#and she feels AWFUL. her body is betraying her down to her last days | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

freshlyrage · 5 months

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Running Like Water

The Holiday Special and Homecoming

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I’m bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 5.2k

a/n:

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate. Happy Holidays to all. Here's my little gift of a few short stories about the holidays in RLW. And yes... finally I have wrapped up the Homecoming story.

I listened to an awful lot of christmas songs while writing this, if anyone is interested I could attach a playlist (The Christmas Song by Nat "King" Cole is a must listen for this).

This is for you @angelofsmalldeath-codeine merry christmas beloved!

Thanksgiving 1977

By the time Andrea begins zipping up her sweater while walking home from school she realizes that perhaps her oh so thrilling friendship with Javier Peña was only a summer thing. On the last sticky day of august he ruffled her hair and joked about her sun freckles. Sitting at the lake’s dock, shoulder to shoulder a thirteen year old Andrea shares an orange with fifteen year old Javier. He tells her, her nose looked like a chocolate chip cookie, god forbid Javier even slightly throws a compliment her way. Andrea balls her hands in fists with a grin when she says thank you, her brother scoffing from the other edge of their lake dock, “He wasn’t complimenting you, you idiot.” He calls with a snort, Genie pinches his arm and he yelps. Javi looks over his tan shoulder at his best friend and laughs along. Her face falls when Javier doesn’t correct Frankie but instead pushes off away from her and runs to the other end and pushes her brother into the murky water with a voice crack laced scream. Andrea and Genie flinch from the splash. She flinches from the weather dropping below sixty, eyes narrow as she walk uphill after being dismissed for thanksgiving break.

That was the last time she saw Javi. He stopped coming to the house to pick her and Frankie up. Two weeks into seventh grade she noticed how strange it was to not be with him. Everyone in the halls at school were strangers, shit, they hadn't even known she spent the summer crushing on Laredo’s cutest freshman. Andrea tries to practice self control by not bugging Frankie about where the hell his so-called best friend was. That was until of course October when Frankie snatched a piece of gum from Andrea’s bookbag.

“Where are you going?” She asks, her head lifting from her damn geometry work. Frankie pops the gum in his mouth and shrugs.

“Homecoming game with Javi.” He says it like its nothing. Her eyes go all needy and in the most little sister voice she begs to come with. Frankie screws up his face, “No. Absolutely not.”

Andrea slams her pencil down feeling betrayed by her brother who just two months ago let her tag along, every time!

“Have you been hanging out, like just you guys?” She asks, sounding more whiny than she wanted.

“Yeah, we hang out every day.” He bends down and tightens the laces to his chucks, his Laredo high school pull string hoodie flopping over his head in the same movement. She remembers her heart sinking at that moment, How dare they leave her out! She stands from the chair, it screeches loud.

“What!”

Frankie laughs and heads out the door with a slam.

So Andrea learns that, yeah, it's a summer thing.

She rewires her brain to believe it stays that way just because she was the only one still in middle school. But she still finds it beyond strange that she doesn't bump into him, not even once–not until thanksgiving. The Diaz household only celebrated christian holidays and occasionally birthdays, so thanksgiving was just another day. Andrea rolls over in bed after a good late afternoon nap, her eyes falling to her year wide calendar. 49 days until she’s fourteen. She prays she grows some boobs, blurry eyes staring down at the mosquito bites under the t-shirt.

A knock at her room door has her sat up straight, patting down the wrinkles in her shirt. “Yes!” She calls, eyes wide and cheeks flush.

“It’s Javi.”

Andrea nearly shrieks at the sound of his voice from behind the door and from the position she had just been in. Up on her feet she hurries to the mirror, “Give me a moment I’m-um-I’m naked.” She blurts, her cheeks heating at her brain's stupid stupid stupid self. Patting her hair in place and slipping on socks, her freckles are long gone. No longer is there a trace of summer on her, what if she was just prettier under the sun.

He chuckles behind the door, “Uh-um okay.”

“Come in.” She shouts instead of opening the door for him. She wonders if maybe she looks more grown, her eyes dance to the mirror and polka dot fluffy shorts that stopped mid thigh, nope definitely not. He opens the door and the sight is absolutely delightful. Javier clad in a flannel and jeans, his brows furrowing at her. Lips quirking into a smile and at that moment Andrea realizes this is Javier’s first time in her room. Her cheeks set a blaze, his eyes scan the place, he smiles lazily at a picture of the summer crew taped onto her vanity mirror. “Sorry, I was just changing after a nap.” Half true. Her eyes bounce anywhere but his own, god Andrea could be so obvious sometimes. Have I no shame?

He frowns, lifting a tin foil plate up, suddenly the smell of Peña fresh pork and rice, and tamales. Andrea’s stomach grumbles cartoonishly and Javier splits into a chuckle. Andrea is utterly gobsmacked at how badly she likes the boy. Is this what love feels like? Like the sound of their makes her ache, was she too young to feel that hard? She giggles anyway, “Sorry I’m so hungry, let's go to the kitchen.” She tilts her head toward the door and he nods, leading himself out. Shamelessly staring at the nape of his neck as she trails him down the stairs. She has a dangerous thought of her lips pressing right there, that thought freaks her out and she feels her stomach flip.

“Why are you alone?” Javier asks as he sets down the plate on the kitchen island. Andrea slept off the annoyance she developed from her mother and brothers yearly antics. Each thanksgiving, the two of them, just the two of them, go out to eat. They call it their mother son day of the year, when Andrea was young she was left with her nanny who took it upon herself to take little Andrea to a movie each thanksgiving. But Andrea was no longer little and the tradition continued, so the past 3 thanksgivings had been spent alone. It was routine to her, she wasn't sure if she was ready to understand her mothers ways just yet.

This Thanksgiving fell on Andrea’s fathers birthday, it's all she knew about him. His birthday and name. Lucas, November 24th. One complicated parent a time, she didn’t dwell this thanksgiving but she’d be a liar if she said she hadn't felt like she was on the verge of tears the entire day.

Andrea peels open the wet aluminum, oh lordy I am thankful, thank you Chucho… for this food, Andrea looks up at Javier who had been staring at her with such contentment, and thank you for making the adonis that watches me now. Grabbing a fork Andrea answers, “My mom does something with Frankie every thanksgiving so I’m left here! God this looks amazing.” She drags her fork at the slab of pork, and it pulls so beautifully she could cry. Javier pulls the plate away from her. “Hey!”

“Is this every thanksgiving?” He asks, shielding the plate with his arm to get her to answer.

She didn't care, “Yes, now move.” Andrea pinches his wrist and he slowly pulls his hand back to his side. Shoveling the pernil in her mouth with an excited mumble. Javi stays silent for her first few bites, just watching Andrea stuff herself. She was so hungry she couldn't bother looking at him. But then he sits next to her and gets a fork for himself and begins eating off the plate with her.

Cheeks bulging with arroz con gandules, her eyes brighten and she smiles. “Happy Thanksgiving.” She says with a full mouth, to anyone it would be a gross act but Javier had thought it was the most endearing sight ever.

“Happy thanksgiving Andrea.”

They eat together in silence.

Javier leaves with his heart beating fast in his chest, his stomach turning in the worst way. He looks at his father in the driver's seat, Chucho rolls down the window. “What took you so long!?”

Javier shook his head, not wanting to risk shouting what he discovered at the lawn of Andrea’s home. He shoots his head over his shoulder to take one more look at the house that contained just Andrea inside.

Running a hand through his hair, Javier opens his fathers truck door and settles in. That feeling, that hole in his chest still in full effect. “Andrea spends every thanksgiving alone.” He says it, his chest rises and falls. Andrea spends every thanksgiving alone.

Thanksgiving 1979

Andrea spends it alone again. Javier sat with his uncle, and dad in Houston, feeling awful homesick. Javier filled out the scholarship to the High School of Law and Justice in March and got free tuition for the upcoming year in late August, he had no time to really tell Andrea. Chucho traveled north for the holidays. Cooking for his helpless little brother who had Javier living off cafeteria lunch and ramen. The house smelled delightful and it truly felt like the holidays, even if he wasn't really home. During grace, with his hand resting on his fathers shoulder, in a warm room filled with home cooked food and love, he realizes she’s likely napping again. Probably sleeping to fizzle out hunger and loneliness.

Javi struggles to enjoy his food.

Homecoming 1979

Homecoming sure felt like a holiday in Laredo, at least within the halls of the school. The week had been full of underage drinking each night, pranks, and defacing the rival schools flag. Andrea couldn’t be bothered with the festivities, she just cared that senior Brian Flores who asked her to the dance. Now she could use this as an excuse to be pretty and maybe, maybe get her first kiss. She attended the game, and met Lorraine face to face for the very first time. Andrea attempted to bite back the jealousy buttering her tongue, and she surely took it out on Javier when he asked to talk after the game. Asking her all these questions that made her feel, for just a second, that he wants to be near her as much as she wants to be near him.

Then he called her kid, and Andrea felt winded at the blow.

“Next time I’ll think twice before I invite my best friend's kid sister to hang out. I apologize for trying to be polite and include you, god knows you used to whine about being left out.”

Javi had distracted her from the handsome boy clad in shoulder pads who asked if she was okay, she couldn't even bask in the feeling because immediately Javier switched to protector mode. With a furrowed brow his eyes darted from Andrea to the grown man attempting to court her, and oh it settled something deep in his stomach he was unprepared to talk about.

“What the fuck was that?”

“What do you mean?”

After a mini tangent and a few curses about him being far too old for her, Javi in a fit of protectiveness asked Andrea just to go with him. His brain completely abandons the thought of his unofficial girlfriend Lorraine. When he watches Andrea’s eyes twinkle for one second, he is reminded of the girl he had spent the last few weeks witj and the feelings he truly felt for the Lor. He wanted to be Lorraine’s boyfriend, he was tired of sneaking around–homecoming would have been his perfect opportunity to just go steady with the girl he had a crush on.

“Please stop acting like you care, I don't feel left out anymore. I have my own friends and life now. You guys only had me around because my mom made you, cus’ i couldn't make friends but obviously-Obviously I’m doing better now, so just please leave me alone” With that all thoughts of anyone but Andrea clears, only panic fills his chest when he watches someone who had never been upset with him, someone who had always been eager to spend time with, reminds him that things have changed and she becomes someone who wants to be left alone.

Andrea heads home and sleeps well, she glances over at the dress she picked out and strangely the twisting jealousy and betrayal she felt from Javier fizzled at the thought of being appreciated by someone who actually likes her. Not so bad for a freshman, she thinks. She dozes off and dreams of Javier. She dreams she accepts his invite–even if it was offered in a white hot moment. In her brain she wears something entirely different and dances with him in their school gym. It’s decorated much more beautifully than she anticipated, but her brain paints it perfect just for them. Javier doesn’t make a move on her the entire night of the dance, it wasn’t his style. When the two decide it’s time to go, he kisses her gently and slowly against the brick walls of the gymnasium. Heart in her throat, she grips to the lapels of his blazer, pointing her foot in a beautiful disney first kiss. What a lovely dream it was, maybe that’s why she feels well rested the next day.

She gets ready with an empty house, Frankie spent the night at Genie’s, again, a photo of Sharon Tate taped to her mirror. Eyes squinted as she messes up with powdered eyeliner for the… eighth time. The guitar riff in Marmalade’s I See the Rain bouncing off the walls of her bedroom. She pats down the wrinkles on the pale yellow dress. Her chest still not quite filling the thing but the built in lace shawl like jacket covers her modestly. Melissa had found too many of the short dresses too grown for a freshman. Andrea’s eyes flick up to her own, then down to her lips. She liked those, pinching her lips together her eyes narrow attempting to give her reflection a sexy pre kiss smolder. Her nose turns up in a cringe. Stomach flipping, will Brian kiss with tongue? He’s seventeen, god, he will for sure. Her eyes survey the room, she is alone… her mom got out of work at 9 pm. Frankie had no intention of coming home until tomorrow.

Screw it.

Andrea bunches her hand, her thumb lapping her pointer. She brings her hand to her lips and attempts to emulate what she thinks a kiss should look like. Her eyes close for just a moment when she feels a rhythm that feels right, hmm this doesn't seem too bad. Hopefully his breath doesn't smell like punch–

“Andrea-what the fu-”

She squeals at the top of her lungs when her eyes fall on a hurried suit clad Javier. Her wet hand is covered in Avon’s ripe cherry lipstick. “Ah! Oh my god.” It's her worst nightmare, her none kissed hand wiping the other while Javier stares with confusion and a hint of amusement. “What-how-why–how did you get in here?!” She yells, jumping to her feet. Javier tugs at his bow tie and stares at her hand for a moment, eliciting an ahem from her throat. His cheeks hint a blush.

“Door was unlocked.” He stated flatly. Andrea blinks a few times, her lashes still wet with mascara, was he really here or had she kept dreaming.

He was just as nervous, as he got ready in the morning he wavered his options. He goes to homecoming and tells her while she’s there with her prick of a date, he tells her everything. He shook his head at that, he knew that could be a mess, it could create a scene. Javier crossed that off the list, he thought of just calling, he let that idea go too. As he crouched down to tighten his dress shoes his eyes caught a glimpse of the dusty space below his dresser, a white border poking out into view.

Javier leaned forward and pulled the thing out from under his dresser. There Andrea is, her hair long and braided, her classic teal bike to her left. To her right is Javi with his arm slung over her shoulders. With a sting in his eye and heart beating in his throat, Javier ran all the way to her, to Andrea.

So without warning to Lorraine, Javier lays it all out.

“You can't go to homecoming.”

Andrea rolls her eyes, “Javi I’m tired of this weird protector complex you’ve developed, but I’m fifteen now I-”

“I won't let you go because that douchebag is being paid to take you, being paid double if he kisses you and triple if he fucks you.” He says it so rushed, just to get her to zip it. He saves Andrea in a sense, she was ready to spill some cliche lines that will have her cringing in t-minus six hours. The urgency was useful only in that facet, because then it hist Andrea all at once. Her eyes fall to the floor, heart dancing in her chest. How could I have been so blind. She knew of the senior bucket list, she knew, yet–

“Oh.” Her eyes screw shut for a moment, really hoping this was a dream. My god was she humiliated. She bought a dress, taped magazine clippings, painted her nails, kissed her hand and pushed Javier away for nothing. For someone to plan to use her for a checkmark on a list, she felt like a total idiot. Javi must think I look so stupid, Andrea thinks. Here in the middle of her room practicing kissing in an over priced dress. And despite her efforts to prove to Javi that she is in fact mature and strong and no longer in need of acceptance, her chin begins to quiver in the same way it did when she was just a kid. Her eyes blurry, she doesn’t even realize Javier is walking over to her with a soft pleading voice. Makeup ruined already, his hand grips her shoulder and instinctively she reaches out to grip his wrist. He’s frantically trying to get her stop crying but she just felt so embarrassed, crying is the only thing distracting from that pain in her chest. He’s whispering promises,

Andrea please stop crying

I’ll stay here or-or we can go together

We can stay in—watch something

We can egg his car—please stop crying.

Shaking her head, her fingers dig into his wrist and he takes it as a sign to gather her up. Pulling Andrea into his chest, she knows her mascara tears must be staining his tux yet he couldn’t seem to care. The ache in his own chest settling the second he flattens a hand on the back of her head. Cheek resting on the top of her head. Andrea leans her entire body weight into the embrace, absolutely exhausted of being the joke, of being a pawn. Tired of being behind and naive. Javier tucks her head below his chin, resting on the top of her head. Ans oh boy is he in trouble because he hadn't thought of Lorraine, not even once.

Despite the circles she’s talked herself into about her need to be self reliant—god did it feel good to just be hugged.

With a squeeze to Andrea’s hip she pulls back, her eyes in all their raccoon glory, somehow she was still so beautiful. "Let’s go downstairs and watch something. Then we can flip through the yellow pages and sign the bastard up for the most incessant and embarrassing subscription with his home phone. How does Cat Scratch sex line sound?” Javier suggests. Just there, she feels it again, Am I too young to feel this much?

Through tears and smudged makeup, her lips quirk at its corners.

“Okay.”

Christmas 1979

Christmas at the Diaz house wasn’t actually so bad. On the eve of christmas Melissa sets out all of the presents she’s bought her kids, then in the corner of her room lays a second pile of gifts for the people of Laredo that she’s made her family. Then she dresses her children, yes, even at their old age, in outfits she bought. The three take a drive to their church’s party and it goes the same way each year. The Smithfield’s lead a prayer, they play their mix of american christmas classics and spanish ones, then they regret serving alcohol at their christmas party.

Two days before the party half of their christmas lights fall and in a fit of anger Melissa calls over Chucho to bring his latter and fix the damn thing. It must be genetic because when the Diaz women call, the Peña men come running. To Andrea’s surprise Javier shows up with his father. The group of friends watch the disaster that is Melissa Diaz with Holiday anxiety.

Melissa stands at the foot of a ladder while Chucho puts up her lights. “A la derecha!” She yells from below, Frankie, Javier and Andrea sit on the lawn watching in amusement. It was chillier, a low fifty, it became Andreas' excuse to wear her lacrosse sweatshirt. Her brother and Javier joke about something that happened in school, something she didn’t witness. So she picks at the grass surrounding her and looks off at the two geezers arguing with each other in Spanish. Nat King Cole and Celia Cruz blasting from inside their house, windows open and in the December sunset their christmas tree twinkles beyond the window.

Andrea decides maybe she likes Christmas with her family, with this family.

She decides to take that statement back when her mother forces her to run the boutique from opening till closing on Christmas eve. Andrea stands behind the cash register wearing a headband with twirly attachments that jingled with each slight movement. If she hears happy holidays one more time she’ll kill Santa Claus herself. So it’s safe to say that when she locks up shop with a daily sale of five thousand dollars, she couldn’t be bothered with seeing half of Laredo in the church basement.

Somehow Andrea finds herself in a stockings and a puffy green dress. She is half asleep by the time she spots the black leather couch at the farthest corner of the large basement. The basement of Los Tres Reyes church was the home of many parties. Many that could be considered non-fitting for a church but to most it was simply just a venue. Considering Lorraine’s father was the english mass pastor and his daughter was the most admired girl at the school, Mr. Smithfield held the Laredo Christmas party-invite only. Contrary to most parties at Los Tres Reyes, the Smithfield Christmas extravaganza (nice dresses and day drinking) was exclusive in Laredo terms.

Lorraine was suited in the prettiest outfit in the room. Too fashionable for this town, plaid flared pants and a cashmere turtleneck. Andrea wants to groan at the silly dress her mom forced her into… and she was so tired. The party began to fill with the most prestigious faces of town, mostly store owners and Lorraine’s friends. Flashes fake smiles at each wave and struggling to stay awake the second she sits down. The familiar crunch of the couch with the sound of the tool of her skirt created a new strange ear splitting sound that has Andrea cringing. Legs crossed she wondered how many feet of tinsel they used for the ceiling.

Fleshy nylon rubbing together with each leg-crossed readjustment. God she wished she had a magazine or something to not look so socially awkward in a setting like this. Deep inside Andrea was praying for Monica or Liandra to show up and save the day. She knew Javier was on his way, she knew she couldn’t bear the sight of the couple, especially how romantic it is to spend Christmas with your girlfriend’s family. Frankie was talking off Genie’s dad’s ear while nursing a beer.

With the Ronetts playing on speaker and the bustling chatter, Andrea finds it awfully easy to drift off. Head falling back against the rest of the sofa.

“My god she’s really sleeping.” Melissa whispers to Chucho about nearly four hours into the party. Eleven pm, nearly Christmas day. “Señor dame fuerza…” Her head falls into her hands while Chucho watches Andreas' fully laid out body in amusement. Her flats fully kicked off and her cheek squished to the leather.

The Peñas arrive quite late to the party. Lorraine dragged Javier to the church bathroom to scold him for embarrassing her. He kissed her hoping it’ll soften her up but she slapped his arm instead. “Don’t be mad please.” He pleads as she opens the restroom door. Lorraine looks over her shoulder with a frown.

With a snapping attitude and sarcasm, “Nice sweater.”

Javier looks down at the thing, his face softening at the sight of his own sweater that his uncle knitted himself. It’s a thick gray cable knit sweater. For a moment Javier wonders why he lets these things slide from Lorraine, just a few weeks before he nearly broke it off after her intrusive suggestion on how to get over his mothers absence.

Javi decides he’ll just drink tonight.

With his hands shoved in his nice jeans, the pants Chucho bought two years ago for him to be forced into every holiday. His keys in his back pocket jangling as he walks down the stairs to a slowly dying party as the night closes. The lights around twinkling and the smell of clove and cinnamon filling his nose. He passes two girls in Lorraine’s friend group, Hilda and Diana. “Do you think she’s drunk?”

“I don’t know, but it’s tragic.” Hilda giggles, sipping her beer. Both their eyes planted on Andrea, in all her Christmas tree glory. Surrounded by her large green dress, socked feet curled and the most peaceful face he’s ever seen. His brows knit together, it was unlike her to fall asleep in a place like this. He shoots a glare over at the two girls and walks straight past them, straight to her. He grabs a cracker crown from one of the tables. Ignoring Lorraine’s call as he makes his way next to Andrea.

For a moment he feels watched, a bit insecure as he surveys the room as people pretend to not stare at the two. He frowns before wrapping his hand around her ankle and shaking her awake. She stirs slightly but just furthers herself into comfortability. He drops his head in an endearing smile. “Andrea.” He calls to her and she jolts at the sound of his voice.

Her smooth nylon clad feet brushing over his lap, causing a flip in his stomach. Something stranger happens in his christmas jeans. “Oh!” She chirped, wiping her mouth clean of drool. “Javi!”

“Andrea.” He laughs moving her small feet from his lap. Leaning forward and placing the gold crown on her disheveled hair. She giggles slightly, and blinks her eyes into full awareness.

“Did I really fall asleep? What time is it?” She flattens her shimmery skirt. He just knows Melissa picked out the dress. He remembers the second summer they spent together, when her style changed completely. He knew she got her mother to back off on the kids catalogs, it seemed she still held higher ground when it came to christmas attire. Despite the forest pooling her body, to him she might have been the prettiest girl in the room, he should ask Santa Claus for a smack upside his head because the selfish thought came quickly and stuck like glue. Her shimmering eyes glance at the clock, fifteen to twelve. “Jesus!” She slaps her hand over her mouth at the decision to call the man out on his name, on his birthday and in a church. “I slept for so long.”

Javier chuckles a hearty laugh, “Yeah, decided to save you some embarrassment, you got quite comfortable.” His eyes fall to her feet. She burns mistletoe bow red and shoves them back into her flats. Still sitting up straight tenser than ever, and it aches his chest. He had her over just a week before, they joked around together in his house over dinner–he invited her to New Years at the bar. Two months before that the two sat awfully close on her couch watching Star Wars: A New Hope and signing up her one time homecoming date to awfully embarrassing subscriptions, using different personas and voices on the phone. Yet here, under everyone's surveillance she sat uptight and all frowning like she was afraid of being under the gaze of others. That drove him a bit crazy, she was his best friend too, hadn't she known?

Silence falls between them for a moment as he nurses his beer and she looks off, her mind running wild.

“You treat me differently when it’s not summer.” He blurts, bringing his drink to his lips. He knows why, he knows deep inside. Their summers together were organic, devoid of outside influences. She could just exist as Andrea, his Andrea. In summer she could just fall asleep on a couch and not have to worry about judging eyes. She could crush on Javier without guilt and restraint. He could call her pretty and not feel like the entire world is watching, prepared to scrutinize him. It was warm, it was easy to be close to one another, easy to ignore what others felt about them. Summers were just for them. It stirred something devastating in the cavity of his chest at the sight of her in a sweaty dress, with her hair done up and perfect posture. It wasn't her, it wasn't like her to be so afraid of him.

Her lips quirk in a polite fake smile, as her eyes survey the room. She’s extremely aware of the eyes on the two of them. Javier’s jaw clenched at the sight of Andrea of all people being fake to him. She clears her throat like he asked her a scandalous question. Then she turns to him all at once and he swears under her makeup he sees a hint of the freckles that deepen under the Texas sun, and her features fall all sincere, like he’s the only person in the room.

And she whispers, “Well maybe I don’t know how to be your friend in the winter.” Her eyes drop and her forehead forms that tiny crease of worry between painted brows. Javier’s stomach pits and maybe the holidays made him feel sentimental, maybe he’s afraid that being in the same school will somehow create a wedge in something he cherishes so deeply, maybe he feels like strangely time is running out. Perhaps he regrets meeting Lorraine at this time. It’s something about being surrounded by love, warmth and home cooked meals. Something about the sounds of chimes, organs and jingle bells in the music filling the air. Something about spending Christmas eve next to Andrea Diaz, something about not being able to kiss her under the mistletoe. Maybe because it actually snowed in Texas this Christmas, small flurries that didn’t stick–but snow nonetheless. He’s never had the urge to before but her, in front of him, at this time, with those eyes–he wonders what he’s doing wrong.

With his heart in his throat he can only muster out one thing.

“Merry Christmas.”

Christmas 1980-85

Houston isn't home. The holidays become a brain splitting headache he ignores for years to come. He's no longer seventeen. He had one holiday with her, and it wasn’t really with her, yet he can't imagine having one without her.

What a scary feeling.

#javier peña #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #ao3 #fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader

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thatbanditqueen · 2 years

Text

No One Walks Out on Big Daddy Chapter 1: Souvenirs

Summary: Rebecca is a young, single mom working a dead end job in Jackson, Mississippi when a chance encounter brings her into bed with Elvis in June 1975. Angst and smut follow....

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, smut, sex, oral, cursing, drug use and alcohol.

Words: 10,913

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Chapter 1: Souvenirs....

Monday, June 9th, 1975, Jackson, Mississippi

The metal shelf clinks as you set down another can of paint, only a few more left to restock. Your watch reads 5:59 p.m., one minute to closing. You let out a deep breathe, only to feel your stomach clench as the shop entrance bell rings. You yell out, standing up to walk towards the main walkway of the small store.

“We’re closed!”

You hear the low thud of footsteps slapping the linoleum as they get closer, and you repeat yourself.

“Are ya deaf? We’re fixin’ ta ——“

You stop, transfixed in space as your heart drops seeing Elvis’ body round the aisle entrance.

His voice growls.

“No wonder this store’s empty... employees here ain’t got no manners…” his lips betray a sly grin.

You swallow, meeting his eyes as he looks you over, pausing as you see him notice your belt. His belt. The belt of his that you walked out of the hotel with this morning while he was passed out. The belt you decided to wear all day long, savoring the light bouncing off the metal star, feeling the ridges on your fingers and smiling with pleasure as you remembered the night you spent on his chair. Floor. Bed…..

“Nice belt,” he mutters with a crooked smirk as he steadies himself, griping the larger, thicker and more ornate buckle at his own waist. Then he notices the ring you are wearing, you see his eyes fall on it and his eyebrows wiggle. Fuck fuck fuck….

“I guess ya caught me ——“ you say, and start to take it off. He laughs, and slides his sunglasses down.

“Honey, I didn’t even notice they was missin.’ ”

It is at this very moment that your cousin Harriet emerges from the other end of the aisle behind you, carrying another box of paint from the back room.

“OK Becks, I think this is the last of it, we ca—“ she drops the box when she sees Elvis, the sound of paint cans rolling across the floor rings through the store.

Elvis looks at you, shifting, and meets your gaze with a questioning face.

“Becks?” You’re frozen, your eyes look down as you try to think of what to say but stupid Harriet remembers how to use her mouth first and starts blabbling.

“Yeah, that’s Rebecca, I’m Harriet ! Oh my God, we are such big fans, especially Becky—”

“Huh, yeah, you don’t say?” he grins, interrupting Harriet. His voice is deep and powerful and he shifts and walks a few steps towards you. “Thought you said your name was Rachel…..?” He pauses then shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling. “Whoo man, you are sumpin’.”

You look at your feet, then steel yourself, turning around awkwardly to glance back at your cousin as she looks at you with wide, glaring, questioning eyes that grow even wider as she seems to get the gist of what’s going on and backs away in response to your silent hand movements signaling her to fuck off. Now. She quickly mouths an “Oh my god Elvis fucking Presley! I cannot believe you.” You shake your head at her, and turn back to Elvis.

“So if you’re not here to get your belt back, then……..?”

“You know I had my crew all over Jackson today lookin’ for you?”

Another gulp. You push yourself up and put your hands on your waist, pushing down the urge to run and jump onto his firm, wide waist and cling to his neck as you pepper his face with kisses. Summoned by the memory of his face looking up at you in awe as he brought you to climax while you rode him last night, slowly, forcefully, tears falling out as you orgasmed for the first time in god knows how long. You had tried to hide in his flesh, burying your face in the fur along his shoulder, embarrassed, blushing, trying to swallow the sobs that emerged uninvited. He’d coaxed you back out in front of him and shushed your whimpers as he wiped the tears away and whispered “everything’s ok, baby,” his hips continuing to meet yours as you fell even deeper on to his lap in a rhymic trance. His hands smoothing your face as you grasped his to yours and pressed your lips to his forehead, fucking away the pain and the loneliness and surging into Elvis' sweaty, warm, burly body.

That was then. You had allowed yourself to get caught up in the energy of the night, the concert, the party and the pull of Elvis’ magnetism as he’d focused his attentions on you. But the party was over, you had to go back to your life and you would be damned if you were going to make a fool of yourself fawning over him. You hate him right now. Last night was almost perfect, and now this is more than a one night stand. He’s making this hard, prolonging the inevitable and make the heartache even worse when it comes…. You resolve to get rid of Elvis… this is selfish and impossible and nothing good can come of dragging out what happened between you. Yes, fuck him.

“Hmmm… still doesn’t explain why the fuck you’re here?” You growl.

He steps toward you, inches from your face as he grabs your orange work vest and pushes you into the shelf behind you, the plastic of the paint swatch display board creaks against your body and you feel his weight press into you as the heat of his breath warms your ear. His left hand traces its way along his leather belt at your waist, pulling on the top of the buckle to bring you in closer. The air smells of cigars and a spicy, citrus cologne. Unlike you, Elvis had clearly showered today. His hair is slightly damp as it grazes your cheek, and he whispers.

“No one talks to me like that… I don know who hurt ya, honey, but you can drop the cold ass bitch act right now… .” He kisses the nape of your neck, right below your ear, and you shudder. You can feel some of your shields start to retract and fold down as Elvis’ voice turns from vinegar to honey. His right hand slides up from your work vest to your neck, gripping the base tightly at first, then softening and caressing your collarbone. ”I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you all day… ya left without even saying goodbye…“

Your head slumps forward in response, his gruff tenderness melting the ice out of you, your arms began to make their way up his chest. You are about to kiss him, but then you think of all the reasons this is a bad bad BAD idea, so you slap his chest instead and fortify yourself, conjuring up the most lifeless expression you can.

“Maybe it was better that way. You should stop thinkin’ bout me, I’m ain’t thought of you since I walked outta that fancy hotel this mornin’… I went back to my real life and you should too.”

You slip out of his grasp, turning around after a few steps to look over you shoulder and say “But if that is what you came for, then I’ll give it to you and say goodbye,” and with that you walk to the back of the shop.

Elvis stands there, stunned. He covers his mouth with his hand, rubbing it as he thinks, the swinging door to the back of the store flaps back and forth as he watches your long, dark hair bounce up and down in a messy bun through the small, square window. What the fuck just happened? He thinks. Used to be them begging you to let them come back to the hotel wit ya…. you’re loosing it, ole man. “No I ain’t, goddammit, it’s this fuckin’ stubborn ass chick…..why do you always like the crazy ones, huh Paco?” he mutters to himself, looking at the floor and shaking his head, before running his hand back through the fringe over his eyes. “Sonofabitch…” he growls, putting his hands in his jacket pockets as he marches after you.

You went to the storage room at the back, and leaned against the wall in-between stacks of building supplies and tools, hoping he had left. You take a deep breathe and think of last night. You had lied, of course you had, when you told Elvis that you hadn’t thought of him since you left his hotel this morning. You had been replaying the events in your mind all day…..

———

Sunday, June 8th, 1975

At this point in the summer you stop wearing make-up to work, the thick hot air in Jackson makes you rub your face so often it just felt ludicrous to try. It was almost 90 degrees outside, and your uncle refuses to put an air conditioner in his hardware store. There you sat, on top of the check out counter willing yourself to be as close to the ceiling fan as you could manage, when your cousin Danny rushed through the front door.

“Becky, you’ll never believe it!”

“What?”

“The station just gave me two press tickets for the Elvis concert tonight….”

“Since when are you press?

“I’m a DJ, aint I?”

“The overnight DJ….. how did you manage to swing these tickets over the prime time guys?”

“Well, George’s going tomorrow, and my boss didn’t realize we were getting passes for the three shows.. I was in the office when they got dropped off. “

Your sweaty thighs stuck to the counter as you slid off. You heart starts to beat faster, as you take in Danny’s intense energy.

“So wait, are you here because…..

“Wanna come?”

You squeal and jump up and down once, then try to compose yourself. You’re a grown ass women. You have a 9 year old kid. Stop jumping up and down like a teenager.

“Are you sure? You wanna bring me? What time does it start?”

“OK, so…..yes and yes - you’re the biggest Elvis geek I know…. concert starts at 8:30.”

“What about Ruth….?”

“My mom will watch her…. come on, Becks, when was the last time you cut loose?”

You nodded, wiping you brow, a hundred thoughts run through your head and collide. It had been over six months since you went out for a night on the town... New Years Eve.

“Pick ya up at 6:30? I wanna get there early….”

“Danny, that only gives me an hour to get back to the house and get ready…”

Harriet walked back in with your popsicles from the drug store next door,

“…Get ready for what?”

Of course Harriet covered for you. You sped back to your aunt and uncle’s house where you live with your 9 year old daughter Ruth. You shower quickly, mainly focusing on the crotch and underarms, no time for hair washing. That swampy humid mess would have to be pinned up. The few nice dresses you owned were too boring for a concert, they were for synagogue, or PTO meetings. It’s that or jeans, babe…..

Your eyes fall on your mustard yellow bell bottoms, a little more fun than jeans, these could look cool with a cute blouse and some gold hoop earrings. Understated. You want to be comfortable anyway. OK, outfit accomplished.

You had to choose between make-up and saying goodnight to Ruth, isn’t that how it always is…..? The thing about having a kid is that you never get to do everything on your list, you always have to choose, and the list is constantly expanding. You make your way to the living room where your daughter was watching TV with your aunt Ida, uncle Saul humming as he does the dishes in the kitchen. You grab a piece of garlic bread from the table, and, munching, sit down next to Ruth, mussing her hair.

“Y’all sure this is ok? We might be out real late…”

“Mom…. yes, you’re life is sooo boring. Finally I’ll have something to say about you at school.”

“Ok, great…you’ll appreciate boring when you get older…I love ya, baby, I’ll see you in the morning when I wake you up.” At 6 am….. DO NOT STAY OUT LATE, you warn yourself.

You stand up to go wait outside but Ida follows, walking over and cupping your face in her hands.

“You should be going out and having some fun, Rebecca, you’re 25 —

“I’m 26, Ida…almost 27”

“Ok, I’m sorry, 26, that’s a big difference, practically ancient…oy vey, my girl… 26 is still young….. Saulie and I used to go out, we went out even after we had the kids….We still like to go out, you know, your uncle can really cut a rug….”

“She speaks the truth!” Your uncle yells from the kitchen, poking his head out of the door way and wiggling his hips. “See, I can shake my hips just like Elvis.”

Ruthie busts up with giggles. Ida smiles, and tries to smooth your hair as you push her mothering hands away.

“You deserve this, kidlet. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone?”

“Yes, mom, bring me home a new dad…”

You shot Ruth a stern look, she was getting too sarcastic for 4th grade…. I wonder where she gets that?

“I’m not even looking for that, any guy who would pick me up at a concert isn’t new daddy material…they’re all sleezebags… I’m just excited to get out and dance and see Elvis … I don’t have time for a man anyway…. ”

“Don’t use me as an excuse for being boring and miserable mom….”

Then Ruth looks back at the TV. The sound of Danny’s car horn blasts through the walls.

“I’m gonna miss Rhoda tonight, maybe I shouldn’t go….”

“Leave!” “Get lost already!” “Have fun!” Your family yells, and you smile to yourself as you ran out into the night, jumping over the car door into your cousin’s white convertible with a thump as you sink down into the seat.

“Hmm, I thought you were gonna dress up a bit…”

“This was all I had time for, Danny boy. Plus, I don’t wanna scare off any of the girls who show up hot and heavy for Elvis and decide to settle for you…”

“Ha. Ha. Haaaaa.” Your cousin smiles, as he punches you in the shoulder, and you grab the joint from his other hand to suck it in - coughing as the rough sweet smoke hits the back of your throat. When was the last time you got high? New Years Eve? That was also the last time you got laid…. And it wasn’t even good. Why not indulge tonight? You ask yourself. All rules were out the window and you felt your heart beating through your chest as the cool air washed over you. You determined to leave all the baggage and bullshit at home, tonight was just for you.

You arrive at the coliseum around 7, one of Danny’s press badges hung around your neck as he led you through the back entrance into a large lounge. You let him do his thing schmoozing with some of the other people he knew from the Jackson radio and TV scene. Grabbing a beer, you walked through the crowd, looking at the posters from previous concerts and events on the wall. It was nice to just be silent, the freedom of not knowing or caring about anyone around you made you giddy. And the pot. And the beer. Those made you giddy, too. Danny found you before the show and ushered you to the press area, it was at the left side, only about 15 feet from the stage. You drank another beer, and started to move, even with no music playing, as you settled into being a part of the masses ebbing and flowing, moving with the heightened expectancy that hung in the air. You embraced the anonymity of being in the dark among thousands of people. The smell of hash wafted through the building, mixing with cigarette smoke, beer and sweat, all of which intensified when the music kicked off and the audience went wild. Danny lights up another joint and you both add to the earthy atmosphere in the audience.

Elvis ran through the blue curtains on the other side of the stage, wearing a white jumpsuit with wide bell-cut pants, wider than the ones you were wearing, a zebra pattern zig zagging down his legs. His top was open down his chest, with a wide collar, the hint of a belly protruding out. It was more pronounced when he leaned back and put his hands on his hips, exuding confidence and sheer joy as he absorbed the audiences’ energy. Elvis was older, broader and hairier than in any of the films you’d seen, it made him seem more powerful. The excitement in the arena was palpable, you throw back your head and let the music take over your body, dancing, jumping, unabashedly diving into the the moment. The feeling of your hoop earrings hitting your neck was sensual and felt so good, you turn your head side-to-side through the night just to feel them graze you again. You watch as women run up to the stage throughout the show, noticing how Elvis came alive and laughed as he bends down to kiss them and give them scarves. You’re overtaken by his voice, you expected it to be diminished by age or overuse, but it is more forceful in person, ripping through you and compelling you to let it own your entire being. Especially when he belts out those deep long notes. The sound waves crash into you, filling in the cracks from your broken, fucked up disappointed life, all your worries and obligations dissolve as the music takes over and you move with the throng.

The show ends, and Danny lights up another joint and passes it as you sit down to wait for the crowd to disperse. He smiles at you, laughing at your sweaty, giddy expression.

“You look happy, you look younger…I’m guessing this was fun, yes?…. Whose your favorite cousin?”

You hesitate for effect, then laugh and say “You….. course….”

“Good, because I need a favor...one of the producers invited me and the other radio DJs to the after party…. It would be a good networking opportunity… it would be a real nuisance to drive you home and back, I’d loose like an hour…..”

This sobers you up, and you purse your lips, starting to shake your head

“Maybe I should just grab a taxi home…”

“I thought you left grumpy Becky at home…? Come one, fun buzzed Becks wants to party…. You might even meet Elvis…”

“Ha, yeah… no, I don’t think so, I haven’t got the nerve….”

“There’ll be free food…?”

“Well, why didn’t you say so, jackass… I’m in, only because you got me stoned and I’m hungry… Let’s make a pact - we leave by midnight?”

“Yeah, no problemo - its only 10:15 now…. I have to be at the station anyway before 2 am to get ready for my show, so no argument from me…”

“Ok, cool….oy….I already know I’m gonna to feel this in the morning…”

The party is in the presidential suite of the Belhaven Hotel, it may be the only suite like this in Jackson, you think as you walk in, it is certainly the only one you have ever been in. You feel completely out of your element as you take in the ornate decor, the sheer largesse of the suite, with its kitchen, lounge and separate bedroom, it might be bigger than the house you live in with three other people. You try to feel at ease, embrace the high you still feel, the Eagles are playing on the stereo and the party is already in full swing. The women are what you used to call cotton club debs back home in Birmingham, they looked like the country club set who came from old tobacco or cotton money, just sluttier. Maybe they’re high class hookers? You giggle as you think this, but you feel even more self-conscious as you swear you see one whisper to her friend “Who let the trash in?” when you walk by. Danny is uninhabited, he’s an extrovert, especially now when he’s around music people, he doesn’t even notice the glamorous guests or surroundings, he just rushes in and starts talking to people. You nod at him as he introduces you to some of the other local DJs, some one hands you a beer, and you start to relax.

It’s another hour before Elvis and his entourage arrive, but it was impossible to miss their entrance. Everything stopped as they walked in and you felt the rush of air as people swarmed towards the man of the hour. You did not even try to get close, you watch from afar. He was wearing sunglasses and a silk blue collared shirt under a heavy fur coat. In June. In June in Mississippi. A season when the air hugs you tightly just to let you know that you belong to it and the overgrown kudzo and the deep red dirt.

It’s surreal to be in the same room as Elvis Presley, and you take in his stance and the group around him, watch as he kisses the women who push their way up to him. You quickly decide that this is definitely not your scene, you don’t want to ruin your fantasy or memories of listening to Elvis’ music and marinating in the sweet, tender neediness you always felt his voice conveyed. The Elvis in front of you strikes you as cocksure, jaded, larger than life and he knows it - dressed like a superfly pimp straight out of Shaft. You shake your head, everything from this night has coalesced into an absurd adventure. You owe Danny for this, you haven’t had this much fun in a while. You turn around to go find a drink, opting for a Pepsi as you realize its already 1145 and you want to be somewhat not drunk when you drag Danny out of here and go home in the next half hour or so.

12:15 rolls around, Danny is no where to be seen and you find yourself cornered in the kitchen being talked at by Joe, a short stocky guy from Elvis’ entourage. He’s wearing a printed shirt, leather jacket, is coming on hard and getting handsy. You know he is part of Elvis’ crew because he said it five fucking times. You can’t figure out why he’s chatting you up, but you gave him a fake name because he makes you feel uncomfortable with the way he’s boxing you in to the corner and licking his lips. He smells like hamburgers and too much cologne. Its not fair, if he was handsome or charming, you probably wouldn’t care. But he’s neither, you’re not interested and you’ve been politely trying to give him the cold shoulder. The night would have been perfect if you had left 30 minutes ago, goddamn you Danny, where are you? You accidentally let a laugh out as you think of Ida’s hopeful look, Maybe you’ll meet someone tonight. Assholes and married men, Ida, that’s all that’s left for me. You laugh again, in your own head, wondering what she would think of the prospect in front of you and then you notice his stare and try to remember what he was telling you about Chicago, but you can’t so you start to giggle. Fuck, you are still buzzed and a little high.

“What’s so funny?”

You tell the truth, why not, you don’t care what Joe buddy here thinks.

“I didn’t really have time to get ready for the show tonight, I came straight from work, I didn’t think any guy would even bother me, ‘specially with all them here.” You motion to the other partiers, the gorgeous women decked out with big hair and big make up and little dresses.

Joe misinterprets what you are saying, you’re trying to give him the brush off, let him know he is bothering you, but he thinks you doubt his intentions and moves in closer, reassuring you that he’s definitely trying to fuck you as he puts his hand on your waist. Uh oh…

“Hey, that’s why I came over here, I like plain girls, I don’t care for those high maintenance types. You look so normal… it really turns me on.” Fuck, fuck, fuck, you cringe as the hand at your waist tightens. “Plus, my boss over there gets competitive, I knew I wouldn’t get in EP’s crosshairs talking to a girl like you.”

“Gee, thanks…” you say, as you whisper into your drink, “I can see why he sees you as competition, you are a real lady killer….. pure charm….”

Whack!

Something small and hard hits you in your eye and you stagger to the side, crying out loudly in pain as you feel the sting of salt, salt? and hear your voice boom “What the fucking cocksucking fuck was that?”

The room is quiet, except for some hushed laughs, and you look down to see a pretzel on the floor, how did a small projectile weapon turn into a pretzel after it hit you square in the eye? Fuck you’re still high….. You clutch your right eye protectively as you look around the room and notice Elvis Presley, the Elvis Presley, looking at you like the cat who swallowed the canary and pointing to the short white guy next to him.

“I saw Charlie here throw it, miss, he was a-a-a aimin’ for that bastard a standing beside ya…he just can’t throw for shit is all.” A laugh escapes Elvis’ lips, but then he summons a solemn face. The music is turned back up, and conversations rekindle as you watch Elvis stride toward you. He throws off his coat on the back of the couch, sauntering over slowly with his hands out in front of him. As he gets closer, he pushes his sunglasses down a smidge and you can see his blue eyes, mirthful but also tired, with a dash of sympathy for you.

“Let me take a look at ya, honey, don’t worry, I’m a medical expert.”

Elvis reaches for your hand, pulling it aside and pushing your chin up with the other. You feel the cold metal of his ring press into the bottom of your jaw. A shiver moves up your spine at his touch. Your eye still smarts as you blink up at him. Up close, you can see the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, the creases in his neck, but he is still astonishingly handsome. So much for not talking to Elvis.

“You swear like a sailor, anyone ever tell you that?”

“Only after they try to blind me…”

Elvis laughs as he looks at you, and you try to be cool and act like you are just talking to a random guy at a random party that you randomly ended up at.

“What’s the diagnosis, doc, think I’ll be able to keep it?”

Elvis chuckles.

“Joe, go be useful for once and get some ice in a napkin for ——“

“Rachel —— “ Joe answers for me. You immediately regret telling Joe your name is Rachel, you would have liked to hear Elvis say your real name in that throaty baritone voice.

“For Rachel here… that’s a good boy, off ya go, she wadn’t interested in your ugly mug anyhow.”

A scowl passes over Joe’s ugly mug, but he does as he’s told. Your eyes meet Elvis’ as he turns back to you and steps closer, tracing your eyebrow with his fingers, pushing his belly into you, blocking your view of the rest of the party, the rest of the world, the entire universe is just Elvis Presley’s thick body. You shudder, and he feels it, a crooked grin breaking out across his face as he relishes the heavy breathe that escapes your mouth, as if he likes provoking this nervous response from women. You feel like you just lost some sort of wrestling match you never sign up for.

“I’m a healer, you know, I have a gift…. I can touch your affliction and make it go away…” his face is boyish almost and his eyes are alight as he jokes around.You feel yourself soften, something about Elvis’ warmth and the steady hand that has made its way to your waist puts you at ease.

“That’s lucky, cuz I’m fairly convinced you were the one tryin’ to blind me.”

“Huh, you sayin Imma a liar….?”

“You said it, not me….I jus think you looked awful guilty when I looked over is all… poor Charlie….”

“He’ll be alright, he’s used to covering for me by now.”

“So you admit it - a ha!”

“I really was a aimin’ for Diamond Joe over there… though you looked so unhappy, maybe I did ya a favor—“

“Don’t worry, I am quite capable of taking care of myself, if you hadn—“

“Well, ya looked stuck to me - but hey, let’s Joe back over here and I’ll leave y’all to it….”

You hit Elvis in the chest, “Don’t. Please.”

He grabs your hand and holds it there, his other still soothing the area around your eye, and you instinctively pull in closer to him when Joe returns with the ice, grunted a “here,” before stomping off. Like you said, pure charm.

“Hey honey, let me do that,” Elvis holds the ice over your eye, his other hand now rests on top of your shoulder. You sigh, looking up at the ceiling, wondering how late it is and where the fuck Danny is and why you are starting to feel aroused looking up at Elvis’ long hair and meaty jaw hovering over you, his eyes amused as he feels you fidget with your hands on the counter.

“I was a aimin’ for Joe, just so we’re clear…”

“Ok, well in that case I forgive you…”

“Good, so we can be friends, then?”

“Sure…”

“You enjoy yourself tonight?”

“T’wasn’t bad, I’m just not, you know, not a big Elvis fan…”

Elvis grins, leaning closer.

“Me neither…. I fuckin’ hate Elvis…”

You exhale, bite your lip, fuck, fuck fuck…. are you flirting with him? Was he flirting with you? A tingling feeling starts in your core, it scares you, you haven’t felt that electric burn in a while. You clamp up, feeling how intimate and close you’ve become with him.

“OK, I think I’m good,” you say, pushing Elvis’ hand away from your eye.

Elvis’ steps back, but doesn’t move, he stays there looking at you, and after a few awkward moments you can’t bear it anymore. You think of something that will get rid of that urge to pull him to you and rip off his clothes, will get rid of him….

“Guess you really do have healing powers, maybe you can do something about my genital warts.”

You say it with a straight face, some dry humor to break the mood. Oh dear god what is wrong with you and why did you say the first thing that came to your head. No more pot for you. Ever. Elvis is silent for a beat, and then leans his head back in a loud, deep belly laugh.

“Man, you are one funny chick….man” he laughed again,

“Oh no, I’m 100 percent serious,”

“Baby, if you wanted to show me your beaver, you don’t need no pretense, jus go right ahead…”

You look down, inhaling, You thought he’d be grossed out and step aside. You see Danny emerge through suite’s door with a few of his friends, he must have gone outside to smoke more pot or something. You look back at Elvis.

“Usually talking about genital warts has the opposite effect on men, scares ‘em off.”

“That what you tryin to do? Get rid of me? Or seduce me?”

“Get rid of you... I usually prefer talking to good looking men.” You smirk, raising an eye brow.

Elvis clasped his hands on his heart, pursing his lips, and staggers back a step in mock despair. You smile again, then look at your watch: 12:50. Time to go, time to turn back into a pumpkin. Elvis follows your eyes, a look of disapproval on his face as you notices you checking the time, but before he can say anything, Charlie comes up and whispers in Elvis’ ear that the governor just arrived with his wife, and they are ready to take a photo downstairs.

“Hey, alright, honey, don’t go anywheres I’ll be right back.”

You nod, but the second Elvis’ is out of sight you move quickly, grabbing Danny.

“Where were you? I have to wake up Ruth in five hours, then open the store…”

“Were you just talking to Elvis?”

“Yes…. I’ll tell you ‘bout in the car, let’s go….” As you walk, you stop Danny on the shoulder. “I gotta pee, you go get the car and I’ll meet you at the front door?”

Danny nods, and you find the bathroom. Washing your hands, you catch yourself in the mirror and smile. You look tired, pale, and exhausted, but also happy - there is a glow in your eyes you haven’t seen in a while. “Hey stranger…. it’s good to see fun Becky,” you say to your reflection, smiling deeper, still exhilarated from the concert, the party, the few moments you spent with Elvis. You need to make a point of going out more often.

You’re still smiling as you wait for the elevator, when you look up to see Elvis come off with Charlie, Joe and another guy you haven’t met. He locks eyes with you.

“You ain’t leavin’?” He asks, looking down at you above his sunglasses.

“I gotta…” you mumble. Elvis flicks his head towards the hotel suite and the guys go ahead without him. He steps toward you backing you into the hallway table across from the elevator as he follows you, and lightly touches your waist.

“Like hell ya are, I told ya I would be right back…haven’t had the chance to work my healin’ powers over that pussy a your's yet…”

You gasp and look up at him, eyes full of shock as you take in his devious, dark blue eyes. He works his hand down over your pants, between your legs, cupping you there. You pull back.

“I think I gave you the wrong impression…”

“Hmmm…. Are you sure….?” He whispers deeply in your ear, then kisses your neck. You pull back further, but his body moves with you and he lifts you on to the side table, thrusting between your legs, his wide berth pushing you open.

“I didn’t come here trying to get with you——“

“I know it honey ——“ He says as he starts to kiss your neck.

“——I’m not a groupie——“ You say, a feverish moan escaping your lips as Elvis presses his soft lips to your mouth. You feeling the tight charge of arousal ignite.

He pauses, looking into your eyes. “Trust me, I can tell——“

Elvis kisses you again, groaning slightly, you feel his tongue in your mouth, gentle, then rough, then his teeth tug on your bottom lip. You gasp again, as he holds you steady at the waist, kissing the top of your exposed left shoulder, grunting.

“— I never do this — … there’s a whole room of women over there who came here to ju ——“

Elvis moves a finger up to your lips, his other hand pulling on the empty belt loops at the side of your pants, looking at you, holding you close.

“Shhh, stop that now, those hens s’are as boring as hell, rather be with you, you can tell me all about those genital warts——“

“Ughhh, don’t remind me I said that… I don’t even know why…”

“Me neither suga… I don’t know why but that was the moment….I thought, if this girl has VD she’s probably real good in the sack…I gotta find out tonight…“ he laughs as his hands move under your blouse, slowly, and he takes in the heave of your breathing, pushing his hands under your bra as he rest them on your breasts while they moving up and down with each inhale. His eyes are locked with yours, not asking for permission but watching for rebuff. The delicate touch of his fingers feels so good, you close your eyes and part your lips in a low exhale. Your earrings hit your neck as you turn your head slightly and you let out a small moan.

“I never do this…one night stands… not with rock stars…..not with anyone….” You pull on his buckle, drawing him in, kissing his chest.

“S’ok, baby, I’ve done it a lot, I’ll show ya how it works——“ his face cracks into a crooked grin.

You laugh, then sober up for a moment as you take in the this situation, this has gotten out of hand. You look at Elvis and let go of his pants, pushing him back and pulling down your bra and your shirt. You are in a public hallway, what the fuck are you doing?

“Oh god oh god…. I can’t……my cousin brought me to this party, he just went to get the car - I need to go——“

Elvis charges back into you, his forehead meeting yours as he leans in and his voice echoes in the space between your mouth and his.

“Go tell him you’re gonna stay … I’ll go get rid of everyone else….”

“Shut down your party?”

“Yup… there’s only one thing I wanna do and it ain’t listening to the goddamn Eagles or making small talk with strangers….”

“I don’t—“

“You want me to go downstairs and tell your cousin I’m gonna fuck your brains out? Don’t try me, women, cause honey, I will….”

You exhale again and look up as he caresses your thighs, the aching need to pull him into you overpowering any sense or reason in your head.

“Fuck it,” he growls. “You’re comin’ with me, I’ll send Jerry downstairs, I’m not lettin’ ya outta my goddamn sight.”

You just nod, dumbstruck, your vagina has taken over and will be making all the decisions from now on. She is telling you to find somewhere more private to tear this man’s clothes off. Now. Elvis pushes back into kiss you, your arms reach up around his neck, his eyes ablaze, you think he is reading your mind.

“Ok,” you stutter as he smiles, lifting you off the table and gripping you around your waist to walk you back into the hotel suite. He motions for one of the guys, whispering into his ear. The man nods and leaves. Oh god Danny, don’t judge me…. You think to yourself.

Elvis loosens his grip on you and walks to the center of the room, yelling out, “Alright everyone, I reckon I’m ready to turn in.”

You watch as Charlie turns the stereo off, and starts turning off the main lights, leaving a few table lamps aglow. Others start guiding people out. Elvis winks at you as he says good night to the guests while they leave, and you make your way to the sofa, plopping down, looking up at the ceiling. Trying to get a handle on the electricity running through your belly, the anxious, nervy feeling of anticipation. You haven’t had sex in six months. And that wasn’t even good sex…. it’s too depressing to wonder how long its been. What if you are bad…or boring in bed…. How did this happen? How much you will regret it tomorrow? You shove those thoughts away, all you want is to feel Elvis strong fingers again on your skin. Joe comes out of the kitchen area and glares at you, pulling out a piece of paper, he calls out the names of Elvis’ entourage and gives each of them room keys, a few have women hanging on their shoulders. Joe is the last to leave, giving Elvis a salute, you hear them mutter a few words to each other, and then its just you.

Elvis turns towards you, wiggling his eye brows as he strides over. You let out a nervous giggling shriek, and jump up. He grabs your hand and pulls you into him.

“Alright honey, first lesson in one night stands - find the bedroom….” He kisses the top of your head, you stretch your arm around him, grabbing flesh at his hips as you lean into his shoulder.

You follow Elvis’ lead pushing off shoes as you enter the bed room suite. You shudder, nervous, aroused, exhausted but also WIDE awake, lust and adrenaline pounding up from your toes into your chest. You look over at him.

“You want something to drink?”

You shake your head, and slip from his shoulder to pivot in front of him, moving your fingers up his chest and around his neck, spreading them over his shoulders.

“Naked?”

“Huh?” he asks.

“I’m just guessing here, but step two is getting naked, right?”

You gently and deliberately start to unbutton his shirt, leaning up to kiss his lips.

“Whoo, slow down baby… I’m a gonna grab some water, its been a long night… let’s take it ….slow….” Elvis winks at you again as you breathe in, and he strolls over to the side table to pour himself a glass of water.

He sits on the big chair in the corner, and pats his thigh, summoning you and you answer, sliding onto his lap and running your hand through his hair as you rest your arm across his shoulder. Elvis takes a sip, then brings the glass to your lips, watching your neck as he tilts the glass further. You feel him stiffen a bit in his pants as he watches you gulp the water down, straining slightly to match the pace at which he pours the liquid into your mouth, a satisfied smirk spreading across his lips as he stops and finishes the water himself, slamming the glass down with a potent clang on the side table. You swallow, jutting out your chin, watching his eyes lids droop for a moment with desire, he is still wearing his sunglasses and he stops your hand from removing them.

“I need ‘em to see, baby…I’m an ole ole man….” he says, somewhat playfully, but you sense, for the first time tonight a vulnerability there…. you want to comfort him. You nod, accepting this without question, reaffirming your attraction as you bend to kiss him, your lips needy and firm as his right hand comes up to caress your cheek with his fingers.

“Wearing glasses doesn’t make ya old, you know….my sister was wearing glasses at three….. old men can’t do what you did on stage tonight, I’d like to see my daddy try… now he is an old man.”

“I’m probably old enough to be your daddy….” His voice drops a register, and he grins, his hand moves to your throat as he kisses you back.

“I don’t think these glasses are working, you woulda have to be, uh, 12 or 14 when you had me,”

He pulls back, looking you over.

“What, aren’t you about 20, 21…?

“Uh uh, now you’re making me feel old…I’m ‘bout to be 27 next month…”

“Man, my sight is really going, I usually only go for hot young chicks….”

“Ha, well, like I said, I usually like my men handsome, but here we are,” you add with an impish smile, and he laughs.

“Yeah…. here.. we…are…” he says, slowly, softly, as he moves to lift your blouse over your head and undo your bra, sitting back to stroke his fingers across your breast, his eyes darkening as he tweaks both of your nipples at the same time.

Your eyes close as a “fuckkkk” slips out of your mouth. You feel the blood run to your core as it starts to pulsate. You open your eyes and watch Elvis’s lips part as his eyes are wide with want and desire, he tugs again, a little harder, and you stifle a low scream because the insistent mix of pain and pleasure is sending a current of want through your chest and down into your tingling clit. He releases, and you press into him, your kisses are now demanding, and his tongue meets yours as you start to unbutton his shirt, the silky fabric welcoming as you insistently grasp his chest and neck. You are driven by an aching awareness that Elvis is wearing too much clothing, and you seek out contact with his warm skin. You come up for air, his shirt is pulled out from his pants, his lips are at your neck, and you can feel his erection as your hands release the last button from the bottom of his shirt. You swallow hard, feeling as though you might erupt, and he raises his right eyebrow at you, and you feel his hands push gently on your shoulder, pushing you down between his legs, his eyes are filled with a dark, savage need, tempered by his questioning eyebrow, and you bite your lip and work on unbuckling his belt. What the fuck is this buckle, it’s huge and too hard to undo... its different from the costume belt that he wore over this jumpsuit at the show, this one has an engraved, elaborate gold sheriff’s star as its buckle.

Elvis shakes his head, batting away your hands as he undoes his own belt, unzips his pants and lifts to pull down his trousers. There is no underwear, just the long expanse of Elvis’ cock at half mast, hardened but not taut, a curiosity in both size and the foreskin rolling back to reveal the head. You’ve never encountered an uncircumcised penis before, and you reach your fingers forward gently to touch the head, following with your mouth to lightly kiss it, sweetly, tenderly, your eyes moving upward as you watch Elvis looking down at you, his mouth agape, his lip curled back in pleasure as your own arousal builds between your legs. You steady yourself on your knees and open your mouth wider to take him in half way, pulling in as you return to the tip to create suction that is rewarded with the low utterance of a “goddamn…” His head tilts back in pleasure, and his hand moves through your hair, down your jawline where his knuckles gently caress your cheek as you push back on to him, and he grips your hair, pulling. The firm tug hurts, you start to feel like his cock is suffocating you but the insistent pace causes your own arousal to spread, you feel it right below your chest as you surge in and out, sucking and breathing hard and following with your hand, as you feel his cock strain and flex in response to the encouragement of your mouth. The butterflies in your belly flutter as you hear him groan every time you swell forward to take him to the hilt and push through the gagging feeling at the back of your throat. You savor the firm, salty musk of his manhood as his hand yanks your hair even tighter, and he draws you on in an increased rhythm.

“Fuckin’ goddammit woman, ughhhh…. “ his fingers pull you back into him, then let go as he pulls out of you mouth. “Whooo, whoo….. don’t wanna blow my gasket just yet…..”

You scoot backwards, still on your knees, wiping the spit from your mouth as Elvis joins you on the floor, removing your earrings from each ear, pulling each one out slowly, his mouth open in concentration, tenderly kissing your earlobe as he does this, before taking off his glasses. Elvis sits up on his haunches, you rest on your knees across from him and he pulls you in, kissing you as his hands move to your pants fidgeting with them.

“It’s ‘bout time these came off….”

You pull his shirt and throw it to the side before he pushes you below him on the carpet,

He hovers above you, still fully erect, and you help as he tugs off your pants and underwear and throws them to the side. Calmly, gently, Elvis leans over you and kisses you, his fingers finding you moist and welcoming between your legs. He pushes your knees apart, looking down into your sex, thumbing your nub, and whistles.

“Don’t see anything amiss ‘round here… looks, pretty, pink, healthy…. must be my healing powers working already…”

You let out a “Ha!” Followed by an insistent come hither curling of your index finger, you almost don’t recognize the brazen hussy who has possessed your body and commands Elvis, saying “I know it’s pretty baby, but I didn’t open my legs just you for you to stare - come here and fuck me already.”

“Hey…don’t tell me what to do, woman!”

Then he tickles you at the hips, his eyes laughing as he moves between your legs and leans to shut you up with a forceful kiss.

He looks into your eyes, raises his eyebrows in question as he hesitates, but then pushes forward - looking down as he enters, slowly, and you gasp and clench at the sharp first thrust. Elvis moves thoughtfully, gently, his eyes look to yours, exhaling deeply as he pulls out after only going into you halfway.

“I can feel you tense up, honey,” he says, and you feel embarrassed. Watching the cloud pass over your eyes and he soothes you, rubbing your side.

“It’s been a while….” You try to explain. But you are slightly perplexed, you’ve never had a guy pause, they’ve always just shoved their way in and after the first few thrusts it would be ok….

“Ain’t nothin wrong with a tight little puss, I just need to go find a shoe horn or something….”

You belt out another laugh.

“I don’t know how I should feel with you making jokes about my pussy as you fuck me….”

“Huhhh, I’m kidding round…. just needs some attention s’all….” And he grins, a wicked grin, and you gasp as you cannot believe what Elvis is doing. Your last boyfriend never did this, and the one before that made it very clear what a chore it was…

You push up on you elbows as you watch him kiss your nipples and work his way down to the bottom of your belly, planting a kiss on the top of that hairy patch guarding your entrance. Elvis parts your cunt, biting his lip, looking back up at you as you take in the largess of his tan body, the slight paunch at his center and watch as his arm shakes a little when he rests down on his elbow . He licks your clit softly with his tongue, slowly, looking up at you as he does, letting his spit work down to your opening. You shudder with each fervent lap, it is almost too intense, and your hips buck forth reflexively as you relish and embrace each flick, calling out to the ceiling as he uses his fingers to work you open. Elvis moves closer, worshiping you with his tongue, his head rocks up and down, his breathing heavy, you feel a tingling around your core as you become slippery. As your desire builds, you grip his hair and pull him up you.

“Bed,” you are able to breath out, “let’s go to the bed.”

Elvis nods, standing above you and pulling you up, letting you lead him to the soft, satin sheets that have been waiting patiently for you while foolishly got carpet burn on your ass. He jumps ahead of you on to the bed, rolling over and positioning himself against the headboard and grinning a dumb, goofy sex smile.

“Get up here and let a man catch his breath.”

You slap his shoulder, lifting your knee as you straddle over him, guiding his cock into you, watching him closely as you bear down slowly and use his shoulders to steady your movement. A low sigh escapes his mouth as you hit down on his hips, completely enveloping him into you.

“Oh Gawd almighty…..”

You smile, and thrust your self back and forth, rocking into him, your mouth breathing into his forehead as his arms grip the sides of your waist, pulling you up, then moving to your breasts, cupping over them as they bounce up and down with your movements. The sensation is heady, intimate, his brow becomes sweaty and his lips purse into a diamond shape as his breath is measured and quick. You plunge down, burying him deep inside your soft cunt, his eyes begging you to continue,

“Oh god baby, gawd…fuck”

Looking into his eyes an intensity builds as you almost breath in tandem with each other. His fingers hold onto you, firm, rough, possessing you, he grunts as he speeds up the pace with his hands on your handles.

You start to feel an overpowering flame erupt in your core, tears forming at the side of your eyes unbidden. A sob bursts forth. Elvis stops moving, his lip is still curled in intense passion but his eyes are questioning.

“You ok, honey?”

You nod your head, and keep going, riding the waves of your orgasm as you bounce up and down on him, burying your head into him, wiping the tears on his hairy shoulders, grabbing his neck and pulling your self closer.You laugh, sob, then laugh again, sitting back in the saddle of his lap, holding the thick handles at his waist and wiping your eyes. He slows his upward thrusts, soothing your face with the back of his hand.

“I’m ok, I’ve just never cum during sex before… I didn’t think I could…. I dunno why I am crying, its just … ugh… so silly…” and you laugh again.

He holds you at your shoulders, feeling you tremble, leaning up to kiss you.

“Ain’t nothin more natural, honey, s’fucking hot is what it is… ”

You pick up your pace, smiling, letting him draw you in closer as he pushes his face between your breasts, then holds you still.

“I’m close, I gotta get on top,” he announces, and you fall back, as he moves onto you from above, rolling into you slowly, gently looking in your eyes to make sure you are ok. You grab him to you, your legs wrapping around him as you move your hips up to meet his thrusts and he plunges in more vigorously, grunting and heaving and breathing out quickly. The close hum of your bodies anchored together is so heady, you feel like you are merging, like you are breaking each other apart and becoming something new together. The view of him over you, gasping, sweaty, his hair hanging down over you, is intoxicating.

“Goddammit…. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, “ he yells, as he pulls out of you and explodes on your belly, jerking him self with a few final tugs of his wrist, and you sigh and lean up to watch. He then collapses back, your heads now point in opposite directions, your limbs intertwined in a sweaty, heaving mess. You don’t care about the sticky liquid that drips off you onto the bed, you just need to catch your breath.

“Goddamn, goddamn….” He mutters under his breath, moving his head to look over at you. He pushes himself off the bed with a bit of strain and a sharp exhale, walking to the bathroom and returning with a towel.

“Such a gentlemen,” you murmur and he chuckles, as you wipe your self off, watching him stroll over to one of his travel cases and pull out medicine vials. He brings them back, and sits next to you on the edge of the bed, unfastening them and tossing back a few pills without needing any water. He looks over at you.

“Want some… they help me sleep…”

You shake your head

“Get in here, s’bedtime” He says, again, its not so much a request as a command. A tenderly voiced command as Elvis lies back, and pulls you into him and you nestle your chin on his chest.

“Gawd, honey, I don’t know what ta say… I haven’t rassled like that in a good long while…”

He sees you lift your eyebrow.

“Hey, you don’t have ta believe me. Maybe I’m not old, but I’m not young neither… I’m forty…. forrrteeee……and I feel it. I feel it…. I love preforming, but it takes the wind out of me… just wanna pass out more nights after a show on the road than not.”

“Huh….. same.”

“Ha…”

“I never do this, on a weeknight?” I tell him. “Between work and life, I’m fit to pass out by 10.” You think of Ruth, how much you love her, how much you wouldn’t go back and change anything, but also how the last 10 years seem to have sped by and you’ve almost time traveled to thirty and still haven’t figured out what you want to do with with your life or how you will do it because its hard enough to just get through each day... but why think about these things now, you left that behind for tonight...

Elvis pulls you in tighter, kissing the top of your forehead, and you are brought back to the moment, you want to stay in this as long as you can.

You talk for a bit, mumblings, as you tell him how you work two jobs, live with your aunt and uncle, work at their hardware store, grew up in Birmingham, he seems genuinely interested. You decide not to mention that you moved here after you got knocked up at 16, you decide not to tell him about Ruth, something in the back of your head warns you not to get too deep, share too much. Though you almost tell Elvis your real name, guilt tugs at your conscious. What you have shared feels intensely intimate, you’re here naked, lying in his arms, having experienced sex unlike any sex you’ve ever had. The word sex doesn’t even seem to really describe what this was. You usually find one night stands disappointing, selfish, focused on getting some asshole off who doesn’t know your body or care to find out.

After about ten minutes Elvis words start to run together, he kisses you absentmindedly on your head as he starts to slur nonsense, as if he were drunk or fucked up. Those must be some sleeping pills. In moments he is passed out completely. You lay next to him, tracing your finger along the ridge of his chest, down his belly to his hips and back. Looking at his face, trying to burn this moment into your mind forever, so you will always be able to conjure it up when you want to, when he is gone and you go back to the daily hustle. You turn and look at the clock. It’s 4 am. You lay back, staring at the ceiling, trying to fall asleep but you are nervous, adrenaline is still running through you, working against the post coital nod. By 4:45, Elvis is snoring, and you decide to just enjoy the feeling of being next to a man, next to this man. You play with the waddle under his chin, stroking it gently with your thumb.

At 5 am you slip yourself out of Elvis’ hold and get dressed, realizing you cannot look out of the windows to see how bright it is because they’re covered with aluminum foil behind the curtains. Glancing around, you suddenly feel the urge to take something. You grab that goddamn tricky belt with the sheriff star buckle, and put it in your purse. Then you help yourself to one of his rings, a large diamond star that fits on your ring finger, you throw that in your purse as well. Souvenirs to look at when you want to remember tonight. You sneak out of the bedroom, staggering back when you spot Joe sitting on the couch, his face lit by the embers of a cigarette he is smoking in the dark, contempt in his eyes as he watches you walk out.

“Hope you had fun…”

“Thanks, I did…”

He takes a drag of his cigarette, and blows it towards you.

“Congrats, you must be quite talented, I didn’t take you for a groupie…..but I also didn’t think the old boy could still get it up, he’s usually so stoned out of his gourd on those fucking pills……..”

Your eyes narrow as Joe continues.

“You know, he only screwed you to make me mad… it’s something he does, he likes to play games with us, his friends, his employees…. fuck with our heads, show us whose boss…never, ever, in a million years would he have fucked a thick, ugly bitch like you if I hadn’t been talking to you first.”

You turn to leave, feeling something, anger, self hatred, insecurity, a mixture of all three bubble up in your stomach. Joe is clearly jealous, fuck him, you’ll be fucked if you let this asshole get the last word.

“Well, then Joe, I owe you a thanks, I think I just had the best lay of my life. “ You make a mock bow towards him, then strut out the door without another look back. You put the belt on in the elevator, a sense of pride washing over you as you think about Elvis all the way through the lobby, into a cab and home, when you get back into time get Ruth off to school and collapse in your bed for a few hours before you have to go open the store. You did not get to shower, and it’s day three for your hair. Fuck. It was worth it.

———

Here you are, leaning against the wall of storage room at work, trying to will the wall to open up and transport you somewhere else. A tight, anxious ball has formed in the pit of your stomach.You hear the sharp sound of boots sauntering along the linoleum, and your heart drops as you realize Elvis followed you back here. He stops in the doorway, leaning into the frame.

“Goddamit, why are you so fucking difficult? I do not go ‘round begging stubborn, obstinate chicks to come out. They beg me.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Presley to have to be the first person to ever tell you no, but you don’t always get what you want. I have a life, I have obligations….. I can’t come out tonight, I have to close up shop here,” you tell him.

Harriet’s voice rings out loudly from the hallway

“No she doesn’t!!!!”

Elvis laughs.

“I like her, maybe I can get her instead…”

You roll your eyes.

“Go right ahead…..I have other responsibilities after work too….. a life, you know? I have things I have to do…”

Elvis looks at the floor, looks up at you, as he places one hand on his hips and raises the other up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, his eyelids squeeze with anger. You can see him shake with a tremor of rage as he shifts in place and adjusts his sunglasses. With his large coat, he has expanded to fill the entire doorway, once again, overtaking your view of the world. For some reason the sheer expanse of his presence makes you want to jump onto his chest, wrap your legs around his waist and drag him down on to the cold, grimy storage room floor to have your way with him. Once again, you resist. Harriet’s stupid happy head bobs behind Elvis, as she leans over before heading out the back door.

“Hey, I’m heading out, don’t worry about anything, I’m heading over to my parents place and I’ll let them know you’ll be out….” she winks, a big, exaggerated wink, just to make sure you get the message she’s broadcasting.

“Just lock the front door on your way out.” She adds.

You hate her and you hope Harriet can feel the anger shooting from your eyes into the back of her skull. Elvis smiles as he watches her walk out the back door. Then he turns to you. Ugh, if you go to him now, he’ll have won, he’ll think he can get anything he wants. Like a spoiled, fucking child. Who needs to be put in his place.

“Right, ‘nuff bullshit, let’s go.”

You lean back.

“I’m not dressed right….…” you pull on your orange work vest, looking down at the old Destin tee underneath, the faded jeans, the converse shoes.

Elvis punches the door frame.

“I give exactly zero fucks whatcha wearing cuz I’m fixin’ to rip it off anyway, god fucking dammit. You’re not gonna need any clothes when I’m fucking done with you, goddamn brat!” He inhales and shakes out the rage, tries to be more calm as he announces, “I’m not leaving this goddamn room until you come with me.”

You look him dead in his eyes, crossing your arms, throwing down the gauntlet.

“Make me.”

Click here to read Chapter 2

If you like this, please reblog, comment and like! And let me know you would like to be added to the taglist for future chapters.

#elvis #elvis presley #big daddy elvis #thicc elvis #bde #elvis fic #elvis X OC #elvis 1975 #banditqueenwrites #no one walks out on big daddy

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nativeofsumeru · 2 years

Text

Genshin Impact Fanfiction Ideas

A/N: These are just some fan fiction ideas that I had in my head (some are more fleshed out than others), I don't think I'll write them out tho so I put them all here because I like said ideas

There are gender neutral reader and male/female reader stories

(This list is in a random order)

~~~

Pantalone:

-Being his sugar baby or partner, either living with him and him spoiling you or him basically buying you your own house(he would still spoil you)

-maybe the Fatui take a keen interest into his personal affairs and he has to act as if you're really nothing special, you overhear this conversation and this miscommunication leads to fights, you end up storming off and being put in harm's way

Dottore:

-this little shit

-reader running away with a baby they had with Dottore scared of whatever the doctor might do if he got his hands on said baby

-"I don't trust what you would do them." "You trust me with your own body yet you won't trust me with my own creation?"

-running through some snowy woods late at night in Snezhnaya as he calmly with a smirk on his face hunts you down, it's a little game of Hide & Seek, at the end of the day though he's probably the victor

Itto:

-fem!reader is the daughter of an Inazuman noble family, reader has made and caught feelings for an oni friend/acquaintance she knew from childhood and they start a secret romance as her family would never approve

-one day her family comes to here and excitedly proclaims that she is betrothed to Kamisato Ayato and are so happy about the honor and status it's brought her family

-reader is obviously devastated and entrusts with Itto what happened, reader is married to Ayato and although he was kind and didn't force her to do anything she didn't want to, he didn't seem all too invested in this marriage either

-itto and reader continue meeting up in secret and reader low-key feels guilty that she's technically cheating on her husband and even if she didn't want this in the beginning no one deserves to be betrayed like that

-reader makes a decision to tell Ayato about her relationship with Itto, only to find him and Thoma being romantic with each other (this is awkward)

-eventually everything is talked through and there are apologies and laughs about the whole ordeal(no hard feelings and everyone understands the feeling of being scared to be open about their relationships due to public opinion, head commissioner with a lowly housekeeper?! the disgrace!)

-Ayato explains the reason behind such a rushed marriage was because with (insert national/international conflict here that he has to partake in) and Ayaka not being interested in marriage at all(which is perfectly fine in his eyes) it's up to him to make sure there's an heir for the Kamisato clan as his life is most definitely going to be in danger

-idk where it would go from here, but no one in this story is malicious and I'm sure Ayato, reader, Thoma, Ayaka, and Itto team up to make a plan to quell the threat and solve everybody's issues

Childe:

-Childe finds himself getting romantically attached to a prostitute he frequently spends time with, however the last thing he wants is another personal relationship put in harm's way

Itto again:

-reader and Itto being discriminated against cause he's an oni, he feels awful for being the cause of reader having to go through this

-reader explains how they don't mind and they knew what they were getting into, how others bigoted minds aren't his fault etc.

-a big fluff fic

Yae Miko:

-Modern AU

reader has an on and off relationship with Miko and is very flirtatious, they like to see Miko's reactions when she gets jealous

-one day either Miko has enough or reader goes too far in their "make her jealous" attempts and shit hits the fan

Kazuha:

-the friend trio was Tomo, Kazuha, and reader

-reader and Tomo were very close, practically lovers at the time of his death

-Kazuha has to relay the terrible news to them and they breakdown, Kazuha hides out in Inazuma for a bit trying to stay on the down-low, it's during this time that reader and Kazuha start getting closer

-Kazuha starts to get feelings for the heartbroken reader and feels guilty because they were Tomo's partner

-Kazuha eventually has to leave the country and reader is left alone in Inazuma

-Kazuha returns during the Irodori Festival and sees a familiar face in the crowd of civilians hanging out with Yoimiya

Kuki Shinobu:

-inspired by the song "Jenny" by Studio Killers

-fem!reader is best friends with Kuki, reader has started going out with Itto

-Shinobu and reader later runaway together leaving behind the cares of the past knowing they would probably be figuratively crucified by those they were close to

Kaeya and Diluc:

-m!reader and Kaeya share a drink at the bar

-trio is Diluc, Kaeya, and reader

-I do lowkey love Love triangle tropes

-reader gets close to both men separately and slowly uncovers the story of their separation from each other being conflicted as to who's right or wrong while also catching feelings for both

Kaeya:

-m!reader

-Yuri on Ice but with reader and Kaeya basically

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ally-holmes · 2 years

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Nancy’s Wedding | Steve Harrington x Reader (ch.1)

Series Masterlist

Chapter Two.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader.

Word count: 3369

Nancy's Wedding | Chapter One.

The cold air of Chicago was freezing her ideas. Inside the subway, she had felt so much warmth due to the number of people occupying the space that her nose had started running. Just after the County General stop, she went out and the cold March air slapped her in the face. It was March 17th and just that morning it had been snowing and about three o'clock in the afternoon the rain was intense as fuck. She could feel her nose freezing with the cold, the air wetting her eyes. Hugging herself so her coat was closer to her body, Y/N arrived at her workplace and she'd just slipped twice on ice, not falling this time. The last time she knew she was running late to work, she made the awful mistake of walking faster, therefore she fell and broke her wrist. She was sent to the County General Hospital and Doctor Mark Greene had been very nice to her, even nurse Carol Hathaway even made small talk to her about how much she hated the peachy color of their uniforms. Although she had been wonderfully treated there, she'd rather not get injured instead.

Taking off her gloves, she pushed the personnel entry of the nightclub she worked at: The Silver. Small bits of snow fell from her boots as she hit the ground with force before heading to the locker room. Robin Buckley was already there, yawning.

"Jesus, Buckley, it's five in the afternoon. How are you still half asleep?"

"I'm old, Y/N. You're still barely twenty-four, but when you get my age, there are things you can't do anymore."

Rolling her eyes, she opened her locker to put her coat inside. "Don't speak like your life's ending. Aren't you twenty-seven? That's young! Just a week ago you were screaming that this year was your year, ninety-four baby, you said."

"I was mistaken."

As they got out of the ladies' locker room, Steve Harrington was getting out of the other one. Y/N put her foot in front of his making him trip, but not fell. He never fell. He stumbled to his feet, balanced himself with his arms, and cursed before straightening himself up, he ran his hands through his hair staring at the fake innocence in Y/N's eyes.

"One day, I'm going to break my neck because of you, kid."

"Oh, old man, I would pay to see that day. By the way, why is Robin so down?" She stared at him and grimaced, "You look like shit too, dude."

"She had a date…"

"I'm old!"

"...with someone who was twenty-two, apparently…"

"I'm going to die alone!"

"...so when she got home she drank everything we had and I'm the one who had to hold her hair. I have questions."

"Life runs so fast you woke up one day and… puff!! You're old."

"As much as I love your crisis, Roberta, could you, please, behave in the workplace?" One of the owners intervened.

"Sorry, Mr. Spencer."

As the three of them apologized without sentiment in their voices, the man sighed, gesturing for them to start working.

The Silver was a nightclub owned by Michael Spencer and Vicent Dewey since the late seventies. Since then, its looks and its menu had changed and adapted to current fashion. They had booths, square tables, lots of room by the bar counter, and a small kitchen to prepare the typical diner's food to nibble on while drinking. It wasn't so bad and they were very well known in the area.

Y/N started working there when she was seventeen thanks to the goodwill the owners had for needed people. She didn't have the age to work there at the time, but they just hired her as a dishwasher keeping her hidden from the public. They even allowed her to stay with them at the apartment they shared until she had the proper age to officially work there. That's how she knew so much about them and the relationship they had, although she never betrayed any of them. She was still working there, behind the bar with her fresh twenty-one, when Robin and Steve had gotten inside looking for a job. They had just arrived from someplace in Colorado and they were living in their car, both their faces and bodies had been badly beaten up. Steve's protective strike toward Robin was noticeable from the beginning, so much so that Y/N had been certain they were in a romantic relationship. When she had mentioned that to Dewey the man had laughed at her with such affection that she just had to connect the dots. Steve was clearly straight, but Robin wasn't so they probably had been beaten up in Colorado by some assholes who found out.

Three years later, they were part of The Silver family.

Robin tied up her hair and entered the kitchen. Steve and Y/N cleaned up the main area with a couple of waiters. At half past five, the band for the night entered the place making a beeline to the stage at the back; at six the doors were open and the first clients started to come in.

The first hours of the night were always slow. Young people entered the place at the time the band was playing some new pop or punk or rock or whatever it was for the night, occupying the dance floor and drinking beer, mostly. After supper, groups of friends, couples, and regular workers got inside looking for a drink. As midnight hit the clock, the band left but the club kept filling with drunk people who danced poorly to whatever was playing through the speakers. From three to five was usually a slow couple of hours in which the workers would clean as much as they could before closing time at six thirty. Harry, one of their older cooks, was so well-built that he was the one in charge of waking the sleepy drunks and walking them to the exit.

Y/N stretched her back to make it pop as Robin got out of the kitchen sitting on one of the stools by the bar.

"The kitchen's spotless. When are you two going to finish?"

"A few glasses, the counter, and the floor," Steve listed unbuttoning his vest.

"It's still six, people, we still have half an hour for clients to come inside," Spencer pointed out reaching for the tip jar under the counter, next to the cash register.

"At this hour people look for breakfast and coffee, boss, not a drink," Y/N complained.

"Who's turn is to clean the washrooms?" Dewey dried some sweat from his forehead on his way out of the kitchen. He was the main cook. Steve and Y/N pointed at each other. "Don't start kids, I'm too old for kindergarten fights."

Before Steve could argue the door opened and a regular customer came in. He was there last night, as he always was the nights he wasn't on call at the hospital and had a rough date, he would come into the club, sit on a stool and drink himself blind while complaining to Y/N. This time he was wearing a green scrub under his jacket, big black bags under his eyes, and sadness written all over his face.

"We're about to close, Doctor Ross," Spencer offered kindly.

Nodding, Doctor Dough Ross walked towards his stool, he sat, rested his elbows on the counter, hid his head between his hands, and started crying. Y/N took a bottle of scotch and a bottle of cold water, putting both of them in front of the man.

"Pick your poison, Doctor Ross."

Smiling sadly he caressed the scotch bottle but finally took the water. "She tried to kill herself," he whispered. "She seemed so good all day… Happy as always! Then her turn was over, she went home and a few hours later she was coming in with the ambulance. She took everything that was in her cabinet. With scotch, apparently. Why haven't I seen it? Why– Christ!"

Y/N had been Dough Ross' confessor for three years now; she knew everything that was to know about the man, and that's why she knew he was referring to Carol Hathaway, the nurse that once treated her so well in the ER, the woman he loved the most.

"Is Carol going to recover?"

To her question, Ross looked up and gave her one of his smiles, sinking his chin towards his neck. "They don't know. She's in a coma right now. How did you know I was talking about Carol?"

"I told you so many times by now, Doctor Ross. I know everything. I'm that good. You should go home now, she's in a hospital surrounded by doctors who would take good care of her."

"I don't want to go home. I would drink everything I have there if I go."

"Then drink it. If you do so you wouldn't have more alcohol to drink tomorrow."

He took a long sip of his water and nodded. "I feel responsible."

"I know. I noticed. You're not very good at hiding it, by the way. However, how can you be sure you're responsible for her choice? I think that's egocentric of you."

"If I–"

"Doctor Ross, with all due respect, do you think she has more things in her life than the relationship she had with you, and that ended nearly five months ago?"

"You're good. She's good, Spencer, treat her well. I'm going home," before turning around he offered his hand to her, as she gave him her hand he kissed it, shook it, and let go.

With the new tip in hand, Spencer did the maths again and separated the tips into equal piles that he gave to his employees. Steve and Y/N were the ones who work the hardest for tips just behind the bar counter, but they did it from the beginning with the idea that it was money for everyone.

"Mickey and I would clean the washrooms, kids. Get out of here."

"Thank you, Dewey," she gave him a kiss on the cheek on her way to the locker room.

As she was unbuttoning her vest she felt exhaustion overflow her for the first time in the shift. Her uniform, like Steve's, consisted of high-waisted plaid black pants, a white cotton shirt, and a black vest that had a silky part on the back in bright red. As for the shoes, she used boots with a thick sole, almost like platforms that gave her an extra few inches of height. The waiters' uniform was similar, although instead of vests, they wore ties and a slightly squared apron. Inside the kitchen, the workers wore big black pants that looked incredibly comfortable, a white cooks' jacket (usually with its sleeves rolled up), and the shoes they found more comfortable. Vincent Dewey had a little rainbow pin in the lapel of his chef's jacket that nobody saw. Michael Spencer didn't have a uniform, he just dressed as he pleased, smartly and professionally as a nightclub owner.

"That Doctor Ross is creepy," Robin pointed out as she was changing next to Y/N.

"He's harmless."

"That's how we call it now? He came right after his shift, knowing that we were about to close, just to talk about his day with you. He doesn't come when you're not working."

"I call that not having friends outside of work. Look, you can ask Harrington about this, but as bartenders, we play the confessor role for a lot of clients. We listen to them, and we gave them a safe place to cry, curse, or just be vulnerable. Sometimes they want advice, some other times they only want someone who listens to them. Mrs. Orville doesn't order anything unless Steve's the one who serves her, just because she likes the way he treats her. Ross is just the same. He never had any weird ideas with me, if that's what you're implying, Buckley."

"He could've fooled me…"

"He's just flirty. When I broke my wrist last winter, he saw me being treated by one of his friends. Doctor Mark Greene. And girl, let me tell you, Ross flirted with him like there was no tomorrow. I marked my lines the first time he came in here, and he had always respected them."

When they were all covered in coats and warm clothes, the girls got out to find Steve Harrington waiting for them next to the back door. The scarf was loose still, but his wool hat covered his full head and ears.

"How do you keep all your hair inside that thing?"

"You should see him at home. The moment he took it out he looks like a wet dog," Robin laughed.

"Shut it, Robs! So, L/N, want a ride home?"

She wanted to say yes. Since they had started working on The Silver, Y/N developed feelings for Steve although he never seemed interested in her. They argued, they bantered, they joked, but they barely talked. The first time Steve had offered her a ride home she had accepted thinking that they were getting closer, they were finally going to be friends. The ride was lonelier than taking the subway because in Steve's car he and Robin had a dynamic; they had inner jokes, and the conversation flew between them easily as she was relegated to the position of the spectator. It was discouraging noticing how any effort she made to start a conversation with them, or to contribute something else to theirs, there was an awkward silence that followed.

Yeah, she could totally understand the need Ross had to go looking for her to talk his mind out. He didn't have friends outside the workplace and she didn't even have friends there. Her coworkers seemed to like her and with some of them she was able to go grab a coffee or watch a movie, but it was always superficial.

Saying that after that first time she hasn't accepted another ride offer from Steve or Robin would be lying. She had. If the weather was too violent she always accepted. She didn't accept this time.

"Thank you, but I can catch the next train. I live next to the stop anyway," she always said.

"We don't mind," Robin assured her, now trembling due to the cold of the morning.

"It's fine! See you later!"

Y/N walked fast, not looking back, with her hands deep in her coat pockets. Usually, The Silver had two working shifts, but from time to time they had to do a double, just like this time. She loved doing doubles, really, that way she got home while her roommate was away and slept for a few hours, woke up at noon just in time for some chores, and was back to work again. No time to think. No time to feel lonely.

And that's exactly what she did. At five in the afternoon, she was back at The Silver, her laundry all washed, dried, and ironed, her pantry full again and she even bought a new book. Things were kind of good. Her mind had been blank and harmless all day.

She wasn't technically late when she got inside the club, but Steve and Robin were already arguing by the bar counter. Steve's hair looked terrible, a sign that he'd been running his hands through it nonstop in anxiousness.

"Are you having a stroke, Harrington?"

"Bite me."

"Only if you say please, pretty boy."

"He's having a meltdown," Robin staged whispered to her.

"About?"

"His ex-girlfriend's wedding?" She moved the white envelope she had in her hand.

"Linda?"

"No."

"Trish?"

"No."

"Maggie?"

"Think older."

"As in age or–"

"It's Nancy! My ex-girlfriend Nancy is getting married!"

"Who's Nancy?" Y/N was so confused.

"He dated her for less than a year when he was in high school."

Y/N gasped, "Are you still in love with your high school girlfriend, Stevie? Oh, boy, this is gold."

"Shut up! I'm not. I'm not in love with her still, alright? I'm not," he pointed his index finger at Robin before she could contradict him. "The point is that she's getting married in Hawkins. I don't want to go back to Hawkins."

"Who's the groom?" Y/N totally ignored him; Robin enjoyed it so very much.

"Jonathan Byers. They've been together since she and Steve broke up," she explained in a conspirator's way.

"Don't tell me that–"

"Oh, yeah. Steve and Nancy hadn't technically broken up when she started her relationship with Jonathan."

"That's not true! We had broken up. We did. Kind of…" As the insecurity made his voice wobbly, Y/N had to bite her lips to prevent smiling. Damn, he was cute.

"To sum up, he doesn't want to go to the wedding because he doesn't want to see the girl he still loves marrying the boy she cheated on him with. Am I correct?"

"Point number one, I'm not in love with Nancy. Stop it. And point number two, she did not cheat on me with him!" He blushed with frustration.

"Then where's the issue?"

"I can't go back to Hawkins…"

"Too many bastard childer running through its streets?"

"I do not– You know what? I'm not playing anymore. What I don't want is to show up and see how successful and happy everybody is. With their partners and their money and their whatever."

"This is a wedding, not a high school reunion. They'll be more focused on the couple than on you, Harrington."

"That's what I said to him."

"Good! Someone has sense between you two."

"She also said I should bring a plus one."

"It shouldn't be hard for you to find a date."

"Well… You see, he can't just bring someone he doesn't really know."

"You two should go together then," Y/N offered. The other two shared a look she didn't like quite a bit.

"Uh-huh, and I would if I wasn't already invited. I don't really need a plus one because I'm expecting someone would be there and… you know."

"Why are you so afraid of going back, Steve?"

He stared at her, "I'm not afraid. I just… I have something to prove, alright?"

"Are you sure? If they're your friends they must know you pretty well. I'm sure they already know that you've dated almost every single woman in Chicago."

"And a married one," Robin pointed out.

"Uh, yeah. I forgot about Jenny. Yeah, what she said."

"That's what I want to prevent. I want to prove to them that I've changed. That I grew up. I'm twenty-eight and my longest relationship had been Nancy Wheeler!"

"Then I said that he needed someone to pretend to be his girlfriend. Like his long-term girlfriend, you know? As if they've been together since he came into Chicago and they know each other and love each other and work together and–"

"Why do I have the feeling I'm not going to like this?"

"It would be just for a weekend. A long weekend."

"Robin, I don't like this."

"You just have to pretend to be dating Steve. It's not that hard!"

"Why would I do such a thing?"

"I already told her you wouldn't do it."

"You'll be helping out a friend, Y/N. Huh? Um… Steve would clean the washrooms for the next year if you do it!"

"Hey!"

She shouldn't. She really shouldn't. "Fine. We have a deal."

Yeah, fuck it, because pretending to date the man you like and who's not interested in you is always a great rom-com plot.

The wedding would take place the last weekend of April. They had to arrive in Hawkins on Friday morning because they had a rehearsal dinner that evening, a brunch on Saturday morning, and a big party in the Hawkins High School gym, prom style, for the night. The actual wedding would take place Sunday at four in the afternoon. Robin and Steve convinced Y/N that to get their story straight, they should spend more time together.

Was it too soon to regret it?

To be continued…

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aladaylessecondblog · 5 months

Text

why does the sea rush to shore (enver gortash x good tav)

TW: Sad, Astarion and Halsin have died bloody Orin-related deaths and Tav has made a decision to avoid that heartbreak ever again. Tav briefly considers jumping off a bridge.

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It felt fitting for the netherstone to be set in a choker around her neck.

Two attendants fussed about the dress, chattering away about the lace and the pearls, but Tav's mind was a thousand miles away.

She had imagined this day several times before. The dress, the veil, perhaps a few jewels. Her pale elf's look of awe, even, as she walked down the aisle toward him. Halsin, somewhere nearby, looking with his own contentment. A faceless priest, waiting to begin the vows. Above all she had pictured herself happy and smiling.

But today, her wedding day, she was the opposite. Oh, she kept her expression twisted into something similar, thanked the attendants as they helped her with the finishing touches, and fussed about small details like her gloves, but all she could think was that she would rather be anywhere else.

She imagined her waiting groom, pleased that he had managed to snare a hero of the people. That he would be able to maintain power and retain his status as Archduke.

Tav looked into the mirror and forced back her tears.

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

Astarion was staked directly into the ground.

"No...no...please be alive, please be--"

Cold and dead. For real, this time, with his blood spread in a wide puddle beneath him. Not five feet away was Halsin--or rather, his wildshaped bearskin hide, skinned from his bloody carcass which itself lay nearby in a puddle of its own.

Lae'zel stood before them both, and then turned in Tav's direction. A second later she shifted--

"Oh, oh oh, you're just in time to see!" Orin laughed, "Your gith, your spawn, and your bear! Well. Your rug now..."

Tav heard no more. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she looked between Astarion and Halsin, remembering the former's request to join her on her last excursion to Baldur's Gate.

How she had said no, that she would see him when she returned...and that in the evening she'd let him feed from her.

(He'd liked that idea.)

The next second she was roaring--wildshaping into an owlbear and tearing forward to slash and rip at Orin.

The woman would not die, and so much the better.

"Stop!" Shadowheart had called, just before Tav reached back to give what would have been a killing blow. "Don't kill her. And not because I think she deserves to live."

Silence.

"I can think of a much better punishment for her than mere death."

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

There was the sudden sound of a door opening, and in walked Karlach. Wyll, in his Grand Duke regalia, followed closely behind.

Tav looked up at Karlach, who was dressed in a gown of green satin, with a ruby necklace that held the third netherstone at its center.

"You know, soldier, it's not too late to back out," she said in a sad tone, once the attendants had been shooed out. "You deserve better than Gortash. You could have someone good, you know. Someone you could actually love."

"I'm--" Tav took a shaky breathed, and gulped, "I'm not interested in love, Karlach, but...thank you."

The thought of her smarmy vampire and cuddly bear returned. The way she had slept between them on a few nights, warm and utterly content; with arms wrapped around Astarion and Halsin's own around her.

Then the image changed, and she saw their bodies. Astarion, bloodless, limp...eyes staring at nothing. Halsin, skinned, his bloody pelt on the ground.

That image was still agony, a constant pain in her mind she almost wanted kept fresh. Because for it to feel anything less than torturous was--it didn't feel right. It felt like she was betraying them, to think of their deaths and NOT feel that pain along with it.

Wyll offered his arm--as he would be giving her away--and Tav took it as Karlach helped her to get the lengthy bridal train out the door.

"I never want to be in love again."

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

"My condolences."

Tav was still reeling, and she knew better than to show that pain before Gortash of all people, but she couldn't help herself. She had barely slept in the past few days, too afraid of her mind surprising her in the morning.

She didn't want to wake up, sleepily reach for either Astarion or Halsin, and then be stabbed in the heart again.

"Don't give me that," Tav said bitterly, "You probably ordered it yourself. Don't try to piss on my leg and tell me it's raining."

"So vulgar," Gortash mused, "I didn't tell Orin to hit your camp. She does what she wants, that one. A mad dog off the leash..."

"Even more so now."

"You didn't kill her?" Gortash looked surprised, but that look soon faded. "Of course you didn't. You're too tender-hearted to--"

"We're not killing her, but she's going to wish we did," Tav's voice turned icy.

"She's into blood, you know."

"We don't need to shed any." She shut her eyes for a few moments, indulging in the pain-rimmed emptiness that her heart had sunk into. It was a searing void she wanted to share. "Darkness. Silence. An empty box. By the time we're done with her, she won't even remember who she is."

"You ARE full of surprises," he half-laughed and gave her a look she couldn't quite identify. "I didn't call you here to talk about Orin though...at least not in more than a passing way. I called you here to bargain."

"I've already agreed to ally to you. Seems like you're wasting my time and your own."

"Yes, but you have two netherstones. I have one. Things are a bit uneven...and I'd like to keep my head."

"And your power."

"You know me so well." Gortash smirked. "Now, I know you're more than capable of rolling in and mopping up me, the Steel Watch, the Flaming Fists, and any other guards who get in your way...but that would create more problems than it would solve, especially for the innocent. And you're more useful to this city as a hero than as a villain, don't you think?"

"Get to the point."

"The city sees me as its protector. Your reputation is similar, but in a more heroic vein. I propose we remain allies. That you and another person of your choosing join me in continuing to manipulate the elder brain to all our benefits. If control is not regained, and SOON, there will be a lot more problems for you to deal with than just me. Like losing your soul for example."

"If you think I'm unprotected--"

"The ace up your sleeve will only last so long. Whatever plane of existence you flee to, the tadpole WILL heed the call. Sooner, rather than later."

"You're just manipulating me."

"I'm sure this will come as a revelation, my dear Tav," Gortash spoke with the slightest of edges in his voice, "Everyone is manipulating you. Raphael was a devil and you're brighter than you look; you're lucky he was so obvious about it. That mindflayer you think is your friend--don't think I don't know about him. Even Astarion--"

"Don't you DARE say his name to me like--," Tav growled and clenched her fists.

"My point, Tav, is that everyone has plans they want you for, and none but myself will be honest with you about it. Take this lesson from it, if you take nothing else: there will always be someone ready to manipulate you, so you should look to see what you can get from them in turn. I cannot bring your lover back. But I can help you, and your friends."

"We can help ourselves. If you're done--" Tav was on the point of leaving, and got up from the table.

"Can you help Karlach's infernal engine from burning her to ashes?" Gortash's voice rang out as her hand was on the doorknob. When she stopped he spoke in a smug tone. "I thought that might interest you."

"You asshole, you're the one that did that to her in the first place!"

"Language, Tav. You're talking to an Archduke, after all. If you want to talk, you must learn to be more polite. Are you ready to listen?"

Trembling with rage, Tav sat back down.

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

"This was really not necessary," Wyll said to Tav quietly as they walked up the streets. "Did he really have to make you walk so far?"

Flower petals were being scattered from what seemed like every window and by flower girls that walked before them, and every face Tav looked into was smiling. It was a short enough walk, meant to display the Archduke's heroic drow bride to his people.

From the Open Hand Temple to Wyrm's Rock Fortress she was walking, through a crowd of people who felt all the joy for her that she could not feel for herself.

Somewhere in the distance, bells were ringing...

You should smile, darling, you make such a beautiful bride.

Astarion's voice sounded off, as if he were right next to her. She gulped.

"He thought it might be good for the people to have something to celebrate, after all of the...problems...with the Absolute. A public wedding, a grand feast, good times after so much war and strife..."

"War and strife he and his ilk were responsible for," Wyll grumbled.

Tav didn't answer that question, but instead changed the subject. "Yet here they are, still praising his name. The people are eager to forget hardship..."

"As are you, I imagine."

"I don't want to forget anything," Tav said quickly, "I'm not doing this to forget. I'm doing it to benefit the people."

"And how exactly does this benefit them?" Wyll asked, "A miserable bride marrying a man she cares nothing for, who hides his true evil nature. I doubt that could benefit very many people at all. And I thought Ilmater expected his followers to stand up to tyrants? Surely Silvanus would not want you to do this either?"

"Persevere in the face of pain. Heal the sick, the wounded, and the diseased. Comfort the dying, the griefstricken, and the heartsick. Take on the burdens and the pain of others. Champion the causes of the oppressed and unjustly treated, and give shelter and kind counsel to the lonely, the lost, and the mined. Pursue the service of Ilmater, and he will provide," Tav said in the same low tone.

"Leave gross riches and the acquisition of all but medicines to others," Wyll challenged, "I've learned of Ilmater's rules too, you know. This would certainly not please him."

"Take up the tasks no others dare," Tav added in a defeated tone. "I don't want this, but I can do much more good as his wife than not."

Wyll seemed resigned. "You shouldn't have to do this. It's giving up too much--and that's coming from a man who knows."

Tav took a shaky breath.

"I know you mean well, Wyll, but...I've already lost everything. There's nothing this can take from me that's not already gone."

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

"You PIGS!"

Mizora raged and cursed and fought, but there was no escaping her confines.

"My best work yet," came Balthazar's pleased voice, "Really, I should be thanking you for the opportunities you've sent my way."

"And the soul cage will hold her?"

"If it held Aylin, it can hold this one," Balthazar replied, "The only thing now is to test out its limits."

He looked at Karlach, by now smoking and steaming constantly.

The flames burned, hotter and hotter over the next several hours, and Tav followed her to the (empty) next room, where the fire rose and spread--

Tav gave a distressed yelp as Karlach slumped in the stone chair, burning alive. She was down, down and out, dead, gone...

...and then, suddenly, she wasn't.

Right before Tav's eyes, the damage was reversed, fixed right up...and Karlach sat up again.

"Well I'll be damned, the bastard wasn't lying. I..." Karlach seemed almost too incredulous to be happy, "...I'm still alive!"

Tav gave the tall tiefling a tight hug, and with a shaky voice added, "You're going to be alright after all."

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

She could see Gortash now on the bridge, showing the false smile of an eager groom ready to wed his coming bride. When their eyes met it widened further, though she could see the victory in his eyes just as easily.

He was happy that he was getting this out of her, but he was more importantly displaying to all of Baldur's Gate who could see that he was happy with his choice of bride.

That was almost the worst part of it. That he could fake something so easily, and even more so that everyone around him could be fooled by it. Was she really the only one to notice? Was she the only one that would EVER see it? Perhaps not. Perhaps others knew and simply, like her, chose to say nothing for reasons of their own.

She considered simply jumping off the bridge, going to join Astarion and Halsin in the City of Judgment.

But then she considered the talk of the devils there...there were varying and conflicting ideas about what would take place. But several accounts mentioned devils willing to make deals.

That would send her to the Hells...

I am already in Hell, Tav thought, No need to add flames or physical torture to it too.

Halsin's voice popped into her head.

You have far too much good to offer to dash yourself to bits on the rocks to be food for the gulls. No matter what you may feel, death is an end to your ability to help those in need of you, my heart.

Astarion's voice joined alongside.

I'm so proud of you, kitten. You've schemed your way so high...now if only I were beside you, you would find your rule to be utter perfection. Alas...we can't have everything we want.

Her legs felt momentarily weak but she leaned against Wyll to buoy herself.

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

"So, you're back. I presume my plan worked?" Gortash spoke in an easy tone that showed he already knew the answer.

"It did," Tav replied quietly. "You've given your token of good faith. Now tell me the rest of your...plan."

She didn't believe him in the slightest, but saving Karlach would be worth sitting through a session of listening to his nonsense.

"It's fairly simple," Gortash replied with a gesture, "You, and whomever the third stone was given to--"

"Karlach," Tav said quickly.

"Truly? Well, I did say someone of your choosing...and I imagine you picked her simply to have someone who despises me."

"Someone over whom you have no hold. Someone under no obligation to you."

"Which you consider yourself under."

She refused to answer.

She didn't have to.

Gortash went on succinctly, "Your hand in marriage."

Tav jerked back, and nearly fell out of her chair. She scrambled back up and practically shrieked, "Absolutely NOT! No. No. NO. A thousand times--"

"At least you didn't laugh."

"And what possible reason--what--no--first of all, WHY?"

"Because it would solve a lot of my problems," Gortash poured out two glasses of wine. "You would not believe the number of ladies I have at court, angling for my hand. Batting their eyelashes at me, hoping and praying to be the one to catch my eye."

"I should think that would make you HAPPY, that so many women want you. They would volunteer for--for what you're asking me."

"I have no patience for their pettiness, and what they have to offer, I could already get on my own. I want an end to the requests by fathers for me to consider their daughters as brides. An end to the scheming mothers who think mere compromises could sway me."

"The price you pay for relevance."

"I am a man made to rule. As much as you might think otherwise I am not fond of romance. You would have far greater freedom than you would as any other man's bride, to be quite honest. In fact, I would expect it."

"What?"

Not that she was entertaining the idea. Not for a second.

"You're a hero, the talk of the town. You--and your friends, of course, but primarily you, in their eyes--stopped the evil Ketheric Thorm and his shadow curse. Saved that druid grove, laid waste to a large chunk of the army of the Absolute..."

He smirked.

"...and have at great risk to your personal reputation, done everything possible to help those refugees no one here wants. You have been a better exemplar of the God on the Rack's ideals than those hypocritical clerics at the temple of the Open Hand. Though I suppose if someone killed one of my men, I might be equally as--"

"Get to the point."

"You would be good for my reputation," he replied, "Your love for the plant and animal life, the charity your tender heart leads you to. All you lack is a title and steady coin to do that oh-so-generous work. And those I can give you."

Tav opened her mouth to reply, but found she had nothing to say.

"I have no patience for such things in any case. The masses would like someone closer to their level...one who has known difficulty and struggle. Pain and strife."

Again, nothing.

"Really, the terms are rather generous. A few parties on my arm, societal obligations..."

Marital duties, Tav thought sourly. She could see he was thinking it. But that desire was secondary to his desire for power. He seemed the type to seek it only for stress relief, not the carnal eagerness Astarion had once shown, or the wild desire that Halsin had.

At least there was that mercy.

If she accepted this offer, he would be like neither of her beloveds.

If...

"...and in return, the ability to continue doing the good you're always so eager to do."

"Which will naturally make you look like a wonderful leader."

"The great Lord Gortash, defender of the city, and you...the lady of charity and healing. After all that has happened, the city is ripe for someone like you. How much better if we work together. The people would simply love the story - their mighty lord smitten with a defender of the people."

"A--a loveless marriage, though, in the end." Tav stumbled on her words and went quiet.

"Indeed. I don't love you, and you don't love me, but I'm certain you're capable of showing that you feel the opposite...and frankly, it's better there be no love between us. Would you really want to repeat that sorry scene you described to me, should an assassin succeed against me?"

Do you want to feel that pain again? Tav thought. A stab of grief pierced her heart. The image of Astarion and Halsin, bloody on the ground. No. No. Never again. I never want to feel that way, EVER again.

After a long pause to discuss the terms of the rest of this little deal as they pertained to Karlach and the agreement that would be made between the three of them, he went back to the topic.

"I do require an answer rather soon, you know."

Images of herself with Astarion, with Halsin, with both of them, passed through her mind in a rush. Safe and close, cuddling, loving...

"Fine."

"Give a proper answer, if you please."

Say the words, his expression told her. I want to hear them.

"I will accept your proposal," Tav replied, "And--I will marry you."

The smirk that spread across Gortash's face then was absolutely heinous.

He produced a short length of copper wire, and gestured.

"Give me the nether stone."

When she blanched, he set his other hand on the table; his own netherstone was now within easy reach.

"I thought I might give you a gift."

Keeping both hands on the table, ready to move forward and stop him if he tried anything, Tav waited.

Gortash wrapped her netherstone in the copper wire, and then reached into his pocket for what looked like a strange strip of black velvet with a clasp. With the remaining wire he bound the stone up to the velvet.

"I am not a jeweler," he said, standing once he was done, and leading her (despite her reluctance) to a mirror in the corner of the room. On arrival he brought the necklace up, and fastened the clasp behind her neck, then let his hands rest on her shoulders. "But I think it suits you."

Inwardly, Tav quailed.

Outwardly, she said quietly, "It does, doesn't it."

"I knew you'd see things my way."

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

Tav's hands were joined with Gortash's, and the priest spoke the words to begin her binding to this despicable man.

She repeated her part of the vows stiffly, but managed to keep her false smile as she spoke them.

I hate him. I hate him so much.

But when the ceremony concluded, when her lips touched his, when the faint but rich taste of the wine he'd no doubt drunk crossed her tongue, it also occurred to her that she was lucky.

Because to marry a man she hated meant she would never mourn him as she had Astarion and Halsin.

It was a pain she need never feel again.

"People of Baldur's Gate!" she heard her new husband call out, "May I present to you, Duchess Gortash!"

The cheer that went up did nothing to fill Tav's hollow heart.

#tav is big sad #gortash is a manipulative bastard #drow tav #tav x gortash #good tav x gortash #karlach lives #enver gortash #gortash bg3 #gortash x tav #lord gortash #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin x tav #astarion x tav #astarion x tav x halsin #wedding #bride #bg3 wyll #karlach bg3

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whyreyousoobsessedwithme · 5 months

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Lookism 479, 480 and 481 edited

Struggled to type this because I'm sore from my physio therapist appointment

479

- OK, so we know Jerry also knew Jinyoung and that his father was murderd. We also know there's this mysterious reporter Kim who might have some clues.

- What is the Era of peace?

- Jerry's father had an abnormal body.

- Why does no one know anything about Daniel's connection with Jinyoung? I'm so done. I don’t even care about that anymore.

- Now that lineman's training, I would like to see him go against some of the worker guys that beat him.

- Dj being shady ass hell as usual 🙄. I don't think Daniel should trust him, he's being too trusting. James knows so much but refuses to tell him anything. He's using Daniel to get to jinyoung so he can learn the secret behind the 2 bodies. I know deep down Daniel doesn't trust him that much, but he needs to stop giving James even the tiniest bit of info.

- I feel like Lightning Choi is in danger now that James knows about him.

- oh my God, he really is living by the junkyard💀

- these guys just keep getting stronger, why is his back so huge, it looks like an extra layer of skin😮‍💨

- tf do they mean by " the time has come for us to try to kill each other". As if they weren't giving each other permanent damage. Honestly, gun and Goo's relationship reminds me of 2 siblings, goo being the younger one who is not used to being independent until one day he decides to leave the nest. This whole meeting felt like a family low-key falling apart, goo leaving the family but deciding to visit his brother one last time before leaving. Which makes me think about the whole theory of someone dying and it showing guns' true personality. I originally thought that it was hinting towards Olly and how gun surprisingly has respect for the dead. But now I think it's goo who's going to die. These panels are honestly so well done. The bittersweet smiles and how human they look in here. You can tell they don't want to kill each other.

480

- I feel gun will eventually betray Charles because he took it too far or hold back while fighting goo. That or there'll be a change of plans like in the workers' fight with dg.

- I think gun was genuinely happy to find someone on his level. Maybe he was used to people always agreeing with everything he did or said, so befriending someone like goo was a breath of fresh air.

- Watching this interaction also reminds me of Crystal. It honestly looked like she had a good relationship with James,Gun, and Goo. Calling them hyung and conversing normally. She seemed like the little sister of the family, and Charles is like the power-hungry dad tearing it apart. I almost felt bad watching the junkyard breakup, but then I remembered they're both awful people. The one I truly feel bad for is Crystal. She didn't ask for this, she didn't join Charles because she had a choice.

- The whole thing with Eli deciding Hudson will stay, and the whole " ... so I'll let you borrow one room" thing is pissing me off. Why is he the one making all the decisions, Sally did a lot for Hostle, but somehow, she's just being pushed aside. Ptj wtf. Throughout the entire Hostle arc, it was just Eli getting the credit for half the shit Sally did it was literally her idea to give the runways a home. And the point system shit was not only an Ok idea, but it wasn't even his original it was just something he saw while living on the streets. The fact it's all "Eli this" and " Eli that" is so fucking annoying. Ptj literally showed Sally putting in the work and pushed all the credit toward Eli. Like if you want it to be about him actually make it about him

- Gyeol doesn't deserve his brother.

- Every one of these guys have insane methods, like how do you expect him to talk when you shove his glasses down his throat.

- THE UGLY FACE EXPRESSIONS ARE HERE WHICH MEANS SHIT WILL FINALLY GO DOWN.

- I used to think Charles's weakness was his daughter but now I don't think he gives a fuck about her.

- How did dg record the evidence though?

481

- hey I have that flash drive too

- I think dg was testing the waters with the whole flash drive situation to see Eugene's reaction to him knowing jinyoung.

- Mandeok is like Regina George, his hair is full of secrets literally

- Now they're calling it anxiety attacks instead🫥, ptj please research mental health

- is it me or James feels guilty for killing Gapryong and jinyoung going insane? This makes me think that after that incident James started hating Charles.

- that's some tacky ass writing he has there on his car

- that's the worst marketing strategy I've ever seen

- how did jibeom get so big😃

- Someone said the new guy looks like the lovechild of dg and Eli and now I can't unsee it

- To think Vin killed a king

- I was right about the cult theory

- This is why education is important, people think anything is evil, acting like they're not the devil themselves.

#lookism #lookism spoiler #lookism thoughts #lookism spoilers #lookism theories #lookism theory

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eliaskahtri · 7 months

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Oh God Not You Again || Elias & Gael

TIMING: Late September

LOCATION: Downtown Wicked’s Rest

PARTIES: Elias (@eliaskahtri) & Gael (@lithium-argon-wo-l-f)

SUMMARY: Elias arrives back in town, only to run into the one face he dreaded the most.

CONTENT WARNINGS: None

It had been a few months, but Elias finally felt like he had his head back on his shoulders. Sure, there was nothing like a brief respite and throwing oneself head-first back into work to do the trick. He had gone home, sought a therapist, and returned to work. After the incident with, well… faeries. He had been reassured that everything was in his head, and the medication would help him feel right as rain again. Still, the dread bubbled in his chest as he drove into town, the sunny day throwing off what ELias felt should have been a dreary, awful day.

Finally, they had made it to Wicked’s Rest. After an agonizingly long car ride from Santa Barbara, California, to Wicked’s Rest, Maine, Elias got out of his car outside of what was now his apartment. Smack in the middle of the heart of downtown, thanks to his assistant, Naya. Naya exited her car behind him, her excitement visible on her face. “I haven’t been home in so long!” She exclaimed as she clapped her hands together, then threw her arms around him and into a hug.

Elias went rigid at the contact. He didn’t do hugs, not anymore. Ever since he first told Naya that he had accepted the position in Wicked’s Rest, he felt nothing but dread. There were people he had left behind, people he’d rather not see. Awkwardly returning the hug briefly, Elias pulled away and looked above the shop to see where his apartment was. “Fully furnished, so you don’t have to worry about moving in and buying anything,” Naya spoke as she handed over his key. “And I’m across the hall, so if you ever need anything, you know where to find me.” She shot him a smile before taking a step back toward her car. “And if you don’t mind, I will say hi to my family.” She grinned, unable to contain her excitement, as she let out a giddy scream before hopping back into her car.

As Naya drove off, Elias felt all of the remaining energy he had to leave his body. He didn’t want to be here. But he also couldn’t tell his assistant no to the possibility of being able to move home and be with her family. A people pleaser until the end, that’s what he was. Staring down at the key in his hand, he screwed up his face before turning to look down the street. He wasn’t ready to go inside yet.

Still, if he waited around in the heart of downtown, he was bound to run into someone he didn’t want to see– and that’s when he saw him. Gael walked right toward him. Elias glanced around and suddenly found that he was desperate to see how quickly he could open the door to the stairs that would bring him to his apartment. Taking advantage of not being recognized, he desperately wiggled the handle to the stairwell.

Then, he heard that familiar voice. Shit. How was he going to explain himself? Hey man! I know we had this brief thing or whatever, but then I had a complete mental breakdown that left me feeling like I was one move away from a permanent hotel California situation, so I fled in the middle of the night. Never mind, I just left a note that said, “I’m not safe here anymore,” and left. Haha! Funny, right? Elias glared at the door handle that had betrayed him and slowly turned himself around, every movement of his feet like it physically pained him to do so. “Hello.” He said in a clipped, awkward tone. “Funny seeing you here.” He pointed at the door. “Door sticks,” he said flatly, the normally chipper man completely devoid of emotion.

There was a lot on the professor’s mind nowadays, between the last set of full moons, his subsequent conversations with select people, the nagging ideas in his brain that woke him up more frequently than usual and now, most recently and suddenly, a familiar scent that filled his distracted senses as he left the apartment of one of his acquaintances he had gotten to know recently. Gael, briefly standing in the hall like a weirdo, turned his head slowly as he inhaled slowly, deeply. That smelled like…

No, it wasn’t. It couldn’t have been. Elias was on the other side of the country again or… so Gael presumed. He’d been absently keeping up with the engineer’s endeavors after that cryptic letter left on his kitchen counter months ago, about how he had been making groundbreaking steps in the bioengineering and prosthetics world. Naturally, he was happy for the man but at the same time, he kept thinking about that letter. It was one sentence, only five words, but Gael was having trouble not being able to understand its meaning. But despite feeling like he understood the meaning, Elias was gone and Gael had accepted that. It didn’t make him feel less guilty, though, thinking about how one day he moved in and they– Gael had made mistakes, he knew that. He made mistakes and Elias was suddenly gone and the professor felt as though that might’ve been for the best, especially considering the things he himself had learned since then. About… He wondered how much of it really mattered as Gael’s tired, dark eyes found the tall man struggling to… open a door. Seemed about right. Wordlessly at first, Gael approached the familiar man where he didn’t stare up at him with a furrowed brow for very long before he glanced at the door Elias seemed to be having trouble with. “Yeah, that one in particular is really bad about it.” He motioned to it, not entirely untruthful but it wasn’t that difficult. “Need… any help?”

—

Everything in Elias screamed to run away, to do anything to escape the uncomfortable experience that was standing near Gael. He and Regan were the two people he was hoping to avoid, but something told him that that wouldn’t happen in this town. He shook his head at the shorter man’s offer to help, deciding to slam his shoulder into the door, which did absolutely nothing. And great, now his shoulder screamed in pain. He made a face as he let a hiss escape through his lips. “That… was supposed to work.” He muttered, finally giving up on the stuck door to look at Gael. He looked tired, but that much wasn’t all that new.

“Uh.” He said rather eloquently, crossing his arms over his chest as he schooled his anxiety to appear calm and collected. “Surprise? I… moved back.” He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the stuck door. “Apartment’s upstairs. Should have kept my assistant around to open it.” He nodded his head slowly, gaze drifting anywhere but at Gael. It helped that he was short and Elias could just look straight ahead.

The energy between the two was uncomfortable. There was no denying it. Elias turned to the door that had betrayed him, now forcing him to conversate with the man he once considered a very close friend. And, well… maybe not anymore. He had kind of burned many bridges on his way out of town. “I, well.” He scratched at the back of his head, his nervous tick reappearing. “I was offered a research position at the local hospital.” He finally explained, kicking at a pebble near his foot. “My assistant is from here, and I would have felt bad telling her no, so… here I am.” He raised his hands in the air as he shrugged, still avoiding looking Gael in the eyes.

All those months later and he was still as easy to read as before. Then again, since he was just as easy to read as before - and especially since Gael had since grown accustomed to the little nuances in a voice and especially hearing the heartbeat of whoever he was talking to, the professor figured that this was going to be an awkward reunion, to say the least. He wasn’t a stranger to people drifting away over the years; his old college friends, the ones he grew up with, work buddies and lab partners, it was simply impossible to keep up with every single one of them, not to mention some of them likely decided to either start entirely over with a new set of friends, but some of them might not’ve done that but just opted to cut out the negative influences in their life. Gael knew that he had been that way to a few people, as aspects of his past could never quite leave him weren’t healthy to anyone. He had worked to move past those and he certainly didn’t fault anyone for thinking that he could serve as a negative influence. He tended to treat old faces the same, though, for better or for worse; it was awkward, but Gael wasn’t mean, or at least he certainly tried not to be. He didn’t fault Elias for leaving for whatever reason, just like he didn’t fault him for coming back once he had an opportunity to do so. “Well, that’s good!” He said with a small smile. “I mean, good that you got a good position.” He paused, easily noticing that Elias was purposefully avoiding eye contact with him so he motioned to the door again. “You should try shouldering into it again, that really worked the first time.” He joked lightly, trying to gauge a reaction before ultimately deciding that Elias probably wanted nothing to do with him anymore and to just… exist in the same town. Gael could do that.

—

Elias wanted to melt into the cracks of the sidewalk and slide away. He wanted to be anywhere else, but there he was, running into the one person he had been hoping to avoid. Despite himself, he still found him letting out a bark of laughter as Gael insisted he fling himself into the door again. He turned to look at Gael, sizing him up playfully. “Well, if you’re so keen on making fun of me, why don’t you try?” He stepped to the side of the door, gesturing towards the door in a dramatic flourish. As much as he wanted to be uncomfortable, Gael just found a way of making him feel at ease. Still, there was a hint of discomfort that Elias was actively trying to combat.

“I started seeing things after the murder happened.” Elias began to explain, eyes dropping to his feet. “And when I started seeing these things, I thought faeries were real.” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “And that’s when I decided to seek help from a professional.” He gave a flat smile. Lips pressed together in a thin line. “So now I’m… better. Better enough to be here without screaming, anyway.” Elias paused, face turning thoughtful. “Well, maybe a good scream now and again,” he decided.

“I was in such a bad state that I thought I was in danger and that people would come after me.” He rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a terse sigh. He remembered the state he was in, the fear that coursed through his body as he shakily wrote that note to Gael before running out the door that night. He felt bad about it but knew he would do it again if things went down the same course. “I’m sorry for running away instead of saying something.” He finally said, able to look up and meet Gael’s eyes. The smile that had graced Gael’s angled face when Elias had momentarily shifted back into that sense of familiarity between the two of them softened, then slightly faltered as the taller man started to explain what had happened and why he left so abruptly in further detail. And as he spoke, about how he started experiencing hallucinations and how fairies were real, Gael understood where the man was coming from. He’d been there, once, himself. Some days, he argued he was still there, on the edge, just waiting for someone to just… push him off of it entirely.

Ever since he moved, around the start of the summer, things had escalated far quicker than they should’ve, in multiple ways. He met so many people, became privy to so much knowledge about things that he had spent 40 years of his life believing were firmly fictional. He’d seen things that he couldn’t even dream about, had learned with Regan that his own hearing and smell, the things he himself thought were auditory and phantosmia hallucinations, weren’t just him making things up and hearing what he thought wasn’t there. Gael never struggled to find an identity for himself in the feeling of being special or unique like that.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Gael replied with a small shrug of one of his shoulders. “I’m… I know I didn’t help as much as I should’ve and I’m… sorry for how I acted before.” The confidence in his tone faltered and his body language reflected some of the guilt that he’d long since compartmentalized and processed appropriately though it, like, many things, tended to linger when their memory came up. “I don’t blame you for what you did; this town is… weird.” That was putting it lightly.

“And I don’t mean to, like, know that you’re back and insert myself into your life.” The professor continued, now reaching for the door and resting a calloused hand on the handle. “I get that things are… well, y’know, different now but I just wanted to drop by, say ‘hi’ and that…” Gael cleared his throat and he effortlessly pulled the door open for the taller man. He knew it had to be pulled the whole time. “If you ever need or want any help, I’m still your guy.”

#Oh God Not You Again #threads;#t;lithium argon wo l f #lithium argon wo l f

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spacegoathours · 1 year

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gonna ramble about calnr below the cut

bc I’m BORED and this is MY blog I do what I WANT

TW for self-harm, I think. I am not nice to my girl

edit: i sat on this for days and it’s long and stupid but i’m sick of seeing it in my drafts. every day i strive to be worse than the last ✌🏼✨

since I am the worst at writing, and really not creative overall, I struggle with stepping outside of the few things I’ve drawn which range from generic cutesy things to angsty AF

at some point I’m gonna have to suck it up and make sense of their relationship, why it’s even necessary for both of them, and what the endgame is. is this just for funsies and doesn’t matter? yes. is my brain not going to leave me alone until I make sense of everything? also yes.

like. ok. we can assume that Lard Nar has dealt with a lot of loss. he lost his home first and foremost, but it can also be assumed that he’s lost a lot of loved ones, family and friends and so on, either by imprisonment or death by Irken hand. this makes him not only opposed to commitment for fear of losing someone but especially opposed to commitment to an Irken.

at the same time we like to think that Lard Nar sees past how Irkens tend to be on the surface and understands that they’re just victims of Irken society, this awful propaganda that turns what could be free-thinking individuals into single-minded drones privy to violence and hatred of other alien races.

he knows deep down that Callie is good because she saved him during the Vort disaster. that’s highly unusual Irken behavior and the act sticks with him years down the line, even after watching as his planet got conquered and his family imprisoned. so the two views go back and forth in his mind, i guess.

obviously trusting Callie in the end is what happens since they do, eventually, have some sort of complicated relationship. once he opens up to her, that fear of losing her just like he lost everyone else becomes super exasperated, now that he’s let Callie be someone important to him.

this really sucks for him because Callie is fiercely independent and leaves the Resisty ship often. each time is either quietly leaving without anyone knowing or getting very angry and leaving, never with the intent to come back. she just wants to be left alone at first.

(tw implied self-harm below)

Callie gets into a lot of trouble while away from the Resisty. the story I keep trying to tell with her is dark; she hates herself, a lot, has no sense of self-preservation and comes back fucked up every time. most of the time she’s found by the Resisty and they have to bring her back to health again.

her background of like… forced to train hard as hell to become a top elite next to miyuki and never wanting that future, having to escape her home planet because she would have been killed otherwise, actually being killed painfully after finally finding what felt like home, waking up in a body that isn’t hers and another Irken’s mind battling with her own, and by this point assuming that the Resisty just wants to use her because she could potentially be a huge threat to the Empire…

this girl’s mental state is bad by the end of it all.

and actually, most of the Resisty hates her at first, which doesn’t help. they just got done trusting an Irken who betrayed them and nearly got them all killed (Nyx). but their captain feels that he owes Callie, she saved his life after all so many years ago, so he saves hers in the only opportunity that arises to make it possible. so the rest kinda have to deal.

after some time goes by, Lard Nar realizes that he’s gone from “ok I have returned the favor my work here is done” to “fuck I really care about you please stop hurting yourself like this”. and he does see Callie as a potential asset to their cause at first, but doesn’t press the subject. after he realizes oh fuck I have feelings for this Irken he drops the idea from his mind entirely; he just wants her to be okay. Callie, seeing no future for herself, has no interest in joining the Resisty or being in any sort of relationship.

Eventually she comes around after slowly realizing that the Resisty has 1.) learned to trust her after Nyx’s personality is fully gone and they spend more time getting to know her true self and her history and 2.) saved her time and time again without expecting anything in return, proving that they actually do care. her mental state starts to improve slowly but surely.

Callie officially joins the Resisty and goes on missions with them. somewhere in this part of the story is where she realizes how much she cares about Lard Nar in return. but emotions are very confusing for Irkens, especially those surrounding romantic feelings, so Callie doesn’t know what to do half the time. she’ll go to Laksa like “hey Nar brought me flowers from a nearby planet and asked if I needed anything while I’m stuck in the med bay and it made me feel weird what does this mean” and Laksa will be like ROLLS EYES.

this girl stubborn AF and when she understands what she’s feeling for Lard Nar is love, she’s in denial about it. her??? with a Vortian???? that’s wrong!!! it’s not, but the things you’re taught on Irk take some time to unlearn. anything between them is kept in private and even though she thinks she has their relationship under wraps, the rest of the Resisty is like “oh wow sweet gossip” and they are very aware lol.

there is a mission at some point where some Irken enforcers capture Lard Nar and keep him imprisoned for a while, and Callie rips through the prison’s guards like they are nothing to save him, and at this point she doesn’t care what people think anymore. when she saved him and some other scientists the first time on Vort she didn’t think much of it, it was just the right thing to do and she took hold of the opportunity. this time she’d stop at nothing to make sure he’s safe, even if that means murdering a ton of Irken guards, going very much against her own ideals.

the two become highly protective of each other and intermittently co-dependent because of their different traumas surrounding loss. I don’t think this makes for the healthiest relationship - sometimes one or the other will realize they’re being clingy and pull back for fear of getting hurt. it probably takes them a very long time to get to a point where the fear of losing the other becomes less important than the desire to be together.

also like…this takes a while. you can’t erase the past, and the reality is that Irkens and Vortians have a very strained relationship with each other. Lard Nar occasionally gets a sinking feeling in his gut when he’s around Callie, remembering the history surrounding the broken alliance. This is an Irken who can choose to betray his trust at any moment, and it’s not like it hasn’t happened to him personally. Callie, being on the “winning” side between the two, feels overwhelming guilt and often feels like she doesn’t deserve to be with Lard Nar because of what the Irkens - her people - have done to him.

I think I want them to have a happy ending where they can overcome their pasts, but ugh. I sure do view the IZ universe and timeline as very dark and awful and sure do love putting characters thru the horrors.

like I said before I’m bad at writing and there are a lot of elements here I want to include, which is why this ended up so lengthy, but some probably contradict others!! it’s just a string of thoughts though, so take it all with a grain of salt I guess. eventually I’ll simplify things which would make it easier to come up with ideas for writing/drawing. or just do whatever. whenever. this is literally just textbook “I want to shove my OC into every aspect of canon because I need to live” fuck it we ball

umm anyway how’d this get so fucking long. if you made it this far why did you do that. goodnight

#mina talks #a lot #fair warningggg

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iviarellereads · 10 months

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Nona the Ninth, Chapter 23

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one!)

(Sixth House icon) In which Crown has a point: aesthetics are important, dangit!

Nona takes a few steps toward the dais, and Ianthe comes down the rest of the way, to examine her. Ianthe declares there's no way this should be working, and asks Crown if Harrow's been blind the whole time. Crown says she left out some details, but she doesn't see what the big deal is. Ianthe says she's having feelings in two separate nervous systems and it's not making her feel less intensely.(1)

Ianthe asks Harrow (Nona) if she has anything to say for herself. Nona replies simply "No". Ianthe remarks that Cam's glasses don't belong to her, and Cam says, "Noted". Ianthe says it's just rather curious, and taunts Cam and Harrow both, then asks if Harrow has a comeback. Nona says "No" again and Ianthe says she rather expected for Harrow to march in here demanding the return of her cavalier's body. Nona remains silent.

Ianthe gets impatient and asks Cam if she knows why they're there. Cam says she doesn't play guessing games. Ianthe taunts her again.

Crown said quickly, “Camilla, don’t bother. Everything’s going to be fine,” and Ianthe said pettishly, “Honey, stop telling people things are going to be fine. Things are, I promise you, not going to be fine. Things are, frankly, going to be antonyms of fine.”

Cam suggests Ianthe wants the Sixth House back. Ianthe says, not herself, but God does, and badly. At first when the facility went missing(2) he thought it was his temper and the resulting solar flare(3) that had destroyed it. They were very surprised to find that it was proper missing, and Ianthe asks how they moved it. Cam admits they used 532 obelisks together. They discuss the relative details until Cam withholds an answer, and Ianthe says she'll just ask one of the Oversight Body for it.

Nona's eyes start to itch from the fake cataracts.

Crown says Ianthe can't get away with killing off the Sixth House's governance. Ianthe remains confident, but Crown says the way to deal with a morale failure is to leave them in place, even under arrest. Ianthe says the Houses will just be happy to get any of the Sixth back, Crown protests that the Sixth will never be loyal again, and Ianthe says she'll teach God to apply the boot(4) after being so hands-off for so long.

Ianthe breaks off her fanatic rant to observe that Hect is smiling.

Nona, astonished, turned to Camilla without thinking; she tilted her head back immediately, afraid of being caught out, but by then she had seen Camilla’s face. Camilla was smiling: an easy, loose little smile, as though she were listening to a story. She said, “Yes.”

Ianthe demands she explain. Cam asks if God knows why the Sixth left. Ianthe assumed some moral reason. Cam says the Sixth "doesn't move for moral philosophy." Ianthe asks, what then? Cam says Cassiopeia left them instructions many years ago. Their founding Lyctor told them to.

Ianthe yells at Duty (Pyrrha), demanding an explanation. Pyrrha confirms she died, but can say no more.

“Then how?” But Camilla and Pyrrha didn’t answer. The Prince passed one hand over her dead blue-and-brown-spattered eyes and said, “Oh my God. This is the last thing we need. If he hears that yet another one of his duplicitous sluts(5) betrayed him, he’s never going to come back from it. He’s so fragile right now. Not even if we scourge Antioch and fly the First flag from the tallest tower.”

Pyrrha says Cassy liked long games. Ianthe gets very frustrated, and Crown throws herself at Ianthe's feet, wrapping her arms around Babs's legs.

When Crown spoke her voice was low and tender, the lowest and tenderest voice Nona had ever heard: “Baby, it sounds awful.”

Crown suggests Ianthe abandon her post and come with her. Nona would have done it immediately, but Ianthe is harder to move, and calls Crown ridiculous. Crown says they've been apart so long, screw the system, they can go off on their own, be together, start over.(6) It's not until Crown says she knows people who need them that her grasp on Ianthe really slips, and Ianthe laughs coldly.

“‘People.’ Oh, darling, you’re always everyone else’s girl. Don’t worry … I fully intend for us to be us, together, now … but I have the framework for it and you, my poor dummy, do not.(7) Don’t worry about anything. Seriously, you need to relax. And to moisturise. And to cut your hair,” the Prince added critically, moving to stand. “I’m hagged as hell … believe me, you’ll know that when you see me … but you need some serious triage before I can do anything with you. I doubt you even have a skincare routine right now.”

She removes herself from Crown's embrace, leaving Crown looking hurt. Ianthe asks Pyrrha where the other live ones are. They discuss troop positions inside the building, and Crown starts laughing at Ianthe for "talking military."

Ianthe comes to stand in front of Nona again, and comments that Harrow is never this quiet. She outlines what happened when Harrow was last seen, ponders aloud how Harrow can stand beneath Varun's presence, and suggests she might be addressing someone else.

The fist tightened. No would not do; Yes was worse; Cam had told her to pretend to be the Captain. Nona decided to pretend to be the Captain, and opened her mouth, and screamed like the Captain had screamed. She had never been good at coming up with conversations. Nona simply made her mouth go as the Captain’s had gone—she could remember the movement, it was easy—and she screamed, “Help! Help! Help!” for want of anything better to say. The scream moved through her chest and up her throat and out of her nose. When she let it out, it did not at all sound like when she had heard the Captain do it. The scream somehow seemed to take all the lining of her throat with it.(8) It was like the scream was made of her insides—her insides dissolved and resolved themselves by coming out her lips as a vocal bomb. The electric light sizzled in its housing. The room went dark. Prince Ianthe Naberius dropped her and staggered back, and Nona completed her Captain impression by pitching forward, onto the carpet, facedown, practically senseless, aware of nothing but the scream—a noise that seemed to keep coming out of her nose and ears and mouth. She went away from herself briefly.

When she regains consciousness, she worries she'd vomited or something, but has only coughed up some water.(9) Her surroundings, however, are chaos. Ianthe has drawn a rapier, which is bloodied at the tip. Pyrrha is on her hands and knees, with a gun nearby, knocked from her hands. Crown is flanked but not held by two dead soldiers. Cam is held and pinned immobile by four of the dead guards, though her knives are still in her hands. Some of the dead are on the floor, unmoving.

Honesty and Hot Sauce and the others had been right. She didn’t like this zombie stuff at all.

Nona worries she's ruined the plan. Ianthe stands and points at her, and some of the dead soldiers seize her.

“You,” said the Prince, “are coming home to the Emperor tied and gagged, and not as a sex thing. You”—this was to Pyrrha—“prep to leave. This is over. I’m not wasting any more time here. Ready the shuttle to get us out in an hour. We have too much to lose. Duty, are you alive?” Pyrrha said, with difficulty— “Yes.” And: “Everyone with a necromantic body is down.”(10) Pyrrha said, “The Sixth House—” “Oh, fuck the Sixth House! Daddy(11) can have you three safe and sound … well, soundish … and like it. I’m extracting my sister before anything else happens.”

She tells Crown she'll get her wish, and Ianthe will even take the rap about the whole becoming an Edenite thing. Then she addresses Cam, who Nona notices has a long, freely-bleeding gash down her chest. Cam asks if she ever intended to emancipate the city. Ianthe says, no, she just wanted the Sixth back "as a goodwill gift for God." She's not staying anywhere there's a Resurrection Beast. But the Sixth isn't a priority, so Cam isn't needed.

At this, Nona notices Pyrrha has stood back up, and Crown has taken a step toward Ianthe.(12)

Ianthe offers to kill Cam here, or remove her limbs and kill her after interrogation. She adds that Cam saved Ianthe's other arm and her legs, but she wasn't good enough to save the first arm, so Ianthe's still holding a bit of a grudge. Cam offers an apology, but Ianthe cheerfully does not accept it, and offers again, death now or deferred?

Crown says she'll never forgive Ianthe if she kills Cam. Ianthe says they're traitors, and she has to pick her battles. She'll save Crown, even save Judith, but she has no reason to save Cam. She offers, one last time.

“You challenged the Sixth for its keys,” she said eventually. “You named the time. You backed down, but I had right of reply. We didn’t consent. Or reject. I accept the challenge of the Third.” Prince Ianthe Naberius looked at her. The expression was—strange.(13) “That was a lifetime ago,” she said. “Over a year.” “The challenge is valid.”

Ianthe asks what the stakes would be now, then. Cam offers, if she loses, she dies now. If she wins, she walks away. She won't even ask to take Harrow. Ianthe says Hect can't kill or disable her in Babs's body, and she's taken away the weaknesses that once existed between them.

Cam says she wants to die on her feet. Ah, at this, Ianthe refuses. The setup is too suspicious, Cam can't be doing it without an ulterior motive. She has the dead soldiers force Cam to kneel, but movement catches Ianthe's eye, and her head turns to see that Pyrrha has gotten her gun back, and tossed it to Corona, who points it at her own throat and demands that Ianthe free Cam. Ianthe says to stop this, she wouldn't want Corona to get hurt when Ianthe's soldiers take the gun from her.

“I wouldn’t get hurt. I’d just die,” said Crown, her bronzed throat working against the barrel. “You’re not all-powerful here. All you have are wards and puppets. I shoot, the bullet goes through my palate and into the brain, and then you’re the Crown Princess of Ida … like you never wanted.” “Stop being so fucking dramatic—” “Staaahp being so fucking dramahhhtic,” Crown mimicked, in a high-pitched voice. “This isn’t the time, you dumb, hilarious bitch!” “You don’t even know how to fix Naberius’s hair! He needs it done pompadour! He looks awful!” “That’s your opposition? Seriously?”

Regardless, Crown says she'll do it, for real this time. Ianthe doesn't think she has it in her. Crown closes her eyes, and Ianthe says urgently that she really can't save both Cam and Judith. Crown says Ianthe should duel Cam, then. Ianthe says Crown will be mad at her when she kills Cam, but Crown promises she won't, as long as the fight is fair. Ianthe protests, you can't get a fair fight between a Lyctor and a human.

Crown was pleading, “One fight … one last duel. You challenged her with Babs, you know, back on Canaan House. I didn’t do it. So follow through, for me. You always do things for me, don’t you? My heart’s own … my necromancer.” Prince Ianthe Naberius shuddered.

Ianthe says she'll do it if Crown drops the gun. Crown hesitates, but does so. Ianthe doesn't go back on her word, and tells Crown to arbitrate. Crown declares "Parietal(14) to calcaneus,(15) I suppose" and sets the remaining conditions, such as no active necromancy. When Cam asks, what about her, Ianthe offers that if Cam can get Ianthe's handkerchief out of her shirt, Ianthe will consider Cam the winner. Cam doesn't seem to take this very seriously.

The dead soldiers release Cam, and she straightens herself up, picks up her knives. Nona almost wants to scream again, but she's dizzy and nauseous.(16) She can see clearly, so she thinks she's blinked out the dye and lens inserts. She thinks back to the only other fight she's ever been invited to watch, between Hot Sauce and Honesty and some bigger kids who don't go to school, but that one didn't go on after Hot Sauce drove(17) a car and hit one of the other kids beforehand.

The fight begins, and Ianthe and Cam banter a bit, and the fight goes on. Nona tries to take slow breaths, despite the smelly hand over her mouth. If she can just stay calm, maybe it will help Cam. Eventually, Cam does something rather spectacular and flashy that I hesitate to try to describe here, go read it yourself again, and ends up with Ianthe's right wrist in Cam's right hand, and Ianthe's sword in Cam's belly.(18)

“You really don’t know when to throw those things, do you,” said the Prince a little sadly. Camilla said, “Match to the Sixth.” Ianthe said, “What?” and then her eyes rolled backward in her head and she fell.(19)

=====

(1) I'd like to think that doubling of perception and feeling is why Ianthe doesn't seem to really catch on that Harrow isn't Harrow, even though Nona is doing a very poor job of being Harrow even for a little while. (2) I don't think it was made clear earlier that they literally unmoored the entire complex from Mercury and flew it off to BOE territory. (3) Ah yes, the one when Mercy vaporized him. (4) The jackboot of totalitarianism, of course. (5) This is one of the main fandom names for the Lyctors these days. Can't argue with it. (6) This and the glove kiss and all the embracing… these two aren't carrying on like any twins I've ever known. More like the Hitachiin twins from the Ouran High School Host Club manga. (7) Personally, I read this as that Ianthe wants to incorporate Crown's soul now that she's had practice eating Babs's. It would be much more convenient to know that your twin is forever a part of you and can't disappoint or upstage you with her caring about people and being a better leader. (8) Sounds a lot like what she was doing when she had her tantrum. (9) That's an awfully strange thing to cough up after a scream like that. In her tantrum she'd been screaming blood and the lining of her throat. I suppose the "her insides dissolved" line wasn't a complete exaggeration? Also, interesting how often Nona's relationship to water comes up, isn't it? (10) Something about the cry took out everyone who could use necromancy. Judith's screaming didn't take Pal out, though. Why would Nona's use of it be more powerful? Or is it just that Pal was protected by the same means as from Varun's light, because he stays so short a time in Cam's body? (11) She really just called Jod "daddy". (12) Neither is going to let her go without a fight. (13) What would Ianthe be thinking, in that big ol' brain of hers, inside Babs's emotions as well? What would the reminder of Canaan House do to her? Or is it the thought of dueling Cam? (14) The parietal bones are part of the skull, which stitch together to form the main of the sides and top. The… crown, if you will. (15) The calcaneus is one of the bones in the heel of the foot. So, the fight is fair hits from head to toe. (16) From fear for Cam, or aftershocks of her screaming? (17) Let's be honest, stole. (18) It's a classic move to take a deathblow to issue one yourself, but I am once again forced to wonder if Muir has read the Wheel of Time, because a particular sword move that results in just this situation in that series is a major plot point. (19) What did Cam do? How am I supposed to stop reading right now? (Oh right, I don't have to, I can just write the next post!)

#the locked tomb #tlt #nona the ninth #ntn #nona the ninth spoilers #ntn spoilers #nona #camilla hect #coronabeth tridentarius #ianthe naberius #pyrrha dve

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indefiniteimagines · 2 years

Text

In Holy Matrimony || Rue Bennett Imagine

WARNINGS: language, Black reader but anyone can read, reader's last name is Wesley, spicy gif

"This thing is so uncomfortable," I said shifting my body.

"Rue, it's a suit. It's not supposed to be comfortable. It's supposed to look great. Which it does." Lexi put on my jacket and took a step back to admire her work. With a satisfied smile and a nod, she gave me confirmation that I'm ready for the biggest day of my life.

You see after high school I moved in with Jules after another stint in rehab. Only thing is she was more like my warden instead of my girlfriend, so I packed what shit I had and left in the middle of the night. I know, cowardly. But like introductions, confrontation is very debilitating for me. Especially when sober.

Rehab is where I met Y/N. Well, the bus stop down the block. We talked so much she missed her stop. I knew she would be in my life for a long time after our first sleepover,

"So are you ready to tell me where you were really coming from last week?" She asked me as she brushed my hair.

"I told you. I was at work. You know, at The Raddison," I said nervously taking another chip from the bowl.

"I do know The Raddison because that's where I work and I've never seen you. Trust me, I would know you."

Fuck.

"Fine. I was taking a piss in the alley behind The Raddison." She stopped brushing my hair and looked at me in the mirror,

"Rue. You don't have to tell me where you were, but please don't lie to me. Please."

Why is she so cute when she's setting her boundaries?

"I uh, *clears throat*, I was actually leaving the rehab center on 10th."

"Visiting someone you know?"

"Um, no. Not exactly." She just nodded before starting to finger wave my wet curls.

"You're not going to say anything?"

Y/N placed her hands on my shoulders, "It's not my place to judge you, Rue. We all have a past and present and this just so happens to be yours. You're getting yourself help and that's admirable and what matters."

I gave her a half cocked smile and rested my head on her hand. She placed a kiss on the top of my head and went back to what she was doing.

The next few months we’re pure bliss. I mean yeah we argued like every couple, but it usually ended in a mind blowing fuck session. We couldn’t stay mad at each other. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t secretly relapse, but after hearing how proud she was of me and how she was excited for our future, I couldn’t betray her like that. Who am I? More importantly, who is she?

Now I know what you're thinking, "Jules said the same thing. She was there for you." Thing is, Jules like to be the savior and when she couldn't things got bad. Y/N is a healer. She'll watch you save yourself and be there as a safety rail.

“Rue, baby? It’s time.” I looked at my mother and kissed her on the cheek,

“Thank you for being here.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. C’mon. You have a wedding to attend.”

I walked out of the bridal room and got photos snapped before walking to the alter. I passed all my friends and what family I had, all wiping tears or rapidly snapping more pictures. The music started playing and I knew I would see my queen in all her glory in less than two minutes.

The audience on the left could see Y/N before I could and they were all gasping and awing. She stopped when he hit the platform, her back turned to me. I watched as the sun illuminated her beautiful brown skin and created a halo around her white dress. She made her way down the rest of the stairs and to the alter with me.

"Hi."

"Hi," I said back with the goofiest smile.

"Are you nervous, Rue Bennett?"

"I feel like this white suit could turn brown at any moment." She let out that beautiful laugh that hooked me to her. We both turned our attention to Gia who was officiating the ceremony.

"The two would like to exchange their own vows."

"Rue, I love you with my whole heart and with a passion that can't be expressed in words, only in kisses, glances, and years of adventure by your side. I promise to be your honest, faithful, and loving wife for the rest of my days. I pledge to honor you, love you, and cherish you as my wife today and every day. Today I say, "I do" but to me that means, "I will." I will take your hand and stand by your side in the good and the bad. I dedicate myself to your happiness, success, and smile. I will love you forever. You are my every dream come true, and I can't wait for the reality we get to build together. I promise to be your guiding light in the darkness, a warming comfort in the cold, and a shoulder to lean on when life is too much to bear on your own. Give me your hand, and I will give you forever. You are loved more than any metaphor can ever try to express—my love, my wife. I vow to always protect you from harm, to stand with you against your troubles, and to look to you when I need protection. I promise to be yours."

I sniffle, take a deep breath and say, " Y/N, you have taught me that two people joined together with respect, trust, and open communication can be far stronger and happier than each could ever be alone. You are the strength I didn't know I needed and the joy that I didn't know I lacked. Today, I choose to spend the rest of my life with you. You have made me the happiest woman in the world today by agreeing to share your life with me. I promise to cherish and respect you. I promise to care for you and protect you. I promise to comfort you and encourage you. I promise to be with you for all of eternity. I promise to love you for who you are, and for who you are yet to become. I promise to be patient and to remember that all things between us are rooted in love. I promise to nurture your dreams and help you reach them. I promise to better myself for us and for our future family. I vow to be the woman you deserve."

"Holy shit, Rue," she says trying not to smear her eye makeup. Gia wipes her tears and reaches for the rings. We both say "I do" and are pronounced as Wife and Wife.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my great honor and privilege to introduce you to Mrs. and Mrs. Y/N and Ruby Wesley-Bennett!" The crowd stands up as we walk hand in hand past them.

It's a few hours later and the Mrs. and I just got home. I don't even make it to our bedroom before plopping on the couch and peeling my heels from my soles. Y/N disappears behind me and runs upstairs. I'm slumped on the couch when I hear the bedroom door open, but don't pay attention to it. I hear her heels clicking through the house when I call out, "I thought you were changing, baby."

"Oh I did. Hi, Mrs. Wesley-Bennett."

#euphoria #rue euphoria #rue bennett #zendaya #rue bennet x reader #rue bennett imagine #rue bennett x reader

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mikasimaginairyworld · 1 year

Text

The Umbrella Academy: Firecracker - The White Violin (10/30)

Umbrella Academy Masterlist

warnings: blood but not really

word count: 3237

The building shook. Debris was falling everywhere leaving nearly no clear path. Memories flooded through her brain clouding any possibility for judgement. Vanya stormed through the Academy destroying everything in her path.

She had been betrayed by her family. By everyone she ever loved. She had given everything and gotten nothing. That ended now.

Vanya Hargreeves was now her own person. She left the Academy not looking back as everything was falling apart behind her.

Vanya had her concert to attend.

Klaus and Diego ran through the trembling halls looking for Grace and Pogo. Diego carried a still unconscious Nailah in his arms. Suddenly the ceiling started to collapse making both Diego and Klaus collapse on the ground. Klaus was the first to regain consciousness and tried to shake Diego awake but to no use.

Klaus saw the ceiling about to collapse and used the last of his strength to try and push both his siblings out of the way. In the last moment Ben grabbed Diego's legs and pulled him away while Klaus pushed Nailah.

"Holy shit.", Klaus. said looking at Ben in awe.

Diego groaned in pain and got up, grabbing Nailah's body again and Klaus helped him carry all of them outside.

"You okay?", Klaus asked concerned as soon as they let themselves breathe again feeling the cold night air.

Diego grabbed Klaus' face in relief:"You saved my life, man."

Klaus looked at him slightly disturbed and grabbed Nailah slinging her arm over his shoulder:"Yeah, okay, let's go."

"Shit, mom. Mom!", Diego began screaming when he saw Grace in the window.

Both started to shout at her to go down and save herself but the robotic mother just smiled at them sadly and blew them a goodbye kiss before disappearing in the collapsing debris.

Diego was throwing around parts of the broken house screaming for Grace.

"Diego. She's gone, okay? She's gone.", Klaus said softly to Diego carefully pulling him up from the ground.

"Guys.", Five shouted walking through the broken walls.

"What's up with her?", he asked seeing Nailah still unconscious.

"She disagreed with Luther about freeing Vanya.", Klaus said stroking Nailah's curls away from her face.

Five scoffed: "So you thought the way to go was to knock her out? You do realise she's gonna burn you for it?"

"It was the right thing to do.", Luther defended himself.

Five sighed and lifted Nailah's chin examining her face. Without further hesitation he slapped her across the face earning an angry look from Allison. But it worked. Nailah opened her eyes in confusion looking around. "How long was I out to miss this?"

"Irrelevant. We need to get going.", Five said.

"What about Pogo?", Diego asked.

"He didn't make it.", Luther said sadly.

"What?", Nailah breathed.

"Vanya killed him.", Luther sighed and Nailah gasped in horror.

"No, Vanya wouldn't...", Diego began.

"No, I saw it.", Luther interrupted. "Just before we got out."

"Mom. Now Pogo.", Diego muttered.

Nailah was biting her nails nervously: "I'm gonna kill that bitch."

"Guys! This is it. The apocalypse is still on. The world is ending today.", Five shouted interrupting everyone.

"I thought you said it was over.", Luther said confused.

"I was wrong, okay. This. newspaper. I found it in the future the day I got stuck. The headline hasn't changed.", Five explained feverishly.

"But that doesn't mean anything. Time could've been altered since that newspaper came out this morning.", Diego intercepted.

"You're not listening to me. When I found it, I assumed this place came down along with everything else. But here we are. The moon's still shining, the earth's still in one piece, but not the academy.", Five sighed.

Klaus ripped the newspaper from Five's hands: "I'm confused."

"Then listen to me, you idiot! Vanya destroys the Academy before the apocalypse. I thought Harold Jenkins was the cause but he was just the fuse.", Five explained.

"And that would make Vanya the bomb.", Nailah finished.

"Precisely. Vanya causes the apocalypse. We have to find her.", before anyone could respond to Five, helicopters began whirring above the ruins of the academy.

Diego and Five cursed.

"Regroup at the superstar. Go!", Five ordered and everyone scattered away in different directions.

At the Superstar Lanes Bowling the tensions were high.

"Look, I hate to be the one to say this, but everyone needs to prepare.", Luther announced.

"For what?", Diego asked.

"To do whatever it takes to stop Vanya.", Allison hit Luther in response to that. "We may not have a choice, Allison.", Luther sighed.

"Bullshit. There's always options.", Diego intercepted.

"That's true. Vanya had one and she chose to kill Pogo. That's a choice.", Nailah said. "Besides, what other option do we have?", she asked.

Diego sighed: "I don't know." Nailah scoffed.

"Look, whatever we decide, we need to find Vanya. And fast at that. She could be anywhere.", Luther stood up.

"Or... here. Look at this.", Klaus held up the newspaper.

"That's right. Her concert is tonight.", Diego murmured.

"Hello. I hate to intrude but my manager says if you're not gonna bowl, you gotta leave.", a worker said and the manager slammed bowling shoes on the counter from a distance.

Nailah let her eyes glow and Luther picked up a bowling ball and threw it on the lanes, scoring a strike.

SHE'S OUR SISTER. Appeared on Allison's notebook.

"She killed Pogo.", Nailah countered. "We're the only ones capable of stopping this. We have a responsibility to dad.", Luther tried to reason.

"To dad? No, I've heard enough about...", Diego got angry.

"He sacrificed everything to bring us back together.", Luther interrupted.

"I'm with Luther on this one. We can't give her a chance to fight back. There are. billions of lives at stake. We're past trying to save just one. Or avenge just one, for that matter.", Five. directed the last part at Nailah who just scoffed at him.

"Hey, you know guys, maybe I could help.", Klaus proposed.

"Now's not the time.", Luther sighed annoyed.

"No. Let him finish. He saved mine and Nailah's life today.", Diego intercepted.

"Really?", Nailah asked confused.

"Is that true?", Luther looked at Klaus sceptically.

"Yeah, I did take credit for it. In fact the real hero, was Ben.", Klaus admitted. Everyone looked at him sceptically.

"Listen, just. Today, he punched me in the face. And earlier at the house he was the one who said Diego's life, not me.", Klaus insisted.

"You are unbelievable, Klaus.", Luther scoffed and Allison rolled her eyes.

"You want proof, is that it?", Klaus asked. "All right. I'll give you proof.", he announced and picked up a bowling ball. He threw it in the air as if he was throwing it to someone but the ball landed as expected on the ground.

"Is there any way to silence that voice in your head that screams out to be the centre of attention?", Luther asked sarcastically.

"You know, I like you a whole lot better before you got laid.", Klaus snapped back. Allison's head jerked forward and a angry expression painted itself on her face.

Klaus realised what he had said and tried to save himself and Luther: "Which was a complete... which wasn't his fault 'cause he was completely high, right? And... and the girl she though he was a furry..."

"Stop!"

"Okay."

Allison grabbed her notebook and left the group with a very annoyed expression. "Allison, wait!", Luther followed her.

"Excuse me! Today's my son Kenny's birthday and wouldn't your kids be happier spending time with kids their age?", a strange woman dragged along her son. Five and Nailah looked at themselves they did look young but they didn't think they. could. be mistaken for fifteen.

"Assuming it's okay with your two dads.", the lady added. Everyone looked at each other shocked.

Five hummed annoyed: "I would rather chew my own foot."

Nailah snickered: "What he said."

The lady walked away with her son, clearly disturbed. Five heard something and went in the other direction.

"If I was going to date a man you'd be the last man I would date.", Diego said.

"You'd be lucky to get me."

"Alright, where's Five?", Luther asked.

"He left.", Diego answered.

"For the love of... Where'd he go?"

"Didn't tell us.", Nailah said.

"Well, we're not waiting around for him. The concert starts in 30 minutes."

"Alright, so what's the plan?", Diego asked.

Luther began stuttering. "What? Is that all you got? Look, you wanna be Number One, fine, but you're gonna have to get us on the same page, because right now we're all over the place. Five's gone, Klaus is tuning insane, Nailah is this close to committing an actual murder and Allison wants to stop all of this without her powers.", Diego angrily said.

"You're right. We need a plan.", Luther agreed.

But before they could come up with anything, masked snipers invaded the bowling lanes. The siblings rushed to hind behind the counters.

"Who the hell are these guys?", Luther asked.

"Maybe they're here for Kenny's birthday.", Klaus said earning an annoyed glanced from Nailah.

"No, I'm pretty sure they're here for us.", Luther said peeking above the counter.

Diego let a knife fly towards the attackers and immediately killed one. They fall caused the lights to stick onto disco mode.

Luther used the second confusion and darkness to grab a bowling ball and throw it at another shooter, killing him as well. Luther kept throwing bowling balls like a cannon knocking over one shooter after the other. Nailah joined, shooting fireballs out of her hands blinding and confusing the attackers. Klaus crawled towards Kenny's birthdaycake and threw it at the shooters as well, while Diego kept attacking with his manipulated knifes.

"They're blocking the exit!", Klaus informed through the noise.

"So what's the plan now, Luther?", Diego asked throwing another knife.

Allison pointed at the lanes. "The lanes! Let's go!", Luther shouted and everyone began running towards the bowling pins.

Klaus, Luther, Nailah, Allison and Diego slid not very gracefully through the holes and immediately ran away through the back exit.

Arriving at the Icarus theater where Vanya was already playing Luther didn't want Allison to go talk to Vanya alone. Allison looked at him intently.

"Okay." , Luther gave in and Allison disappeared in the audience.

"You're using her as a distraction, aren't you?", Diego asked.

"Our best chance to incapacitate Vanya.", Luther confirmed.

"Who are you what have you done to our Number One?", Nailah asked eying Luther from head to toe.

"So what's the plan?", Klaus asked.

"Diego, you're with me. You two, wait out front.", Luther ordered.

"What, why?", Klaus asked.

"You're the lookout and you don't have yourself under control.", Luther explained.

"The lookout?", Klaus asked confused. "Not under control?", Nailah groaned. But before they could protest Diego and Luther were already gone.

"Wanna get a burrito?", Klaus asked.

"Always."

In the stage room Vanya was playing first chair. Allison walked up to the stage mesmerised by her sister's talent. In the backstage area Luther and Diego were preparing themselves for an attack. Vanya spotted Allison in the crowd and smiled at her.

Allison felt a flicker of hope simmer inside of her.

Luther and Diego ran on stage in an attempt to catch Vanya. She only let the bow fly on the violin strings, sending an energy wave out. Diego and Luther were thrown back.

The audience began running out of the theater in panic. Vanya kept playing.

In horror, the back players wanted to escape as well but Vanya send another energy wave in their direction, making them sit back down and keep playing. Vanya stepped to the end of the stage with a determined look on her face.

"She's stronger than expected.", Luther muttered taking cover behind the chairs next to Diego. A bag hit his head. He saw Allison sending him a venomous look.

"Yeah, we're fine, thanks for asking.", he said sarcastically. "Look, I almost lost you once. I wasn't about to lose this again."

Allison's angry expression didn't change.

"Well, so much for the element of surprise. What else you got?", Diego asked. Allison motioned a violin. "No shit, Allison. Tell us something we don't already know.", Diego scoffed.

"She's talking about the violin. It's her lightning rod. If we can take it from her and stop her from playing we have a shot.", Luther said proud of Allison's idea.

At that moment the same masked shooters from the bowling alley infiltrated the theater. The musicians had enough. In fear they ran out of the theatre. Vanya only kept playing even more vividly.

"What the hell happened to Nailah and Klaus? They were supposed to be on lookout.", Diego said taking cover.

"Yeah, you're surprised?", Luther shouted.

"What's with all the lollygagging?", Five asked blitzing into the theatre.

"Five, get down!", Luther screamed. Gasping in surprise, Five quickly took cover in between audience chairs.

"I thought you bailed on us!", Luther shouted in an accusing tone.

"I had an errand to run. This is not good.", Five dismissed him scanning the room in the search for a way out.

"You know these guys?", Diego asked.

"Yeah, I do."

Diego sighed annoyed: "And?"

"Well... we're screwed.", Five announced spotting even more flooding the room.

Diego quickly threw his knives hitting most of the shooters right in the chest.

"Guys! It's Cha-Cha!", Klaus came running inside with Nailah right behind him.

"Klaus, Nailah, get down!", Luther yelled at them.

Klaus immediately listened and took cover in between the audience chairs but Nailah wasn't near enough. As fast as she could, Nailah caught the bullets flying her way in a fiery shield.

Five immediately blitzed on the back of a shooter making him swirl around and shoot his accomplices, giving Nailah a chance to take cover as well.

Klaus' fists started to glow in a piercing blue. The light began to form a shape and soon materialised into Ben. Yelling, Klaus let Ben expose his stomach and huge tentacles escaped his body. The libs grabbed the shooters, killing them with ease. The siblings stared in awe unable to find a reaction.

On the stage, a bloody Cha-Cha appeared. Diego immediately sprinted towards her, fighting her into. the backstage area.

Finally Klaus let Ben go back to the ghost realm. "Now, who's the lookout.", he grinned.

Vanya kept playing her violin. The energy coming from the music started to turn the violin and Vanya's clothes white as snow, nearly transparent. A rumble went through the theatre as a response to Vanya's immense power.

"Oh, welcome back. Where were you?", Luther asked seeing Diego in a light jog joining the rest of the siblings.

"Honouring a memory. So how do we wanna end this thing?"

"We surround her. Alright? We come at her from all angles.", Luther said.

"And kill her?", Nailah asked.

"No. Focus.", Luther said.

"So it's a suicide mission?", Klaus recapped.

"Yes, but one of us could get through. It's the only chance we've got. Are we all in?", Five said.

Everyone besides Allison confirmed. Diego and Nailah were to go stage left, Luther stage right and Klaus and Five from the front. The siblings scattered away.

Vanya's body began glowing not only from the contrast of the white clothing but from within. Debris started falling down from the ceiling.

On Luther's signal the siblings attacked with Vanya. They didn't even get close to her before she slashed her bow, binding them to her power.

Vanya stood there, her body and eyes glowing, her power sucking at the life of her siblings. Behind her, Allison pointed a gun at her head with tears in her eyes.

Allison looked at Vanya's small statue, then at her siblings losing their life energy, then back at Vanya.

Silent tears were streaming down Allison's face.

Allison took a step froward. Then another. Before the gun could touch the back of Vanya's head she placed it next to her ear and shot.

The noise disturbed Vanya's harmony and she collapsed lifelessly on the stage. Her power disconnected from her siblings.

Instead, a light blast was shot into space.

Allison caught Vanya and to her relief she was still alive. The siblings gathered around them.

"We did it. We saved the world.", Luther sighed happily.

"Guys?", Klaus interrupted the happy moment. "You see that big moon rock coming towards us?"

"Shit. That's not good.", Nailah commented.

"So this is it, huh? So much for saving the world.", Klaus scratched his chest in resignation.

"If only Sir Reginald could see us now. The Umbrella Academy. A total failure.", Diego scoffed with a slight satisfaction in his voice.

"This doesn't have to end.", Five said.

"What are you saying, Five?", Nailah asked from the ground.

"I think I have a way outta here. But you gotta trust me on this.", Five announced.

"Nope.", Klaus said. "No, I don't think so.", Luther added. "Definitely not.", Nailah scoffed. "Never.", Diego finished.

"Well then we might swell accept our fate, because in less than a minute we're gonna be vaporised."

"What's your idea then?", Diego asked.

"We use my ability to time travel. But this time, I'll take you with me.", Five proposed.

"You can do that?"

"I don't know. I've never tried it before."

"What's the worst that can happen?", Diego asked.

"You're looking at it. A 58-year old in the body of a 18-years old."

"Okay, we're in.", Luther agreed.

The siblings stood in a circle holding each other's hands. Five closed his eyes and concentrated. This had to work. A blue light appeared above them. Electricity began whirring and their bodies began to itch.

Five looked at his siblings. In the time-light they seemed so young, almost as young as when he had accidentally left them. All of them were looking at the blue light with worry and expectations. All but one. Nailah was looking straight at Five with no fear or worry in her eyes. She trusted him completely.

The blue light sallowed them whole and the last thing Five saw before the world went into darkness was Nailah's encouraging smile.

-> Umbrella Academy Masterlist

Hello everyone. Season 1 is done and so is the first part of this fan fiction. I really hope you're enjoying it this far and I would be very happy for any feedback. Do you like Nailah? Do you think she is integrated well into the story? Is there a character that I should focus on more?

I'm alway happy to hear your thoughts. Thank you for reading and I hope you'll keep doing so.

Love ya <3

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua #luther hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #allison hargreeves #diego hargreeves #five hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #victor hargreeves #nailah hargreeves #series #fanfic #netflix

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