#Life is Like a Hurricane (thread)

[pcguelife]

tag drop part four .

[xveenusx]

And Yet..

Paring(s): jj maybank x fem!reader

Summary: two people who should be together simply can't find their way. In other words, JJ can't let himself be loved and can't let her go.

Author's note: This one is brutal so prepare yourselves. Realistically, JJ would totally self sabotage any chance of happiness because he can't handle how it makes him feel so that's exactly what this is. Thank you for all the feedback on 3 seconds! If you like when it hurts, then this is for you!

Part 1: Three Seconds

-------------------

He left.

It’d been hours and none of us knew where JJ went, only that he left. While JJ storming off was a normal feat, he always came back.

Now normally, I would have been looking for him, knowing exactly where to look. I’d find him and we’d avoid everyone until he felt like he was ready. This time was different. He never looked at me the way he did today.

A look of pure betrayal.

John B had gone MIA with Sarah while Pope and Kie were handling everything we needed to look for the gold. Me? I was trying to find a way to cope with the sudden JJ sized gap in my life.

It was brutal trying to get through the entire day without collapsing. Everything felt dull. I decided going home and hiding out in my room was the only option. It spared me the looks of concern from our friends and gave me the freedom to cry.

My room felt abnormally empty and cold. My stomach rolled as JJ’s words played in a brutal loop. I crawled into my bed where I curled into myself tightly, hugging my knees to my chest to create some type of pressure.

He’ll come back. He always comes back.

I jolted awake to pounding on my window.

“-wake up. He needs you. It’s bad oh my god it’s really bad.”

Scrambling off the bed, I pushed the curtains aside to see Kie’s panicked face. “Kie, what’s going on?”

Her face filled with relief as she pulled me into her. “We need to get to the chateau now. He’s not making any sense and bought all of this stuff.”

Nausea rolled in my stomach.

“JJ-“

She cuts me off. “He needs you.”

I left the house in seconds, hopped into the Hayward truck and we took off. I nibbled on my nails, glancing at Kiara in the drivers seat. Her face was painted with worry and her leg bopped up and down displaying her nervous energy.

Kie moved one hand from the steering wheel and threaded our hands together, squeezing tightly.

Pulling up to the chateau, I see LED lights tangled up on the trees, shining lights reflecting on the yard. How was there power? The hurricane had taken everything out.

Before I could figure it out, I heard a commotion that drifted up the drive way.

“Where is she? You said Kie was getting her.”

My heart jumped to my throat. I hold onto Kiara tighter as we move toward the raised voices.

Something twisted in my chest as I took in the hot tub and lights suddenly decorating John B’s yard.

JJ is shouting at Pope now, slurring his words slightly, before taking a pull of the champagne he clutched in his hand.

“Look man, she’s here. She’s here, JJ. Calm down.” Pope announced, pointing in our direction, before placing his hands around his head and taking a deep breath.

Awareness ran through me. JJ turned his body to face me, his gaze flicked to mine.

He said nothing yet his eyes said everything. There was an openness that seemed to make him vulnerable.

“You came.”

A tug deep in my chest urged me to move closer. “You asked.”

“Okay, now that she’s here. What did you do, JJ? Where did all this come from?” Pope asked, but we all knew the answer.

“I got a jet going straight in my butt right now. Y’all should get in immediately, ya hear?” JJ laughed, the aviator sunglasses slipping down slightly. His blonde hair slick with water stuck to his forehead as he messily poured champagne into a glass. “Salud!”

Pope let out a noise of disbelief, “How much did this cost?”

“Uh, pretty much all of it.”

I moved around, taking in the inflatable floaties that filled up the yard, while biting the inside of my cheek. He spent all of the money.

“Kie, what? Can’t a man have a little luxury in life?”

I tuned out their arguing. There was a reason he acted out and bought all of this pointless shit but I couldn’t figure out what it was. He knew. He knew he needed to pay for restitution.

A blanket of dread covered my body like an old blanket as the consequences of JJ’s actions finally settled in. Another sense of dread hit when I knew I wouldn’t leave him.

“You could have paid for restitution or better yet, helped us buy supplies.” Pope said, shaking his head in clear frustration.

They weren’t seeing this for what it was. Something was wrong. Yes, he was reckless and rash but like I said before, most of the time he does those things because something happened.

“Okay Pope. Well, I didn’t do that. I got a hot tub for my friends,” JJ choked out, “I got a hot tub for my friends. Screw that, I got a hot tub for my family.”

“JJ, what the hell?” Kie whispered.

Something in her voice made me turn back around quickly and that’s when I saw it.

JJ stood at the center of the hot tub, one hand clutching the champagne bottle while the other hung loosely at his side. His gold necklace moving back and forth shining under the lights, but that’s not what caught my eye.

What caught my eye was the purple and blue bruises that littered his chest and ribs. A high pitched ringing filled my ears as my body felt like it began to float.

This. This was the reason he spent all the money.

My hand covers my mouth as I let out a choked sound.

Hearing the noise, JJ turns to me, his face entirely shattered, tears causing the crystal blue orbs to shine.

“Do you see what I did? Look what I did for you,” He cried out as he held out his arms, staring at me with such vulnerability I could feel my knees start to buckle.

Tears freely began to fall from my face as I took inventory of just how many bruises covered his body.

“No, stop being so emotional. It’s fine, everything’s fine.”

My feet moved on their own accord. Fully dressed, I threw one leg over then the other ignoring the burning from the heat of the water.

He reached for me the moment my body hit the water just as my arms circled around his neck. JJ curled his body into me, the champagne bottle forgotten, his arms circling around my waist digging into my lower back, clutching me like a life line.

My legs knocked together as the adrenaline and helplessness kicked in. I began counting in my head my breaths because I knew in this moment, I couldn’t afford to break down.

Not when he was broken beyond belief.

My fingers threaded themselves into his sun-kissed locks, brushing from the nape of his neck to the top of his head and back again. I pressed my lips onto his head, not letting my grip loosen for one second.

“I love you.” I murmured over and over again as sobs wracked his body, his head in my chest soaking my shirt with his tears. “I got you, it’s okay. I’m here, Jayj.”

I glanced up helplessly and see Pope and Kie staring at us, both of them clearly distraught.

I beckon them over with a nod in my head and instantly JJ and I are covered in warmth. Their arms wrapping around us both, whispering words of love to him.

We stayed like that until our skin got pruny, not wanting to move until he was ready.

When the time did come, I could tell by the way his grip on my waist loosened and his sobs quieted down. Brushing the hair out of his face, I brought my face close to his, “You ready to get out now?”

JJ nodded.

“Kie, can you set out some of John b’s clothes?” I asked her, moving to get out. She nodded and pope followed her inside.

JJ followed closely behind me. His fingers laced with mine, trembling slightly as the night air bit at our soaked bodies.

Shuffling into the chateau, our friends were sprawled out on the couch with Kie strumming away at the ukulele.

“I left the clothes in the spare.” Pope said, his eyes locked on JJ.

I shot him a thankful smile, “Thanks, Pope.”

Once we were in the room, I shut the door as JJ shimmed out of his shorts. Ignoring the heat in my cheeks, I grabbed the towel from the bed and began to dry him.

I could feel his intense gaze on my face the entire time. Biting back a smile, I whispered, “Can I tell you something?”

“Please.”

“I really like the hot tub.”

JJ tilted his head back and let out a surprised laugh. The sound of his familiar laugh caused a wave of warmth to crash over me, causing a zoo of butterflies to swarm my stomach.

“It is a pretty sick tub, isn’t it?” He smiled.

“It is. Very kooky of you.”

He narrowed his red rimmed eyes at me, “Take that back.”

I couldn’t have his my grin even if I tried.

“JJ the kook? I could see that.”

He sends me a cheeky smile in return. Bringing my attention back to the task at hand, I drag the towel along his shoulders before heading towards his chest. My hand stalled slightly as I saw how angry the bruises were, the hue of the purple and blue causing my stomach to churn.

My head moved carefully as I pressed my lips softly along each bruise, fluttering my eyes shut. I feel familiar rough hands tangling themselves in my hair and he lets out a sharp breath.

Opening my eyes, he tilted my head back with his fingers gripped the nape of my neck. A storm brewed in the crystal blue eyes, flicking between every emotion.

His thumb slowly drew my bottom lip down causing his eyes to darken with each passing second,” Thank you.”

Tremors wracked my body at how close we were, our breaths intertwined filtering into my bloodstream.

JJ shifted forward allowing his lips to softly brush mine. The moment my lips parted, he pressed his again almost like he was inhaling my every breath.

Pulling back, he rested his forehead on mine and repeated, “Thank you.”

“I got you. I’ll let you change-“ My words got cut off as he grabbed my arm to stop me in my tracks.

“Stay.”

And so I did.

_______________

I blinked at the alarm clock that read 3 a.m and slowly rubbed the sleepiness from my eyes. I could hear the sound of the skeeters buzzing outside the chateau and felt a strange sense of calm at the quiet.

Reaching toward the other side of the bed , my hands were met with empty cold sheets. He was gone.

I closed my eyes tightly and took in a deep breath as I willed for this nightmare to go away. We still had a lot to work through, but I thought after last night, he finally understood how fucking in deep I was. I was all in, completely and utterly in love with him. It’s always been him.

Pushing my body up, I slowly bring the sheet up to my chest covering my naked body from the cold. A sharp tinge of fear hit my chest as I noticed a presence at the end of the bed that was quickly replaced with an immense sense of relief.

JJ sat on the edge of the bed with his bare back facing me, his elbows on his knees, and head in his hands. A small smile played my lips as I shuffled over, my hands slowly trailing themselves over his shoulders and pressed my lips softly against his shoulder blade.

“Can’t sleep?”

His shoulders tensed the minute my lips touched his body. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

Confusion filled every fiber of my being as I finally took him in. I could feel the weak stitches that held my heart together suddenly begin to tear.

I opened my mouth and closed it. The backs of my eyes burned as I stared at the side of his face, the face that I spent hours admiring, that refused to even look at me.

“I thought after last night-“

JJ shook his head in disgust and let out a dry breath, roughly tugging at the messy strands on his head.

“We fucked. It’s not like that’s something we’ve never done before. It doesn’t change anything.”

Like I said before, I understand him. I know him and I know exactly what he’s doing. That doesn’t stop every part of me from feeling like I had just gotten kicked in the chest.

“JJ, please don’t do this.” I inhaled a shaky breath as I clutched the sheer tighter to my chest, almost like it was an armor against his cruel words, words that I knew came from a place of panic. Yet, it hurt just the same.

“Do what,” JJ said, getting up from the bed to face me, arms crossed tightly against his chest. “You made it clear what side you were on and it wasn’t mine.”

“Stop twisting what happened. You forget that I know you, JJ. I know you,” I stood on my shaky feet, the sheets wrapped around my body. “You think I dont know why your treating me this way. You’re dad doesn’t decide who you are.”

Desperation burned in my blood as I once again tried to grasp at straws. He was always finding excuses to run from me and each and every time, JJ took a piece of me with him.

“Shut up. I’m not doing this shit with you.”

“You have no idea how special you are do you? How easy you are to love?” It was an honest question, one that seemed to anger him if the clenching of his fists was any indication.

“Stop-“

I cut him off. “Because you are. Special, I mean.”

JJ said nothing. His gaze met mine, and the blue eyes I thought matched the ocean perfectly, showed a battle of emotions.

I took the opportunity to move closer to him, fighting the urge to curl up and cry at the look of utter confusion on his face.

Luke had successfully beat it into him that he was worthless, useless, and would never amount to anything. This, this look on his face was why I stayed.

He didn’t know. He really didn’t know the effect he had on people, on me.

My fingers trembled slightly as I reached to touch the bracelets that decorated his wrist. All of them being gifts from me.

“You’re fiercely loyal to the people you love. The family that you chose for yourself. It’s almost frustrating how you don’t see it,” I muttered, tilting my head up to search his eyes. “I mean, fuck JJ, you took the fall for Pope because you didn’t want his future to be ruined. You went to jail and now you’re on probation.”

“Please, stop.” His plead was weak at best.

My fingers danced along his jaw, my voice wavering slightly at the tightness in my chest. “You sat with my everyday during summer school so I wouldn’t be myself. No one does that, JJ. Especially not here.”

He had to know I was telling the truth.

“So please, listen to me when I tell you that loving you has been the easy thing I’ve ever done.”

Despite the immense beating my poor heart has taken, it still beats with a naive sense of hope.

Hope that sky rocketed when JJ reached forward to twirl a strand of my hair in between his fingers, almost as though he was memorizing how it felt.

“Such pretty little words.” He hummed. “How many other guys have you told that too?”

I recoiled back in shock.

“Pretty little words won’t get you anywhere. You wanna fuck, I’m down. But that’s not gonna stop me from mackin’ on other chicks.”

Then he dropped the strand of my hair, along with every hope that he could love me.

I chose to then focus on my anger that slowly began to bubble to the surface.

“Like who? Your gonna start mackin’ on Kie?” I launched the question at him, my voice raising an octave in disbelief.

“Maybe. At least she knows when to leave.”

“Stop talking to me like that,” My voice broke at the end, the burning in my eyes getting too hard to ignore. “You’re hurting me.”

All I could do was stare.

Here I stood, heart bleeding, begging a broken boy to love me back. And maybe that wasn’t fair for me to ask, maybe it was too much but a large part of me thought he felt something. Even if it was a fraction of what I felt for him because at least it was something.

Anything.

“You’re never going to let me love you, are you?” I ignored the sharp stab in my stomach as I finally said the question I already knew the answer to.

JJ’s head snapped up in shock at my question. “I never asked for you to love me.”

“You showed up to my window every night because you didn’t want to go home. You hold my hand, you kiss me, you fuck me. You come to me when you can’t fucking sleep. You sleep in my bed. You teach me to surf and take me everywhere with you. You ask for my advice and god forbid I don’t answer the phone, you have a melt down.” I was shouting at that point, my voice loud enough to wake up our friends who were sleeping in the living room but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“You need me, I’m there. You got arrested, I bail you out. You get in a fight, I clean you up. JJ, you showed up in my life and surrounded me. You’re fucking everywhere. How could you not expect me to fall in love with you when you do these things?”

The laugh I let out was one of a broken girl, one who had completely lost herself in a wave of chaos known as JJ Maybank.

The door was right there. And yet, I couldn't get my feet to move.

“Because I don’t fucking understand it, okay? Because I’ve never had the luxury of someone looking at me the way you do and it makes me physically fucking sick.” JJ took several strides until he was pressed up firmly against me, his fingers threading themselves into the nape of my neck.

“The way you look at me makes me feel like I’m suffocating, don’t you get that? And yet, I can’t fucking thinking straight when you’re not by me.” He choked out, his face was white with panic.

I could feel myself start to crumble at his words. Welcome to the club. “Yesterday, you said I wasn't enough for you.”

JJ nodded, his eyes staring straight into me with such intensity I had to swallow.

“You know why I said it. You know how I get. The way you look at me,” He swears pounding his hand against the wall,” Fuck the way you look at me. You make me feel like I can be a better person, that I have the potential to do something great.”

“Because you can-“

“No I fucking can’t. You give me this hope that I can be better and then something happens to remind me that I can’t and it crushes me. It fucking wrecks me.”

I roughly wiped the tears that blurred my vision and asked, “So what are you saying?”

The silence caused the anticipation of his answer to intensify, making breathing almost impossible.

“Sometimes, being with you is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Can you hear that? It’s the sound of my heart shattering for the last time.

“Then you have to let me go.”

He shook his head,”Thats not what I want.”

“Let me go, JJ. If not for you, then for me because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. You haven’t even been able to say it back. You completely own me, every thought I have is about you.”

“You own ME.” JJ shouted, his hands in his hair tugging it in anger. “And it completely terrifies me and then I say the first thing I can to make the fear go away just so I can get a moment of peace. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

In a way, I couldn’t really be angry with him.

No one’s every really described just how dangerous loving someone can be. How they consume every part of you until there’s nothing left. Until suddenly, you can only breathe when you’re around them. When your very mood depends on the expression of their face. The pure feeling of ecstasy that covers your body in a layer of electricity the moment you’re around them and they look at you.

“You love me,” At my words, JJ looked almost relieved, like he finally understood why he felt so many things at once,” but you can’t let yourself love me.”

And yet, despite this revelation, I still couldn’t bring myself to leave.

A tortured look passed his face as he pressed his back against the wall and slowly slid down.

“You need to let me go because I love you to the point that I cant bring myself to leave. So if you don’t want me, if you can’t be with me then do this for me. If you don’t, I’m going to keep giving you every piece of me until there’s nothing left. “

I guess you never truly understand until it happens. Until you get physically ill when they’re upset or filled with warmth when you see them tilt their head back and laugh. When you see them and suddenly the world is just a little less overwhelming, bearable even.

When every fiber of your being is tuned into one person.

Gripping the sheet tighter, I moved in between his legs and settle myself on the floor. The moment I did, JJ engulfed me in his embrace. His presence soaked through my skin leaving the intoxicated feeling in its wake.

“I can’t,” He shook his head fervently, “ I can’t do that.”

I understood him, because I couldn’t either.

“What are we going to do, Jayj?”

JJ pressed his face against my throat, “I don’t know.”

We weren’t okay, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Nothing had been solved and yet, we sat on the floor wrapped in each others embrace.

So I said the only thing I knew to be true and give him yet another piece of me, “I love you.”

“I know.”

There we were. Two souls irrevocably intertwined in a mass of love and hate that were broken beyond recognition. Neither of us being able to leave the other.

And yet, all I could focus on was his inability to say he loved me back.

_____________________

Tags for all those who requested: @trickylittlewitch @maybankslover @bcon24 @chaoticbisous @ifilwtmfc @dullsocietyy @mad-die45 @stuffyownswrld @kaylinfayezink @theywantedplayer

[kiara-ish]

Haegeum

banner by my beautiful wifey @snoozeagustd

Pairing: Agust D x fem!Reader x Min Yoongi

Rating: 18+

Genre and AU: Haegeum MV AU

Summary: Life hadn't been a piece of cake for you, a knife for a person. But never did you imagine, a street side nobody like you would have to choose your loyalty to two men, far from being sane but so close to be the morale of your insanity.

Warnings: Smut (surprise, surprise) not too explicit, angst, some gore (instances of stabbing and torturing), insinuation of sexual harrasment, unhinged Agust D, manipulative Min Yoongi, I'll add more before the main story is published.

Words: 280 for the teaser

a/n: This is obviously a manifestation for the insanity that is Haegeum. This is also in lieu of Min Yoongi's whorehouse where there is no official business and is created for simping purposes only.

m.list | main fic

"I like to call myself a businessman," he grinned at you, wavy hair falling on his eyes somehow bothering you more than him, "I don't pay salaries. You work, you get a share."

That's how you came to work for Suga, a red flagged sociopath who wanted to bend you over to know if your ass could sit tight while he fed his fish. It barely helped that you wanted him to do it himself, to grab the back of your neck and bend you over the torn arm of his couch. In short, Suga was just the right amount of unhinged and on the path of insanity for you; he met your fire torch with a fucking wildfire. 

"I can't help you if you don't listen to me," he smiled but his eyes didn't, in fact, you could hardly move your own stare from his scar, "if you give me your loyalty, I'll make sure that you'll never have to bend over to tie your shoes again."

Agust D, who could finely pick the threads of the world apart with his connections and power until his enemies were drowning in a fish farm. He could give you the world, literally and figuratively and he brazenly promised to do so to himself when you walked into his office and crossed your legs on the polished leather of his couch. His touch set you on fire so dazzling that you turned to ashes by his mere stare. He met your thunderstorm with a hurricane. 

 

You can't choose between fire and storm when both are threatening to ruin your world; only, if you could destroy them before they did you. 

[violettduchess]

chevalier and ex-lovers for the angst promt? that seems like it would be really interesting considering his route. thank you for reading this ask

A/N: With some encouragement and brainstorming (thank you @lorei-writes 💜) I finished this!

An addition to my Broken Heartstrings series

Chevalier x Reader

WC: 1.3k

The crowds that have gathered in the streets are humming like a hive full of excited bees. Some small children are pushing their way beneath elbows and through knees, trying to get to the front. Others are being hoisted up onto the shoulders of grown ups who shift their weight from foot to foot, as eager as the children to get a glimpse.

You can see them all from your spot, perched on the wide windowsill of your bedroom. Precarious as it may be, you’ve pushed open the window, leaving nothing between you and the view of the street below. It’s a joyful scene, one of breathless anticipation as the townsfolk wait for their king to ride through on this, the anniversary of his coronation. The king that you chose a year ago. The man who had challenged your spirit and won your heart.

But instead of sitting by his side, proudly looking down at all the beaming faces, you’re alone at your window, stomach in knots at the thought of seeing Chevalier Michel again, even from a distance.

Just thinking his name sends your mind down well-trodden paths of anguish and heartbreak....

What had seemed so solid, so strong, had unraveled in a single moment. You didn’t even have the chance to anticipate something was wrong. He had gone to investigate suspicious activity at the border. He had returned, white clothing running red with blood that was not his. Still, you had run to him, concern an engine that spurred you forward at lightning speed….and he had turned away, turned his shoulder towards you. And then he had told you, in a voice as chilled as winter’s edge, to leave. 

Leave, he repeated at the palace gates, his hand gesturing for you to move away.

Leave, he repeated as you stood in his bedroom, questions shooting from your mouth like wayward fireworks, bright and burning and frantic. 

Leave was all he said, his voice a blade as dangerous and final as his sword.

His betrayal of your trust was a sudden cracking of ice, a fall into freezing water that left you speechless, breathless, and utterly broken. All the possibilities for the future, all the countless daydreams. All the nights spent talking, sharing, weaving a relationship from the threads of your heartstrings snapped in a blink by silver shears, cold as the blue of his eyes when all your wild thoughts boiled down to a single question, your voice trembling like a leaf in a cruel, sudden wind: 

Why?

Leave was his only reply.

And so you fled the palace, the beautiful rose gardens, the confused and concerned questions in the eyes of his brothers. You fled the place that had become home to return to the life you had known before, except it didn’t fit as it once did. Something was missing, something that ached in the night, that chased sleep away from the spinning hurricane of your mind. A longing for someone that you shouldn’t want, someone who was willing to drive a stake into the beating heart of your love without hesitation. Or explanation.

A combined gasp and cheer rises up from the crowd as the royal caravan approaches and tugs you back to the present. The other princes ride upon their horses, smiling and waving. Well, Licht isn’t exactly smiling and something about his somber expression is so familiar, a constant in a world turned upside down, that it actually brings a smile to your lips, a sad, watery thing but a smile nonetheless. Jin and Nokto beam brightly, waving and nodding, especially to the women who meet their gazes with excited hands pressed to their hearts. Leon is every inch the prince, flawlessly dividing his attention between both sides of the street, his smile open and wide. He was always so kind.  A wave of bittersweet emotion washes through you as you remember the time he would take to explain things to you, to help you find your way, to listen,

But he is not the one your heart chose. 

And behind Leon and his black stallion rides the King on his destrier of purest snow white. The sight of him, tall and proud, one gloved hand on the reins, the other casually on the pommel of his sword freezes the breath in your lungs. Your fingers curl into your palm unbidden, nails biting deep into flesh gone numb. Beside him, Clavis is all flashy smiles and waves, golden eyes scanning the crowd to award a nod or tilt of the head to anyone he wants to feel special. His head tilts up as his gaze sweeps across the many open windows and people waving handkerchiefs, some embroidered roses, some embroidered with tigers in honor of the king’s crest.

You, still as a beam of moonlight, stand out amid the riotous cheering.

Of course Clavis notices you. In a heartbeat, your eyes lock with his and something inside you shifts as you are flooded with the memories of the many laughs, the teasing, but most of all, the way he supported you through loving his brother. He knows what a difficult path that is to walk. He has been walking it his whole life.

He offers you something no one else in the crowd gets. His face, always adept at schooling itself into whatever mask it need be, is filled with genuine emotion at the sight of you. He offers you a smile, soft and sad and real.

Somehow, even from a distance, he has still found a way to comfort you.

Your spirit is bolstered, just a little, and you manage a smile in return, raising a hand in greeting.

And then Chevalier notices his brother’s upturned face and his own head moves, his gaze rising to see what has Clavis’s attention.

There you are, up in the window, framed like a beautiful portrait, smiling, but even he can see it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, like a garden dappled in shadows. Your hand is raised, that hand he knows intimately. He knows the motion of your fingers as they delicately turn the page of a book. He knows the strength in them when you grip a horse’s reins. And he knows their softness, the tenderness with which they can touch, the feel of your fingertips as they trace the line of his jaw. The eagerness with which they press into the back of his neck when he kisses you-

Kissed you.

When he kissed you.

Because he will never know their touch again. Nor your kiss. Nor your smile. Even now, as your gaze meets his, that smile fades, your hand slowly lowers, curling against your heart like a wounded animal, seeking shelter.

And he knows he did that. He killed the warmth of you, the joy, the whispering sunshine of your love.

And he would do it again.

Because as pained as you look now, somehow he knows it would never compare to the pain of being in love with someone who could so deeply disappoint you. He learned that lesson the day he rode to the border, when he killed as mechanically as clockwork, without remorse, without regard. How easily his blade drank the blood of young and old. He saw only red, felt only the jolt of sword through flesh and turned to seek it again and again.

You claimed there was good in him, there was mercy and the capacity to love.

And for a brief moment in time, he had believed you. Until that day.

And rather than watch your love for him slowly wither as you learned you were wrong, that he was nothing more than a brutal beast, he made a clean cut. Sharp, painful but without a doubt in his mind the correct thing to do.

He could not watch the light in your eyes go out. Because he loved you.

Loves you.

Because he still loves you.

Chevalier’s pale head turns away from you and the procession continues.

Slowly, breathing against the burning ache in your chest, the broken pieces of your heart slicing into wounds that have never fully healed, you lean forward and pull the window closed. 

There is nothing left to see.

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @greatstarlightstarfish @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @ozalysss

[emotionaldamages]

when we were young- carlos sainz

summary- a memory of when reader and carlos were young and how things can change in seconds

pairings- carlos sainz x childhood bsf!reader

Y/N and Carlos were inseparable. They had been best friends since they could remember. Growing up in the same small town, their lives were intertwined like the threads of a tightly woven tapestry.

At fifteen, an age when emotions can be as wild as a hurricane, something changed between them. It started with stolen glances and secret smiles. Y/N couldn't help but notice the way Carlos' dark eyes would linger on her during their after-school hangouts at the local park.

One day, as they sat side by side on the swings, the summer breeze ruffling their hair, Carlos finally gathered the courage to speak up. His voice was barely a whisper as he asked, "Y/N, what if we were more than just friends?"

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, her palms suddenly sweaty against the cold metal chains. She turned to face Carlos, her eyes searching his for any sign of uncertainty. "What do you mean?" she replied, her voice barely audible.

Carlos took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. "I mean, what if we were something more? What if we took a chance on this feeling that's been growing between us?" His words felt like a gentle caress against Y/N's heart.

She bit her lip, contemplating the weight of his words. They had a friendship that was steady and comfortable, but the idea of something more sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She had never thought of Carlos in that way before, but now his proximity seemed charged with an undeniable allure.

Y/N's voice trembled as she finally spoke her truth. "Carlos, I've never thought about this before. But now, I can't deny that there's something here, something I can't ignore." Her eyes searched his for any signs of doubt, but all she found was unwavering determination.

Carlos smiled, a warmth spreading across his face. "Y/N, you've always been my best friend, and now, I want to be something more. I want to discover what lies beyond friendship, to explore this connection that's been growing between us."

As the setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, Y/N and Carlos shared their first tentative kiss. In that moment, everything else faded away, and the world seemed to slow down. It was a simple kiss, innocent yet filled with the promise of something extraordinary.

From that day forward, Y/N and Carlos became more than just best friends. They were now embarking on a journey of young love, navigating the uncharted waters of teenage emotions.

And so, the adventure of Y/N and Carlos continued, their hearts entwined as they set out to uncover the mysteries of love, friendship, and the resilience of the human spirit.

little did y/n know…

________

Y/N sat on the porch swing, her heart heavy with anticipation. It had been weeks since she last saw Carlos, the love of her life and her childhood best friend. The distance between them felt especially cruel now, as his racing career demanded his constant attention and presence on the track.

The sound of an engine revving in the distance made her heart skip a beat. She stood up, excitement coursing through her veins. It had to be Carlos, returning home after a long absence.

As the sleek red Ferrari rounded the corner, Y/N caught her breath. Carlos stepped out of the car, his face etched with exhaustion and tension. His once-ebullient eyes were dull and distant, and Y/N's heart sank. Something was wrong.

"Carlos!" Y/N called out, rushing towards him. "I missed you so much. Are you okay?"

Carlos glanced at her, his gaze devoid of warmth. "Y/N," he said, his voice cold and detached. "We need to talk."

Her heart skipped a beat, the weight of his words hanging in the air. This wasn't the Carlos she knew, the one who enveloped her in warmth and love.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Carlos took a deep breath, his eyes fixated on a distant point. "I need to focus on my racing career, Y/N. It's becoming increasingly difficult to balance it with our relationship."

Y/N's heart shattered into a million pieces. She had never thought Carlos would choose his career over their love.

"But Carlos," she pleaded, tears streaming down her face. "We are meant to be together. We've been through so much."

His face remained impassive, a stark contrast to the vibrant person she fell in love with. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I can't keep leading you on. It's best if we part ways."

The words hung in the air, heavy with finality. Y/N couldn't comprehend how everything they built could crumble so suddenly.

"Goodbye, Carlos," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

He nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before turning away. Without looking back, he climbed into his Ferrari, leaving Y/N standing there, heartbroken and lost.

As the car disappeared into the distance, Y/N felt a mix of sadness and acceptance wash over her. Life had dealt her a painful blow, but she knew she had to find the strength to move on.

In the years that followed, Y/N rebuilt her life, piece by piece. She discovered new passions, forged new friendships, and even found love again. But a part of her always held onto the memories of when they were young, of the laughter and shared dreams that had once defined their friendship.

Carlos, on the other hand, continued his ascent in the world of racing. His face adorned magazine covers, his name became synonymous with success. Yet, deep down, something always felt missing.

Sometimes, in the quiet moments, he would reminisce about the friendship they shared, the love they had lost. He wondered if he had made the right choice, if his career was worth sacrificing the joy and warmth Y/N brought into his life.

But the past was just that - a memory. And as time ticked on, Y/N and Carlos remained nothing more than a bittersweet chapter in each other's lives, forever etched in their hearts.

[antediluvianechoes]

X, Charles H. Bennett, 1855, from Beasts, Birds and Fishes: An Alphabet for Boys & Girls

Ichthyosaurus will not use ChatGPT or Midjourney. He does not want to see A.I.-generated images on his Tumblr feed or watch computer-narrated videos on YouTube. Ichthyosaurus will not move over to Threads. He will not invest in crypto. He does not want an NFT or an electric car popularized by the unethical son of an Apartheid-era emerald mine owner. Which reminds him, Ichthyosaurus does not want to go to Mars nor sees the utility in sending people to live there for extended periods of time. He does not want to watch that new show everyone is talking about. Ichthyosaurus is disappointed by the commodification of the internet, not to mention its ability to spread misinformation, bigotry, and hatred. He does not like the growing disparity between the haves and the haves-not. Ichthyosaurus also does not like snowless winters, unquenchable summer forest fires, and the hurricanes-of-the-century that come every other year. Ichthyosaurus sometimes hopes death comes early so he doesn't have to see a future he will not like; then his children hug him and he hopes life lasts a long time.

[ludinusdaleth]

i feel like the mere idea of bringing up orym & ludinus and their entwined threads of fate is taboo, but i cant stop thinking about it.

orym is a rare, nearly impossible kind of protector - a guard, somehow not attached to a corrupt, brutal system. he just wishes to protect his home, his leader. but ludinus, via otohan, attacks this peaceful place. he turns the ashari cautious & agrieved. he turns the society of air into the eye of a hurricane. orym is turned into a widow. his title as guard is marred; he failed. maybe zephrah is forever marked as a battleground & graveyard, now.

orym walks across tal'dorei & marquet, slowly healing beside his friends, protecting them as best he can. but then he learns who killed his family, and she kills his friends, too - and him, for a moment, giving him visions of his dead husband, reopening the wound. he is in the eye of a sandstorm, tinged red by the moon. he is a pilgrim no longer. his attempt to be a guard has once again been thwarted. maybe you cant have peace if you're a protector.

orym is at the center of the goddamn planet, the leylines aligning as he witnesses his leader fall at the hands of otohan, again at the center of his home's wound, and ludinus, again pulling the strings. a protector far stronger, more capable, than him, adorned in feathers, alight with divinity, falls worse. his friends are flung to the far sides of the world. he once again fails as a guard. maybe a guard is too small in the scale of this world's forces to impact the tide at all.

and so, orym nods to laudna as she rips bor'dor's life from him. he shears his hair ever more, adorns tougher armor. he makes a deal with a hag, desperate for any chance someone he cares for could maybe fucking make it out okay - even if his vastly increased sternness to keep them safe pushes all of them farther into fear of their own. he sneers with unfathomable anguish as he sees ludinus at the volcano and wastes every one of his action points to rip his soldiers apart. he uses ludinus's harness. he takes the willmaster's power. he keeps pushing into the bloodred storm. he could never be a guard right. so it is time to be a soldier. to truly protect must mean to run to the source of all of it and end it once and for all.

all of the bells have been forged by ludinus, a horseman of war, but orym takes it most viscerally. he does everything in his power to stop ludinus, but in a way the elf has already won - or perhaps, in his need for exandria to be "saved" (as he percieves his actions will do), he's failed, but the bells have still lost. because this new generation isnt at peace. they arent even heroes. they are soldiers. orym more than anyone else has accepted that is his life, his death, his fate. there is no goal of his that doesnt end at ludinus. ludinus, who just like him, lost everything in a war involving gods. who has felt the way the world keeps turning, unbothered by what destroyed his society. who uses that accursed harness to take power for a cause. who doesnt want to force someones mind to get what he needs, or kill, but does, because it is necessary. who has pushed himself to the point he is a means to an end more than a person, willing to rip himself apart because he doesnt matter, his goal does. who cant see anything but war on the horizon anymore.

when the two are mentioned together it causes folk to bristle. the idea orym could be in ludinus's shadow is seen as a suggestion that orym is evil as him. but, thats not what i intend. it is a terrible thing, watching someone's gaze harden after tragedy. once a long time ago, as the gods fought across exandria, ludinus saw his world destroyed. and so he enacted a plan to ensure that would never happen again. that they would suffer, and mortals would thrive. but his plan was a god's foot, trampling mortal society upon society. and so orym saw his world destroyed. and he knows killing ludinus is how to let it mend. as the two march forward, in a second calamity, i can think of nothing but the first scene of exu: calamity, when pelor & asmodeus fought as avalir fell below them. despite ludinus's raging, incredible hatred of the gods, the biggest tragedy of all is that mortals really are crafted in the gods' image: and he, & orym, are most representative of that endless cycle of war, of this war, a failure of the past generations, of ludinus, to ensure a "true" freedom of mortals. of peace.

willmaster edmunda was a terrible person, but i fear she was on the right track when she spat at orym "some would like to live in harmony [with Exandrians]. some... know the nature of violence, that others like you carry."

he would never have carried it if ludinus had not dropped it at his feet.

[ladystarksneedle]

Meaning.

A simple word quite meaningless on its own much like what others assumed she spoke of now and then. Yet ever since she began having dreams she’s struggled with the word by itself. There’s much more to it, as there always is with things, one only needs courage and curiosity to look past the obvious. She has tried to find it in places people might deem odd, eccentric even and her answers have mostly led her back to the gardens in the Keep. Nature works in mysterious ways, intangible and ever changing. People appreciate what they understand, what fits their idea of beauty and conforms to their view on life. Anything out of the ordinary is uncomfortable and must be cast aside. She’s seen it with the bugs that the ladies at court squeal and shy away from and she’s slowly seen it in herself as she’s grown. She’s an oddity in the vast sea of false courtesies and niceties. She sticks out yet her name and title shroud her from the outward cruelties inflicted upon others who don’t have her protection. It isn’t enough to prevent her from being shunned though. If something is seemingly harmless yet out of place it’s eventually left to gather dust away from the crowd, not on purpose she’d like to think, but that was the unspoken order of things.

Yet she finds it peaceful at times, the solitude she’s graced with. Initially it was occupied by a hurricane of her thoughts, her only refuge being atop Dreamfyre, soaring through the clouds with the biting chill of the winds quieting the storm within her. She’s learnt to find meaning in the small things now, up in the clouds, barefoot in the grass, running her hands along the threads she weaves day on end and in the joyful laughter and tiny footfalls within her chambers. The word is still much of a mystery to her, yet an eerie comfort as she tries to decipher the words her own mind weaves. Meaning can be found wherever one chooses to look for and she knows she’s destined to be an ever watchful explorer.

[redfurrycat]

🐓🤠Hangster Fic Recs🤠 🐓

🐓🤠Hangster Goodies to Read! 🐓🤠

[Recs List 5]

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

List of Hangster Ao3 Authors in Recs List 5:

AnadoraBlack | AncientAviators ~~~ Bottledyarn ~~~ Conny_the_destroyer | Cryinginthebronco ~~~ Fearfrost1211 | FlowersOnMyMind | Fuddlewuddle ~~~ Greenstuff ~~~ Hangmanbradshaw ~~~ Imafriendlydalek ~~~ KatofKanals ~~~ Lesbiseresin ~~~ MadeItUp | Magdarko ~~~ Ok_thanks ~~~ Teacupivy | Tearsricochets | ToukoJalorda003 | Twowritehands ~~~ Winterbitch ~~~ Youlookgood

[Recs List 1] - [Recs List 2] - [Recs List 3] - [Recs List 4] - [Recs List 5]

Off The Market by fearfrost1211 {T}

Even in his peripheral, Jake could see the woman pout. Wait, he frowned, nearly turning and asking right then, what did Roo mean off the market? He was seeing someone?

takin' my heart out (of its zone of comfort) by tearsricochets {T}

Javy, who is still holding on to Bradley like they’re best friends, shakes his head. “Sorry, boss man, I walked all over set. This Tanner dude just isn’t here.” Who the fuck is Tanner? He tries to convey this question to Javy with his eyes, but the actor is not paying a lick of attention to him. He’s looking at the man in front of them, who is instead looking at Bradley like the brunette is the sole cause of every problem in his life right now. “Then who the hell is this guy?” As of finally noticing their boss was no longer pacing in front of them, or that he was suddenly getting louder in tone, Natasha and her friend look up at the new additions of their group. Bradley pretends not to notice the blonde taking an appreciative look at him, but he’s a simple man and absolutely preening under the attention. “This is Bradley,” he gives a meek way to the man burning holes in his head. “And he’s going to fill in as my other half today.” “Excuse me?” He’s going to what? OR: the one in which Bradley is not an actor, but he is going to film a music video for the hot singer

Darkest Little Paradise by hangmanbradshaw {E}

Bradley never thought he'd be dealing with another round of hospital visits, especially not for the only family he had left. When he stumbles upon a book at his rare books store, he finds himself at a crossroads there may be no turning back from, but hey...don't blame him, love made him crazy. Or, Bradley *take my hand, wreck my plans, that's my man* Bradshaw needs to save Mav so he decides to make a deal. Enter Jake. Everything changes in ways he never could have imagined.

here is that rainbow by magdarko {M}

Five times Jake did something Bradley didn't expect and one time Bradley returned the favor.

Storm's Coming by imafriendlydalek {M}

There's a hurricane headed toward San Diego and Rooster gets sent to a nearby aircraft carrier to help move planes back on land before it sails out to sea. Too bad the storm has other plans.

Love Makes My World Go Round by KatofKanals {E}

Jake Seresin had essentially been having babies for the better part of a decade—enough of them to necessitate a car with three rows of seating. At almost 40, he was definitely done with that phase of his life. His husband, Bradley Bradshaw, however, might just disagree.

top gun missing scenes by teacupivy {E}

the whole time, under the lights

Jake "Hangman" Seresin is unraveling the mystery that is Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, one thread at a time, if it kills him. They've been fighting and fucking for years, and everything comes to a head when they're recalled to Top Gun for a special training detachment and find themselves competing to be team leader.

as he falls from his perch

Bradley Bradshaw has a knack for losing people, either watching them go or running them off. Jake Seresin seems to just keep coming back.

spend my time trying not to feel it by lesbiseresin {M}

 “There was a flier for what their upcoming events are. You know Halloween is on Thursday.” Fanboy waits for him to nod to go on. “They’re doing something every night this week. Different themes on different nights.” Bradley raises his eyebrows. “Let me get this straight. You’re trying to drag me to a costume party?” (alternatively: halloween, a gay bar, jake, and bradley. what could possibly be complicated about that?)

When Danger Comes Home (Don’t Ever let it Roost) by ToukoJalorda003 {M}

Bradley adored his job, and it had been his dream to go into law enforcement as a kid. He had everything he’d ever wanted - except for a romantic partner, but he’d never even consider dragging them into his dangerous personal life. …Until he took a smuggling case involving Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, a known member of the city’s organized crime syndicate. Maybe he’d bitten off more than he could chew, this time.

 Favorite Poison by AncientAviators

Reprieve (Can You Ever Forgive Me?) {M}

“Exactly. If you wanna—” Maverick waves his hand, shaking his head— “I dunno, go start up a ranch somewhere, then do it. If you wanna go back to school, then go back to school, start a family, don’t start a family, get married or never settle down. Follow your dreams. Figure out if you even have any other dreams. Don’t…” He pauses, voice quieting, going soft and sincere, and Bradley’s chest aches a bit. “I don’t want you to ever limit yourself just because you feel like you owe it to your dad, Bradley.” A brief moment of silence. He knows he probably shouldn't ask, he might not be able to handle the answer. “Is that why you stuck around?” “Because of my dad, or because I felt like I owed it to yours?” Maverick asks, eyes coming back up, a small, sad smile on his lips. He holds Bradley’s gaze, the fire flickering on his face, the shadows dancing and disappearing before coming back in rapid succession. Or: Post-Mission healing, Jake and Bradley have history, and Bradley's trying to figure out his life.

The Hand That Feeds {M}

He kind-of wants to be, honestly. He really wants to be. He thinks he could spend the rest of his life with Bradley, doing just this. Coming home to each other, having dinner together, falling asleep in the same bed. Maybe it’s the few sips of wine he had or he’s just losing his mind, but he can almost imagine himself giving up flying for Bradley, if it meant more time with him. They got lucky, being kept as a squadron. Jake needs to thank Iceman, Maverick, and Cyclone. He’ll have to send gift baskets.

Deferment (I Have Plans) {T}

They both glance at the front door when it opens, Iceman and Maverick’s voices carrying from the entryway. Jake sits up, balancing on his elbows. When the silver-haired man sees them on the couch, he turns away from Maverick. “Get up and get dressed, Cyclone needs us for a meeting.” He briskly heads for the bedroom, ignoring his husband, who tries to continue whatever conversation they were having before they came inside. “Tom—” Bradley turns his phone off and blinks, stretching his legs and back and biting back a groan. “It’s Sunday, though?” “That’s what I told him,” Ice calls out dryly from the hallway.

Paperback Thrills by twowritehands {T}

On a dagger team road trip from California to Texas, Jake stumbles on an embarrassing secret hidden in Phoenix's bag, and it just won't leave his head. Not until he tries it for himself, and life is never the same again.

Right now I wish you were here with me by FlowersOnMyMind {T}

He doesn't miss his husband's thick, Texan drawl or his stupid smirk. He definitely doesn't miss the Alpha's scent of campfire, leather, and the grass after it rains. He doesn't miss tripping over Jake’s cowboy boots in the entryway of their home. He doesn't miss seeing Jake's Stetson hanging on the hook by the front door. Or the way he teases Bradley, trying to get a rise out of him. He doesn't- He misses Jake so much it hurts. Or Jake is sent across the world for a mission that takes much longer than they thought. He and Bradley don't handle it well.

I can be your fantasy (football punishment) by ok_thanks {_}

“This year, the second annual season of the Dagger Squad Fantasy Football League, the loser, one Bradley Bradshaw, must face a fate worse than death.” Nat pauses for dramatic effect. “He must – drumroll, please, boys... — Successfully and wholly complete the Scholastic Aptitude Test, also known to some as the SAT.” As if that wasn't bad enough, the proctor being Javy's stupidly handsome best friend — who he keeps running into — adds to his misery. AKA: the one where Bradley's fantasy football punishment leads to an embarrassing crush of high school teacher Jake.

Let's fall in love for the night (and forget in the morning) by Conny_the_destroyer {E}

There are so many possibilities of how Jake imagined he would spend this fine summer night. What he hasn't considered is driving his car to a dive bar on the outskirts of town half an hour after midnight. Bradley gets hurt and it's Jake who finds him.

a force to be reckoned with by winterbitch {T}

They're running from monsters they don't understand, desperate for safety in the water that Maverick promised them. Only the monsters are desperate, jut as much as they are, and they step in the water too. It's not safe. Until it is, as Hangman's easy smirk and sharp blade cut through the sky. Rooster doesn't understand, but he knows he's in love. or bamf son of the poseidon hangman au with smitten rooster and maverick who knows more than he should (and some sneaky hangman and iceman dynamics)

cause I can’t help it if you look like an angel (can’t help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain so) by cryinginthebronco {M}

“What’s wrong?” Jake gives his best friend a worried look, already getting up from his seat. Out of habit, he grabs his clipboard, ready to follow Javy wherever he needs him. “Do you have a moment to talk?” Javy asks, easing the clipboard out of Jake’s hands. Not understanding what’s going on, Jake only nods and lets him take it. “Okay, one second.” Javy gives him a tight smile and walks away, followed by Jake’s disoriented look. -or it was supposed to be a "someone is a little loopy after anesthesia" fic, but it spiraled into something a little bit longer - or nurse jake au

Always by greenstuff {E}

Jake meets Bradley for the first time when they're eighteen. This is the story about how they fall in love, break up, and then spend years finding their way back to each other. A modern Persuasion, if you squint a bit.

Rulebreaker by Fuddlewuddle {E}

Jake doesn't sleep with Alphas as a rule. Bradley Bradshaw made him want to break that rule. An unscheduled, but well-timed heat, might help the Omega get that through the Alpha's thick skull of his

any man of mine by bottledyarn {T}

Bradley sighed. “It’d just be nice if he was nice once in a while, that’s all I’m saying.” “Gotta say, this is a hundred times worse than your horny era,” Nat said, and Bradley stabbed a pointer finger at her. “There was no horny era,” he said. “And—and I’m not hung up on him. He’s just—” “‘Aggravating,’” Nat said, yanking the word out of his mouth. “I’ve heard it before. And you definitely are hung up on him. Are, have been, probably always will be. Maybe that’s the real reason his name’s Hang-man. Stringing you along without even realizing he’s doing it.”

Love (Suite Love) by hangmanbradshaw {T}

Jake never thought he'd leave a pop concert with a public crush. Bradley was on vocal rest. Really, he was.

Fire in the Blood and Smoke in the Air by MadeItUp {M}

Dirty and Sweet (Get it on)

As things wind down after the mission, Rooster struggles with a need for something a little dangerous. That something absolutely should not – cannot – be Jake Seresin. But a little friendly competition and a lot of alcohol can go a long way to changing a man's mind. Hangman eyes Rooster’s empty beer, then his own. “How about that second shot?” “You tryna put me off my game?” “I don’t need you drunk to beat you, Rooster.” “What do you need me drunk for?”

feels good to know one thing

Jake doesn’t have the best relationship with his family, so when he’s summoned home for a special occasion, he calls up the one person he can trust to stick with him – after all, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw has never ever lost a wingman. But he’s about to find out that getting shot down in enemy territory to save Mav was a whole lot easier than surviving a long weekend chez Seresin. “So it’s a big family thing?” Jake says carefully. “Everyone bringing their partners?” “Well of course, Charlie’s promised to bring the kids and I’ve not even met Matty’s new girlfriend—” “So that means I can bring someone?” Silence on the line. His mom is no fool. She knows when she’s been played. “Of course, Jakey,” she says. “You’re welcome to bring anyone you like.”

Will Get Fooled Again

Personal history isn’t enough to get in the way of professional opportunity, and when Lieutenant Commanders Jake Seresin and Bradley Bradshaw are selected to develop a pioneering Strategy Development Program at TopGun, working with the best young aviators the fleet has to offer, each figures they’re up to the challenge both in the air and on the ground. After all, a little rivalry can heighten the senses and bring out the best results… Or it can bring out something else altogether. “I’m not hard to impress,” Jake says, laying the cue down on the table. “I just don’t like people kissing my ass.” “Really?” Rooster says, and there’s a marginally lower register to his voice, a flicker of something crossing his expression that has excitement sparking in Jake’s gut. Walking round to take his drink from where he’s left it, Jake faces the others, resting the ass in question on the table and taking a sip of his drink, before answering. “Hero worship’s for people who don’t know their own worth.” He flashes a winning smile at his friends. “Some of us don’t need it.”

Up in the skies by AnadoraBlack {M}

Bradley hasn't been on Tarakona in more than ten years. It's time he goes home. Besides, at 30 years old, there's next to no chance a dragon egg would hatch for him, right?

pumpkins and whiskers by youlookgood {T}

Needing a fresh start, Bradley moves from his old childhood home in San Diego to a far away small town. It's nice enough, he supposes. The residents certainly have that small-town autumn charm going for them. His new next-door neighbor's pretty nice too. What's less than nice is said neighbor's roommate, and his equally annoying orange cat.

Evil Be Gone by MadeItUp {E}

Training on the F/A-18 is everything he’s ever wanted, but Bradley’s dream becomes a nightmare when a new recruit joins the Golden Eagles. Blond hair, green eyes and a smirk so wicked he could rival the devil, Jake Seresin is everything Bradley hates – arrogant, brilliant and an unrelenting asshole. It’s almost as if he’s been sent there as Bradley’s own personal demon… All Bradley’s seen of the man so far is the back of his head – dirty blond hair cut short and sharp to the nape of his neck. At Nija’s invitation, Seresin turns to smile at the room, hand coming up in a lazy salute, his grin as sharp, as calculated, as the cut of his hair. His eyes are green, his dimples deep, and he’s far too pretty to be trusted.

you’re not fooling me (I can see) by magdarko

When MI Private Investigations gets a new case from a mysterious client, Bradley must confront old fears and new uncertainties. Throw in a creepy old house on a moonlit night, and you’ve got all the makings of a mystery.

[thatbanditqueen]

No One Walks Out Chapter 2

No One Walks Out On Big Daddy

Chapter 2: Sweet Baby

Summary: Elvis convinces Becky to come out with him and she gets to know him better. Angst and smut and fluff and smut and angst ... historical inaccuracies.... for instance, I know Larry only did hair but he does make-up in this fic for narrative agility.

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, cunnilingus, gratuitous chest nuzzling, sex, cursing, drug use and alcohol, some mild weird mind games and jealousy, a toe suck if you don't blink.

Sorry about the typos I've been agonizing over this since I finished it Friday,not totally happy with how it is but it was fun to write...

Words: 14K

Catch up on Chapter One here

There will be a chapter three, but for the love of big daddy please like, reblog, comment, share with your maiden aunt if you enjoy this fic.

This is playlist of music from 1970 - 1975 that I've been listening to get into the time period because I'm a huge dork.

Monday, June 9,th 1975, Jackson, Mississippi

Approximately 6:10 pm

About ten minutes since we begin in Chapter 1….

You glared at Elvis over folded arms, resolve hanging on by a thread, tempted to give in and go with him, but also, stuck. The heat of irrational anger and competition burned your chest. You weren’t even sure what this contest of wills was about, but you didn’t want to loose. You looked up at the ceiling, the fluorescent light flickered, and you wicked the sweat off your arms, vaguely aware you hadn’t slept, you hadn’t showered, and you hadn’t eaten much in the last 24 hours. A notion poked you at the edge of your consciousness that these factors had probably impaired your judgement, and maybe you weren’t making good decisions. This was, of course, true. All rational thought had been derailed by a night spent drinking, smoking pot and fucking Elvis Presley. Who, unlike you, hadn’t skipped sleep in order to rush home, get a kid to school and then go to work. No, Elvis had spent his day in rock star land where he could sleep as long as he wanted, eat breakfast at 3 or 4 pm and enjoy a leisurely shower. God he smelled amazing.  

You, well, you had started to smell worse and worse and worst as the day wore on.  There was no way you were going anywhere that involved getting naked with him. No. Last night had been the best night of your life, but you know how this ends, rock stars don’t date single moms who manage hardware stores.  They date beauty queens and movie stars, usually all at once. Where could this possibly go? Just be done with him, rip the band aid off now. Stand your ground. What was he going to do, throw you over his shoulder and carry you off into the night? You looked back over. Elvis was leaning  into the doorjamb, his hands resting on the front of his hips, under the slight rotund swell of his belly, fingers spread wide over the sides of his belt. Eyes closed behind tinted sunglasses, you watching his adam’s apple bob up and down as he breathed steadily and stifled rage transformed into an eerie zen demeanor.

A minute ago he had hurled a torrent of swear words your way, it had been terrifying, yet, strangely arousing. You pushed the giddy tingle at the center of your hips down, thinking what the fuck is wrong with you? The guttural  grain of Elvis’ “goddammit” had gone straight from his tongue to your clit, igniting a fire that simmered in your belly. You had never seen such intense masculine emotion. Almost all the men in your life had been tight lipped and stern, yet very passive aggressive when angry. Not Elvis. He was a walking hurricane, unpredictable, impulsive, volatile. It was exciting and terrifying. However, right now, he was completely calm, seemingly meditating and quietly whispering to himself. Someone walking in would never know he had been screaming at you and punching the door frame moments ago. He turned to look at you, opening his eyes. They were dark, piercing, almost a purplish black through the lavender sunglasses. You could feel the air leave his throat as you watched him exhale again, and moved in your direction. The hair on your back stood straight up and you squeezed your arms tighter against your chest. Elvis’ tall frame hovered above you, his gut pressing into you with each inhale, his breath filling the space between you with warmth. Elvis’ entire body oppressively overwhelmed you. The cold metal of his rings caressed your cheek and his voice was now calm and low, yet commanding.

“You don’t know me very well.” He sighed into your neck. “Tell me I cain’t do somethin’, an’ well, honey … that just 'bout guarantees I’m gonna do it….” His lips moved closer to your left ear, he leaned on one hand against the wall next to your head, the other pulled your arms slowly away from your chest. Heat sizzled at the base of your spine as you looked down, his fingers grasped your hand tenderly.

“I can tell you ain’t never been with a real man before…. A man who treated you good …” then he whispered, “took care a’ his baby…. if you know what I mean?” He waggled his eye brows, while his fingers traced along your jaw, then down over your breast to your tummy and hips. “Took care ‘a you so good, you always came when he called.”  

His lips moved closer to your left ear as he spoke, a feverish heat tingling through your lobe, a crooked smirk raised the left side of his mouth. You say nothing, but your breath hitches in your throat as he pushes even closer, his lips almost on your neck, and you shake your head, looking down. Don’t cry you tell yourself, but you exhale with a loud, stilted tremble.

“Shhh, shhhh s’ok honey,” Elvis' left hand moves from gently rubbing your hip to trail up and down your side. ”Cuz I’m gonna show you what s’like to be with a real man.” He leaned closer, kissing the nape of your neck, his soft lips searing into the spot below your ear.  “I always take care a my girl.” You gasped as the warmth from each word hit your neck as he continued.

“I see you. I’m a seer…and I see ya, Becky, I see you. Underneath all this stubborn bitch crock of shit you putting up, you’re just a scared lil' girl… scared of being hurt, scared of being happy, scared of how good it was with me last night.” He paused, breathing deeply through his nose, and you looked down, shaking you head, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up into his dark purple eyes and the promise you saw in them to over power you, to break you, to own you completely. 

“S’ok… Cuz I’m gonna fuck ya so good, the only words you’re gonna know to say when I’m done with you are ‘yes daddy.’”  Your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes remain locked on Elvis, trying to summon contempt and indifference, even as the spark in your core blooms up your chest. Elvis’ fingers work their way under your shirt, gently soothing you across your belly, and up over your bra before resting on top of your chest. A whimper escapes your mouth, and you look up, your voice cracking as you feel your resolve melting away.

“Elvis… I can’t….”

“Shhh… see, that’s the fear I’m talking’ bout right there… “

He leaned in and nuzzled the side of your cheek with his nose, gently rubbing up your jawline, his right hand over your heart, his left moving down to stroke your side.

“Shhhhh little girl…. Shhhh…. I ain’t gonna hurt ya …”

“It’s not that..” You whisper, your eyes averting his. “It’s just… I’m a mess… I haven’t showered, or ate much, or slept… I’m so exhausted… you deserve a proper date … you should be picking up a beauty queen or a play boy bunny…”

You felt the vibrations through his tummy, pressed further into you, as Elvis chuckled.

“Why, do y’all even have any of ‘em bunnies here in Jackson?” He stepped back, motioning to leave. Another chuckle, and he was flourishing a silk paisley handkerchief from his breast pocket, holding your chin up as he wiped your eyes and your forehead. The apples in his cheek formed as he matched your reluctant grin.

“Go on baby, stick out your tongue.”

You furrowed your brow, twitching your mouth, as he reached in to his pocket.

“Stop a twitchin’, for the love of Jesus. Les try one of those ‘yes daddys’ I was talking ‘bout…”

You scoffed. “I will never say that, specially to someone who tells me to…”

He looked down at an assortment of pills in his hand, and pulled out a single, small white capsule, grinning.

“We’ll see ‘bout that… mean time, just stick out yer tongue, woman!”

With a humpf, you acquiesced, and Elvis dropped the pill on your tongue, pushing it back in your mouth.

“Trust me, you’re gonna feel better in a few minutes… s’like caffeine, but a lil' stronger. ”

Swallowing, you look into his eyes. “What was that, speed?”

“Do I look like a drug dealin’ commie? I’m a federal drug enforcement agent.” You cracked a grin, and his eyes grew serious. “That’s the god’s honest truth. This stuff is jus ‘scription medicine, a diet pill. S'not strong, ain’t gonna get you high. Trust me, I’ve studied this stuff... I’m a trained healer - told you last night….”

“Ok… but I’m still a mess…”

“You’re not a complete mess. Goddamn, check out this fine lookin’ belt. Man, that’s really sumpthin'.” He grinned, amusement in his voice as his hands slowly pulled off your orange work vest from the top of your shoulders, then moved to the buckle of your belt. His belt. The belt you took as a souvenir back when this was just a one night stand. Elvis soft mouth was on your neck again, and your arms somehow found their way over his shoulders. Just as he moved his mouth from your neck to lean in and kiss you, you hesitated and pulled back.

“I - I …. I don’t know if —“

His finger moved up from their efforts to unhook your jeans.

“Hush now… no more guff. I’m here because something happened last night. I know you felt it. S’like we’re vibrating on the same frequency….”

“Elvis, you’re crazy…”

“No, now listen… I … my bed felt so cold when I woke up and you were gone… I’ve been missin' ya all damn day…  wasn’t gonna be able to do anything else til I found ya…”

His timbre was high pitched, and you heard it crack with vulnerability. His eyes filled with unabashed desire. Somehow in the last few minutes, Elvis’ temperament had gone from indignant swagger to sweet and needy. His right hand moved lower to fondle your left breast, his soft lips kissed your ear, and you tilted your head into him. It was freeing in away, to give up pretenses, and you let out a sob, releasing all the tension you were holding in. Elvis moved his hand from under your bosom and kissed your tears away. His face was framed by the soft, plush rounds of his double chin, and you leaned your forehead into them seeking out the warm comfort of his flesh. You would be happy to sink farther and farther into him and loose yourself in his snug, inviting body. 

“Shhhh … s’ok…” Elvis’ arms encircled you, and you buried yourself head forward into his neck, collapsing on his shoulder. His hips thrust forward into you, the swell of his belly smushed up into your breasts. Steady and strong, his hands smoothed you over your back, his mantra of murmured shsshhhhs continuing as he cheekily pulled the hem of your shirt over your head. You helped him, shaking the last sleeve off your arm impatiently and throwing it on the ground.

His lips were now on yours, gently kissing you, then bringing your head towards him, his tongue sliding into your mouth, sweeping over yours, daring you to push back, to resist it. Your hands gripped him at his neck, drawing him down further into your mouth, his finger fervently grabbed your hips and lifted you up, cupping your ass and you wrapped your legs around him. 

You felt him grunt and heave slightly as he carried you to the desk at the back corner of the room, his eyes unyielding, locked on yours, anchored by stormy dilated pupils.

“Gawd darlin’…I’m getting to oooooold to sweep lil’ girls like you off your feet.”

“Next time I’ll sweep you off your feet.”

“Honey, they’d be sweeping us both off the floor if you tried ta carry me across a room….” He grinned a breathy grin as he put you down.

Your bra was on the floor, followed by his jacket, and you squinted for a moment at the gun tucked into his waist. He smirked as he took it out and threw it on top of his jacket.

“There are three more, baby, wanna try to find them?”

Your breasts heave up as a guffaw slipped over your lips, but you forgot about his guns as Elvis pulled down your jeans, slowing to gently take your shoes off. He brought your left foot up to his cheek, nuzzling against your warm, soft skin, kissing the top of your arch, then following suit to take off the other one, reverently, slowly, removing the sock and then stroking the top of both feet as he looked forward into the center of your black cotton panties. You squirmed, suddenly self conscious and he bit his lower lip, hungry eyes meeting yours as his hands moved up your ankles towards your thighs. You shivered when the top of his index fingers delicately traced a line over your knees, clenching as he grasped the sides of your panties. Your hand went to Elvis’ shoulder.

“Hey… wait… why are you doing this? ”

“Figure I wanna do as much of this ‘fore I get too old,” he murmured, grinning up at you.

You smiled back, tousling his hair, exhaling.

“That’s not what I meant …. I meant …. like….… you can just, ya know, I mean we can just…you don’t really have to worry ‘bout, you know, doing this for me.” 

You pulled on his collar, but Elvis resisted, swiping your hands away and slapping your hip, an expression of delight on his face as he watched your side ripple in response. He pulled off your panties, leaning closer to your muff while looking up at you.

“Listen good, this is the last time I’m gonna ‘splain this. I’m a grown man, I don’t do anything I don’t want to. Now, lean back… and jus remember to breathe.“ He winked, a silly grin growing as he lifted your legs over his shoulders, kissing the hair at your entrance before parting you with his mouth and pushing in, tongue first. 

The vibrations of Elvis deep moan reverberated through your pussy, his shoulders heaved up and his whole body moved in rhythm, slowly licking you from your taint to your clit, savoring your soft, slick silkiness. 

He paused, sitting back to remove his glasses, murmuring to himself as his thumb worked in circles around your nub and you found yourself moaning out, uncontrollably. 

“You need to get me some windshield wipers for those…” he looked at you, clearly amused with himself as you giggled. “We coulda been back in my hotel room doin' this if you weren’t so difficult…. never met a more stubborn woman… “

You moan, looking off to the side, as he rounded the bend of your clit, then lowered his fingers, flicking his wrist to slowly push his right index finger inside of you.

“This ok, baby?”

You nodded, you neck arched back as you cried out. Elvis was touching you in a way no other man had ever touched you, had ever wanted to or cared to try.   

“Want me ta keep going?

You nodded your head, breathy whimpers stuttering out.

“Know what I wanna hear…”

“Yes…… Elvis….” You smirked.

“So goddamn stubborn…” he shook his head, leaning backing into your hips, his mouth consuming your pussy, his tongue now stroked you softly and each flick made you shiver with a tingle. A burning fire coiled behind your belly as he moved his index finger in and out in time with the bob of his head, groaning into you. The sensation became almost too intense and your head thrust back, eyes looking up at the ceiling. Shifting your weight onto your wrists, you begin to move your hips forward to meet his mouth, surging to chase the tension building in your core as Elvis’ lapped and then sucked your clit, index finger rotating slowly within you. You found his finger somewhat distracting, and were just about to ask him to stop, when he hit a spongey nerve point inside you and your hips jerked back. You feel Elvis chuckle as he pulled up for air, his left hand holding up your hips to bring you back closer while he crooked his finger inside you. Each time the pad of his finger hit that spot you twitched.

“What is that? Ahhhh! Ughhh…” you cry out, your breath heavy because the sensation is so intense, it terrifies you. Elvis wipes his mouth on your thigh, his thumb is back at it, and he seems to delight in every twitch of your belly as you clench around his finger. 

“That… that’s the magic spot, lil' girl… Can’t believe I’m the first one to find it…” his eyes found yours, and he swallowed, deeply. “Goddamn. You’re blushing like a nun…”

You cannot take your eyes off him, even as his finger flexes and crooks into you and your mouth flinches open with a loud, insuppressible, high-pitched moan. 

“Hff, baby….you look like a scared kitten staring down the mouth of a gator…. ‘fraid he’ll snap ya right up…” he gnashed his teeth together loudly, for effect, exhaling deeply with another chuckle, before returning to lap at your clit, dragging his tongue slowly over it, up it and down it, and then all the way around it.

Your thighs quiver on his cheeks and you let out another squeak, embarrassed. The feeling of impending eruption terrifies you, and another powerful moan emerges unsummoned through your lips, half from pleasure, half from fear. You’re torn between your drive to climax and the almost unbearable sensation his tongue is beckoning from you. The dexedrine begins to take effect, and a wave of energy pulses through you. Every sensation is suddenly ten times more intense. A volcano erupting, your orgasm bursts forth and shocks you as you thrash into Elvis’ nose, crying out while the euphoria sweeps over your body.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GOD, oh my god…” He leans back, watching with a coy smirk as he thumbs you through it, wiping his mouth again on his right sleeve this time, his left hand holds you steady at your hips.

“Elvis stop, stop! I can’t take it any more.”

“Ok honey, s’ok, now,” he beamed, slowing the flick of his wrist, gently drawing out his index finger. “Man, twitching and clenchin’ so hard thought I might lose my damn finger in there… think I’ll call you Twitch for short. ”

You let out a loud snort, slapping the side of Elvis’ head playfully as he smirks up at you, leaning back on his haunches, now wiping himself on his pants.

“You make my ….  my … my nether regions sound dangerous …” 

Elvis’ right hand smoothes your pubic hair down. 

“Nah, nothing I can’t handle, baby…. just needs to be tamed is all…” he winked.

“So, come tame me…” you offer, laying further back on the desk top, caressing the side of his face with your left toes. He brings them to his mouth, slowly sucking on the big toe and you moan out, not expecting how delicious the soft, wet suction would feel. You can see the bulge of his cock shadowing his thigh as he pulls his mouth off your toe with a pop. 

 “Oh Jesus, take me to heaven now cuz I really am getting too old for this.” Elvis grunts, pulling on the desk to stand up.

He brushes off his knees, then shifts between your legs, and your hands pull him down by his collar to kiss your lips, not sure how you feel tasting the salty tang of yourself there. You think maybe you like it. Feeling your way to his belt, you begin to pull it apart as you kiss him back, but his right hand moves to firmly stop you.

“Dontcha want to fuck me, daddy?” Fuck, what made you say that? You chided yourself, you hated how happy it made him as you watched his grin grow wide. He shook his head, taking your hand and kissing the top.

“Honey, I didn’t come here to fuck you in some dirty, dingy store room… I came here to invite ya to supper ‘after my show, which I might miss on account of you being a spoiled, no count brat…. so we better pop to it.” He looked you in the eyes as your smile faded and self-conscious guilt swept over you. He pulled you in tight and pressed his forehead against yours. Your noses touched, and his breath was warm and comforting.

“C’mon sugar, course I wanna fuck you, fuck you so silly all ‘a Jackson can hear you call out my name.” He chuckled. “But… this is not exactly the romantic setting I like to make love in…. know what I mean? Let’s get back to my place, get you all fed and cleaned up.” He bent down and handed you your underwear and pants. “Want you down in front at the show. Imma have Joe run out and grab you a proper dress….” Now he was handing you your bra, then your shirt. “But we better scoot, I go on at 8:30.”

He looked over at the clock, and you followed his gaze, it was 6:35.

You turned, buttoning your jeans.

“Not Joe…..”

Eyebrows tensed, Elvis’s eyes were sharp as he looked up from tucking his gun back into his waist.

“What you got against ol' Diamond Joe?”

“I… ugh… let’s say we didn’t hit it off exactly, last night…. “

 Elvis pulled you in front of him, and then took a step back, grabbing a comb from inside his coat, then brushing your hair, clucking his tongue when your hair flipped back the wrong way. Content after fixing your part, he tucked the sides behind your ears.

“That’s better… looks good down, jus like that….” He bit his tongue in apt concentration. Comb in pocket, he put his arm around you, and led you out of the room, down the hall and towards the front of the store.

“Wanna wash your hands?”

Elvis stops, and takes his right hand off you, then brings his index and middle finger up to his lips.

“What, this hand baby?” He sucks on his fingers, his eyes dancing. “Not ever gonna wash this hand again.” He chuckles as you swat him and his hand returns to your side, continuing to walk you to the front of the store.

“So why didn’t you and Joe, uh,… ‘hit it off’?”

You pause, then look up as Elvis walks you into the store front.

“Yeah, well…. he couldn’t take a hint and was kinda being … pushy…  last night …. right before you started lobbing pretzels at me …  He told you my name was Rachel, cuz that’s what I told him…. I don’t know, I guess didn’t want him to know my real name … I…”

“Huh… I see… alright, honey, don’t worry about Joe… I’ll take care a him.”

You paused outside, locking the front door before pulling it shut, and then gasped when you saw the long, black car in front of the store with three guys waiting in it.  How long had they been there, an hour? A large man sat at the wheel, another skinny one next to him, and then there was Joe frowning in the back seat. He looked out the window after making eye contact with you. Elvis opened the back door, and barked at Joe to jump in front, motioning for you to get in. 

“C’mon Becky," Elvis helped you.

“Becky?” Joe asks, turning as the car takes off.

“Yeah, well it’s Rachel to creeps who can’t take a hint, but it’s Becky to every’un else.” Elvis barked at Joe, who started to turn. “I don’t want ta hear it, Joe, just keep your head forward an do as yer told,” Elvis said, palming a few pills out of his pocket and swallowing them dry. Joe huffed and hit his hand on the door.

The younger man in the middle seat turned, and shook your hand.

“Hey Becky, I’m Jerry.” Then he looked at Elvis. “What took you so long?”

You blush and look down. 

Elvis smirked. “Yeah, sorry to keep ya fellows waiting, decided to have a snack.”

Jerry’s eye brows bent in confusion.

“I thought it was a hardware stor—-“ The driver jabbed Jerry in the ribs and he grimaced, turning back around.

“Yeah, s’its a hardware store alright, but they have a bunch of peanuts, pretzels, jerky… what was that honey? Cold beaver ya got out for me in that ice chest in the back? Tasted pretty good once we warmed it up.” Elvis put his right arm around you, chortling as your cheeks turned bright red and you buried your head in his shoulder. “I’m sorry baby, these guys have been working for me for over fifteen years, ain’t nothin' to be embarrassed about…”

Somehow, the idea that Elvis might make his entourage wait around regularly while he was off fucking random women didn’t make you feel any better. Groaning the groan of someone who suddenly feels like a cheap, anonymous, whore, you leaned into Elvis’ armpit, and he responded by patting your back. You react to his tender rub and chortle by slapping his belly. He laughed harder, and pulled out a cigar from his breast pocket, lighting it up and humming as he rolled down the window.

“Hey, Lamar, what’s that department store downtown Jackson? The good ‘un we went to back in May?”

“Kennington’s.”  The driver in front responded, adjusting his sunglasses.

“Jerrah, you’re gonna go run in and get Becky here a few dress options, Lamar’ll come back for you after he takes us to the hotel.”

Joe let out a loud sigh.

“That a problem for you, Joe?”

Joe shook his head. “Have better luck for her at the Dress Barn, they ain’t gonna have her size at that place, nothing over a 10… she’s a 14 if she’s a day…”

You shifted, sinking further into the seat and blushing again.

Elvis hit him in the back of the head.

“Lamar, pull the goddamn car over.” Elvis gritted his teeth as the vehicle came to a stop. “GET OUT! Dammit, Joe, must have lost yer damn mind… if ya can’t be polite to my guests, you can walk yer happy ass back to the hotel.” Joe scoffed and looked over at Jerry in disbelief. “Don’t look at him, ya can file your complaints wit me.  Rude mother fucker, I swear…  forgettin’ your manners. Forgettin’ who the boss is ‘round here.” Elvis slapped Joe on the side of his head again, and Joe swore under his breath as he jumped out of the car and slammed the door. 

“Right.” Elvis murmured as the car drove off again. “Where were we? Oh right, let’s drop Jerrah at that store.  You know what kind of dresses would look good on her, right Milk?” Jerry turned around, looking you up and down. “Now, go ahead sweetheart, tell him your dress size, and shoes too… Jerrah, write this down.”

You look Jerry in the eyes. “Um…. dress size is a 12… 9 in shoes…” 

Jerry smiled at you, writing it in a small notepad, and hopping out as Lamar drove up to the curb at Kennington’s, yelling at Jerry, “The hotel’s just a few blocks away, I’ll be right back.”

———————————

Lamar flashed a broad smile at you as he helped you out of the car, and walked you and Elvis to the service elevator, opening doors and smiling at the staff you passed coming in through the back of the hotel. You ran your hand through your hair on the ride up to the pent house, imagining Joe walking backing in the summer heat cursing your name with each step. Great. Noticing your far off look, Elvis squeezed you into to him, bringing your other fingers up to his mouth to kiss them. 

“Nice fingers… that’s a French manicure, so you can’t be a mess all the time.” Your face softened as you look up at Elvis’ profile, flapping his left cheek with your fingers.

“Well, unlike some people, I usually don’t spend my nights awake at rock concerts followed by one nights stands. Getting my nails done, it's one the few things I do just for me. You’re welcome to admire them all you want, but…. they’re not for you.”

Elvis chuckled, lowering his arm from your shoulder to slap your ass as you get off the elevator, and you turn towards him, mock hurt through a smile as you walk backwards.

“There’s that back talk again, thought I knocked that outta ya…” he smirked, licking his lips.

“Ha! Never! You may have temporarily dazed me, but no man will ever tame me!” you announce, and shriek as Elvis raises an eyebrow and steps toward you.

“Oh, we’ll see ‘bout that…” he calls out, and you giggle, shrieking as you turn to run down the hallway, rounding the corner past the hallway you made out in last night and towards the pent house door. You can feel the thud of Elvis jogging behind you echo through the entire passage way. You sigh out as you get to the door and realize you are stuck, you don’t have the key, and you squeal out as you feel strong, hefty hands grab you at the waist and turn you around. 

“Gotcha!” He smiles, panting. “Man, what’s with you… this ain’t the Kentucky Derby baby… that’s the fastest I’ve run since I was in the army… back in 19… 19… 1916…” 

You  laugh out a “Ha, ha ha!” then feel his chest heave as he lifts you over his shoulder and starts to spank your bottom lightly. “Just you wait til I get you inside!” You slap him on his back, yelling out “Put me down you big brute,” through playful gasps and giggles. His fingers fondle your butt and thighs as he walks into the hotel room, and they glide over your backside as he helps you slid off his shoulder.

“You are a thick girl, aintcha?” He draws you into him, and you respond slapping the top of his belly.

“Ha, I’m ‘bout average… you should talk, you’re thicker than I am …” The laughter in your voice stops as you notice Elvis’s smile tighten and fade, his belly tenses up. You notice the hurt in his eyes, instantly shifting to sooth his chest. “The unfair thing is, though, men just get sexier the thicker they get.” Elvis’ eyes warmed as you played with his collar, talking into his chest. 

“Huh, that right? Well you should know honey, this layer right here,” Elvis patted the paunch protruding at his abdomen. “S’just an extra layer I keep around on purpose, as protection, it’s my bullet proof padding… really, that’s the truth.” His grin returned.

“Mmmhmmm… I feel safer already…” you bent your chin into the opening of his shirt, nuzzling his warm chest hair. “I know I’m thick, the opposite of the pretty women you usually date… Joe warned me last night, I’m not your type…”

Elvis grabbed your hips, kissing the top of your head.

“Well honey,” he laid another kiss on your hair, “ya ain’t particularly nice,” another kiss,  “ya don’t have particularly good manners… or any for that matter…” his finger traced along your neck to your collarbone. “Sneakin’ out of a man’s bed room without sayin' good bye, like a thief in the night…” you felt his fingers turning your chin up to him. “An' I do like it when my dates show up already dressed nice, wid their hair an' make-up already all done up…” he was trying to play it straight, but he couldn’t stop himself from breathing out a faint giggle through his nose. “But trust this, Joe don’t know shit, and he don’t tell me what to do or who to screw.” 

Elvis’ other hand stroked the side of your body with the back of his knuckles, the cool of his rings following as they trailed up from the top of your hip to the flap of flesh at your bra, where his knuckles lingered, tenderly rubbing that spot back and forth. Your heartbeat quickened, there was that lightening bolt rising up your spine. Elvis whistled out and you feel him stiffen against you. “Hell, you might be the most ornery, stubborn lil' girl here in Jackson… but there’s something about you -  God put you in my life for a reason - the lord works in mysterious ways. ”

“Like, through your dong?” you smirked, your hand moved down his chest to brush over his inner thigh, his hard, extended length spasmed under your touch. 

Elvis guffawed, then groaned.

“Sometimes… yes. Course. Lil Elvis is an implement of the lord, baby, just like the rest of me.” He looked pretty amused with himself, a humorous lilt intoned his words, and his voice rose up in jest like a preacher. “Wouldn’t feel so good if we weren’t supposed to use it…” 

You quirk your eyebrow. “That’s a bunch of bullshit… God does NOT care about your hard ons… ”

“Oh ye of little faith. How would you know, anyhow? He sent you to me, didn’t he? And suddenly I’m in hard-on town! Honey t’weren’t no accident. Everything happens for a reason. I really believe that. He brought you to my room last night for a reason, you caught my eye for a reason. There are bigger machinations at play that you and I can’t even begin to understand…”

“So I’m just a pawn in some celestial sort of plan to help you to get your mojo back?” 

Elvis’ hand left your arm pit and moved to slap your butt, then pulled you closer.

“Now woman, see here, my mojo is just fine. It’s just... selective… You always have a smart retort, dontcha.”

You nodded up at him. “I mean, I have a brain and I know how to talk, if that’s whatcha mean.”

He pulled you even closer, clutching you from your back.

“Know what I think?” He asked, and you raised your eyebrows, stroking his sideburns. “You talk too much.”

You huffed and pulled on his collar.

“So you want me to shut up and just be, what, some sort of snake charmer, huh? Doin’ the lord’s work to bring your python out?”

“Huh,” he grinned, his hands now pulling on the cushiony curves at your hips. “By George, I think you finally got it.  Now come-a here and be quiet.” He leaned forward, you felt the softness of his mouth on yours, your upper lip caught between his, and his nose crushed into your cheek. Elvis’ fingers grip your sides as he mumbles low. “You’re not bad looking when you hush up….  Not bad feeling’ neither... s’nice to have somethin’ to hold onto…”

Elvis was just beginning to pull your shirt up when you hear a cough behind you, and look over Elvis’ jacket to see Charlie jump up off the couch, rubbing the back of his head anxiously. Charlie must have been sitting there the whole time. Elvis’ arms dropped to his sides, and he spun around.

“Charlie, goddamn it boy,” he laughed. “Why didn’t you make yourself known, huh?”

“Well, EP… I … I …”

Elvis mocked him, “I ….? I…? I what? ‘I’m a big ol’ pervert?’” He sad the last part in a high falsetto voice. “Go on, git outta here.” 

“Yeah, sure thing, boss.. ummm… it’s just that its 6:45…. probably head out to the Coliseum in an hour… wanted to check in with you ‘bout —"

Elvis held his hand up to Charlie to stop him, and grabbed you by the hand, walking you through the suite, into the master bedroom and over to the bathroom. “There’s the shower, Twitch —“

“Twitch?”

“Yeah, member? That’s my new nickname for ya… cuz you twitch so much, and so prettily too….”

You groan and put your face in your hands. 

“Oh god…that’s why I never feel comfortable letting men do that…”

“Honey, you didn’t let me do nothin'… I do what I want….sides, nothing more natural, nor more beautiful…” 

“Ughh..” 

Elvis took your hands from you face, and kissed you. 

“I wish you didn’t blush so hard, might make me tease you less….” He stroked your cheek. “We better put the breaks on for now. Gotta get me to the show on time. Go take yerself a cold shower an’ get all scrubbed up…” 

You bobbed your head in assent, turning to walk to the shower. Elvis hung on the door frame watching you undress, winking as you look back at him over your shoulder and blowing you a kiss before he closed the door. The top of your head tingled, you felt wide awake, probably the pill Elvis gave you, but your forehead ached and the back of your eyes throbbed as if they were pushing up into your skull. The hot water soothed you and your muscles relaxed as you exhaled into the steam. You started to feel human again, washing the grime and sweat and sex from the last 24 hours off. You heard the bathroom door open, the last of the soap swirling down the drain as you finished rinsing out your hair, and you peeked through the glass door to see Elvis back, an approving smile on his face and a towel in his hands. You step out and his smile widened.

“Just how I like ya, naked and quiet.”

You reach for the towel but he shakes his finger and starts to dry you off, beginning with your breasts.

“Maybe you should go find a foxy mute to date… hmmm?”

“Now there’s an idea, ya know any?” The towel moved to your shoulders, and Elvis spins you around, gently rubbing the terrycloth over your back, bottom and legs. Then he spins you back to face him and wraps the towel around you, using it to draw you into him for a kiss. 

“Charlie and Jerry are grabbing my suit, I’m about to go get ready. I have your dress,” Elvis gestured for you to follow him back to the bed room, where he handed you a gold lame evening gown with a cowl neck. “There’s a hair dryer under the sink, honey, do you have any make up with you?” 

You shake your head.

“Man, you really didn’t do a good job planning for our date tonight…”

“Ooh, you mean my kidnapping? No, sorry…”

“Never met a more willing victim…”

“Ha!”

“S’ good thing you got kidnapped by someone who has a hair dresser, I’ll have Larry do you after me.”

You hear the door at the front of the room, and Elvis pats you on the bottom, again, as you turn back into the bathroom.

“Hey guys, back here!” You hear his voice call from the adjourning bedroom. “Becky’s in the john gettin’ ready…  Black Phoenix, good. Tell Lamar, I want supper laid out up here after the show, fried chicken, meatloaf, potatoes, maybe something healthy, like potato salad? Have ‘em fix it up good. Some snacks, you know, for us to pick at. Drinks. And I don’t want half of Jackson up here again…. just family.”

You tune them out, looking around for the hair dryer, eventually finding it next to a stack of boxed enema kits under the sink, an amenity that struck you as somewhat odd for a hotel to provide. But Elvis was only in town for a few days, why would he need so many? You didn’t want to think about it. Hair dry and somewhat straightened, you exhaled, taking a moment to look at yourself in the mirror, breathing slowly and trying to get your heart rate to slow down. Straining to get the gold dress over your bust, you suspected it is a size too small. The top was like a corset, constraining as it sucks you in, pushing your breasts up and almost out of the loose, cowl neckline. You snapped one of the thin gold straps, wondering if it would hold out for the night or break under the pressure your curves were exerting on it. Luckily, the gown fell looser at the waist, and the sleek, lame felt cool and silky over your bare legs. The shoes, at least were the right size, a set of matching gold platform sandals with a thick heel. A thick three or four inch heel. A thick heel that would mean walking may or may not work out for you, so you would need to go slow.

“Good, cuz you can’t breath anyway…” you tell your reflection.

Sucking in and moving slowly, you opened the bathroom door, finding Elvis sitting at the vanity decked out in a white jumpsuit with a black, zebra belt that has looped chains draped around the bottom. The silhouette of a large black bird in flight was stitched in black sequins on the back, and when he turned to look at you, you see the same silhouette on the front, black shiny wings rising along either side of his open chest. An older white guy stood behind Elvis, combing his hair out with his fingers and a spray bottle.

“There she is! Larry, this is Becky.” You nod at them, smoothing your hands over your belly, pulling up at your neckline.

“I think Jerry got me the wrong size… feel like I’m busting out of this dress…”

Elvis chuckled as he stood, walking over to you, hands on your waist, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as they stared down at your heaving breasts.  “Nah, you look just right.” You cocked an eyebrow as he led you to the vanity and told Larry to get you ready while he sat back in the large, leather chair on the other side of the bedroom and smoked a stogie. Your eyes met through the reflection mirror as Elvis watched in amusement while Larry made small talk with you.

“Nice to meet you, Becky…  is it short for Rebecca?” You nod. “Beautiful name… a Biblical name.”

“Hmmm, I s’pose, if you go in for that sort of thing…”

“Yeah, well, I go in for all sorts of things … you don’t?”

You purse your lips slightly. “No, I stopped believing in fairy tales when I grew up…” Elvis cocked an eye brow, exhaling his cigar and smirking as he shook his head, as if to warn you that you had no idea what you were getting into.

“Oh Becky, oh man, that really hurts me to hear you say that,” Larry dusted over the top of your cheeks with blush. “Gosh, if that’s your definition of growing up, I hope I never do… what’s the meaning of life without the deeper, spiritual mysteries of the world… how do we achieve a higher plane of existence?”

You sighed, “Life has no meaning, Larry, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but it’s all just chaos and I guess… I guess we just do our best to enjoy the way things get thrown together and figure out how to survive…”

“Oh man, oh man, in some ways, what you’re saying is very - close your eyes for a second, I’m gonna dust a finishing powder here - is almost existential, from a philosophical perspective, but I… well, I’ve experienced too many coincidences, too many psychic exchanges, almost too many dimensions to be able to even start to come back down to where you are.”

You were trying not to squint as he did a second coat of mascara.

“I didn’t go to college," you mutter, "So I’m not sure I really understand everything you're saying… but, its not like I’m miserable. I like my life, I guess...Sure I wish somethings were different, but… I don’t think I’m part of some bigger, coordinated plan… "

Larry clucked his tongue.

“What’s your birthday?”

You were startled for a moment, then responded. “July… July 26, 1948… why…?”

“8 …. You hear that EP? Just like you, her day of the month adds up to an 8!” He whispered to you. “Birth dates that add up to 8, well, they’re quite powerful… what, you don’t believe in numerology either, huh? Don’t you feel hopeless wandering around this beautiful earth, thinking like that? Were you raised with any religion?”

“Sure, yeah, my folks are Jewish, I still think of myself as a Jew - I.. um…it’s more of a.. um cultural thing, I guess…  if I had kids, I’d raise them the way I was, but I’d be honest with them about how things really are….”

Larry’s face lit up, as he turned to his bag to pull out a bottle of hairspray.

“Oh, I should have known you were mishpacha, look at those dark brown eyes… Oy Rivka, it makes my heart break hearing you talk about life so cynically…. Where did you find this one, anyway, EP? She’s cute, she’s smart and I can sense that you’ll have a real positive effect on her, bring some spiritually into her life... if she’ll just open up her mind …”

Elvis smiled devilishly, standing. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I don’t think I’ll have any probably getting her to open up for me… found her at the party last night, she’s just some groupie hanging round, wouldn’t let me be… practically begged to spend another day with me…”

Elvis stalked toward you, a smug look plastered on his face, his hand was on your shoulder as he looked into your reflection. Larry stepped back, pleased with his work. Looking at your reflection, it was a lot more makeup than you ever wore, gold eye shadow shimmered almost to your eyebrows. But you smiled, embracing the utter absurdity of it all and giving yourself over to the pleasurable of feeling glamorous. Not recognizing the tired, disheveled workaday Becky who walked into this pent house in jeans and converse an hour or so ago.

“Groupie…mmhmmm.. that’s me…” you smiled a broad, fake smile as you rose, grasping Elvis' shoulder to steady yourself. “This week it’s the great Elvis Presley, next week, Aerosmith is in town. Fingers crossed I can sneak into their party…”

Elvis grunts as he pulls you in front of him, hands on your waist.

“Ha! Not if I have anything to do with it….”

You playfully slap his shoulder, meeting his eyes.

“Told you Presley, no man can tame me…”

He grips your butt, then smacks it.

“I ain’t just any man, Twitch… mmhmmm… you’ll see…”

You turn to  Larry, saying in Yiddish, “How do you stand working with this asshole, huh?” Larry laughed, and Elvis crooked an eyebrow.

“Hey, now… what she say?”

Larry looked over at him, “Oh just how lucky I am to spend all my days with you.

———————————

Heading to the coliseum in a caravan of long black limos, you realize it’s past 8 o’clock, and you are anxious for Elvis when you arrive only 10 minutes before he is supposed to perform.

“Isn’t this cutting it close?” You murmur, taking his hand out of the limo and hanging on to his arm for dear life as you stumble alongside him through the stage door.

“Nah, honey, this is how I like it… otherwise I’m a caged animal, prowling around the dressing room. No, it’s better this way... I walk right from the limo onto the stage. Keeps the momentum going.” He looked over his shoulder. “Jerrah! I want Becky up in front, in the middle, and have someone keep an eye on her. Don’t won’t her gettin’ smashed in the stampede of women running up to get me.”

He looked down at you and winked.

“And Jerrah, I’m gonna need you to do better with the gatorrrr - ade tonight, last night my throat was so dry I thought I was Bob Dylan.”

He grinned down at you to see if you got his joke. You rolled your eyes, and he slapped your left butt cheek playfully. Again. Your butt was getting more attention in the last few hours than it had in the last ten years.

“Now, that was a good one… shudda laughed... most stubborn audience in Jackson, guys, right here. Look at how hard she has to work to frown at my jokes. ”

You lean into his shoulder, relishing the coziness of his body enclosed around you as long as you could before you arrived at the backstage curtain. Elvis hands began to tremble slightly as he stepped away from you. Caught off by how cold and alone you suddenly felt without his arm around you, you noticed that Elvis’ breathing became shallow and panicked as he let go of you and walked toward the curtain, mumbling to himself.

”You can do this boy, you can do this….you love this…. you do this ev’ry night.”

“Is he ok?” You ask Jerry, who is now walking you around to the front of the stage. Jerry looks at you, a soft smile.

“Yeah, this is good, every once an a while we have a hard time getting him out of the dressing room. Crazy, huh? Think he’d have gotten over stage fright by now…”

Jerry pats your back, leaving you at center stage, thirty or so feet closer than where you had been last night. Tonight’s performance was similar, though it was rougher being in the eye of the storm. The music was louder, and the blare of the horns hit you in the face the moment they began. You watched Elvis propel himself on stage, where he was instantly transformed from nervous school boy to a charismatic rock star strutting and dancing and karate kicking himself across the platform. Exuding a cheerful, roguish vitality, he playfully bantered with the women who ran up to kiss him, joked with the audience, or stopped the music to ask a little girl about the drawing she brought up for him to sign. The restrictive, tightness of your dress and your unsteady heels all faded away as you were taken captive by Elvis’ showmanship. He stopped to wink down at you throughout the night. You were paralyzed when he strode over to center stage and bent his left leg back in a karate stance, then proceeded to thrust above you several times, grinning like a teenager and laughing as he sang. It brought a swarm of butterflies to your tummy, and they flew up your stomach to take permanent residence at the top of your rib cage for the rest of the show, fluttering around while you quivered. You felt yourself blush, and you knew Elvis had noticed it when he walked downstage and paused to fan himself with his own hand.

“Wheweee, this June weather is heating us up, ain’t it lil girl,” and he looked over at you. You didn't think your cheeks could get any redder, but you were wrong. Elvis grinned, then looked back out at the thousands of people behind you. “But that’s alright, that’s just the kind of show ya do on a Monday evening. We came here to be with y’all and to sweat and to hand out scarves.” 

He winked again, and you swore he was about to bend down and kiss you when he stopped just short of your position and kissed the blonde next to you, looking over at you with a smirk and an eyebrow waggle after wrapping a white scarf around her.

—— ----------

Thirty minutes after the show, and you were still sitting next to Lamar in the dressing room, waiting for Elvis to finish signing autographs by the stage. Lamar offered you a Pepsi and M & Ms from a bowl, and you crunched them angrily. 

“Five more minutes, and I’m fixin’ to just take myself home,” you whine, leaning your head back. 

Lamar chuckled. “Don’t let him hear that, EP’ll intentionally make us wait another hour just to show you what happens when you’re impatient… “

“I’ll be long gone before I spend two hours twiddling my fingers back here…”

Lamar looked at you, and shrugged, you guessed he’d seen worse. You stood up to go out to the stage. Lamar looked up from his newspaper.

“You’ll  wanna fix your lipstick.” 

You raised your eyebrows in disdain. “I wasn’t wearing any make-up when I met him last night?”

Lamar hit his knee, ”Well, I’m not gonna say it never happens… but its rare… I’ve been with him for almost twenty years, off an on, and I’ve seen Elvis go out with women of all shapes an sizes, older, younger, married, divorced, single moms, business women, sisters - one right after the other … but they’ve been … they’ve pretty much always … attentive to their appearance… let’s just say he’s never been shy to tell a girl, or any of us, I s’pose, what to wear, how to do our hair, how to look. He knows what he likes, and he almost always gets it, sonabitch… I mean, look at you now ….”

You looked at your self in the full length mirror. Lamar was right, you looked like a different person. An almost pretty one, like those old money debs who you were making fun of last night. You pulled at your neckline, vainly attempting to cover your breasts more.

“Do you think he told Jerry to buy my dress a size down?”

Lamar chortled. “Ha, at least! If not two… partly because he knows he likes the way it shows off your figure, no disrespect meant. But also partly to fuck with you. He likes to turn the screw a bit… it's subconscious, like, sometimes he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.”

“Yeah, well, he definitely knew what he was doing when he made Joe get out of the car on the other side of town…”

“Oh, “ Lamar popped some candy in his mouth, “that’s nothin’, he once fired Joe and left him in the middle of the Mojave dessert…” 

You gasped and shook your head, wondering if you should just go home. Fixing some stray hairs, you wiped your mouth, realizing you didn’t have lipstick with you, or anything, so if you did decide to leave you wouldn’t be able to get a cab. Maybe Lamar would take pity on you and drive you home? Or you could find a phone and beg someone to come get you. Maybe you should, the allure of the concert was starting to dissipate, the fatigue was coming back, it was 10:30 and seeing Elvis through Lamar’s perspective was making you question your decision to come out tonight…. For the thousandth time. Your pulled at your neckline once again, and gave Lamar a salute as you hobbled out to the stage to take another look at your date before deciding whether to sneak off, determined not to let these heels take you down.

Elvis’ face lit up with boyish glee when he saw you meander out. Just that quick exchange made you giddy and your desire to leave evaporated. You ambled over to lean against the stage from the grassy field, looking up and watching him where he stood ten feet away, surrounded by people waiting for him to sign their photos, stuffed animals, panties, or take a picture. Elvis bathed in their admiration, laughing and joking and pulling faces with them, while Jerry and five tired men moved them through the line. About every fifteen minutes, Elvis would turn to where you now sat on the tip of the stage, swinging your feet, and holler.

“Hang loose darlin’, just be another five minutes.”

It was 11:37 when you observed Elvis kiss the last pair of women goodbye and stomp over to you with an effected, stilted gait. A damp towel around his neck, his eyes still twinkling from the unfiltered love he’d been basking in over the last few hours. From where you sat, head leaning on your arms over the stage floor, he seemed fifteen feet tall. You gasped when Elvis suddenly plopped down on his knees about an inch from your face and poked your nose, his voice sweet and light.

“So how you doin?”

You smiled, to tired the fight his charm. Any lingering impatience or resentment you felt from waiting the last two hours melted like a popsicle in the glow of his radiance. Head still laying to the side, you responded in a breathy, dreamy voice.

“Hmmmm… just fine and dandy…” 

“Good… still wanna come have dinner with me?” 

You nodded, and Elvis took your hand to help you up.

“C’mon Becky Butt, let’s go get something in that sweet mouth ‘o yours …”

“You’re worse than a teenage boy, you know that?” You scowl, but nevertheless, can’t help your visceral need to seek out the warmth of his body and plunge into his side.

——-----------

You did find something to stick in your mouth. Potato chips, cheese and crackers, grapes, fried chicken, roasted potatoes, little bites of key lime pie. Sipping your second beer, you walk over to the couch and settle down. Looking around the room, you consider that, while there are certainly less people here tonight, this is hardly what you would consider a small gathering. The suite is filled with the men of Elvis’ entourage, a handful of band members, a handful of women, maybe wives, girlfriends, lovers? Your dress, thankfully, had given in to the roundness of your body and stretched out a bit, so you can at least breathe, although your breasts were still mounting their rebellion. You pulled up the neck line again, and shifted toward Charlie, who was tuning a guitar on the other side of the couch. 

“Hey, I heard Elvis during the show, he said you’re from Alabama?’

Charlie looked up at you, his fingers playing a few unorganized chords, and he nodded, then looked over towards the kitchen. You followed his eyes to Elvis, who’s back was turned. You noticed Elvis’ hand seemed very cozily wrapped around the waist of one of his backup singers, what was her name, Kathy? You watch his fingers rub her back. You sighed, he was a handsy guy and you were not into jealous drama, so you turn back to Charlie, who seemed to relax.

“Mhmm, where are you from … Becky is it?”

“Birmingham…. but I’ve lived here in Jackson, gosh for 10 years…. So,” you looked back over at the kitchen, and whisper. “Charlie, why are there 1000 enema kits in the bathroom?”

Charlie belted out a surprised guffaw, and shook his head.

“I’m not even gonna start with that….”

“Ok,” you grinned. “So, how many women you reckon big man over there has slept with?”

Charlie chuckled into his guitar again, and just shook his head.

“Too many… but I’ll tell ya what…I’ve been hanging out with that man these last 17 our 18 years or so, and I’ve eaten meatloaf and fried chicken so often I cain’t barely stand ‘em.” Charlie fooled around strumming the guitar a bit more. “Sometimes he just wants meatloaf, every night, like for six months at a time…. Sometimes he wants all his favorite dishes buffet style, all at the same time, see? He might go for somethin’ new, but even then, usually, it’s cuz its similar, like… shepard’s pie, that’s a lot like meatloaf, jus with mashed potatoes on top… then that becomes his favorite dish for a while, and he has to have it ev’ry night til it's not new any more…  see, EP, man ….he takes comfort in the familiar…”

You nodded, smiling, getting what Charlie was trying to say. I guess I’m the shepard’s pie of Jackson…

“So, where y’all headed next on this tour?” You smooth you dress as you bend your knees up behind you on the couch, and giggle as a nipple pops up and you push it back into your dress.

“Oh, well, we’re goin’ back ta Memphis tomarra, for—" all of a sudden one of the other guys was in front of Charlie, bending in his ear. 

“Crazy over there wants to talk to ya,” you heard him whisper.

“Sure, Dick,” Charlie nodded back, and looked over you, handing you his guitar. “Hold this for me, won’t ya?”

You lean across him to put your drink on the side table, and you feel Charlie tense as your breasts graze his lap, you’ve never seen anyone hop up so fast as he alights and hands you his instrument. Taking his guitar, you flip your legs back on the ground, and eyes following the two men as they walk over to Elvis, who is now very much turned toward you, a grimace clouding his face. Kathy has been replaced by another man who’s talking to him. You wonder what upset him? But you are distracted by the guitar in your lap, and start to strum a few notes, smiling up at Elvis as you start to sing an old folk song from one of your Joan Baez records that popped into your head, you don’t know why. You’re not in love with Elvis, you’ve only known him 24 hours, but he does have black hair…

Black, black, black is the color of my true love's hair

His face so soft and wondrous fair

The purest eyes

And the strongest hands

I love the ground on where he stands

Closing your eyes, you let the buzz from the drinks and the show and the energy of the party creep over you and you give yourself to the song, singing softly. You open your eyes to see Elvis strolling over to you while you sing, and he takes a seat next to you where Charlie had been, leaning back into the armrest. There is wonder and affection in his eyes, and you push your leg into him as he rubs you knee while you warble out the last verse of the song.

“Where’d you learn to sing these sad sack songs, mhmm?” He scoots you closer to him, his hands snaking around your waist. You lean your head onto his chest, appreciating the way your head fits under his chin, strumming the strings casually.

“Summer camp… as a teenager …. it’s actually not far from here... just outside of Jackson.”

The warmth of his fingers trace up the side of your body, and you absentmindedly lift one hand to stroke his right sideburn, pulling on the curly, rough hair. His breath is hot on your ear when Elvis murmurs.

“Not bad, for an amateur I guess…”

“Ha…. most stubborn audience in Jackson, guys, right here.” You call out, your voice is playful and loud, and Elvis pulls you on to his lap.

“Hmmm… you’re funny, ya know that?” He kisses your lips, and you dangle the guitar down by its neck, your other hand on Elvis’ shoulder to return his kiss, and then nuzzle back into him. “Go on now, play me a ‘nother one…” he cooed.

You turn your face up to his, and nod.

“K, here’s another from camp.” And you start to strum the chords to the folk version of an old Hebrew prayer, your head against his while his arm wraps around you. Your feet now dangle over the edge of his lap and his other hand rests over you, thumb rubbing your thigh as you sing.

Hashkiveinu Adonai 

Eloheinu l’shalom

V’ha’amideinu Malkeinu 

l’cha--yim 

Spread the shelter of your peace over us 

Guide us in wisdom, compassion, and trust

Hashkiveinu Adonai 

Eloheinu l’shalom

V’ha’amideinu Malkeinu 

l’cha--yim 

Save us for the sake of your name 

Shield us from hatred sorrow and pain 

Elvis lips kiss your neck.

“That’s beautiful honey, what’s it mean?”

You look down, still cradling the guitar. “I guess its a call out to God to lay us down with peace when we go to sleep at night, and give us peace when we wake in the morning… a call for protection.”

Elvis stroked your thigh, then moved his hands over yours on the guitar. “Go head, teach me the chords… I wanna learn this.”

You feel a firm rod hardening underneath you as you show him how the song goes, fingers over fingers, his lips on your neck, repeating the words. You laugh at his Hebrew pronunciations and he slaps your hip, laughing with you.

“How can you sing this music honey, and then say you don’t believe in God?”

You thought of your conversation earlier, and looked up to see if anyone heard what you and Elvis were saying. The crowd had gotten smaller, but those remaining seemed to be paying very little attention to the two of you.

“Of course you believe in God, Elvis, cuz your life is a fairy tale… handsome, talented, successful… but it’s really just random chance… why would God make some people beautiful and others ugly? Why would he make some poor and others rich? There’s no rhyme or reason to our lives…”

Elvis’ knuckles trailed across your cheek. 

“Ya don’t really think life is pointless?”

You hesitate. “Not pointless… but any meaning it has is meaning we give it, while we deal with all the bullshit we get dealt…”

“This…” Elvis murmured into your ear. “This is why he brought you to me. We’re meant to help each other… I’m going to help you seek him out…”

“Elvis…” you whisper, “what if I’m meant to help show you that there is no God?”

“Oh baby, I know there’s a God… I’ve seen ‘im….” 

You roll your eyes, and Elvis pulls you tighter, chuckling.

“Hmmm. So you’re bringing me to the light, how am I helping you?”

“Thought we already covered that… you’re using those snake charmin’ skills to remind me how God works in mysterious ways.” You feel him thrust his hips up into you a few times. His erection is undeniable, and you cough out a guffaw as he smirks, then lifts you up, one hand under your knees, the other around your arm. You shriek and drop the guitar.

“Oh no!”

“Don’t worry, baby, jus Charlie’s guitar, don’t matter one bit.” He smiled deviously over in Charlie’s direction and kicked the instrument out of his way, before bellowing out over your lifted frame. “Alright y’all, quitting time, s’been a long day, time to hit the hay.” You giggle, blushing again, its obvious that he is about to carry you to the bed room and you burrow into his chest to hide.

——-----------

Emerging from the master bathroom, face clean, hair brushed back, you’re wearing a slinky, pink silk nightie Jerry must have bought and put out for you on the bed. You shiver, seeing Elvis in his own blue pajamas already in the bed. He pats the space beside him, and you scurry over, launching onto the bed with a jump.

“Slow down, lil' girl, this ain’t the Grand Prix…”

You nod, breath shallow and nervous as you get under the covers and lay down next to Elvis. He turns, fingers slowly stroking your tummy, his face hovering an inch above yours. You shiver, breathing in more deeply, taking in his distinct musk of sweat, tobacco and spice. His lips softly skim over yours.

“Have a good time tonight?”

“Mhmmm,” your hands move up his chest and around his neck. 

His fingers trail down your belly, you feel the flames crackling at your core burst into a fire, and you bite your lip. Elvis grins, his cheeks expanding. His fingers are under your nightie, and he grins wider as he notices you aren’t wearing underwear, growling as he pushes your nightie up. You gasp as those fingers work their way down, running through your pubic hair. He raises his eyebrows, you feel his cock twitch against you, and you nod your chin, a slight moan escaping you as you lean up into his mouth and move your hands from his neck to pull down his pajama bottoms. He chuckles into your kiss.

“OK, woman, ok…. Now let a man take his own drawers off….”

You sit up against the pillows and Elvis rolls over on his back to pull his pajamas off and throw them to the floor first, pants then shirt. Why did we even get changed? You think as you turn to him, hand on his chest, mouth on his neck, his moans joining yours as you move to straddle his thighs. Looking up at you with awe, he pulls your night gown off and you slowly grind against him. Elvis’ hands move to your waist, grasping your soft, cushy handles, and you arch your head back when he lifts his thumb to his mouth and sucks over it, then lowers it to your clit. Each stroke is deliberate, soft, slow, and you buck forward with a tremor, moaning out. His stiff length rubs between your ass cheeks, and you thrust against it. You halt your movements forward and rise up, using your hands to guide him inside you, then grunting out as you bear down on him, the friction and the stretch a welcome thrill as you slowly plunged further. Elvis grunts and sits up, responding to the magnetic electricity that had been building between you all night. Neither of you can get close enough, you pull each other as tight as possible, surging your hips down into him while he grips your handles. Your arms wind around his neck and his forehead is damp against your chin and his voice speaks into your neck high and breathy.

“Oh baby, sweet baby, where ya been all my life? Huh?”

Your chest heaves into him, and you ride him further, crying out with a twitch when his cock hits that new magic spot. Your G spot. Your E spot. Moaning, you kiss down on the top of his head, grasping him closer when his arms tighten around your waist. You feel the sweat dripping down through his chest hair as it chafes against your nipples, the sensation brings a gasp out of your mouth. You meld together with each clap of thunder as your hips meet his over and over, your skin is electrified and the sensation seems more intense than the previous night, your bodies seem more in tune with each other, so much so that they seem to fit together. You follow where he leads, and he responds to each movement you make, lips seeking out the nape of your neck, sending shivers through you until his soft kisses become aggressive and you try to consume each other before the flames rise up out of the bed to devour you both.

“Oh GOD, Elvis! Fuckkkkk….”

You call out, your whole cunt is vibrating with anticipation, you can feel electricity coiling behind your belly button.

“See honey? Its workin’ already… I’m bringing you closer to God.. ugghhhh....” he grunts as you bear down on him. You try to roll your eyes but then have to squeeze them closed when his hands work your hips up and down again and you spasm.

Another minute, and you are screaming out through the waves of pleasure emanating up your core, your rolls into each other slow, and there it is, you can’t help it, you’re sobbing again as a feverish warmth spreads over you. Elvis’ fingers are on your face, clearing away your hair, wiping your tears with his thumbs.  His hips are stilled, and he kisses your chin, your lips part with a deep exhale.

“Ugh, oh, God, I don’t know——“

“Ssshhh,” he pulls you into him. “S’ok...” He murmurs into your neck, you wrap yourself further around him from above, and begin to move again. “You wanna keep goin’?

“Mhmm” you breath out, clenching around him and you feel as if he’s gone even deeper inside you, like Elvis is probing so far into you he might burst right through you. The rhythm resumes, your bottom hits his knees as you lunge up and down and you feel him gasp in a soft, weak high voice.

“Oh darlin’, let me be your baby… just take me in you and let me be your lil’ baby….?” His eyes beg you, and his mouth contorts into a pinched expression of shock and pleasure. Hands on your hips, Elvis pulled you forward onto him and you increase your pace, pushing faster into him, wet skin slapping against his chest while he holds you close, your hands smoothing over his hair and you whisper.

“There’s a good boy, ahhh! ….. course you can be my baby… my good baby... my bubbleleh…” you murmur, smoothing the top of his hair. You have never talked the way during sex, it just comes out in the moment and you go with it as you both inhabit the roles you play in all the different aspects of your life at once: mother, father, lover, child.

Elvis’ eyes look up at you from below, with his chin jutting and the innocent expression lighting up his face, he looks ten years younger.  His eyes plead for release, connection, recognition, and his eyebrows are pushed up by desire while his left hand cups your neck. Jerking back, he pushes you off him and down on the bed, pulling out just before he explodes on to your abdomen with a stuttering growl. He pumps himself with his hand one, two, three more times, then exhales loudly as your bodies still. He coughs and grunts again, shaking his head, hands rubbing your sides up and down.

You look up, a dizzy smile on your face. “I’m on the pill, just so ya know…”

“Oh?” Elvis looked down at you, moving to get off the bed, presumably to get you a towel, but you pull him back, instead wiping your self off on the duvet. You push him down on his back, straddling him once more, this time to cuddle on top of him. You lean forward over him and relish the way his chest hair tickles your breasts. He fluffs a pillow as you rest your head over crossed arms and look up in delight at the goofy grin spreading across his face. His neck swells forward, and now his mouth sits above a tower of meaty jowls. His baritone voice reverberates up into your arms.

“Is that cuz you already have a daddy here in Jackson?”

You shake your head. “Nooooo. Just cautious, like you.”

Elvis bows his chin forward. “Yeah, well, I already knew you didn’t have a man, I could tell… I know things,” he grinned, pointing his index finger at his head. 

You lean up, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Yeah… I know…. You’re a seer…. what we just did was definitely a spiritual experience…” You giggle. “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything… anything like that…” you tuck your head into his chest, your fingers tousling the damp, sweaty curls they find. Elvis runs his fingers through your hair absentmindedly.

“Hmmm, s’always better the more you do it together, isn’t it… bodies get used to each other… I’ve… I’ve had some good rolls in the hay, but it’s been a while… boyoboy…” He gently pulls your hair back so you are looking up at him, his profile limned by the soft bedside lamp. “Come back to Memphis with me tomorrow.” 

You purse your lip. “Elvis… I…”

He shakes his head. “Uh uh, I don’t like the sound of that… woman, you just told me you had the best sex of your life. I ain’t asking you to marry me, jus come spend a few days an' have some fun… can’t tell me that store won’t get along with out you?”

You sit up, next to him, crossing your legs on the bed. 

“Elvis, you just met me… this is moving tooo fast..”

“Honey, fast is the only speed I know…”

“Elvis, I can’t go to Memphis with you.”

He pauses, brow furrowed. “This cuz you thought you were going out with THE Elvis Presssley, then ended up with me?”

You grab his shoulders, leaning over him to kiss his face as he turns in a huff, pouting.

“What the fuck are you even talking about? You think I’m disappointed because I got to see you up close? The real you?” You turn his face back to look at you and the hurt in his eyes dissipates. “No baby… no…. Look, I’ve had the best time with you. Ever. I mean it. You are…. Well, ‘m not one for making a fool of myself an tellin’ a man how foxy I think he is… you know you are…” you slap his shoulder. “And you’re actually better than I thought you’d be… you’re funny… and brilliant…. and.. ugh… I stole your belt last night because I wanted to remember this forever …. When I’m with you I… I … feel like a teenager again… all my cares and responsibilities, they melt away. And that’s nice, cuz I had to grow up kinda of early … so feeling free again… its been a dream —”

“Then why don’t you wanna come with me, baby?”

“I do. I want to. But I can’t… I have people who depend on me, people who need me… I’ve been taking over the management of my uncle’s store… I live with my aunt and uncle, they’re in their 60s…” and I have a kid I don’t want to tell you about because this is just fun and I don't want to bring the baggage from my life into this one night - two night  - stand …. “I have to go back to reality tomorrow… or today, depending what time it is?… I guess that doesn’t matter… I have to go back to my life and so … so do you…”

Elvis takes your hand, drawing you into the crook of his arm, his other hand caresses your shoulder, you can see the wheels in his head turning.

“Hmmm… let’s get some sleep, we’ll talk about this in the mornin’… jus promise no sneaking’ out this time without sayin’ good bye?”

You assent with a bow, and he kisses the top of your head, then sits up to take a pill bottle out of the side table drawer. You shake your head no when he offers you some, and watch as he gulps a handful down, no water, and turns off the light. Ten minutes later Elvis’ ragged snores lull you too sleep.

——----------

The room is black when you wake up in a naked embrace with Elvis, your hair matted down from the warm sweat of his chest. The windows are still covered with aluminum, but the bedside clock tells you it's 6 am. You gently lift his arm so you can get up, and as you swing your feet off the bed he sits up with a start, grabbing you from behind.

“Don’t leave me Satnin, don’t leave me in the dark… I can’t be alone in the dark…” his soft voice trembles with fear, and you push back into the pillows, taking Elvis’ head in your lap and sooth his brow, hushing him with a promise that you aren’t leaving, just going to the bathroom. 

Once he falls back to sleep, you get up and, finding your nighty, make your way to the en suite toilet. Looking over at him as you come back, you tip toe out of the bed room to call home and talk to Ruth in the living room. You had snuck off to a phone after the show last night, and had a long, apologetic conversation with Aunt Ida, who was, honestly, too enthusiastic about the fact that you wouldn’t be coming home for the second night in a row. You met someone, girlchik, I told you that you would, she had gushed. You had just been grateful that neither Danny nor Harriet had told their parents whom that someone was. Harriet had stayed over to help, as promised, and was going to open the store today, but you hadn’t had a chance to talk to Ruth. You leave the lights in the living room off, relieved that Joe or one of the other guys is not sitting in the living room to greet you this morning when you make your way to the phone near the pent house kitchen. You sit on a bar stool and have the operator call your house, then ask Ida to put your daughter on the phone.

“Hey baby, you’re not mad at me for staying out with friends?”

You can hear Ruth roll her eyes. “Mom… why would I be mad? You should do this more, Harriet lets me have as much ice cream as I want. For breakfast too.”

“What?”

“Just kidding…” Ruth giggles.

“Ok, good… hey, after today, only three more days of school left til summer?”

“Mhmm, mom, yeah. I know….”

“Ok, ok, I just called to tell you to have a good day at school, and I’ll see you tonight, ok, sweet baby?”

“Ok, love ya mom.” 

Just as Ruth hangs up, you jolt at the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut and turn to see Elvis in a robe, rubbing his eyes with a befuddled expression on his face.

“Sweet baby? Thought you didn’t have a man…. “

Hanging up the phone, you throw your head back and look at the ceiling, then return to meet his gaze.

“I don’t… I wasn’t talking to a man…” you mutter.

Elvis’ brow creases, as he rubs his eyes again. 

“Well then, who were you…..ohhh…” he walks over to you, and sits in the bar stool next to you “How old?”

“9.” You look down.

“You must a been a baby yer self when you had ‘em?”

You just nod, as he takes your hand.

“An that’s why you can’t come to Memphis.” He drops your hand, getting up and pacing back towards the bedroom. 

You stand to follow him, but stop, you can tell he’s upset, but you’re not sure if it’s because he’s mad at you for not telling him you had a kid, or mad because his psychic powers didn’t show him this information, or mad because he’s not going to get what he wants, or mad because he thinks you’re some sort of tramp horrible mother and can’t believe he was attracted to you. Your worst insecurities assume its the latter one, the energy in the room has turned bitter and you want to run out of the door. You fight this, realizing clothes would be good first.

“I should go,” you offer, and he turns, hand on the bridge of his nose as he stands in thought.

“What? No… I mean.. Yes.. honey, do what you gotta do…”

You walk up and kiss Elvis on the cheek, then move to get dressed in the bedroom, finding your old jeans and shirt and converse in the closet. Elvis follows you, and perches at the edge of the large, leather chair watching you dress. He stands to grab something out of his black dress jacket, and pads over to you as you finish tying your shoe. The belt and ring he gave you are on the bed next to where you finish getting dressed, and you aren’t sure if you should leave them. He seems to read your mind.

“Take ‘em… go ahead, I want ya to have ‘em…” Then he hands you a wad of money. “And this too, for all your troubles.” 

You count it, $500. A sinking feeling starts in the pit of your stomach. Whore. You feel like a cheap whore. You crumple up the cash and throw it on top of his things, slap him in the face, and then walk out through the bedroom and leave without looking back.

Elvis rubs his stinging cheek, and turns to follow. No one has ever rejected his gifts. 

“What the devil in tarnation… crazy woman…” he mumbles to himself, still drugged and half dead from the sleeping pills and lack of sleep, his mind and body are moving slow. He hears the front door slam and he jogs after you, sticking his head out of the door to call you back, only to find the hallway empty. All that remains of your presence is the faint sting from your hand still burning his cheek.

taglist:

@woundmetender @powerofelvis @butlervol6 @ab4eva @whositmcwhatsit @richardslady121 @dkayfixates @azzawrites @searchingforgravity @sharebearkk @18lkpeters @elvispresleywife @moonchild-daniella @bisexualwvtson @eliseinmemphis @avengen @father-of-2cats @lillypink @notstefaniepresley @stylespresleyhearted @godlypresley

Read Chapter Three Here

[unluckyuncle]

𓅭 Updated Tag Dump ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

Hey friends! I decided I wanted to completely remake my tags since my old ones are a little bit finicky (and not as fun)

The only thing to note for Indies is that I have a tag to indicate iC things Donald does in the group, vs. when he does things IC in his universe now ^^ mostly relevant to asks, but still

(Thread format: 𓅭...charactername## )

( . aevum ic . ) // aw phooey ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . duck world ic) // life is like a hurricane ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . ooc . ) // quack quack quack ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . psa . ) // putting on life vests ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . answer . ) // uncles advice ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . dash comm . ) // stuck in the pantry ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . crack . ) // twenty-seven ... twenty-seven! ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . meme . ) // oh boy oh boy oh boy ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . musing . ) // i am the storm ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . albums . ) // smile for the camera ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . aesthetics . ) // this is a ship and i am a sailor ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . music . ) // playing the guitar ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . open thread . ) // ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . closed thread . ) // ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . starter call . ) // ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . headcanons . ) // never had the common sense to give up ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . drabble . ) // i've done nothing with my life ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . saving . ) // i was in the will? ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . queue . ) // swimming on in ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . aevum isles . ) // a brand new adventure ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . ducktales . ) // Woo-oo ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . uncle scrooge . ) // no tricks - no lies - no trouble ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . della duck . ) // i missed you too you big dummy ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . donald duck . ) // the unluckiest duck in the world ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . the triplets . ) // stay away from my kids! ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . daisy duck . ) // you can understand me? ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . 3 caballeros . ) // they say we are birds of a feather ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . duck family . ) // adventuring is in our blood ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

[natasha-in-space]

Hi! I noticed that your requests were open and I really love your writings! I was wondering if possible could you do a Jumin and Saeran x reader (separately) Soulmate AU if you can? It’s fine if not but if you do thank you! And I hope you have a good day/night!

So, funny story: this was supposed to be done by the start of this week! Turns out I love the concept of soulmates way more than I originally thought, so I hope you don't mind this being pretty long ':D

Jumin

Soulmate concept: You have a mark of the first letter of your soulmate’s name on your wrist.

Jumin never liked looking at the small single-letter mark that was forever etched onto the underside of his wrist. It's not that it looked weird or unpleasant to him, quite the opposite actually. It was almost frustrating just how perfectly it fit in there, no matter how hard he would try to ignore it. No, the reason why he would always cover his wrists up with long-sleeved business suits was that he absolutely refused to accept the idea of a soulmate. At least, in a traditional sense that his father would explain it to him.

And how could he not? With the way his father would latch onto anybody whose name began with that cursed letter that was embedded onto his wrist, the idea of doing the same was borderline sickening to Jumin. In some ironic sense, by trying to find your soulmate so desperately, you would lose all sense of authenticity in your relationships. It was all about finding that so-called 'the one'.

Why would he care about that? He had Jihyun: his childhood friend of many years with whom he shared countless of precious memories to reminisce about. His memory was so precise, he could write an entire book about their friendship if put his mind to it. He had Rika, before tragically losing her along with everyone else in the RFA. If there really was such a thing as a soulmate, he thought Rika was the closest thing he ever got to it. Her name did not begin with the same letter as the one that could be seen on his wrist... But, he foolishly hoped that her real name would surprise him. Rika was the first woman in his lifetime who saw the tangled mess of threads that he had so meticulously hidden away in the deepest parts of his conscience. She saw it. And, she accepted it.

Of course, Rika was happily engaged to another. His precious best friend, nonetheless. The last thing Jumin would do is ruin the happiness of those few he holds dear. He's not his father. Besides, he has Elizabeth the 3rd. She's all the company he needs at the end of a particularly stressful day. She never judges him, and she would never go somewhere he couldn't find her.

He was fine with his current life.

By the time you came into the picture like a hurricane, Jumin was certain he would go through his entire life without worrying about that mark ever again. Surely it was just a coincidence that your name began with the very same letter as his mark. And, of course, your lovely personality and good heart were the only reasons behind his growing attachment to you the longer you two talked through your first days in their organization. What else could it be? You were a thoughtful and compassionate person. That's all there is to it.

Oh, how mortified he was when he first saw your uncovered wrist with the visible 'J' etched onto it.

You were asleep at the time, looking way too adorable for your own good as you curled into your blankets like Elizabeth the 3rd would often do as well. He didn't mean to look. Truth is, he had no idea what pushed him to gently take hold of your hand and gaze upon your wrist.

There were a lot of things he couldn't understand. And you were in the center of it all. He wanted to understand you. He wanted to understand the strange and captivating effects your every action would have on his conscience. And... most of all, he wanted to understand his own heart.

Maybe it's because, much like Rika once did, you saw the tangled threads of his heart: weaved together so tightly, it was practically impossible to discern where each thread would begin, and where it would end. He stopped trying to untangle them a long time ago. But, you were different from Rika. Ever since you met him face-to-face, you started trying to untangle those threads of his. With every kind word of yours, with every caring touch and patient gaze, you would gently detangle each tiny knot one by one. And, what shook him most of all is that...

It didn't hurt.

Was it really you helping him figure out his own detached heart, or were you just motivating him to search for those answers on his own? Jumin didn't know. All he did know at this very moment, as he stared at that single letter visible on the soft skin of your wrist, is that he felt strangely... hopeful. Just because both of your names fitted the letters of your soulmate marks didn't mean anything... It could be a mere coincidence. And yet, he couldn't logic his way out of this. Not anymore.

"Jumin...?"

He almost jumped as you suddenly opened your eyes and looked up at him with a groggy look crossing over your features. Damn it. He shouldn't have disturbed your sleep like that.

"I apologize." He swiftly let go of your wrist, absent-mindedly rubbing his fingers together without even thinking about it. "I didn't mean to wake you."

You let out a small sleepy groan, slowly sitting up in bed as you let your blanket clumsily fall from your shoulder. He tried his hardest to ignore the unfamiliar warmth in his cheeks as he took in your slightly disheveled appearance and drowsy eyes.

He wanted to touch your hair... Was it soft? It looked soft. Even when it was all messy like that.

"What were you looking at?" You asked, shifting your attention to your wrist. Some part of him wanted to change the subject, but no words came out. When was the last time he found himself so frozen on the spot? You momentarily met his gaze, a sense of understanding flashing through your eyes. Ah, so clever, as always. "Oh... Was it this?"

You caressed your soulmate's mark with the tip of your thumb, a thoughtful hum emitting from your throat. For some reason, this one simple action made his breath get caught in his throat. Before he could even think about it, Jumin reached out with his own hand, gently taking hold of your wrist again. You didn't seem to mind, just raising your eyes back up at his face as he crouched down in front of the guest bed. He let out a breath. "Yes. I just..."

He trailed off, not really knowing what he wanted to say. He decided to change the subject instead.

"...Do you believe in it?"

"In what? Soulmates?" You asked, sounding a bit puzzled as you tilted your head to the side. He drummed his fingertips against your wrist, finding this action to be oddly comforting.

"Yes."

A moment of silence passed, one that felt way longer than it actually was. Finally, you shrugged. "I don't deny it... But, It's not like finding a soulmate is all that matters in life. I'd like to believe that I will find my soulmate, whoever it is, once the time is right. Until then, I will focus on flourishing in my own way."

The smile you gave him made his chest fill up with ticklish warmth. You were truly such an admirable person. He couldn't help but be so very enamored by you. You shone so brightly, both on your own and with other people around you. Your heart was open to the world, but it was strong enough to sustain you independently. You didn't need anyone to be fulfilled, but you knew the importance of meaningful connections, and you cherished every single one of them. In Jumin's eyes, you were perfectly imperfect in that way.

"Do you believe in soulmates, Jumin?" You brought him back from his thoughts with your question, one of your hands now lightly pressing atop of his. Almost like you were testing the waters. He let it stay there.

Still, your question made him suck in a breath and look away, despite his every cell practically screaming at him to keep on looking into your eyes. "...I don't know. I never understood why everyone around me was so obsessed with finding their soulmate. My father would jump at every person whose name would begin with that cursed letter, no matter what it meant for me or anyone in the company. I think... love should be voluntary, not forced on you by some invisible force."

He could see you nodding out of the corner of his eyes. And then, he felt your thumb gently caressing the palm of his hand, this single touch making him shiver. God, what were you doing to him...?

"You have a very good point... But, I don't think a soulmate bond means that you will instantly be head over heels towards each other." You mumbled. Your words made him pause as he mulled over your point of view. Eventually, he turned back to look at you, feeling more comfortable discussing this touchy subject. He wanted to hear your thoughts. Talking to you was always so insightful and comfortable. Another thing he appreciated about you.

"Then... What do you think it means?"

You hummed. "I think... It just means that this person is your perfect match. But, this doesn't mean that just meeting them is all there is to it. You still have to learn and grow together... work on loving and understanding each other one step at a time. Does this even make sense?"

Another long pause followed as he let your words sink in for a moment.

"What if... I was your soulmate?"

Saeran

Soulmate concept: When one soulmate feels pain, the other does too

Your soulmate had to be the saddest person on this entire Earth.

It started out from such an early age, you were sure your parents were deeply concerned for you at the time. For as long as you could remember yourself, you felt it. Your soulmate would get hurt almost every day, and you had no choice but to adapt to it. At first, you were confused, upset, frustrated. And, who could blame you? You were just a kid. You couldn't possibly comprehend what you were feeling or why. You just knew it was bad, and you didn't like it.

At first, you were angry.

While your parents explained to you the concept of soulmates in the simplest way they could to someone so terribly young, you still found it so very unfair. Nobody around you seemed to struggle as much as you did. Maybe one of your playmates would suddenly start crying over an uncomfortable burning in their knee, or a stomachache, but... for you, it was very different. You felt uncomfortable and sickly almost every day. And, you had no choice but to adapt to it, whether you wanted to or not. All you could find solace in was the comforting touch of your parents as they would share a worried look, while you would curl up on their lap, whimpering about feeling so hungry and thirsty, but not actually wanting to eat or drink yourself, because it wasn't your hunger or thirst you were experiencing.

With age, came understanding.

As you grew up, you learned about how the soulmate bond would work in a more complex way than what you thought of it before. You understood that your soulmate was hurting. That they were probably very sad. And unable to do anything to change that. Your anger was replaced by sympathy. How could it be that your soulmate was growing up like this? How can that be fair? Or unchanging for so many years? You found yourself being very careful about getting hurt as you grew up. Your soulmate was already in so much pain... You didn't want them to suffer any more than they already did.

And then, came acceptance.

As years passed by, you learned a certain pattern of sorts. You learn to work around it. You learned to expect it. Your soulmate would get hurt every other week it seemed, although you couldn't really figure out if someone was hitting them, or they just were very unlucky in terms of coordination. In your teen years, something new came. You hated when something new would happen. You couldn't really figure out what it was. It was dizzying and confusing, almost like having a very mild migraine of sorts, but very far from it all the same. You would feel your head get all foggy, your throat tingling like you accidentally swallowed something very hot and spicy, and your stomach would feel achy and uncomfortable for the entirety of that day. You didn't like when that happened. But, it was something new you had to get used to now.

Just when would they finally stop hurting...?

Soulmates would share their pain with each other. It's something that was supposed to bring comfort and solace to those suffering from it. Knowing that, no matter how hard it would get, they were never truly alone. That sentimental concept, however, would shatter completely once you start thinking about other things than just mundane types of pain a perfectly healthy human being would deal with. You knew you were not alone in your predicament. Lots of people shared the similarities of your situation. But... it didn't make it any easier. Of course, you would never be able to feel the direct pain your soulmate was going through. It was just an... uncomfortable dulled out reflection of it.

When your soulmate would get hit, you would feel a sharp jolt in that same area, making you stumble a bit. Sometimes, it would even knock the air out of you, particularly whenever your soulmate would get hit in the chest. Every few months, your scalp would itch uncomfortably, making you huff and curse as you tried to ignore the irritating burning feeling the best you could. It reminded you of that one time you accidentally used too much bleach on your hair in an unfortunate hairstyling accident. You wondered why it reminded you so much of it. Surely your soulmate wouldn't fry their hair off every single time they wanted to dye their hair, right?

With how observant you've grown over the years, it didn't take you long to realize that Ray was, in fact, your soulmate. Actually, you figured it out on the third day of your stay in this place. It was obvious. Your head would ache annoyingly at the same time as him mentioning a migraine, and your fingertips would itch as you saw him nervously biting at his gloved fingers when he thought you weren't looking. That, topped over with the way you felt naturally drawn to him, made it fairly clear what was really going on here. Still, you decided not to bring it up with him.

Not yet, at least.

You cared for Ray, both because of him being your soulmate and because of your genuine affection towards him. Your affection, however, never clouded your logic. You knew that he was hiding something from you, that there was more to this place than he let on. And... you weren't sure how he would react if he found out about your soulmate bond to each other. He seemed rather attached to you... Sometimes, it was sweet and lovely. But, sometimes, it would make your heart ache as you wondered... just what did he have to go through to think so lowly of himself? To grow so desperate for companionship?

Desperation would often lead to rash decisions. Which is exactly why you were being patient. You would tell him, eventually. You just needed him to trust you more, and you wanted to grow to know him on a deeper level. You wouldn't leave his side, of that you were certain.

But... things didn't quite... went according to plan.

Yesterday, you accidentally tripped over the carpet and hit the edge of the bed with your hip quite badly. You wouldn't be surprised to see a huge purple bruise on that very same spot, to be completely honest. Surely, Ray felt that. You felt a bit bad for causing him this discomfort. This is exactly why you were being extra cheerful to him on your walk through the garden today, trying to conceal the way you would occasionally limp once you put your foot in the wrong way. It wasn't painful or anything... but, it was uncomfortable. Sadly, Ray didn't seem to buy it. Or, at least, judging by the worried look in his piercing mint eyes.

He suddenly stopped walking, just staring you down, a whole mix of conflicting emotions swirling in his gaze, making it hard for you to distinguish what is it that he was feeling at this moment. It made you a bit nervous, quite frankly. But, you tried not to make your soft smile falter. "Is something wrong?"

"You're hiding something from me."

You blinked, a bit taken aback by just how blunt he came off. He didn't sound angry or suspicious per se... You couldn't really figure out what he was thinking. You haven't seen Ray like this before. Or, at least... without him trying to hide it. You let out a breath before giving him your reply, picking your words carefully as you did. "What do you mean?"

You could see him pursing his lips, his fingers twitching as he mulled over his thoughts. He seemed a bit frustrated. Like he didn't really know what he wanted to say. It definitely made him look a bit paranoid, and you couldn't blame him. "I just... Please, you must tell me if there's something on your mind. You must. You trust me, right?"

...Did he not know the reason behind his suspicions himself?

"Of course I trust you... Ray, is something bothering you?" You tried a softer approach, hoping to get to the source of this.

He darted his eyes around the garden, not really focusing on anything in particular. Yeah, he was definitely feeling nervous. "I don't... You didn't answer my question. You're not hiding anything from me, are you?"

It seems like both of you were just going in circles. But, what else could you say? You were starting to feel a bit confused yourself. What was this about, exactly?

"Not that I know of... Say, how about we talk about this back in my room? Maybe we'll figure something out. I don't like seeing you so nervous."

You didn't mention the fact that there would be fewer ears listening in on your conversation in there. Either way, he seemed to consider your suggestion before nodding and offering you his glowed hand, which you quickly took.

"...Yes, that sounds wonderful. Thank you, Y/N." He gave you a small but genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat for a moment. He looked so pretty when he smiled...

But, as your thoughts drifted somewhere far away, centered only around Ray's delicate facial features, you completely forgot about your hip. One clumsy step and you instinctively winced, quickly placing your foot into a different position. This, however, made Ray freeze again, his hold on your hand tightening. You didn't know whether it was due to him automatically trying to hold onto you in case you would trip, or... Well, the other option concerning that special bond of yours.

"...Are you hurt?"

This time, it was your turn to avert your gaze. You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. "Ah, it's... it's nothing. Just a bruise."

"A bruise?"

Oh, God, he sounded rather... intense. You didn't know how to respond to that. You felt him take a step closer, your breath getting caught up in your throat as he did. "Where is it?"

...Should you tell him? That didn't sound like a question, more like a demand. You hesitated, unsure whether or not you should just make up some excuse. Was this really the right time to reveal that you were, in fact, his soulmate? You didn't know. You weren't ready for this turn of events at all.

"I, uh... It's nothing. I just tripped over the carpet yesterday. It's not serious, I'm just a bit sore." That was vague enough, but truthful nonetheless. You hoped your answer would suffice. Judging by the deeply troubled look on Ray's face, your hopes wouldn't be met.

Geez, he was acting like you broke your leg or something!

"Let me see." His grip on your hand tightened again as he took yet another step closer, bringing your bodies together in a way that was definitely beyond just colleagues or friends hanging out. You gulped. Again, he didn't sound angry, but... firm. A side of him you were not used to whatsoever. Still, strangely enough, it made your cheeks burn. Especially when you remembered where this bruise was exactly.

"N-no..." You shook your head, averting your gaze from him nervously. Well, there's no winning this. You'll just have to come clean. You certainly did not want Ray to get even more paranoid than he already was. "It's... It's on my hip, alright? So, it'll be... a bit embarrassing to show you, if you know what I mean."

A choked gasp was all you heard, his fingers quivering where they grasped onto your hand. Did he figure it out? You were too anxious to ask.

"Your... Your hip? You said you... you got this bruise yesterday?" He muttered, sounding both nervous and hopeful at the same time. He gently nudged you a bit closer, tilting his head to presumably take a look at your eyes. "Please... Please look at me, okay, Y/N? This is... This is important."

Of course it was important. You swallowed, feeling your heart picking up the pace as you did turn to meet his gaze. Honestly, it made your knees feel weak with just how many emotions he was looking at you. He looked like he was about to cry or laugh, or faint, and you were not sure which one of these options he would take.

You decided to just be upfront about it now. "...Did you feel it?"

His eyes widened, another strangled breath falling from his lips as he began to tremble, overwhelmed with so many different emotions. You didn't have to spell it out to him. It was obvious. This time, it was your turn to hold onto him. You had no idea what would happen after you utter those words... But, you knew there was no way around it. You were meant to meet one another. You were determined to see it through, no matter what secrets this boy kept hidden in his heart.

"You're my soulmate, Ray."

[venti-venus]

a momentary peace - c. s. x reader

a/n: i feel like i kinda left this open for a part two? let me know what you guys think !

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the tranquil lake. Y/N sat on the weathered wooden dock, her gaze fixed on the water's reflection. The gentle ripples mirrored the complexities of her thoughts, and she couldn't shake the emotions swirling within her.

Coriolanus Snow, a name that echoed through the Capitol's corridors of power, sat down beside her. His soft blond hair gleamed in the fading sunlight, and his sharp, calculating eyes observed the world with a detached intensity. Y/N couldn't deny the allure of his charisma, the way his presence commanded attention.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Her fiancé sighed as he sat down, leaving a comfortable space between the two of them. He looked over at her, offering a soft smile.

Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving the water. "Yes, it is. The calm before the storm, they say."

Coriolanus chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down her spine. "The storm is always brewing in the Capitol, my dear. I expect it to be an absolute hurricane by the time our wedding day arrives."

As they sat in a companionable silence, Y/N couldn't help but recall the first time she met Coriolanus Snow. A chance encounter at a Capitol gala had sparked a connection neither of them could deny. There was something enigmatic about him, a darkness that intrigued her rather than frightened her away. A part of her wondered if that was a mistake.

"Before we're to be wed," Coriolanus broke the silence between them, "I'd like to get to know you better. If you don't mind, that is."

As much as Y/N liked to believe the two of them were getting married out of love, she often ignored the fact that they had only met a month ago. Romanticizing had become a hobby, as this was purely a marriage of convince for Coriolanus. Another mark off the future president's checklist.

"What would you like to know?" Y/N traced her fingers absentmindedly, trailing the surface of the water.

Coriolanus looked down at his fiancé with a knitted brow. "What drives you? The world is cold and harsh, Y/N. How do you keep going?"

Y/N inhaled. "Well, I suppose it's the belief that there's more to life than the struggle for power and prestige that keeps me afloat. I find solace in the simple moments, in the connections we forge with others."

Coriolanus arched an eyebrow, intrigued by her response. "Connections?" he echoed, the word tasting foreign on his tongue.

"Yes," Y/N nodded, her expression softening with emotion. "The bonds we share with those who understand us, who see us for who we truly are. It's in those moments that I find meaning."

A flicker of something unreadable passed through Coriolanus's eyes before he masked it with his usual composure. "Meaning," he mused, as if testing the word for himself. "A noble pursuit, indeed."

Their conversation lingered in the air, a delicate thread weaving between them. In that brief exchange, Coriolanus glimpsed a side of Y/N he hadn't expected, a depth of character that intrigued him more than he cared to admit. And as they sat by the lake, the gap between them narrowed ever so slightly, a tentative bridge forged by shared words and silent understanding.

This would be the last time Y/N would know peace.

[mercerislandbooks]

Book Notes: Fantasy Roundup

Or, some ideas for what to read when you have a book hangover from Iron Flame:

Curious Tides by Pascale Lacelle

When Emory is the sole survivor of a secret ritual in the caves below Aldryn College, her healer powers, given to those born during the new moon on a rising tide, begin to shift into something strange and uncontrollable. Will her estranged friend Baz, brother to one of the students who died, help Emory figure out her new powers and what really happened that night? This debut fantasy has it all — dark academia, an upper YA that crosses over beautifully into adult, a murder mystery, secret societies, forbidden magic, a pining romance and the most gorgeous book design I’ve seen in a while. The magic system is built around the moon phases and the tides. Curious Tides is book one of a planned duology.

The Hurricane Wars by Thea Guanzon

What happens when Talasyn and Alaric, two soldiers from opposite sides of an entrenched war meet on the battlefield and discover their opposing powers combine to create something entirely new and unexpected? They continue to absolutely hate each other while having to work together to save their people from an even worse fate. Of course. And we all know what happens when two attractive people hate each other. Drawing inspiration from Southeast Asia, debut Filipino author Thea Guanzon has penned a fun, fresh fantasy that balances an authentic depiction of the toll of conflict on a population with a strong cast of characters and all the political machinations of Machiavelli. The Hurricane Wars is book one of a planned trilogy.

Godkiller by Hannah Kane

In a world where gods, fed by the attention, prayers, and offerings of humans, can also be destroyed by them, three disparate people come together to travel to the ruined city that was the last stand in the wars between gods and people. Kissen, a godkiller for hire. Elo, a former knight turned baker. And Inara, a young girl whose life has become intertwined with a god of white lies, Skedi. The four travel together to Blenraden, hopeful that they will find a way to untangle Skedi from Inara. All the feels of quest fantasy with characters that are delightfully flawed and human. The world building was immersive and queer normative with a host of diverse characters. The religious and magic system was at once familiar but with enough twists to make it unexpected. Godkiller is book one of a planned trilogy.

The Fragile Threads of Power by V.E. Schwab

From page one of The Fragile Threads of Power, I was invested all over again in the world of the four Londons, seven years after the events from The Shades of Magic trilogy (also excellent, if you want to start there). The plot works together like interchanging gears, or a chess game, the movement of each character affecting the others, often unknowingly. There are characters from the original trilogy, new additions, and Tes, the one who, unconsciously, holds the key to everything. Schwab investigates power in this novel -- who has it and who controls it, and by whose standards its morality is judged. Schwab puts a lot of things in motion in this book, and only a few are resolved by the end. The Fragile Threads of Power is book one of planned trilogy. You can always go back and read The Shades of Magic series in the meantime!

What the River Knows by Isabel Ibañez

I can’t think of a more fun combination than 1880’s Egyptian archeological digs, a feisty heroine determined to find out what happened to her explorer parents, and a current of magic running through it all. When Inez Olivera hears that her parents, on a dig in Egypt, are presumed dead, she takes matters into her own hands. Inez books passage from Bolivia to Egypt, intent on discovering the truth. What she finds in Egypt is an infuriatingly handsome young man, assisting her guardian in carrying on her parents discoveries, and men thwarting her inquiries at every turn. Add to this a mysterious ring that connects Inez to the magic of the past and the questions continue to pile up. It will take a trip up the Nile and many near escapes just to get Inez closer to any answers. Packed with action, a slow burn romance, and a huge twist kept me enthralled to the very last page. What the River Knows is book one of a planned YA duology.

Hopefully you find one, or many, of these titles to be a satisfying read!

— Lori

[newtonsheffield]

I have to admit, I was one of those that never voted for “Mile High,” but boy, oh, boy, did I miss the mark! This might be my favorite Anthony and that’s saying a lot after “Bruises” and “If the shoe fits…” I just love this compulsive, overthinking with a side of self doubt Anthony. He’s SO endearing💞I can relate to him. And, isn’t this what we’re all after, someone like Kate (whether via friendship, love or both)to come along and love us not in spite of, but because of our quirks & insecurities! The imperfections that make us perfect for those special somebody’s❣️

I’m so glad it’s winning you over!

It wasn’t a super popular idea, I know that, but I think there’s definitely something very human about this Kate and Anthony. Kate’s entire life’s been turned upside down after leaving the RAF and she’s just trying to find her feet and Anthony’s struggling with the fact that after the accident where his father died, he can’t control everything.

They’re both exactly what the other needs. Kate’s like a fucking hurricane, upsetting the delicate balance of Anthony’s entire life. She never puts her things away. She always leaves her coffee mug on the left side of the bed (That he tries not to think of as her side). Her bras are always just thrown off and she never neatly hangs up her pyjamas. It’s infuriating. And yet, it’s the darndest thing. When he pinches the bridge of her nose as he looks at her suitcase, felt open, shoes and stockings and toiletries strewn all over the floor she has the neatest way of getting him not to care about it at all. Or barely.

Anthony felt his teeth clench as he got out of bed, trying to calm himself as he tripped over one of her shoes. It was too early in the defined era of their relationship for this. He was sure.

“Kate, babe?” He swallowed as his girlfriend let out a groan from the bed, still face down under the blanket, her curls strewn over the pillow. He took that as a sign to move forward. “I’m a little curious about something?”

Kate rolled over, sitting up, a slow smile making it’s way onto her face. “Yes, I do have a tiny history of gymnastics. That’s why I’m so flexible.”

Anthony flushed a he tugged his underwear on, unfolding them neatly from his own case with a flourish. “I just wondered if you had any allergies.”

Kate shook her head, wiggling her eyebrows at him. “You’re cute when you blush but My my anthony, what do you want to do to me next?”

Anthony sighed, putting his hands on his hips. “Excellent. So you’re not allergic to picking up your clothes?! I mean, Jesus! You were in the military.”

Kate laughed, the delighted sound of it making his spine shiver as she tugged him back down to the bed. She threaded her fingers through his hair and pressed his face to her bare skin, holding him there. “Do you accept my apology, Anthony? Or do I need to get down on my knees?”

Anthony breathed deeply against her skin, the stress seeping out of his body. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to the second thing but I do feel a lot better.”

Kate checked the watch she’d left on the bloody floor instead of the bedside table like a reasonable person. “Well lucky for you I have fifteen minutes before I absolutely need to get dressed. Pants off, Ant.”

And on the other hand, Anthony manages to infuse enough order into Kate’s life that it doesn’t completely implode.

“Hold on just a fucking second.” Sophie gasped as Kate walked through the door of the bar exactly when they’d agreed to meet.

Edwina reached out, snatching Kate’s wrist up and staring at the Breitling watch that had once been their father’s. “Kate, Holy fuck, do you know what time it is?!”

Kate rolled her eyes but bowed as she accepted their mocking round of applause. “Anthony keeps our calendar now. And he even scheduled in 25 minutes of oral sex before I left.”

“Gross.”

“You’re fucking disgusting.”

“Your boos fuel me.” Kate smirked, snatching Edwina’s Margherita up, “He might be tightly wound but I love the fuck out of that man.”

Opposites really do attract.

[the-adventures-of-lydia-brown]

Fragment no. 1

~Have you ever tried to capture a likeness?~

It is a remarkably difficult task, whatever medium it is done in. You can spill thousands of words or set a thousand strokes on a canvas and still you might not even come close to flawless portrayal.

And if you are one of those lucky few in whom a keen eye for detail unites with a sense for overall composition, in whom a passionate heart unites will a steady hand or with a clear, discerning mind full of sharp and unforgiving wit, in whom years and years of practice honed every skill to needlepoint precision, your true and accurate work will still lie - by omission.

As a certain painter once wrote,

Ceci n'est pas une pipe.(1)

Sometimes, our medium simply doesn't allow us to capture it all - and sometimes, it is our own perception. Have you ever looked at the Moon from the other side?

But at least in these cases the original indubitably exists and is its own perfect image. But what about cases where your subject itself is half mist?

If you aren't careful, you might completely twist what fragile structure it has. Some might pride themselves on such things. "Behold," they say, "I found a seed of a world in my mind this morning, and I immediately set off to work. Before dinner, I added another stunted Yggdrasil to my bonsai garden. Look, most of its branches are even completely solid! I had to twist a bit here and there to make it happen, of course, but look at its perfect, chiseled, eternal form. None of it reaches beyond the limits of comprehension."

Some prefer to work as an archaeologist does, taking away spoonful after spoonful of sand, gently brushing away what remains until they find the form they were seeking.

Some simply collect the things they do not want to fall to namelessness. And some -

Some take the fragile, vague, yet already manifested things, or those that once were and are rotting away, or those that have started and may yet continue and equip them with supports, crutches, scaffolding of all manner that they may not be crushed by their own weight.

It is a fool's errand. None can predict the ends to which their actions might lead.

But that, too, is a part of life.

A butterfly pinned in an entomologist's collection might grant you a better view of its colours and patterns, but that butterfly can not unwittingly cause a hurricane at the other end of the world with a flap of its wings (2). Maybe, the key is to try to preserve both the living, unpredictable and blurry and the still, comprehensible and clear - even though being layered atop each other may not exactly help with comprehensibility. After all, they can always shift into more comfortable positions if you leave them some room for that.

It is difficult work, one that requires commitment, to pull things out of the vague mist of possibility completely - and it might never be finished.

But still...

To keep, to restore, to inscribe upon the air with your voice the name of what you wish to preserve;

To spin and weave threads of thin air and wild fabrication and somehow reveal a little truth (3);

There is some honour to be found in both of these things.

Once upon a time, both were done by singers (4).

Perhaps, that custom never should have stopped.