#The Pocket Memphis

[blackmensuited]

[closingremarks]

[justagalwhowrites]

Stranger in a Bar - Part Two

You realize your hookup from the night before is your dad's best friend. Life goes on from there. The conclusion of Stranger in a Bar, found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: This is smut, OK? Just a lot of smut. Protected P in V sex. Oral sex (f receiving). Age gap of 20 years. Breeding kink if you squint. Talk of pregnancy. ANGST BECAUSE IT'S ME. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 10.6k

AO3 | Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | Part One

“She hasn’t been home in so long,” your father was smiling proudly, seemingly oblivious to the way Joel was looking at you. 

It had never occurred to him that he’d never seen a picture of his friend’s daughter. He’d heard about you, of course. How your parents had gone to Tennessee for your college graduation, how you’d gotten a job in Memphis, how you only really came to visit about once a year and that meant your dad was busy that week. 

“Heard a lot about you,” Joel said when he realized your dad had gone quiet. “Good to… put a face to the name. Or, maybe, idea? Don’t think your dad ever mentioned your name…” 

“May not have,” he laughed, clapping Joel on the shoulder. Joel still couldn’t take his eyes off you. Fuck, this was bad. “To me, she’s just my little princess…” 

“Honey,” your mom appeared at your dad’s side, looping her arm through his. “Can I steal you for just a minute?” 

“Sure,” he gave her hand a squeeze before looking between you and Joel. “Keep her outta trouble, will ya? Have fun!” 

Joel more sensed them leave than watched them, his eyes locked on yours. He was pretty sure they were out of earshot when you spoke. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“‘Fraid not,” Joel said, his eyes drifting down over your body before he could really help himself. Your dress fit you perfectly, highlighting your every soft curve. He knew just what you looked like below it, just how smooth your skin was, just how you would taste. “You look… fuck, you look gorgeous.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. 

“Are you…” You closed your eyes and shook your head. “Never mind. This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening.” 

“It’s not…” he finally managed to look away from you to glance around at the people around the two of you. None of them seemed to be paying attention. He lowered his voice, anyway. “It’s not that bad…” 

“Not that bad?” You cut him off. “Are you… Jesus, come on.” 

You looked around, too, before grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the tent and toward the house. He just trailed along behind you, fighting the urge to smile while keeping an eye out for your parents. Because the last thing he wanted to do was explain to your father what he was doing, following wherever you led. 

And he did follow you - happily - into the house he’d been in plenty of times as a dinner guest or for Super Bowl parties or to help your father put together a new piece of furniture for your mother. You dragged him along to the sizable storage room off the garage and locked the door behind you before turning and staring daggers at him. 

“Not that bad?” You asked, brows raised so high they threatened to disappear into your hairline. “Not that bad? You’re my dad’s best friend! I didn’t even know he had one of those until this afternoon and I -” you looked around, as though someone might have been lurking, and lowered your voice to a harsh whisper “fucked him before I knew he existed! How is this not that bad?” 

“You in the habit of telling your daddy everyone you sleep with?” Joel asked, hands in his pockets. “Because I ain’t one to kiss and tell.”

“This is a joke to you, isn’t it,” you crossed your arms, clearly pissed. But the effect was lessened a bit by the way your angry pants and fierce stance made your breasts swell and fuck, but you were pretty. “What, you make a habit of fucking women young enough to be your friend’s daughter?” 

“No,” Joel said with a shrug. “Don’t make a habit of fucking anyone, really. Told you, I’m outta practice. And… well, can’t say I’ve ever… well…” 

“Ever?” Your eyebrows somehow got higher. 

“Ever been with someone as young as you,” he said, his cheeks getting hot at the shame of that. “Didn’t set out to, either. Not until I saw you.”

You relaxed a little then, your brows returning to a much more natural position on your face. 

“I didn’t go to that bar looking for someone,” he continued. “And I sure as shit never go chasing after women half my age. Sure as shit ain’t proud I did it last night, either. But… can’t say I really care much about any of that. I don’t care that you’re too young for me, don’t care that you live hundreds of miles away, don’t even care that you’re my best friend’s kid. Lord knows I should care about all that but I don’t. All I really care about in all that is you.” 

Your eyes searched his for a moment, like you were trying to tell if he was lying or not. You stepped closer to him and he resisted the urge to touch you, the pull stronger than he remembered it being in the past. He wasn’t sure if it was because it had been years since he’d been with someone, if it was because he could tell from the first moment he saw you that you were special, if it was because sex with you was the best he’d ever had. But, he supposed, it didn’t really matter. Not when you were this close, in that dress, when he could still remember how you tasted on his tongue. He knew he should give a shit, he knew he should at least do your father the courtesy of feeling bad but all he could feel was the drive to touch you - taste you - again.

You held his gaze until your lips were so close to his your noses brushed and he kissed you then, your mouth so plush and soft on his. 

It had been so long since Joel had done anything like this. He hadn’t exactly dated much when his daughter was at home. He tried, a bit, when she was in her teens but he ended up wishing he was spending time with her instead of trying to get to know someone he only had a passing interest in. 

When Sarah moved out to go to college - not community college anymore but Texas A&M - he didn’t have the same excuse anymore. But, when he tried to meet someone then, he found himself trying to force connections with women. They had little in common with him, they wanted different things out of life, they were just interested in things he couldn’t offer. After a few, unsatisfying and brief relationships - if you could even call them that - he’d given up on it. His life was meant to be quiet and lonely. He had Sarah and that was more than enough, even if she lived in Dallas now. He was fine with it. Happy, even. 

And then, there you were, so beautiful in that bar, something about you pulling him in. He couldn’t help but go up to you, couldn’t help but talk to you for hours, couldn’t help but walk you back to your hotel, couldn’t help but kiss you back in that elevator. 

He couldn’t help but kiss you now. 

His hands went to your waist, slipping over your sides to your back, spreading wide over you to hold as much of you as he could, pulling your body against his own. You moaned softly into his mouth and put your arms around his neck when he did and he could feel every line of you against him, could remember just what those lines felt like when there was nothing between you. 

If he was in his own head enough, he would have been embarrassed about just how fast he got hard against you, embarrassed about how quickly he gave in to the urge to grind his cock into you while remembering just what it felt like to be buried inside of you. But he couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck about anything beyond just how good you felt pressed all tight and desperate against him. 

He guided you back until your ass was against a stack of plastic storage tubs, bins labeled with things like “Christmas” and “Halloween” that he’d helped your dad haul into the living room when your mom was ready to change the decor around the house. Your hands left him for a moment and you pulled yourself on top of the top bin, putting your hips at the same height as Joel’s own. You spread your legs wide and pulled him into you, grinding your pussy against his cock through his jeans and he had to fight not to come then and there. Your arms went back around his neck and your kiss grew messy, the both of you fighting to devour the other. Joel’s mouth slid over your lips to your chin, down your jaw to your throat and you moaned, arching your back. His hands moved to your thighs, forcing your skirt up and out of the way until your slick-soaked panties were pressed against his fly. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted softly, grinding that hot little pussy over his still clothed length. His hands skimmed over your sides to find your breasts, cupping the full, soft warmth of you there. Your fingers sank into his back, nails digging into him. “Please…” 

“Not a good idea,” he said, kissing back up your neck, leaving his mouth against the tender skin at the base of your ear. “Don’t got a condom.” 

He nipped your lobe and kissed over your cheek toward your mouth again. 

“I don’t care,” you said, breathless. “I don’t care, I just need you, fuck, please, please…” 

He groaned. He should resist you. He should, he knew better. But the way you tasted, the way you felt against him, just the thought of being inside you with nothing between you and him was making his head swim. 

“Don’t think I’ll be able to pull out, baby,” he said, kissing you all wet and sloppy and without control. “You felt too damn good with somethin’ on, I can’t…” 

“I don’t care,” you said again, pulling back from him just enough to look in his eyes, reaching your hand up to card your fingers through his graying hair. Your skin was almost glowing in the dim light, your eyes ranging over him, pupils blown. “I want you, please, Joel.” 

“Jesus,” he breathed, reaching quickly down to unbuckle his belt and open his pants. He pulled his cock free, his head swollen and leaking. He stroked himself - not that it offered any relief and it wasn’t possible to make him any harder - with one hand and watched with hungry eyes as he traced the the seam of you through your wet panties with the other, the fabric clinging to the plush softness of you. He couldn’t help but groan a little as he tucked the cotton to the side, revealing you all plump and dripping for him. 

He watched, his breath shaky, as he moved closer, trailing his cock head over your slit before slipping just inside your entrance. He just stood there for a moment, his heart beating out a frantic rhythm against his ribs, looking at where he was starting to disappear into you and he was mesmerized by it. The way you had to stretch to take even just the head of him, the way you took him so well anyway, the way you felt inside, the heat of you on his skin. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, your hand clutching onto his bicep, his shirt twisting in your fingers. 

“Baby,” his voice was rough, raspy. He’d be embarrassed about how needy he sounded if he could bring himself to give a shit about anything but how you felt inside. “Fuck, you already feel fuckin’ incredible and I’m not even really inside you yet…” 

He finally pulled his eyes away from where the two of you met to find your face, your eyes so wide and pleading. He took you in his hand, his thumb on your cheek, your fingers reaching back to grip tight to your neck, holding you just so. You stretched to kiss him but he kept you in place, your eyebrows drawing together as you moaned in protest. 

“Gotta be quiet, pretty girl,” he whispered. “And sit still, just let me look at you.” 

He watched you closely as pressed into you, your breath hitching as he parted your inner walls, your tight, wet heat gripping him and he savored every needy expression that crossed your face. You were so beautiful like this, your mouth open in a silent gasp, eyes wide, looking like you were enjoying him almost as much as he was enjoying you. 

Because there was no possible way it could be equal, there was no way he felt as good as you did. You’d felt fucking exquisite with a condom on the night before, it had only taken Joel a second inside you to decide that this could not be a one time thing. He couldn’t feel something that good only once in his life, he’d spend the rest of his years searching for it otherwise. It was the cherry on top of the perfection that seemed to be you, someone he wanted to spend hours upon hours talking with and hours upon hours looking at. The way your body took him into yourself, the way you pulsed around him when you came, the way you were so goddamn soft inside. How was he supposed to just walk away from that? 

But, as Joel’s cock was buried inside you to the root, he realized that nothing - absolutely fucking nothing - compared to being inside you bare. He could feel you so clearly like this, every ridge of muscle, every little gush of come as you made a mess of his cock. You were so fucking tight he wondered how he’d even fit inside you. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt anything quite as warm and soft as you and he knew he’d never felt quite so close to anyone like he did you in that moment. 

“Goddamn baby,” he breathed, his eyes locked on yours, not moving from his place inside you. 

“Joel,” you whispered before looking down to where your bodies where joined and groaning when you did. 

“Gotta stay quiet, pretty girl,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around you, his hand splaying wide over the small of your back. He held you in place and ground himself deeper into you, making you whimper. 

“Fuck me,” you panted, desperate. “Please Joel, I need you to move, I need you to fuck me, please…” 

He crumbled under your pleas, pulling back from you agonizingly slowly so that he could feel every part of you clinging to him before thrusting back inside you in one devastating go. You moaned as he did, loud enough that he was worried someone might hear. He kissed you to keep you quiet and your arms went around his neck, your fingers digging into him as you clung to him. But he couldn’t keep kissing you forever, not when the drive to fuck you harder was so strong, and he had to separate from you to gasp for breath as his cock plunged into you again and again. You moaned, desperate and needy and uncontrolled and Joel couldn’t even consider stopping to keep you quiet. Instead, he pulled you tight to him, tucking your head against his shoulder so your sounds were muffled by his body. 

“Said you gotta keep quiet baby,” he whispered in your ear, fucking into you. “Fuck… you feel too damn good, won’t be able to stop just because someone comes in.” 

Your muffled moans grew louder and you clutched onto him and he held you closer, tighter, the sharp snap of his hips never slowing or even stuttering. He felt like a man possessed as he savored the hot clutch of you. He’d never needed to fuck someone like this, never wanted to live inside another person like this. How was he supposed to move on from this, from you? When he’d never found anything that made him feel like this, so obsessed he couldn’t keep himself from fucking you hard and fast and unprotected under your father’s roof. 

His orgasm was building fast, faster than he really wanted it to. There was the nagging thought at the back of his mind - the last part of him that seemed to exist outside the sphere of your influence - that he should pull out at the very least. He didn’t know if you were on the pill but part of him didn’t fucking care. Part of him wanted to fill you up and take everything that came with it, as long as he got to keep coming in you again and again the rest of it didn’t matter. 

You started mumbling into his shoulder, your words incoherent around the fabric of his shirt and the bulk of his body and he pulled your head back just enough that he could make out what you were saying, just “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come” over and over and over and the sound went straight to his cock. 

He felt it then, you drawing so tight around him, the sensation intimately familiar after the night before, and then you exploded around him, throbbing hard and full, damn near pulling his own orgasm out of his body as he groaned against you. He didn’t do the smart thing, he didn’t pull out. Instead, he reveled in the feeling as he came deep inside you, buried to the root . 

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted against him as your climax eased, sounding closer to sane now than you had the last few minutes. 

“I know, baby,” he said, breathless too, still deep within you. You pulled back from him ever so slightly, your eyes wide as they searched his face, your lipstick smeared over your skin. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you said again, but different this time, an edge of panic in your voice. You put your hand to his chest, leaning back from him and looking down to where you were still joined. “What the fuck did we just do?” 

“Nothin’ bad…” he said quietly but you looked back to him, your gaze fiery now. He pulled out of you slowly, reluctantly, and tucked himself away. 

“Nothing bad?” You asked, brows raised. “We just fucked in my parents’ house! I barely fucking know you and you just… I just begged you to… Jesus Christ…” 

Joel winced at that. 

“I can go get you one of those pills…” he said weakly. He hoped that was the right thing to say in a moment like this one. He hadn’t been in this position in so long, he wasn’t the type to just randomly fuck a woman and he sure as hell wasn’t the type to do so with no regard for the consequences. He’d learned that lesson well enough in his youth. Here he was, middle aged and fucking you like some teenager in heat, sneaking around behind your parents’ backs.

“What?” You shook your head once, sharply, like you were trying to shake him from your mind. “No, I have an IUD, but I don’t know you, you could have… I don’t fucking know, herpes or something!” 

Joel almost laughed. Not that anything about this was actually funny but it was… something. 

“I don’t got anything like that,” Joel said. “You’re safe, promise.” 

You looked to jump down from your perch on the storage bins but slipped a hand down between your legs first and groaned before looking around. 

“Do you see any paper towel or anything?” You asked, holding your hand covered in his come and yours in front of you, your combined slick pearly on your fingers. 

Joel swallowed. 

“No,” he said. “But… here…” 

He untucked his shirt and nudged your legs wider apart, forcing your dress further up your thighs, revealing your slit to him. He resisted the urge to groan at the sight, his spend leaking from you because he’d left it deep inside… 

He shook himself mentally and took the hem of his button down shirt, pressing it to your dripping hole, cleaning you gently. You leaned back on your hands and he could feel your eyes on him as he delicately ran the fabric over your soft skin. He was about to step back when he heard you moan, needy and wanting, and he realized he could see your clit, swollen and peeking out from your wet sex. 

“Fuck,” you breathed and he looked up to your face. Your eyes were closed, your mouth open in pleasure. 

“You like that?” He asked, his voice heavier than he’d meant it to be. Fuck, he shouldn’t be doing this. But you nodded, quick and desperate, and he couldn’t resist. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.” 

He knelt in front of you, looping his arms around your knees and pulling you sharply to the front edge of the storage bin before licking a hesitant stripe from your entrance to your sensitive nub. You groaned at that and he saw your fingers curl around the edge of the bin, knuckles tight. 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you panted and he smiled a little before diving into your pussy like a man starved. 

He licked and sucked and ate at you, his tongue delving into your tight channel, his nose pressed against your swollen clit, his fingers pressing tightly into the meat of your thighs. Your hand flew to his hair, knotting and tangling in his curls, your nails digging into his scalp as you ground your hips against his face. You were moaning louder and he knew he should give a fuck, try to keep you quiet while he worked you to yet another orgasm in your father’s house, but he just didn’t care. All he cared about was making you come so hard you damn near took off his tongue. 

He didn’t need to wait long, your pussy growing tighter and tighter until you cried out, your hips pressed against him and he savored the way your body clutched onto him as you came. Your channel pulsed hard and strong and he drank down your slick, not caring that it mingled with his own come from just a few minutes before. 

Joel waited until your climax eased before he pulled his tongue from your body, pressing a lingering kiss over the top of your slit, making you groan. 

“Holy shit,” you panted and he got to his feet in front of you, wiping his mouth awkwardly with the back of his wrist. 

“Sorry,” he said, glancing quickly at your still slightly swollen sex. It was no longer dripping, at least. “That… that ain’t what I’d set out to do…” 

“Never apologize for that,” you said, sitting up properly this time. You slipped off the storage bin. You rearranged your underwear below your dress before adjusting the hem, looking down at yourself like you were trying to make sure you didn’t look like you’d just been fucked within an inch of your life. 

“Here,” Joel said, thankful that his shirt was black so your lipstick that was undoubtably on his shoulder wouldn’t show. He took the cuff that hadn’t wiped your slick from his face and carefully cleaned your smeared lipstick from your skin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to do that, either…” 

“It’s not your fault,” you said, crossing your arms and looking him up and down. “I was literally begging for it. There’s just something about you… but that’s why we can’t do this, Joel. You’re my dad’s best friend, he’d never forgive us for this. We have to pretend like this never happened. Not tonight, not last night, none of it.” 

He just watched you for a moment. Part of him knew you were right. You were right for more reasons than just that, too. He hadn’t really dated in years, he hadn’t been in a good place to do it in ages and he sure as hell wasn’t in a place to date someone as young as you. You’d want things out of life that he was long past, things he could never give you. He should know better than this. 

But that didn’t change the fact that he wanted you. He wanted to fuck you again, yeah, but he also wanted to get to know you, to make you dinner and take you to the beach and kiss you at midnight on New Year’s Eve. You’d woken something up in him that he didn’t know he still had, something he thought had died along with his youth years before. Wasn’t something like you worth risking a friendship for? Even one like the one he had with your father? 

“We have to stay away from each other the rest of the night,” you said. “Alright?” 

He looked at you for a moment, at the drawn expression on your face. 

“Yeah,” he said after the silence hung in the air a bit too long. “Yeah, alright.” 

The two of you made your way back toward the celebration, thankfully no one in the house to have heard the sounds he pulled form you, anyway. Joel tried not to stare at you the rest of the night but he found himself keenly aware of where you were all the time, anyway. He knew where you were and who you were with and just how far he’d have to move to pull you into his arms and kiss you. 

“Joel!” His friend clapped him on the shoulder as he sat at a table, drinking a beer and trying to not pay attention to where you were - something he was failing at because, at the moment, you were standing by your mother and your sister near the buffet. “Havin’ a nice time?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Joel cleared his throat awkwardly as he sat beside him. “It’s a great party. Y’all deserve it, too, hell of an accomplishment, puttin’ up with each other that long…” 

“Tell me about it,” he laughed. “God, sometimes… See you didn’t bring a date, was hopin’ you’d be out on the dance floor with some lucky lady at least a little bit.” 

“Yeah, well,” Joel shrugged. “Don’t really got anyone to bring to someone like this and…” 

“Still,” he cut Joel off. “Should get out there… Princess! C’mere!” 

He raised his hand and flagged you down and Joel stiffened. Your eyes darted from his to your father’s before you made your way across the tent, your hands in fists at your sides. 

“You really don’t need to…” Joel began but your father cut him off again. 

“S’no trouble,” he said. “It’ll be good for her, too. Tells her mama everything, hasn’t had a boyfriend in who knows how long, she needs to do a little dancing…” 

“Yes, Dad?” You asked, steadfastly ignoring Joel. 

“Do me a favor, Princess, and get this old man on the dance floor, would ya?” He clapped Joel on the back. “He’s been sittin’ here alone way too long, think he needs a little nudge…” 

“Oh, I… I don’t,” you began. 

“Really don’t need…” Joel said. 

“Nonsense!” Your dad said. “C’mon! You two - two of my favorite people - have been sittin’ off to the sides of this shindig all night. Make me happy, get out there for me.” 

You looked at Joel half pleading, half resigned. 

“Yeah, alright,” Joel said, getting up and setting his beer on the table. Your father got up, too. 

“Good man!” He patted him firmly between the shoulder blades. “You two have fun!” 

Joel offered you his hand and you took it before he led you to the dance floor, your body tense and separated firmly from his own. The music shifted just as the two of you got there, The Way You Look Tonight starting to play and Joel almost groaned. Might as well put a neon sign over his head, flashing “I want to fuck her” in bright red. 

He took you in his arms all the same, leaving a respectable, painful distance between the two of you as he started to sway with you on the dance floor. 

“I’m sorry about this,” you said quietly after a moment. “I don’t know what his problem is, besides the fact that he’s had too much to drink.” 

“S’OK,” Joel said. His hand was at the small of your back and he knew just how soft your skin was there. “I don’t… It’s nice. Dancin’ with you.” 

You smiled a little. 

“It’s nice dancing with you, too.” 

You looked at him differently then. Your eyes were softer, your body less stiff and it reminded Joel of the night before, when you were just a stranger in a bar and you smiled and talked and laughed with him for hours. 

“I wish things were different,” you said quietly, eyes searching his. “I know we just met but… I mean, if I lived closer, if…” 

“If I wasn’t your daddy’s friend?” He asked, giving you a crooked smile. 

You laughed a little. 

“Yeah, that little snag,” you said. “If life was different… I think I’d like to figure some of it out with you, Joel.” 

The song wound down and he knew his time with you was numbered. 

“Think I’d like to figure it out with you, too.” 

He wanted to kiss you then and, if you were any other woman or in any other place, he would have. But instead, the music ended and he forced himself to stop touching you and he stood, in the middle of the dance floor, other couples flowing around him as he watched you walk away from him and back toward your family. 

Joel seriously considered getting hammered when he got home that night. Drinking himself into oblivion seemed like the kindest thing he could do to himself but he couldn’t bring himself to risk losing the memory of dancing with you like that. Instead, he lay flat on his back in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, etching every part of you into his mind as best he could because, goddammit, the last day had to have existed for something, right? A bright spot in what had become a lonely life, something he could look back on with fondness when shit didn’t go the way he wanted. 

But, before too long, he knew that wouldn’t be enough. 

He got up, not bothering to get changed, just staying in his plaid pajama pants and threadbare band t-shirt and drove to your hotel. He remembered your room number and, only after he’d knocked on your door, did he realize what he’d done. He had, without calling or texting or anything that was actually fucking sensible, shown up at your door at - he glanced at his watch - one in the fucking morning. 

“Shit,” he said to himself, already moving to go when your door opened. 

“Joel?” You frowned a little, looking him up and down. “What are you…” 

“This was stupid,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this, I should’ve just…” 

You reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from leaving and he blinked in surprise. 

“Did you want to come in or not?” You asked, brows raised. 

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly. “Yeah, I do.” 

And you smiled and took his hand, leading him into your room. 

***

Six Months Later 

“This feels like tempting fate,” you muttered as you did your hair in the mirror over Joel’s dresser. 

“Nah,” he waved you off as he lounged, shirtless, on the bed. “It’ll be fine. Think we can manage to keep our hands to ourselves for a few hours.” 

You scoffed at that. If you could, that would be a fucking first. 

In the six months since you and Joel had decided to make a go of it - damn all the reasons that you shouldn’t - you’d been happier than you could ever remember being. He’d been to visit you in Tennessee twice and you’d met up in New Orleans once but this was your first time back home since you’d decided that dating your father’s best friend wasn’t a total lost cause. 

When you were together, you spent obscene amounts of time in bed. He made you come more than anyone else you’d ever been with and you spent hours naked and tangled up with each other. Even when you were apart, he still gave you the best damn orgasms of your life because he was shockingly good at sexting for someone who was 20 years older than you. 

But your connection with Joel was so much deeper than the physical. You could talk with him the way you could no one else, he knew you and saw you in a way you didn’t realize was possible for another person to see you and know you. You wanted to spend all your time with him, do everything with him. How were you supposed to sit at your parents’ house for Thanksgiving dinner with him next to you at the table and expect them to not notice that? 

“M’serious,” he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the side of your neck before nuzzling into your skin there. “Be on my best behavior. No fuckin’ you in the storage room this time. Couldn’t get me naked tonight if you tried.” 

“Oh, OK,” you rolled your eyes but laughed a little. “I’m sure you’d keep it in your pants if I just tugged my sweater dress down nice and low and headed off to the quiet part of the house…” 

“Well now you’re just askin’ too much of me, baby,” he teased, kissing you again before putting his face beside yours in the mirror. “I’m just a man, after all.” 

“My man,” you smiled and he laughed. 

“S’right,” he said. “Yours.” 

You went to your parents’ place first, keeping up the pretense that you’d been staying at a friend’s and not at Joel’s during your trip home, and you helped your mom finish up the last of dinner preparations. 

“You’re sure Joel’s not bringing anybody?” Your mom asked your dad as the two of you set the table, your dad camped in front of the television watching football. 

“S’what he said,” he replied absently before smacking his hand down on the arm of his recliner. “Fuckin’ hell! Dunno when we’re gonna field a goddamn defense this season…” 

“Well I thought you mentioned that he’d been seeing someone,” your mom said and your head snapped around to look at her so fast your neck popped. She frowned at you and you cleared your throat awkwardly, looking back down at the place setting you were arranging. 

“Said I thought he was seein’ someone,” your dad corrected her. “Been actin’ all cagey last few months but he’s got this funny look on his face when he shows up for basketball is all.” 

You bit back a smile and put out the next napkin. 

“Well, that’s good,” your mom said. “I hope he is seeing someone. Joel’s a good guy, he deserves a good woman.” 

“I agree OH COME ON!” He was on his feet, remote clutched in his hand as a ref gestured on screen. He turned off the TV and threw the remote into the couch. “Well, there’s no comin’ back from that. I’m gonna take a piss before folks get here…” 

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that during the holidays,” your mother grumbled. The words were barely out of her mouth when the doorbell rang and she looked to you. “Would you mind getting that, sweetie?” 

“Sure,” you smiled and tried to keep yourself from running to the door, stopping at the mirror to check your hair and makeup before pulling the door open. Joel was standing there, one of those cocky, crooked smiles you loved so much on his face. 

“Well hi there,” he said, his brown eyes soft. 

“Hi,” you smiled and then feigned a frown. “I’m sorry… Jim, was it? Think we met at my parents’ anniversary party?” 

He pursed his lips for a second and rolled his eyes and you could tell he wanted to grab you and kiss you. 

“Joel,” he corrected you. “And yeah, somethin’ like that.” 

Your mother put Joel across from you, the two single people at the table, and you slipped your foot out of your shoe during dinner, tracing your toes over his calf where no one could see. 

“So, princess,” your dad said as dinner wound down and you were on your third glass of wine. “You ever gonna get a real job? Think about movin’ closer to home?” 

The room went silent, Joel’s eyebrows knitting together before looking toward your father at the head of the table. 

“Honey,” your mom said quietly, lightly scolding your dad. 

“What?” He asked, picking up his wine glass and taking a generous sip. “Think it’s a fair question. We bankrolled her gettin’ that damn degree thinkin’ she’d do something with herself and she’s, what, playing music for whackos?” 

“Dad,” your sister hissed, her eyes darting to her boyfriend across from her. “Cool it.” 

“I’m providing music therapy in an inpatient setting,” you said, setting your wine glass down. 

“You’re finding some damn way to chase that pipe dream of being a goddamn singer is what you’re doin’,” he replied. “It’s time to grow up, find a real job…” 

“Just because you don’t recognize the importance of mental health doesn’t mean my job isn’t real,” you said, forcing yourself to stay calm. 

“You said you wanted to study psychology so you could help people,” he cut you off. “Not so you could find some way to play rock star, and…” 

“And I think you’ve had a few too many,” Joel cut him off. Your dad opened his mouth to argue but Joel cocked his head, his jaw tense. “C’mon. You were just tellin’ me that she don’t come home enough, you think this shit is helping? It’s Thanksgiving. Cool it.” 

Your mom looked quickly between you and Joel before clearing her throat. 

“Pie, anyone?” She asked, ending the conversation before your dad had a chance to pick it up again.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you said when you got back to Joel’s that night, taking your earrings out and setting them on the nightstand you’d claimed as yours. 

“He shouldn’t have said that shit to you,” Joel said, his voice heated. “Can’t believe he’d even think that shit let alone say it. I’d never dream of saying somethin’ like that to Sarah, not about to just let him…” 

“Yes, you are,” you said, crossing your arms and facing him. “He’s always been like that, he’s always only wanted me to exist as an extension of himself and only do what he thinks is worthwhile. It’s nothing new, I’m used to it…” 

“Well, you fuckin’ shouldn’t be,” he snapped. “You deserve better than that.” 

“It’s great that you believe that,” you said. “I do, too. But if we want to make this work? You can’t come to my rescue. If it happens again, you have to let me handle it. Understand?” 

He sighed before going and kissing your temple. 

“Whatever you want, baby.” 

July 4th, 19 months later

“Do we really have to go?” You groaned, Joel’s ceiling fan turning lazily over your head. You were naked, the only way you could handle being anywhere close to Joel in this heat, your bodies sticky with sweat and come. 

“You are visiting for the holiday,” he said, toying with your fingers. “Probably look pretty damn weird if you don’t turn up for the cookout.” 

You sighed. 

“You’re right,” you said. “But you have to behave yourself this time. Actually behave yourself, I mean it.” 

“When do I not behave myself?” He teased. “I’m always on my best behavior when it comes to you, baby.”

You snorted. 

“Is that what you called it when you cornered me in the bathroom last Christmas and stuck your tongue down my throat?” You asked. 

“Yup,” he said. 

“How about when you pick a fight with my dad when he says something shitty?” 

“He stops sayin’ shitty stuff, I’ll stop fighting ‘im on it,” Joel shrugged. You groaned. “I just don’t understand that man. I love ‘im like a brother, and all he says about you when you aren’t around is glowing. You’d think that man worships the ground you walk on but for some reason, you come home and he decides to act like a fuckin’ jackass and I’m not about to just let him talk to you that way, baby, I’m sorry but I’m not. I’d stop any man from talking about his kid that way but I’m sure as hell not gonna just let him do it to you.” 

“Your chivalry would be hotter if it wasn’t putting our entire relationship at risk,” you said wryly. 

He shrugged. 

“We gotta tell him eventually, baby,” he said. “And if he finds out because he was being an ass, well, that’s on him.” 

You went into what had become your usual habit with Joel and holidays. When he wasn’t with Sarah - another hurdle you had yet to cross, not sure how she’d feel about her father dating someone just two years older than her - the two of you were usually together. When you came to Austin like you were now, you went to your parents’ house first and pitched in with your mother, counting the minutes until he showed up at the door. When he did, with his special recipe baked beans in hand, a profound relief took you. He was there, with you, and you were making it work. 

Or you were, until your dad made a back handed comment about your career yet again. 

You clenched your hand a little tighter around your beer bottle and you opened your mouth to respond but Joel beat you to it. 

“I don’t know why you say that kind of crap,” he said, going from leaning against a fence post by the pool to rising to his full and frankly massive height. “You tryin’ to make your kid feel like shit? Make her think you ain’t proud of her and what she does? Because I got news for you, bud, you’re damn lucky to have someone like her for a kid, someone who’s smart and kind and talented as hell. You’re damn lucky she comes around here at all, you talking to her the way you do and I’m not about to just let you pull that shit in front of me!” 

You stood there, mouth open, staring at your boyfriend who no one knew was your boyfriend. The party had gone silent, the only sounds coming from the sizzle of burgers on the grill and the quiet guitar of background music from the speakers around the pool. 

“Don’t much appreciate bein’ spoken to like that in my own home, friend,” your dad said eventually, his voice low and dangerous. 

“I’m sure you don’t,” Joel muttered, setting his beer bottle down with a little too much force on a nearby table. “I’ll see myself out.” 

He hardly looked your way on his way to his truck and, when the rest of the guests left that night, you just had to pray that your mom believed you when you lied and said you didn’t know why Joel would act like that because of you. 

Two months later 

“It’s just not working,” you said, your voice thick. 

You didn’t like doing this. You didn’t want to do this. You needed to do this. 

“Baby,” he said, a pleading edge to his voice. “C’mon, I know… I know things have been rough, that the distance is real hard and that I fucked up when you were here last but…” 

“What are we doing, Joel?” You asked, rubbing your temple with one hand and clutching your phone to your head with the other. 

“I thought we were lovin’ each other,” he said in a voice so sad and weak it almost broke you. 

“To what end?” You asked. “Where is this going? We’ve been doing this for more than two years now and what’s changed? We’re still in different states, my parents still don’t know and neither does your daughter, our lives are still separate. We have no where to go from here and I just… I can’t keep doing this. It’s not working.” 

“Isn’t it worth it like it is?” He said softly. 

“Joel,” you whispered. 

He sighed. 

“You’re right,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m… I’m sorry. I just… You’re right. I shouldn’t hold you back, you deserve to have whatever you want.” 

“So do you,” you said quietly. 

He laughed once. 

“We both know that ain’t true,” he said. “Just… take care of yourself for me, OK baby? Give yourself something good.” 

“You too,” you said, just letting yourself sob now. 

“Still love you, baby,” he almost whispered. “Think I always will.” 

You pressed your nails into your palm. You weren’t sure you could survive saying it back. 

He didn’t ask you to. 

“I’ll see you around,” he said. “Bye, baby.” 

He hung up before you said I love you, too. 

Seven Years Later

You wondered if you should feel guilty, looking at your engagement ring on your finger as your new fiance snored lightly beside you. 

Reid was a good man. You’d met on a dating app a few years earlier, a few casual boyfriends between you and the disintegration of your relationship with Joel by then but he still lingered there on the edge of your consciousness. Never close but never far away, either. 

Your new fiance had wooed you in the usual way. He charmed you over text, he thoughtfully arranged dates, he even sent you flowers the first time you slept with him. He did almost everything right, even if he was sometimes oddly distant and unreachable. You were happy when he got down on one knee at the mini-golf course he’d taken you to on your first date, a large and shining diamond held out to you as an offering. 

But for a moment, just half a second, it wasn’t Reid you wanted to ask you that question. It was Joel, the man you’d loved more than any other, the man you hadn’t spoken to in the better part of a decade, the man you had no business still loving that you wanted to ask for your hand. 

Breaking things off had been the right call. You were right, it couldn’t work. You couldn’t have with him what you had with Reid, someone to sleep next to every night and plan a future with every day. But fuck, you still wished you could. 

You toyed with the ring, twisting it on your finger, the stone feeling oddly heavy on your hand. Reid was a good man. One you could settle down with, one you could build a life with. He was what you needed. 

You rolled over and wrapped around a pillow, trying to not think of Joel as you fell asleep next to your fiance. 

***

Bar None, Present Day

Joel thought he was crazy when he saw you. 

It wouldn’t surprise him if he’d lost his mind, spending the last decade hung up on you the way he had. There hadn’t been a day that passed since you left him that he didn’t think about you. He wondered how you were doing, if you were too stressed at work or if you were drinking enough water or if you’d seen a movie he thought you’d like. 

Sometimes, he just thought about you existing in your life. He pictured you on your couch reading or laughing with a glass of wine in your hand or lying in bed with your eyes half closed as you drifted toward sleep. He liked doing that, picturing you in your space in the intimate moments of your life. 

Others, he thought about the deeper things. He thought about you being happy, both alone and with someone else. He thought about you getting older and advancing in your life and your career. He thought about you struggling sometimes and how he wished he could make it easier. He thought about sending you flowers on your birthday and almost did a few times before deciding that might mess things up for you, if you were dating someone and flowers from another man showed up at your door so he didn’t because all he wanted was for you to be happy. 

He’d started talking to your dad again, a few months after you broke things off with him. They made up in that gruff way men did, dodging any and all emotion as much as they could. Joel latched on to everything your father mentioned about you. He became masochistic, in a way. Asking after you sometimes, checking in on how you were doing, seeing if your dad took pictures when you came home for the holidays. The day you got engaged was a punch to the gut. Your dad had proudly announced it to the whole team at their game that night, damn near glowing. That hit him harder than he thought it would. 

You really were gone, then. It really was over. Your dad had shown him the picture you’d sent him when you’d gotten engaged. It was a selfie, a man much closer to your age than Joel was holding you close and tight as you held your ring up for the camera and smiled broadly. But, he thought - maybe wishfully - it didn’t reach your eyes. Not really. Some part of this wasn’t entirely what you wanted. 

He shouldn’t like that - and most of him didn’t. He wanted you to be happy. He wanted you to have every good thing you could because you deserved that. But the rest of him was selfish because he wanted to be the one to give you those things. He wanted to give you smiles and orgasms and fucking diamond rings. 

But he could’t. And you deserved someone who could. 

He’d tried to move on in your years apart, he really had. He’d tried dating for a while. Sarah even showed him how to set up a dating app and he went out with a few women but it hadn’t been any different than it had been in the past. It wasn’t long before he gave up, resigning himself to a life where the best of it was behind him. 

Going to Bar None was one of those masochistic things he just kept doing. He tried not to go too often, limiting himself to once a month at most. Some months were better than others. Sometimes, he could go six, eight weeks without stepping foot inside the place he’d first met you. Others, he went back three or four nights in a row. He always sat at the same spot he’d been at when he first saw you, like if he stayed rooted there long enough you’d walk back into his life and you could pick up right where you left off. 

Still, it was a shock when he saw you come in with your friends that night. He forced himself to sit there and wait even though your eyes found his the second you were in the door. 

You were engaged. Maybe even home for some kind of wedding related event. The last thing you needed was some ex-boyfriend butting in where he wasn’t wanted. 

But… you were looking at him. Not just looking at him, looking at him the way you used to, looking at him like you wanted him. So, when the last of your friends got up and left and you were there at the table, alone, he couldn’t help it. He went to you. 

And you weren’t wearing a ring.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, looking at your bare hand for a moment before going back to your face. “Your dad didn’t say…” 

“Yeah, he wasn’t exactly thrilled,” you smiled a little, putting your hand back in your lap. “He lost out on some deposit money for the wedding when that fell through. Thankfully, he got to place the blame on my ex and not on me.” 

“Can I ask what happened?” Joel asked, trying to keep from feeling hopeful. Lord knows he shouldn’t. 

“He cheated on me,” you said, shrugging simply as though you’d said he’d forgotten what you’d sent him to the store to get.

“Shit,” Joel shook his head. “I’m sorry. He’s a scumbag, not to mention a fuckin’ dumbass.” 

You smiled a little and shrugged again. 

“It happens,” you said. “And, honestly… I was a little relieved. The closer we got to the wedding, the more I wondered if I was doing the right thing.” 

Joel’s heart sped up. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking a sip of your drink. “As much as I loved him, it just… it wasn’t the same as how I felt for this one guy I dated before.” 

“Really?” Joel asked, forcing himself to stay in his seat and not take your face in his hands and kiss you. 

“Really,” you smiled a little bigger now, one that it looked like you were struggling to contain. “We dated for a while and I loved him so much. I still do. But I was stupid, I let a bunch of life things get in the way and I didn’t fight for things with him the way I should have.”

Joel moved a little closer to you. 

“Probably not stupid,” he said. “Probably just practical.” 

“Nah, it was stupid,” you said. “When you love someone that much, the only practical thing is to figure it out, you know?” 

He took a deep breath. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.” 

“Anyway,” you said. “I decided to come back here. See if he was still single and willing to make a go of it. A real go of it this time, one where we say fuck all the life problems because this is worth it.” 

“Well,” Joel said, his heart racing now. “He’d be a fool to turn you down. He was a fool for letting you go to begin with.” 

You smiled all the way then before leaning into him slowly, hesitantly. You kissed him, gentle and soft and your lips were so familiar but so electric on him. Something in him came alive at your touch, sparking low and deep and hot and he was suddenly desperate for you. His hands moved of their own accord, one to hold your face to his, the other to take your waist, slipping around to your back, pulling you damn near off your bar stool and into him, his tongue dipping into the sweetness that was your mouth. 

After what seemed like forever and no time at all, you pulled back from him, breathless and wide eyed. 

“Want to come back to my place?” You asked quietly. “I’m still unpacking but it’s not far.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly and then laughed a little. As if he wouldn’t go anywhere you asked. “Course I do.” 

You were barely in the door when your arms were around his neck, your body pressed tightly to the front of him, his hands snaking around to hold you close. You led him to your bedroom, tugging at his clothes and stepping out of yours until both of you were naked next to your bed. Joel’s eyes ran over you in the dark, the slats of the blinds casting lines of moonlight over your bared skin. You were somehow - impossibly - even more beautiful than he remembered, his hands gently running over the outline of you in front of him. 

“You sure about this?” He asked quietly. 

“I’m sure,” you whispered back. “More sure than I’ve been about anything in a long time.” 

He smiled at that, kissing you before that smile swallowed him up, and he lowered you onto the bed. He guided you back on it, until you were in the middle of the mattress and he settled between your thighs. His cock - already so hard it almost hurt and dripping with want - nestled against your soft, wet heat, the head of him brushing your clit as he rocked himself against you. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you breathed as he kissed your neck, drinking in the smell of your perfume and skin and just a little bit of sweat from the heat of the bar. “I missed you.” 

“Missed you, too,” he dragged his teeth up and over your skin to nip at your ear lobe. “So goddamn much.” 

He kissed over your skin, pressed himself against your warmth, worked himself against your slit, savoring every part of you he could possibly touch until you were dripping and damn near writhing below him. 

“Please,” you panted, your fingers knotting in the hair at his nape. “I need you, I need you inside me, please, I…” 

He just nodded, separating from you enough to look between your bodies as he lined himself up with your entrance, pressing just the tip of him inside your grasping pussy before settling on top of you again. His eyes found yours in the dark, your skin soft on his, your mouth open as you whimpered in pleasure and want. 

“I’ve got you,” he said. “Give you everything you need.” 

You nodded quickly, frantically, and he pushed inside, his cock spreading you open and he had to fight to not close his eyes and get totally lost in the feel of you. But he needed everything, he needed to see you while he felt you and heard you and breathed you in. It had been too long since he’d seen you like this - back arched, mouth agape, keening and whining from his cock. He needed it like he needed water or air, needed you with him like this as often as he could get it. He needed you with him in every other way, too. He was an addict, there was never going to be enough. He knew now, after years of drought, that he would happily drown in you if you’d let him. 

He kissed you as he bottomed out inside, the whole of him filling the whole of you. Your walls clung to him, already fluttering lightly over him, your thighs wrapped around his hips as he held himself deep. He could taste you now, too, and his heart stuttered in his chest. Finally, he had all of you again, overwhelming all of him again. 

When he started to move inside you, he knew he wasn’t going to last long. You felt too goddamn good and it had been years since he’d last been with anyone without a condom. But he didn’t need to worry about making you come, he could tell you were already close. It had been years since he last had you but his body knew yours deeply and intimately. He knew how your hips moved when you got close, how your channel would draw tight for a moment before relaxing ever so slightly, again and again until you were pulled so close around him that he knew you were right on the precipice of your climax. 

“Come on baby,” he whispered, looking in your wide eyes. “Come for me, let me feel you.” 

You cried out, the sound cracked and desperate, and he pressed deep as you came, your channel throbbing and pulsing over him so hard that the rest of the world fell away. All that was left was you and how you were taking him, you and how damn good your pleasure felt. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he said, still grinding his cock deep into you until your orgasm started to ease. “Not gonna last baby, can I come in you? Fuck, please…” 

“Please, Joel,” you moaned but, before he could start fucking into you hard and fast, your fingers dug into his bicep and your eyes met his, pleading in a new way. “But… I’m not on anything.” 

He stilled inside you, your cunt still tight around him, the last aftershocks of your orgasm running over him. You wanted him to come inside unprotected. He knew you’d always wanted children. You’d even day dreamed about it with him, fingers laced with his when you were naked in bed, but that’s all it had ever been: a dream. Now, you were damn near asking for it. 

“You sure?” He asked, breathless. 

“Yes,” you whispered. “I want you. All of you.” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck and fucking into you in earnest, his cock harder than it had ever been at your words. “I’m yours baby, only ever been yours.” 

Your thighs tightened against his sides, your hips rising to meet his, your pussy drawing tight around him again as he worked down into you and he moaned into your skin as he came, the heavy pulse of his orgasm making you come around him again, finding the height of your shared being together again, the way it seemed like it always should have been. 

When his climax finally eased, he went limp on top of you for a moment, your hands tracing slow, easy paths over the breadth of his back. When it felt like he could control his limbs again, he kissed your shoulder and pulled out of you gently, falling to your side. You rolled to face him and he tugged you close before lacing his fingers with yours, brushing over your knuckles as he did. 

“Did you mean that?” He asked quietly, eventually. 

“Yes,” you said softly, watching him closely. “I know what I want, Joel. I went a long time without you. I had a lot of time to think about things. I know what I want and what I want is you. I wanted you while we were apart, too, I was just… too afraid of what that might mean. But I know better now.” 

“What about your family?” He asked. “Your dad… not sure he’ll ever forgive us.” 

“Don’t care,” you said. “I fight with him all the time, anyway. At least this is a good reason to.” 

He smiled a little. 

“And it doesn’t bother you that I’ve got a kid who’s just two years younger than you?” He asked. 

“Moved past that years ago,” you smiled back. “Does it bother you?” 

“Moved past that years ago,” he said, too, and you laughed. 

“Does it bother you that I…” you took a deep breath. “That I want kids?” 

He watched you closely for a moment, your lower lip drawn between your teeth. 

“Haven’t thought much about having more kids,” he said. “But the times I have… they’ve been yours.” 

“Really?”

“Every time,” he said. “S’long as you don’t mind them having an old dad…” 

You laughed again, all gentle and easy, the way things were when the two of you were alone together. 

“Think we can manage,” you said. “I just want you. Everything else? We’ll figure it out.” 

He smiled a little and he reached out, cupping your cheek and looking in your eyes and feeling a spark in his chest that said he was holding the whole world in his palm. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Think we will.” 

A/N: I'm SO SORRY it took me a million years to finish this, I really didn't intend to. I hope it was at least somewhat worth the wait!

I hope you enjoyed these two crazy kids. I had a blast writing them. Thank you for being here and for putting up with the insane wait between chapters. Love you!

[jhoneybees]

Desire

Hi!! Here's a sweet but also savoury fic that I might write a part 2 for🤭

Tagging: @elvisalltheway101 my doll🫶

Characters:50s!Elvis X Older!reader

Warnings/triggers: 5 year age gap (A/n: The fic is set in 1955 so Elvis is 20 years old and reader is 25)

_____________________________________________

Elvis has always had a taste for younger girls and their chatty personalities but when his head did a whole 180 after laying eyes on a matured gal like you that is more quiet and not as chatty, he learnt what his real taste is.

His family knows you from living in the apartment next door and they adore how friendly of a person you are. His mama would often praise you during family dinners to his daddy and him which usually he would get embarrassed about her rambling on about girls that could be a potential partner for him but now getting to hear about what you said during a conversation you had with his mama, he didn’t say a thing.

Even though he sees you with his mama quite often, he doesn’t know a lot about you. He knows you came from a privileged family in Texas and when you graduated highschool, you moved to Memphis when you were 22 to have a fresh start into adulthood but that’s all he really knows from what his mama told him.

He finds you very pretty and your laugh and smile are so contagious but the thing that gets him almost trembling is how mature you look in those dresses you wear, it does…something to him.

Especially when he saw you from across the road as you were walking into the building complex you two live in, wearing that red halterneck dress with cherries on it.

His bottom lip just couldn’t help but fly in between his teeth, those damn curves are something else.

He’s had quite a big crush on you ever since you moved into Lauderdale Courts and for a long time he thinks he wouldn’t have the courage to confess to you because he’s scared that you might get disgusted and shut him down or go off telling his parents to scold him for having such feelings for someone that they look so dearly as a close family member so to save himself from that humility, he’ll just watch you from afar.

_____________________________________________

“Nah, you guys can go on without me” his friends groan in disappointment, they asked him if he wants to go to a party with him but he’s already been to 5 in the past 2 weeks, he wants a break so with another shake of the head, he bids them a farewell and turns on his heel.

He hums quietly, he thought he would be running around Memphis for the night with his buddies for a bit of a laugh but he’s a bit disappointed to find out they want to go ogling at girls at a party over at someone’s parents’ house, knowing that the adults don’t know about what their kids are doing because of them being out of town.

It just leaves him the option of just walking back home and finding something interesting to do there.

As he walks along the footpath with his hands in his pockets and head lowered down, he watches as his shoes lazily scrape along the concrete. He sighs out of boredom, he’s bored so what could he do when he gets home?

Just then when that question pops into his head, his ears perk up to the sound of a piano. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he lifts his head towards the neon lit sign noticing he’s outside of a night club. Maybe he could go and have a bit of a listen to the music? he shrugs his shoulders.

Why not?

Quietly, Elvis scans his eyes around the dimly lit bar room, seeing only a few black middle aged ladies in their best attire, smiling and laughing with each other with dainty little glasses in their hands. It’s not as busy as he thought it would be.

Then as he hears a piano play again, he looks towards the sound and his breathing comes to a halt. You’re on stage with a microphone in your hand, he didn’t know you worked as a bar singer. He gulps as he sees you in that black sparkly cocktail dress and your hair flowing down your back. Good Lord.

Elvis shakes his head and realises he might be staring too much so clearing his throat, he glances around to find a seat.

He sits at a two person table and decides to keep his head lowered, he might embarrass himself somehow, he doesn’t know how but it’s better being safe than sorry but as Elvis presses his lips together, the gravity pull of your voice through the speakers just demands him to look at you.

Is he gonna be able to look away?

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen.. The song I’ll be singing for you tonight is a song that I have always called a favourite when I was little…and it goes something like this” you chime with a soft smile.

Oh that smile.

The piano starts the song off and as the bass soon follows after, the cheerful sounds of the song fills out the room. The first word you sing makes Elvis physically melt.

“I don’t want to set the world on fire”

You smile sweetly and the older ladies there cheer you on with “That’s my girl!” and “That’s right!”

“In my heart I have but one desire”

His eyes soften.

“I’ve lost all ambition, for worldly acclaim”

Elvis brings his arms up to rest on the table, grasping his hands together and looking at his hands to try to just listen to your voice.

“I just want to be the one you love…”

Oh your sweet fluttery voice

He really can’t look away.

As you sway your hips subtly and bring your hand up to rest on the pianist's shoulder, Elvis bites down on his tongue. Gliding across the stage you walk down the steps and onto the bar floor, Elvis’ eyes darting all over you from your jaw to your hips and down to your ankles.

He lets out a stiff sigh and leans back in his chair.

“I don’t wanna set the world on fire, honey”

You sing with a giggle, taking slow and elegant steps towards the bar where the other women are, yelling and giggling at your cheeky little smile.

Elvis’ hand twitching, he sighs again while he lifts his hand to drag down the bottom half of his face.

“I love you too much” you add, making the ladies whistle playfully.

Elvis doesn’t even notice how his leg is bouncing nervously under the table, all he can think about is his heart floating across the room to the palm of your hand for you to squeeze, break, just do anything with it.

“You see…way down inside of me”

His heart pumps loudly in his ears as you turn your head and look into his eyes, walking slowly towards him.

“Darlin’ I have only one desire….and that desire is you” His heart clenching in the softest way as you give him a happy smile, realising who he is.

The small thumps from your heels make him hold his breath, sensing you walking behind his chair, a shiver drips down his spine as you place your hand on his shoulder.

Feeling you bend down over his shoulder, he lets out a small breath through his slightly parted lips.

“And I know…nobody else ain’t gonna do”

His chest almost stutters as he breathes in, your soft, sultry voice sending ticklish waves into his ears and into his brain. Feeling your warm breath lingering below his ear onto his neck, his hands adjust over the center of his pants.

“Did you like that, Presley?”

_____________________________________________

Read Desire pt 2 here!

[thursdayinspace]

For the fic title ask game, I’d like to request

• I had you big time

• Graceland

haha, okay, yes. those are one fic. they fit perfectly together.

tagging @today-in-fic

"I've thought about our weekend away," he whispers against her lips, kissing her again. "I've had the perfect idea."

"Oh yeah?" she pulls back far enough to smile at him, nails softly scratching the back of his neck the way she knows he likes. "What were you thinking of?"

"I actually went ahead and set it all up already," he says. "It's a surprise."

"Oh, come on," she begs, "Tell me! I need to know what to pack, at least."

He gets that twinkle in his eyes, the one he gets every time he's excited about something. "How do you feel about Graceland?"

She leans away from him so she can give him a proper firm look, frowning. "Mulder, no. You didn't. Please tell me you didn't."

"I've read this article, I can show it to you. There's actual proof that -"

"No," she says. "No way. Absolutely not."

"It'll be fun, Scully!"

"For you, maybe." She scoots a few inches away, resolutely shaking her head. "I'm going somewhere warm and quiet. I'll send you a postcard."

"But -"

"No."

"Okay, fine." He sighs, sounding dejected. "I'll call the airline and see if I can cancel your ticket."

She almost feels bad, but not bad enough to spend her first long weekend in over a year chasing the ghost of Elvis. "You're actually going?" she asks, disappointment settling heavily in her chest. "We wanted to have some time to ourselves. Just the two of us. I thought that was the plan."

"So did I," he says sadly, and pulls two plane tickets from his back pocket, dropping them onto her coffee table. "Maybe next time."

He gets up in search of her phone, and she slumps back into the couch, trying to resign herself to a weekend on her own. She thought -- Well. It doesn't matter what she thought. Leaning forward, she grabs the tickets from the table to give them an angry glare as if it's all their fault, until she sees . . .

"Mulder?" He turns around to her, phone in hand, gives her a questioning look.

"Yes?"

She holds the tickets up, raising her eyebrows at him. "What are these?"

"Tickets," he says.

"I can see that."

"For our weekend away."

"You know Graceland is in Memphis, right?"

"I know."

"That's not what it says on the tickets."

"I know," he says again, putting the phone down, looking way too pleased with himself. "What do you think about going to the beach instead?"

She barely manages to hold back a smile, doesn't want to let him win this easily. "You can be such a jerk sometimes."

"And you love me anyway."

She does, oh god, she really does. "You're lucky I do."

"I'm well aware of that," he says, coming over to sit next to her and take her hands, and she can never be angry at him, she just can't. He grins at her. "I had you. Big time."

"In your dreams," she says, but she's smiling too.

"I'll tell you about my dreams once we're at our cabin by the sea," he says. "About the ones that feature you, at least."

"Are they good ones?" she asks, and he lifts her hands to his lips.

"The best."

[ssinnerplazahotel]

╭──────────.★..─╮

*Chapter Nine*

╰─..★.──────────╯

WC: 8k

Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, toxic elvis, manipulation, drug use, it’s the 50s/60s, painful-difficult-devastating-life-changing-extraordinary love

Pairing: elvis x black reader

Disclaimer: full of inaccuracies, inaccurate timeline, inaccurate depictions of Graceland, historically inaccurate themes and items

Masterlist: Prologue, Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Time is a strange thing. It has a way of going by slowly and in a hurry all at the same time. It doesn’t wait for you or let you catch up. You discovered early on that if you focused too much on time it drifted by slowly. If you kept yourself busy and focused on other things it went by without you noticing too much. So you kept yourself as busy as possible.

Although you had plenty of money saved, you got a job within your first week of being in Atlanta. You waited tables at a small diner just a few blocks from the apartment you were renting.

It wasn’t the nicest apartment. It was above a family-owned restaurant and your landlord wasn’t the most forgiving woman in the world, but it was in the heart of the city and close enough to your job.

It wasn’t entirely without incident that you’d ended up there. When you arrived at the train station you’d decided to take the first train leaving that was going the furthest away.

Regardless, you didn’t regret the decision. It was a busy city, and you needed to be busy.

When you called Dawn that first night, from a hotel in the middle of a completely different state, she tore into for nearly thirty minutes. You were able to convince her that you were fine, and that you were doing what was necessary. You weren’t having a breakdown, you were trying to prevent one.

You didn’t expect to spend the next month searching for a place to be. That month of aimlessly wandering was unnerving, but now you were settling nicely in Georgia now.

You had left Memphis behind and you were gaining important life skills and managing your finances. It wasn’t the most ideal job, but you were able to throw yourself into your work everyday.

You were happy with the way things were going. And the more consumed you were with work and surviving, the less effort it took not to think about him.

You missed him every single day, a part of you always would. But it didn’t hurt as much anymore. The hole he left in your heart was still there, hollow but numb now.

“You got company, treasure,” Your coworker called out to you from the kitchen.

“Give me that sirloin, Chuck, I asked for it first.” You ducked your head to talk to him through the service window. “You get around like an old man.”

“You got one coming in hot,” He responded. “If you were nicer maybe you’d get your shit faster.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Looks like somebody’s lost,” Sinclair, a fellow waitress at the restaurant, said as she walked over to grab her order. You followed her gaze to the man taking a seat in your section. It wasn’t a segregated restaurant by any means, but only a certain demographic of people really ate there—this man, wearing a fancy suit and sunglasses in the middle of the night, didn’t fit into any of those boxes. “Let him know this ain’t Sterling’s.”

You laughed. “I might let him think it is for a big enough tip.”

“Speaking of big enough.” Sinclair called out to Chuck through the service window. “Where’s that sirloin?”

“Hey, next one’s mine.” You took your notepad and pen out of the front pocket of your apron. “I’m coming right back for it, Chuckles.”

“I’ll have it for you, treasure, don’t worry. I’m only one man.”

You rolled your eyes and made your way over to your section. You stopped to check on a few people before you made it to the man’s table. He wore dark shades even though it was nighttime and he kept his head down looking at the menu until you spoke.

“Hello,” You said, getting his attention before introducing yourself. “I’m going to be taking care of you tonight. What can I get started for you?”

He hesitated as he read your name from your name tag. He had an odd tone when he spoke but you couldn’t make out his expression behind the sunglasses.

“Yes.” You smiled politely, preparing to write. “What can I get started for you?”

“Well I’ll be, it is you.” He laughed. “What are you doin here?”

“I think you have me confused with someone else.” You smiled uncomfortably. “Just one of those faces~”

“Oh, no, it’s me.” He stood and removed the glasses.

“Joel?” Your stomach dropped. “Oh my god.”

Joel laughed, hugging you enthusiastically. “I haven’t seen you since you took off.”

You froze when he hugged you, uncomfortably patting his back with one hand before he pulled away. You glanced around the restaurant to see if anyone was watching, catching a few eyes before looking up at him again. “W-What are you doing here, Joel? Are you here with someone?”

“No, I’m alone.” He still looked stunned to see you.

“I-I hardly recognized you for a second,” You stammered.

“You look~ I mean~ you haven’t changed.” He laughed. “I only been out here a couple weeks or so with my parents.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, my dad opened up a repair shop just off the highway.”

“Auto repair?” You presumed.

“Yeah, he wanted me up here with ‘im. He’s got me fixin cars all day.”

“Why Atlanta?”

“I guess he thinks city folk have more car trouble,” He chuckled. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Why here?”

You shrugged. “I just found myself here. No reason really.”

“It’s a strange city,” Joel said. “I don’t think I’ve slept a wink since I been here.”

“I guess that explains the sunglasses in the middle of the night?”

“Oh, yeah, not to mention that I’m so hungover I can’t see straight.” He smiled when you laughed. “I don’t get out much but I pay the price when I do.”

“Well, sit down, I’ll bring you some coffee.” You smiled and turned to walk away before he stopped you.

“Maybe we can catch up,” He said. “You’re the only familiar face I seen since I been here.”

“I’m working right now.”

“After?”

You hesitated. “I-I don’t know…”

His face fell slightly. “That’s fine, I understand.”

You felt bad about declining the offer. He was a familiar face and he’d had a good rapport with Dawn and you would consider him an old friend, even though you rarely ever spoke. “…I’m off in the next hour. If you’re willing to wait.”

“Yeah.” He nodded with a smile. “I’m not in any rush.”

You smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be right here,” He said, retaking his seat.

Sinclair looked at you with narrowed eyes as you walked over to the service window. “You know that man?”

“He’s an old friend,” You said, leaning down to talk to Chuck. “Give it to me, baby.”

“I got you,” He said. “Order up in five.”

“Order up now.” You walked away to pour up the coffee.

“How do you know him?” Sinclair asked as Chuck served her orders through the window.

“He knows my aunt,” You stated simply. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Sinclair said, checking her tickets. “Can’t I ask?”

“I never said you couldn’t.” You took your orders out of the window and loaded them onto a serving tray. “Thanks, Chuckles.”

“You’re welcome,” He said. “You gone in an hour?”

“I’m gone in forty-nine minutes.” You dropped your orders at your other tables before taking Joel his coffee. He ordered his food and you took the ticket back to Chuck.

The final hour of a shift was always the hardest to get through, but you managed to finish out strong. You set up the next waitron before clocking out in the back.

“See you tomorrow,” You called to Chuck and Sinclair, waving at a few coworkers on your way over to Joel’s table. He perked up a little when he saw you, closing one of the four travel pamphlets he was reading to pass the time. “You know anything about Vegas yet?”

“Not unless you’re interested in a Tropicana Holiday,” He said, holding up the brochure. “Three days, two nights.”

You smiled and sat down across from him, draping your coat over the back of your chair and sitting your purse on the ground beside you. “How’s your head?”

“Like it never happened.”

“Good.”

One of your coworkers approached your table. Her name was Monica, that was just about all you knew about her. “What can I get started for you guys?” She asked, eyeing the two of you strangely.

“Are you hungry?” Joel asked.

“I’m fine,” You insisted quickly.

“You should eat,” He argued. “It’s on me.”

“Joel, really, it’s fine.”

“I insist.”

He ordered you something off of the menu for you and Monica jotted down the order before walking away.

“You know I can’t let you pay for it,” You said when she was gone.

“Let me. Consider it a favor from an old friend.”

“I’ll pay you back.”

“I won’t let you.” He chuckled, pushing his hair out of his eyes. His blond curls still framed his face like they did when you first met him, though they were longer now—nearly dusting his shoulders. It made him look boyish even though his features were mature. “What made you leave Memphis?”

“I needed a change of scenery.” You had repeated the same lie to everyone you encountered, so much so that you were starting to believe it yourself.

“D’you still talk to Elvis at all?”

“Why would I?”

He shrugged indifferently and moved on. “I saw Dawn before I left.”

“You did?” You perked up a bit, grateful for the immediate change in subject. “How was she?”

“She was good, still workin at the house,” He said. “She’s the same old Dawn.”

Monica returned with your order and the two of you sat there talking until you finished eating. Joel was interested in hearing about the places you’d been to around the city and you were happy to tell him. You had more than enough stories to tell after being on your own for so long.

Thinking back, you weren’t sure how you’d done it. As you were recalling the memories you were also recalling how afraid and completely lost you were—fear had been the only thing you’d felt in months. You were so constantly afraid that you were used to it.

“You live near here?” Joel asked after paying the bill. “I can take you home.”

“I usually walk,” You said, grabbing your things and standing with him. “My place is just a few blocks from here.”

“I’ll walk you~”

“You don’t have to go out of your way~”

“I don’t mind, really. I want to make sure you get there alright.”

You couldn’t convince him to let you go alone, so the two of you left the restaurant together.

The entire night had been so surreal, you never expected to see anyone from Memphis again. “I can’t believe we ran into each other like this.”

“It’s funny. All these people and we still managed to bump into each other.”

You hummed in agreement. “I guess you stumbled into the right diner.”

“I guess I did.” Joel sighed. “I ain’t talked to anyone outside of my folks in a while.”

“I haven’t had time to make any friends.”

“It’s harder to make friends in the city.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “Back home, you step outside your house and you make all kinds of friends just from right there on your front porch.”

You laughed at that. “It was never that simple for me.”

“I’ve met some good people that way. You meet people everywhere here but you don’t know anyone.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that you hate Atlanta?”

“I don’t know…I think I’ll start to hate it less.”

After Joel dropped you off that night you didn’t see him again for a couple of weeks. You figured that you would see very little of him even though you were in the same state. However, he did show up again eventually.

“What are you here for? Another cure?”

“I’m sober as a judge.”

You laughed. “I would take your order but you just missed me. I’m off now.”

“Then I’m right on time.” He smiled. “I wanted to take a look at the old coupe deville. You were telling me about it.”

“You came to look at my car?” You asked incredulously. “It’s ten o’clock at night.”

“Time still doesn’t exist to me, I guess.” He shrugged sheepishly. “I understand if you have plans.”

“I don’t have any plans, Joel, it’s ten o’clock,” You said, making him laugh. “You don’t need an excuse to come see me, y’know?”

You meant it as a joke but Joel’s face still flushed slightly at your words. “Can I walk you home?”

“Just let me grab my stuff,” You said. “I’ll be quick.”

“You better be. It is ten o’clock, y’know?”

You cut your eye at him and walked to the back to get your things.

“Yo, treasure, that guy bothering you?”

“No, Chuck, didn’t I tell you he’s an old friend?”

Chuck scoffed and mumbled something under his breath before getting back to what he was doing.

“That white boy’s out there for you again,” Sinclair said, sauntering through the door.

“His name’s Joel,” You said.

“And what does Joel want with you?” She asked. “He’s been here three times now.”

“I think I know what he wants with her,” Chuck said, walking back out into the kitchen.

“Fuck you, Chuck.” You shrugged on your jacket and faced Sinclair. “He’s been here three times?”

“He came while I was covering your shift last week,” She said. “Speaking of, I’m gonna need you to return the favor. Wendell has a parent-teacher conference at school Friday night and Marc can’t make it.”

You nodded, distracted. “I can do Friday night.”

“It’s three to eleven, my usual.”

“I’ll make it work, don’t worry.”

Sinclair thanked you and wished you a safe trip home before getting back to her tables. You put on a smile as you met Joel, admittedly drained but not wanting to let it show.

“How was your day?” He asked, his hands shoved casually into the pockets of his acid washed jeans as you walked along the quiet sidewalk.

“Okay,” You responded. “Long.”

“I hear you,” Joel sighed.

“My coworker said you came by sometime last week,” You mentioned. “You weren’t looking for me were you?”

“I don’t know.” He smiled, embarrassed.

“Why were you looking for me?”

“I don’t~”

“You have to know. A person doesn’t just do things without knowing why.”

“I don’t know,” He said anyway, making you shoot him a glare. He laughed it off. “Maybe I wanted to see you.”

He looked away as he spoke, kicking at the loose rocks on the sidewalk.

“Is that bad?” He asked when you didn’t respond, still looking down at the sidewalk, watching the rocks as they skidded ahead each time he kicked them.

“No, I don’t think so,” You said. “Do you think it is?”

“I don’t know,” He said, laughing in realization. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to~”

“It’s fine.” You smiled.

“I was already out tryna to get away from my parents, so I figured I’d try you again today.”

“Do your parents smother you?” You asked.

“Oh yeah.” He heaved a sigh. You couldn’t tell if he was frustrated at the thought of his parents or relieved to be shifting subjects. “They always have. Mama’s terrible about it, and daddy—he does whatever she tells him to. They don’t think I can make it on my own.”

“I’m sure they do it out of love.”

“I know.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Everything I do is to try and prove to them that I can take care of myself. I’m starting to think they’ll always see me as a kid.”

“You should talk to them,” You suggested. “If they love you enough they’ll hear you out and try to change.”

“You think so?”

“It’s worth the shot.”

Joel smiled. “This is why I like being around you. You always have something good to say.”

You laughed in denial. “I know how it feels to be stuck in a box and not know how to get out.”

“Your folks overbearing?” Joel asked.

“Dawn’s really my only family.”

“I remember you saying that,” He said with an apologetic expression. “It must be tough being on your own.”

“It’s okay.” You were getting used to it, you almost preferred being alone. “Y-You should really talk to your parents. I think they’ll understand how you feel.”

“I will,” He said. “I’ll tell you how it goes.”

“Already planning your next stakeout,” You pointed out humorously. “Why don’t you just wait outside of my apartment instead of at my job?”

“You’re giving great advice tonight.” He laughed along with you for a moment. “Maybe I’ll catch you on a day you’re off, and it’s not ten o’clock at night.”

“You’ll have to if you plan on telling me about your talk with your parents.” Joel laughed again as you contemplated the idea. “I’m free tomorrow.”

“I’m usually done with everything at the shop around three on Thursdays—I could just….”

“That’s fine. You know the address now, I assume.”

“Locked and loaded.” He tapped his temple. “Not because I regularly stake out your apartment or anything.”

“No, of course not.” You smiled. “It’s 3B. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” He said. “You should give me your number. In case I have to call and cancel.”

You narrowed your eyes jokingly, coming to a stop as you approached your apartment building. You took your pen and pad out of the front of the apron you still wore under your coat and jotted down your number and address. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Joel said, taking the ticket. “Good night.”

You smiled and turned to walk into the restaurant that led up to your apartment.

Joel waited until you were inside before walking back the way you guys came.

“Leftovers,” Your landlady called as she wiped down the tables for the night, nodding her head at the carefully packaged food. “You’re late. I almost threw them away.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Angie,” You said as you grabbed the bag. “You’re always so kind.”

She hummed, uninterested in your compliment. “Rent’s due by the end of the week, no exceptions.”

“I’m gonna have all of it,” You promised, heading for the stairs. “Tell Mr. Ben I said goodnight.”

You climbed the stairs and got into your apartment. After putting the leftovers in the fridge you didn’t have any energy left to do anything but shower and go to bed.

You dropped your tips in your savings jar and called it a night.

*

“I looked at him and I said ‘Daddy, some things are gonna hafta change around here if I’mma keep working for you. I ain’t gonna let you and mama run me around and tell me what to do like you have been. Not anymore.’ You know what he said?”

“What?”

“He said ‘get your ass over there and start rotatin them tires.’”

You laughed from where you sat on the ground piecing together a puzzle on your coffee table. Joel sat on the sofa looking down at it as you made more progress.

“So?” You asked, glancing up at him. “What’d you do?”

“I got my ass over there and started rotating them tires.” He laughed along with you. “What was I s’posed to do?”

“He probably just didn’t know how to react,” You said, picking up another piece of the puzzle and examining the incomplete picture of a swan on a lake.

“There.” Joel pointed to the missing part of the swans beak.

“At least you tried.” You put the piece in its place. “I wouldn’t know where to start if I tried to unpack things with my dad.”

“Tell me about your dad.” He moved from the sofa and sat down next to you on the floor

“There’s nothing to tell,” You said. “He left when I was little and took my brother with him.”

“Do you remember anything about him?”

“I try not to.”

You laughed but Joel’s expression remained serious. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” You said. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“It should.” You focused on the puzzle as he spoke. “Not having both your parents ain’t easy.”

“You can’t miss what you never had.”

“Yeah, but you can long for something you should’ve.”

You met his eyes and your expression grew to match his.

“I think, even if you say there isn’t, there’s a part of you that wishes he had been there for you.”

“There isn’t.”

“It’s okay if there is~”

“There’s not, Joel.” You examined the piece in your hand, scanning the puzzle again. “I don’t have any strong feelings about the situation. It’s just something that happened.”

Joel took the puzzle piece from you and tucked it into its proper place. “He missed out on a good thing from what I can tell. It’s his loss.”

You shrugged. “I wish my brother and I would have gotten a chance to grow up together. Other than that I just…”

“Try not to think about it,” Joel finished. You nodded. “I won’t bring it up again.”

You smiled a little as he pieced together another piece of the puzzle. “Why are you actually good at this?”

“You just havta go by the colors.” He handed you another piece. “Sit back and look at the bigger picture.”

You followed his advice and leaned away from the coffee table. “Ah, I see.” You laughed, finding where the piece went immediately.

“There you go.” Joel laughed.

“I still might take you hostage and make you finish it for me.” You smiled. “I’ll never get it done on my own.”

“I’d be a willing hostage,” He said. “I like being here with you.”

You laughed again, unsure of how you should respond. “I’d make for a terrible captor.”

Joel smiled without meeting your eyes. “I don’t think so.”

“You’re a strange man, Joel,” You said. “Sometimes I wonder.”

“What do you wonder?”

“I wonder what you’re doing here.”

He looked up at you. “I like being around you.”

You nodded. “You’ve said that.”

“You want more of a reason?”

“Yes.”

He smiled again, looking off in thought as he fidgeted with the puzzle piece in his hand. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Try.”

“When I think of being anywhere else…I always rather be with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you.”

He avoided your eyes, focusing instead on where your hand rested near his on the coffee table.

“I like you too.”

“N-No, I…I like you more.”

“More?”

“I’m attracted to you.”

You fell silent. He wasn’t saying anything that you hadn’t already suspected, but you were slow to process his words.

He seemed to panic when you didn’t respond. “I don’t want that to change anything~”

“It won’t,” You reassured him. “A-And I want to spend time together when we can.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I didn’t realize how lonely I was before you came along.”

Joel’s hand brushed against yours when he shifted and you felt a rush of something between fear and panic but you didn’t pull away.

“I can always keep you company.”

“Would you?”

“If you wanted me to.” His eyes darted to your lips for less than a second before landing on your eyes.

Your voice was barely above a whisper when you spoke again. “…I want you to.”

Silence settled over the room and the air seemed to thicken as it went on. The space between the two of you gradually decreased and you both hesitated, you imagined for entirely different reasons. Joel started to pull away after sensing your hesitation but you closed the space between your lips before he could.

You broke the kiss immediately, anxiously awaiting his reaction. He shifted towards you, taking your face between both his hands and searching your eyes for any sign of skepticism before kissing you again.

Your eyes fluttered shut and your hands came to rest on his forearms. You only opened your eyes when he broke the kiss, finding his already on you.

“Will you stay?”

“If you want me to.”

“I want you to.”

*

Your relationship with Joel brought something into your life that you didn’t realize you were missing.

He was there for you when you needed him and even when you didn’t. He listened to you and he was interested in your thoughts. He didn’t expect anything from you. He was patient and he let you come to terms with your feelings on your own accord. He was your friend before he was your lover.

You felt different when you were with Joel. You didn’t feel nervous or anxious when you were around him. You weren’t afraid to tell him the truth and you never worried that he’d hurt you or find some way to punish you if you went against him. He was gentle with you, almost too gentle.

“I want you to meet my parents,” He said during one of his afternoon visits. “I told them about you.”

“You did?”

“They want to meet you,” He said. “They wanna know who’s been taking up all my time.”

You didn’t know what was so different at the time—why Joel made you feel so different. You soon came to realize that Joel’s way of loving you simply wasn’t the same as Elvis’ way of loving you.

You were there for each other when you had no one. There was a space you filled in each other’s lives that was different. Even though it took time, you grew to understand and accept that.

“You mean they want to know if I’m worth your time.” You stood at the counter sectioning Ms. Angie’s leftovers into airtight containers. You always had more than enough, so you usually took some to Sinclair whenever you had shifts together.

“No, I can tell them that,” Joel said. He stood behind you and slipped his arms around your waist. “Some things they gotta see for themselves.”

You laughed, shying away from the kiss he left on your cheek. “I don’t know how you’ll manage to make time. You work almost every day and I work every night.”

“I’ll make time,” He said. “You just hafta tell me when you’re off.”

“Fine,” You agreed. “But make it lunch, not dinner.”

“Lunch not dinner, got it.” He nodded once. “You taking that to Sinclair?”

“Yes,” You sighed. “If I eat another dumpling I might die. I don’t have the heart to turn it down.”

Joel laughed, letting you walk out of his arms. “I’ll pick you up tonight. 10:30?”

“10:30.” You put the containers into an old grocery bag and tied the handles before grabbing your keys. "I'll see you tonight.”

“I’ll see you.” He smiled, his eyes following you as you left. “I love you.”

You cut your eye over your shoulder, slowing to a stop. You walked back over and left a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Lock up when you leave.”

Things with Joel progressed quickly after you’d acknowledged your feelings. You were apprehensive at times about letting him into your life all at once, but you were more afraid to let him go after you’d grown attached. You feared that things would change the more he got to know you and that he’d leave on his own. But with time your trust grew and your feelings became stronger; you longed for him when he was away.

He became a part of your everyday. Long after the initial attraction that brought the two of you together had started to fade you still wanted him in your life.

Eventually, after talking and thinking it over, he moved in together. You were practically inseparable so it made the most sense.

“Marry me.”

“No.”

You were genuinely happy and you couldn’t see things any other way.

“Marry me.”

“Joel.”

You had a tolerable job, a decent place to live, and a person to share your life with.

“I’m not gonna stop asking.”

“That’s called harassment.”

It felt like you were finally getting a taste of that stability that had made you envy Andrea.

“Marry me.”

“For the love of god.”

You were somewhere in your life that you never thought you’d be.

“Please?”

You couldn’t have been more content.

“Fine. I’ll marry you.”

*

“Where are you, sugar?”

“I’m here.”

You sighed and closed the book in your hands as Joel entered your shared bedroom. He smiled when he saw you, dropping his work boots by the door.

“Look at you, lookin like a regular ol housewife.” He laughed, unbuttoning the dirty flannel he was wearing.

“You know I hate when you say that,” You said with a slight roll of your eyes.

“It’s not a bad thing,” He said, walking towards you. “Not to mention you will be soon.”

“Uh, uh.” You put a hand out to stop him. “You better wash all that off before you come over here.”

“Don’t I at least get a kiss?” He asked, still inching towards you. “I ain’t seen you all day.”

“Who’s fault is that?” You tilted you head expectantly.

“It’s my fault,” He said, kneeling on the bed. “It’s all my fault.”

You laughed despite your protests, pushing him away only after he’d stolen a kiss. He went into the bathroom to turn on the shower before leaning on the doorframe. “I meant to tell you that daddy wants me to go to Charleston after work tomorrow to pick up some parts.”

“Charleston?” You asked. “It’s gonna take all day to get there and back.”

“I know, but you can come with me and we can make it a thing.”

“‘Make it a thing?’”

“Make a trip out of it.”

“I don’t like the roads around Charleston.”

“I’ll drive.”

“Sinclair and Marcus were going to come over tomorrow night.”

“I know,” He repeated with an apologetic expression. “I don’t want to, but Charleston’s got the only place we can find that has any of those new alternators. I told you about them, they’re imported. We’re gonna be able to reach a whole nother demographic if we~”

“Baby, please, don’t go on one of your car rants.” You closed your book again, abandoning it on the bed as you stood. “This is the third time I’m going to have to cancel on them. Can’t your father go on his own for once?”

“I told him I would. It’s not like I’m doin it for free, I’m gettin paid for making the trip.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It’s my job to take care of you. You know that’s why I’m doing it, so why give me shit for it everytime?”

“Because I hardly ever see you anymore. I mean it, I don’t want to live here if it means you working all hours of the day and night.”

“We’re staying here. No one bothers us here, we keep to ourselves~”

“I’ll start working again to take away some of the pressure.”

“That’s not what I want.”

“What about what I want? I want you here, with me, more often.”

“I want to be here, sweetheart, I do. I’m not tryin to prioritize anything over you…” He worried his bottom lip as spoke, rubbing his face thoughtfully.

“But?” You prompted.

“But I hafta help at the shop as much as I can. It’s getting to be just as much my responsibility as it is daddy’s,”

“What am I supposed to do? Get in line and wait my turn for your attention?”

“You have my attention, always.” He crossed the room and took your hands in his. “If it’ll make you happy I’ll tell him I can’t go tomorrow, but I have to at some point.”

“Don’t bother.” You pulled away from him and walked away. “You don’t bother telling him anything else.”

“Why are you tearing into me right now?” He asked, shocked by your comment.

“Why won’t you tell him we’re getting married?” You faced him, arms crossed.

“I’m gonna tell him and mama~”

“When?”

“I don’t know just yet. When I can..”

“I’m starting to think you’ve changed your mind.”

“I haven’t.”

“Are you ashamed of me?” You asked.

“No, god, no.” He grew more frustrated. “I know they’ll never let me hear the end of it when they find out. It’s not about you at all.”

You fell silent, looking down to hide the tears forming in your eyes.

“I could never be ashamed of you, you’re too important to me.” He continued when you didn’t respond. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you like I should. I’ll try harder, okay? I’m gonna tell daddy I can’t go tomorrow and we’re gonna have some fun with our friends.”

You sensed him coming closer before you felt him gently lift your chin to meet your eyes.

“Don’t cry,” He whispered. “You know I hate to see you cry.”

You swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“Stay and read your book,” He said. “You can tell me about it when I’m done.”

You nodded, forcing a small smile. “Okay.”

He kissed your forehead and let you go. “I’ll be quick.”

“Joel.” You stopped him. “I don’t want to be kept a secret.”

“I’ll tell them.”

“Tomorrow.”

He looked undeniably conflicted but he nodded his head before silently retreating to the bathroom.

The next day, upon hearing the news, his father fired him and kicked him out of the shop. You had a feeling that Joel knew that his father would react that way and had been putting off telling him for that reason.

He tried to put on a brave face about the situation, but you could see it in his eyes that he was hurt. He had every right to be after years of putting so much into building and maintaining the business with his father.

“McNally’s been bugging me about coming to work for him at his dealership,” He said. “I’m sure the offer still stands.”

“I’m so sorry, Joel.” You felt like it was your fault. If you hadn’t pushed him to tell his parents he’d still have a relationship with them and a job he loved.

“I don’t want you thinking this is your fault,” He said. “We’re gonna be married and if mama and daddy can’t accept that, then…I don’t want them in our life.”

You leaned back against the kitchen counter and crossed your arms. You didn’t know what to do other than apologize.

“I’m gonna change and head over to talk to McNally.” He stepped in front of you and took your face in his hands. “Don’t look so troubled, we’re gonna be alright. We might be more than alright if McNally gets me in at the dealership. There’s better pay and benefits~”

“It’s not what you love to do.”

“If it means I can take care of you, I love it.”

You slipped your arms around his torso, hugging him. He hugged you back.

“It’s all gonna work out,” He promised. He pulled away first, ducking his head to kiss your lips before he walked away. “Maybe you and Sinclair can go out tonight instead. You should take your car for a drive anyway. You’ll kill that battery leaving it sitting in the driveway all the time.”

“I’ll call her.”

“Brighten up, sugar,” He laughed. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You tried to smile. “I believe you.”

Joel secured a job working at Bibby McNally’s car dealership and, while it wasn’t something he was passionate about, he made the most of it. It was a high scale dealership and they had a lot of traffic all year round so it was never a dull moment. At times you could see him becoming drained and uninterested, but he insisted that working there was good for the two of you.

He was home more often and you got to spend more time together. It was exactly what you wanted, however, you felt guilty about him losing his job and contact with his parents.

One evening after he got off of work he came barreling into the house calling out for you. You rushed to meet him in the living room.

“What happened?” You asked in alarm.

“You aren’t going to believe this,” He said with excitement behind his words. “Guess who came into the dealership today. Guess.”

“Wha~ Who?” You asked, your eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“Elvis,” Joel said, enthusiastically. “Elvis-fucking-Presley.”

“W-What?” You tried not to let your expression grow horrified. “He did?”

“Can you believe that?” Joel walked past you in the direction of your bedroom, loosening the tie around his neck. “He came in lookin some kinda Roadrunner. I was trying to get a Pontiac off my hands and all of the sudden the lady I’m selling to screams at the top of her lungs. I turn around and there he is.”

“Did you talk to him?” You asked, following him to the room. You stopped him before he walked to the bathroom. “I’m not done.”

“I talked to him.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “He has some time off from filming, I guess.”

“Oh?” You crossed your arms to stop your hands from fidgeting.

He nodded as he slipped off his shiny dress shoes and tucked them under the foot of the bed. “He said he wanted us to come back with him to Graceland over the weekend.”

“You told him about us?” You asked.

“Yeah, he was as shocked as you could imagine.” Joel laughed. “He said he’d arrange for us to fly out tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” You asked.

“You’ve asked me a hundred questions since I walked through the door,” He said. “Tell me what you think. We should go right?”

“I-I don’t know, it’s so all of a sudden, y-y’know,” You stammered. “You have work and we’re starting a new book in my club~”

“Sweetheart.” He stood from the bed as he unbuttoned his shirt. “You’re seriously telling me that you’d pass this up to go read a book?”

“You have work.”

“I can get away for a weekend,” He said. “It could be fun. We could see Dawn while we’re there. And Cynthia—Andrea, maybe.”

“You aren’t going to let this go are you?”

“A hundred and one questions.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I’ll never ask you for anything again if you’ll just go with me tomorrow. It’ll feel like old times.”

“For you maybe.” You walked back into the bathroom.

“Finish up in there so I can shower,” He called as you shut the door. “I wanna help you cook.”

“Just a minute.” You leaned forward against the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror. For a moment you saw your old self reflected back at you. Just hearing his name made you feel small and panicky. Knowing that he was in the same state didn’t make it any easier to breathe. You hadn’t seen him since~

Let me t-try to be better. Just give me a chance, baby, please.

You closed your eyes and tried to physically shake away the sudden memory. Was it possible for a heart to stay broken for this long?

You couldn’t see him. You didn’t want to see him. You’d put him out of your mind, escaped the hold he had on you. You’d worked so hard to rebuild yourself after he’d broken you down. You were at a place in your life where you were so sure of everything, you didn’t want to see him and lose all that progress.

You were in love with Joel and the two of you were prepared to build a life together. You didn’t want Elvis’ presence to taint that in any way.

“I wonder if Sonny and Lamar’ll be there tomorrow night,” Joel continued from outside of the bathroom. “Maybe Red and Billy too.”

“I don’t know,” You responded in the steadiest tone you could muster.

“I’m sure they’ll be there,” He continued. “You remember my cousin Jerry?”

You took slow breaths and stood upright with your hands on your hips. “I’m sure they’ll all be there, Joel.”

He laughed. “Tell me you’ll go. I don’t wanna havta drag you kicking and screaming.”

You swallowed harshly as you started putting away the makeup you had strewn across the counter. “Can we come back Sunday?”

“Yeah,” He responded, delighted with your capitulation. “We can come back whenever you want.”

You took one last deep breath and put on a decent expression before leaving the bathroom. “I don’t want to be gone too long, that’s all.”

“I’ll get you back home before you can even start to miss it.” He smiled as he watched you leave the room.

“Perfect.”

You went to figure out where he’d hidden your cigarettes. You pulled open a few kitchen drawers and shuffled through them before you found the slim, silver case. Your mind raced as you used the stove to light the cigarette before turning off the burner. You hadn’t smoked since Joel insisted that you quit weeks ago, but you couldn’t think of any other way to calm your nerves. You’d start your streak over tomorrow.

When Joel finally got out of the shower, he found you standing by the window in the living room. You were on your second cigarette and so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed him at first.

“You better put that out,” He chided, walking over. “I told you what they’ve been saying about them things.”

“Luther Terry’s fighting a losing battle,” You muttered, crushing the cigarette in the ashtray that sat on the windowsill.

“I ain’t seen you smoke a cigarette in weeks.” He stood behind you and put his arms around your waist.

“I know.”

“Something bothering you?”

“Are you still going to Virginia with Bibby?” You asked in an attempt to avoid the question.

“Yeah…” He fell silent for a moment. “It should be the last trip for a while. Once convention season’s over I’m all yours.”

You walked out of his arms. “You should wear the navy suit you wore last week. I know you lost your red tie~”

“You’re upset.” He followed you to the kitchen.

“I’m fine.” You tried to smile, forcing back all of the thoughts that were threatening to consume you. “I’ll find your tie.”

You continued taking the pots and pans down to start cooking.

“How is Bibby anyway?” You wanted to fill the silence. “The baby?”

“He’s good, the baby’s good,” Joel said. “He says Yvette’s a natural…”

You tried to listen as Joel went on about Bibby and Yvette, but you were too preoccupied–too full of dread.

After all you’d gone through, you were walking back into the belly of the beast.

*

“Don’t get me in too much trouble,” Joel said handing you your second flute of champagne. “I don’t want no misdemeanor for aiding and abetting.”

“You’re a year older than me, Joel. Don’t you think I can handle a little champagne by now?” You laughed and took the glass.

“We’ll see.” He shrugged.

“Not too much for you tonight either. You’re driving.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m barely buzzin.” He slipped his arm around your waist and kissed you with gin-stained lips. The two of you parted at the sound of Joel’s name being called over the music, turning your heads in the direction of the voice. He lit up when he saw who it was. You smiled as they embraced each other.

“How have you been?” Joel asked.

“Alright,” Jerry responded with an indolent shrug. “This her?”

“Yeah.” Joel smiled, slipping his arm around your waist and introducing you.

“Right.” Jerry repeated your name as if it rang a bell and you exchanged brief pleasentries. “Look, E.P. wants y’all to come up. He sent me to find you.”

You took another sip of your drink after Joel quickly accepted the invitation. You probably shouldn’t have been drinking, you were beyond queasy and the champagne wasn’t helping–not to mention that it tasted like battery acid. You finished the glass anyway, hoping that, if anything, it would calm your nerves.

“Come on, baby,” Joel said, taking the glass from you and abandoning it at the bar with his own. He took your hand in his and leaned in to speak in your ear. “You can still let me know if you change your mind while we’re up there.” You nodded, forcing a small smile before letting him lead you as he followed Jerry to the elevators. The music from the party faded behind the doors and all that remained was the gentle melody of the elevator music. “How long y’all been in Georgia?”

“Since yesterday. E heard about the dealership so he wanted to pass through.”

“How’d he hear about it?”

“I’m not too sure.”

Their voices faded to the background. All you heard was the sound of your heartbeat accelerating. After so long, you wondered if he’d be different. Your fear and panic was beginning to be replaced by other things that you didn’t want to acknowledge let alone describe. Because having to describe those feelings would’ve meant admitting they were there.

The elevator stopped on the top floor and you forced your feet to move. Jerry led you to the suite and opened the door without knocking. “I found them, E,” He said, walking in first.

His eyes met yours almost instantly. Those baby blue eyes that were so familiar yet so distanced from the ones you knew. He still had that youthful glow about him as he smiled and stood to greet the two of you. His gaze lingered on you briefly but no longer than a second. “Joel, ol boy.” His voice caused your breath to hitch. It was different somehow, deeper and richer, but so familiar. Like an old song who’s melody you’d forgotten but still knew all the words to. You could’ve been making it all up. It could’ve been that he was exactly as you'd left him but his beauty had already started to fade in your memory. “I’m glad y’all could make it.”

“Yeah, so are we.” Joel smiled and asked if he remembered you.

“Of course,” Elvis said, shifting his attention to you. He had an amused glint in his eyes as he smiled at you. “How have you been, honey?”

“Okay.” You tried to smile, breaking eye contact for a moment. “How have you been?”

“Okay,” He said, before turning to retake his seat, the people sitting at the table with him cleared the space. “Sit down here a minute and a tell me what you’ve been up to, Joel. I saw you weren’t with your dad anymore.”

“No, I haven’t been for a while,” Joel said, pulling out a chair for you. “We had some differences of opinion.”

“Help yourself to a drink if you want,” Elvis offered. “We can get whatever you prefer.”

“I’m okay,” Joel said. They each looked to you expectantly.

“I’m sorry?” You asked.

“D’you want a drink?” Elvis repeated.

“No, thank you.” You avoided his eyes.

He moved on with his conversation with Joel and you noticed a smirk gracing his features when you glanced his way. “What happened with your old man? I thought you two were close.”

“I thought we were. But my folks didn’t exactly approve when I told them we was getting married.”

“Married?” He seemed genuinely surprised. Joel must’ve not mentioned it before.

“I held off telling them. I knew they’d have something to say about it, but…”

“What’d they say?”

“Daddy fired me from the shop and I haven’t spoken to them since.”

Elvis grimaced. “Man, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Joel shrugged. “It’s a shame but I can’t change their minds about anything.”

“Well, congratulations anyway. You make an interesting pair.”

“Interesting how?”

Both their gazes turned to you when you spoke.

“Unexpected, I should say,” Elvis rephrased. “How’d you get caught up with Joel?“

“We ran into each other one day.” You tore your eyes away and looked at Joel.

“Why were you in Georgia?” Elvis asked.

“For a change of scenery. ” You opened your purse and retrieved your case of cigarettes—your nerves were getting the best of you. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Elvis said. “You know Dawny retired?”

“She mentioned it.” You nodded.

“She’s up in her own place now,” He said. “I check on her when I can.”

“That’s nice. I wish I could visit more,” You responded.

“I wish you could too,” He uttered, picking up a lighter from the table. “Light?”

You put the slim, white cigarette between your lips and leaned toward him as he struck the lighter. You sat back in your seat after the cigarette was lit, avoiding eye contact with both him and Joel.

“So you’re sellin cars now?” Elvis asked Joel, sliding a porcelain ashtray over to you.

“Mhm.”

“How d’you like it?”

“It’s a job.”

The conversation flowed awkwardly. It was almost as if they had to actively think of every question they were going to ask—preoccupied by other things. Eventually the three of you returned to the party happening downstairs. Elvis naturally drew the attention of everyone in the room. There was something different about him that you couldn’t pinpoint exactly. Whatever it was, you couldn’t help but steal a glance whenever he wasn’t looking. He radiated a certain energy that drew you in and made you want to watch.

“What’s wrong?” Joel asked. He hadn’t left your side since you got there and upon hearing that he was going to get your things from the car you must’ve looked panicked. He took your face in his hands and searched your eyes for the answer but you smiled and tried to distract him with a kiss. He stopped you. “Tell me.”

“Nothing.” You were a terrible liar. “I’ll help you.”

“No,” He said quickly. “It’s fine. And you don’t have to stay down here, you can go up to the room if you want. They say we’re heading out sometime tonight.”

“‘Sometime tonight’ meaning…god knows when?”

“Pretty much.”He laughed before letting you go. “Head upstairs, I’ll be there in a minute.”

You watched him leave before going to find the elevator. You couldn’t breathe.

You found the room Elvis had reserved specifically for you and Joel. You were relieved to be alone in the silence, but you felt uneasy knowing that he was downstairs and he knew where you were. The hours passed and soon it was nearly three in the morning. You were exhausted but you couldn’t sleep if you tried. Joel hadn’t come up the entire night and you wanted to be angry but tried anyway to give him time to be around old friends. He was familiar with their grueling routine—you weren’t. When he did finally return you were on the brink of sleep.

“Come on, sugar, we’re heading out.”

“God, what time is it?”

“I don’t know…it’s early.”

You pushed yourself into a sitting position and eyed him suspiciously. “You’re drunk.”

He laughed but ultimately shook his head in denial. “I’m fine.”

“You left me up here all night,” You complained as you slipped your shoes on. “I couldn’t change my clothes or anything. You could’ve checked on me once.”

“Time got away,” He said, grabbing your purse and holding his hand out for you. “They’re waiting on us.”

“Can I get myself together for a minute?”

“You’re perfect, come on.”

You took his hand and let him lead you out of the room—smoothing the skirt of your dress as he dragged you along.

You leaned your head against the window the entire drive to Memphis. Elvis had offered to fly you out but Joel insisted on driving. The two of you had planned to go straight to Virginia to meet Bibby afterwards.

You passed the time by trying to keep your doom at bay.

[kemetic-dreams]

Several African American blues singers and musicians composed songs about the culture of Hoodoo, including W.C. Handy, Bessie Smith, Robert Johnson, Big Lucky Carter, and Al Williams. African American blues performers were influenced by the culture of Hoodoo and wrote songs about mojo bags, love workings, and spirits. Their songs brought awareness of Hoodoo practices to the American mainstream population.

Several blues songs describe love charms or other folk magic. In her "Louisiana Hoodoo Blues" Gertrude Ma Rainey sang about a Hoodoo work to keep a man faithful: ""Take some of you hair, boil it in a pot, Take some of your clothes, tie them in a knot, Put them in a snuff can, bury them under the step…." Bessie Smith's song "Red Mountain Blues" tells of a fortune teller who recommends that a woman get some snakeroot and a High John the Conqueror root, chew them, place them in her boot and pocket to make her man love her. Several other Bessie Smith songs also mention Hoodoo. The song "Got My Mojo Working," written by Preston "Red" Foster in 1956 and popularized by Muddy Waters throughout his career, addresses a woman who is able to resist the power of the singer's Hoodoo amulets.

Hoodoo practitioner Aunt Caroline Dye was born enslaved in Spartanburg, South Carolina and sold to New Port, Arkansas as a child, where she became known for soothsaying and divination with playing cards. She is mentioned by name in the Memphis Jug Band's "Aunt Caroline Dye Blues" (1930) and in Johnny Temple's song "Hoodoo Woman" (1937).

Blues singer Robert Johnson is known for his song about going "down to the crossroads" to sell his soul to the devil to become a better musician. Some authors suggest that the song invokes a Hoodoo belief in crossroads spirits, a belief that originated in Central Africa among the Kongo people. However, the devil figure in Johnson's song, a black man with a cane who haunts crossroads, closely resembles Papa Legba, a spirit associated with Louisiana Voodoo and Haitian Vodou

[hooked-on-elvis]

ELVIS ESCAPING FANS IN THE 50s

GUTHRIE PARK, MEMPHIS, TN. 1956. The crowd of spectators that the Guthrie games drew sometimes made it difficult for Elvis to make as quick an exit as he liked, and this was a day when he used one of his rather ingenious escape maneuvers. Standing with Natalie [Wood], he casually pulled a comb from his pocket and began to work it through his hair. Then, in equally casual manner, he tossed the comb out on the field. When a cluster of the most avid fans surged out on the grass to try and grab up the souvenir, Elvis and Natalie darted the other way, toward the waiting Harley, and sped off down Chelsea Avenue. Excerpt "Me and a Guy Named Elvis: My Lifelong Friendship with Elvis Presley" by Jerry Schilling (2006)

[myosotisa]

Old Heart - Part 2 - Been

‖ chapter summary: Welcome to Memphis, Tennessee. Home of the only Quarantine Zone directly placed on the Mississippi River. It's home to a full cast of characters and you get a brief introduction to the settlement and other people's lives within. Including Eddie's.

‖ tags: enemies to lovers, age gap (41 and 25), forced proximity, slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, HEA, "zombie" apocalypse, reader uses she/her pronouns, no y/n, no physical description given, minors dni

‖ chapter warnings: consumption of alcohol (yes that's it, count your blessings)

‖ songs referenced: And Dream of Sheep by Kate Bush, I Wanna Learn a Love Song (Live 1975) by Harry Chapin

‖ word count: 11.2k

‖ prev ‖ ao3 ‖ masterlist ‖ tag list request ‖ next ‖

Tuesday, August 16th, 2016 – Memphis, Tennessee

After 10 minutes of walking through damp and musky tunnels, Eddie asks you to hold his flashlight for a moment as he slides something heavy out of your path. One flashlight in each hand, wondering if maybe you should try to help, all you see is the flex of his shoulders beneath leather as he shifts the object – far enough for a sliver of light to come through and continuing until there's enough room for a single person to squeeze in.

“Okay,” he says in an exhale, both hands shifting to his hips as he dips his head. “You first.” Clicking both flashlights off, you walk up to the opening and peek through, seeing a stone wall opposite, before hesitantly pushing into the new area.

Two steps in and you hear the sound echo for what feels like a full minute too long. Gray light filters in through stained glass and frosted windows across tall, stone walls with impossibly high ceilings. White dust dances, lifts, falls in the stale air around you as you take a few more steps toward the empty hall. Unlit crystal chandeliers hang in an even pattern across the vaulted ceilings, some whole and intricate, some with broken glass and half their shape, others that are just a chain left to shift whenever a breeze passes through one of the shattered windows. Lines of pillars, studiously carved into subtle curves, reach up toward brushed metal decor before melting into the ceiling above. The soles of your boots click across tiled floors as you approach the main structure in the hall.

A statue of what used to be Jesus Christ on the cross sits high above you, a backdrop of beautiful stained glass painted behind. The entirety of the piece is more than 10 feet tall and 20 feet wide – the remains of Jesus hung above an extensive carving of various figures from Christian theology. John the Baptist, Mary Magdalene, the four apostles, the three kings. They all are looking up at him in awe and devotion as they sit easily beneath his crossed and nailed feet.

The head of the statue is missing. There’s jagged stone just above his collarbone where it looks as though it was broken off. Smashed. Desecrated. Cracks descend from the opening and down, weaving their way into the other figures. A split across a king’s forehead into his eye, an diagonal break on the throat of an apostle, a cleave straight through John the Baptist’s torso. With your first glance, it seems the only figure left untouched by the branching tear is Mary herself, kneeling with her head in a bow beneath Jesus’ feet.

A cacophony of scraping and dragging hits you from all sides as the heavy frame Eddie moved is slid back into place, the sound echoing harshly through the empty cathedral and back into your ears so painfully you nearly move to cover them. When you look over to the source, he has just pushed it the final few inches before falling back a few steps. His shoulders rise and fall with a heaving breath and then he turns to you, hands back in his pockets, looking like he wasn’t affected at all.

“Another church,” the repetition of your voice bouncing back to you moments after it leaves your throat is enough to wince.

He lets out a snort of derision on his approach, settling a few feet away from you to also look over the carvings above. “Very astute observation.”

You barrel through his mocking, allowing it to fuel you but not give it your attention. “Dustin said you always want to meet at churches. Louisville, now this. Why?”

Despite that softness of your final question, it still rings out uncomfortably in the silence. You look over at Eddie as he continues to stare up into the space where the head of Jesus used to sit. There’s a reverence to his gaze, a vulnerability to the way his wide eyes flick across it, as if searching for something.

Searching for what?

The moment is gone as quick as it occurred. His head tilts toward you, his expression once again bored, eyebrows set low. “Trick of the trade. Not a lot of people are gonna question a man walking out of a church.” The thought almost seems to make him smile, a bit of mischief in the way he explains it. He spares one last glance up, in a way that’s almost longing, before he’s turning away from the feature and towards the door. “Come on, I’m hungry and ready for a shower.”

You trail Eddie down the shredded rug of the aisle, past what remains of the broken pews and tattered fabrics, and out the heavy twin doors into the afternoon sun.

You’re welcomed into Memphis by the park across the street. It’s dry and dying, a stark contrast to the rest of the greenery you’ve seen since the day began. Like the rain or the ground water from the Mississippi reaches everywhere but this single block of park in the middle of the QZ. It makes you a bit sad to see it withering, but there’s barely anyone around that seems to pay attention to it.

There are people nearby, the first you’ve seen in ages. None of them pay you or Eddie any mind as they go on their way. He veers off to the right, toward what seems to be a much more populated area, looking over his shoulder only once to make sure you’re still behind him. However, as you get closer and closer to where throngs of people come and go, he walks slower, waiting for you to catch up.

“Stay close to me,” it comes out as something close to an order, “things move pretty fast around the market and I don’t want you to get lost in the crowd.”

A completely reasonable request for a good reason. This you can accept. “Okay, can do.”

What shocks you the most is when a hand touches your back for just a moment, though you can feel it continue to hover there as Eddie pushes forward. It’s a good thing too, because you have never been around this many people in your entire life. The amount of people in this square alone could rival the numbers of the entire base at Quantico – and the crowd here is 50 times more diverse. There are children, something you haven’t seen in years, playing together in the streets, kicking a ball through the legs of the adults that continue on their way as if it’s a common occurrence. Probably because it is for them. You’re the only one around who seems to be overwhelmed with the bustle of the Memphis QZ.

The crowd feels as though it parts as you and Eddie walk through, or maybe he’s just leading you along the current as easily as everyone else follows it. It really does behave like a current as faces and bodies pass by on either side, some talking to the people they walk with, others keeping their head down as they move. It all starts to blur together while you let the arm behind lead you deeper into the fold. Part of your brain tells you to start asking questions about where you’re going or what the plan is but you’re struggling to process anything. The sounds, the smells, the sights – it all muddles together in your head and you can’t find something to ground you in the swarm.

“Eddie!”

A high pitched cry has both you and him turning, just in time for the source to barrel into Eddie’s legs.

“Woah,” he laughs as he rocks back to standing straight, a hand landing on the coils on top of the girl’s head as her arms lock solidly around his hips. “Heya squirt, almost bowled me over.”

Her arms release so she can jump up and down a few times in place, her excitement evident. “I missed you!”

You look on as Eddie drops to a knee in front of her, making them the same height. “Missed you too, Libby.” The smile that tilts his lips is stuffed to the brim with fondness and only seems to grow as her delighted giggle gets muffled by the crowd. It’s obvious the girl, Libby, looks up to Eddie and enjoys his company, and Eddie cares for her. It reminds you a bit of his relationship with Dustin: unrestricted affection given and taken in equal measure. “I gotcha something while I was out.”

Her eyes almost triple in size, wet and pleading as she squeals. “Really? You really did?”

He laughs, really laughs, his head hanging down as his shoulders shake. “Yeah, squirt. Picked it out just for you.” The backpack slips off his shoulders as he sets it on the ground in front of him and starts digging through it. Her impatience is palpable but the moment of waiting makes her aware of you for the first time. 

She dips forward, almost like she’s trying to whisper to him but she’s way too loud to actually do so. “Who’s that?”

The question makes Eddie stiffen. You’re not sure if it’s because he forgot you were there or the survival instinct of realizing someone is behind him. Either way, you step further into his line of vision, and closer to Libby, as you offer your name along with your hand. “I’m traveling with Eddie for a couple of days.”

The girl makes no move to shake your hand as she eyes it warily. “Come on, Lib. Don’t be rude.” At Eddie’s goading, she hesitantly takes your hand in her own, the taupe skin of her palm dry and soft, and lets it move up and down once before she’s letting go. She looks a bit shy now that she’s noticed you, causing her excitement for whatever Eddie continues to dig for in his bag to lessen. The fact that she is so shy around strangers but so comfortable with Eddie speaks volumes. Her eyes nervously glance between you and Eddie until an “Ah-ha!” brings the entirety of her focus toward the man before her. He produces a small antler from the bottom of his backpack – 4 tongs of khaki colored bone converging to a shaft with a rough, brown texture almost like bark.

“Wow,” she gasps, eyes wide in child-like delight as she reaches her hands out towards it. “Is it real?”

“Yeah, squirt,” Eddie chuckles, tucking some loose hair behind his ear, “super real.”

“But, but…” those same wide eyes start to water as she cups the antler in her palms. “What happened to the deer that had it?”

“Oh! It, uh…” Eddie fumbles, his own eyes as wide as hers now as he tries to come up with something to ease her rising sadness.

You step closer and drop down beside Eddie, your knee knocking his own with the movement. “Actually, Libby, deer shed the antlers on their own.” Her eyebrows pinch together in confusion as she turns the bone over in her hands. “In the winter time, male deer’s antlers fall off so that when spring comes, they can grow bigger and better ones. See here,” you dip forward a bit more and point toward the base of it. “That’s called the burr, where it connects to the deer’s head. Once a year, the stuff that connects the burr falls apart, kinda like when a plant on a leaf starts to turn brown. Then, you cut off the brown leaf, and a bigger and healthier leaf can grow back.”

Her sadness converted back to awe during your explanation, although still a bit hesitant. “So it doesn’t hurt them?”

“Nope,” you confirm with a smile, “doesn’t hurt them at all.”

“That’s so cool!” She hops again, gripping the antler in her fists. “I wanna go show Mama.”

“Is she at the shop?” Eddie asks as he rises to his feet with a soft groan of complaint. She nods and takes off running towards the crowded square full of tents in the distance. “Fuckin’ kid,” he sighs, although it’s with nothing but affection in his tone. His head tilts toward you, a self deprecating smile tilting his mouth. “Thanks, uh, for the save.”

You wave him off, taking a moment to dust off the knees of your jeans. “No problem. Looked like you needed it.”

“A little bit, yeah.” He shakes his head, a few more shaggy waves falling loose to frame his face. “Y’know I definitely killed that deer and ate it, right?”

“Oh absolutely,” you agree in a tease, knocking your elbow against his, “but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

The knock seems to jar him back into reality, reminding him of who you are and what you’re doing here. It’s almost like watching him physically retreat back into himself as his smile fades. “I guess. Come on, let’s get some food.”

Eddie’s arm is behind you again as you trail after the path Libby had blazed towards the busy market. The crowd is even thicker here, with more people just standing and talking rather than moving, which presses you closer into Eddie’s side as you try not to get separated. He’s alarmingly warm, even through 2 layers – each time your sides brush against each other the shock of it makes you hyper aware of each moment the two of you touch. It gives you something to focus on, to ground yourself, as he leads you off the road and through one of the crowded paths between makeshift market stalls. 

It seems like sometimes Eddie forgets who you are, and in those moments, he’s not as cold to you. It’s confusing, to say the least. The hot and cold treatment. Like he has some preconceived notion of you that affects how he treats you and it isn’t necessarily aligned with how you act toward him. You’ve heard a lot of stories about Eddie Munson over the years. It makes you wonder how many stories he’s heard about you. It’s hard to imagine he’s heard any but there has to be something to make him act this way.

The two of you approach a shop that’s cut into the building beside the market, like a walk up restaurant. There are several people milling about with their heads dipped over steaming bowls, eating quickly before they have to get on their way again. “Hey Mags?” Eddie calls out as he approaches the open door to the inside. His arm falls from behind you as you stop to wait for an answer, but you don’t have time to think about it before the smell hits you. Something rich, meaty, earthy, and just a little bit spicy wafts through the air and has your empty stomach twisting over itself in desire.

“Is that Eddie Munson, I hear?” A woman emerges from the darkened kitchen, wiping her hands on the towel tucked into her apron. Her russet brown complexion is coated in a thin layer of sweat as she brings the towel up to run across her forehead before she greets Eddie with a warm smile. “Libby just ran by shoutin’ something about you being back, bringin’ her something. You know you don’t need to get her gifts like that, Ed.”

“I know, Mags,” he sighs, shifting to the side to lean his shoulder on the wall beside the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “Just can’t help it sometimes.”

“Well you should try!” She laughs, a deep and melodic chuckle that settles over you like a warm blanket. Her deep brown eyes meet yours as she adjusts the sapphire-toned turban covering the majority of her scalp. “And who do we have here?”

“Oh, sorry,” Eddie stands upright again, waving you a few steps closer. He introduces you by name, citing that you’re traveling with him for a couple days in a repeat of the same thing you’d told Libby.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, darlin’.” She offers her hand, warm and firm on your own with a much nicer shake than Libby had allowed. “I’m Maggie.”

“Nice to meet you, Maggie. Are you the one cooking? It smells amazing.”

She stands a bit taller, looking proud at the compliment. “Got a nice big pot of gumbo going today. Y’all hungry?”

“Absolutely starved,” Eddie confirms, already looking like he’s salivating just at the idea of eating whatever she’s cooked. She waves you both toward the window, going back inside to serve you through it. She pours you each a steaming bowl of gumbo, the chunks of meat indiscernible but the dark roux soaking into the white rice along the bottom of the bowl is more than enough to have you digging in to eat before you even move an inch away. Eddie tries to give her a few pieces of paper between wolfish bites of soaked meat and rice, calls them ration cards, and Maggie adamantly refuses them over and over.

“So,” Maggie looks to you after waving Eddie off for the 4th time, “been travelin’ long?”

Ignoring the scars that flare along your esophagus at the thought, you shrug. “Just over a week, so not too long. Really excited to take advantage of Eddie’s promise for a shower though.” He seems to pause for a moment when you say his name, hesitating, before he goes back to inhaling his bowl. “Just wish I had a change of clothes, really. Had to leave my old place fast.”

She looks you up and down for a moment, as well as she can through the serving window, then she calls behind her. “Hey, Papa?”

A figure appears from the shadows beyond the reach of the afternoon sun. His tan skin is flushed red from the heat of the kitchen, sweat across his brow that rolls down his temples and into the patchy, black beard across his jaw. He twists to her side, resting one hand on the counter before them and the other reaching across to her outer hip. “¿Sí, Mama?”

She leans into his embrace without taking her eyes off of stirring the boiling pot in front of her. “Why don’t you run and grab Ed’s friend some clothes to change into? Then she’ll have something to wear while he washes them.”

The kind gesture has you reeling back. “Oh no, I couldn’t ask that of you. The hot meal is more than enough.”

Her dark eyes reach you again, this time with a glint of mischievousness. “I mean, I suppose if you would prefer to have nothing to wear while you wait for your clothes to dry…”

The obvious implication has blood rushing to the surface of your skin. “No, it’s not – I mean, I –”

“She’ll take the clothes,” Eddie interrupts as he places his now empty bowl back on the counter. "Thanks, Mags. Always too kind to folks around here.” She scoffs, waving him off with a self satisfied smile. The man asks you for some approximate sizes to fish for and you give him your best guesses, saying you'd prefer too big over too small. He gives you a little salute and disappears back into the shadows behind Maggie. You're pulling the last few bites of your bowl back towards you when Eddie speaks again. "You seen Red around?"

She shakes her head, expression falling a touch. "Not in a few days."

He swears under his breath, looking out into the crowd. Almost like he would just happen to catch the person he was asking about if he looked hard enough. "She mention where she was going or who with?"

"Oh yeah," Maggie's tone drops to a smooth monotone. "She told me all about it. And then we braided each other's hair and talked about boys."

Eddie lets out a soft laugh, rubbing along the side of his scruff a bit sheepishly. "Touché."

Maggie steps out from behind the stove to lean down on the counter beside it. “You know she’s fine. Who knows, maybe she’s up there sleeping right now and you’re down here worryin’ for nothing.”

“Yeah… Yeah, you’re right.”

“Always am,” she replies happily, attention shifting to you. “All done?”

“Yes,” you pass your bowl over toward her with a grateful smile. “It was delicious, thank you so much again.”

“Happy to, sugar.” She takes the bowl with one hand and offers a reassuring squeeze with the other. An overwhelming kind gesture that has you choking up against your will. “Ed, why don’t you take her up to get cleaned? I’ll have Gus bring the clothes over when he gets back.”

His eyebrows draw together on his forehead, “You sure, Mags? We don’t mind waiting.” We? He’s thinking of us as a we?

Don’t overthink it.

She waves him off again, using the tips of her fingers to cover that same mischievous smile. “Your smell is scarin’ off the customers anyway. Go on now.”

Suddenly self conscious, you try to subtly take a smell of yourself while Eddie thanks her again and says his goodbye. He turns to leave so you offer a quick wave before stepping into pace with him again. The crowd has thinned out a bit now as the sun begins to sink further toward the horizon. The lack of people seems to make him not feel the need to lead you like he did before, with his hand ghosting over your back. You try hard not to ignore your disappointment and the lingering warmth of his palm along your spine.

“Do we actually smell that bad?” You find yourself asking as you walk with him back the way you came, seeing a bit more of the tan, dusty streets than you could before.

He gives you a side eye, before replying. “I’ve been within 10 feet of you for over 3 days. If you smell, I smell, and neither of us can smell it on each other.”

“Touché,” you echo, a small smile coming to your face as you repeat what he said to Maggie just a few minutes ago. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him shake his head. And maybe – just maybe – trying to hide a little smile of his own.

Eddie leads you back to the initial intersection, the road that bisects with the cathedral, but brings you the opposite direction. Peeking between buildings, you can see the Mississippi River running wild only a mile or so ahead. To your right there’s a stately building, with its tall pillars and stone carvings, the words ‘MEMPHIS POLICE STATION’ etched into the stone. Beside it there’s a smaller building, more overgrown, less taken care of. Vines climb up the sidewalls and press into broken windows. Graffiti covers the bright red doors and the smashed out sign of the ‘Firefighters Museum of Memphis’. You press forward, past what looks like an apartment building on either side, through the intersection beyond, and towards the large building on the corner. The awning in front of the door reads ‘The Claridge House’, with the word condominiums written in smaller text underneath.

“Condominiums?” You wonder aloud as you follow him past the marble entry and into the ‘fancy’ lobby. Fancy by 1980’s standards with it's brushed metal detailing, blackish-green marble, and large designs in the tile floor. It’s empty apart from a single man in an armchair, legs kicked up and a hat over his face as he rests.

Your companion doesn’t reply, just heads over to the door to the stairwell and holds it open for you to pass through. After spending the last few days out in the open, you still find yourself on high alert – checking corners and looking ahead as you ascend. The rational part of your brain insists that this is a QZ, people live here, the likelihood of there being a random infected in here is near 0.

The irrational part of your brain supplies that the odds are not completely 0.

If Eddie notices your apprehension, he doesn’t say so. Just directs you to exit the stairwell at the 4th floor and head down the hallway to your left. Every other lightbulb is out as you proceed down the carpeted hall, casting an eerie shadowed effect across the peeling wallpaper on the walls. There is very little noise coming from the rooms you pass, leading you to believe they are either unoccupied or the occupants are elsewhere. Most of what you do hear is very muffled conversation here and there, along with the odd bleed of music through the walls.

As you turn the corner, Eddie brushes past you in the narrow hallway, taking the lead as he approaches the door labelled ‘413’. He digs a key out of his pack, unlocks the door, and pushes inside.

The door opens into a square shaped room with two windows on the far wall. They’re west facing, the first orange tints of the soon to be setting sun filtering in through the makeshift curtains. There are a few random posters stuck to beige walls, mostly bands and movies from when you were kid. There’s a rug across the wooden floor that has definitely seen better days, a sunken brown couch and 2 mismatched armchairs facing across from a homemade shelf of concrete blocks and planks of wood. There’s a layer of dust on the record player on the top shelf and the assortment of stacked vinyls below, some in their paper envelopes and others laying on scraps of fabric or pieces of paper. A few steps inside has the dust rising, dancing in harsh sun rays that press in from outside.

“Oy, Red?” Eddie calls, shutting the door behind you both and pushing past you around a corner. “You here?” Two doors open and close as you slowly approach the shelves, running your fingertip through the dust that sits on the cover of a Metallica vinyl. It’s less dusty than the other records below it, but it still hasn’t been touched in a week or more.

“Damn it,” is Eddie’s mumbled curse as he reappears from the side hallway. Turning his direction, you see him lean a shoulder against the wall separating a small kitchen from the rest of the condo. He wipes a hand across his forehead, causing his greasy and sweat-laden bangs to stick out in odd directions.

“She not here?” You prod, still not even really sure who she is.

He looks up, eyebrows raised in surprise, and crosses his arms over his chest again. “No,” he grumbles, casting a glare back towards the hallway. “No note or anything.”

You nod, shifting awkwardly from where you stand in the middle of his living room. Your feet are killing you and you’d like nothing more than to sit down or maybe take that shower you were promised, but it’s hard to move past the feeling of intruding in a place you don’t belong. “I’m sure she’s fine, Maggie seemed sure of it.”

“I know, I know, I know she is more than fucking capable of taking care of herself, it’s just…” Eddie hesitates, glancing from you to the floor. He sighs, his shoulders falling as his eyes drift closed. “Forget it. You can put your bag in the bedroom on the left, I’ll find a towel or something.”

He disappears into one of the open doors and quickly shuts it behind him, leaving you alone in the dust. That feeling is back; like he wanted to talk to you but then remembered who you were and suddenly decided he couldn’t. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth, the idea that he thinks you’re untrustworthy. Or maybe it’s for an entirely different reason. In the end, it doesn’t really matter. Either way you have no idea what you could’ve done for such a reaction.

Inching your way around the corner, you get a better view of the hallway. To your right is the door Eddie disappeared into. Before you are two doors. The one to the right is closed, so you walk toward the door on the left. The room is mostly empty – there’s a full size mattress slightly raised off the floor, a blue quilt spread over it, and a bookshelf in the corner being half used for books and half as a dresser. The only other things in the room are an acoustic guitar propped up in the corner and a mug full of pens and lighters sitting on the wood shelf. Walking closer, you see the mug is a cream color and the design is slightly worn off – there’s a cartoon drawing of an apple and mismatched text saying ‘I’d rather be at lunch!’. You manage to set down your backpack at the foot of the bed before Eddie reemerges.

“You can shower first,” he says from a few steps away from the open doorway. “I left a towel on the sink for you. There’s soap and some kind of homemade shampoo Mags gave me. I’ll go find Gus to get those clothes and throw them in when I have them.”

You’re stunned by the show of kindness. “Oh… Thank you, Eddie.” He shrugs and turns back toward the living room. His backpack is missing but you aren’t quite sure where he put it. “Is there anything about the shower I should know?” You call after him. He freezes, turning back toward you with his face pinched in confusion. “Like there’s only so much hot water or something? I don’t want to force you into a cold shower.”

It’s his turn to look stunned, his gaze hard as if he’s testing you. You struggle to remain firm under his scrutiny, just like you had the first time. After a moment, he tucks his hands into his back pockets as he slightly shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Water is lukewarm at best anyway.”

He pushes out the door before you can say anything else, the lock sliding into place a second later.

You set yourself to the task of getting to some semblance of clean. The shower pressure and temperature definitely left something to be desired, but you were hardly in a place to complain. You scrub your skin down until it screams for mercy and then apply the same treatment to your scalp. Halfway through your battle, the door clicks open, there’s a noise of something hitting the floor, and then the door clicks shut again. Trying to carefully piece through your hair, you have a moment to think about how long it’s been since you last took a shower. Not since the day before…

Don’t think about it.

Forcing yourself out of the shower before more cracks appear in your foundation, you towel off yourself as best you can and then sift through the pile of clothes now on the bathroom floor. There’s a soft, dark gray t-shirt, a denim button up, a pair of sturdy black jeans, a new pair of mismatched socks. There’s also a few pairs of underwear to your embarrassment. You’re grateful to have the extras of course, but the idea of both Gus and Eddie handling them has you a bit mortified. The underwear and t-shirt go on, foregoing the new sports bra for tomorrow, and you’re about to put the jeans on when you spy a pair of boxers at the bottom of the pile. They’re large on you and cover enough for you to be comfortable sleeping in them. Better than jeans anyway. You fold your new clothes and collect your dirty ones in a bundle beneath your arm and push back out into the living room.

You almost run straight into Eddie from where he’s walking out of the room he’d told you to put your things in. “Oh, sorry,” you apologize on instinct, ducking out of his way and back toward the kitchen.

“It’s fine,” his tone is flat, emotionless. He looks like he’s aged another 5 years since you last saw him 30 minutes ago. “You can throw your dirty clothes on the floor, we’ll figure it out tomorrow. Take whatever you want from the kitchen. Can put on a record or grab one of my books or something, I don’t care.”

Trying not to take the dismissal personally, you just nod. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.” He shrugs off your thanks and closes himself into the bathroom again. The shower turns on a few minutes later.

Your clothes get dumped on the floor next to the couch and you set the clean things on the end of the bed near your bag. The pattern of the wood digs into your feet uncomfortably so you end up putting the new socks on before you go snooping. There’s a small assortment of canned goods in the cabinets along with 2 sets of mismatched dishware. The only thing in the fridge is a half empty 6 pack of beer and a jug of drinking water. You pour yourself a glass and dig out a can of fruit before settling down on one side of the couch with your snack. The sun has dipped below the buildings beyond now, bathing the faded rug in orange.

The silence becomes too much in less than a minute. You cross the room and flip on the record player, setting the disc already there to play from the beginning.

Little light shining Little light will guide them to me

A high pitched feminine voice drawls out the words over a flowing piano. The melody is almost haunting as she picks through the verse, tone waving between sharp highs and rolling lows. It’s slow paced and bittersweet, but calming. The empty sleeve beside the spinning table says ‘Hounds of Love’ across the top, with a woman laying out across a pink toned bedspread. Not what you normally would have picked, but it fills the silence. 

Let me be weak, let me sleep and dream of sheep

You’re halfway through your can of mixed fruit soaked in a sugary liquid when the bathroom door clicks open. Eddie emerges in the middle of tugging a black shirt over his head. In the moments between, you catch a glimpse of his torso: lithe muscle and narrow waist. There’s a large scar across his left side, but you aren’t able to guess what from before it disappears from view. He runs his hands around the collar of the shirt, releasing his limp, damp waves from the fabric. When it’s wet, it’s near impossible to see the lines of gray you know are scattered through it. He’s wearing a loose pair of sweatpants that skim the floor as he walks over to the record player.

“Kate Bush, huh?” You’re too distracted by his arms to notice. He wore his leather jacket almost the entire time you were traveling with him, and this is the first time you’ve actually seen them. They’re not exceptionally muscular, definitely strong for sure, but what catches your attention is the scars along his skin. There are cuts and slashes that range from barely visible to a bright white against his skin. An indent in the epidermis across his bicep, the skin above it puckered and tinted pink. More evidence of wounds old and new are discovered each moment you keep looking. Realizing he’s asked you a question, but already not remembering what it was, you make a confused hum to see if he’ll repeat it.

“Kate Bush,” he repeats, waving his hand toward the spinning vinyl. “You pick it?”

You shake your head, setting your snack off to the side. “Was already there, I just restarted it.”

“Huh.” His eyes track back to it as it continues to play, moving forward to a song about being stuck under ice. Those brown eyes are settled in a glare, like the vinyl is hiding something from him and he can intimidate it into talking. When it doesn’t budge, he shakes his head, his hair leaving droplets behind as he walks into the kitchen. He returns with a can of his own, falling onto the other side of the couch with a groan. “So you can take the bed and I’ll sleep out here.”

You spin toward him, nearly dropping your glass of water in shock. “What? No, I’m not taking your bed.”

He leans his head back, wet waves draping down across his shoulders. He looks tired. Weary, exhausted. And not the kind you can fix with sleep. Eyes closed as he faces the ceiling, he sighs. “Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.” You repeat, more intently. “I’ll be fine on the couch, if you sleep on this thing you’ll probably throw your back out or something.”

A snort leaves his nose, the corner of his mouth turning up in amusement. “Good one.” You try not to let the acceptance go to your head as he rolls his head to look at you. “You’re gonna sleep in the bed. If my old man knew I made a woman sleep on the couch while I had a bed, he’d roll over in his grave. So please… Just take the bed.”

The bags under his eyes are more pronounced as the light fades from the room. They drag at the bottom lid lined with black lashes, sunken into the skin above his cheekbones. Between the dead stare he pins you with and the heavy weight that presses him down into the flattened cushions of the couch, you find yourself softly agreeing. 

When the record finishes playing, you refill your glass of water and go into Eddie’s room, pulling the chain to turn on the bare bulb above the bed. You push the door mostly closed, leaving it open just an inch or two. You can’t see anything beyond it, but knowing that if something happened, if there was some noise or movement or attack, you’d be a little bit more likely to hear it. It helps.

Eddie’s sheets smell like pine, whiskey, and something human. You take the second pillow along the top between your arms, crush it to your chest, press your face into it. Breathe in deep. And wait to fall asleep.

Wednesday, August 17th, 2016 – Memphis, Tennessee

Waking up the next morning is a struggle. Mostly because you couldn’t sleep for more than 2 hours at a time. It had been awhile since you were given the opportunity to sleep through the entire night and your body did not receive the memo.

The next time your eyes crack open and there is a bit of soft light coming from between the blinds, you decide to admit defeat. The decision is further enforced by hearing a hushed argument from beyond the crack in the door. In your half asleep state, you don’t even think before you’re rolling out of bed and pushing the door open.

Conversation stops the moment the door squeaks open. Standing in the doorway, a pair of deep brown and a pair of bright blue eyes pin you in place.

The bright blues belong to a woman who looks like a cross between a soldier and a viking. She’s armed to the teeth, at least 4 knives visible on her person as well as a pistol in her holster and an assault rifle slung over her shoulder. Her dark green tank top is slightly stained with something that could either be mud or old blood, there is dirt brushed over the entirety of her cargo pants, and her military-grade boots have left definite marks behind her to the door. The pale skin of her defined arms have a myriad of scars, all looking no more than 2 years old. The lower half of her scalp is shaven low and the upper half is pulled together in a long, ginger braid that reaches between her shoulder blades. Her eyes are striking and intense, shocking you still much more than Eddie’s surprised expression.

Breaking the stand off, you take a few steps closer to the edge of the living room. “You must be Red,” you offer your name to her along with your hand.

“Max. Not Red,” is her only response, ignoring the hand you’d held out to her in favor of turning back to Eddie. “Just because you leave a little love letter whenever you’re going out doesn’t mean I have to.”

Eddie nervously glances between where you’re slowly lowering your hand and the badass staring him down. “You don’t have to. It just would be nice to have an idea of where you are, and when you’re going to be back.”

Her arms cross tight over his chest. “So you don’t trust me.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth.” Eddie pushes to his feet, his jaw set tight. “It has nothing to do with if I trust you or me thinking you’re not capable or something. You obviously are more than capable of taking care of yourself. It’s just…”

“It’s just what, Eddie?”

Her cold tone settles into the shadows of the room, making the air feel thicker and the temperature drop significantly. It sets you on edge, your muscles tightening and your posture straightening on instinct. It has the opposite effect on Eddie. The weariness from last night reappears; his shoulders slightly rolling forward, his presence getting smaller under her stare. It seems completely out of character for him to shrink this way to anyone at all, to bend to someone else’s will so hastily.

“And if you get him killed, Max will hunt you down.”

Dustin’s warning echoes back to you in the tense silence. Understanding that this human weapon is Max, and that she would kill if anything happened to Eddie, is enough to make you second guess any leniency you had felt toward his warning. This person looks like she could tear you apart and not even break a sweat.

“Forget it. Just think about it, okay?”

The defeat in his tone, how he breaks eye contact from her staredown, seems to be enough to make her soften. “Okay,” she acquiesces, dropping the assault rifle down to lean against the wall beside the couch. She glances back to where you still stand before tipping her head back and rolling her shoulders. “I’m gonna go get some sleep.” She pushes past you, trailing tan dust the entire way, before the right side door shuts behind her.

Eddie drags a hand down his face, taking a deep breath before setting his posture straight again. “Did we wake you?” He asks, his tone dry despite the thoughtful question.

“Oh, no,” you take a few steps closer to the couch, carefully stepping over the trail of dirt Max left along the floor. “I woke up first, heard the talking after.” He nods slowly, dropping back to sit on the edge of the couch. “How did you sleep?”

The question seems to catch him off guard. “Fine.”

You decide to take another chance. “No back pain?”

His exhausted expression shifts to one of disbelief, before he cracks a smile against his will. “Smart ass.” Grateful to have gotten him to smile, no matter how unwillingly, you plop down on the other side of the couch. “I need to meet up with some people today. Around town. Make some trades, get supplies for the rest of the trip.”

“Okay, sounds good.” You can feel his stare into the side of your face, a tingling warmth across your skin. “What? What is it?”

“What’re you going to do?”

I thought I was going with you. 

Turns out you will need to fend for yourself.

You last about 15 minutes alone in the apartment. Well, not alone. But Max definitely wasn’t showing any time soon. So you got dressed and went out.

“Hey! You’re the girl who was with Eddie yesterday right?”

Halfway to where you’d met Maggie yesterday, you’re intercepted by a blonde woman. Her hair is long, pin straight, pulled back in a ponytail. Alabaster skin, high cheekbones, hazel eyes. Looks like every prom queen you would see in every 90s movie. The IT girl. The beauty pageant winner. She’s wearing a yellow floral dress that reaches down below her knees but is slightly hitched up in the front from where it’s draped over her extended stomach. One hand rests on the bump while the other extends toward you. “I’m Sadie.”

“Like, the dance?” You ask through a laugh, giving her a hesitant handshake.

“It would be funny if my last name was Hawkins.”

Sadie explains she heard about you from Maggie and that she was just ‘waddling’ over to sit with her for a few hours. “You should come join us! Unless you had something you needed to get to?”

Her smile is warm, welcoming. You’d read in books and screenplays that people sometimes described pregnant people as ‘glowing’, and looking at Sadie now… You can see why. “That’s so nice of you to offer. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay, but I will definitely walk over there with you.”

You end up staying half the day. There’s an empty stall opposite Maggie’s kitchen with two chairs, one for you and one for her. Turns out Sadie is a talker. A bit like Dustin in that way. She doesn’t ask a lot of questions, doesn’t care too much for if you participate or not. She’s happy to just keep talking. Endlessly going on about life in Memphis, the push and pull of the local groups, who has been rumored to be cavorting with who. You obviously don't know any of these people, but it’s still fun to listen to her gossip. Quantico was a small community, mostly people who all already lived on base before the pandemic hit. There wasn’t a lot of drama or gossip. They almost never brought in new people and there wasn’t a lot of disagreement within the people who were there.

At least, not at first.

“So, what are you doing with Eddie?” Sadie asks, after spending almost 2 hours waxing on and on about the life and times of Memphis.

You’ve been listening and people watching for so long, you almost miss your cue to speak. “He’s, uh, he’s helping me travel. To meet up with family.”

“Oh!” Her smile is bright and full of awe. “That’s so sweet. How long has it been since you’ve seen them? The person you’re going to meet.”

How do you say 'I’ve never actually seen her before'?

“A long time.”

She ‘aww’s, dainty hand gripping your forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Well, that’s amazing. Family is so important, and it can be so hard to stick together in times like these.”

Times like these? Is she for real?

“Yeah, that’s true. How, uh, how do you know Eddie?”

You’re desperate to get the subject back off of you and she seems more than happy to explain. “Everyone around here knows Eddie. He’s the sweetest guy, always so helpful. He runs errands for people all the time. Even the officers. I swear, so many people owe him favors, he could run this whole place if he really wanted to.” Sweet and helpful? “Him and that woman he lives with, with the red hair? Now she’s a brick. Scares me a bit, honestly. It really is a shame what happened. She was so full of life before.”

“What do you mean? What happened?”

She looks at you surprised, like she thought you would have already known. “It’s really not my place to tell. I’ve already said too much, I think.” She laughs nervously, rubbing a hand over her bump. Sure didn’t stop you when you were telling me about how Louise is juggling 3 men and none of them know it.

“Yeah, sure,” you cast your gaze back toward Maggie’s kitchen. There’s a walking path between where you’re sitting and the window that has been busy all day, people going this way and that. This market seems to be a big hub of the QZ, at least from what you’ve seen of it. You’ve listened to people trading all day, others talking about different things over bowls of Maggie’s stew of the day. Most of the eavesdropping you’d done had been much more interesting than Sadie after a while. Whispers of ration deliveries coming through less and less often. Some of the upper level FEDRA officers having meetings more often than they normally do. Nothing that is especially salacious, but apparently it’s enough to put some more paranoid people on edge.

Another hour or two passes of half listening to Sadie and half listening to the conversations around you before Eddie appears. He doesn’t notice you at first, walking up to Maggie’s door just like he did yesterday and calling her over. Her and Gus both step up and the three of them lean their heads toward each other, speaking low as Eddie pulls a set of folded papers out of his pocket and starts pointing things out to them. You sit up straighter, focusing in on them to see if you can catch a word or two on what they’re discussing, but you can’t hear anything over Sadie and the people walking between.

Warm, brown eyes meet yours before you can look away. His eyebrows draw together on his forehead, gaze flicking from you, to Sadie, and then back. There’s an obvious question in his expression, but Gus brings his attention back before you can figure out what it might be. “Oh, Eddie,” Sadie says, tapping her hand against your shoulder like you hadn’t already noticed him standing there. You give her a polite nod and smile then settle back into your plastic lawn chair. The trio only speaks for a few more minutes before Gus takes the papers from Eddie and both him and Maggie disappear back into the kitchen. “Eddie!” Sadie calls when she sees him free, waving happily to try to get his attention.

He tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, a dark wash compared to the light blue bootcuts he was wearing when you met him, and makes the few steps toward you both. He is wearing a black and red tie dye t-shirt, a white linen button up layered over it with the sleeves rolled up, showing off the scarred skin of his forearms. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail today, though it has a bit more life in it now that it’s been washed. The waves have a bit more definition, fluff up a bit more. It makes him look a bit boyish, more casual than the wolf you’d been traveling with so far. Like being in Memphis makes him softer, more relaxed.

“Afternoon,” he says once he’s passed the walking path. He eyes you both warily, like it makes him uncomfortable to see the two of you sitting together. Given Sadie’s propensity to run her mouth, you can’t blame him, though you can’t say you really learned too much about him or about Max.

“It’s nice to see you, Eddie. How long are you in town for?” Sadie’s smile is just as warm as it was towards you, her voice just as sweet, but for some reason having that same warmth directed toward Eddie makes the boil in your blood kick on.

He shifts from one foot to the other, glancing toward you again before he returns to her. “Only a day or two. We have to get on the road again, just stopped in town to stock up. And I had a delivery for Ahmed.”

“Yeah, she was just telling me you’re helping her travel to meet up with her family,” she squeezes your forearm gently again. “It’s good to hear nice stories like that, seems like everything is so sad nowadays.” He nods, breaking eye contact to look out over the market. “And it sure is lucky you ended up being back in town for the bonfire tonight.”

“Bonfire?” You ask, crossing your ankles over each other as you lean toward her another few inches.

Her expression is once again absolute delight. “Every month or so, we have a big bonfire down at Fourth Bluff Park. Everyone brings what they can, like a big potluck, and there’s music and dancing and everything. It’s the one time the officers get lenient with curfew – as long as nobody gets too rowdy.” Her bright eyes look between you and Eddie, now pleading. “You’re both coming, aren’t you?”

So when the sun starts to set, you find yourself walking side by side with Eddie toward the already roaring bonfire in the distance.

“Do you go to these things often?”

Eddie keeps several inches between the two of you as you walk, arms crossed over his chest. “Try to. Free food, free booze.”

You can’t help but perk up interest. “Free booze?”

He chuckles, his ponytail bobbing as he shakes his head. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not good booze.”

“Well… Any booze is good booze. At least in my opinion.” He hums an acknowledgement, side stepping out of the way when two kids run past you both in the opposite direction. “Are you planning on drinking tonight?”

His head tilts toward you, the fire already reflecting in his eyes despite the distance. “No, not tonight. But if you want to, by all means –”

“No, no.” You’re quick to interrupt, waving your hands in front of you in denial. “I don’t think so. Y’know, unfamiliar place and all.”

“Oh. Yeah, makes sense.” He kicks a rock out of his path, arms falling to his sides as you both get closer. “Seemed pretty comfortable with Sadie earlier though.”

It’s your turn to look him over. You can’t place how he feels about it, but the fact that he’s bringing it up now only reinforces the idea that he was uncomfortable when you were talking with her. “She’s sweet. Had a lot of nice things to say about you.”

A hand comes up to rub at the side of his scruff, his next breath long and loud. “Yeah, she has a kind heart for sure. Talkative too.”

“Absolutely,” you can’t help but smile, “I think I know the gossip of half the town now. Doesn’t do me much good when I don’t know anyone but… Suppose knowledge can be power.” You think back to what she said about Eddie, about how much power he wields here just by having so many people owe him favors. But, from what you can tell, he isn’t loud about that fact. He doesn’t run around flaunting it or acting high and mighty. If anything, it almost feels secretive. Something everyone knows but no one talks about. A silent power, a quiet force that works in the shadows. Hidden, but not invisible. Waiting for the right moment to collect.

“You’d think that but then you have Sadie, who knows a lot about a lot of people and…” He trails off, leaving the implication to hang there. Like he’s nervous to say it.

You’re not. “She is not the brightest bulb, that’s for sure.”

Eddie laughs, rocking back away from you with the force of it, a barking laugh that hits him expectedly. It’s louder than you were expecting but also makes it that much sweeter to hear. “No she is not.” He agrees once his laughter dies down. But his smile stays all the way up to the large group of people around the bonfire.

You’ve barely arrived before Libby seems to appear out of nowhere, grabbing at Eddie’s hands and trying to drag him away. He casts you a glance that you read as requesting your approval, and you wave him off. He lets the hyperactive girl lead him towards the tables of food. It isn’t long until Sadie finds you, looping her arm through your own and pulling you over toward a group of people laughing and talking. A drink is placed into your hand, one you smell and quickly assign as watered down piss-whiskey, so you nod a thanks and just hold it to have something to do with your hands. No one seems to pay you any mind beyond offering a polite nod of greeting, they all settle into a flow of familiar back and forth between friends.

It feels strange. To be in a community like this, to be around people like this. Laughing and talking and shooting the shit. It reminds you of how you felt when you saw Dustin and Eddie goofing around – this unfamiliarity with the comradery of it. A nagging feeling in the back of your head that it’s irrational to live like this, silly to let your guard down, irresponsible and unrealistic. How do these people act like everything is fine? Like they’re happy to live like this?

The squeal of a fiddle has you spinning on your heel toward the bonfire behind you. Across the way, a group is forming. People pulling together crates and turning over buckets to gather close together. A brunette drags her bow across the fiddle resting on her shoulder, a man holding a homemade banjo beside her, another setting up a hollowed out wooden box and sitting down right on top of it. An older woman settles onto a bucket with an acoustic guitar as a few other people with various instruments gather. The woman on the fiddle leads them into a tune, one you’re not even sure is an actual song, but they all seem to pick it up just the same.

Before too long a few couples have walked out in the space in front of the band, spinning their partners and getting into dances. A group of 4 kids runs over, linking their hands together, and starts to laugh and spin in a circle between the pairs. More people join the fray, enough to block your view. You whisper to Sadie that you’ll be back and part from the group to try to get a better view of the people playing.

You weave through the crowd and closer to that side of the circle, trying to dodge people swaying to the music or laughing boisterously and walking into your way. Half of the people you pass already seem intoxicated on the same piss that's in your cup, and it makes you shudder to think of how much of it they would’ve had to drink to even get buzzed. You find a good enough spot to watch the dancing and the players, standing off to the side, but almost jump out of your skin when someone clears their throat beside you.

Max is wearing a black hoodie over a pair of jeans, her hair down to cover the undercut. She looks so different here than the warrior you encountered this morning, her hands tucked into the pocket of her hoodie. “Hey,” she offers, barely any inflection applied.

“Hey.” She dips her head at your reply, barely an acknowledgement, before she sets her eyes back on the dancing again. You do the same, standing side by side for a while, just quietly watching the party happen around you.

Without warning, you see a few people presenting Eddie to the group of musicians. They greet him heartily, hands clapping on backs and all smiles as he interacts with them. He looks a bit like he’s trying to make a getaway, but it’s unsuccessful. A set of hands forces him down onto a wooden crate and an acoustic guitar is deposited into his hands. He runs the tips of his fingers along the strings, an easy smile growing on his face as the man on the wooden drum leans in to speak to him. From this distance, you can barely see him roll his eyes before nodding to agree. A murmur passes through the group, heads nodding and confirming before the tune they were still idly keeping up comes to a stop.

Eddie counts them off, giving 8 beats before he starts to strum. It’s a rhythmic back and forth across the strings, 4 or 5 times before the banjo plucks a 3 beat tune. The man on the wooden box bends forward and begins to tap his palm against the side, a heart beat that keeps with the melody of the banjo.

I come fresh from the street, fast on my feet Kinda crass and corny Not much meat on my bones and a whole lot alone And more than a little bit horny

A cheer rings out as Eddie starts to sing, his deep baritone ringing out in the clearing. There’s another whooping when he says the word ‘horny’, which sends him into laughs, almost missing his next cue to sing.

The old six string was all I had To keep my belly still And for each full hour lesson I gave I got a crisp ten dollar bill

You can’t take your eyes off of him. He keeps up the strumming as his eyes close, his neck extending as he sings loud and proud. The people around look on fondly, like they’re used to seeing this, like they look forward to when Eddie joins in with the band. You can’t blame them. It looks so natural to see a guitar in his hands, foot tapping, head shaking as he continues to sing. He interacts with the other people playing, leaning this way and that, even goading on the people dancing.

She said, "I wanna learn a lovе song, Full of happy things" She said, "I wanna learn a love song, Won't you let me hear you sing?" She said, "I wanna learn a love song, I wanna hear you play" She said, "I wanna learn a love song, Before you go away"

“He’s really good,” you admit, mostly to yourself. 

“Yeah, always has been.” When you look over at Max, she has a soft smile on her face. The first you’ve seen from the brief interactions you’ve had with her. “Used to be in a band and everything.”

The idea makes you smile – Eddie up on a stage, giving his all to a crowd of happy fans. Just like he is now, completely at ease and not even realizing he has the attention of almost everyone around. “That doesn’t surprise me at all.”

Eddie plays a few more songs with the band, singing all the while, before he excuses himself. There are some claps and cheers as he stands to leave and he treats them with a dramatic bow, earning himself a few wolf whistles. He makes it a few feet away before he spots you and Max in the crowd, his face brightening in recognition before he starts walking over. There’s an ease to how he moves now. Everything about him seems lighter than you’ve seen him so far.

“You’ve got some talent, Munson, I’ll give you that.”

He laughs again, the 3rd time you’ve gotten him to laugh today, as he comes to a stop before you both. “High praise.” It’s a sarcastic reply, but there’s still a dusting of pink across his cheekbones that might not be entirely from the exertion and the heat of the fire. “Hey Red.”

She jerks her head up in greeting. “I cleaned up the dirt I tracked in. Didn’t want to upset your delicate sensibilities.” You aren’t quick enough to catch the snort, bringing your free hand up to try to hide your smile.

“You’re so generous,” he deadpans back, though it’s hard to deny the smile that splits his lips. “Actually, I’m glad I caught you,” he directs back toward you. “I have to go back to the apartment to get something for a deal. Didn’t want to disappear without saying anything.”

“You mind if I tag along?” You find yourself asking without really thinking. “I could use the air.”

He looks surprised, wide eyes blinking a few times. “Oh, yeah, sure.” He looks expectantly over at Max, who waves him off.

“I’ll hang around here. See if I can get some of Mag’s pineapple upside down cake.” He nods, mumbling something about not blaming her, before he motions for you to push through the crowd first.

The further you get from the bonfire, the chiller the air becomes. Your jacket, which almost felt like too much by the flames, is now a welcome warmth as you walk with Eddie back the way you came. There’s almost no one around here, assuming most people are either at home or over with the party, so you walk together down empty and barely lit streets.

“Max said you were in a band.”

He groans goodnaturedly, as if he's embarrassed. “Yeah, before all this. Played guitar.”

You tuck your hands into the pockets of your jacket, your elbow brushing his on accident. “Your band have a name?”

“Corroded Coffin.”

It takes everything in you to try to hold in the laugh. “Sounds… Edgy.”

He rolls his eyes, knocking his elbow against yours on purpose this time. “It was very metal, thank you very much.”

“I’m sure it was,” you concede. The two of you settle into a companionable silence as you walk the now-recognizable path toward the Claridge House. He stands taller than he did earlier, looks happier. This Eddie is a far cry from the weary one you encountered last night and this morning. Was it being at home, around people he knew that made him feel this light? Or was it the opportunity to play for the crowd that lifted the weight off his shoulders?

After holding the door open for you again, the two of you climb up to the 4th floor and walk the carpet down toward apartment 413. Another bulb or two has gone out, along with another that flickers overhead. It makes the shadows stretch longer, look sharper as they press in toward the light. Still, you don’t find yourself checking corners like you did when you arrived yesterday. While not entirely at ease, it does feel a bit safer than it did before. You wait to the side while Eddie fishes the keys out of his pocket and pushes inside. He crosses the living room to flick on the lamp while you close the door behind you. “Should be just a minute, then we can head back.”

“Take your time,” you assure him, not actually in a hurry to go back. It had been a bit overwhelming at first. But really, the thing that stuck with you was this feeling of foreboding. Something you hadn’t been able to shake for years. This feeling that something bad was going to happen, something bad always happens, though you didn’t know what or when. Something about the bonfire made that feeling more intense. Either because it all seemed too good to be true or because it reminded you how unwilling you were to accept that maybe it was just good. Maybe something could just be good. Maybe it wasn’t all just going to hurt in the end.

Eddie rounds the corner from the kitchen, presenting an unmarked container with a smile, right when the apartment goes dark. The lamp, the nightlight in the hallway, the street light that slightly shone in the living room windows. They all flick off at once and send you both into darkness.

That’s the only warning you get before the blaring horn of alarms sound outside.

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thanks for reading and for giving so much love on part 1 and the masterlist!! if you liked this part, please give it a reblog and leave a comment if you can :)

[sunnytyun]

Songs that remind me of JJK characters

satoru gojo

"all i wanna hear is you say daddy's home."

suguru geto

"watch my 9 mm go bang."

nanami kento

"think i need someone older, just a little bit colder."

megumi fushiguro

"with your hand in my hand and a pocket full of soul, i could tell you there's no place we couldn't go."

yuji itadori

"i just wanna get high with my lover."

nobara kugisaki

"'grab a cop gun' kinda crazy, she's poison but tasty."

toji fushiguro

"i could be mom, unless you want to be dad."

ryomen sukuna

"i'm not fazed, only here to sin."

choso kamo

"if you wanna come, get my brother some."

[elvisslut]

Grades and results|| pt.1

Warnings- none really, strong language, liking a older man you’re hardly legal for

School had always come easy for you, always having a’s and being the good girl you are once it came to your responsibilities as a student. Starting this school year was exciting, waving happily to the other students as you walked through the halls. Everyone knew you and you knew everyone, they all seemed to love you even the people who were a little bit more harder to please. The football boys especially enjoyed you, you were like their best friend. Also having them as a protection plan..wasn’t so bad.

You smiled your way down to your new class that had the new teacher, once you walked in you seen him standing at his desk looking down at papers. His outfit was black with a pink scarf hardly hiding his chest. He was handsome there was no doubt about that but once he looked up at you, your idea of handsome changed. He was just plain gorgeous. A very gorgeous man.

“Hello” he said with a small smile. He had a accent to his word. Southern you believe but being in Memphis that wasn’t unusual. “Hi, sir..uh do you have a seat plan or can i just pick my own?” Your voice held innocence and he sensed that immediately looking you down and up then shaking his head. “Choose your own” he said looking back to the papers that were probably to be handed to the students later this hour.

You took a seat quite close to his desk and patiently waited for the other students to pile in, a few of the football players sat by you, quipping up a conversation with you about their summer. Davis was your main best friend, he and you just really clicked when you first started hanging around the team.

“Alright, hello everyone..’m mr.presley but outside of school i don’ like formalities so call me elvis. Only outside of school” he says sternly, you liked that name. It had a great ring to it. He was quick to get into giving out work sheets and lectures. He was quite harsh with people especially if they interrupted him.

“Miss..” he sighs and shoves his hand in his pocket going to the seat of the girl talking. You look back at him to see his ass perfectly framed in the black pants. Your cheeks redden up before you look away closing your eyes and swallow back. You’d just stared at your teachers ass and you were bot about to apologize for that amazing sight you got.

You never thought you’d find any teacher attractive but here you are blushing over a man you don’t even really know. “Thank ya. Now shut your damn mouth” he says, you frown and look back at him again to see him heading back towards his desk. You’ve never heard a teacher be so strong with their words, but in all honesty you found it quite attractive.

The class was quick to end and you gathered your stuff looking up as you heard a cough infront of your desk. “Oh-..hi mr.Presley.” You say a smile growing on your lips. “‘M goin’ to need ya to stay back” your smile fades a bit. “But sir..I’ve gotta go to the elementary to help with the pre-school kids..” he frowns and crosses his arms. “W-what is it you needed mr.Presley?” You ask feeling bad about not being able to stay.

“I don’ know my way around the school all that much and ya seem like ya’d know” he looks away then goes to his desk silently, you did feel bad and to be around him longer would be quite the experience. “I can show you around after my last class. I just cant be late i got something to do to help the teachers in the classes” he looks back to you and nods staying silent. You smile and skip out of his class heading towards the elementary side of the school.

“Miss Y/n!” You hear a few small voices yell as you go through the kindergarten hall. You look back and smile hugging the kids as they come up to you. “Hey guys, you have a good day so far?” Earning nods and ‘yes’s from them. “Good. I have to go to mrs.Holly’s class.. you guy be good okay?” You happily say standing up fully and going to the class you’re supposed to help in.

They day went by fast and before you knew it you found yourself walking back to mr.Presleys class. He had his feet kicked up on the desk and..sunglasses? No his face reading a paper his thumb on his lip. Your lips part slightly as you look at his position. “Hi sir. You ready for your tour?” You ask getting his attention. He sighs and puts his feet down, setting his glasses and papers down on the desk and standing. “Yeah lets get this over with” he nods walking towards you, scooting past you out the door. You showed him the more important things before taking him to the other classes taking him to the hot shots class first. Ms.noel. Once you stepped foot in the class you can tell she caught his attention. She was perfect how could he not. Her body just seemed to fit everyone’s standards and really..it gave you some insecurities. “Mr...presley? I believe? I've heard about you around school all day” she says walking towards him.

You could tell she was into him too really you had some jealousy and it confused you as to why. “I was just showing him around” you speak up with a smile. Elvis looks to you and quirks up a brow. “I got it from here” he shorts. It kinda broke your heart that he was blowing off your tour for ms.noel. “Yeah? Well let me..show you some students” she says, you nod to yourself and leave the classroom. You might be clueless to alot of things but you knew what sex was you knew that’s definitely the look he had in his eyes to ms.noel.

The next day as you walked into mr.Presleys class ms.noel was there feeling all up on his exposed chest. That had to be against dress code. “Morning” you say happily, sitting at your seat. Ms.noel looks to you and pulls her hands away from mr.Presley pressing a kiss to his chest and leaving to her class.

“Mornin’” he huffs grabbing a stack of papers and pulling one from it. He goes to your desk and lays it down. ‘F meet me after school’ a F? Youve never gotten a F..your mama would be real disappointed if she saw this…hopefully you can redo it.

Tags: @elvispresleygf @elvisalltheway101 @emma181873

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: September 23, 2024

Reworked Character #3: Eri Kasamoto

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to abandonment, abuse, underage drinking, crime, an unhealthy romance, death, and SA.

Real name: Chizuko Kawaguchi

Alias: Memphis Bomb Princess

Occupation: Staff Sergeant of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., Ptolemaios’ second-in-command (formerly), and the leader of a street gang (formerly)

Retirement plans: Open up an inclusive orphanage in Hiroshima

Special skills: Orchestrating stealth missions and suppression operations, proficiency in explosives, survival techniques, lock picking, and seduction

Hobbies: Swimming, kickboxing, building explosive gadgets, thinking about her past mistakes and what she could’ve done better during her solitary nature walks, and playing card games with her friends that include some sort of money-related bet

Likes: Fio, pyrotechnics, aimless walks, vintage religious memorabilia, and a keychain that was gifted to her by Emily

Dislikes: Blissful ignorance, overly mischievous, lazy, and hot-headed people, riding in vehicles she isn’t able to drive, being touched without permission, and cults

Favourite drink: Vodka

Sexuality: Homoflexible sapiosexual

Gender: Female

Age: 16 (in 2022), 22 (in 2028), 24 (in 2030), 26 (in 2032), 28 (in 2034), 35 (in 2041), 37 (in 2043), 38 (in 2044), and 41 (in 2047)

Blood type: B-

Weight: 126 lbs. (57 kg)

Design: She’s a 5’ 6” (167.64 cm) Japanese ectomorph with an athletic, sylph-like build, broad shoulders, sand-hued skin, a black mole under her right eye, and top scars. She has dark brown eyes with visible bags beneath them and fingernails that are painted a metallic green. She has jet black hair with choppy bangs that has been bleached dirty blonde and is styled in a mid-back shaggy wolf cut, often worn up in a ponytail. Eri has a jarring diagonal scar that runs from the left side of her temple, across the bridge of her nose, to her right levator scapulae muscle. She also has stab scars on the palm of her right hand, cut marks on her right forearm, the skin on her arms and shoulders have been picked at, and her legs are riddled with scrapes. She lost her left forearm in a traumatic incident, later receiving a metallic silver prosthetic replacement from Ptolemaios during her training. She dons green gold snake bite and silver jestrum piercings, and her makeup features a glittery artichoke green smoky eyeliner, light brown mascara, and coral pink lips.

Eri’s military gear consists of an olive green bandana on her head, a metal dog tag necklace with her name, and a black headset for communication with her snipers. She wears a black bra, myrtle-hued sleeveless button midriff, and a satin crimson sash. She wears a purplish-grey unbuttoned coat with ripped sleeves, four pockets, and a hidden strap compartment that holds her electrical baton. On the back of her jacket is the logo of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., which Fio kindly embroidered for her. Her purplish-grey army cargo pants were tucked into black combat boots and held up by a silver-buckled dark teal belt around her waist. She has a sheath for her combat knife and a drop leg holster for her handgun with a silencer.

She wears a black gas mask with red-tinted lenses, olive green gloves, black knee and elbow pads, and sage-streaked silver tassel earrings. She wears a keychain necklace, a gift from her late girlfriend Emily, featuring a fiery comet encircling a reddish-purple amethyst stone carved into the shape of a human heart. Eri is adorned with two black steel armlets, one on each arm: the right armlet has a circular green crystal at its centre, while the left armlet has a red one. The green crystal grants her the power to unleash grey lightning, while the red crystal, forged from a fragment of Sol Dae Rokker, can summon deadly, wolf-shaped spirits that dive-bomb enemies.

Over her midriff, she dons a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries around her walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. She carries around a sage green load-bearing backpack that contains camping equipment, grenades, fire bombs, mines, hand-crafted explosive gadgets, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, three canisters of gasoline, a rocket launcher, and a bottle of vodka. Her olive green waist pack, secured at the back of her belt, holds a silvery flask of vodka, a matchbox, and a compact makeup kit containing her eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss. The pockets of her coat contain a pack of fruity bubblegum, a navy blue lighter, a rainbow-coloured bouncy ball, a deck of playing cards, and her lucky gold Kaiki Shoho coin. Meanwhile, her cargo pants hold lockpicking tools and three boxes of cigarettes. She has worn gauze wrapped around her right forearm, a gun holster for her handgun, and a sheath for her machete. She's still in possession of a Ptolemaic Army-commissioned scoped bolt-action rifle, which is often draped over her left shoulder.

Personality: She's a vengeful, sarcastic, cynical, and tomboyish leader who will stop at nothing to brutally hurt anyone she perceives as a threat to her comrades and friends or have caused them genuine harm. She has a sadistic streak, evident in her peculiar habit of smearing her enemies' blood on herself to intimidate others. When focused on her military duties and protecting those she respects and cares about, she tends to neglect her own needs. Eri's outspoken and crass demeanour shows no fear in speaking her mind, telling others off, and using profanities. As a self-reliant and lonesome individual, she’s bitter and aloof towards those she dislikes and strangers. She has a tendency to engage in dishonest behaviour and manipulate situations to her advantage. When confronted about these actions, she often responds with aggressive language and contradictory arguments. She holds immense respect for the deities, particularly Sol Dae Rokker, and will go to great lengths to worship and make sacrifices to them, often ritually sacrificing the remains of her enemies and indulging in orgies with her team of Ptolemaic rebels.

She fearlessly rebels against anything she deems morally wrong or a life-threatening risk. She shows no mercy towards her enemies, and her military missions showcase her exceptional resourcefulness, cunning, and tactical prowess. She's capable of sympathy and offering wise advice, but her willingness to do so greatly depends on the situation and her personal connection with the individual. She has immense compassion for those who endured a difficult childhood and does her best to offer comfort and support.

Eri regards her team of Ptolemaic deserters, Fio of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., Marco and Trevor of the P.F. Squad, Ralf and Clark, the top dogs of the Ikari Warriors, Tequila, Red Eye, and Hyakutaro, Tyra, and Walter of Division 6 as family. She’s overprotective of Fio, whom she regards with sisterly affection, and Marco, whom she views as a courageous leader who deserves comfort and sympathy. She harbours significant animosity towards Tarma, seeing him as a hot-headed idiot who only causes trouble and can't take things seriously. Despite her best efforts to tolerate him, she can't help but snap at him when his silly antics go too far, he inadvertently ruins a plan or he gets too flirtatious and physically close to Fio.

She lives with claustrophobia, mild social anxiety, insomnia, atypical depression, and borderline personality disorder. To cope with her mental health struggles, she often presents herself as highly intelligent, serious-minded, and seductive. However, when anger takes hold, her emotions can be difficult to contain, although she strives to maintain some self-control. Notably, Eri prefers not to be called by her old name as it evokes memories of her past trauma, which she’s trying to desperately forget. She's a hardened pessimist, often appearing mentally exhausted and emotionally unfazed, yet she consistently demonstrates resilience and stubborn determination. She can't help but feel jealous towards those who have loving parents and weren't abandoned by them. When she's had too much to drink, she becomes prone to argumentativeness, physical aggression, and melancholy, and often sleepwalks.

She has a deep-seated distrust of Christianity, believing that many people hypocritically exploit God and Jesus' teachings to conceal their true intentions. She also thinks that certain Christian teachings clash with the harsh realities of life. Furthermore, she believes that God seems apathetic to humanity's well-being, watching them suffer endlessly, letting evil to continuously flourish, and restricting the potential for salvation. She holds that morality is culturally relative, and therefore, there are no universal moral laws, making it challenging to distinguish right from wrong.

In her view, human societies construct their values based on their distinct beliefs, customs, and practices, which are also influenced by social and emotional pressures. She believes that individuals have a moral obligation to protect innocent lives and uphold the goodness inherent in justice. Regarding war, she thinks it can be justified if it meets certain criteria: it’s openly declared by a governing authority, has a just cause, and aims to establish a lasting peace. She acknowledges the coexistence of life and death but does not see a clear connection between the two.

Backstory: Chizuko Kawaguchi was born on June 6, 2006 in Hiroshima, Japan. She was abandoned as an infant at the entrance of a Christian church by her parents, who had wanted a son instead of a baby girl. Her name was discovered on a piece of paper tucked inside her baby carriage. She was raised by the Christian church where she was sent to live, an institution with a strict religious environment. There, children who misbehaved were subjected to psychological reprimands. During Chizuko’s younger years, she acted out as an attention-seeking troublemaker, but was frequently punished through humiliation and isolation in a dark closet.

She would be frequently bullied by children who were considered to be well-behaved and good in the eyes of the church staff. They targeted her for her perceived sinfulness by spreading false rumours about her, belittling her, and vandalising her toys. She endured occasional physical abuse and emotional manipulation by the church orphanage staff who used the threat of eternal damnation to control her behaviour. This treatment had a profound effect on her, making her quiet, nervous, and obedient. As a result, she grew to resent the church, finding its teachings to be at odds with the harsh realities of her own life. She eventually lost faith in God, feeling that He seemed indifferent to human suffering, allowing it to persist without genuine intervention or care.

At the age of 6, Chizuko met Tarma and quickly befriended him after building a sandcastle and searching for worms under a heavy rock. This chance encounter taught her that there were kind people outside of her church community, and she had opportunities to form new connections and discover herself. She met up with Tarma a few more times until he stopped visiting Hiroshima, leaving her feeling alone and sorrowful.

Once she figured out the ways of the world, she escaped from the sanctuary of the church at the age of 12, alongside a small group of friends, eager to taste the forbidden fruit of the world. Seeking vengeance, she and her friends burned down the church orphanage in retaliation for the abuse they had endured. Most of her early life remains private. However, her invigorating and tomboyish nature lended her as a capable leader, founding a gang of street kids. They engaged in criminal activities, primarily petty theft, drug sales, weapon trafficking, and murder.

Details about this period are scarce, but it's known that Chizuko developed a fondness for vodka during this time. She narrowly escaped being taken into custody by the police through financial bribes, avoiding a potential juvenile detention. She would also go through a couple of romantic relationships with girls. Her first relationship was short-lived after she quickly discovered that her girlfriend was using her for financial gain. Her second relationship seemed to be going well, but it ended when her girlfriend's parents found out about her being a delinquent and forbade their daughter from seeing her again.

At 15, she reunited with Tarma after he ran away from home, inviting him to hang out and drink beer and vodka. As they caught up on each other's lives, she began to flirt and get physically close, seeing him as someone she could trust. However, Chizuko’s desire to escape the past and run away from her problems clouded her judgement. They spent many nights together, engaging in erotic activities, and she even convinced him to participate in a few crimes. But everything changed when Tarma abruptly ended things and returned home to Hokkaido. Devastated, she felt betrayed, despite having used him to fulfill her own desires and advance her gang interests. This experience explains her lingering animosity towards Tarma.

Her leadership skills and her gang had continued to grow successfully, but that success was short-lived. Two months before she turned 18, Hiroshima was suddenly attacked by multiple bombings from a mysterious group, resulting in the loss of thousands of lives, including her entire gang—her first true friends. This incident sent the Japanese populace into a deep state of panic and uncertainty. In the chaos, she also suffered a devastating injury, losing her left forearm. With quick thinking, she managed to improvise a tourniquet by tearing the sleeves of her medium-sleeved shirt and stemming the bleeding.

While treating her injury, she was approached by a brown-haired, grey-eyed woman wearing the attire of a Ptolemaic guerilla. This guerrilla fighter didn't want to leave Chizuko behind, knowing she would feel terrible if left alone. So, she convinced Chizuko to come with her to meet up with Ptolemaios. Chizuko was hesitant at first, but with no other options, she took the opportunity. The guerrilla introduced herself as Emily Kuznetsova, and Chizuko decided to adopt a new name: Eri Kasamoto.

Unbeknownst to her, Ptolemaios had been observing Eri for some time, recognizing her potential as a valuable asset for his army. She was first showered with excessive attention and affection by Ptolemaios' most devoted followers. Afterwards, they subjected her to an initiation ritual where she was forced to consume the heart of a deceased baby goat in the name of the Dark Lord and drink Ptolemaios' blood. He took steps to provide her with specialised training to enhance her skills in espionage and further develop her militant abilities. Once she received a sufficient amount of training, he wasn't hesitant to make her his second-in-command, which stirred some jealousy amongst the commanding officers of the Ptolemaic Army. On his behalf, she was responsible for multiple stealth missions to further the technological advancement and tactical plans of the Ptolemaic Army.

During this time, Emily's compassionate and courageous nature won Eri over, and she developed a strong romantic attraction towards her, which would eventually blossom into a full-blown relationship. Ptolemaios viewed Emily as a potential obstacle to his objectives and sought to eliminate her, motivated in part by his suppressed and secret sexual attraction to Eri. Emily's death was staged to appear as a suicide, with the circumstances surrounding it unclear. Eri was even sexually assaulted by a few commanding officers as Ptolemaios hoped that this would instill more fear in her and deter her from leaving.

However, these two events had a profound impact on Eri, leading to feelings of grief and anger, and prompting her to re-evaluate her involvement with the Ptolemaic Army. She assembled a group of individuals who shared her desire to challenge Ptolemaios' authority. The group consisted of six guerrilla troops: Mikuláš, Ji-Yeong, Konrad, Dezső, Sipho, and Harvie; four snipers: Amilcare, Diomedes, Souma, and Manouel; and eight special forces operatives: Kemalettin, Jaroslavas, Dermot, Agenor, Shelomit, Franjo, Prabhakar, and Radovan.

During their fight against the Ptolemaic Army, they caused major setbacks and killed off many soldiers and cultists. As Eri fought against Ptolemaios, she learned that he was responsible for conducting the terrorist bombings in Hiroshima. She tried to end his life, but felt a malevolent presence stopping her from doing so, forcing her and her rebel Ptolemaic soldiers out of Ptolemaios' compound in Osaka, Japan. Shortly after this time, she ripped off the sleeves of her purplish-grey coat to use as tourniquets for a couple of her men. She also chose to acquire her top scars, her way of trying to forget the past, reject social norms placed on women and girls, and embrace her true identity.

At the age of 20, she and her team decided to apply for military service, working under the Intelligence Agency as a formidable group of agents. Eri made a name for herself in numerous missions, earning a reputation as a vengeful leader amongst the Regular Army. She was known for eliminating numerous individuals, including treacherous soldiers and corrupt politicians with some of her most notable assignments involving strategic seduction that lured her targets into vulnerable positions. However, she began to feel increasingly disillusioned by the constant assassinations and conspiracies that weighed on her conscience, reminding her of her time with the Ptolemaic Army. She applied for a transfer to S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., which was specially approved due to her exceptional record, indispensable skills, and intimate knowledge of the Ptolemaic Army's inner workings.

As the demolition and stealth expert of S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., Eri led her rebel Ptolemaic soldiers with immense success. She befriended Fio and felt an instant, deep connection after a few interactions, viewing Fio as the younger sister she never had and vowing to protect her at all costs. She played a crucial role in the Great Morden War by providing Marco's team with explosives, emergency rations, and valuable intel on Rebel Army positions through stealthy infiltration. Eri showcased her advanced combat and leadership skills by helping to thwart Morden's second coup, which was aided by her team, Fio, Tarma, and Marco.

[missmaywemeetagain]

Something Blue, A Pink Scarf Universe Story

A/N: Ohhh, so y'all forced this out of me, what with all the talk about the "Blue Scarf" and expanding the "Scarf Universe" thrown at me this week! 😂 (I hear you, I hear you!) Be careful what you wish for, lil' darlin's!! Honestly, though, I've known since I ended Pink Scarf that this was something that was going to happen in this particular way to our dear Reader and E, I just never knew if it was going to see the light of day. And with this week's prompt, all the inspiration and stars seemed to align at once on Sunday, so this came out rather quick and may be rough, and it's possible I might go back and tweak it later, but I'm happy with it for now. I hope this satiates you for the moment. I hope it gives you all the feels. And, yes, perhaps I may expand this little Blue Scarf into a series and include a spicy story or two later, if you all are good lil' babies for me. 😏 💙🧣💙 Let me know in the comments and reblogs...😉

Thanks always to my sister wives @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @be-my-ally and @vintageshanny for allowing me to skirt by late with this week's prompt. 😇

Prompt: “How are we going to solve this problem?”

Rating: PG (ish?) || Word Count: 2.7k

TW: Fluff, angst (always), infidelity (sort of??), no smut (so sorry loves)

Something Blue, A Pink Scarf Universe Story

August 1971

It’s fitting, you think, that today of all days, you’re wearing his blue silk scarf in your hair. Elvis hasn’t worn it much since that fateful summer a couple of years ago—and only for a few more shows and a couple nights out—so you had absconded with it and made it your own, as you’d managed to do with many of his things. You loved how it smelled of him, the silk doused in his musk and cologne, and how it reminded you of the not-wearing-a-shirt-under-a-jacket/jumpsuit phase he gone through that summer and fall of ‘69. Lord, you’d loved that phase. It had been so easy to lay him bare before you.

Heat floods your cheeks at the thought of what this particular scarf has seen between the two of you, and then at the fact that this might be the worst possible time for a thought like that to pop into your head. You know it’s the shock of the bomb that just dropped on your lives that has your brain short circuiting a little. Because neither of you ever expected this.

You nervously twist the platinum and diamonds on your ring finger, the ones which pledged his love for you in front of your family, friends, and the world. Thoughts fill your mind of your lovely, small wedding, how this scarf had been there for that important moment, too, tied around your waist, cinching your white dress—being both your “something borrowed” and your “something blue.” Elvis loved that you’d included it, this piece of him, as part of your gown.

He also loved untying it at the end of the night and letting it flutter to your feet with the rest of your dress.

It’s counterpart, the pink scarf, had been tucked into the pocket of his suit jacket, a little secret for you both. You’d enjoyed it, as well, later that night.

“Y/n, did y-you hear me? I-I-I-It’s me,” Elvis says, snapping you out of your memories, his hand lingering on the phone he’d just placed back on its cradle. “How are w-w-we going to solve this problem?”

The wavering fear in his voice is palpable and in any other circumstance it might scare you, but a strange sense of calm falls over you. Somehow the domino effect of both of your actions two years ago have led you to this very moment. Tragic as it is, it seems meant to be.

Just like you and Elvis.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you breathe deeply. Yes, there is a part of you that is still jealous and angry about what brought you here. But you knew, even back then, that it was possible he’d been with others in your month-long absence, that his fear of losing you plus old habits could have driven him into the arms of another. It wasn’t a new revelation, just one neither of you had wanted to talk about after all was said and done. And it hadn’t been an issue since, so you figured bringing it up would be more trouble than it was worth.

Pushing that hurt aside, a much bigger feeling swells within you—one you’ve been hesitant to name for fear that it would not come to fruition. But now everything has changed.

“It’s not a problem,” you state, your voice surprisingly steady.

“W-w-what?” Elvis questions, those oceanic eyes of his widening in disbelief.

“It’s a gift, Elvis. From the most unlikely and sad circumstances, yes, but a gift all the same. Isn’t it?” You’re not quite sure if you are trying to convince him or if you are just stating the obvious, but those feelings continue to rise in you and have for days. And they overshadow the fading fissure of anger and the burgeoning fear that you refuse to let consume you.

Hope. Joy.

“A gift?” he repeats, letting the words roll on his tongue, letting them sink in. He blinks slowly, gaze shifting off into the distance for a moment. Then, he looks down at the paperwork on the table. At the picture. “Oh. Oh.”

A shuddering breath shakes his shoulders, his ring clad fingers clawing at his knees. It’s when the tears pool in his eyes, finally betraying his sensitive vulnerability after so many days of keeping it in, that you slide out of your chair and rush to his side.

He immediately buries his head into your belly, his arms circling around your waist, clinging to you. A sob wrenches out of him, one so deep that it brings tears to your eyes.

“I-I-I’m so s-sorry. I-I didn’t think...I-I-I din’t know,” he hiccups. You’re not sure if he’s apologizing to you or her or him. Maybe his apology is for all of you.

“Shhh, hush, it’s okay,” you coo, tears trickling absently down your cheeks. You run your fingers through his soft hair before pulling back, cupping his cheeks so he is forced to look at you.

He is so wide-eyed and young-looking staring up at you, his eyes now matching the scarf in your hair with their electric blue, a dramatic contrast against the redness caused by his tears.

“It’s not a problem, honey, it’s a gift. He is a gift,” you say, wiping the tears that linger on his prominent cheekbones. “We can do this. I want to do this. If you do.”

Elvis blinks up at you, surprised. “Really?”

“Yes. If he’s a part of you, he’s a part of me, too. And—and,” you choke up, swallowing your past sorrows, “you know it’s something I’ve always wanted. Something I never thought we could have. This is…a chance to make something wonderful out of something tragic.”

You’re aware the reality is likely going to be much more complicated than either of you can fathom in this moment. There is a part of you that is utterly terrified it won’t live up to the miracle you want it to be and that you won’t be worthy of the task. But that is not what Elvis needs to hear, not right now. Your insecurities can wait.

Elvis looks down at the picture resting on the table of the young woman and her baby. Your gaze follows. The first time you saw it, you knew, based solely on the fact that the woman looked so much like a younger version of you, that something had happened between them in those weeks you’d escaped from Vegas to California, when you left him, trying to figure out if you could forgive him. When you were trying to recover from your life turning upside down.

Her likeness plus the look of horrified guilt on his face upon seeing the picture told you all you needed to know about that. His begging and pleading for forgiveness at your feet solidified it.

But it had been the way Vernon had blanched white as a sheet when seeing the baby that you understood the true consequence of Elvis’ dalliance.

It was a punch in the gut, at first. Of course, it was. But logically you knew that he’d been hurting in those weeks without you, unsure if you’d ever come back to him. It wasn’t altogether surprising that he’d sought out comfort from a girl who looked so much like you.

You wanted to be furious at the fact she had gotten pregnant by him so easily, but you knew that was a futile road to go down, especially after what happened to her.

According to the letter she’d given to her lawyer, who had sent it on to Elvis, the cancer within her spread like wildfire. It was too late to save her by the time her pain had sent her to the doctor. She—Theresa—had never planned to ask Elvis for a thing, she reiterated. Theresa had been content to raise her son by herself. But she had no family to take him in when she was gone, and she could not bear to think of her son alone and unloved.

“You don’t have to take him, Elvis, truly. But I beg you, please, please make sure he is placed with a nice family, that he is loved and taken care of. I cannot leave him all alone.”

His lawyers weren’t convinced, however, and didn’t want him to even entertain the thought. It could open you up for all sorts of future problems, Elvis.

But that didn’t stop him from finding out for himself because, as all of them knew, nobody tells Elvis Presley what he can and can’t do. He tracked her down, in Denver of all places, and took you and Vernon with him to the hospital to see Theresa. You didn’t know how you would feel seeing this girl Elvis had been with in a moment of weakness. Would you want to slap her face? Would you want to cry and scream? Would you want to tear her apart?

Instead, it had shocked you into silence, seeing someone that resembled you so closely withering away from disease, as if it were some sort of eerie harbinger. It made your skin prickle. But then compassion filled you, more so than you ever expected. The poor woman was on death’s door, but you’ll never forget the relief in her eyes when you all walked through the door. That look was something that couldn’t be faked. Nor was the toddler playing with the nurse in the corner, the little boy who Vernon looked at like he’d seen a ghost.

The boy was the spitting image of his father.

But that didn’t stop Theresa from encouraging a paternity test. She was well aware of what a mess this could be for Elvis, and she didn’t want there to be a shadow of a doubt for anyone involved. She wanted him to be sure.

“I don’t want to ruin your life,” she’d croaked, her emaciated frame limp and barely able to produce the tears she was trying to hold back. “I never want him to be a burden.”

The tiny blonde child chose that pivotal moment to break away from the nurse, waddling over and grabbing Elvis’ flared pant leg with chubby little fists, commanding Elvis’ attention downward. His chin tucked, gaze following the movement at his feet, and you watched him wrestle with what to do, what the protocol in this sort of situation was. It was intense, this first moment between them, and the boy’s all-too-familiar crooked smile and slow blinking blue eyes made your heart clench.

You watched Elvis come to an unspoken decision, and he lifted the boy easily and almost too naturally tucked the boy into his hip. The room collectively held its breath, watching the scene unfold. You’d never seen a child snuggle up to an unfamiliar person like that before, the way he buried his head into Elvis’ shoulder as if drawn in, inexplicably trusting. Granted, Elvis had that preternatural way about him, his essence bringing people to him constantly. But this was different.

Heart fluttering into a gallop, you watched Elvis take this moment in before nodding solemnly, sucking in his lip. With the child tucked into his side, it was obvious to you that he was holding back his pressing emotions to stay in control. Nevertheless, he was unwavering when he told Theresa, “Even if he’s not mine, I’ll make sure he finds a good home. I promise you that.”

She’d closed her eyes then, and when they opened, you saw a gratefulness and relief so strong it nearly bowed you over.

Elvis had done the blood test right then at the hospital. Everyone was quiet on the plane ride home. Elvis, pensive and withdrawn, clutched at your hand so tightly it tingled from the loss of circulation. And when the call came the next day that Theresa was gone, your heart broke for her. Sheer willpower had kept her alive long enough to make sure her son would be safe. A mother’s love.

You’d wept for her. You’d wept for you and for Elvis. You’d wept for that little boy.

Nicholas. Nicholas Aaron.

You didn’t tell Elvis that the moment you saw the 16-month-old toddle towards you that you knew. That you loved him instantly, like something magical locked into place. It was too early, too soon. But you knew.

Elvis hadn’t wanted to talk about it much as you all waited for the results. He was antsy and on edge, everyone giving him a wide berth. His guilt was trying its best to distance him from you, that deep seeded, insecure vulnerability in him trying to simultaneously push you away while needing you close. It was evident in the way he clung to you in his sleep. But you did everything in your power to let him know you didn’t hate him for the indiscretion, that you still loved him unconditionally, no matter the paternity outcome.

Of course, your mind whirled in overdrive, circling the drain around your surprising emotions about Nicholas. You found yourself worrying your nails down to the quick about whether he was safe and who was caring for him since his mother died. Your heart felt like it was tearing in two whenever you thought about it. You knew you shouldn’t get too attached, but you couldn’t help it. It was primal and biological, this response.

So when the phone rang this morning and Jerry had so seriously handed it to Elvis, you knew what it was, your breath catching in your throat. This was the moment that would change everything. And you hoped it was for the better as you sat across from him, wringing your hands in your lap. Silence filled the room as Elvis listened to the voice on the other end, his face going Hollywood blank, giving you nothing to hold on to. Your heart threatened to explode right out of your chest and onto the table.

He thanked the voice on the other end and hung up the phone.

“E, what did they—” you started.

“I’m his father,” Elvis finally whispered in shock.

And now you are here, holding him to you, being his rock while in your own state of disbelief and wonder. A thousand emotions roll through you all at once: Hope. Joy. Sorrow for Theresa. Guilt for being happy in the face of Nicholas’ tragedy.

“Do you want this, to take him in, Elvis?” you ask, prompting him to look up at you once more. You pray you know the answer.

“Of course, I do. I’m his father. He’s my son,” he says, as if the unfamiliar words have finally landed and he believes them. Then his signature 1,000-megawatt crooked smile spreads across his face. “I have a son! We have a son!” he adds, proudly.  

Elvis jumps up, grabbing you by the waist, spinning you around until the room tilts on its axis. You laugh breathlessly, arms locked around his neck, wondering how in the world you’ve managed to get here after all this time, in the most unlikely of ways.

A son.

When he sets you down, he looks at you, grinning from ear to ear with an unbridled passion like you’ve never seen from him before. It’s not sexual, and it’s different from the passion he has for his music. It’s the love of a new father, you realize, something you never thought you’d get to see. It makes your heart swell uncontrollably.

“Are you absolutely positive this is what you want, lil’ mama?” His questioning eyes search yours as he cups your face, his fingers catching in the blue scarf in your hair. The pet name suddenly takes on a whole new meaning, releasing butterflies in your stomach.

Excitement has your heart racing and your breath short, but you beam, winking, “Oh, I’m one thousand percent positive, Daddy.”

Elvis kisses you deeply, as though he’s merging with you, engulfing you. It takes your breath away completely.

“We have a son,” he whispers, smiling against your mouth. “Let’s go get our son.” There’s something in the way he includes you in this, a pointed clarity that you are not an outsider because you aren’t Nicholas’ biological mother. No, he’s telling you in no uncertain terms—this is your boy as much as he is mine.

And after so many years thinking it could never be, it finally, truly hits you, without a doubt:

I’m going to be a mother.

*

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[jhoneybees]

Obsession?

Alright! It's back and ready for you all to read! So this one isn't like my other fluffy fics but a spicy type(my first ever!) so if you're looking for a fluffy fic, this one might not be it 😅 My girl @elvisalltheway101 helped me with this and I'm so thankful, mwah mwah to you sista🫶

Thank you so much for your patience!

Characters: 50s!Elvis X reader

Warnings/triggers: spicy fic, mentions of y/n, crying, swearing, Elvis being obsessed, mentions of worship, sub!elvis???, obsession talk, mentions of God

_____________________________________________

There’s just something about you that makes Elvis go weak in the knees. He doesn’t know what it could be that attracted him so much but everytime he tries to find the possible answers, his brain just goes static when his thoughts gradually form into a daydream about when you would pass-by giving him one of those gorgeous smiles of yours or when you would stare into eachothers eyes for a split second, even when he watched you from afar as you laughed with the middle aged women at church and wearing that damn dress that made you look too tempting for your own good at a party you two were invited to.

Elvis' heart and brain might not know that he’s obsessing but that occasional stir in his stomach sure does, It’s almost like he’s worshiping you but how can he not? Your humor, your kind-heartedness, your attentive nature, your eyes, your hair, your voice, your smile lines, your pores, your breathing, your lips, they’re all better than any morning coffee, any fulfilling meal and it sure doesn’t help him when you would ask the simplest of questions like “Sugar in your coffee?” or “How was your day today, Presley?” with that pretty voice it turns him into a blushing, stuttering, shaking mess and when he would get a glimpse of you everytime he walks past the diner you work at.

Boy his heart starts racing like he’s about to have a heart attack.

It’s been so agonizing for him because he’s had a crush on you for as long as he can remember, the first day of Junior year. Others may say to just ask you out and see what happens but to him he can’t do that, how could he? He may act all confident and slick in his daily daydreams of you but in reality he’s just a mere country boy with a funny sense of style and girly eyelashes that everyone laughs at and your the Preacher’s daughter who everyone loves, who couldn’t possibly like someone as foolish as him, you’re divine and he’s just…well him.

But he feels like something’s gonna happen.

He just can’t quite put a finger on it.

One day as he browses around the Memphis record shop, he accidentally gets nudged. looking up to be blessed by those Godly angel eyes. “Oh I’m so sorry! I didn’t see-” His heart skips a beat “Elvis, Hi! It’s been a while”

God must be watching over me.

“Hello?” Elvis shaking his head out of his trance with a sharp inhale “H-Hi” seeing a soft smile grow on your face “How are you?” Elvis grins shyly and scratches the back of his neck “Uh..I-I’m good” his eyes averting away but snap back to yours as he straightens up “H-how are you?” mentally cringing to himself.

“I’m great, Thank you for asking”

You thanked him, you wasted an ounce of that precious voice of yours to Thank him.

By this point, the record he’s holding slips out of his hand, just for a moment he realizes and with a clumsy attempt of trying to catch it, he accidentally steps on it the wrong way causing the record to break.

“Shit-” he swears under his breath, hearing you gasp quietly “Oh…” crouching down to pick the damaged record up. He sighs and moves his hand to grab his wallet from his pocket only for him to notice it’s not there, his eyes widen to which your eyebrows raise slightly “Did you leave your wallet behind?” he glances at you and quickly looks away ”Uh-'' feeling your hand touch his arm making him gulp “Hey, I can pay for the record..” you offer softly, his eyebrows furrow and his head turns up at you “No, it’s-”

“I insist”

_____________________________________________

“Thank- thank you for paying for that, I-I-I-I’ll have ta pay you back somehow” Elvis’ voice falling soft as he nears the end of his sentence making you smile “Don't mention it, wouldn't want you getting in trouble” a happy angelic laugh fills his ears, his brain going fuzzy as he looks at you through his lashes, falling into a short trance until your voice snaps him out of it “Well I better get going” Elvis clears his throat following with a nod, Seeing your small wave but the moment your head turns the other way, his gut feeling urges him to yell out “Wait Y/n!”

Oh God.

“Yeah?” his hand moving to scratch the back of his neck and his eardrums hearing the bottom of your shoe scraping along the concrete as you come to a halt “Um…To- to pay you back…” stuffing his hand in his pocket. His heart punching him in his chest.

Oh Lordy Lord.

“Can I take you out?”

Oh why did I say it like that?

His heart ringing wedding bells as a giggle emits through your lips and his breath stills when you nod quietly “Of course, that'll be very nice, Elvis” his knees are damn. near. weak. Nodding his head silently with his crooked smile showing “Uhm…at 6?....I’ll..I’ll pick you up” he questions to which you nod again.

Did I just?

You walk away the second time, his eyes brightening as you look over your shoulder.

“See you then, Presley”

_____________________________________________

It feels like a dream, how did he manage to ask you out, for you to agree? God, Elvis hopes he doesn’t wake up from this dream, if it is even one.

His palms rubbing along his slacks as his eyes try to stay watching the movie on the screen. By now he's lost the plot of the movie because of his thoughts.

He's alone with you in his daddy’s car.

And lord his nerves are kicking him like crazy.

Leg bouncing nervously and a deep breath escapes his mouth. He's trying, he’s trying to keep his attention on the movie but he’s on a date with you-

a hand falling on his knee and his eyes trail up an arm, landing on your eyes that he couldn't help but soften at.

“About to make a hole in the floor soon” you laugh, making him clear his throat and smile shyly “M’sorry” once again blessed by your smile “It's alright…you seem a little distracted, is everything ok?” pressing his lips together tightly as your eyebrows furrow, shaking his head “Oh, no it's nothin’ “ he inhales deeply when you quirk an eyebrow “You sure?” he nods.

Stupid.

Be. more. discreet.

Elvis turns his head to look out the side window as your attention falls back on the movie then as he begins to bite his nails, sinking into his seat a little, he freezes as he feels your knee gently tap against the side of his thigh, gulping and pushing himself back up to sit up properly, resting his arm on the car door and wiping his palm on his slacks.

“Are you sure you're ok? You seem to be a little off, Elvis” his head whipping towards you “I-I'm fine, really” looking at each of your eyes with so much adoration as your words flow off your tongue “You can tell me…” you say with a slight smile.

A big gulp.

Elvis lowers his head and looks at the floor of the car “It's noth-...” glancing at you as you sit up in your seat, facing him, waiting patiently.

His eyes avert from yours and his heart beats out of his chest, mentally cursing to himself as his hands grow increasingly more sweaty. He’s been dreaming of this moment and he’s been praying for this to happen but…He’s scared-

“I like you”

Glancing up to see your eyes widen, surprised.

He said it.

It's out in the open, he can't take it back.

“Elvis…” your voice soft and quiet, his vision turning back to the floor, brimming with tears “...I’m sorry” his voice quiet, picking at the fabric of his slacks, bringing his palm up to wipe at the tears that manage to escape.

Then…

He feels a hand smooth along the front of his neck, cupping his jaw with a thumb on one side and two fingers on the other. Forcing him to turn his head, His voice releasing a pained whimper of his heart clenching at the sight of your angelically sculpted face.

His breath hitches as you suddenly ever so gently, plant your soft lips on his, closing his eyes. A single tear falling down his cheek.

Absolute. Pure. Bliss.

The slightest his hands begin to tremble as his skin tingles from your exhale through your nose. His spine shivers as your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him closer to bring his lips further onto yours making you lean back a little.

A small whine emitting through his lips as you pull away breathlessly, Elvis looking into your eyes “Y/n…” your eyes that could outshine any jewel before shakily slithering his hands around your waist, pulling you into another kiss. His eyebrows frowning and his body physically melting as you hum against him.

He hums softly, out of nowhere feeling your knee pushing in between his legs, causing him to moan.

With a soft push on his chest, Elvis leans back against the pillar between the car seat and the car door, the sound of your lips separating filling the car as you lean down to peck along his jaw, Elvis' breath hitching and sighing. With shaky hands squeezing your waist gently for you to push your knee in between his legs again with a little more pressure.

Oh Lord, help me.

His stomach fills with butterflies as you nip at his jaw a little and your hands brushing down his neck down to his belt to pull his shirt out of his pants, his breath stutters as you slide your hands under to rub against his tummy, your soft lips returning to his. Hands traveling up to lightly graze over his nipples, making him squirm.

Feeling you smirk against him, A very unexpected noise escapes his body as your palm presses on his manhood, slowly adding pressure, his breathing frantic and groans squeezing out of his throat.

Elvis inhales sharply as you shift onto his lap, his puppy eyes looking straight up into yours as your lips separate, seeing you in front of him, your bodies just a few inches apart.

Tears building up in his eyes, he glides his hands down to your hips, almost about to sob at the feeling of you as he gives you a little squeeze.

Gulping before saying just above a whisper “You’re so beautiful…”

His eyes roaming all over your body from your neck, down to your chest then to his hands on your hips but as he caresses you with his thumbs, his head gets lifted by your finger under his chin. Shocked to find a glimmer of lust, a need but also a sparkle of kindness…Love.

His breath drains out of him as you lift his hand in your small ones, kissing each of his fingers, making sure to keep his eyes on you.

“Take me, Presley”

_____________________________________________

READ PART 2!!! Written by @elvisalltheway101

😵‍💫Addiction😵‍💫

[fairybloodsucker]

Good Boy

Smut

Authors note: please dont judge my writing or autocorrect, i have dyslexia and english is my second language so if there is errors, i apologise im not really the best at writing, but im trying to get better, enjoy <3

April 1969

You have been with Elvis for the past 4 years so the two of you are warm and liked to joke and tease each other, but this time, without you knowing, Elvis wanted to tease you extra this time as a surprise for you, y’all were going to a comedian show for his Memphis mafia, but that didn’t stop his little surprise for you. You and Elvis had a room together so you and Elvis were changing into more proper outfits and getting ready together. you were in the shower, washing you hair with shampoo, massaging it in your long silky hair, till it got foamy, then washing it off, to apply conditioner and leave it in your hair while washing your body. In the meantime, Elvis carefully entered the bathroom and swapped your panties with a vibrating panties, identical to the once you picked to wear so you couldn’t tell if it was swapped. Elvis walked quietly out of the bathroom to find a belt to match his outfit. You were washing off the body soap from your wet body, and then your conditioner, you got a towel, got out of the shower to dry off, and then got your panties on first. You didn’t feel anything weird with it. Got your bra on, and finally your clothes, and got started on your hair first then your makeup.

3 hour later, the two of you and the Memphis mafia was at your places. Elvis looked at you with a small smile, you looked back at him, curious on why he smiled like that.

¨Do I got anything on my face?¨ you said,

¨No baby, you don’t, I just adore lookin at ya¨

You rolled your eyes in a playful matter until you felt something vibrating in your panties which got you to gasp, you look at Elvis, now smirking.

When you were about you ask Elvis about it, the show started.

The vibrant feeling not leaving, you grabbed the arm rester on the chair you were sitting on, you leaned close to Elvis.

¨Did you do anything??¨ you whispered

¨Do what?¨ he whispered back

You felt the vibrant motion stop. You saw his hand in his pocket.

¨Don’t act like you don’t know, E, im serious¨

¨But I don’t, honey¨ he replied trying to act confused but he had his grin tattoing his face which made you know he did in fact did do something.

Elvis took a glass and drank it. You watched him.

¨I know you swapped my panties, cuz these are vibrating¨ while you said this, you felt your panties start to vibrate. That’s it, you thought, you Took his hand and Took him out of the room, without anyone noticing because the lights were out.

You took Elvis into the closest room, opened the door and you took Elvis in first then yourself, and closed the door.

¨You think you can tease me like that, E?¨ you said, looking straight up at him.

¨Yes baby, I can¨ he said, not worried.

¨Well you gotta join the game you just made, and boy its gonna be a big tease for you¨you had a lot in mind.

¨Show me baby¨

You smirked, took him towards the wall, he made a small whine, you locked your eyes on him while you took one hand down his body. His eyes were locked into yours. You came to his belt and unbuttoned it, still eyes locked together. You traced your hand down his pants feeling him already hardening. He liked it. He loved it. You knew Elvis loved being dominanted by you.

You took your hands up from his pants and took a grip of his pants and took his pants down. Elvis was now looking down at what you were doing.

¨Look at me.¨ voice strict and he listened, he looked back at your eyes.

¨Now what do you say?¨his cock bounced up when his pants were fully down.

¨Sorry mommy ..¨ he muttered.

¨Mommy didn’t hear her boy.¨still strict with your tone.

¨Your boy is very sorry he looked down¨

You wrapped your hand around his hard length.

¨Oh you should be, you should be very sorry¨

He nodded

¨Say it¨

¨Im very sorry mommy¨

¨That’s a good boy¨ you started stroking his length, you looked down at his length, taking his foreskin back so your could see his pink swollen tip, it was moist with precum. You kept stroking him, speeding up the pace.

¨is my boy turned on by me, eh¨ you looked back up at him, with a smirk, while having butterflies in your stomach by the sight of him being hard for you, just you, only you.

He nodded ¨Yes mommy, just for you¨ he replied, his voice a little shaky.

¨Good boy, that’s a good boy¨ you looked back down at his cock, speeding up the stroking speed.

¨Gonna …¨ he moaned softly

¨Hold it!¨

¨I… I.. I.. can’t…¨

You stopped the stroking.

¨My boy aint gonna cum until mommy says he’s gonna cum, you hear me?¨ you were harsh on him.

He nodded.

¨Say it big boy!¨

¨Im gonna cum when mommy says I can¨ he said, listening to you

¨Good boy¨you smirked. You wrapped your hand around his length again, he twitched a bit by your touch because his cock was sensitive. You smiled sinnely. You stroked him fast, super fast. He felt his ecstasy warming up in his stomach. By the speed you were stroking him, his ecstasy ran down towards his crotch.

You hear him start to moan louder, almost whimpering in pleasure. His cock was twitching in your hand, and before he could cum, you stopped. Elvis was breathing heavily.

¨W..why.. why stop?..¨ it almost sounded like he has just cum.

¨Don’t stop..¨

¨Did I tell you to cum, hm?¨ you smirked, knowing the answer, which Elvis did to.

¨No..¨

¨Beg¨

¨Beg?¨

¨You wanna cum right, sugar cup?¨

¨Yes mommy, yes

¨Then beg¨ you wanted to see Elvis beg to cum so, Fucking. Bad.

¨Do it¨ you added.

¨Mommy, please let me cum, I.. I need to, you know I need to.. please let your boy cum. I’ll be a good boy for you

¨Only me?¨

¨Yes mommy, only you, and you only, just please let me cum¨ he almost cried

¨Mommy approves¨

You wrapped a hand around his length once more, you started stroking very slow at first but after one and one pump, you speed up the pace. Elvis closed his eyes shut. You looked at Elvis.

¨Open em and look at Mommy¨ he opened them and he looked straight at your eyes. Your hand moving fast.

¨I.. gonna..¨

¨Do it.¨

He moaned louder and louder and finally after two pumps, his cock shot out loads white sticky strings, you watched, biting your lip.

Elvis was in his ecstasy, and when he feels it exiting his body, he is left breathless and said,

¨Did I do good?¨

¨yes you did, baby, Good boy¨

[vintageaustin]

until i found her

pairing: Austin/Elvis x f reader

summary: you and Elvis meet at a diner but that is only the beginning of ur epic love story

co writer: the amazing @asshlyyyy

side note: this is the new version of tredici with some light modifications but we love it just as much if not even more!

warnings: none just some light swearing

You were part of the richest family known trough the whole south. But here you were sitting at your local diner in Memphis Tennessee. With two of your friends, you personally didn’t care about your money or your status. Even though you got brought up the same way your friends were.

You couldn’t care about what someone had and didn’t have. You were mindlessly listening to your friends talk about some dress. Not really paying attention to  the conversation.

Until one of your friends spoke, “what do you think white or blue?” scarlet asked. Making you look up from your school work.

“uh probably white” you said flashing a smile at her before quickly turning back to your work, unlike your friends you didn’t go to a normal school. You were homeschooled which caused you to be a bit anti social But you managed.

You heard the bell of the door ring as you turned toward it as your friend Isabella scoffed. “look at that greaser, his hair looks so gross ew.” Isabella stated.

You looked up towards the door as a boy not much older then you walked in. 2 maybe 3 years at most he was handsome he had black hair, a sharp jaw line and blue eyes.

That was the first thing you noticed about him. you looked at the guitar in his hand then looked back up catching his eyes. You quickly looked down at your lap.

When his gaze met yours. After a few minutes or so you walked up to the counter. You smiled softly at the waitress as a sign you’d wait as she helped the boy with his guitar sitting next to you.

“what can I get you sugar?” the waitress asked the boy. He smiled politely at her before answering back “just a coke sweetheart, keep the change ye?” he said. As he paid for his drink.

He turned too you and looked away. Quickly looked away when you catched his eye.  You giggled softly and looked his way “it’s not polite yano…” you smiled.

As he looked your way “i-I uhm I’m really sorry doll just haven’t seen ya here before” he said and gave you a charming smile.

You felt a soft blush creep it’s way up your cheeks. “huh well that could be right, my friends were just hungry”. You giggled and pointed over to your friends in the booth near the window.

He chuckled and nodded his head “makes ‘llota sense…say what’s your name?” he asked and looked up you could tell he was nervous by the way he fidgeted with the napkin that rested in his hand.

“’m y/n…. what about yourself?” you said just loud enough for him too hear. He smiled softly at you , “Elvis honey ma name is Elvis” he said and you two started to engage into a conversation.

Meanwhile your friends were over in the booth trying to get your attention.

“y/n! get back here and stop talking to that goddamn greaser he’s poor!!” Isabella whisper shouted at you. You ignored her as good as good as you could.

Till scarlet threw In a “you’re daddy’s gonna kill you y/n!!” she chimed. You shook your head slightly before turning your full attention back on the boy named Elvis.

Elvis opened wanted to speak up again. As two boys about his age ran in panting and huffing. “elvis?! What the hell man where have you been?!” the taller boy yelled. Elvis looked over at them as you took your pen out of your bag and wrote your name and phone number down on a napkin.

“we were supposed to be down at suns 30 minutes ago?! C’mon don’t just sit there get up we gotta go!!” the other guy yelled nd you chuckled.

“Shit I’m sorry guys I lost track of fuckin time ‘m comin ‘m comin calm your horses” he muttered as you watched him get up.  He turned to you taking a hold of your hand gently. “Will I see ya again?” he asked. Looking into your eyes. You nodded your head and shoved the napkin into the pocket of  his jacket.

“Ye call me” you smiled softly and walked of kissing his cheek. He smiled softly and touched his cheek as you walked of. He got snapped outta his thoughts by his friends yellin at him to hurry up.

You watched him run of with his friends as you went back over to yours.

You smiled softly to yourself as you sat back down with your friends.  You wondered if he’d call and he wondered if maybe just maybe he could be the Romeo to your Juliette

hi i'm still alive have a lovely weekend xx