her.

"Elvis."

It's not fair that all this force, all this passion, all this wanting that has -if she’s being honest- waned for her at times over the years is coming out of him only now, now when he thinks he’s lost her. Now that he’s more fool than he’s ever been. They’ve been alone too often in their marriage, if not separated by miles and oceans, separated by intent and interpretations of it.

“Still mine, for a few more months you’re still mine. Ain’t nothin’ you can do about it. You jus’ take it, jus’ take me, Laney”

And if she weren’t blinded herself by a heartache the proportions of which were only matched by losing a child, she might think every grip and clash of their bodies tells her he wants her every bit as bad as she wants him.

Still.

Mindless and hazy she waits for him to notice how every give and shudder of her own frame declares her want for him. He thinks he’s forcing the matter -but all he’s doing is giving her some false hope to curl around and cry over when the fissure finally splits apart.

I wanted you. But I thought I was alone in it, she thinks she hears them both saying it with every lewd squelch and pant.

It’s cruel confirmation of how entwined they’ve become, how much knowledge of the other they’ve collected over the years that he can make her writhe even under these circumstances, have her shattering beneath him effortlessly like older, kinder, gentler times. It’s made worse when she can feel him slow, stopping partway in that familiar way when he’s edging himself, intending to make her go round the loop once more, the familiarity of it makes her want sob, not from any hurt of the present, but at the notion this may be the last time she feels it -they both want this to last. And that unity is a mocking thing, all context considered.

He’s sweaty and she’s trembling, there’s so much warmth coming off his angry frame that she feels like curling inside the furnace and letting him make her forget anything beyond this physical connection that was never in doubt, the sheets are cold and dry and foreign against her back by comparison and she thinks of sleeping alone amongst them for the rest of her life. Elvis seems to sense this weakness of hers, one he wished he supported sooner, taken advantage of back when she looked so indestructible but was privately fraying at the seams, trying to hold the whole fairytale together. He shoulda done this sooner.

Old dog, new tricks, maybe, but Elvis has always been clever, opportunistic even, and he keeps his thrusts shallow and tantalizing as his wife gasps back to life beneath him and he keeps her close, his hands wound into her hair, hairy forearms beneath her shoulders, her ankle caught somewhere near his ear and his sweaty nose dripping onto her cheek.

“C’mon now Tink, you’ve thrown your fit,” he reasons to her in a coo that is underscored by the cajoling gait of his hips rocking into her, it has her clenching around those first few inches of him again, “ya made your point. Don’t -don’t do this to us baby. You c’mon back now. Ain’t anythin’ out there that’d satisfy you like us. Ain’t nobody else needs ya more dan hims does, satnin, don’t leave hims, baby.”

A good fuck, that’s all she needed, he’s sure of it. Or a couple of ‘em. He shoulda started dishing them out in Palm Springs but he’d been so angry when she filed and she’d been so cold. A couple of good fucks, that’ll solve it.

And to be heard. Which -she’s gotten that, all of America’s been hearing how he can’t keep his own wife.

Whatever bit of sentimentality he’s feeling right now, the sort that makes him wanna spill over how pretty she looks, vanishes in the angry tumult of his recalled humiliation. It fires him up instead and he snorts in his breath above her like an angry bull, perfectly capable of making her pay, making her see some sense, too. The longer she doesn’t reply the more this feeling surmounts the gentler ones and if Elvis were being honest, he knows denial had given way to rage and now bargaining and he’s full on panicking, trying to keep a woman who he shouldn’t have to chase.

She’s his wife.

“Elaine?” even to his own ears he sounds frantic and rough.

She is crying beneath him now, he thinks, that’s not all sweat making her face shine and her lips are taut like when she’s trying to hold it in and he wonders why the hell she’s the one crying. He feels like crying, he’s being left without an explanation or a pot to piss in. And all that while he’s still perfectly capable of proving he’s the best she’ll ever get. It’s like she’s agreeing with him when her hips start to move on their own accord, disagreeing with his teasing thrusts and instead she impales herself up on him, rough and sloppy to the rhythm of her fits of crying.

“I loved you.” Elaine sobs into his neck and he could wring hers for the confusion of it, for the way he just doesn’t get her after a lifetime of trying and how only this, this communion, this passion, this fucking is the only thing they make great sense at. Back when it had a purpose, back when it was to bring joy, to make a baby or five, and even now -to tie her to him somehow.

He folds her body viciously and plants his foot on the bed, thrusting so hard into her with all that wild abandon he knows she’d been jealous of him expending on his audience and not his family. “You greedy lil bitch, you love me,” he growls, “-what a revelation.”

‘Just an ounce of all that passion would go a long way, Elvis’ -he can hear the echo of her stupid little voice even now.

Passion? You want passion, Tink? He doesn’t think he’s ever been so passionately furious when he’s climaxed before ever in his life. For once it’s quite obvious he’s not ‘made love’, war maybe, but not love -and ain’t that another joke, he’d meant to make her love him again.

Elaine tears at his back with her fingernails and hears him snarling at her that he won’t stop, can’t stop, why can’t she stop this nonsense? She grips him harder, she seizes herself as he starts to slow, claws at his back with each vicious pump -seems they’ll both be shifting in their seats next time in the courtroom.

“Elaine?” he sounds so broken, like he does those times when they bring him back from heaven’s gates, it’s mumbled into her neck again like always but this time there’s no drugs to blame, not directly, not if she’s honest. She’s the one killing him. This little plan of hers to save him, just might finish him.

She prays God will be kind, prays he’ll keep her man alive long enough for her to finish this ugly business and restore his freedom, prays that maybe the hot slosh of spend coating her womb won’t be a waste. That she’ll have something of him left, just once more, please just one more. Something left of the man she married. Something to remind her of why they married and of what it was like to be happily married. Maybe just once more she wants to carry his entire world inside her.

“No, Elvis. I-I’m sorry, no.”

When he pulls away, it's not just sweat coating his lashes and his face. This plan of hers might just finish them both.

_______________________________

Every day in that courtroom is another layer of pride and image stripped away from Elvis and her and their perfect Southern Camelot. Every day is another headline for the papers with pictures of Elvis making a fool of himself in a way that can’t be smoothed over by anyone. Every day has cameras being shoved in Elaine’s face as she leaves with another hickey on her neck, bruising and blossoming in a way that looks grotesque when she sees it on the news later that night. The black outfits don’t help the contrast.

Every other day is being thrust against a bathroom stall’s wall with heels digging into Elvis’s back.

“E-Elaine-" He’ll stutter out, the feel of her clenching around his cock making it hard to focus or maybe it was the bite of her nails through his dress shirt. "You stop this. Been grovelin' 'n I deserve to have my wife listen."

"Ex. Wife." Elaine will huff out, words slurring into a quiet mewl as his cock brushes that one spot.

"Wife." An argument and a fact that he'll hammer home until the very last second he can. She never corrects him after the first time, too worried the knowledge would crush him to the point of everything finally giving out.

Jesse has taken to looking askance at her, worried and haunted little looks with fluttery hands at shoulder level that remind her of Elvis before he married her. If she had Elvis’ grit she’d ask her son if he had something to say and tell him to say it.

As it is she just pats his elegant hands, a man’s hands, she realizes, and thanks him profusely for his support, for being there at court with her day after day, missing practice and missing dates, letting a youthful spring and summer slip on by. They’ve been at this for close to a year.

“It’s nothin mama.” Jesse insists, almost offended at the idea he’d be anywhere but by her side.

________________________________

|| 5th, JUNE 1977 ||

When Ann makes her call, Elaine’s heart fills with all the old butterflies and girlish excitement of a past decade. They’ve kept in touch, of course they have, but between the touring, the marriages, and the unspoken acknowledgment of life falling apart from one and coming together for another, there’s less common ground to chat about compared to the days when Elaine used to share her husband and two little vixens named Thumper and Tink got to pick him apart in gleeful adoration like girls with their crush.

“Can I come by?” Thumper asks her, soft and kind but without the playful undercurrent that precipitated all her other visits.

“Well of course you can, you know you can.“ Elaine puzzles, finger worrying the wire in a nervous tick that has nothing to do with anticipation, dread pools in her belly instead.

There’s no children to greet Ann when she comes to the door, Marie at school and Jack away at his apprenticeship in California, Jesse has taken to spending his days in the studio when he’s not needed elsewhere, Daisy on the road and Rosalee in College, Ella married and attempting to assimilate with her in-laws. It feels like a ghost house compared to what Ann recalls. Maybe it’s just the passage of time but something terribly wrong and lonely strikes her at the lifelessness of the grand house, like it’s become haunted without a single death.

Unless it’s the death of the Presley’s as a whole. That would do it.

Elaine stands at the top of the stairs like old times, but there’s no gambit of children to wait for and so she speeds down the stairs at a breezy gait, smiling soft and subdued even as she refuses to be coy with her hug. She wraps Thumper up in a deep embrace and Ann squeezes her back, saying a million things at once by their clutching hold, murmuring little half sentences of condolences and “missed you’s”.

“What’d you come for?” Elaine asks her at the dining table after having supplied ice water and coasters for her guest. Ann turned down the saltines Elaine devoured with peculiar relish.

Always a straight shooter, Elaine. It makes Ann sigh and smooth out her skirt, clearing her voice to repay her candor with like. “I came to see what on earth was going on. To see if you were ok. And, I guess I came to see if it’s really happening. Nobody really thinks it’s happening. Or -I don’t know.”

“It’s happening.” Elaine replies with grim resignation.

“I don’t understand because Elvis says you’re the one divorcing and I always thought if one-“ Ann stops herself to scoff, “-I actually never thought either of you would ever divorce. You’re sincere?”

“It’s happening.” Elaine repeats, shielding her saltine chewing with a manicured hand. The action also flashes her still worn wedding band.

“So it’s not a threat?” Ann marvels, “When Roger insisted it was true, I thought it must be some drastic measure, something to get Elvis’ attention. His cooperation, you know, something to just-“

“-I’ve tried many drastic measures to gain that.” Elaine responds, “ all of them failed. I’d never ‘threaten’ something as horrible as this.“

“But…you’d do something…this horrible.” Ann murmurs, scared to play devil's advocate but utterly confused.

“You don’t know what I’ve been dealing with and, what you saw in the early days of residency, even the stuff on the film sets, it’s like aspirins compared to what he’s on now.”

“So it’s the drugs?” she whispers, heartsick, “You can’t handle being…around them? Around him?” she asks, then adds after careful consideration, “I have noticed you seem, seem still very tactile with him. I see the-“ she waves her finger at Elaine’s collarbones, “-I see the marks. Are you scared of him?”

It is unthinkable of Elvis. It really is, and Ann knows her face must show disbelief even when presented with her friend's mottled skin, and she hates herself for doubting a woman’s account, but if Elaine were to say she’s scared, Ann isn’t sure she’d be able to buy that. Not of Elvis. Even under the influence.

“Gosh no.” Elaine scoffs, a beat too late. “I just can’t do it anymore. All of it. Just the typical little things that build up in a marriage, I suppose.”

She tries to grin and Thumper thinks it’s the weakest acting she’s ever seen. Elaine more convincingly played a virgin in their home movies when deepthroating cucumbers for Elvis’ enjoyment.

“How’s Roger? Elaine asks, through with defending herself and Ann feels lost, adrift and unable to get near like she once did.

“Roger is fine.” Ann replies, “He sends his best. How is Ella?”

“Tell him I’m sorry they brought your name up, last week.” Elaine sighs, no apology offered to Thumper. They both know she’d be offended at an apology for being associated with them. “Ella is decidedly pregnant, that’s what she is.”

“Is she?” Thumper coos, followed by an alarmed quavering of hope and concern on her face. “Elaine, that’s-“ it is wonderful despite the circumstances but Elaine’s brittle posture suggests a to-do about it might sink her. “Congratulations, Grandma Tink.” Thumper settles for, daring to reach across the table top, seizing Elaine’s hand and squeezing its saltine dusted elegance.

“Thank you.” she whispers hoarsely, “She calls me everyday. Reminds me of you and me back when … her man he -he sounds sweet. Of course he’ll be gone awhile and so I’m all she has got to talk to about throwing up each morning and watching things swell.” None of this is how they expected or intended, Elvis and Elaine should both be hovering about and annoying their first grandchild before they’re even out in the world. Instead Ella’s perched down in Texas, no doubt terribly homesick, and Elaine’s talking about grandbabies like it’s another addition to the carport. “Tell Roger we’re sorry they brought your name up. Please tell him.”

“We don’t care.” Thumper insists and Elaine hopes that’s an accurate representation of Roger’s feelings. “He only asked-“ Ann stares out the front windows and down the drive towards the gates, summer colors brilliantly lush outside the house, she’s seen this view so many times it hurts, “-he asked that I make sure that…any…videos, and such, were disposed of.” she winces as she gets it out, once her manager, always her manager that man. “I wasn’t sure which of you to ask about them.”

Elaine stares at her intensely as if trying to read her soul. “I’ve most of them upstairs. Ruined by pregame juice mainly but the labels are sentimental so I’ve kept them.” Ann wonders if they’re ruined at all, and if they are she wonders if it’s by orange juice or by something far more lewd. Elvis never had great aim, “I’m sure Elvis has the ones we sent him under lock and key. Either way, you know neither of us would endanger you. You know that, Thumper.”

“Yes, yes I do.” Ann breathes, resting her chin in her hand, mournful at having insinuated otherwise.

“So you can tell Roger they’re not a worry.” Elaine prods with the shadow of an old smirk, “And you never know, in future it might not be so hard to track Naughty and I down at once.”

“Oh?” Ann squints at her in confusion.

“Mhmm.” Elaine just hums and shrugs her shoulders, the purple little mark on her clavicle shadowing with the movement. “Are you saying the night, Thumper?”

Ann leaves that evening more bewildered than when she arrived. “You were right, Roger,” she tells her husband as she settles beside him late that night, “she didn’t tell me a thing. Not really.”

___________________________

|| 9th, JUNE 1977 ||

“They’re gonna stop pressin’ ‘bout Thumper,” the murmur of his voice registering before the hand on her arm does as they both find themselves heading to the bathroom. It’s a flimsy sort of an excuse and one she’s beginning to think the papers and the news cameras see through.

“That’s good.” Her voice is a little too airy but today’s been a back and forth of yelling and excuses and all Elaine’s thinking about is how one of Daisy’s bandmates called her up from a payphone telling her that they almost couldn’t wake her for the show. The show she shouldn’t be doing but the show that Elaine let her do because she’s been playing being an adult for so long that who was she to argue against it?

“Told her we’d make sure it was- nothing came out. Roger was worried about it. For her image and for his, maybe.”

After all, it’s one thing to just be married to Ann-Margret, another thing entirely to be married to Thumper who’d rolled in the hay literally and figuratively with the Presleys at their lowest point. He’s never minded her continued friendship with them but that was before whispers of infidelity turned into whispers of sexual romps that were taped and stored or pictures that were taken and used as masturbatory material. He's never minded until Joe E, bless his soul, implied he might've seen copper locks in a video from Circle K that Elvis had shown a few of the members of the Mafia. Not that the court or anyone could find such a video.

The lock to the bathroom clicks behind Elvis and he turns around, raising an eyebrow. “Now hold on a minute, she- Thumper thought we’d- I’d never-”

“She didn’t. Roger was concerned. She knows us well enough, Elvis.” Still reassuring him as if they’re not going through what is turning out to be the messiest divorce the world has ever seen and likely will ever see. “I told her as much and she felt bad about asking.”

About the tapes and the photos, not so much about their divorce, Elaine reasons. As much as she wants to fault one of her oldest friends -it’s understandable. That was the purpose of the divorce. To come out of left field and appear to all concerned as if the faithful wife has finally grown unable to force herself to put up with Elvis Presley any more. The Colonel wouldn’t question that and had wanted it for years, if anyone were to ask him. Ann- their lil Thumper wouldn’t have been able to keep her plan a secret, her loyalty to Elvis and Elaine would have put her in a spot that Elaine didn’t dare want to shove her into. No, it was better for her to question the same as everyone else. Maybe if this went well they could all have a laugh about it in Hawaii. Or at the very least, Ann could forgive her.

“Don’t know why she didn’t jus’ ask me, ‘m the one who-'' Elvis's voice trails off when it hits him. Why would she ask the person who likely doesn’t hold most of them. Who’s fixin’ to lose everything in a divorce he desperately doesn’t want. “Least she knows now."

Elaine should agree with him, she should agree with him that at least Ann knows now, but she only knows part of the story. She only knows that the man she fell in love with on a movie set and his wife she maybe sometimes loves as more than a friend won’t damage her the way they’re damaging each other. How even Elaine had to joke that maybe it would be easy to run into them together in the future. Even during these hellish days in court they can’t escape each other’s orbits.

Pretending to not love and care for Elvis is an impossible task when what she’s doing is because her love and her care for a man who is sometimes brutish and stupid and selfish is so overwhelming it threatens to choke her.

At her silence, Elvis allows himself to crowd into her space, hands grasping at her hips ever so gently. "How's Rosalee?"

They're both too tired to fight in this bathroom, their energy having been spent outside of it for everything else. Asking about his favorite daughter, the one who's lived and breathed for her daddy for years feels safe.

"Not- she's not very good, Elvis. It's been- she hasn't really been the same." Since what happened. If things were different maybe she'd be taking the time to relax at home and maybe Daisy wouldn't have run off from guilt and - no. Elaine can't dwell on that even as her eyes start to water.

"It's hard on them." His tone isn't accusing, instead managing to just state a fact. This whole divorce has been hard on all of them. Even if Elaine's the one instigating everything he sees how unhealthy she looks. Feels how her body seems to be breaking down in ways that aren't as flashy as his body but the signs are there.

God knows he's not always been the most pious of men in action, that somehow all his good intentions and gospel songs haven’t managed to pull him back as he skidded down the road to hell, yet he’s got such a hankering to hide in the cleft of the rock once again. Acknowledge he’s a man, a failing man, a wayward husband, a prodigal son.

He finds himself reaching for Laney’s hand, palm up in a way she recognizes without a word. She clasps it without hesitation, in a time worn manner they’ve used before marriages, births, trips, shows, bedsides of sick and dying friends and here in this tiled little haven of the courthouse where they’re allowed to be as vulnerable and broken as their Heavenly Father knows them to be.

They bow their heads and Elvis finds himself begging his Almighty not for a return of fortunes but merely a cessation of tragedies. Elvis’ hand twitches, a pinky disentangling from Tink’s clasp and tickling her belly, like a presentment, like a benediction of nothing more than a heartbroken hunch on his part.

_____________________________

|| 29th, JULY 1977 ||

Elvis regrets answering the door to his penthouse the moment it swings open to reveal Johnny Cash with that sort of frantic and half crazed look in his eyes that Elvis thought he'd given up at the beginning of the decade. Wasn't that a hoot, the two of them swore up and down they had gotten clean for their women, the loves of their lives- the ones that God blessed them with to live out their present and future everlasting lives with- only to fall back into those old habits. What a cosmic joke.

"You're a fool, Presley." Short and to the point in a way that only Johnny can manage. Elvis exhales, wondering what exactly he's done to God to earn one of his oldest friends calling him a goddamn fool at the closest thing he's got to a home nowadays. His lil Schnucki comes to visit him, and Jesse's called once or twice but ever since that- ever since he realized how serious his Laney was about leaving him- Graceland ain't his home anymore.

"Ain't gonna say anythin'? No fight left in you?" The door to the penthouse is kicked in and if Elvis was any other person, or Johnny was any other person Elvis might've jumped. As it is, all he manages is a shrug as he pinches his nose. His head's achin' and his eyes hurt and all he wants to do is sleep. Take something to make every whisper floating in his head die down. An older brother telling him how he's ruined his life isn't remotely something he's got the patience for. Not after today's courtroom.

"Whatcha want me to say, John? Ya know everythin', so whatcha want me t'say, hm? Laney's leavin' me, takin' what she wants and leavin' me poorer than I met her."

Not monetarily, no, Elvis figures he could handle that better than the reality of his Laney, his Tink, the bjggest part of his soul other than his mama leaving him. Elaine's leaving him a man with barely any soul left in him to fight and go on. And he swears- lord he swears he felt something different about her recently. Something swelling that shouldn't.

"What I want'ya to say is that I'm gonna go back to my hotel and me and June are gonna tell each'otha that this whole thing's jus' you all been stubborn as a pair o'mules. Cause if it ain't, I gotta be real concerned June's gonna up and do the same thing on me." Johnny's always been someone who doesn't let Elvis get away with half the things everyone else does. Maybe it's because of how they started things together or how Johnny knows that half the reason he's got June is because of Elvis. Or maybe it was some misplaced need to be a brother to Elvis- to fill in a spot he figures his twin would've.

"June ain't gonna-" Elvis starts before Johnny uses the two inches he's got on Elvis to his advantage, staring the other man down as he cuts him off.

"Lane wouldn't've. Shouldn't've. Yet she is. This ain't- this ain't 'bout whatever damn excuse she's got. Can't be. There's somethin' you ain't tellin' everyone."

More and more Elvis has to laugh at his life and how everyone seems to think he's got some power over his Laney. That this whole divorce and the way he's embarrassing the both of them day after day is just another show. A snow job as the colonel would put it. This would be so much easier if that was the case. It isn't the case though, it isn't the case and Elvis feels his laughter escape him like the boom of a cannon.

"If there's anythin'- The whole damn country thinks I'm an idiot who can't keep his wife and here- I don't need you to be thinkin' 'm an idiot who don't know some grand plan his wife's cooked up. Ain't no plan. Ain't nothin' I ain't already groveled about and cried about in those hallowed halls. Laney jus' don't want me any more."

A silence settles between the two men at that revelation with Elvis breathing sounding so labored that even through the haze of his own drugs Johnny levels a look at his friend. It’s only after he’s sure that the other man won’t pass out and die on him that he actually speaks.

"You- You ain't me. She ain't Vivian. She- Elvis there ain't no way she's- that ain't it. You're both- you two can't keep your hands off each other even divorcin'. She- she still wants ya.”

“She wants my cock, John. Wants my money. Wants my house. My mama’s house. Know I said it was hers the moment we got hitched but- it wasn’t ever supposed to be hers. It’s- It’s ours.” Elvis isn’t one to break down, not in front of certain people and Johnny might be one of his friends that are near and dear to him but he doesn’t want to lose it in front of him. Doesn’t want to cry and blubber like he has been in the courtroom, pleading and begging for Elaine to just see sense. “We don’t- She don’t love me any more. T-That’s all there is to it. No grand con-spear-ah-see. Jus’ my wife wantin’ to be my ex-wife. Don’t know if I blame her. I ain’t-”

“You been a better husband than I was. Better husband than a lotta men. If- if 'Lane wanted to leave ya? She'd have done it back in the 60s. When you were carryin' on wit' what's her name- Swedish girl- fire hair. But she went 'n made friends wit' her. That woman's supposed to be yours till Kingdom Come 'n beyond. This doesn't make a single lick of sense and ya know it!"

One would think that nothing could echo in this penthouse and yet somehow Johnny's booming yell, filled with bass that Elvis is sure have made men greater than him bend and cower, echoes and reverberates in his ears. A stark reminder that Elaine and him seem to affect everyone around them for better or worse. Elvis's heart pumps a little harder as he tries to wrap his aching head around everything for what feels like the millionth time.

"I-I know it don't. This- you know these things don't take this long, John. I've-I been draggin' this out. Stickin' my damn heels in the mud. Anythin' to get her to come back, to see what- anythin' to not lose her. And she's jus'- ain't none of it workin'. Daisy up'n'ran off, Rosalee jus' wants me to be near her mama or her mama near me. Jesse's lookin'-"

"That what it is? Her doing it for the kids?” Johnny’s question has him tilting his head, not entirely unlike the millions of dogs Elvis’s children have had over the years. He ought to be offended Johnny cut him off so easily and without a care in the world and yet Johnny’s one of the few people he’d let do that. “She’s doin’ this for your kids.”

For once, Elvis has to look at Johnny and guess at what he means whether it’s because the man is too stunned to put it into words or because he doesn’t want to even entertain the idea, Elvis doesn’t know. He can hear his heartbeat going a bit too and a bit too hard in his ears as he answers.

“Ya mean- have i been failin’ them too? Have a been as bad of a father to ‘em as ‘ve been a bad husband?” The laugh that leaves Elvis sounds more like a sob than anything else. Johnny purses his lips even as he listens. "Ya mean how I found out I'm havin' a grandbaby through Laney? Or how Daisy's worse than you’n’I together on whatever she's takin'? Or how my boys acted like superheroes for their sister? How my lil Schnucki had- how I had to find that out from the Harrisons and my boys? ‘N I wasn’t there to blow those fools’ heads clean off their necks?”

Johnny realizes right then he’s made a mistake coming here. Or maybe just made a mistake pressing this point like it’s honestly any of his damn business. “You haven’t-”

Elvis cuts him off with a wave of his hand as he steps away, trying to feel less like a caged animal. “That’s right, I haven’t. I haven’t, John. Haven’t been there, haven’t given ‘em what they need. I had one job. Take care of all of ‘em and love ‘em. Failed so- I don’t blame her, John. I- I love her. Ya know I do. You know this sorta love but I can’t, I can’t make her love me again. S-she ain’t gonna love me again. Not the way she has.” His breath comes in short pants as his hand shakes and his leg jitters like he’s a man twenty years and nearly ten children younger. “I tried fixin’ this. The kids- the kids tried fixin’ this. But they can’t- can’t get through to her, these days! They’re all beggin’ and cryin’ and torn up and the Tink I know wouldn’t’ve lasted a week after causin’ such hurt to our babies. Well this new edition of her’s done made it close to a year.”

Johnny opens his mouth to speak only for Elvis to hold up a finger and force himself to take a deep breath, like Laney told him to those times after she thumped his heart back to life for him. Laney’d get what she wants if he died but he’s got a grandbaby he’s gotta see. Wants to try and see. “A year. Been nearly a year and it ain’t workin’. Nothin’- been tryin’ to remind her’ve what we had. What I give t’her. It-” Elvis starts to trail off, the fight that Johnny had put inside him slowly deflating till all he’s left with is the shell of a man who’s bone tired. Bone tired and losing everything no matter what fight he puts up. His shoulders slump.

Watching someone who’s as larger than life as Elvis Presley seemingly fold in on himself feels wrong in Johnny’s mind, but it gives him the answer he needs. It gives him the answer he’s looking for when it comes to just what’s going on with this whole divorce and what’s going on with Elaine and Elvis. His legs cross over to where Elvis is in only a few steps and without missing a beat, his arm wraps around Elvis’s shoulder. Elvis might not be his brother in blood but they’ve gone through enough that- that he wouldn’t leave him out in the cold without a hint of comfort.

“You gotta make peace wit’ it, then. Gotta- The Lord ain’t gonna want to see the two of ya fightin’ till ya keel over and die. Gotta give- If what she wants is to not be your wife any more, ya gotta give it to her. Just to make peace.” His voice isn’t much louder than a low rumble and yet Elvis can hear him clear as day.

“She won’t be my Laney any more. Won’t be my Tink.” A response as if he's a child being denied his favorite toy. Johnny doesn't stop himself from huffing out a laugh.

"But she'll still be Elaine, your children's mama. It ain't like you won't ever see her, EP." But that’s not the problem, that’s never been the problem and from the way Johnny’s looking at him, he knows that. “But ya gotta- it’s not doin’ either of ya a bit o’good to be draggin’ it on and on. Not after everythin’. Been livin’ ‘part for so long-” Johnny trails off, hand moving to rub at his eyes as he shakes his head. “Nothin’ you’ve done’s fixed it. Might not be meant to be fixed in those ways.”

“I-I- I don’t have anythin’ to fall on, John. I leave her it’s jus’ me and-” The medicine I got coursin’ through me, is what he should say. “I don’t know how to not be her husband.”

A silence settles over the two of them, punctuated only by Elvis’s heavy breaths and Johnny’s sharp and quick ones until Johnny settles himself against the wall, crossing his arms and raising his leg to press against it.

“Never said ya had to stop actin’ like you were.”

__________________________________

|| 6th, AUGUST 1977 ||

It’s a supreme irony that after a year of wishing for a cessation of that old stubbornness, that bitter pride of his, when such submission comes in the form of a mute and sullen husband opposite in the courtroom, Elaine feels her heart hammer in her chest, bewildered and terrified as he concedes one settlement after another in quick session.

Jesse gasps beside her at the change, even looks ready to beg her to reconsider her greediness as 90% gets handed over without a hint of the raging qualms her opposition has been voicing for five months.

Only Colonel Parker appears scared as shit, angrily grabbing at Elvis’ limp arm and trying to interrupt his directions with the lawyers. Each new verdict gets waved through by a lazy flick of a bejeweled hand and Elaine thinks the repetition of the gavel granting her all she wants could make for a decent backbeat in the studio.

After an agreement to give up 90% of his catalog, Elaine and Jesse both share a look, heartbroken and relieved that he’s really, truly, finally given up.

It’s obvious to all that it’s a bodily wearing out, Elvis looks awful and no amount of jewelry or eyeliner or Snow Job paraphernalia can hide the fact Elaine’s husband is a sick man. Even the papers who’ve found him easy pickings for ridicule and blame suddenly find some heart for his obvious suffering, even if the compassion is wedged between headlines about his expanding waistline and her latest money grab.

“What’s with you?” she demands and this time it’s her hand around his wrist, the unsteady clop of his boots following her heels after the click of the bathroom latch. When she drops his wrist his gold studded hand lands heavily by his thigh, he makes no move to crowd her, to grip her hair and kiss her like old times. “What was all that about?” she finds herself angry instead of relieved, mimics his lazy hand waves and scoffs in his face. She knew and planned on this day coming, but it doesn’t make it less unsettling as she takes in the victory of her spirit over his. He’s her man after all, her daddy and her provider, tough and proud and one of a kind and she’s beat him at the game of wills. She can feel her eyes pooling and angrily runs a hand under her nose as he stares at her with a blank, droopy expression.

“M’tryin’ to make peace.” Elvis shrugs, it was Johnny’s advice. Whatever it took, even if it meant giving in, he’s the man of their house and he’s here to make peace. Maybe if they end on a kind note he’ll be thought of, invited into the inner circle even even, by the time Ella pops out their grandbaby. “Never cared about the fuckin’ catalogue Tink, was only ever about buyin’ time to convince you to stay.”

The colonel’s panic at this latest settlement, one that finished the final prying open of his carefully constructed facade, one that’s exposed him to years of investigations, jail time maybe -though few outside of Elaine, Mr. Corleone and the FBI know that yet- is like sipping a mojito after a long day baking in the sun for Elaine.

Two decades of her saying he wasn’t right and Vernon telling her to go mind the carpet bill, change a diaper, redo a curl.

It should be refreshing, it should be a tonic to the way she feels shaky most mornings and ravenous in the evenings. Instead she finds herself trembling and laying an icy hand to Elvis’ burning forehead, registering the unnatural heat even in this chilled bathroom. It’s not just the stupid velvet coat, one blue eye is far more dilated than the other now she’s pulled his glasses down. He flinches from it, whether from the brightness of the bare bulbs or her touch, she isn’t sure.

“What’ve they got you on?” she sounds like a frog, throat all constricted and voice thin. She cares, she still cares so much and it could’ve been just yesterday she folded her handsome young groom into that bathtub in Germany and held him through the shakes. She wishes she could ask him ‘why do you always waste my love?’ But somehow, even after all her cruelty, that feels a little mean. “Baby, talk to me, what’s -“

Elvis grabs her hand, gently this time and he folds it with her other in both of his, a tan, sparkly little cage, she wonders how long it’ll take him before he pulls his wedding band off. Will he discard it before they make it out of the courthouse today? “Don’t you fret yourself, lil mama, those days are over.” he rumbles as he squeezes her hands and she wonders if he means days of fretting or drugs, they coincide often enough, “You jus’ take care of y’self, ok?” he sucks in a trembling breath and his glasses pinch between her fingers in his squeeze, “Without me there to nag ya bout it I-I -you take care of y’self.”

“Oh Elvis-'' she whimpers, moving closer, wanting to beg for some forgiveness, all clever plans and well timed revelations beginning to fray as she watches him rally his old magnanimity despite his grief.

_____________________________

|| 28th, SEPTEMBER 1977 || >>

He’s not alone in this concern, Elaine doesn’t know if she has Jesse or Daisy to blame for the way Marlon shows up in Memphis like that Yankee son of a bitch belongs that land bound. There’s never been a reason to see Brando except on one coast or another and it’s jarring for Elaine, seeing him take up space that’s so uniquely Elvis’ property, even if it’s under her name.

To see him in her home. Her true home.

She’s no good at hiding her nerves or the exhausted paranoia of wondering how Elvis will react when he hears of this visit. Marlon reads her like a book and leans against her kitchen counter, acting like Mary isn’t throwing them a million side eyes over the biscuit batter, and asks after her well being.

“Pretty terrible, thanks. And you?” she shrugs, wringing out a dish towel over and over. She doesn’t know when she became so fidgety, nowadays it seems she’s always betraying her nerves with restless hands and she never had that trouble before. Always a baby to hold if she needed the excuse, she guesses.

Her last baby is nine years old. And so she wrings out her dish towels and stares back at an old lover with the weary openness of a woman who doesn’t really care anymore. Elvis has been her one goal, and saving him is killing her as effectively as it is him. Those last days she wasn’t sure he was going to keep making it into the courtroom, shifting in his chair not from her nails furrows but from the repeated shots in his rump. The ones that have killed him a few times over.

Jesse made a visit to him in Vegas. Elaine doesn’t know what he said but her boy has barely spoken since. She asked her son how his father was, quite aware she doesn’t know the particulars from his fevered attentions in the handicapped bathroom of the Santa Monica courthouse. Her man would crawl out of his grave for the chance to make love one last time, it’s not a good gauge. Jesse said he keeps the curtains closed constantly. That he’s not letting anyone up. Charlie barely let Jesse up. His eyes are bad, so bad the curtains stay closed, otherwise Jesse couldn’t tell, couldn’t get a good look at him. He didn’t stay for the concert. Cissy says his voice has held up this time, at least.

“Pretty terrible.” She tells Marlon, because he’s always been more friend than lover, and that’s why he’s in Memphis when it’s a fool's errand anyway.

For all Marlon will speak his mind about this that and the other on things he cares about- yet God does he *care* about Elaine and so he bites his tongue at the first thought that pops into his head. *You've been pretty terrible for years and now you decided to care and do something about it*.

Instead: "You look terrible."

Which is a gross oversimplification of his feelings, but Elaine doesn't watch as his eyes slide over her pale and wan cheeks that look thinner than he's ever seen them. She doesn't watch how his eyes drift downward to breasts that are pressing against the dress she's wearing.

They remind him of when she was pregnant with Marie. They remind him of her breasts when she cried out beneath him against her tiki bar. If he closes his eyes he can picture them bouncing in front of his face, begging for him to bury his face in them. The boy- her oldest boy was right. Marlon doesn't even need to look at her stomach and yet some sick twisted masochistic tendency compels him to as if that'll change things.

It's small. Smaller than he figures any of her bumps have been and yet it's there. Mocking and growing at its own pace.

Proof that Elaine Phipps wants to remain Elaine Presley till one of them dies and maybe even beyond. Marlon can't help the way he exhales through his nose, unable to look away even as Elaine talks,

"Marlon, are you even listening?"

No. But he needs to.

"Mind wandered off, you know how I get, Elaine." He straightens up and tries to stay alert, “So, all this really fixed things for ya, eh?” he quips sardonically and she smiles, rolls her eyes, fully aware he’s not mocking her, he’s mocking the hopelessness of it ever working.

“Yeah. It’s all coming up roses.” she snarks.

“I uh-“ he stipples his fingers on the counter and weighs his next move, “-I heard that Colonel Parker’s recently landed in some seriously hot water. Something about the audits during the divorce and how certain things don’t match up. Got it from the papers, you know how long they stretch a few vague facts. I had to read two whole pages to get ‘fraud’ and ‘debts’ out of them. Anyways, I thought you’d find that nice -hot water, all that.”

“So hot it’ll boil his coat of lies right off with any luck.” Elaine seethes and her sudden passion takes Marlon by surprise. Stirs an old appreciation for just how much verve is always bubbling beneath her doll-like exterior. His fingers itch to let out the excess in a gush around his fingers. “Illegal alien.” She expounds, warming to her argument in the way of someone long overdue a listen, “Would you believe it? All those endless homebound tours -runing Elvis into the ground on the same circuit simply because that greedy fool couldn’t tag along. Couldn’t step outside the country. Always wondered why he never crashed our time in Germany, knew he would if could. Fake, heartless, toad.”

“Fuck him.” Marlon agrees vehemently and Elaine looks up with the same appreciative eyes of a decade past when she got no arguments from him, unlike all the menfolk surrounding her most days. Marlon abides by a simple rule: if it pisses Elaine Presley off, he needs no further research to say it ain’t shit.

“Yes, well, I’ll leave that to the Justice Department, I’ve done my bit.” Elaine sighs, her little victory crow short lived and even with his bias for the unattached Miss Phipps, Marlon can see how hollow her achievements are without Elvis to pat her pretty head for them. “It’s been weeks and I- I’m afraid he’s angry Marlon.” they’re not talking of the Colonel now, Marlon can tell by her love-sick face, “I knew he would be, with the divorce and probably with framing Parker but -he was so kind that day. So kind I thought he might’ve forgiven or just, I don’t know but now, now he won’t even answer my calls. Marie hasn’t gotten through either and -it’s not like him, Marlon, it’s not.”

“You got something pressing to tell him?” Brando asks and doesn’t even bother to hide the way his eyes flick back over her ripening form, pondering if her boy hadn’t been silly after all, going on about her not noticing. If he were a woman, a pretty woman like Elaine still is, Marlon would be weighing those growing tits each day with pride and mesmerization -but then again, Elaine’s had more on her mind than appreciating her own assets like a horny old star who never learned to aim for his own league.

“No I only wanted to-” she bites her lip as if unsure or else what she wants is unspeakably optimistic for a woman who just threw it all away. “I missed his voice.”

_______________________________

<<< || 16th, AUGUST 1977 ||

The knock at the door startled them both. Elvis pulled his back from it and faced it like he was gonna defend his wife from the mob he suspected was outside. Old habits die hard.

“Y’all?” Jesse yelled through the thick wood, “There’s half the city crowdin’ outside, there’s not gonna be a path to squeeze through soon.”

“Yeah alright son, thank you.” Elvis cleared his throat as he dropped her hands, straightening his posture fully. “You ready?” he asked dully, eager to get the worst moment of his life over.

“I gue- I- yes.” she stumbled over her meaning and smoothed out her black jacket.

"Daddy?" Jesse's voice was heard over the wood once more and both Elaine and Elvis took matching deep breaths, sweat droplets falling on Elvis’s eyes with a wince.

It's not pity that had Elaine putting the glasses back on Elvis’s eyes, her fingertips brushing against his temples in a simple gesture she's done a million times before. No, it's her last hurrah as his wife, her last action as his wife. They may have signed the papers within the past hour and legally she may be Elaine Phipps once more but until they walk out of this bathroom and this courthouse she was Elaine Presley, wife of Elvis Presley. A low hum reverbated against her chest before she pulled away, a soft smile across her lips.

"There there, Mopey, all better," she whispered in the sort of tone she only uses for the children when bandaging a hurt. "Let's- let's go face the music."

“Got me more nervous than any curtain I’ve been behind,” he joked even as it falls flat and his breath comes quicker and quicker. This was the beginning of their new life as separate entities. As an ex-husband and an ex-wife.

The door wasn’t that heavy when he shut it earlier and yet it felt as if someone had remade it out of concrete as Elvis tried to push it open once the lock clicked open. He could already see the flashing bulbs from the cameras and the press of the mass of people outside waiting for them. They were no stranger to crowds but this one was one none of them wanted to face. A look was exchanged between the three of them as their shoes clicked against the floor of the courthouse, a silent acknowledgement to try and get to their waiting cars as soon as possible.

"Jess! Mama!" Elvis and Elaine looked up through the mob of people as they pushed and pulled at each other trying to catch a glimpse of the former couple with their oldest son. They found themselves half blinded by flashes of cameras and the sun's own light, trying to find the source of the bellowed words. "We're over heyer!"

Jack then. Jack who was growing more and more into Elvis’s twin if not in bulk but in charm and whose shout sounds something like Sargent Presley’s in the army. Elaine looked at Elvis, biting her lip as she did.

"Soundin’ more like me everyday." Elvis commented as if he was commenting on the weather. It had never been hard to talk to Elaine. Yet in this moment, Elvis found himself at a loss for words. And from the way Elaine was looking at him, the feeling was mutual. Matching pink tongues darted out to wet dry lips and Elvis opened his mouth, his arm outstretched as if he was going to grab at Elaine's only for his oldest son to pop up between them, taking Elaine's arm without a second thought.

"I've got you mama. I gotcha, let's go."

The look he leveled at Elvis made every single moment in this courtroom for the past five months seem like child's play. To have his oldest son look at him like he did with any suitor that tried to come Elaine’s way, hurt. But that was his life now wasn't it? That's Elvis Presley’s life without Elaine Phipps. That's Elaine Phipps's life without Elvis Presley, protected only by her sons and her daughters from a man she once called husband. The man she once loved with every fiber of her being or so Elvis thought. Make peace with it, Johnny said. Make peace with her, Johnny said. Elvis didn't think that it would feel like this.

“I know you do, Jesse. Let me say goodbye to your father.” Elaine said as softly as she could in order to avoid the prying ears of every journalist between here and her car. “Jack and your siblings aren’t going anywhere. Not in this crowd. Even if Jack’d run them over to protect me.”

A smile unbidden crossed Elvis’s lips at the joke between their eldest and Elaine. She wasn’t wrong, but that was his boys and their love for their mother in a nutshell, wasn’t it? Capable of murder to protect her the same as him. She- she would be alright even if- even if what he suspected to be true was.

“Jack drove us here, all of us.” She explained as her eyes flitted across his form one last time to check for imperfections and for signs he might be needing anything. “I’ll make sure Ella calls you about-”

“It’s fine, Elaine. Made my bed, gotta lie in it now.” His eyes scanned across the crowd, even as he winced from the light of the sun and the flashes even through his sunglasses, finally settling on his car with Colonel Parker in the passenger seat, waiting for Elvis with a look of pure displeasure and mild panic on his face. “Gotta get him and I outta here ‘fore I give him a heart attack.”

Elaine’s face hardened at the words, and Elvis, in a fit of nostalgic responsibility for her happiness, moved to place a soft kiss against her cheek, squeezing at her hands as he did.

“S’been the joy of my life knowin’ you, Miss Phipps.”

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doormatty3 · 2 months

Text

Veiled Passions (Josh Lambert x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Summary:

[Josh Lambert x Female Reader] [Josh Lambert x You] After you and Josh had sex, the mutual attraction between you continues to grow stronger. You know that you should stay away from him - he’s your friend's dad, around two decades older than you and divorced. And yet, you both find yourselves irresistibly drawn to each other. So, as the year progresses, you decide to pursue a committed relationship while keeping it a secret from friends and family. But lies never live to be old - especially when they are this severe. And yet, he makes you the happiest you’ve ever been, but doubts creep in as you're reminded of the reasons you should steer clear. And when Dalton, your friend, also confesses his feelings for you, the misery deepens, complicating an already tumultuous situation. Amidst the chaos, one thing remains clear - your heart belongs to Josh Lambert. OR: Josh shows you who you belong to.

Wordcount: 11440

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, vaginal sex, smut, dirty talk, older man/ younger woman, daddy issues, face fucking, blowjob

A/N: There it is - the second part of my Josh x Reader stories. So I advise you to catch up on the first one before you read this one: Part 1: Pushing Further

Being a senior has its perks because you have the privilege to venture beyond the campus. While freshmen and those in between can also partake, the administration isn’t particularly fond of the idea.

The freedom to come and go as you please became a valuable asset, especially when it comes to visiting Josh at his house.

Josh, your friend’s father, is almost two decades your senior and divorced but also unbelievably hot and caring.

You got fortunate when you first had sex with him in Dalton and Chris’ room - you cleaned up and then chatted until they came by.

You still get wet when you think about that afternoon. It had been and still is, undoubtedly, the hottest thing you’ve ever done. You can still remember how it felt to have his cum inside your cunt dripping out while standing there, trying to appear normal while talking to Dalton and Chris and not like you just got absolutely wrecked by his dad.

Nevertheless, you decided unanimously that the sex in that room had been a one-time thing - the next time, he fucked you in your own dorm bed. And to avoid being caught by anyone, you decided it was safer to meet up at his place since it would have been hard to explain why he was in your room and not in his son’s.

So far, you haven’t talked about what exactly you are, but there is a silent acknowledgement that your connection goes beyond the superficial. Perhaps fueled by an underlying fear on his part - a fear of potential heartache. It’s as if he sees in you the power to evoke emotions that are both thrilling and terrifying. And he’s right with that - the whatever you have has the potential of stirring up dust for both of you.

Yet, there is a subtle yet undeniable gravitational force that draws you closer to Josh, and in turn, he reciprocates with a magnetic attraction.

But you know that your fondness for him goes beyond mere friendship or a feeling of infatuation - you genuinely like him.

As the year unfolds, so does the depth of your friendship with Chris and Dalton. Your bond remains steadfast, growing stronger with each shared moment. You make it a point to meet up as often as possible, cherishing the camaraderie and the sense of belonging that comes with it.

_____

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air as you, Dalton, and Chris settle into your usual spot at the café. It’s a cosy haven amidst the hustle and bustle of the outside world, a place where you can relax and enjoy each other’s company.

Chris’s eyes light up with excitement as she leans forward. “Hey, guys, I was thinking,” she begins, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “What do you say we do something fun this weekend? Maybe go on a road trip or check out that new exhibit downtown?”

Dalton nods eagerly in agreement. “That sounds like a blast! Count me in! We could even go camping if the weather’s nice.”

Your heart flutters at the thought of spending quality time with your friends, but as you consider their invitation, a pang of guilt tugs at your conscience. You already have plans for the weekend - plans with Josh that you can’t share with your friends.

With a regretful smile, you shake your head. “As much as I’d love to join you guys, I’ve already made plans for the weekend,” you explain, hoping they won’t press for details.

Chris raises an eyebrow, curiosity evident in her expression. “Oh? What kind of plans?”

You hesitate, knowing you can’t reveal the truth. “It’s, um, a family thing,” you reply vaguely, feeling a twinge of guilt at the half-truth. “You know how it is.”

Dalton nods in understanding, though there’s a hint of disappointment in his eyes. “No worries, we’ll catch you next time.”

As the conversation shifts to other topics, you can’t shake the feeling of unease that settles over you. Keeping secrets from your friends weighs heavily on your conscience, but the thought of betraying Josh’s trust is even more daunting.

With a heavy heart, you take a sip of your coffee, the bitter taste serving as a reminder of the complexities of your situation. As you sit in silence, lost in thought, you can’t help but wonder how long you can keep up the charade before the truth inevitably comes to light.

_____

The Saturday morning sun filters through the curtains as you make your way to Josh’s house. It’s early; the world is still waking up around you, but you’re filled with a sense of anticipation as you approach his doorstep. Each step brings you closer to the clandestine rendezvous you’ve been eagerly awaiting.

As you reach the familiar front door, you pause for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. You can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in your stomach, knowing that soon you’ll be wrapped in Josh’s arms, lost in the warmth of his presence.

With a steadying exhale, you reach out to knock, the sound echoing through the quiet morning air. Moments later, the door swings open, revealing Josh’s face, his eyes lighting up with a smile as he greets you.

His brown hair is tousled in a charmingly dishevelled way, and your breath catches in your throat. His stubble beard, meticulously groomed, frames his jawline perfectly, adding an air of ruggedness to his otherwise refined appearance. But it’s his piercing blue eyes, shining brightly with warmth and affection, that never fail to leave you spellbound.

Every time you lay eyes on him, it’s as if you’re struck by lightning, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of his undeniable handsomeness. His presence alone has a way of electrifying your senses, leaving you breathless and longing for more.

Dressed in a soft white shirt that hugs his toned arms and contours deliciously over his soft middle, Josh exudes an effortless allure. Paired with grey sweatpants and bare feet, he exudes a casual charm that only serves to enhance his appeal.

As you take in the sight of him standing before you, radiant and inviting, you can’t help but feel a surge of desire coursing through your veins. There’s an undeniable magnetism to him, a pull that draws you in closer with each passing moment.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice tinged with warmth. “I’m glad you’re here.”

A rush of relief floods through you at his words, dispelling any lingering doubts or anxieties. You return his smile, a sense of comfort settling over you in his presence.

“Me too,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

Without another word, Josh steps aside, inviting you into his home with a gentle gesture. As you cross the threshold, you can’t help but feel a sense of familiarity wash over you, as if you belong here with him.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, Josh wastes no time closing the distance between you, his arms enveloping you in a warm, reassuring embrace. The world around you fades into insignificance as he pulls you close, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

With a gentle yet firm grasp, he tilts your chin upwards, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. And then, without a word, his lips meet yours in a kiss that ignites a firestorm of emotion within you.

His kiss is tender yet passionate, a symphony of longing and desire that pulses between you with every beat of your heart. The softness of his lips against yours sends a wave of electricity coursing through your body, igniting every nerve ending with a spark of anticipation.

As you melt into his embrace, you feel a sense of completeness wash over you, as if every piece of your being has found its rightful place in his arms. The world falls away, leaving only the two of you suspended in a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips moving against yours, each kiss deepening the connection between you.

In that fleeting moment, nothing else matters except the overwhelming feelings that consume you. And as you bask in the warmth of his embrace, you know that this is where you belong - in his arms.

As you break from the hug, Josh leads you into his living room, the soft glow of the morning light bathing the room in a warm, inviting ambience.

Both of you sit down on the cushions, and he pulls you close, sighing softly and content. As you steal a glance at him, you feel your heart flutter, and you know that this is the moment you need to talk about your feelings.

There’s no easy way to broach the subject, no simple words to convey the complexities of your emotions.

“Josh,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, “there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

He turns to you, his blue eyes reflecting concern as he reaches out to gently squeeze your hand. “Of course, sweetheart. What’s on your mind?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the vulnerability of your confession. “It’s about us,” you say, the words tumbling forth hesitantly, and you see his brow furrow. “About where we stand, what we mean to each other.”

Josh listens intently, his expression a mix of understanding and apprehension - and fear. “Go on,” he urges softly, his voice trembling.

“It’s just...,” you begin, your voice faltering as you grapple with the weight of your emotions. “I care about you, Josh, more than I can put into words. But there are so many obstacles in our way.”

You pause, struggling to find the right words to convey the myriad of concerns swirling in your mind. “The age difference, the fact that you’re my friend’s dad... It’s all so complicated.”

Josh nods in understanding, his gaze softening with empathy. “I know,” he says gently, and as he continues, his voice gets quieter with every word until he is whispering. “Believe me, I’ve thought about all of that too. But none of it changes how I feel about you.”

His words wash over you like a soothing balm, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty. “I want something permanent with you,” you admit, your voice tinged with vulnerability. “Something real and lasting.”

A flicker of emotion crosses Josh’s features, his expression a mixture of tenderness and determination. “And so do I,” he replies, his voice unwavering.

“I want us to be in a proper relationship,” he continues, his words carrying a weight that fills the room. “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

The air seems to crackle with electricity as his declaration sinks in, and for a moment, you’re rendered speechless. His words echo in your mind, sending ripples of emotion cascading through your soul.

A soft smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you meet his gaze, your heart overflowing with warmth and affection. “I’d like that,” you say softly, your voice filled with a quiet certainty. “I’d like to be your girlfriend.”

The words feel right, settling into place like pieces of a puzzle finally coming together. In that moment, you know with absolute clarity that this is where you’re meant to be - in Josh’s arms, as his partner, his confidante, his love.

His face lights up with a radiant smile, his eyes alight with joy as he reaches out to take your hand in his. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice filled with sincerity. “You mean everything to me.”

As the weight of Josh’s words hangs in the air, a charged silence settles between you, filled with anticipation and longing. In that moment, without a word, he closes the gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender yet passionate kiss.

Time seems to stand still as the world fades away, leaving only the sensation of his touch, the warmth of his embrace. His kiss is like a symphony, each movement a melody that resonates deep within your soul.

In that fleeting moment, as you melt into each other’s embrace, you’re lost in a whirlwind of sensation, every nerve ending alight with the electricity of his touch. It’s a kiss that speaks volumes, a silent declaration of the love and desire that binds you together.

And as you pull away, breathless and flushed with emotion, and Josh’s brilliant blue eyes lock with yours, a surge of electricity courses through your veins, igniting a firestorm of desire within you. Without a word, he leans in once more, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that is both urgent and tender.

His hand cups your face with a gentle yet possessive touch, his fingers tracing the contours of your cheek as if committing every detail to memory. In that moment, there’s no room for doubt or hesitation, only the raw intensity of the connection between you.

The world falls away as you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips moving against yours, each kiss igniting a spark of longing and passion that burns brighter with each passing moment. It’s a dance of desire, a symphony of sensation that leaves you breathless and intoxicated with need.

_____

As the weekend unfolds in a whirlwind of love and laughter, you find yourself swept up in the magic of the moments shared with Josh. Each glance, each tender touch, serves as a poignant reminder of the deep connection you share, a connection that transcends the obstacles looming on the horizon.

Despite the challenges that lie ahead - the age difference and the complexities of your relationship with Dalton and Chris - you can’t help but revel in the joy of what you and Josh have found together.

But even amidst the euphoria of your budding romance, there’s a shadow that lingers in the recesses of your mind - the inevitable day when you’ll have to face the truth to confront the consequences of your choices. The thought of telling Chris and especially Dalton fills you with dread, like a Damocles sword hanging over your head, threatening to shatter the fragile peace you’ve found.

Yet, in the quiet moments shared with Josh, you find solace and strength, knowing that you’re not alone in this journey. He shares your fears and your doubts, but he’s also unwavering in his commitment to fight for what you have.

And so, hand in hand, heart in heart, you face the uncertainty of the future together, knowing that whatever challenges may come your way, you’ll confront them head-on, united in your love and determination.

As the sun sets on the blissful weekend spent in Josh’s company, a bittersweet sensation settles in the air. The time has come to bid farewell, though neither of you is quite ready to part ways.

Standing at the threshold of Josh’s front door, you exchange lingering gazes, each reluctant to break the spell of the moment. The weight of impending separation hangs heavy in the air, a silent reminder of the inevitable reality awaiting you both.

With a heavy heart, you muster the courage to speak, your voice soft but determined. “I wish this weekend didn’t have to end,” you confess, your words tinged with a hint of longing.

Josh nods in agreement, his gaze filled with a mixture of sadness and affection. “I know,” he replies softly, reaching out to take your hand in his. “But we’ll see each other again soon, I promise.”

The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, a reassuring reminder of the bond you share. “Do you want to meet up next week?” you ask tentatively, hoping to prolong the precious moments spent together.

A shadow of hesitation crosses Josh’s features, his brow furrowing with concern. “I’d love to, but I have the kids next weekend,” he explains, his voice tinged with regret. “It’s going to be a bit chaotic.”

Your heart sinks at the realisation that your time together will be limited, but you refuse to let disappointment overshadow the moment. “That’s okay,” you say, forcing a smile despite the twinge of sadness in your chest. “We’ll find a way to make it work, even if it’s just for a little while.”

A flicker of determination crosses Josh’s features as he meets your gaze, his eyes sparkling with resolve. “How about you come over during the week?” he suggests, a hint of excitement in his voice. “We could grab dinner or just spend some time together.”

A surge of warmth washes over you at his suggestion, the prospect of seeing him again filling you with renewed hope. “I’d like that,” you reply, a genuine smile gracing your lips. “I’d like that a lot.”

His hands gently cup your face, his touch sending a wave of warmth cascading through your body.

With a soft, reassuring touch, he smooths his hands over your cheeks, his fingers tracing the contours of your face with a gentleness that speaks volumes of his affection. The sensation is electric, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a spark of desire deep within.

With a gentle yet firm grasp, he angles your head upwards, his touch guiding you with instinctual ease. His eyes, a brilliant shade of blue, meet yours with a tenderness that steals your breath away, holding you captive in a moment of unspoken connection.

And then, without a word, his lips find yours in a kiss that is both tender and passionate, a testament to the depth of the emotions that bind you together. It’s a kiss filled with longing and promise, a silent vow to cherish each moment shared between you.

In that fleeting moment, as you melt into his embrace, you’re consumed by a whirlwind of sensation - the softness of his lips against yours, the warmth of his touch, the overwhelming surge of emotion that threatens to swallow you whole.

“See you next week, sweetheart,” Josh breathes, his voice laced with longing and affection as you reluctantly part from his embrace.

A bittersweet smile graces your lips at his words, the endearment wrapping around your heart like a comforting embrace. “Until next week,” you reply softly, your voice echoing with the same longing that fills his.

With one last lingering glance, you tear yourself away from Josh’s warmth, a pang of reluctance tugging at your heartstrings as you step out into the cool evening air.

The weight of impending separation hangs heavy in the air as you make your way back to your dorm at university, each step a reluctant retreat from the haven of Josh’s presence. The memory of his touch lingers on your skin, a lingering reminder of the love and connection you share.

_____

The familiar aroma of coffee envelops you as you and Dalton settle into your favourite spot at the café, the gentle hum of conversation providing a soothing backdrop to your afternoon. With steaming cups cradled in your hands, you both take a moment to savour the rich, comforting warmth of the brew.

“So, something strange happened the other day,” Dalton begins, his voice breaking through the tranquil ambience of the café. You glance up, the corners of your mouth quirking into a smile as you listen to him speak.

“What’s up?” you ask, curiosity piqued by the hint of intrigue in his tone.

Dalton shifts in his seat, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. “My brother was over at Dad’s place on Monday,” he explains, his brow furrowing slightly as he recalls the memory. “And he said he saw some women’s clothes in his house and so on.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, a surge of apprehension coursing through your veins. You try to maintain your composure, but the thud of your heart against your chest betrays the unease gnawing at your insides.

“Oh, really?” you reply, your voice carefully neutral despite the turmoil churning within you. “That’s... interesting.”

Dalton nods, his expression troubled. “Yeah, it is,” he agrees, his gaze fixed on the tabletop as if lost in thought. “I don’t know, it just seems weird, you know? I always thought maybe my parents would try again, but... I don’t know.”

His words hang heavy in the air between you, a palpable sense of unease settling over the table. You can sense the conflict brewing within Dalton, the uncertainty of the situation weighing heavily on his mind.

“What do you think about it?” he asks, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, a silent plea for reassurance amidst the storm of emotions swirling within him.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, choosing your words carefully before responding. “I can understand why you’d feel that way,” you say softly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his arm. “It’s natural to hope for your parents to reconcile, especially after everything they’ve been through.”

Dalton nods, his expression thoughtful as he processes your words. “Yeah, I guess so,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “But still, it’s just... weird, you know? I never expected Dad to have a girlfriend.”

You offer him a sympathetic smile, knowing that there are no easy answers to be found in situations like these. “It’s okay to feel that way,” you assure him, your voice gentle yet firm. “But at the end of the day, your dad deserves to be happy, just like anyone else.”

Dalton sighs, a hint of resignation in his expression as he nods in agreement. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he concedes, though you can still sense the lingering unease in his demeanour.

As you sit together in the quiet of the café, the weight of Dalton’s revelation hanging heavy in the air, you can’t help but feel a sense of foreboding creeping over you. The fear of him discovering the truth about you and his father gnaws at the edges of your consciousness, a dark shadow looming on the horizon.

But for now, all you can do is offer Dalton your support and understanding, hoping against hope that he won’t uncover the secret you’ve been desperately trying to keep hidden. And so, with a heavy heart and a silent prayer for guidance, you continue to navigate the delicate balance between truth and secrecy, unsure of what the future may hold.

Dalton fidgets with his coffee cup, his gaze fixed on the table as if lost in thought. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of silence, he lifts his head to meet your gaze, his expression tentative yet determined.

“Um…I…There is something else I have been meaning to ask…” he begins, his voice hesitant as he struggles to find the right words. “I was wondering if... maybe you’d want to go out with me sometime?”

His question catches you off guard, a rush of emotions flooding through you at his unexpected proposal. For a moment, you’re at a loss for words, the weight of his request hanging heavy in the air between you.

But as you gather your thoughts, you realise that you can’t accept his invitation, not when you’re already seeing his father. The thought of hurting him further fills you with guilt, but you know that you have to be honest with him.

“I... Dalton, I appreciate the offer,” you say gently, your voice tinged with regret. “But I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

His brow furrows in confusion, hurt flickering in his eyes as he struggles to process your response. “Why not?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitate, unsure of how much to reveal. “It’s just... complicated,” you begin, choosing your words carefully. “I’m already seeing someone.”

Dalton’s expression darkens, a shadow of disappointment crossing his features as he absorbs your words. “Oh,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the din of the café. “I didn’t realise...”

You reach out to place a comforting hand on his arm, offering him a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, Dalton,” you say softly. “I should have been clearer from the beginning. You’re a great guy, but... I just don’t have those kinds of feelings for you.”

His hurt is palpable, a tangible presence in the space between you. You can see the pain etched in the lines of his face the vulnerability in his eyes as he struggles to come to terms with your rejection.

“I understand,” he replies, his voice thick with emotion. “I just... I thought maybe...”

You can hear the hurt and confusion in his voice, and it breaks your heart to see him like this. You wish there were something you could say or do to ease his pain, but you know that some wounds run deeper than words can heal.

A furrow forms between his brows, his eyes reflecting a mix of hurt and confusion. “I... I thought you were interested too,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, we spend so much time together, and... I don’t know, I just thought...”

His words trail off, leaving an uncomfortable silence in their wake. You can see the turmoil churning within him, the weight of your revelation sinking in with each passing moment.

“I’m sorry, Dalton,” you say softly. “I never meant to lead you on. I value our friendship, but... I guess I didn’t realise how you felt.”

He nods, his expression pained as he struggles to come to terms with your words. “It’s just... it’s confusing,” he admits, his voice tinged with frustration. “I mean, you never mentioned that you were seeing someone. Not to me or Chris.”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the weight of his accusation bearing down on you. Guilt gnaws at your conscience, knowing that you’ve withheld the truth about your relationship with his father.

“It’s... it’s still pretty fresh,” you explain, your voice tinged with uncertainty. “I’m still just... figuring it out, I guess.”

Dalton’s brows knit together in confusion, his eyes searching yours for answers. “But...” he starts, a note of disbelief creeping into his voice. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

The guilt weighs heavily on your shoulders, a burden that threatens to suffocate you. “I... I don’t know,” you tell him, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I was just... keeping it private.”

Dalton’s expression remains puzzled, his confusion evident as he tries to make sense of your explanation. “So, who is it?” he presses, his tone tinged with curiosity. “Is it serious?”

You swallow hard, the weight of your deception pressing down on you like a lead weight. “Um... well, it’s someone I met recently,” you reply vaguely, your voice faltering as you struggle to find the right words. “And... yeah, it’s... it’s getting pretty serious.”

As the silence stretches between you, a heavy tension settles over the table, the weight of your deception hanging in the air. And when Dalton speaks again, his voice is tinged with a hint of sadness.

“I want to be happy for you, I really do,” he says softly, his eyes betraying a mix of hurt and resignation. “But I think I need some space to process all of this.”

Your heart sinks at his words, the realisation of the pain you’ve caused him hitting you like a punch to the gut. “I understand,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m sorry, Dalton. I never meant to hurt you.”

He nods, though the hurt in his eyes remains. “I know,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the din of the café. “I just... I need some time to figure things out.”

Before you can respond, Dalton rises from his seat, his movements stiff and uncertain. And with one last lingering glance, he turns and walks away, leaving you alone with the weight of your deception and the echoes of his pain ringing in your ears.

As Dalton’s footsteps fade into the distance, leaving you alone, a heavy silence settles over the café. The air feels thick with tension, each breath you take weighted with the guilt of your secret.

As you sit there, staring into your now lukewarm coffee, your mind races with thoughts of Dalton’s reaction when he inevitably discovers the truth about your relationship.

The realisation that Dalton harbours feelings for you catches you off guard, adding an unexpected layer of complexity to an already delicate situation.

You had always assumed Dalton viewed you as just a friend, never once considering that his feelings might run deeper. But now, with the truth laid bare, you can’t help but wonder how he will react when he learns that you are involved with his father.

The thought churns in your stomach, a knot of anxiety tightening with each passing moment. You hadn’t anticipated the depth of Dalton’s emotions nor the potential devastation his discovery could bring. The prospect of facing his hurt and anger fills you with a sense of dread, knowing that you will be the cause of his pain.

But even as you grapple with the implications of Dalton’s feelings, you know that you cannot hide the truth from him forever. Sooner or later, he will learn the truth, and you must be prepared to face the consequences of your actions.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you contemplate the difficult conversation that lies ahead.

But for now, all you can do is wait, trapped in the limbo of uncertainty, and pray that somehow, someway, you will find a way to navigate the tangled web of emotions that threatens to tear you apart.

With a deep sigh, you find yourself grasping for the lifeline of your phone, the urge to seek solace in Josh’s arms overpowering. Fingers trembling slightly, you unlock the screen and navigate to Josh’s contact, your heart pounding with desperate urgency, and you text him.

Hey,

Can I come over? I really need to see you right now…

Please?

The words spill from your fingertips, a plea born of desperation and the overwhelming need for solace.

Seconds stretch into eternity as you wait for a response, each passing moment feeling too long. Then, finally, a notification flashes across your screen, and you exhale a shaky breath as you read Josh’s reply.

Of course, you can come over. Is everything okay?

Relief floods through you at his words, a wave of gratitude washing away some of the anxiety that had threatened to drown you.

Without hesitation, you gather your belongings, the need to see your boyfriend overpowering any lingering doubts or hesitations.

With each step towards his house, the weight on your shoulders lifts slightly, replaced by a glimmer of hope that perhaps, in his embrace, you’ll find the strength to weather the storm raging within you.

Arriving at Josh’s doorstep, you knock eagerly, the sound echoing through the quiet evening air. The door swings open, revealing Josh’s familiar silhouette framed in the soft glow of the hallway light. Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you in a cocoon of comfort and security.

As you sink into his arms, the weight of your troubles begins to lift, replaced by the simple reassurance of being held by someone who cares. In that moment, as you bury your face in Josh’s chest, you know that you’re exactly where you need to be.

Then, as if sensing your need for a moment of connection, Josh pulls back ever so slightly, his hands gentle as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your face.

In that simple gesture, you feel a rush of gratitude and affection, a silent acknowledgement of the bond that exists between you. And before you can say a word, he leans forward, kissing your forehead softly.

The gesture sends a shiver down your spine, a tangible reminder of the depth of his care and concern for you. For a moment, you simply stand there, lost in the warmth of his touch and the softness of his lips against your skin.

With a wordless understanding, Josh steps back, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of tenderness and reassurance. He gestures for you to come inside, his silent invitation a promise of safety and comfort in the midst of the storm. With a grateful nod, you follow him into the warmth of his home.

As you settle into Josh’s living room, the weight of your troubles pressing heavily upon you, he takes a seat beside you. His blue eyes, usually so warm and inviting, now reflect a hint of concern. “So, what happened?” he asks gently, his voice a soft murmur that cuts through the silence.

“It’s about Dalton,” you continue, your words hesitant as you try to find the right way to explain. “Today, at the coffee shop... he...”

Josh’s brows furrow slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his features. “He what?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, his blue eyes searching your face for any signs of what happened that left you so distraught.

“He told me that he... has feelings for me,” you admit, the weight of the confession hanging heavy in the air between you.

His hand freezes mid-motion, his fingers tangled in his hair, his eyes widen in surprise, and his lips part slightly as he processes your words.

“I see,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with a mix of emotions you can’t quite decipher. He leans forward, his arms resting on the table, his muscles flexing slightly under the fabric of his shirt as he waits for you to continue.

You swallow hard, the weight of the conversation settling heavily on your shoulders. “I... I didn’t know how to respond,” you admit, your gaze dropping momentarily before meeting Josh’s again. “I care about him, of course, but not in the same way.”

You take a deep breath, feeling a knot form in your stomach as you gather the courage to speak your truth. “Josh,” you continue, your voice gaining strength, “I want you to know that I only want you.”

The room falls silent, the gravity of the conversation hanging heavy in the air. You watch Josh carefully, waiting for his response, the uncertainty gnawing at your insides.

His blue eyes meet yours, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty flickering within them. He leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair once more, the tousled strands falling across his forehead in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

His brow is furrowed slightly, and his lips are drawn into a thin line while the soft afternoon light filters through the window, casting a warm glow on his features and highlighting the gentle contours of his face.

For a long moment, he says nothing, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the walls of his living room. His eyes, a mesmerising shade of deep blue, reflect the turmoil of emotions swirling within him. His jaw clenches slightly, the muscles flexing beneath the surface as he grapples with his own thoughts and emotions. The silence stretches on, the tension between you growing more palpable by the second.

And then, finally, Josh’s eyes search yours, a hint of uncertainty clouding their usually bright blue depths. “Maybe... maybe someone like Dalton would be better for you,” he suggests quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

The words hit you like a ton of bricks, a shockwave of disbelief rippling through your body. You stare at him, the weight of his words sinking in with a sickening finality as your heart aches at the thought of losing him.

“But Josh,” you protest, your voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t want someone like Dalton. I want you.”

He meets your gaze, his eyes filled with a sadness you can’t bear to see. “I know,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with regret. “But maybe... maybe I’m not what you need.”

The words hang in the air between you, a painful reminder of the chasm that lies between your desires and reality. You want to reach out to him, to plead with him to see things differently, but the weight of his resignation holds you back.

At that moment, you realise that no matter how much you want things to be different, you can’t force Josh to change his mind.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to come to terms with the harsh reality of the situation. You had hoped that Josh would be the one to offer you solace in your time of need, but now, it seems that even he can’t fill the void that lies within you.

With a heavy heart, you rise from your seat, the weight of your sorrow pressing down on you like a physical burden. “I should go,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Josh nods, his expression filled with a sadness that mirrors your own. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I wish things could be different.”

But as you turn to leave, a surge of frustration and anger rises within you. You refuse to accept defeat without a fight, not when he clearly wants you as much as you want him. You whirl around to face Josh, determination flashing in your eyes.

“No, Josh,” you say firmly, the intensity of your emotions rising. “I won’t accept that. I won’t settle for someone else when all I want is you.”

He looks away, his expression troubled as he grapples with his own thoughts. “I just don’t know if this is such a good idea,” he admits, his voice filled with uncertainty.

You reach across the table, taking his hand in yours, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “Josh, look at me,” you say firmly, your voice filled with conviction as you wait for him to meet your eyes before continuing. “From the moment I met you, I knew there was something special between us. I wanted you then, and I want you now.”

His eyes widen in surprise at your outburst, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air between you. But you refuse to back down, the fire burning bright within you.

“I love you, Josh,” you declare, the words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them. “And I won’t let you push me away because you’re too afraid to face your own feelings.”

For a moment, the room is filled with a deafening silence, the tension crackling between you like electricity. And then, slowly but surely, Josh’s expression softens, his walls crumbling in the face of your unwavering resolve. He looks at you, his blue eyes searching yours for a moment before he finally speaks.

“I... I love you too,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper and filled with a tenderness that takes your breath away. “But I’m scared, sweetheart. I’m scared of what this could mean for us. Especially now that Dalton has feelings for you.”

You step forward, closing the distance between you until you’re standing mere inches apart. With a trembling hand, you reach out to cup his cheek, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down your spine.

“We can face this together,” you say softly, your voice filled with hope.

His gaze softens, a glimmer of affection and determination dancing in his eyes as he draws nearer. “Yes, we will,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle reassurance amidst the storm of emotions.

With his vow echoing in your ears, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a tender, desperate kiss. The initial brush of your lips ignites a fierce passion between you, each touch sparking a wildfire of desire that threatens to consume you both.

His body responds to your touch, drawing you in closer as if unable to get enough of you.

As you both lose yourselves in the passionate embrace, his hands roam over your back, pulling you nearer with each caress. His touch sends electric currents coursing through your veins, drawing you closer with an irresistible magnetism.

When he pulls back slightly with a soft groan, his eyes flutter closed, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he tries to steady himself. But the yearning between you is undeniable, pulling you back into each other’s arms with an irresistible force.

But before you can catch your breath, his lips find yours once again, reigniting the flames of passion that threaten to consume you both.

“I want you, Josh - only you,” you whisper breathlessly, the words a fervent declaration of your undying love and devotion.

His hands slide up your back, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine as he pulls you even closer as if trying to erase the space between you. You can feel the fervour in his embrace, his body trembling slightly with the intensity of his desire, his lips seeking yours with a hunger that matches your own.

“I can’t imagine wanting anyone else either, sweetheart,” Josh murmurs against your lips, his voice laced with raw emotion. “The way you make me feel... it’s indescribable.”

His words wash over you like a comforting wave, enveloping you in a cocoon of love and longing. In this moment, there is no doubt, no hesitation, only the overwhelming certainty of your connection.

With each word he speaks, you feel your heart swell with love for him, aching to express the depth of your emotions in return. But words seem inadequate in the face of such overwhelming passion, so instead, you let your actions speak for you.

You deepen the kiss, pouring all of your love and desire into the tender caress of your lips against his. as you lose yourself in the intoxicating rhythm of his kisses.

Feeling a surge of emotion overwhelming you, you break the kiss, your heart pounding in your chest as you take a deep breath.

With a shaky breath, you reach out, your fingers trailing lightly over his skin as you trace the contours of his jaw. His eyes never leave yours, a silent acknowledgement passing between you as you share this intimate moment.

With trembling hands, you slowly sink to your knees before him. The gravity of the moment washes over you like a tidal wave.

Looking up at him, your eyes meet his, a mixture of love, desire, and vulnerability reflected in their depths. There’s a raw intensity between you, a silent understanding of the depth of your connection and the magnitude of your feelings.

“Josh,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, filled with a mixture of reverence and longing. “I need you. I need us.”

You begin to trace delicate patterns over the fabric of his jeans, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath. Each touch sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you, igniting a fire that burns hot and fierce within your veins.

Josh watches you intently, his gaze locked on yours with an intensity that makes your heart race even faster. His breath hitches slightly as your fingers dance over his legs.

You can feel the tension building between you, a palpable energy that crackles in the air around you. It’s as if the world has faded away, leaving only the two of you in this moment of pure connection and desire.

With each caress, you feel yourself falling deeper and deeper under his spell, lost in the intoxicating whirlwind of sensation and emotion. There’s a hunger in his eyes, a silent plea for more, and you’re more than willing to oblige.

Your touch grows bolder, more urgent, as you trace the outline of his muscles, feeling the strength and power that lies beneath his clothes. His breath comes in short, ragged gasps, his chest rising and falling with each passing moment.

And as you continue to explore his body with your fingertips, you can’t help but marvel at the beauty and complexity of the man before you. He’s so much more than just a physical being - he’s a soul, a heart, a mind, all wrapped up in one irresistible package.

As Josh watches before him, his eyes widen with a mix of surprise and excitement. Without hesitation, you quickly reach for the waistband of his pants, your fingers deftly undoing the button and zipper. With a swift motion, you push his trousers and boxers down to his ankles, and he steps out of them gracefully.

His erection springs free, thick and hard, glistening with anticipation, and you can’t help but lick your lips as you take in the sight. The dim light of the room dances across his skin, highlighting every curve and contour of his muscular frame.

His breath comes in short, ragged gasps, his chest rising and falling with anticipation. There’s a hunger in his eyes, a primal desire that mirrors your own. He reaches out to you, his hand trembling slightly as he cups your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. “I can’t believe you’re here with me, doing this.”

His words send a thrill coursing through you, igniting a fire that burns hot and fierce within your veins. You lean into his touch, your heart pounding in your chest as you feel the heat of his body radiating against your skin.

You reach out and wrap your hand around the base of his dick, causing his breath to hitch and his eyes to roll back in his head. He is hot and heavy in your hand, thick enough that you can’t close your fingers around him as you jerk him off slowly.

After a few pumps, you swirl your tongue over the head of his cock, coating him in your saliva and tasting his precum. Josh groans lowly in his chest as you tease him with your mouth.

The whole situation turns you on beyond belief, and you really like how responsive and loud he can be - it gives you the confidence to continue and take it even further.

So you open your mouth and take the tip inside, sucking lightly as your hand continues to stroke his length.

As Josh’s hands find their way into your hair, gently gripping the strands, you feel a rush of electricity shoot through your body. His touch is both commanding and tender, his fingers threading through your hair with a delicate precision that sends shivers down your spine.

His breath comes in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling with each ragged exhale. His eyes flutter shut, lashes brushing against his cheeks as he succumbs to the pleasure radiating from your touch.

“Christ, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice rough and strained with desire. “You know how to drive me crazy. Keep doing that, please…”

His words send a thrill coursing through you, igniting a fire that burns hot and fierce within your veins. You continue to take him deeper into your mouth, relishing in the way he responds to your touch, his body trembling with anticipation.

As his fingers tighten in your hair, you feel a surge of desire and unconsciously clench your things.

The sensation of your warm mouth enveloping further causes his breath to hitch in his throat as he gasps in ecstasy.

His moans grow louder, echoing off the walls of the room as the sensation threatens to overwhelm him. “Sweetheart, that feels incredible,” he groans, his voice husky with desire.

When you run your fingernails over his balls while pleasuring him with your mouth, he bucks his hips, causing his cock to be pushed down your throat.

You gag from the sudden intrusion and instantly feel tears pooling in your eyes.

Josh keeps his dick deep inside your mouth until he realises you’re gagging on him. His grip on your hair slackens, and his eyes widen with concern as he pulls back slightly, watching you carefully.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to push it that far,” Josh’s voice is filled with genuine concern, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

But before he can say anything more, the words tumble from your lips without a second thought. “Fuck, do it again,” you gasp, your voice hoarse with desire as you struggle to catch your breath.

His face contorts into a mix of surprise and excitement, his eyes widening in disbelief at your bold request. But he won’t hesitate for your pleasure. With renewed determination, he gently pushes his cock back into your throat.

You gag again, but this time you’re more prepared for his dick, so it’s easier to take it. His fingers tangle in your hair, a firm grip that sends a thrill down your spine as he takes control of the situation.

Looking up at him, you’re struck by the sight before you. His mouth is slightly parted, lips glistening with anticipation as his tongue occasionally darts out to moisten them. His brows knit together in concentration, a display of the focused desire that burns within him.

Beads of sweat adorn his forehead, catching the light and casting a soft sheen over his features. His blue eyes, usually so warm and inviting, now smoulder with a fiery intensity that ignites a passionate flame within you.

As he guides your movements with a gentle yet firm hand, you feel a rush of excitement course through your veins. Each touch, each stroke, sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, building the anticipation to dizzying heights.

In the heat of the moment, you find yourself lost in his gaze, captivated by the raw hunger that burns within him. His touch is electric, sending sparks dancing across your skin as he guides his cock deeper into your throat.

Saliva pools around his dick and drips over your chin and onto the floor as you gag lightly with each thrust.

Josh’s hips pick up pace as he continues to fuck your mouth, driving himself closer to climax. And as you surrender to the passion that courses through you, you know that this moment will be etched into your memory forever.

His breath is ragged, his chest rising and falling with each laboured breath as he pulls out of your mouth, his dick coated with your spit.

Almost greedily, you take a few deep breaths to fill your lungs with air again properly as you try to steady yourself after the intensity of the moment.

Worldlessly he steps closer to you, his hard cock still glistening with your saliva and his precum, framed by his shirt that sits clings tight to his defined frame, accentuating his toned arms and soft middle.

Bending down, he presses his lips against yours, his tongue eagerly seeking entrance as he pulls you up to stand. The kiss is electrifying, sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through your veins as you lose yourself in the sensation of his touch.

With a primal need driving him, Josh breaks the kiss, his lips parting from yours as he slowly removes his shirt. As the fabric slips off his shoulders, it reveals the expanse of his chest, every muscle rippling beneath smooth skin. He tosses the shirt aside without a second thought, his gaze never leaving yours.

You follow suit, fingers fumbling with the buttons of your own shirt until it falls away, leaving you bare before him.

There’s a moment of hesitation, a fleeting pause as you drink in the sight of each other, the raw desire reflected in your eyes. The sight of him, shirtless and exposed, sends a shiver down your spine.

Appreciatively, you let your eyes wander over his defined, muscular arms - the play of light and shadow accentuates the contours of his muscles, creating a mesmerising display of power and grace.

As your eyes roam over his torso, your gaze is drawn to the dusting of brown and grey chest hair that adorns it. Each strand seems to catch the light, creating a subtle shimmer that adds to his allure.

You trace the trail of hair with your eyes, following it as it leads over the softness of his middle, which is a gentle curve that speaks of warmth and comfort. It’s a stark contrast to the chiselled lines of his arms, yet somehow, it only adds to his allure.

His skin is warm to the touch, and you can feel the heat radiating off him as he moves closer to you.

His gaze roams hungrily over your exposed skin, tracing the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts, and the line of your collarbone.

Without a word, you step closer, closing the distance between you until you’re standing mere inches apart. His hand finds its way to the small of your back, pulling you into his form until your bodies are pressed together, skin against skin, heart against heart.

His touch is electric, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your veins as you lose yourself in the sensation of him. The fire that burns within you is fuelled by him.

“I’m going to fuck you hard, sweetheart,” he growls, low and primal deep in Josh’s chest, sending a shiver down your spine as you feel the intensity of his desire wash over you. It’s a sound that speaks volumes, letting you know exactly what he plans to do with you in the moments to come.

His eyes, dark with passion, lock onto yours with a hunger that sets your heart racing. There’s an unmistakable longing in his gaze, a fierce desire that leaves no room for doubt about his intentions.

He lifts your legs up, resting them on his shoulders as he positions himself at your cunt.

You moan loudly when the tip of his hard, thick cock parts your slick pussy, entering you without resistance. The stretch of his dick sends shivers down your spine as he continues to push it slowly into you.

This is the first time he takes you without proper preparation - normally, he would eat you out or at least finger you before, but you can’t bring yourself to really care.

Not when he feels so good, so right, and so big inside you.

Josh’s intense blue eyes remain fixed on you, unwavering as they drink in your every reaction. It’s as though he’s trying to memorise every detail of your face, committing the moment to memory as he loses himself in the depths of you.

You mewl when he bottoms out deep in your cunt, filling you completely.

“You feel so good, Josh,” you whisper breathlessly, your chest heaving with desire. “Please, move.”

Your words hang in the air, thick with longing and anticipation, as you await his response. Josh’s gaze darkens with desire, his lips parting slightly.

With a low growl of approval, he shifts his weight, his movements deliberate and controlled as he begins to move against you, his hips setting a steady, deep rhythm. The sensation of his body moving with yours sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you.

As he moves, his hands roam over your body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You gasp at the sensation of his touch, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

With each movement, the pleasure builds, the tension between you reaching a fever pitch as you both give in to the undeniable chemistry that burns between you. At this moment, there is nothing else in the world, but the two of you lost in a sea of desire and passion.

And as you cling to each other, consumed by the heat of the moment, you know that this is just the beginning of a night that promises to be filled with ecstasy and bliss.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says, his voice hoarse with desire. “Take it.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire deep within you as you move together in perfect harmony. Every touch and every movement is electric, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you with each passing moment.

“God, you’re so hot,” he groans, his eyes locked on your heaving chest. His words only fuel the flames of passion between you, driving you both to new heights of ecstasy.

His thrusts become more forceful, each one driving deeper into your pussy. The smell of your sweat mingles with the slick sounds of our skin slapping against each other.

He slowly lowers his head, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and sucking hard, igniting every nerve ending it touches with a searing intensity. You arch your back, a moan escaping from your lips as he teases the sensitive nub with his tongue.

His lips follow, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses in their wake, each one leaving you gasping for breath.

“You’re so damn responsive for me,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice husky with desire. His hands roam freely over your body, tracing the curves and contours with a possessive urgency that sends a thrill down your spine as he moves to capture the other nipple between his teeth gently.

“Only for you, just you,” you mewl, your voice barely a whisper as you surrender to the overwhelming pleasure washing over you.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he grunts out, his words punctuated by the soft sounds of his lips trailing lower, his breath hot against your skin.

His hands grip your thighs tightly as he drills into you, his cock hitting all the right spots inside you.

You feel like he electrifies you, setting every nerve ending ablaze with a tantalizing intensity. With each caress, each whispered word, each deep thrust, he ignites a fire deep within you, stoking the flames of desire until they burn with an almost unbearable intensity.

You feel yourself teetering on the edge, the pleasure building with each passing moment until you’re on the brink of losing yourself entirely to the intoxicating sensation he evokes within you, your cunt clenching around him.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” his voice is rough with desire as he encourages you, each word sending a jolt of electricity through your body as he pushes deeper and faster into you.

His chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, the exertion of pleasure etched across his features as sweat beads on his forehead glistening in the dim light.

“Nobody fucks me like you do. Nobody pleases me like you do,” you stammer, your words a mixture of moans and gasps, “You feel so good, Josh.”

“You belong to me,” he growls possessively, his voice thick with desire and dominance, his hips slamming against yours as he takes you roughly. The headboard of the sofa thuds against the wall with each powerful thrust.

His eyes, darkened with desire, lock onto yours, his gaze filled with intensity as he thrusts deeper into you. He dominates you with a primal energy, his every touch igniting a fire within you. As the pleasure builds, you feel yourself getting closer to climax, the intensity of the moment overwhelming yet exhilarating.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you feel the tension building within you, reaching a fever pitch. “I’m so close,” you whimper, the desperation evident in your voice.

His own breath comes in ragged gasps as he urges you on, his voice a deep growl of desire. “Let it all go, sweetheart,” he encourages, his hands gripping your hips as his hips thrust rapidly into you and his thumb finding your clit to rub rough circles. “I want to feel you come apart in my arms.”

With his encouragement ringing in your ears, you give yourself over to the overwhelming pleasure that courses through your body. Every nerve ending is alight with sensation as you tumble over the edge, waves of ecstasy crashing over you in relentless waves.

He watches you with hunger in his eyes, his own release imminent as he follows you into oblivion. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own climax. “Let me feel you.”

With one final, desperate cry, you shatter into a million pieces, the intensity of your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave as his name falls from your lips over and over. And as you collapse against him, spent and sated, his fingers dig into your hips for better control as he drives into you one last time.

He releases himself into you, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. His hot seed pumps into you, filling every inch of your tight cunt as he loses control completely.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes heavily, still buried deep inside you. You feel your pussy clenching and throbbing, pulsating with the aftermath of your orgasm, milking his aching dick.

With your bodies still intertwined, he holds you close, unwilling to let go of the intimate connection you’ve just shared. His chest rises and falls in sync with your own, the rhythm of his breath gradually steadying as the euphoria of your shared passion begins to ebb. His cock remains inside you, refusing to let go of the warmth that is your pussy.

“I’ve never felt anything like this before,” he pants, his voice husky with emotion as he continues to hold onto your hips as his dick twitches inside you, slowly softening. “You’re incredible, sweetheart.”

Your heart swells with affection at his words, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you in a sense of security and belonging. “You’re incredible, Josh,” you whisper, your voice barely above a murmur as you nestle closer to him.

“I love hearing that,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin as he slowly withdraws from you.

His cock slides out with a wet pop sound, leaving behind a trail of their mixed juices on your thighs. His gaze lingers on you, filled with a mixture of adoration and desire, as his chest rises and falls rapidly.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he says, his voice thick with desire, his eyes tracing the curves of your body with unabashed admiration. He reaches down, his fingers brushing against your wet and well-fucked cunt, and a soft moan escapes his lips as he feels the warmth of your juices mingled with his own.

His lips find yours in a tender kiss, a silent testament to the depth of his affection.

As you break apart, Josh’s blue eyes sparkle with a mixture of adoration and gratitude, the soft light of the room reflecting off their depths like a shimmering pool. His skin is dewy with sweat, a sheen of moisture glistening on his smooth complexion as he leans in to kiss you once more.

His muscles flex beneath the surface of his skin, the sinewy lines of his arms defined and sculpted from years of hard work and dedication. You run your fingers lightly over his torso, tracing the contours of his body with a sense of wonder and appreciation.

Josh’s hair is sweaty and tousled, strands of brown falling haphazardly across his forehead as he leans in to kiss you again. His breath is warm against your skin, his touch gentle yet possessive as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss with a sense of urgency and desire, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and protection.

His stubbled jaw clenches with a mixture of desire and restraint, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggles to contain the intensity of his emotions.

As you lose yourself in the moment, the sound of footsteps echoing through the house brings you back to reality with a jolt. Panic courses through you as you scramble to dress, the urgency of the situation pressing in on you like a suffocating weight.

Josh moves quickly, reaching for his shorts and tossing you his shirt as you both try to cover yourselves before the inevitable confrontation.

But it’s too late. Before you can even process what’s happening, the door swings open, revealing Dalton standing in the doorway, his expression a mask of shock and betrayal.

Your heart sinks as you meet his gaze, the guilt of being caught washing over you like a tidal wave. Shame burns hot in your cheeks as you shrink back, trying to make yourself as small as possible in the face of Dalton’s accusing glare.

“Wha- What the hell is this?” Dalton stammers, his voice filled with disbelief as he takes in the scene before him.

But Josh steps in front of you, his protective instincts kicking in as he shields you from Dalton’s wrath. His jaw is set with determination, his blue eyes blazing with a fierce intensity as he meets Dalton’s gaze head-on.

“Dalton,” he says firmly, his voice tinged with warning.

But Dalton’s eyes are filled with hurt and betrayal as he looks between the two of you, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place in his mind. His anger is palpable as he takes in the sight before him, his fists clenched at his sides as he struggles to contain his emotions.

“I can’t believe this,” he says bitterly, his voice trembling with emotion. “I confessed my feelings to you, and this is what you do? Fucking my father?”

The accusation hangs heavy in the air between you, casting a shadow over the fragile happiness you had shared just moments before. His words cut deep, a stark reminder of the tangled web of emotions and secrets that now threatens to unravel before you.

Josh’s jaw tightens, his eyes flashing with a mixture of frustration and regret as he struggles to find the right words. “Dalton, I... I never meant to hurt you,” he begins, his voice heavy with remorse. “I know this is difficult to understand, but...”

But Dalton’s fury is unrelenting, his eyes blazing with a fire that threatens to consume everything in its path. “Difficult to understand? You’re sleeping with my friend, Dad.” he retorts, his voice laced with bitterness. “She could be your daughter!”

The accusation cuts deep, slicing through the fragile facade of peace and happiness that you had clung to just moments before. Shame washes over you in waves, threatening to drown you in its suffocating embrace as you struggle to find the words to defend yourself.

You feel a pang of guilt at the hurt in Dalton’s eyes, knowing that you are the cause of his pain. But before you can offer an explanation, he turns to you, his gaze filled with betrayal. “And you,” he says, his voice trembling with emotion. “I thought I could trust you. I thought you cared about me.”

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, the weight of Dalton’s accusation crushing you beneath its weight. “Dalton, I...” you begin, your voice faltering as you search for the right words. But the damage has already been done, the rift between you widening with each passing moment.

But Dalton shakes his head, his eyes clouded with anger and confusion. “I don’t want to hear it,” he says bitterly, his voice barely above a whisper.

But before you can speak again, Josh reaches out, his hand finding yours in a gesture of comfort and support. Instantly, you feel a sense of reassurance wash over you, the warmth of his touch offering solace in the midst of chaos.

Dalton recoils at the sight, his face contorted with disgust at the intimate gesture. “I can’t believe you would do this to me, Dad. And you,” he adds, turning his gaze to you, “you should be ashamed of yourself.”

With that, he turns and storms out of the room, leaving you and Josh alone in the wake of his departure. The silence that follows is deafening, a stark reminder of the pain and heartache that now fills the space between you.

Josh squeezes your hand gently, his eyes filled with sorrow and regret. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I never wanted things to end up like this.”

You nod as your heart is heavy with guilt and uncertainty. “I know,” you reply softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But we have to find a way to fix this. For Dalton’s sake and for ours.”

Josh nods in agreement, his expression filled with determination. “I’ll talk to him,” he says firmly, his eyes meeting yours with unwavering resolve. “I’ll make him understand.”

A sense of hope stirs within you. The road ahead may be difficult, but with Josh by your side, you know that together, you can overcome any obstacle that stands in your way.

#patrick wilson #patrick wilson x reader #patrick wilson smut #the conjuring #ed warren #insidious #fanfiction #josh lambert #insidious smut #josh lambert x reader #josh lambert smut #orm marius #aquaman #insidious fanfiction #insidious the red door #aquaman the lost kingdom #aquaman and the lost kingdom

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norrisreads · 6 months

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Dangerous Woman 2 #CS55

PAIRING: carlos sainz x reader!, non racer carlos sainz jr x reader!

SUMMARY: being arranged married to carlos sainz, will the both of you work the marriage or will the next step be signing the divorce papers

WARNINGS: age gap, arranged married related, no smuts! tensions ofc, will be a 4 part series, inc of smau! angst, fluff (in the future?)

part 1

full masterlist

Carlos definition of a date in his mind was a normal casual dinner date, not a date where the both of you would’ve enjoyed because right now while waiting for both of your food to arrived, there was a thick air of tension surrounding both of you.

“will you explain what is going on or are we supposed to sit here in silence?” you spoke, cutting off his train of thoughts

not far from your table you could notice the presence of the trio that was peeping towards your table, it’s not a secret when they’re out there wearing the exact same thing that you last saw them in.

“i’m aware lando have told you i’ve broken up with her” nodding your head agreeing to the statement

“I’ll appreciate if i could rekindle this situation, slowly”

now, you’re laughing because why now? why rekindle after a year?

“that’s funny sainz, the last thing i’ve heard from you was that you threw away our friendship over, just because you thought this marriage would meddle in to your relationship”

“you would’ve done the same thing, y/n. you don’t understand”

What did he meant that you wouldn’t understand? what about the nights you sobbed to him about how much you’ve loved your ex, but your parents would never approve of him which led the both of you to part ways

“i would’ve done the same thing carlos, but i couldn’t. it’s different for me because i’m not the head of the family, i’m just a woman who has to listen to everything my father says. I loved him, but i couldn’t do it anymore so i truly understand carlos. I’ve never once threw away our friendship but instead you, you’re selfish and you’re unaware of it”

you expected a reply but all he gave you was a slight nod agreeing to whatever you’ve just told him

“let’s just eat, we’re here anyways, and it would be great if those trios of yours join us instead of trying to hide themselves, because it’s not working”

it’s been two weeks since then, there was an improvement in carlos attitude towards you, he would pick you up daily from your shifts, asked you out to dinner and he’s actually treating you like a wife should have been treated, which was odd but it did healed a part of your heart knowingly this is exactly the way you wanted to be treat as a wife.

“you’ve been nothing but glowing these past few days, what’s going on?” you’re currently on face-time with your best-friend, casually keeping up with each other gossips

“it’s carlos, he’s been treating me differently ever since that dinner date” setting up your phone on your table, while you’re removing your left over makeup

“well that’s great isn’t it? you guys are married so, least he could do is start treating you like a wife”

your best friend have always had a grudge towards Carlos, ever-since you’ve told her about both yours and Carlos rough past

“yeah and i guess im still getting used to it, but she’s gonna come back anytime sooner, this isn’t the first and surely would not be the last”

sighing while removing your makeup, from your phone screen you could see your best friend shrugging her shoulders agreeing with whatever you’ve just said to her

“he does that everytime, y/n. it’s all up to your choices love”

just then you heard your front doors open with voices trailing behind, “i think he’s homed, i’ll text you in a while, love you”

with that you ended the call with your best-friend and walked to your living room only to be greeted with carlos and his friends

“is there something going on today?” you were confused, you weren’t aware of the invitation of his friends over to your house

“they were just stopping by for dinner, would you like to join us?”

“It’s alright, your mom came by and brought over some food. I’ll just heat them up for you guys”

with that, carlos left the kitchen to entertain his friends

you weren’t particularly fond of his friends, other than the three who’s always around the both of you, these friends were different

you knew the friend group that he sticks by has been there for him since childhood and they’ve particularly were more fond of her rather than you.

there were many times you’d eavesdrop their conversations and those times were when you’d listen to their bad remarks about your marriage.

you knew who carlos ex girlfriend was, you’ve met her multiple times due to carlos and your family gathering that’s on-going for every year.

you’d be lying if you think she wasn’t beautiful because she is, no one knew but you’d sometimes compare the both of you because clearly she was the better looking.

your train of thoughts left your mind when you felt hands snaking around your waist

“what’s going on with that mind of yours, i’ve been calling for you to join us”

you could smell that strong perfume of his and a tint of sweetness which you for sure know it’s neither his nor yours because the perfumes you wore were always citrusy scents, and that was one sign you should have never choose to ignore

taglist ; @iissza @spngi @sainzluvrr @slut4lando

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a/n : thank you for the support & love for dangerous woman 🥹! i’ve received multiple inboxs asking when will i post the next part, so here you go <3!

#f1 x reader #f1 fics #f1 x y/n #f1 smau #carlos sainz 55 #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz one shot

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 year

Text

My Dear Wife - Lloyd Hansen Series

Character: Lloyd Hansen x Rich!Female Reader

Words Count: 3200

Summary: Our reader was safe from the hostage situation, and she got her answer for all her problems. But did she make the right choice being married to a lunatic sociopath?

Check out Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 (Extra Story)

A/N: This is the continuous chapter from 3 Billion Divorce. <<<Check it out if you haven't read it.

And check out my other stories from Masterlist.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Thank you so much for reblogging the first chapter. 💕💕

I want to write the aftermath of the day Lloyd came to the reader's office with the divorce paper.

But I feel the story would be better when both characters get to know each other.

I would appreciate any comments and feedback you can give me. Please tell me if you have any ideas and feedback for part 3.

Don't be shy if you want to be tagged for part 3. 😄💕

In the family, there will always be an evil uncle, aunt, or cousin who says hurtful things. Their bullet would be:

"Why are you still single?"

"How much is your salary?"

"When will you get married?"

"My son/daughter just got promoted or bought a new apartment."

They will say anything to make their family better than anyone else.

The only choice is to ignore them and not return for another family gathering.

But with you, it's a different case. You wished they would say hurtful things rather than try to get rid of you.

They have shown you their true colors after your grandfather's funeral.

Their first act was you woke up at a mental hospital with the note that you're delusional.

You ran away and sued the hospital.

They even use your friend to spike your drinks. Since that day, you lost your friend, and you never took a sip that was being offered to you.

You almost got killed on the airplane, but the pilot didn't want to risk his life, so he told you the truth.

You can't even stay at your own house. Cause assassins always break in to get you while you're asleep.

That's just some of the cases.

After the suffering, you've been facing all these years.

It's time to get revenge.

You got an instant husband who is an expert at handling problems.

After your secretary sent the money, Lloyd untied the rope around your hands. What a paranoid man; he didn't trust you until he got the money.

"Mr. Hansen, where is my bodyguard?" You couldn’t stop worrying about Jimmy after the car crash. You didn’t know what happened to him.

He is still sitting and reading the contract. "Aren't we supposed to be husband and wife? Call me Lloyd, or hubby, or babe. Take your pick."

Lloyd wants to tease you and is curious about your response.

You’re not amused with his jokes, "Lloyd, I want my bodyguard to be alive and healthy."

Oh well, you’re not in the mood for jokes. He snapped his finger to his soldier to come forward. The soldier speaks softly, almost whispering, "Her bodyguard lost too much blood."

Lloyd clenched the soldier's collar, forced him to bend, and pointed his gun. "I don't care, treat him. If he needs to bathe in blood, so be it. Or do you want to pay the penalty of 3 billion?"

"No sir." The soldier shook his head and started to run.

He put down the contract and clapped his hands. "Good news sweetheart, your bodyguard is resting. He got dehydrated."

"So what does my precious wife want me to do?"

He strolls towards you. "Do you want to finish them as quickly as possible or slowly by torturing them?"

"The second choice."

"I thought you wanted them gone."

You scoffed. "They will lose their will to live when they see me become the head of the company."

Lloyd felt a shiver when you said that. He likes it when you sound desperate but bossy at the same time.

"I need to ask you, are you sure you want to pay me that much money? I could give you a discount if you want."

You shook your head. "It doesn't matter to me as long as I'm alive."

You walk around him while your eyes stay focused, looking at his blue eyes. "I see how you work, kind of spontaneous but deadly. You immediately betrayed my relative after I offered you more money."

Suddenly you stopped and smirked, "That means you're not afraid or just don't give a shit. I need a fearless man who is also a lunatic at the same time."

"Besides, I'm worth more than 40 million dollars."

He felt shiver again, and now his heart was beating loudly. He doesn't understand why.

Lloyd's hands cover his face. "Stop, stop, I'm blushing because of your compliment."

"We could write this into our marriage vows."

You rolled your eyes. "By the way, is there any room that I could use? I want to rest."

Lloyd smirked, "Oh honey, I haven't decorated the bedroom for our wedding night."

You sighed heavily, your finger running through your hair."Lloyd, Right now, your wife is exhausted, 4 hours ago, I thought I would die. I have no energy to banter with your joke."

"Okay princess." Lloyd raised his hands; he knew it was time to stop teasing you. "My man will take you to your bedroom. By the way, my room is next to yours. If you feel lonely, just knock." He winked at you.

You rolled your eyes. "Ooh, and I want to have breakfast tomorrow. Black coffee and egg Benedict."

‘GASP!' Everyone inside the house was astonished at how brave you were giving orders to their boss.

"Don't tell me 1 billion is not enough to get me proper food?"

You shook your head.

Lloyd looked at you.

You didn't know the last time someone gave him an order, that person got thrown into the sea.

This is the first time a guest has ordered breakfast in his mansion. To be exact, a former hostage became an honorary guest in his house.

At the stairs, you look down at him. "Don't make me regret investing in you, Lloyd."

His jaw twitched, but he stared at your back without replying.

He never tries to prove himself. But to you, he has too. He doesn't want to disappoint you since you gave him so much money.

God, he loved a challenge.

He snapped his fingers to call the servants, "Tell our chef to give his best for tomorrow."

After you closed the door behind you, you finally took a breath.

Honestly, you didn’t plan to sleep, but after you find the answer to your problem, you feel somewhat relieved, and the fatigue you've been holding in for four years finally releases and drains your energy.

It’s a funny world; you feel safer sleeping in a house full of guns. Everyone here wears weapons like accessories.

*****

While you are resting on the second floor, everyone is working since Lloyd orders his IT team to start looking at your family.

It will take a while to get the info; while waiting, Lloyd took a cigarette to the terrace. He took a deep puff and exhaled smoke as he looked at the garden.

He thought he could finish this job easily. But now it’s more complicated.

‘BZZT’ The sudden vibrating phone woke Lloyd from his deep thoughts. He grins when he sees the caller.

"There's a new job for you." That British accent sounds annoyed, probably caused by Susan's nagging.

"Can't. I'm busy."

"I thought you'd done with the last mission."

"That one is done. This one is different."

"What is it?"

"I got married."

"...."

"You're… not… laughing. Are you serious? With who?"

"Y/N L/N."

Lloyd moved his ears away from the phone because Carmichael cursed too loudly.

"L/N? Don't tell me she's from the conglomerate family L/N & Co?"

"Yes."

"I heard she will be appointed as the leader next year. Lloyd, you lucky bastard."

"Thanks man. Hey, can you send all the files of the L/N family?"

"Sure. Consider this as a wedding gift from me."

That phone call was short but helpful. The best part is Carmichael didn't ask questions and was ready to help him.

In a few minutes, Lloyd received the files. It seems like the CIA has been sniffing around. Everything is here.

Your grandfather has eight kids, but after your father died, that left seven kids. 5 aunts and two uncles, that’s how many opponents you have to deal with.

The fight is different with your uncle and aunts because they don’t mind getting their hands dirty as long as they achieve their goals.

The files have dirt ready to use if the agency wants to blackmail your family. Your uncles embezzled the company money; there are also some cases of sexual harassment.

Your aunts do money laundry using their art gallery and boutique shops. Their husbands are politicians, it's obvious they received a bribed.

He got the info and everything he needed, and next, he opened your files.

Only your father chose to be low profile. He handles car manufacturers. He’s good at his job, and the car he designed improved. Your mother is just an ordinary housewife. Your family is quite normal than other relatives.

But the normal life is gone when your two uncles fail a mega project and humiliate the family business. It made your grandfather mad.

Your grandfather chose your father as the next successor, but before the official announcement, your parents died in a car accident.

It is still a mystery where the driver went missing.

There’s a big question mark on the files. A big chance the one who hired the assassins is in your family.

Your grandfather took you in, and you became a prodigy under his wings. Everyone knew you would be the next successor.

After high school, you decided to study abroad, not in an Ivy League university your grandfather told you to attend. This is the first time you disobey him.

He only participated in your graduation and asked you to get a master's at Harvard.

Lloyd chuckled about the fact you went to the same university “No shit, she's a fellow alumnus.”

This time you did what he asked. While getting a master, your work in the company as an intern. It was difficult, but you learned a lot.

The way you work in business also improved; your grandfather often asks your opinion to find solutions. The interaction between you both made others jealous.

There’s also a hospital record of a car and ski accident. All the evidence showed all the equipment was broken on purpose.

"Such a heartless family." Lloyd shook his head; after he dug deeper, he realized your family is more complicated than he thought. Money is more important than blood.

After finding out what happened, there’s an uneasy feeling knowing you’re alone right now.

Lloyd went into your room to check in; he knew this house security was top-notch, but it doesn’t hurt to check. He could talk to you until you fell asleep if you were still awake.

When he went in, he saw you sleeping peacefully.

You were wrapped in a white blanket like a burrito. He looked at you, defenseless like a bunny.

He leaned down a bit before sitting at the side of the bed; you didn’t even notice. You must be exhausted.

He can’t imagine if he were in your position—four years of running and hiding. Surviving without any military background is quite impressive.

Lloyd knew his job was to protect you and stay professional, but right now, he couldn't help feeling protective towards you; he wanted to get all your relatives to the basement and torture them to death.

“Don't worry, I won't let you get hurt. I swear in the name of 3 billion dollars." He whispered before leaving the room.

Usually, he doesn’t care if his client is satisfied with how he does his work. But with you, he wants to see you smiling and proud at his job.

*****

The next day,

The sun was beaming through her blinds, causing you to stir. It’s been a long time since you’ve awakened from a deep sleep. You felt refreshed.

“Rise and shine.”

Your body jumped; you didn’t realize someone else was in the room.

There he is, already in his best outfit. He dresses like he wants to go hunting. In contrast, you look like a mess. There’s nothing underneath the blanket since they didn’t provide you with any spare clothes.

You clenched your blanket when he walked towards you. His right knee rests on the bed while you move backward, but he moves faster. You flinched without realizing it.

As a woman, you know he has a beautiful body at first glance. Even his perfume smells nice. Too bad he’s a lunatic.

While you were lost in thoughts, he swept you with the blanket into his arms, cradled you to his chest, and carried you out of bed.

“Ah! What are you…?!”

Lloyd smirked; he found it amusing to see you caught off guard. “Didn’t you ask for breakfast?”

He carried you to the dining room and put you near his chair. In a few minutes, people appear, their hands carrying a food tray. They put down the food, and there it is.

You could smell good coffee in a glass, not instant coffee like you always made, and egg benedict. The food looks beautiful. You’ve always wanted to have an aesthetic breakfast.

You touch the coffee cup, enjoying the warmth in your hand. Lloyd thought you were scared. “There’s no poison in it.”

“I know.” You bring the cup to your lips” I remembered your vows.” You want to giggle, but you hide it by sipping the coffee.

Lloyd burst into laughter. It turned out you were awake. You keep surprising him. He felt like he had achieved something when he saw you enjoying breakfast.

Suddenly one of the servants knocked on the door. "Sir, they're here."

"Great, let them in."

After he gives permission, you see a group walking into the room. Each of them has a different style.

You have so many questions; Lloyd said, "You are my honor guest. And you deserve the best treatment. I got the best hair stylist, and fashion expert to treat you."

Lloyd smiled generously. "This is my first gift to you."

"After you're done, there will be another surprise waiting for you." He said before leaving.

After the makeover is done, you feel like you are being reborn. It’s been a long time since you got pampered like this. You got to admit he did a great job.

Before you go down the stairs, you see the silhouette you’ve wished to see.

“Jimmy.” You ran down to hug him.

“You're okay. I'm so glad.” Jimmy sighed, relieved; then he talked in his serious voice, "I know we're desperate but not this desperate to make a deal with him."

The moment he woke up, he punched one of the soldiers. No wonder why the car chasing is too much. It was Hansen Security who got hired. He heard about the company. They are famous as gruesome and heartless mercenaries. They will use every method to finish their job.

He was confused, and even though the soldier got hit, he wasn't mad. It turns out you made a deal with their boss. The money you offered was insane. But to you, money is not the issue.

"I care for you like my own kid. I don’t want you to get hurt."

You want to cry when he says that. You've known him since your grandfather was still alive. He's a man of loyalty, and you're grateful for that.

"This is why I made a deal with him. I don't want to lose you. Even though we're not related by blood. But to me you're family.”

Jimmy sighed again because you were right. There's nothing else you can do.

“Ehem, pardon me for interrupt. But boss wants to see you both.”

The soldier guides both of you to the room. He opened it with a passcode. When the door opened, you were awed by how many screens were inside and computers.

“Sir, the honored guest is here.”

Lloyd was looking at the screen when he turned around and became quiet when he saw you. The stylist he hired did a great job. You look different... in a good way.

He cleared his throat. “I want to show you something.”

You saw the screen behind him.

“Before we start planning to made your relative suffer, there’s another thing you should know.”

A picture of a news article and a photo of a wrecked car is shown.

“Car accident that happened 19 years ago."

Your body flinched when you saw the pictures. It's a taboo topic. Nobody around you will try to open the Pandora box.

But this man… just opens the source of your trauma.

Jimmy was ready to destroy the hardware if you asked him to. Because this is your nightmare.

On the other hand, Lloyd discovers new facial expressions from you. He likes looking at you as being weak. Lloyd wants to punish you a little bit. He still holds a grudge when you humiliated him last night.

"I found the missing driver.”

“They made it look like an accident. But I found the driver and the person who hired him."

"Who?!!" You've been looking for the answer but always found a dead end.

"The eldest child from your 3rd aunt's family."

Your cousin? That most spoiled person you've ever known?

You remembered another cousin making fun of him, saying he needed a nanny to wipe his ass until he was ten. He couldn't even pass every test unless his parents bribed the schools.

You heard he worked as a notary, but he was stupid. The land he handled for a mega project doesn't have a permit. While the investors had put their money. For sure, they sued him.

He came to your grandfather, begging and crying for help.

He was the last person you could ever think of.

"Your aunt and her husband get rid of all the traces."

Lloyd's words hit you like blows to the chest, and each of them made you lose breath. You always want to know the truth, but the pain is too much. You struggle to stand on your own feet.

"Yeah…, there's …no way…. he can work ….alone."

Lloyd noticed you start panting, your eyes not focusing anymore on the screen.

"What about…my other… family? Do they… know?"

"All of them are working together. "

"Urgh." The pain in your chest became unbearable. So their condolences at your parents' funeral are an act of pity? And your grandfather?

That's when you realized.

Oh, God.

Your grandfather knew the TRUTH. That's why he chose you as the successor to forgive his children.

Your vision becomes blurry, your legs wobble, and it feels like the floor is moving.

Lloyd moved fast when he noticed you couldn't stand on your feet. He caught you before you fell.

Your hand clenched his shirt to make him bend down. Your face and his were so close that you could feel his breath.

You saw his expression, he was not worried, but you could feel he was amused seeing your reaction. This bastard does this on purpose cause yesterday you embarrassed him.

There’s no way you would cry in front of this psycho.

"Forgot… what I said….last night. I want them…gone."

Lloyd smirked. His hand removed yours that was holding his shirt. He touched your knuckles and kissed them gently. "As you wish my dear wife."

A/N: What do you guys think about this chapter? If you have any ideas for part 3, please tell me. It will be helpful.

Don't be shy if you want to be tagged for part 3. 😄💕

This chapter is from Lloyd Hansen's Series - 3 Billion Divorce.

And check out my other stories from Masterlist.

Check out Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Extra Story

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voxofthevoid · 3 months

Text

Shibuya Swap Wednesday #1. Let me start by putting on my clown makeup 🤡

My plan was a few chapters of fun, filthy porn, with the dimension travel adding a particular kind of spice. One chapter each for Canon!Satoru/Alt!Yuuji, Alt!Satoru/Canon!Yuuji, Alt!Satoru/Alt/Yuuji, and Canon!Satoru/Canon!Yuuji.

I'm 6.5k in, and not only has there not been a single dick in sight, but I've also somehow outlined a scene where Nanami, Shouko, Megumi, and Nobara meet alt!Yuuji. I haven't reached that scene either.

This is going to be more than four chapters. Titled this (this is also part of the story) how the story changes, and well, the story sure is changing on me.

But I'm having fun! Click through to find around 1.6k of SFW Yuuji porn, ft. all my favorite JJK characters—Yuuji, Gojou, and Kenjaku.

“Good night, Gojou Satoru. Let us meet again in the—”

The parasite in Suguru’s body falls abruptly quiet, familiar eyes widening in an expression that should be familiar, is familiar, except Satoru’s mind keeps rejecting it, desperate to divorce everything about the creature in front of him from the long-gone reality of his best friend.

It’s distracting.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice the other person until there are hands on his shoulders and legs pressed against his back, somehow evading the uncomfortably warm, fleshy grip of the cursed object restraining him to bracket him in human warmth.

“What are you doing to my cute little student, Mum?” says a semi-familiar, impossible voice. “And why are you wearing Suguru-kun?”

The parasite’s face is frozen in an expression that’s half shock, half rapture.

“Oh?” they say, little of their evident shock showing in their voice. “What is this?”

“Why is the wrong question, I guess,” the newcomer says, and it’s there again, a pervasive sense of wrongness at the sound of that familiar–unfamiliar voice. “How? When, maybe.”

The parasite’s grin widens, exposing a revolting amount of teeth. It’s an expression of pure delight, utterly deranged.

Satoru’s self-aware enough to know he shouldn’t judge, but that’s never stopped him.

“Not quite,” the parasite tells the newcomer. “When isn’t enough either. Gojou Satoru is your student, you said? That doesn’t sound right to me.”

“That so?” the newcomer says mildly, their voice still making the insides of Satoru’s skull ache. One of the hands on Satoru’s shoulder slides along the slope of it, gently skimming up the side of his neck to fist tightly in his hair. His head is yanked back, the world briefly a blur. “He has grown a bit. What have you gotten yourself into now, Satoru?”

Even upside down, the newcomer’s face is distinctive, unmistakable, even as it makes Satoru’s mind writhe with the same eerie dissonance of his voice. Pink hair, warm eyes—familiar. Scarred flesh, four eyes—unfamiliar.

“Huh,” Satoru says intelligently.

The Six Eyes are just eyes now, the blockade on Satoru’s cursed energy stripping them of their extraordinary perception, but even with this disconcertingly pared-down vision, Satoru knows what he’s looking at—who he’s looking at.

Familiar lips with an unfamiliar scar on one corner curl into a kind smile. “You still get into the worst situations, don’t you? Some things just don’t change.”

That’s unfair. Satoru hasn’t been in situations in years. He is the situation.

But all that is stuck in his throat, every second he spends looking at this person cementing the reality of him in all of Satoru’s remaining senses.

“Yuuji,” he breathes.

It is and it isn’t. This is Yuuji’s face and Yuuji’s voice and Yuuji’s smile, but the man looking down at Satoru has unfamiliar scars and four active eyes on a face as old as his own, maybe older.

Man, not boy.

Yuuji, not his Yuuji.

“Me,” Yuuji agrees calmly. He’s still smiling, and it reaches his eyes too—all four of them, all that warm brown. “Don’t look so worried, Satoru. I’m here. Everything will be alright.”

No one’s said that to Satoru in a long time. No one’s needed to.

He’s not enjoying the role reversal.

The way this drastically different Yuuji is touching him doesn’t help. The hand fisted in Satoru’s hair is still there, pulling at his scalp as it keeps his head tilted back. An experimental attempt to straighten his head yields nothing. If Yuuji notices the resistance, he doesn’t show it, continuing to hold Satoru by the hair and peer down at him with that eerily serene smile.

And his other hand has crept from Satoru’s shoulder to his face, cupping the side of it. The fingers are curled under his chin, digging delicately into the underside of his jaw. The thumb is moving, butterfly-soft strokes along Satoru’s cheekbone. There’s an unconscious ease to the motions that makes Satoru’s skin grow hot and electric under them.

It’s not a reassuring touch. It’s possessive.

It’s certainly not the way his Yuuji has ever touched him.

This one looks and acts like he’s never known anything else.

“I hate to interrupt this…moment,” the parasite says, not a hint of apology in their dry voice—Suguru’s voice, even his tone, and it strikes Satoru that their desecration of his friend’s corpse, while revolting, doesn’t make his head hurt the way this older, darker Yuuji does. “But would you terribly mind telling me precisely how you got here, Itadori Yuuji? You’re making a bit of a mess, you see.”

There’s a low thud from the side, and another voice calls out, “Getou?”

Yuuji’s eyes shift to the left, all four narrowed. “Oh. It’s still alive here.”

The patchwork curse steps into Satoru’s limited line of vision—normal enough, human enough, he’s sure, but his eyes have been more since he was born.

It says, “Hey, what’s this? Itadori—”

It dies.

One moment, it’s there, tall and manic. The next, there’s just blood splatter on the floor, unusually red for a curse.

“Now I’ve made a mess,” Yuuji says. “In my view, it’s a cleanup, but I’m pretty sure you won’t agree, Mum.”

Mum.

Yuuji called them that earlier too. Satoru didn’t not notice, but he was understandably preoccupied with cute little student and Suguru-kun and the fucking dissonant voice.

“Why are you calling them that?” Satoru asks, and the angle of his throat doesn’t allow for easy speaking, his voice coming out strained, but Yuuji makes no move to release his grip on Satoru’s hair, and another attempt to wrench free of that grasp only earns him a tighter, differently angled grip and a frown that looks more confused than anything.

“Because—”

“Years of planning,” the parasite cuts in, and their voice is quiet, even soft, but Satoru recognizes very well the way Suguru’s voice would get when he was furious. “Centuries. Do you know what you’ve done?”

Two of Yuuji’s eyes flicker up; the others stay on Satoru.

And Satoru’s eyes are immeasurably weaker in this state, but he’s dead certain he’s not imagining the flash of red in the eyes Yuuji’s trained on the parasite.

“You used to say a wrench in the plans was an opportunity,” Yuuji says, and his smile is finally gone, but the considering expression on his face is just as alien. “You can’t have changed that much. What year is it anyway?”

“Twenty-eighteen,” Satoru answers, an automatic response. It’s not even the grip on his hair that’s keeping him staring at Yuuji now; he can’t look away.

“Thank you, Satoru,” Yuuji says warmly. His voice is far less warm when he adds, “You’ve lived too long, Mum.”

“What a cruel thing to hear from one’s son.”

That’s what snaps Satoru out of it.

He wrenches his head to the side, a hell of a lot more violent than the half-hearted attempts earlier, and Yuuji’s fingers do tighten at first, sending sharp pain shuddering through Satoru’s scalp, but then he lets go, even the hand on Satoru’s face falling away. Satoru still struggles to look away, strangely mesmerized by how Yuuji’s familiar face has been shaped into alien lines by the passage of time, but he manages, glaring at Yuuji and then at the parasite.

“Either get this over with or explain yourself. I’m not in the mood for games.”

It takes the parasite a long moment to pry their eyes away from Yuuji to look at Satoru, but Satoru’s briefly disgusted by how well he understands that reluctance.

“I have no explanations for you, Gojou Satoru,” they tell him. “Why don’t you ask your student—except he’s no longer that, is he?”

“Oh.” It comes from behind Satoru. He doesn’t look up. “Is that what I am here? I never thought you’d be a teacher, Satoru.”

“I hear he’s not very good at it,” the parasite provides helpfully. The earlier anger is entirely gone from their demeanor, both their voice and expression sporting the same faux-friendliness with which they were talking to Satoru before Yuuji showed up, but Satoru’s spent a lifetime living in the details, and he doesn’t miss how the whites of their eyes show a little too much, the edges shot with thin red veins. There’s a fervid edge to the way they look at Yuuji—a fascination that borders on hunger.

It flares again, that perverse understanding.

“I’m sure he’s trying,” Yuuji says. He pats Satoru, a light touch at the top of his head like he’s a puppy. It stuns him silent. “You always work hard when it matters, don’t you, Satoru?”

“Of course I do,” Satoru says without thinking.

Yuuji fucking ruffles his hair. “I’m not sure I’d like to be your student though.”

“Hey!”

Yuuji laughs.

And that—

Satoru knows that laugh. It’s Yuuji’s laugh—loud and full-bodied and real.

It’s no revelation. Satoru has seen and accepted a myriad of miracles and horrors over the course of his life. And there have been no explanations yet, no answers, but this surreal conversation has revealed enough.

This isn’t his Yuuji, but it is Yuuji, from a world where Satoru’s the student. And it’s not jujutsu theory that flies through his head, but pure science fiction—the multiverse, mirrored souls in worlds that splinter further and further apart.

The hunger in the parasite’s eyes says they also know.

Satoru hates how they look at Yuuji.

“What did you do to him?” they ask suddenly, in the resounding silence following Yuuji’s laughter. “I can’t sense him at all, but that was his technique you used.”

The hand in Satoru’s hair flexes, nails digging into his scalp. For a moment, they feel unnaturally sharp.

“I ate him,” Yuuji murmurs, barely loud enough to be audible. “Everything he was now belongs to me.”

#goyuu #jjk snippets #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #wip wednesday #my fic #fic: how the story changes #divider credit: saradika-graphics

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bettyfrommars · 6 months

Text

Everlong

part 1: hello, I've waited here for you

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

18+Only, smut, older!eddie, older!steve, unprotected anal sex, first time experience, oral m/m, anal play, rimming, fingering, no Vecna, deep feelings, mention of porn and of an orgy, creampie, but it's also very fluffy, Eddie has had a crush on his best friend for a long time. wc: 5.9k

It's the mid-late 90's in Hawkins, Eddie and Steve are both in their 30's, and have recently moved back after several life upsets. Eddie has his own trailer across town, and that is where he offers to let Steve stay for a week, and old feelings resurface.

author's note: There will be 2 parts to this. I fully intended to work on something Halloween themed, but then the inspiration for this happened. Just goes to show how my mind doesn't like to be told what to do.

"If everything could ever be this real forever If anything could ever be this good again The only thing I'll ever ask of you You've got to promise not to stop when I say when..."

-- Everlong, Foo Fighters

Steve’s week-long stay with Eddie was half over, and Eddie felt that reality sink his heart as he opened the door to his trailer.

“Honey, I’m home,” he announced with a spring in his step.

He lived in a trailer park across town now, it was double wide, and felt like a luxury after all of those years he spent crowding in with Wayne. He missed the old man though and went over to Forest Hills every couple of days to visit.

He never thought he’d be back in Hawkins a decade after high school, but he’d dropped everything to move to Indianapolis for a girl he was seeing, and then got his heart shattered a year later.

Coming back to his hometown felt a bit like failure, but it also felt safe. He still had good friends there, and he didn’t want to be alone anymore. Working as a welder at the local fabrication shop was not his dream job, but it paid the bills, and he was comfortable. He even got to play a show with his old band every now and then.

He put the Chinese take out on the island between the kitchen and the living room and called Steve’s name again. But then he caught sight of the piece of paper on the coffee table:

“Went for a run. BRB.”

The note made Eddie grin and feel all goofy, like somehow that small courtesy was such a huge act of love. He hadn’t been treated very well by his partners over the years, and that revelation stung him in moments like that.

Steve had also done the dishes, and the living room was spotless and organized. The ashtray on the coffee table had been dumped out and cleaned, all of the Guitar World magazines stacked neatly. When he opened the fridge to grab a beer, he found that they were all lined up in a row. Eddie kept telling him he didn’t have to do any of that, but Steve said that if he didn’t stay busy, he’d go crazy, and Eddie respected it.

Steve Harrington and Eddie had remained best friends, even through the years and the distance and the failed relationships. It just so happened that Steve was at the tail end of a very messy divorce, and needed a place to crash now that he was back from Chicago. His ex-wife had managed to take him for every penny he had, so Eddie was quick to offer his place after he joked about having to sleep in his car (it wasn’t a joke).

Eddie played the message blinking on his machine to find that it was from Robin. She’d also moved back to Hawkins recently, but she worked 50 hours a week, had two roommates, and was dating a woman from another town, so they didn’t get to see each other as much as they’d like. The three of them had a bowling date set for that coming weekend, and it gave Eddie the warm fuzzies to think about them all being back together again.

Eddie was in the shower with his dick in his hand, stroking it, when Steve burst in. “Hey man,” the intruder grabbed something from the medicine cabinet, and then braced his hands on

the sink before splashing some water on his face. “God damn, I am out of shape. That was rough.” Steve coughed a few times and then wiped his face on the nearby towel.

He couldn’t see Eddie through the dark blue curtain, but had he heard him? There was a possibility that Eddie had been talking to himself, thinking about Steve, and grunting a little as he got himself hard.

“Food smells good,” Steve added as he walked back out into the hall, but left the door wide open. “I’m starving.”

Nah, he hadn’t heard anything.

“I got those weird noodles you like,” Eddie shouted over the sound of the shower. “And sweet and sour chicken.” Steve didn’t have to tell Eddie what he wanted from the restaurant down the street; Eddie always paid attention to those things.

“Hey, leave me some hot water,” Steve was in the doorway again. “Or should I just get in there with you? Save some resources?”

“Not unless you want to soap my balls, Harrington,” and then Eddie threw his fist against the curtain. “Get out, and shut the fucking door, you creep.”

—-------

After dinner and a beer on the porch, the boys retired to their respective positions on the couch while Eddie rolled a joint. The movie Ghostbusters was on TV, but it was interrupted by a string of commercials, and Steve tucked his foot under him on the opposite end of the couch while he watched Eddie lick the paper.

“Okay if I have a drag?” Steve asked, resting his cheek on his knuckles.

Eddie snapped a look at him and raised his eyebrows. “Oh, hell yes. You think you can handle it?” The metalhead sat back, rolling the piece between his fingers, and then he wet one end and grabbed his lighter.

“I can handle whatever you can handle, Munson.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Harrington,” Eddie smirked and took a stiff inhale before passing it to his friend.

Steve’s ex-wife had insisted on a very straight-edge lifestyle, and he hadn’t had a whiff of weed in almost 3 years, so he took a cautious pull.

And then he coughed, and banged his chest, and spittle flew from his wet lips.

“Damn, alright,” Eddie hummed. “I take it back, you are a badass.”

“Shit,” Steve could feel the drug seeping into his bloodstream and his senses. “Feels good. Feels kinda…tingly.”

“Ahh if only to have your tolerance again,” Eddie mused, taking another long drag. The show came back on, and the Ghostbusters were checking out the slime and stacks of books in the library.

They watched a few minutes of the movie while Eddie continued to smoke. He offered it to Steve again, but he passed.

“Hey, do you remember that one time we watched a porno together?” Steve just blurted it out from nowhere, completely unprompted.

Still, Eddie knew exactly which porn he was talking about, and the exact night that it happened.

“I think so,” Eddie tapped his ash out. “Maybe. Were we at my old place?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, keeping his eyes on the screen. “It was the summer you graduated, and Wayne was at work and you were like ‘hey Steve, wanna watch some vampire ass fucking?”

Eddie scoffed. “Shut up, that is not what I said.”

“Well,” Steve was clearly exaggerating, chuckling to himself. “That’s what they were doing.”

The movie was called, “Bloodsucking Orgy” and it was a bisexual vampire porn. But the actors were wearing fake, plastic teeth, and the cheap makeup dripped off of their faces as they fucked, but it was some of the hottest shit Eddie had ever seen at the time.

What Steve didn’t tell him was that he had to pull over to jerk off in his car that night, not only thinking about the raw breeding on film, but the way Eddie had palmed himself over his jeans, clearly aroused. That was the first night, all those years ago, when Steve had first questioned his sexuality.

“I had that vhs with me for a long time,” Eddie held in a tight breath and then released a large plume of smoke. “It was under my bed in a box for years, but I think my ex took it.”

“Trevor?” Steve asked, thinking of the last boyfriend that Eddie had introduced to him that he didn’t like. Come to think of it, he hadn’t approved of any guy or girl Eddie had dated in a long while; In Steve’s mind, no one was good enough for his best friend.

“Nah,” Eddie lowered his chin, shyly. “I only dated him for like, a week. It was barely a handjob. I’m talking about Jake, the one with the mohawk.”

“The guy who juggled bowling pins at the fair?” Steve rolled his eyes. “I swear, you know how to pick them, Munson.”

Eddie squinted across the couch at his friend as another commercial came on. Maybe the weed was a little stronger that night but, was Steve…jealous?

Steve stole a long glance at Eddie when he got up to use the bathroom, taking in the curve of his muscles under the thin white Hanes of his t-shirt and the arc of his resting cock under his sweats.

They watched a bit more of the movie, speaking the lines to the parts they knew by heart.

“I’m going to miss this when you go,” Eddie muttered.

Steve’s apartment would be ready by Monday, and Eddie was dreading the lonely nights when Steve wasn’t there on the couch with him.

“I’ll be just down the road, man,” Steve assured, taking a sip of his beer. “I thought you’d be glad to get me out of your hair, so you could get back to your bachelor pad life.”

Eddie figured Steve was just confused, so he decided to jog his memory. “I haven’t so much as gone on a date with anyone in almost a year. This is hardly a rockin’ bachelor pad.”

For some reason, this gave Steve a sense of relief.

Ghostbusters ended and Eddie told Steve to wait right where he was, as if he’d go anywhere, since the couch was also his bed.

When Eddie sauntered back from the dark hallway, he was carrying two black, clamshell vhs covers. They were blank on the outside, with no words on the spine, and Steve knew exactly what they were, even from far away.

“Let me guess,” he raised his eyebrow. “Bloodsucking Orgy Part 2?”

Eddie chuckled. “Close! No, but they are just as bad.”

Steve adjusted himself in a way that made Eddie look over his shoulder as he put the tape in the vcr. “You okay with this? I figured…for old time’s sake?”

“Sure, yeah, why not?” Steve ran his fingers through his hair a few times and adjusted the collar of his tee because suddenly he felt very hot.

To say that Eddie was testing Steve would be wrong. Eddie had no idea that the events in Bloodsucking Orgy had been a bit of a sexual awakening for his friend.

The actions in the movie would turn Eddie on, sure, but he could control himself for a few minutes if it meant being able to get a laugh at the way Steve’s face twisted up at the ridiculousness of it all.

The credits came on to let you know that this was a “Two Dicks, One Hole Production” and the boys clapped.

There was about 3 minutes of what you’d call “plot” where a bunch of zombies stormed inside this woman’s house while she was having a tupperware party, and then they were suddenly all compelled to have sex.

“Look out, Scorsese,” Steve bubbled a laugh into the palm of his hand.

Eddie clucked his tongue. “No one appreciates good cinema these days.”

One zombie had its head between a woman’s legs on the table while one of her friends squatted down on her face and rode her tongue.

Some of the husbands came by to rescue their wives, but then they ended up getting dicked down as well. It was all purely entertaining at first, but all of a sudden, Steve felt his cock twitch. He palmed himself over his boxers, and looked over to find that Eddie was doing the same thing.

Eddie glanced over and caught Steve staring at him while he touched himself and suddenly, he wasn’t at all interested in the movie anymore.

“Why does it--” Steve started, swallowing hard. "Why does it always look like it feels so good?"

“What?” Eddie rested his head on the back of the couch. “Being attacked by a flesh-eating zombie?”

“No,” Steve nibbled at his lip. “When they put it…in their ass…like that. The dudes I mean.”

Eddie couldn’t even hear the sound from the tv anymore, his ears were ringing. “Because it does feel good, sometimes, when the right cock is in your ass.”

Steve’s breath hitched at the tone of Eddie’s voice. “You like the feel of it, don’t you?”

Eddie couldn't help himself; he cupped his balls under the blanket. “Yeah, um, I do.”

“I’ve wondered about it,” Steve admitted in a whisper, sliding a hand down slowly to palm himself over his jeans. He was getting hard and needed the friction. “I've wondered what it would feel like. I think I might like it.”

“You do?” Eddie’s voice was low.

Was this really happening? Was Steve just shooting the shit? Or was he trying to throw clues down? If so, how should he handle it? He’d masturbated to this scenario so many times in his life but had no idea how he would make his move in real time.

Steve hadn't planned this. He'd had thoughts about Eddie before, sure, but he never imagined he'd do anything about it while he was staying at his place. How embarrassing would it be if his friend rejected him? He had to play it cool so he could make it out like he was kidding if that happened.

With a surge of adrenaline, Steve scooted closer, and his friend met him in the middle of the couch.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Steve’s eyes searched the other pair of chocolate orbs, and they were so close now, Eddie’s pulse was skyrocketing. “I don’t want this to make anything weird between us.”

“I’m fine with it if you are,” Eddie mumbled. There was a voice in his head screaming at him not to miss his chance. He pinched the front of Steve’s shirt. “We could experiment, if you want? What are best friends for?”

Eddie knew there was a platonic best friend line in the sand that was about to be crossed, and it could never be uncrossed, but the way Steve was looking at him with those puppy dog eyes made him not care one single goddamn bit.

He’d do anything for Steve. Even if it meant he was just another “experimental experience” for a straight guy.

Steve leaned in for a kiss, and as much as he wanted it, Eddie pulled his head back.

“Say it,” Eddie muttered.

Steve squeezed himself through his boxers and frowned, confused. “Say what?”

Eddie moved in close again, brushing Steve’s lips with his. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

Steve choked on the words at first, and then he told Eddie what he needed to hear.

Their mouths met in a frenzy of clumsy tongues and cries, and then they made their way to the bedroom, stripping clothes off as they went.

It wasn’t long before Eddie was naked next to Steve on the bed, pushing a lubed finger inside him one knuckle at a time. “Is that okay?” He kissed the corner of Steve’s mouth. His friend’s eyes were closed, but Eddie’s were wide open—he didn’t want to miss a thing.

“Yes—fuck,” Steve squirmed, but his hips were moving down, needing Eddie deeper. He gripped Eddie’s back with one hand, and the other came up to fist his own length where it throbbed.

Eddie moved his head down, his hair dragging along his companion's chest. “Let me,” he mumbled. Steve held it at the base so that the metalhead could take the swollen, leaking tip into his mouth. Now he was twirling his tongue around the head and fucking his finger inside of his best friend. He savored the taste of the salty tang, making lewd noises as he sucked and swallowed.

Eddie’s mouth was magic, and Steve was hiccupping erotic sighs. “Tell me again, why did we wait this long?” He chuckled, and Eddie smiled around the gift in his mouth, both of them caught in mutual disbelief and bliss.

“You feel that?” Eddie came up for air long enough to ask, pupils blown, rubbing deep onto Steve’s prostate with purpose.

“Yeah, I feel it,” Steve shuddered. He bent his knees up and placed his feet on the mattress so that he could arch his pelvis up to give better access. “I think...I think I need more,” he breathed.

Eddie chanced a look up at his friend: his head was back, throat exposed, and–oh shit— he loved seeing what he was doing to him. The way that he was the one giving Steve Harrington this much pleasure, to be the one to make him unravel.

The second finger went in, stretching him, and Steve’s muscle squeezed around Eddie’s digits so tight, it made his cock ache to take their place. The phalange in question was tucked against Steve’s hip, aching, and he rutted it there a few times, leaving a snail trail of juice on his partner’s skin.

“Move this leg,” Eddie advised, and Steve licked his lips, watching every move, hoping to god that he did not stop fucking him. He was switching positions now, getting in between Steve’s thighs.

Steve used the slick from Eddie’s saliva to work the tip of his cock a few times as his eyes roamed the wash of tattoos over his friend’s sinewy muscles, and the guitar pick necklace that swayed against his chest.

“Does this feel okay?” Eddie buried the second finger in and scissored them to stretch out Steve’s hole, feeling the resistance throb in his own balls.

Steve winced with a hiss, and Eddie’s hand stilled, but then Steve’s eyes snapped open. “It feels so fucking good, don’t stop.”

Eddie was quick to lower his head to take over the tending of Steve’s huge member, making his friend moan long and hard.

When he looked down at the top of Eddie’s head, and the way his arm moved in and out between his legs, listening to the soft, wet, sucking sounds, Steve started to have some real feelings. They were feelings he was afraid to think, let alone say out loud.

“I-I need you inside of me, Eddie,” Steve managed. “I need you to fuck me right now.”

Eddie rose up, staring into Steve’s eyes as he took his fingers out to put the head of his dripping cock against the slip of Steve’s hole, rubbing it up and down. “Are you sure?” Eddie mumbled. “I’m not going to last long.”

“Me neither,” Steve blinked a few times, liking the way Eddie bit his bottom lip and searched his face.

Eddie’s heart was about to explode in his chest. He imagined bits of his heart and cum sprayed everywhere when his strewn body parts were found the next morning.

After a few moments of working the tip through and moaning at the way his hole sucked him in, Eddie leaned forward and pressed into Steve, spreading him open, letting him give a silent scream into his mouth. Eddie braced his partner’s hips, trembling at the sensation as he clenched around him.

Once he sank all the way in, Eddie intertwined his fingers with Steve’s above his head and began to move.

“The way you’re gripping me—holy shit,” Eddie murmured against his mouth. “Does that feel okay?”

“It feels…so fucking good,” Steve hushed. “Don’t stop.”

Steve’s bent legs were up now, and Eddie was thrusting against him, deep and hard, unable to hold back the emotions that drove his movements. Steve’s body bent so that his stomach wrinkled as Eddie found a mouth-watering pace, his guitar pick swinging in the air.

Foreheads pressed together, Eddie said, “wrap your legs around me,” and that’s when it happened; that’s when Steve could feel the coil snap in his stomach as Eddie drove into him with purpose.

Eddie grabbed a handful of Steve’s hair and pulled tight, yanking his head to the side, making him whimper.

“Cum inside me, Eddie—” Steve cried.

Eddie gave a strangled gasp at his words, because he was close, but it didn’t take long to slide one hand between them to find Steve’s leaking tip to help him along.

“I’m gonna cum in your tight little asshole,” breathless, Eddie was pounding him now, and neither one of them cared if the wet slapping sounds could be heard next door.

It was all Eddie could do not to declare his love then; to tell Steve that it had always been him, and it would be him forever after. “I’m so in love with you,” he wanted to say, and the thought alone made his orgasm rise.

The way Eddie made him feel so full would have been enough, but then his friend’s strong, calloused hand was yanking at his cock and Steve began to convulse under him. “Oh fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum. Eddie, I’m cumming!”

First of all, did Steve just call him baby?

But then there was no time to consider it because there were warm ropes of his release shooting between them, and Steve’s muscle gripped Eddie’s length over and over, milking him.

The way Steve cried out made Eddie’s movements erratic as he emptied himself, scooting closer, and bending his friend more in half to get deeper, to keep pumping with each aching grunt.

“Shit, you feel amazing,” Eddie cursed as everything got slippery and he could feel his seed leaking out between them.

Once they both came down from their highs, Eddie pulled himself out of Steve and kissed his knee before shimmying off the bed.

“Damn,” Steve looked down at himself, at the spray of jizz that began to pool in his belly button and noticed the sensation of Eddie’s release dripping down his ass. “I’m a fucking mess.”

“Hold on, I got it,” Eddie returned from the bathroom with a washcloth, brushing hair out of his face, and Steve watched him climb onto the bed to nestle between his thighs again. His cock was still half-hard, bobbing in the air as if it were already preparing for another round.

Eddie had the wet rag ready, but then the cum glistening on Steve’s stomach gave him other ideas.

“Are you giving me all that sweet aftercare now?” Steve scoffed.

“Well, yeah,” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows before bending down to lap at Steve’s bellybutton with his tongue. “You’re my guest.”

The feeling of his friend’s tongue dragging along his sensitive flesh was about to make Steve erect again, and he writhed at the sensation, eventually scooting further away, up against the headboard. Eddie watched him go, not sure what he’d done wrong, and passed him the washcloth.

Steve was having a hard time looking at his best friend now. Maybe because it had been the best orgasm of his life? Maybe because the past hour had made him question everything he thought he knew about himself?

He didn’t know what to do with the towel when he was done, so he handed it to Eddie, and he tossed it to the ground with a flop.

Eddie was about to move up next to Steve to kiss him, or at least sit next to him, but instead Steve got up off the bed and bent down to put his boxers on.

“So, does this mean—” Steve stammered, keeping his back to Eddie. “Does this mean that I—that I’m a bottom?”

Eddie was about to chuckle as he stretched long on the mattress and put his head in his hand, but then he realized Steve was asking a serious question.

“Did you enjoy it?” Eddie asked, cautiously.

“Um, yeah,” Steve bent down to pick up his shirt. “Obviously I did.”

That response elicited a quiver of a smile from Eddie, putting parentheses on either side of his mouth.

Eddie exhaled a long breath and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “It means…whatever you want it to mean. I’m not one to really care for labels.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve nod, taking in the information. He went to sit at the edge of the bed, fully clothed now, and Eddie ran a hand down his chest, thinking of his next words.

“We could always try it…the other way,” he said it so nonchalantly, and it made Steve turn his head, curiosity piqued.

“The other way?”

“You know,” now it was Eddie averting his eyes. “You could fuck next time, if you want. If you want to try it, I mean. See if you like it.”

“Next time, huh?” Steve ran a hand up and down his face. “I don’t know, man, this is —kinda blowing my mind right now.”

“I get it,” Eddie could feel a familiar heartache rising in his throat. “We could just forget this ever happened, if you want.”

There was a heavy silence then, thick and weighty with the fear of the unknown.

“No, I don’t want that,” Steve whispered.

Eddie lifted his head up. “You don’t?” His voice cracked, and then he cleared his throat and sat up to brace his elbows behind him.

Steve stood and put his hands on his hips before turning to his friend again. He raked his fingers through his hair. “I want to keep doing this,” he muttered. “But I don’t know what that means.”

“Hey,” Eddie scooted himself down so that he was sitting close to where Steve was standing, legs off the bed, and looked up at him. “We’re the only ones allowed to define this…whatever is happening between us. No one else.”

And the next thing you knew, Steve surprised himself for the second time that night, by going over to stand in front of Eddie. He brushed a few strands of his outdated bangs off of his forehead and Eddie closed his eyes to bask in the attention.

But his eyes opened when he felt Steve lower his head and grab onto Eddie’s shoulders. His mouth was so close now, and their noses slotted together. “I think I need to kiss you again,” he hushed.

Eddie’s hands went to the hips of Steve’s shorts, making fists in the material; he could feel himself getting hard again already.

“You better fucking do it, then, Harrington,” Eddie mumbled.

Once their lips met, tongues were quick to follow, and then they were crashing into the kiss and Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck. He had so many questions, and so many concerns about what this would look like to the outside world, to his friends and estranged family. But, in that moment, nothing mattered more than getting as close to this person he loved as he possibly could.

He wanted to be inside of him.

Eddie dropped to his knees and took Steve’s boxers with him, making Steve curse once he was back inside Eddie’s warm mouth.

Eddie pulled back to spit on the head, connecting a string of saliva to his mouth when he looked up to stare into his companions' eyes.

“You know where I want to put that,” Steve told the man on his knees.

Eddie’s moan was full of yearning. “I want you to fill me up,” and then he licked down the shaft and spit again until it was soaked. Eddie sucked his finger and then snaked it back to push the tip into Steve’s clenching muscle while he gave kitten licks to the freshly juiced pre-cum.

Steve jumped. “Fuck, baby—you’ll make me cum like that,” he barked a laugh.

Eddie’s smile was huge—-holy shit, he was so in love—-but then he stood to full height and grabbed Steve by the throat to kiss him. “We’ve got all night.”

Steve found his partner's rock-hard length and began to roll back the foreskin with a firm grip. He had no idea what he was doing but decided to go with whatever felt right. “Bend over,” Steve told him, taking a fist full of his hair. “Get on the bed.”

Steve’s tone made Eddie clench, and his balls were preparing for duty again.

Steve stepped out of his boxers and took his shirt off, keeping his attention on Eddie’s ass, and the way it was on full display for him now.

“The lube is in the—” Eddie started, but Steve silenced him with a “shush”.

“You’re a big boy, Harrington,” Eddie continued. “I don’t want to get ripped open toni—-”

But then big hands were spreading his cheeks apart and an eager tongue was dancing around his asshole.

Eddie pushed his hips back and the tongue dove inside. “Does that feel good?” Steve asked in between licks.

“Fuck yes,” Eddie breathed.

With that new burst of encouragement, Steve slid his thumb in, making the metalhead throw his head back.

Steve considered the logistics of it all for a moment, and then: “Can you get on your side?”

He moved into position without question. Steve didn’t have the nerve to say it, but he wanted to see Eddie; he wanted to be able to look at his face when he came. When they were both ready, Eddie rubbed the lube on his friend’s generous length, and then Steve squirted a bit on that pink, puckered spot, and Eddie yelped at the cold sensation.

More low chuckles, more tender laughter.

Eddie watched over his shoulder at the way Steve was concentrating as he lined the tip up. His best friend was so fucking beautiful, and he hoped to god it wasn’t a dream. Steve straddled Eddie’s bottom leg, while his top bent to the side, twisting at his hip.

Steve stammered a few curse words when he sank in an inch, halting. “Oh shit, I had no idea how tight—holy fuck Munson.”

“Fuck, please don’t stop,” Eddie mumbled into the pillow.

Steve groaned long and hard with each thrust, pushing himself in, taking his time, and then pulling out a bit until his hips were almost flush with Eddie’s ass.

“You like it when I stretch you out, don’t you?”

Eddie’s jaw went slack, and he reached down to touch himself, rutting into the mattress.

Steve buried himself inside Eddie, spreading his cheeks apart to watch. “Tell me I’m the only one who fills you up like this.”

“You’re the only one,” Eddie was whimpering now, trembling with lust and love. “I need you to start moving right now, Harrington!”

Steve was snapping his hips then, pounding Eddie just the way he wanted. The sounds escaping both of them were egging each other on, and Steve held Eddie’s leg up to get a better angle.

“It’s never felt this good,” Steve blurted. “Look at me.”

Eddie turned his head to meet his partner’s hooded gaze, sweaty hair sticking to his cheek. What if he said, “I love you”? What then? Because it was right there on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m so close, Eddie,” Steve’s movements stuttered a bit. “I need to see you.”

It was only a few more seconds of that intense eye contact before Steve was losing every last bit of himself inside his friend, slapping their skin even harder together as warm wetness filled the space. Steve’s toes curled on the mattress, and he threw his head back, holding onto Eddie's leg so that he didn’t fall over.

Being inside Eddie, to share something like that with him, felt so right and so perfect, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with emotions.

He flipped his partner over so that he was on his back, neglected cock straining against his tattooed stomach, and Steve bent over to put it into his mouth.

“Steve—!” Eddie was already about to blow his load before those soft lips were on him, but now his balls were tightening up close to his body. “I’m so close, I’m gonna—oh fuck!”

Steve nodded, humming on his friend’s swollen length as the salty spill poured over his tongue and he drank it down with eager swallows. Eddie writhed, shaking as he came.

They showered together again after that, and Steve found out about Eddie’s insatiable appetite when they jerked each other off one more time before they found sleep. They were all a tangle of limbs and legs, hot breath against the skin of each other’s throats.

The next two days brought much of the same. They had dinner together when Eddie got home from work and held hands in front of the tv. Until hand holding turned to touching and it was time for Steve to experiment being inside Eddie from a different angle. They both lost count of the number of times they came inside of each other. Well, Steve lost count. For Eddie, each one was precious and something he cherished.

On the third day, while the Saturday morning cartoons were on, Eddie’s head was in Steve’s lap while he played with his hair and rubbed his scalp. Eddie’s eyes were rolling back in his head, and he suddenly understood why cats purr. It all felt so natural, hidden away there in Eddie’s cozy trailer with the curtains drawn, like the rest of the world didn’t even exist.

But then there came the sound of footsteps bounding up to the porch, and someone tried the door handle before offering a few quick knocks.

“Hey, what’s going on in there?” The woman’s voice exclaimed. “Open up, this is the police.”

Steve’s eyes bulged and he practically pushed Eddie to the ground, trying to cover himself with the blanket. He was wearing his boxer shorts, but it made him feel very exposed.

Eddie’s hair was a mess when he sat up, and he gave Steve a curious frown. “What’s wrong with you? It’s just Robin.”

“I know,” Steve took a breath. “It just startled me, that’s all.”

Eddie threw a pillow in Steve’s face and shouted, “coming!”

“No, no, wait!” Steve lurched up and grabbed his friend's arm, pulling him back down to the couch.

Eddie gave him a few confused shakes of his head. “Are you losing it man? You knew she had the day off and might come over.”

“It’s not that,” Steve was whispering. “I want to see her I just—did you tell her…does she know…about us?”

Eddie’s face sobered. “When would I have a chance to tell her? I’ve spent every free second with you.”

“Okay good,” Steve’s shoulders sank, showing that he was clearly relieved. “Let’s keep it between us, alright? I don’t want anyone to know.”

“Anyone…ever?” Eddie was searching his companion’s eyes, hoping to find that same glimmer from the past couple days there, but it was gone. He understood that coming out could be complicated and difficult, and he didn’t think Steve would be shouting it from the hills, but surely Robin could know? They were the three amigos, the best of friends. If anyone would embrace him for exactly who he was and who he wanted to have sex with, it would be her.

Maybe he just needed more time, and that was fine, Eddie had plenty of it.

Robin knocked again, more forceful this time. “What the hell? I’m growing mold out here.”

Eddie remained still, passing his tongue over his teeth, and thought about what Steve was asking of him.

“I’m going to put some clothes on,” Steve got to his feet and jogged out of sight, to the bedroom, leaving Eddie to sit there, feeling the weight of being a secret, yet again.

“Hey!” Steve hissed from the hallway where he struggled to pull his jeans on while Eddie walked to the door. “Could you light a candle or something? It smells like sex in here.”

Yeah, sure, he’d get right on that.

Anything for you, King Steve.

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Hi! Thank you for reading! Always love hearing from you. Look out for part 2 🧡

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