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srgntjamesbuckybarnes · 11 months

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The List (3)

Summary: When a hit list spreads around New York, Bucky’s ex-wife is the only one with any information.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Not Beta’d. Thank you for all the continuous interest expressed in this mini-series. Your comments influence my writing so I’m just as excited as all of you to see how this series ends. Tumblr only lets me tag 50 accounts at a time. If you are not listed blow, you will be tagged in the comments. If you would like to join the taglist for this series or would like to be removed let me know!

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 3

Tony had been right; every news station had been reporting on the gala for weeks. When they weren’t discussing the night of the gala, they opted to report on Bucky. With her eyes and ears glued to the television and her phone, the days blurred together for Y/N. There was no word from Bucky. She was sure he would use his first call to contact her, but he didn’t. The only update she received was from the reporters who didn’t know Bucky the way she did. They didn’t know the way he would stare at her or bush his thumb over her lips before planting a gentle kiss on her lips. They didn’t know about the sweet nothings he would whisper in her ear as he held her at night. They didn’t know he protected Steve years before Steve worked for him or that Bucky took in Peter to give him a community after the death of his guardian, Aunt May. Instead, the media painted him as a monster, choosing to focus on his involvement with the mob. Loki, however, was never mentioned. He was quick to cover his tracks like a snake shedding its skin.

The number of people sent to assassinate Y/N and Bucky at the gala told her everything she needed to know. Her ex-fiancé knew that she knew it was him. With Bucky’s fate all over the news and Y/N not being one of the bodies recovered at the gala, Loki knew they were still alive. He called her several times over the past three weeks, but she never answered. He wasn’t the one that was supposed to call her. It was supposed to be Bucky. It was always supposed to be Bucky.

Twisting in the bedsheets Y/N ran her hand along the space beside her. The smooth silk that was usually welcomed felt wrong beneath her hand. She longed to reach out and touch Bucky like she had many times before. The soft glow of the tv cast the bedroom in a blue hue. The last time she felt this grief-stricken was when she had been going through her divorce from Bucky. Once again, the man was alive but just out of reach, this time, psychically. Yet, she was sprawled out on his bed like a widow refusing to leave her husband’s grave. He was alive but gone again and she was mourning. The only shade of blue she wanted was Bucky’s eyes staring back at her.

A muffled voice echoed down the hall. Most of Bucky’s men had frequented his house lately. Steve had moved everyone in during Bucky’s absence. Y/N didn’t know how Bucky would feel about that. He had always been a private person, but Steve had assured Y/N that it is what Bucky would do. After all, Bucky had told Y/N to find Steve. He was his right-hand man and Bucky had entrusted Steve to take care of business while he was in prison. That included taking care of Y/N and the rest of Bucky’s men all awaiting their names to become active on the hit list. The voice grew louder, and Y/N knew it was Steve. He was the only one who lingered by Bucky’s bedroom.

“Not good. She breaks down every time he calls.”

Was he talking about her? Y/N pushed herself up, wrapping the sheet around her nude chest. She could hear the dismissal of Steve’s end of the conversation loud and clear followed by a knock. Tightening her grip on the sheet, Y/N forced her focus onto the muted television, pretending to be reading the captions as if she hadn’t been eavesdropping.

“Come in,” she called out, her voice hoarse.

Steve trudged into the room, just as exhausted as he had every other day, he checked in on her. It was a stark contrast to the way Bucky always checked in on her. Bucky was resilient, never letting his work consume him wholly. Steve on the other hand, always gave everything he did 110%. Taking over Bucky’s position was no exception.

“You shouldn’t be watching all of this stuff,” Steve grunted, snatching up the remote and changing the channel.

Y/N didn’t have the energy to fight him. She was desperate for information on Bucky. She had shot him the last time she saw him, and all the news cared about was that a mob leader was captured at the site of the crime. Steve tossed the remote on the bed beside Y/N. She stared up at him, his eyes the wrong shade of blue.

“Steve, was that Bucky on the phone?” Y/N questioned; her voice laced with misery. Steve remained expressionless, not giving her any hints as to who was on the other end of the phone. She didn’t blame him for not saying anything. It was part of his job to keep information confidential. If someone told Steve a secret, he would guard it with his life. She just hoped he would keep her in the loop since she was a part of whatever this was now. Y/N’s lip trembled the longer Steve remained silent.

“Has Loki called again?” Steve crossed his arms.

He had been asking her about Loki every day since the gala. At first, she wanted to help so she cooperated, answering his questions but then they became repetitive. He was trying to give her something to do to feel useful. Steve didn’t need information from her. It was a distraction from one man in her life with another. She was spiraling like the loose thread of a sweater; with each question, she unraveled until she was bare.

No longer willing to entertain Steve’s questions, Y/N dropped her shoulders letting just how exhausted she truly was show. “Why hasn’t he called me?”

Steve ran a hand through his darkening hair. His once golden locks had begun to brown at the roots. With his busy schedule, he didn’t have time to shave his beard or cut his lengthening hair. It reminded her of when she first met Bucky. His dark hair was long, and his beard was slightly overgrown. Over time, he cut his hair for a cleaner, more respected look. He no longer needed his intimidating appearance to get ahead, his name alone was enough to scare his enemies. Y/N supposed it was Loki’s long hair and charming personality that had won her over. He reminded her of Bucky when they had first met. It was her longing to reconnect with Bucky that drove her into Loki’s arms. It also was the reason both of their names were on a hit list, and Bucky was sitting in a prison cell.

“Come on, get dressed.” Steve turned his back walking toward the door.

“Where are we going?” Y/N clutched the sheet tighter, scrambling after him.

The corner of his lips lifted in a half smile. “A little birdy told me you could use some practice.”

“You brought me to a warehouse?” Y/N frowned. She squinted, a hand coming up to shield her eyes from the sun. The swish of cars zipping across the bridge above them pierced her ears. The livelihood above a strikingly different atmosphere beneath the bridge. The water sloshed against the pebbles, seeping into her shoes. Her face twisted into a grimace as water expelled from her socks with each step.

Steve chuckled, untangling a heavy metal chain from the door handles. The chain landed in the pebbles with a heavy thud. “After you,” Steve held the door open ushering her inside.

Her eyes scrunched up as Steve flipped a switch, the light blinding her momentarily. She could feel a slight breeze as Steve moved around her, the door slamming shut behind her seconds later.

“And that, right there is exactly why we’re here.”

Y/N frowned, peeling her eyes open. The blonde’s back was turned to her as he fumbled with something on the table in front of him. Peeking around his shoulder a series of firearms were laid across the table.

“What?”

Steve sighed, turning his whole body to face her. His large cold left hand seized her right. His right shoved a gun into her hand before clasping her left over the gun as well. Y/N stood stock-still, dumbfounded by the gun in her hand. The last time she held a gun she killed a man. She also shot Bucky. “I-I don’t-”

Steve silenced her as his long legs carried him to the other side of the room to set up a paper shooting target. Clipping the paper along a wire Steve began, “You closed your eyes the last time you pulled the trigger.”

Y/N paled at the memory. She didn’t want to shoot anybody; she didn’t even want the gun in the first place.

Steve stalked up to her with a pair of earmuffs in hand. “That is why we’re here.” He slapped the earmuffs over her head, his hands securing them over her ears. He then repeated the process himself.

A million questions scrambled around Y/N’s brain but the only one she was able to voice was, “How?” Steve said nothing, just nudging her into position across from the target. Remembering the earmuffs, Y/N repeated her question louder this time.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes cast downward. “Bucky.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, flinging her hands in the air in disbelief. “You talked to him?!”

Steve ducked, his hands covering his head. A growl escaped him as he stood up, “Watch where you’re pointing that thing.”

Y/N waved the bulletless gun in his face, “It’s empty.”

He knew that. He had been the one to hand her the gun. He unloaded it. A frown crossed Steve’s face, “Rule number one, always treat a gun as if it’s loaded. Your negligence is the reason we’re here. You could’ve killed Bucky when you pulled that trigger.”

“But I didn’t,” Y/N pressed. “He wanted me to shoot him.”

Steve ignored the edge in her voice, picking up a loaded gun he fired three rounds in the exact spot Y/N had shot Bucky. His accuracy was so precise there was only one hole in the paper; the other two bullets followed the first one. Heaving Steve glared down at Y/N, “Bucky told me to take you here. When you can fire that gun without closing your eyes, I’ll take you to see him. Until then, you better start taking this seriously. Keeping your eyes open could mean the difference between life and death next time. You got lucky last time but I can assure you, luck runs out eventually. It always does.”

As promised, Steve had dropped her off to visit Bucky after a thorough explanation of what would happen. She had been searched leaving her feeling violated but that was the least of her worries when Bucky rounded the corner donned in an orange jumpsuit. Even in a prison jumpsuit, he managed to remain attractive. The orange flattered his chocolate locks that appeared to have been buzzed on the sides, his beard fuller. If it wasn’t for his bent left arm preventing the handcuffs from pulling his right arm out of the sling, she would have thought he was thriving in prison.

As Bucky approached Y/N abruptly stood to greet him. Silence permitted the space, separated by a piece of plexiglass as a guard removed his handcuffs. Tears pricked her eyes at the sight. She murdered a man. She should be behind bars with him.

Bucky’s steel blue eyes held Y/N’s gaze. It was intense. For weeks Y/N had only met with the man in her dreams. Which wasn’t many. Sleepless nights swallowed up any time she would have had with Bucky. Now that she was standing a foot away from him, unable to touch him she didn’t know what was worse.

The guard stepped away, his lingering hand shoving Bucky into the chair. Bucky hissed at the contact but other than that, he didn’t react. His focus remained solely on Y/N standing before him. They only had an hour and he intended to use every second of it.

Y/N’s eyes were wild. She wanted nothing more than to yell at the guard’s rough handling, but Bucky wasn’t causing a scene, so she bit her tongue. She wouldn’t make this any worse for him. Her eyes snapped back to Bucky as she finally sat across from him. Her eyes raked his body for any other injuries, but his jumpsuit made it impossible.

After her third scan, she caught Bucky’s lips moving. The silver cord already stretched across his chest; the phone rested in his left hand. “Pick up the phone, princess,” he mouthed, causing her cheeks to puff as she smiled. Bucky’s eyes crinkled in delight at the sight of her red-manicured nails wrapped around the glossy black phone.

After weeks of being in the dark, Y/N couldn’t help but ask Bucky the questions Steve refused to answer, “Are you okay? Did you tell them-”

“Y/N,” Bucky’s gruff voice interrupted. “Anything you say here can be recorded and used in court.” It was his polite way of telling her to shut up. It wasn’t her fault; he had kept this part of his business away from her. It was all new to her and the court would use it against him. They would use her against him. Noticing the dejected look on her face, Bucky's face softened. “Look, all I can tell you is that a lawyer who represents some big names has kindly taken my case. Don’t worry about me baby, he’s one of the best.”

Reading between the lines, Y/N had gathered that Stark had offered his lawyer. Tony usually got his way, and he didn’t settle for less, so a sense of relief flooded Y/N. Bucky leaned forward, his left elbow on the table.

“Good. I um- I brought you a suit for the trail. The guards took it. Said they would have it sent to you on the day of the trial.”

Bucky hummed, “What color is it?” He didn’t really care about the color of the suit. He would have worn anything she brought. It was the simplicity in their conversation he craved. A moment where he wasn’t giving orders or looking over his shoulder.

A dreamy look crossed her face, “Blue to bring out your eyes.” That and Steve had said blue was associated with innocence and honesty in the courtroom.

With a dramatic eye roll, Bucky joked, “It’s not a fashion show, Y/N, but tell me," he cleared his throat. “How was training with Steve today? Is he taking care of you?”

A storm cloud hovered above Y/N as she suddenly remembered their betrayal. “He was mean. You called Steve instead of me?”

“I had some affairs to get in order. I'm responsible for you. Steve kept me updated. I knew you were safe. If I would have called you, you would have distracted me.”

“Distracted you?” Y/N asked in disbelief.

Bucky shrugged his good shoulder, “It’s kind of lonely in here. I would’ve used all my time thinking with my other head.”

A fire raged behind Y/N’s eyes, her knuckles turning white against the phone. Is that all I am to you, Buck? A distraction? So, what if you knew that I was safe. What about me?! All of my information about you came from the news which is hardly fact.”

The brunette’s jaw clenched, “Of course not, Y/N.” Resting the phone on his shoulder, he ran his good hand down his face. “I talk business with Steve. You get the rest of me. Besides, you were the one who asked me to protect you, not the other way around.”

Y/N scoffed leaning back in her chair, legs crossed. “Yeah, and if I remember correctly, I saved you. I don’t want fragments of you Bucky and I don’t won’t be kept in the dark.”

Bucky ran his tongue along the front of his teeth staring her down. They had been caught in a haze the past few weeks. Their latest interaction left a bitter taste in his mouth, a reminder of their fights leading up to their divorce. If he was stupid, he’d make the same mistake twice, but Bucky was a predator, a hunter. He knew it was time to change tactics and give in.

Mirroring Y/N, Bucky settled back in his chair. “Okay, princess. You want in on all of the secrets, you want to meet the dark side of me, I’ll let you meet ‘em.”

Y/N blinked back in surprise. He was giving in. So easily? “What’s the catch?”

Bucky grinned like the devil. Y/N once again found herself ready to make a deal with the devil, a habit she had yet to break. “No catch, baby doll. You want me and my lifestyle, you want to be treated like a big girl, the whole nine, you'll get it. No more playing house. If you wanna be a big girl, then you have to make big girl sacrifices. You want to be a queen, then you gotta marry a king. Just remember, you asked for this.”

The color drained from Y/N’s face. “Bucky, you can’t be serious.”

“I am dead serious princess.” Bucky pressed his left hand against the plexiglass staring her down from beneath his eyebrows. “Marry me.”

Next Chapter

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drefear · 10 months

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Hail to the King

Chapter 3: The Start

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is the head of the biggest mafia family in Nueva York, scaring almost all of its citizens. Except you. And that’s exactly what he needs.

TW: implied smut, public, psychical domestic abuse, angst, Miguel is a real piece of work and kinda spoiled

AN: this one’s a little bit short and intense, but the next part should be a bit juicer :)

The morning started with sunlight blaring into your eyes as you squinted at your alarm clock.

8am.

8AM?!

Jumping to your feet, you tripped onto the floor over an unpacked box and felt your knee go numb for a moment. Getting back up and grabbing your phone, you glance at your phone. 6:15 am, you breathed a breath of relief. You’d have to remember to reset the time on your bedside so that didn’t scare you again. You move to kneel by one of the boxes and pull out some of your jackets and sweaters, laying them out on your bed and looking over them. Glancing back at the designer garment bags and shoe boxes in your new closet, your mind was set. It was time to show Miguel that you were your own person, and he couldn’t control you even if he was your boss.

Applying some natural makeup and placing your hair in curls, you were done with your appearance. How could anyone look down on you now, with how put together you looked? Slipping on the white silk blouse you’d bought, you paired it with a gray pencil skirt and a delicate gold necklace. You slipped on a pair of red bottom nude shoes and flattened the front of the skirt in the mirror, putting your shoulders back to measure yourself up and overlook your appearance.

As much confidence as you felt a moment ago while getting ready, now it was time to face the music and actually go to work, which somewhat terrified you after the affairs of last night. Eyes faltering, you played with the button on your sleeve and heard a knock at your door, brows furrowing in apprehension. You paused before you grabbed your bag and opened your front door, looking up to see a man in a black jacket with chains and rips all over it, strategically placed. Dreads covering his eyes a bit, he had a few piercings and looked at you with no expression whatsoever. Your hands held your purse a little tighter from nerves as this intimidating stranger was at your door.

“I’m ‘er ta take you to work.” He said as he glanced at one of his gloves as if he was inspecting something. You nodded, reaching out to shake hands with him, but he just smirked. “Name’s Hobie, but they call me Punk.” He jutted his chin towards the elevator. “We meetin’ the big man in the lobby.” His back turned and he walked to the metal doors as you just followed, locking your home before quickening your pace to catch up with his leisurely stride.

Silence followed you both like a scent brought into a room, slowly wafting around with nowhere to go. The feeling wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t familiar and relaxed either. Almost similar to a party where you don’t know anyone, but you can still have a good time.

“So you gave him the what for?’ His british drawl interrupted your pitiful thoughts and made you look up at him.

“I guess I did.” You laughed a bit and he smirked, looking ahead again.

“Good. He could use someone remindin’ ‘em he’s still human.” The way he spoke was almost as if you being stubborn and abrasive was amusing to him, like it was a show he was watching. “Be nice havin’ someone else with no fear to give it back to ‘em.”

“We all need to be spoken to as equals. That’s at least how I feel.” You answered, checking your watch and straightening up.

“You couldn’t’a said it any betta.” He nodded as the doors opened and stepped out right away, as if he couldn’t wait to be free. My eyes met with Miguel’s as he stood in the lobby on the phone.

“Yes, I-“ his words stopped short as his eyes roamed my body, obviously checking out my clothing after his comment yesterday. His eyes found mine once more and spoke again, “I’m busy now, goodbye.” He hung up without hesitation. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

You were stunned. This again?

“Yes?”

“Are you asking or telling me?” He replied and your anger began to boil.

“I’m telling you but you’re making me think I dressed wrong.”

“You did. Do you expect any of my men to be able to focus while you’re wearing that tight skirt?” He took a step forward, attempting to intimidate you with his size. Once again, you wouldn’t give in.

“Tell them to try harder. I’m not going to change because your men can’t handle seeing a woman’s body in a tight outfit without having to touch her. Fuck that.” You raised your voice at the end and he tilted his chin up, contemplating his next thoughts.

“Fine, but you won’t leave my side today. That way, if anyone misbehaves, I’ll know about it first and I can handle it correctly.” He turned once he was done speaking and waved for you both to follow. “And when I’m not with you, I want Hobie or Jess with you. They know enough about how everything works, so they can handle these matters.”

With that, he was gone again and you looked at Hobie.

“I’m wit’ you. Don’t let ‘em touch you just cause ya hot. Stab ‘em in the jugular.” He added and strolled past you to get into the car.

“Stab- what?” You stuttered and then got in. It was going to be a strange day.

Aside from the looks, though, it went by perfectly smooth. No one even dared flirt with you and everything was perfectly professional. You expected hound dogs and catcalls, but nothing transpired and you mentally rolled your eyes at your boss. He could be so over dramatic.

Your heels clacked against the tile as you walked towards Miguel’s office, which was next door to yours, and you knocked when you saw the door closed.

“Come in.” He answered, but you heard another person in there. You opened the door and saw no one else. Strange. “Make it fast, I’m busy.” He glared up to you as he glanced to your eyes and then back to his computer screen.

“You have a guest waiting downstairs, he said he has inside information on the Octavius family-” You said, then stopped abruptly at the sound of… gagging?

Damnit, not this again…

“Miguel, let the poor girl breathe, she’d obviously had her mouth full this whole time.” You rolled your eyes and glanced at your tablet. “You’re insatiable.” You mumbled and turned, hearing him sigh and roll his chair out for a moment, then watching a girl get out from under his desk. It was a different girl from yesterday, and she wiped her mouth to get off the dried drool and whatever else it was. He leaned on his elbow and pouted a bit, glancing towards the window. “And put it away.” You added, turning your head from the two of them. He sat back and tucked himself in, “thank you, now get prepared for your guest. He’s taking a big risk, coming here with this.” You sent him a deadly look and watched the girl moved awkwardly as he yanked her hand and sat her on his lap.

“Send him in.”

You rolled your eyes and inhaled an exasperated breath. “You are the absolute worst.” Your resentment was evident on your face as he nodded towards the door. “Fine. But I’m not going to apologize for you being a tool.” You walked out of the room as the girls’ faces turned completely red.

The next few weeks went by smoothly, nothing went awry or caused issues. Everyday was basically the same. Get up, get ready, go to work…

And do your best to not be disgusted by Miguel’s insane, untamed, and sexually uncouth tendencies.

Every day, he had a few different sexual activities scheduled. Sometimes, you’d call him and be put on speaker while he slammed into the back of the red head from floor 4, and other days, he’d blatantly tell you to come to his office and discuss notes for the meeting while fingering the brunette from finance. You’d just sigh and ignore the moans and uncomfortable squishing sounds.

A few times, he’d called you about an issue after work and you’d hear pornographic sounds in the background.

You didn’t ask. You told yourself you didn’t want to know, but that was a lie. Most of the time, if you were in front of him, he kept it in his pants, so you’d never actually seen what he was working with, but the sounds of most of the women he was with seemed fake, so you assumed it wasn’t anything to write home about.

Two more weeks went by peacefully with this routine. Until one night after you’d gone to sleep…

Buzz buzz buzz… buzz buzz buzz…

Grumbling, you opened one eye to see your phone vibrating relentlessly. You finally answered, rubbing your face a bit.

“Mmm?” You could barely speak, your brain not fully awake yet.

“Why didn’t you pick up right away?” His voice was angry and you didn’t have to energy to put up with his bullshit attitude.

“Because my hours are 8am to 6pm, and house visits are not included, so watch how you’re fucking talking to me while I’m off the clock.” You hissed and turned on the lamp you’d bought for next to your bed. It was pretty, from a thrift store and you’d loved it the second you’d seen it.

“I’m still your boss.”

“Not at this second. Right now, you’re a nuisance. Now spit it out before I hang up.”

Silence.

“Ok, I’m done-”

“Fine. I need you to call for an escort for an event next week. My previous date had a fight with her husband and will not be able to make it.” He spoke slowly and you sighed.

“Did you fuck her? Is that why?” You don’t know why you even asked, since it wasn’t your business and you already knew the answer.

He was quiet again. “Miguel, you fucking ass. Do I need to hire someone else for her job too?” You questioned and he mumbled a barely audible ‘yes,’ under his breath. “So I’m genuinely curious. Do you have any self control or does your dick handle your brain waves?”

“Enough, just call the fucking escort.” He grumbled and you massaged your temples.

“So you’re telling me that this couldn’t wait until the morning?”

“I wanted it done as soon as possible, and I didn’t want anyone else to hear about it.” Ah, so he was embarrassed, you thought. Maybe he does have a conscience.

“Why not ask one of the other bimbos you use as stress relief?”

“I don’t want this to happen to one of them either.”

“Are they all married?” You huffed, erasing that mental note of his morality.

“Aside from Lyla, all of the women in the office are. It’s part of why I hired you as well. I’ve been told-”

“What?” You interrupted, scrunching your nose. “I’m not married.”

“Your background check said that you were.”

“Oh.” You whispered, “I’m… well… it’s complicated.” You looked around, “But my personal life isn’t the point, I’ll call the agency in the morning.” You tried to cut it short, but all you heard were footsteps. “Hello?”

“I’ll be at your door in two minutes.” And the phone call ended, with you staring at the screen. You hadn’t even gotten out of bed, how were you supposed to deal with this?

Two minutes later, a knock was heard as you raced to the door and threw your hair up in a bun. It didn’t help that you slept naked, so you tugged on a t-shirt and a pair of panties before throwing your robe on top. He stood there, white v-neck t-shirt and gray sweatpants. (Of fucking course he was wearing those.)

You were standing silently as he looked down with an unreadable expression. Without a word, he picked up your hands and scanned them. Then he walked in and looked around. You watched his movements begrudgingly.

“You know, this is highly unprofessional.” You cleared your throat. “And you can’t just walk into my-”

“I paid for this apartment.”

“I didn’t ask for it.” You threw back at his rude comment. He narrowed his eyes around and then back to you. “So what the hell is the point of this all?”

“I called you after she called me and told me what had happened.” Your silence prompted him to speak again, “she said she was filing for divorce from her husband because she was in love with me.” Oh. Your jaw dropped a bit as he showed no reaction. “I fired her.”

“You are heartless.”

“I’m focused.” He corrected and glanced around the living room once more. “Your record said you were married.”

“As of a few months ago, I’m divorced.” You announced, avoiding his eyes and biting the inside of your cheek. The truth was it was still fresh, and you couldn’t bring yourself to talk about it with anyone. Not even Gwen or Jess or Lyla knew, but you guessed now that wasn’t true since Lyla was the one who told Miguel that you were married.

“How come you still come up as married?”

“He won’t sign the papers…” You rubbed the back of your neck, moving to sit on your couch and having a feeling this conversation was going to be a long one. After a second, you assumed he was waiting for you to keep speaking and you complied with the silent command. “He still lives in my hometown, but he’s tried contacting me. At first, it was constant, all day every day and night. But then, it slowed down. He tried coming here to visit once, but he didn't have my new address. It’s part of why I didn’t put up a fight when you wanted me to move.”

You both sat in a tense and emotional silence, wringing your hands from anxiety.

“Why’d you leave him?” His voice was deeper, more gentle as he asked. Memories flooded behind your eyes as his question echoed in her head.

You screamed as you heard a snap, his face dangerously close to yours. “You knew he was looking at you! You wanted him!” The smell of alcohol was strong in your nose as he spit while yelling at you. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you whimpered, his grip on your limp wrist painful and you saw that your arm was beginning to swell. He wasn’t backing off, he didn’t believe you, he was so drunk.

“Eddie, please… I love you, I could never want anyone else.” You whispered and raised the other hand to hold his cheek, watching his facial expression change and soften. “I’m your girl. Only your girl, forever. We promised, we vowed… right?” Your voice was cautious, soft. His hold on your definitely broken wrist lessened and you moved slowly to cradle your limp limb. Tears fell more freely as the pain soared and you shook in the shock.

“You’re my girl… I’ll fix this.” He kissed your knuckle as you looked at him with fear. “Let’s get you to the hospital, you took a nasty fall.” He looked down at you and you understood his silent command, one you already knew too well. Years of enduring this had molded you to his creation, a being a fear and surrender.

“I don’t think that’s important to our relationship as boss and employee.” Your whole body stiffened as you remember that memory, one of your hands moving to hold the wrist that had been broken.

“It is if this person decides to come here. He already seems like he’s not complying with your divorce, what if he shows up unannounced again?” He leaned forward on his knees as he stared at you with an underlying tone in his voice as he spoke. He knew.

“His name is Eddie.” Your voice cracked saying his voice, as if it physically broke you to re-live him. “And he would hurt me.” You whispered through gritted teeth, hating admitting that you were perishable and his hands were how you learned that about yourself. Miguel’s expression softened slightly.

“You can admit that, now you have to make sure you never let anyone make you feel that way again.” He announced, and stood. “You’ll begin self defense training with me.” He rolled his shoulders and you just listened, nodding. You weren't used to being so docile anymore, especially not with your boss, but this was different. This would benefit you and help you become stronger, someone that no one could manhandle ever again.

“When do we start?”

Your work outfit

Chapter 2 Chapter 4

#miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #angst #smut #miguel o’hara angst

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ravencincaide · 7 months

Text

Coffee

Summary: You had two pregnancy cravings, neither of which were all that good for you, your weight or the baby. Chuuya was all about giving you whatever you wanted- while Dazai tried to be more rational. Key word- tried. OR you’d get whatever you wanted out of Dazai and Chuuya- you just needed to work a little for it.

Pairing Preg! Fem reader x Dazai x Chuuya

Requested by Anon –> Dazai and Chuuya during readers' pregnancy.

Warnings: Hint at intimacy and inappropriate behavior including sensual licking of fingers. Cursing, Pregnancy cravings, fluff

This-is-almost-too-sweet-for-me-but-hey-lets-hope-it-fulfills-the-request

Enjoy ~

______________________________________________________________

You swore Chuuya was psychic.

In fact you were ready to stop calling him ‘the most fearsome mafia executive and gravity manipulator’ and start calling him’ the most fearsome mafia executive, gravity manipulator and future predictor Chuuya’.

He was that good, and it annoyed you.

When he and Dazai found out you were pregnant, he had modified the affectionate term of endearment from ‘Sweetheart’ into ‘Sweets’. At the time, you thought he was being cute and loving towards you- exciting at the prospect of becoming a father. Now you were certain he was giving you a heads-up about what was to come. And you swore neither your figure, nor your teeth appreciated it. Unlike all the other normal women with just weird pregnancy cravings and combinations that seemed odd at best, you craved only two things in excessive amounts. Sweets- which you normally didn’t enjoy and coffee. Sweet and bitter. Just like the combination of Dazai, Chuuya and You.

At times inherently sweet, other times obsessively bitter.

“ Okay we have sugar, water, ice cream, half a bar of chocolate. So slug we need glutinous rice flour, red bean paste, green tea powder” Dazai called into the speaker phone as he continued to search through the kitchen cabinets in a half- desperate attempt to satisfy your current cravings. “ Strawberries and some more chocolate… and then a packet of condoms and a–”

“ Oj you horny dog that wasn't on the ingredient list” Chuuya’s voice growled over the speakerphone from the store half way across Yokohama. The only place in this god forsaken city that was not only opened, but was large enough to sell everything needed to make mochi.

Stupid tourists and goddamned golden week.

You moved over from sitting by the counter and walked over to stand next to Dazai. Placing a hand on his shoulder you stole a kiss before you helped him hold up the broken-to-be-fixed cupboard door while he searched for the pan to make said homemade mochi in. “ And don’t forget the coffee for us, love” you called over the phone.

You could practically hear the irritation in Chuuya’s voice do a 180 and turn into a smile the moment your voice echoed over the speaker. No doubt he had that love-struck adoring look on his face again, the one he now got whenever you or the unborn child wanted anything. He was ready to buy the world for you, or carve it up with the use of his entire mafia faction. Whichever got it to you quicker “ Whatever you and the baby want”

“ Heey Belladonna you know it’s not good for you and especially not for the baby” Dazai stated finding the pan and then snatching the phone back and holding it far away from you. He danced away towards the other side of the kitchen, taking out a batch of brownies that had been put in the fridge to coo, ready to be topped with the glossy chocolatey smooth layer. If you were really good, he might even add a little coffee into the mix to satisfy your addiction.

“ I’m allowed one cup a day” You argued back, arms crossed over your chest “ And we’re almost out.”

Dazai chuckled a little before pointing towards the half empty jar of coffee standing innocently on the counter. With the limit of one cup a day that would be plenty to last you a month. Rather than continue provoking you however, he cut a small piece of brownie before holding it up to you- a feeble attempt to pacify you. You managed to resist the craving all of two seconds before you flickered your eyes back to the sweet treat. Rather than take it with your hands like he intended for you to, you leaned forward and wrapped your lips around the sweet treat- and his fingers.

You watched him swallow as you used your tongue to roll the still slightly warm brownie bit over his two fingers before taking it in your mouth.

You watched the hunger in his eyes grow as you swallowed the brownie before taking more of his fingers into your mouth. You flickered your tongue over the digits, a naughty reminder of the things you could do with your tongue. Then you pulled back as if nothing happened, his now clean fingers popping out of your mouth with a quiet ‘pop’.

“ it’s good, could use some coffee though” You flashed him a flirty smile.

Dazai stared at you for a moment seemingly in a daze before he turned away from you, his hands moving in double speed as he whipped up the chocolate frosting to cover the brownie in. While the mixer was running, you watched with careful eyes as he brewed a cup of weak coffee.

The smell of roasting beans tempting you even more. And they made you feel alive all the same- like an addict about to get their fix.

Your attention was hundred percent on him; like a hawk you watched as he added a tiny amount of coffee into the batter. Then he dipped his finger into the frosting and brought it to your lips. This time you didn’t wrap your lips around his fingers, rather you stuck your tongue out and licked the sweetness of his fingers.

This earned you a groan “ You sweet sadist, my Belladonna” he muttered, eyes half lid. It was as if you were literally living up that nickname. Belladonna. A sweet, torturous poison.

The moment his fingers were clean you pulled back and carefully wiped your mouth as if you hadn’t just licked at them like a dog seconds earlier “ Could use a touch more coffee”

The process repeated itself until the entire cup that Dazai had brewed was in the frosting.

By then your cravings were less desperate. You would still not say no to coffee but you didn’t think you’d go insane without it. Dazai on the other hand looked a bit worse for wear, his back was against the kitchen counter, and one bandaged hand was on his face while the other hand, which you had been licking and kissing for god-knows how long was gripping the counter. He was desperately trying to keep in control.

Suddenly you heard the roar of a motorcycle approaching. Then moments later, you both looked over as the door opened, a slightly disheveled Chuuya entering the apartment with a ridiculous amount of bags. He set them on the counter before reaching up to put the escaped hair back into its ponytail.

“ Yaay Chuuya you’re back” You skipped away from Dazai, quick to give your returned lover a peck on the lips. He smiled into the kiss, as if the affection gave him newfound energy, ready to unpack the excessive shopping. It made you grin as you wrapped your arms around his waist, watching with eager eyes as he pulled out dozens of coffee and coffee based treats out of the bags.

It was like Christmas, birthday and new year all in one!

“ Oj why haven’t you prepared anything for making mochi you slacking mackerel?” Chuuya glared at Dazai over your shoulder, as he began to produce other, more practical things from the remainder of the bags.

“ oh it’s Chuuya” Dazai’s voice dripped with annoyance and perhaps a bit of sexual frustration as well “ If you weren’t such an idiot you’d know I need the rice flour to start making mochi, idiot”

“ Oj who are you calling an idiot- you idiot ?”

You ignored their bickering as something in one of the yet-to-be-unpacked bags caught your attention.Reaching forward you grabbed the small black box with golden letters which read ‘Kamasutra 12 packet of coffee flavored condoms’ You brought the box to your lips, showing off only a glimpse of the seductive smile as you turned to the bickering pair.

“ hmm I wonder if they actually taste like coffee” You winked before moving to head up the stairs towards the bedroom. You barely held back your laughter as you saw the bickering stop and then the two turned to each other, shaking a look. They turned back to you processing what you said before they scrambled to follow you, practically tripping over their own feet.

Mochi could wait- after all you might have found a safe way to satisfy your coffee cravings. And that was much more important than any sweets in the world..

#bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #bsd dazai #dazai x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #request #fluff?#skk fluff #bsd skk #skk x reader

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clearancecreedwatersurvival · 5 months

Text

The spectrum of sports anime runs from Near Realism to Firmly Removed From Reality.

On one end of this spectrum we have Haikyuu!! which wins over every other sports anime in terms of actually being about the sport. Every part of Haikyuu!! is either playing a match or preparing for a match and almost all of their abilities and plays are firmly rooted in reality. Is it perhaps slightly unrealistic that this one short guy can jump That High??? Maybe, but he IS a shounen battle protagonist (haikyuu follows the shounen battle format perfectly Do Not At Me about this I am Right. The battles are matches. Obviously.) and therefore Hinata being Just That Good and Kageyama being Just That Good is necessary for genre reasons.

On the opposite end of the spectrum is something like Birdie Wing, the lesbian golf mafia anime, which I have not seen yet (yet!!! It is on the docket!) but I did watch this video essay about it and I think Geoff Mother’s Basement Thew would agree with my assessment. Which is to say that it’s absolutely batshit off the wall wild and has very little in common with the actual sport of golf. Which is great for me personally, because fuck golf.

Somewhere in between these two extremes lies Sk8 the Infinity which at first seems to maybe have some solid grounding in actual skateboarding and snowboarding technique and jumps even if it is unrealistic that they manage to be mostly fine after high speed crashes with no protective gear, and then fucking Adam shows up and drags the genre towards absurdity until it culminates in a psychic skateboarding battle to the death.

In our universe entering a flow state is something that anyone who is really comfortable with an activity can do, where you are basically embodying the mindfulness principle of One Mind, perfectly aware of everything related to your task and able to act without thinking about it first, in what’s basically a moving meditative state.

In the sk8 universe entering a flow state means getting mentally sucked through a prismatic vortex into a hypnotic paralysis which can be induced by one crazed matador roleplayer pulling you into basically a vampire thrall and can only be broken with the power of love friendship.

#sk8 #sk8 the infinity #haikyuu!!#birdie wing #animanga #sports anime #caitie speaks #I am once again asking people to watch mothers basement videos #have I mentioned how he’s the only way I get anime recommendations #every good show I have watched except for maybe Given??? resulted from a mothers basement recommendation #the thing about haikyuu following battle shounen formula is from his haikyuu video which is the video that convinced me to watch haikyuu!!

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flwersgarden · 2 years

Text

♡ lovestruck. °₊

pairings : elvis presley x female reader.

summary : elvis turns into a brat whenever you're not with him.

includes : fluff, (mainly) elvis being clingy (and childish), some swearing words.

author's note : this is a little present for my 170 followers! i still can't believe i have that many people who enjoy what i write and it just makes me so happy!!! i had a bunch of requests for something with the real elvis so this is for all of those lovely anons<3

buy me a kofi!

if someone would've told you that the moment elvis presley and you started dating he would make tantrums whenever you leave his side and deny anyone else's help but yours; you would've punched them in the face for playing with your feelings.

but now you would just hug them and nod while sighing. because that's exactly what he does.

elvis considers himself as a hopeless romantic, he believes in love at first sight and in the fairytale kind of love story. it didn't help that you were almost the same.

you and elvis met when he delivered some packages to your family business, he invited you a cold coke in your lunch break and the both of you just felt a spark. the rest is history (literally).

elvis got famous and you married him a few months later, just after he arrived to germany, now being at his side whenever he needed or wanted.

and you love him with all the love you could possibly have for someone as special as he is for you — you felt like you were going to burst out crying everytime you see his beautiful face.

you thought for a long time that you were the sensible and clingy one in the relationship as you always grabbed his hand in press conferences that you were invited to, gave him a kiss before every show to keep his stage fright at bay, pampering him after every show and telling him he deserves to be taken care of at least once, caressing his hair whenever he fell asleep on your lap, cuddling him while sleeping together at hotels or in your room at Graceland, tying his tie in those rare occasions he wore suits, kissing him on the cheek before he goes to meet some fans outside your home, etcetera.

it was just your routine.

you remember telling elvis about psychical touch being your love language at the first stages of the relationship.

“ but, and i mean this, if you ever feel overwhelmed for everything, just tell me and i'll stop. ”

“ i will, mama. ”

but he never told you anything. because he loved it. even more than he liked to admit. and he confirmed it the week you went away for a family trip.

you told elvis you were going to visit your sibling as they just had a baby a few days before you had to go and he took it very well, just nodding and smiling while you told him, feeling very calm.

he was also calm when you were packing your stuff while listening to him complaining about some childish fight he and some member of the memphis mafia got in, just to fill the silence.

he was also calm while kissing you goodbye, wishing you the best, telling you to be careful and ordering you to call him at least every two days to know you were good. after agreeing at everything you kissed him again, fixing his hair before driving away. he just waved you goodbye while ignoring that weird feeling he felt.

and he was also calm the next day, eating breakfast and dinner with his dad before practicing some songs in his piano and even calling some friends of his to hang out with.

but he stopped being calm the day after that.

he woke up with the sun hitting his eyes making him gruff and turn around, watching the clock in the nightstand, widening his eyes at the hour.

“ god-dammit! ” he said with his deep morning voice, almost tripping while getting out of bed, running to the phone and immediately calling jerry, who usually told him almost everything.

“ jerry here. ” his friend's typically calm voice answered.

“ jerry, man! ”

“ ep, what the fuck, where are you? ” it sounded like jerry was walking out of a room, 'whispering' to the phone, now his voice sounded concerned.

“ i fell asleep, damn it. ” elvis just ran his hand by his hair, the way you use to do when he felt stressed. “ what are y'all doing? ”

“ well, all the musicians are waiting for you while practicing and everyone else are just cracking jokes, the colonel almost sent the whole police force there to see what made you so late. ”

elvis just sighed.

“ okay, tell 'em i'm really sorry and that i'll be there in ten. ”

“ you good? something happened? are you sick? ”

“ nah, nah, i just... i'll tell ya later. ”

“ sure. see you then. ”

“ see ya. ”

elvis hung up, hitting his forehead in the wall next to him before walking to the bathroom to get ready.

you were the one to usually wake him as you woke up earlier because of all the household duties you love to do. it was after you told him after he insisted on hiring someone for it:

“ i love taking care of you, don't be stubborn. ”

that he stopper insisting.

now he regrets letting you win because he got so used to your cute voice waking him up with little kisses in his face.

damn, he felt like he was going to cry.

️️ ️️️️️️️️️

after he arrived, everyone was around him, asking him if he was okay, if something happened, it made him want to hold his head to block out the noise.

“ nah, 'm good, don' worry, 'kay? ” he said with a tired tone in his voice.

you usually walked hand in hand with him, answering all questions for him as you knew how overwhelmed he could get at this hour and even more when he had to practice for some show.

elvis then sat in the chair inside the booth, clearing his throat. feeling a bit weird as you weren't there to give him his good luck kiss.

“ ep, you good? ”

he turned to see the pianist looking at him.

“ yeah, yeah, just a bit, uh... don't worry. ” he just shook his head, giving a thumbs up for the music to start.

he spent the whole session spacing out after ending a song, laughing quietly at some jokes and just drinking water.

he felt so weird. he didn't knew in what moment did your touch became so comforting to him at the point where he felt he was going insane without it.

when steve gave everyone a five minute break elvis just shoot himself out his seat, almost running to the phone out of the booth.

dialing your number he waited, not patiently, for you to pick up.

“ hello? ” elvis thought he was going to pass out at the sound of your voice, he really missed you.

“ baby! god, it's so good to hear your voice. but hey, i think you cursed me or something 'cause y'know i got late today because i couldn't wake up without your 'good morning', ” he even made a girly voice in an attempt to copy yours. “ then i didn't had breakfast because i tried to do that sandwich you make for me and it just. didn't. hit. the. same. ” he stomped his feet at every pause, like a toddler. “ and i almost break down crying because i didn't get your good morning kiss either, can you come home? ”

he waited for an answer, probably a 'okay, i'm actually taking a plane back home as we speak' type of answer but what he got was laughter.

laughter.

“ wha-. is my suffering funny to ya'? ” he asked with his hand in his waist; doing his dad stance.

“ oh my god! elvis aaron presley, are you telling me to go back home because you couldn't get your good morning kissie? ” you said between laughs, probably tears running down your face.

“ no! ” he defensively said, looking around before saying. “ not just that, it's the sandwich too. ”

you laughed harder.

“ stop laughing, it's not funny! at all! if you told me 'elvis, i love you and i need you to leave right now to be at my side', i'll do it! i'll take the first plane back home and- ”

his rant was cut off as steve screamed at him.

“ elvis, come on! ”

elvis sighed.

“ you have to go back? ”

“ yeah... ”

“ okay, look, call me when the session ends and we'll talk about whatever you need, okay? ”

“ okay... ” he pouted like a child.

“ okay. i love you, you baby. ”

“ 'm not a baby. ”

“ sure. ”

you hung up, making elvis sigh again.

“ elvis-! ”

“ yeah, i hear you, goddammit! ”

️️ ️️️️️️️️️

he was now in his dressing room, sitting in the chair as his makeup artist worked while listening to the colonel explaining the whole agenda to steve.

elvis was playing with his straw, occasionally smiling to his makeup artist in a way to say that it was going good.

“ colonel, with all due respect, i feel like 'suspicious minds' should be the open scene, it's just a small show, not a big event. ”

“ no, no, no! it should be polk salad annie, it's fun, it's upbeat! ” the colonel turned to elvis, pointing at his figure with his clown custom cane making elvis snicker as he remembered that time you joked about the colonel showing a picture of him to the shop worker about the type of cane he wanted and them just giving him a clown cane. “ my boy would agree with me! ”

steve just sighed. “ elvis, what do you think? ”

“ uh... ” the makeup artist took a step back, elvis standing up; putting his hands in his waist, looking at the ground. “ excuse me. ” he walked to the white phone that was on the table.

“ what are you doin- ” elvis held a finger to the colonel.

“ hiya, baby! ” elvis greeted you, showing his back to the colonel and his profile to steve. “ wanna ask you something really quick, uh, what song do you like more as an opening song: 'suspicious minds' or 'polk salad annie'? ”

steve had to turn his head to the side to hide his laughter at the sight of the colonel's shocked face.

“ suspicious minds? great! thank you and enjoy your day, doll, i love ya'. ” he kissed the phone before hanging up, looking at the colonel with a confident smile.

“ suspicious minds will be the opening song. ” he sat in the chair again, grabbing his coke and sipping it while looking at the song lyrics clearly unaware of the situation before hearing steve's loud laughter.

“ what in the damn hell just happened? ” the colonel asked while steve kept laughing.

️️ ️️️️️️️️️

he was getting ready for a press conference, fixing his hair for the millionth time.

the colonel was giving orders to the press, telling them what was appropriate to ask and what not while elvis stood behind him, next to jerry and another memphis mafia member.

“ shit. ” he muttered under his breath, trying to make his hair look good.

“ what's going on? ” jerry asked, sparing a glance to elvis.

“ my hair is looking like a damn mess. ” he complained, his hands still touching the ends of his hair.

“ lemme call the styl-. ”

“ no, he doesn't know how to do this. ” elvis quickly turned the offer down, getting more nervous as he saw how his hair continued to look like he just woke up or something.

“okay! boy, we' goin' out right now-. ”

“ no, just let me fix this. ”

come on, you dumb hair, work!

“ elvis, we don't have ti-. ”

“ wait! ” he quickly remembered what you used to do, he grabbed steve's water bottle wetting a part of his scarf in it now using that piece of cloth to tame his hair down, making it work. not as perfectly as it did when you did it but it worked.

“ 'kay, let's go. ” he shrugged his shoulders, walking to the press conference with five shocked and confused faces behind him.

️️ ️️️️️️️️️

after the show, elvis just dried his sweat with the white towel he was given by some staff giving them a quick 'thank you' as he walked to his dressing room.

in a moment of obliviousness he stopped in his tracks, leaning his cheek to the side while drying his wet hair.

everyone just stood quiet.

“ uh... elvis? ” steve asked, looking at elvis as if he was insane. “ you good? ”

he just looked at steve like he was bothering him before realizing what the fuck he was doing.

snapping out of the state of mind he was in, he stood straight, clearing his throat.

“ sorry, thought the suit was... tighter. ” he whispered the last part, walking quickly to his dressing room while everyone looked confused.

he dialed you again, now in his expensive robe, sitting in the small couch his dressing room had.

“ hi! ” your voice welcomed him again.

“ i'm going insane. ”

a few seconds of silence passed.

“ okay, what happened? ” you asked as if this was normal to you, it sounded like you were in some kind of outdoor area as the wind could be heard.

“ i just- you're going to laugh again. ”

“ i won't! ”

elvis reluctantly shook his head.

“ i don't believe you. listen, just... can you come home? i really, really miss you. baby, i'll send the private jet, hell, i'll fly it myself! ” he threw a hand to the air, hitting his elbow with something making him pout.

you softly chuckled. “ elvis, just for two days mor-. ”

he groaned.

“ no! i want you here right now! you don't get it, i have to take this suffering alone. ”

you held your laughter back, shaking your head.

“ elvis, it's just for two days, they're going to pass quick! i'll be there in a blink, you'll see. ”

he blinked.

“ liar. ”

“ elvis! ” you laughed. “ you're being a brat. ”

“ hey! 'm not. ” he sighed again, falling in the couch as if it was some kind of support. “ fine. two more days and you take your cute ass home, got it? ”

“ yes. ” you chuckled. “ i love you, sleep well. ” you sent him a kiss, making him smile.

“ i love you too, g'bye. ”

“ bye. ”

the call ended. making elvis feel lonely again.

️️ ️️️️️️️️

it was now the day you were going to come back home, elvis dressed the best he could, driving himself to the airport as he insisted in you traveling back home with his plane so he could welcome you without anyone bothering you.

he was checking himself out after arriving, fixing his hair the best he could, cleaning his glasses and trying to make his outfit look better. feeling the excitement feel his body at the realization that he was going to go back to normal, his morning kisses will be there, the pampering will be there after every show... and those delicious pj's sandwiches you do.

thank god you're already his wife because he could propose you again.

... why not propose to you again?

before he could think even further he listened to the plane landing, bouncing in his feet like an excited kid. and after some minutes, he saw your figure go down the stairs, now in the same place as he was.

he ran to you, giggling like a love-sick high schooler, his arms holding you when you were close enough.

“ elvis! ”

“ doll! ”

you both said hugging each other with all the strength you could muster.

“ i missed you. ”

“ i missed you even more, sweetheart. ”

you both didn't notice the relieved sighs of jerry behind the both of you.

breaking up the hug, you both walked to the car. hand in hand.

“ so, how was it? did you get some free time without me? ”

elvis immediately shook his head, holding your hand tighter.

“ no doll, i beg of you to not leave me alone ever again. next family reunion i'm going with you, i don' give a damn if i have something important that day. ”

you laughed, caressing his arm with your other hand as you arrived closer to the car, jerry and steve beside the both of you.

“ that's too bad cause i thought of going to my cousin's wedding next wee-. ”

“ NO! ” three male voices shut you down, jerry pleading with his hands as if he was praying, steve with his hands in his head as if you just told him the world was ending and elvis hugging your waist as if you were going to dissappear in any second.

looks like the one that'll be needing free time is going to be you.

#elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis presley imagine #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x you #elvis x you #elvis fic

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