#I do feel sorry for my grandma she always liked this show

[boybandbaby]

The Sweet Escape Part VI

911 AU (Prince!Evan Buckley x Fem!Baker!Reader)

previous part

word count: 3119

warnings/tags: mention of character death, mention of character illness, argument, physical assault (slapping), as always if i miss anything please let me know

note: there are so many skips in this chapter i am so sorry

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You’ve slept the best you’ve ever slept last night. That’s mostly thanks to one Evan Buckley.

As you slip your apron over your clothes, tying the back as best as you can, you hear two voices coming from kitchen. You furrow your brows and quickly move down the stairs.

Living above the bakery was such a blessing that you could pop down to start work just barely 10 minutes after waking up. Your grandma had been awake when you woke up, already heading down to the bakery but you weren’t aware that Ravi was going to be starting this early.

As you get closer, you realize it’s not Ravi speaking. You turn the corner, taking that last step down with a smile plastered on your face. “Buck! What are you doing here?”

“She's so rude, isn’t she? Can’t even say good morning.” He nudges your grandma, an act too casual for a soon to be king. “You sure you raised her?” He winks at you, holding his oil covered hands up.

“She didn’t learn this behavior from me.” Your grandma nudges him back. “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise, y/n? The prince stopped by wanting to help out today.” She widens her eyes and pumps her eyebrows at you behind Buck’s back as she takes the baking tray to the fridge.

“I told you, Buck is just fine ma’am." He turns to her when she rolls her eyes then back to you, “I’m learning how to make a focaccia. That’s what it’s called right?” He smiles down at your grandma as she passes by him, back to the counter to help him.

“And like I told you, enough with the ma’am. Just like my granddaughter, making me feel old.” She pats his hip to move him out of the way. “And yes, that’s correct. He’s been so helpful this morning.” She swoons.

You roll your eyes and step forward to squeeze his hip. You leave your hand there as you peer from around his body.

“Grandma, don’t you have some things to do in the front?” You try to subtly shoo her. You nod your head to the right, in the direction of the front, before briefly looking up at Buck. He’s amused by the whole interaction. He knows what you're doing and he's glad.

“Fine, fine. I get it.” She laughs before wiping her hands on her apron. “I’ll go make myself busy. Take that bread out in 10 minutes.”

“Yes ma-“ He cuts himself off when your grandma glares at him. He apologizes before she’s out of the kitchen. “Calling her by her first name seems disrespectful.”

“It’s fine. She’s not really a fan of the whole formal thing.” You shrug.

“But she always calls me Prince whenever I see her." He laughs.

“She may not like royalty but she knows better than to disrespect royalty."

“What do you mean?” He uses the back of his hand, near his wrist to brush at your hairline.

“Doesn’t matter. Anyway, happy birthday.” You smile, giving his hip another squeeze before letting go.

“Hi, thank you.” Buck turns his attention back to the tray of dough. He uses his fingers to poke into the oily dough like your grandma showed him.

“You’re crazy for coming here but I’m glad to see you.” You admit.

“I just had to see you, make sure last night wasn’t a dream.” He blushes.

“It definitely wasn’t.” You flush. You wash your hands and press the cold backs to your cheeks. You both hold each others’ gaze before laughing.

Buck reaches to scratch the back of his neck before remembering he’s got oil on his hands. “I uh, I’ve been thinking. I would really like you at the wedding. I know it's last minute and the wedding is in four days.”

“Wait, what?” You tilt your head.

“Yeah, it would mean a lot to me if you could be there. Just as some support.” He turns back to the dough.

“You’re still getting married? Didn’t last night change anything for you?” You scoff, pulling his shoulder back. You try to get him to look at you.

“Last night meant so much to me but I still have to get married.” His voice rises just a tad.

“What about you wanting to become a teacher? I thought you…” you shake your head, bringing your voice back down. “Never mind.”

“Being a teacher is just a dream. It could never happen. As much as I’d like to not have the life I have, it just doesn’t work that way.” Buck's tone intensifies.

“Right… so why did you come here then Buck?” You look down to the floor, your hands finding shelter in your apron pocket.

“I told you. I needed to see you.” He bends down at the neck to try and catch your eyes.

“You’re getting married, Buck. You can’t come and see me like this anymore.” Your fingers twist in the fabric.

“You knew I was getting married when you came to see me last night. That didn’t stop us.” He sasses. He’s becoming upset.

“I’m not trying to fight with you, Evan. I just- I’m confused. I guess I thought things were going to be different.”

“Hey, no. We’re not fighting.” He rubs his hands on a nearby towel and shakes his head. “I love you and last night was perfect but I can’t just drop everything and start a new life. I have people to protect and a kingdom to run.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” You take a step back. “I was wrong to go over last night. You’re engaged. We shouldn’t have done what we did.” You move to check on the bread in the over just as instructed by your grandma.

“You regret it?” His voice lowers significantly, eyes shining with pain.

“Not at all, I just think we weren’t thinking it through.” He runs a hand over his face at your words. “Buck, I love you and last night was so special. I’m sorry. I know this isn’t easy for you. I guess I just assumed things would’ve changed.” You dust your hands on your apron and grab his hand. “I can’t go. I want to support you but seeing you marry someone else… it hurts too much. I love you.” You kiss his knuckles.

He’s since turned away from you, shoulders slumped. But as you give his knuckles a few pecks and he feels tears tickle his skin, he faces you. There’s tears streaming down his face too. “Worst birthday ever.” He laughs through his quiet sobs.

“Totally. I’m sorry.” You laugh with him and pull him in for a hug. You rub your tear stained cheeks on his sweater.

“I think I should go.” He breathes into your hair.

“Yeah,” you sniffle and pull back from him. “Take care of yourself, Buckley.”

“I’ll try. Promise me you won’t give your grandma a hard time?” You nod and kiss his cheek.

“Where the hell were you?” June asks as soon as Buck enters his room. He jumps at the sound of her voice, not noticing her presence when he initially entered the room.

“That’s none of your business.” Buck shrugs before making his way to his bed. He already has his clothes laid out for the day.

“I am your wife.” She stands from the couch and makes her way over to him. “Is that flour on your shirt? You were with her weren’t you?”

“You’re not my wife.” Buck points out. “And how did you even get in here?”

“Doesn’t matter.” June pulls his arm so he can face her. “I don’t want you seeing her anymore. Do you understand?”

“God, you’re just like a little clone of my mother.” Buck rips his arm from her grip. “I want to get something straight with you, June. I don’t love you and I can guarantee I never will. I’m only marrying you to please my parents. So, you can either learn to deal with that or leave. There's the door." He throws his arm out, finger pointing at the wooden door as he strips his sweater off.

June is frozen in her tracks as her eyes began to water. Buck can’t find it in himself to feel guilty. She isn't the nicest person and she's not the woman he wants to spend his life with.

“Are we done?” He raises a brow, throwing his sweater onto the bed.

June nods before practically bolting out of the room. Buck sighs and rests his head on the bed post. He softly bangs his forehead onto the wooden post a couple times before picking his clean clothes up and heading to take a shower.

“Y/n!” You faintly hear. “Y/n! Wake up.” You’re startled with a shake to your body. You jump when you see Albert hovered over you. You quickly cover yourself with your blanket. You not wearing anything indecent but you've never had a boy in your bedroom. Sadly, this wasn't the boy that you wanted.

“Albert? What the hell?”

“It’s your grandma.” He says urgently.

Throwing the blanket off your body, you slip on your slippers, tie a robe around your waist, and follow him down to the bakery. When you’re down in the kitchen, you see that your grandma is awake but slumped in a chair.

“What happened?” You kneel in front of her, down on your knees.

“Everything’s fine. I just need a moment.” She fans herself with a sheet of paper.

“She fainted.” Albert chimes in.

“It’s okay. I feel better now that I’ve had some water. Albert, you need to get the cake up to the palace. It’s the big day.”

“Don’t worry about that. We need to get you looked at.” You reach up to feel her forehead.

“Y/n, I’m fine. Please just go back upstairs to change.”

“You don’t look well. You’re pale and clammy. We need to go see Dr. Wilson.” You urge.

“Don’t bother, y/n. The wedding is the most important thing today. We’ll have to wait until tomorrow to get checked out.”

“We're not waiting until tomorrow. I’m going up there myself and she’s going to come see you. I don’t care about the stupid wedding.” You stand up.

She grabs your hand, “You will not. You’ll go get dressed and come down here to run the bakery. I’ll get some rest then. Albert, get the cake to the palace, please.”

Albert is quickly working, stacking a layer of cake onto the next. He had followed your grandma's instructions exactly as explained. He felt the sweat accumulating on his eyebrow as he placed the topper onto the center of the top layer. He is hoping to get this done so that he could get back to the bakery and help out.

“Hey, little brother.” Chimney claps Albert’s shoulder. “The cake looks great.”

“Thanks, Chim.” Albert quietly murmurs.

“You okay?” Chimney squeezes his shoulder.

“Can we talk in private?” Albert turns to him, looking around.

“Sure.” Chimney pulls him to a vacant corridor.

“Y/n’s grandma fainted this morning. She refusing to get looked at today because of the wedding.”

“You want me to talk to Hen and send her over there?" Chim offers.

“Would you? Y/n would really appreciate it.” Albert breathes a sigh of relief. "I know it's a busy day-"

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” Chim nods.

“Sounds like she’s got heat syncope.” Hen comes down the stairs.

“What is that?” You ask.

“Happens due to a drop in blood pressure caused by excessive heat exposure.” She apologetically smiles. “She needs to rest and stay hydrated, make sure she stays cool and no work today."

“Thanks Dr. Wilson, I know you’re busy today but it means a lot that you could come.” You hand her a small box of pastries for her family.

“Thank you. Denny and Karen love those mango pastries." She smiles before adding, "So, you’re not coming today?” She slips the box into the crook of her arm.

“I can’t. For many reasons.” You meet her eyes. “Can you give this to him for me?” You hand her a folded piece of paper.

As soon as Hen makes her way back to the palace, Buck is already waiting outside of her home.

“How is she?” He bites at his nails.

“She’s getting some rest right now but she’s fine.” Hen reassures him.

“And y/n? How is she feeling?"

“She’s worried and scared for her grandma.” Hen unlocks the door, pushing the heavy door open.

“Is she dying?” He cringes at the brash way it comes out.

“No, Buck." She shakes her head and sets her medical bag and box of pastries on the kitchen table. "You should be getting ready right now.”

“I should be going to check on, y/n. I mean am I stupid? The girl I love, loves me back. She practically offered me my dream life and instead I shut her down and I’m getting fucking married.” Buck pulls at his hair.

“I'm sorry, I don't know what to tell you Buck. But here, she wanted me to give this to you.” Hen hands him the folded note.

“Thanks, Hen.” He rubs his thumb over the note. “Thank you for going to check on her grandma.”

“It’s no problem. I know y/n is worried because of what happened to her mom.”

“Her mom?” Buck asks. He knows she passed when you were 15 but you weren’t really friends at the time so he doesn’t know much about her.

“You don’t know?” Hen opens her front door and Buck follows her in.

“Know what Hen?”

“Y/n’s mom got really sick but your parents had requested that the doctor move closer to the palace to be near Daniel. Y/n's mom was too sick to travel to the palace for regular check ups. The day of her death Y/n had been sent to the palace to get the doctor but when he arrived a few hours later, her mom had already died.”

“Hours?” Hen nods.

“Why didn’t the doctor go sooner?”

“Your mother had Daniel on a strict regimen and the doctor was constantly at his beck and call.”

“If he had been there sooner would she have lived?” Buck rubs his temples.

"I don't think so. Her health was already declining. Your parents received a lot of backlash for pulling the doctor closer to the palace instead of keeping him in town. It's one of the reasons they opened up the town clinic." She adds.

“Thanks, Hen.” Buck leaves. When he gets to his room, he throws himself on the bed with a soft groan.

Dear Evan Buckley, Today is your big day. I know for both of us, it’s going to be a hard day. I hope that eventually you can find true happiness in whatever way possible even if your life is planned for you. I hope that when you become king, you can really be a king for the people. You’re so kind and you care so much about others, I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll be thinking of us villagers. I hope that you use your power for good and don’t let it get to your head. I hope you stay humble and pure of heart. I’ll always love you, Buckley. I’ll always think of you and the moments we shared. I’ll continue sending your favorite pastries to the palace in hopes that it brings a smile to your face, even if I’ll never get to see it again. You have the best smile. Have I ever told you that? As cheesy as it sounds, your smile lights up a room. Your laughter is contagious and you’re so funny! (Yes, it hurt me to admit this.) But it’s true. I wish you the best moving forward, Buck. Just know, you always have me and the bakery if you ever need to get away, even for a little while. I love you. Your Y/n

“Where is he?” Phillip storms through the door. “I know you’re hiding him.”

“Sir, he’s not here.” You speak. His presence has startled the few patrons you have and they start to make their way out of the bakery. In their place comes half the wedding party.

Pushing her way to the front, Margaret points a finger dangerously close to your face. “You corrupted my son! He deserves better than you.”

“Don’t act like you care at all about what your son deserves. You’re only thinking about yourself and how his future benefits you. You are so selfish.”

“Selfish? You're the little tramp that's preventing Evan from becoming King. It's his duty to run this kingdom and you can only think about yourself.”

You roll your eyes, “Have you ever stopped the ask your son if he even wants to be King?”

“It’s not about what he wants. It’s about what’s best for the people.” Philip shouts as he towers over you.

You scoff, “like you know what best for the people.” You set down the pair of tongs in your hand, crossing your arms.

“You’re out of line." He barks. "Now, where is Evan?”

“He’s not here. Maybe if you knew him better, you’d have a clue where to find him.” You sassed.

“We do know our son!” Margaret cries.

“Really? Then tell me what his favorite food is? Or- or his favorite book? Color? Anything!” You shout at her. “You think you know your son but you’re wrong. Evan is an amazing person with amazing dreams and an amazing heart. I’m sorry you won’t get to see that.”

“What do you mean we won’t get to see that? If you both think he’s staying here, with you, in these poor conditions, you’re both sadly mistaken.” Philip’s tone is sharp and aggressive.

“Let’s not act like you give an ounce of shit about him. If Daniel was here you wouldn’t give a shit about Buck.”

The next thing that happens makes the room go silent aside from a few gasps. You don’t register the slap to your face at first. It honestly feels numb for a few seconds before the stinging happens.

Athena steps forward and places a hand on your cheek. Her touch is cold against your hot cheek. “That was uncalled for.” Athena turns to Margaret and Phillip. "She does not deserve this treatment."

Margaret takes a step back with a shocked expression like she hadn’t been the one to hit you. Like she didn’t have control over her own actions. "I'm-

"Mom-" Maddie's voice wobbles as she pulls her mother back by her shoulders.

“Like I said before, Buck is not here." You pull Athena’s hand from your face. "Please leave."

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next part

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

No offense to boomers, but I honestly did not think the age demographic for this show was young enough to have a twitter presence. The copaganda is crossgenerational apparently.

[nachrosas]

DADDY'S DOCTOR | s.reid x reader

summary: in which Paddy suffers an accident and doctor Spencer enters the scene. pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: small mentions of needles word count: 807 a/n: while i'm working on the second chapter of my unsub!reader series, i left you guys another dad!spencer! hope you like it!

The majestic silence of the late afternoon was only interrupted by a series of low, irregular sobs. On the floor of the lilac room, among the scattered building blocks and pencils, Olivia was sitting cross-legged, her face hidden behind Paddy. Her favorite teddy bear.

Soft sunlight streamed in through the open window, illuminating the teddy's arm, which now hung loosely, almost completely torn. Loose threads stood out like exposed wounds, and Oliva held the toy carefully as if she feared hurting it even more.

Her small shoulders trembled as she tried to hold back tears. “I'm sorry, Teddy,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn't mean to hurt you!”

Just then, light footsteps echoed down the corridor. The bedroom door opened slowly, and you and Spencer appeared. You stopped midway when you noticed Olivia's expression.

“Baby? What happened?” you asked, your voice laden with concern. 

She raised her watery eyes, showing you the teddy bear. “I… I just wanted to hold him tight, but… I ended up hurting Paddy!” she explained, sobbing. “Now he's broken…”

Spencer tilted his head, observing the damage with a careful eye. He knelt down beside her and picked up the teddy bear, examining the torn arm with almost scientific precision.

“Ah.” he said softly, a slight smile appearing on his face. “It looks serious, but nothing a good doctor can't fix.”

Olivia blinked, confused. “A doctor? You know how to fix it?”

You plopped down next to her and said with false seriousness, holding back a smile. “This is Doctor Spencer Reid and he's at your service! His specialty is surgery on good teddy bears!” She looked at you with a twinkle in her eye. “And, of course, like any good surgeon, he'll need a talented assistant. Will you help him?”

For the first time since Paddy's tear, Olivia let out a shy smile, wiping away the tears with the sleeve of her blouse. “I'll do it.”

And just like that, the room turned into a makeshift operating theater, with Spencer already planning the procedure while Olivia and you watched the scene with curious and hopeful eyes.

Spencer came back into the room with a small sewing kit in his hands, balancing a pin cushion and brown thread that matched Olivia's teddy bear. He knelt down beside her, opening the kit as if it were a first aid kit.

“Now, we need to prepare for emergency surgery,” announced Spencer, adjusting his glasses and assuming an exaggeratedly serious tone.

Olivia watched him carefully, her eyes still slightly moist. “Surgery? Are you really going to fix Paddy?”

“Of course!” he replied, smiling. ”But first we need to anesthetize the patient.”

With that, he took a band-aid from his wallet and carefully placed it over the teddy bear's head. “There. He won't feel a thing now,” he explained, winking at Olivia.

You started to laugh and noticed that Olivia's little eyes began to sparkle. “Paddy doesn't have a real head, Spencer!”

“You're right!” he said, nodding with false gravity. “But it's always better to be safe!”

Spencer then picked up the thread and needle, beginning the repair with his deft fingers. As he worked, he looked at Olivia. “You know, when I was little, I had a favorite toy too. A rabbit called Watson. I used to carry him everywhere.”

“Watson?” she asked, curious.

“Yes. He lost his ear once when I left him near a washing machine.” Spencer continued, frowning as if reliving the moment. “Grandma Diana sewed it back on for me. It was the first time I'd seen someone repair something that I thought was impossible to fix.”

“Did you cry?” Olivia asked, leaning forward.

“A lot! I cried so much I could hardly speak!” admitted Spencer, laughing. ”But Grandma said Watson was stronger than ever. Because there was part of her in him now!”

Olivia smiled, watching as Spencer finished sewing up the teddy bear's arm.

“Now we just need to close the cut and… that's it!” he held the teddy up in the air as if presenting a work of art. “Paddy is officially cured! He's got a bit of you, Mommy, and me in him now.”

Olivia picked up the teddy, hugging it tightly before throwing herself into Spencer's arms. “Thank you, Daddy! You're the best teddy bear doctor in the world!”

Spencer smiled and hugged her back, stroking the top of her head. “You're welcome, my love. I'm glad Paddy's back on the team!”

The three of you were sitting together on the bedroom floor. Olivia was happily playing with Paddy on the carpet, pretending that they were going on an adventure with their other toys. You leaned your head on Spencer's shoulder as you watched the scene with a satisfied smile, murmuring in a low voice: “Small gestures really can be the best medicine for the heart.”

[lovifie]

Hi this is my first ever request lol, so I uh was wondering if you could write a soap x reader little red riding hood. It could be some cute fluff or I guess even smutty depending on how you'd want to depict it. Sorry if it's a rather blank request, I'm very bland when it comes to writing and such (>_<)

Hi love! Thank you so much for the request, I hope I met your expectations 🩷

It did turn really smutty though, so I hope you don't mind 🩷

Smut | 1818 words | Back to Masterlist

W: Werewolf!Soap x Little Red Riding Hood!Reader (inspired at least), smut, defined breeding kink must it's mostly a werewolf thing, biting, mentions of pregnancy (is the breeding kink warm up, you know), knoting.

You were used to being the one taking your grandma her food, making sure she still ate the produce she couldn't acquire in her house deep into the forest.

So every other week, you would do your little journey. It didn't take long, you'll get to her house before lunch time and you chose to stay the day with her before making your way back.

You already knew the path like the back of your hand, always on time and never getting lost.

There is also Johnny, a friendly neighbour who on many occasions chooses to walk along with you. The chat is nice, makes the walk more entertaining even when you go the different route that Johnny showed you; just because it is longer and that way you can talk for longer.

You obviously didn't trust him at first, a grown man in the middle of the forest sounds terrifying on its own. And you need to add to that the fact that Johnny is built like a brick house.

“I could have you for dinner.” He joked once when you asked him what did he ate to be so big. A silly joke.

The fear of the big man following you in the forest, quickly turned into the big man walking with you. And the little fear you had of the wild dissipated the closer he walked with you.

Especially, when during the spring rumours started flying around about a massive wolf living in the forest. Apparently a huge striped dog has been seen walking on the forest line for a couple of weeks now, always looking into the town but never quite entering.

The dog, big enough to be the size of a grown man on his hinged legs, eyes that reflect the light of the fire and teeth to rip the flesh off the bone.

Your grandma moved out of her house, moving inside town to be away from the animal. Still, you couldn't sleep at night knowing Johnny was out there.

With your grandma living in your house, you didn't have an excuse to walk in the forest. But still, on a freezing morning in the middle of spring you found yourself walking inside the forest wishing you could come across Johnny quickly and be back home.

What you come across instead, is a growling behind you. So deep you feel it shaking your bones before you can see it. You only need to see the outline of the monster before you are sprinting for your life, it is a stupid decision and you know it. It immediately triggers the beast to follow you.

The path to your grandma's house has never been so long and you don't even make half way through before you fall, tripping on your own feet. You turn around, looking for the dog which seems to have evaporated into thin air.

A warm hand on your back makes you jump, turning around and coming face to face with Johnny, a pained expression on his face. You jump into his arms, a groan into your ear as he hugs you back, a bit too hard.

You peel back when he cups your face. “You shouldn't be here, bonnie.” He says, looking in pain, making every alarm bell ring on your head.

You pat his body, looking for any injury and hearing him groan whenever your hand touches his body. “Are you in pain? Did it attack you? Are you fine?” You ask frantically.

“Lass!” He grunts, making you look into his eyes, dark when you lay your eyes on his. “You need to get back! Get away from me!”

“But why?” You ask, hurt with the rejection. “I came here just for you, Johnny…”

He groans, looking away from your face as he licks his lips. He sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “You need to go back because every part of my body is screaming at me to eat you whole, bonnie.”

“You can.” It comes out before you can register it, you are not a stranger to your own feelings for the man in front of you. The weekly walks, your hand on his arm, his hand on your back, the soft pecks on your cheek when saying goodbye. It quickly had you getting home warm on the face and your tummy.

The man groans again, closing his eyes, as if your words hurt him. “You don't know what you are saying-”

“I do! I do know!” You argue, cutting him off and sitting up closer to him but his arms pull you back. He looks down on you, searching for any doubt in your face. Anything that could silence the hungry voice in his brain, but when the only thing he can find is the same hunger in yours he laps forward, crushing his lips on yours.

He is not gentle by any means, his wide hands roam your body pulling you closer, grabbing your body, winking his nails into your flush meat, biting your lips, growling on your mouth. His hands scrunch up your dress, ripping the bloomers under it making you gasp at the feeling of the cold air on your core.

“I can fucking smell you, bonnie. And it's driving me mad. You have been driving me mad for months.” He grunts against your mouth, grabbing your hips to sit you on top of his.

You whine at his words. “I want to feel you, Johnny. I want to feel you here.” You say, grabbing one of his hands to place it on top of your crying cunt.

Johnny takes a deep breath, regulating himself, before he sinks two of his fingers inside of you; the stretch making you mewl against Johnny's neck, moaning softly as he starts to move his wrist.

You can feel him grind his hips against your, the material of his trousers rubbing against your exposed clit making you whine and he quickly shushes you kissing your temple as his fingers open you up for him.

“I can't wait to sink into you, my sweet bonnie.” He groans at you, making you clench at the sound.

He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean, closing his eyes as he hums at the taste. His pupils impossibly wide when he opens them again, the blue on his eyes barely visible.

He helps you onto your hand and knees, standing behind you as he licks your neck from behind, his tip probing at your entrance. You don't have a chance to peek at his shaft, so you don't expect the wide stretch that just simply seems to never end.

Never in your life has you felt this full, the stretch of his fingers far from enough and it has you falling face first with his hands on your hips.

He grunts when he bottoms out inside of you, bending down to lick the tears on your cheeks. “Shh, bonnie lass. You are taking me so well, I could live right here. So tight, so warm, so wet “ he moans, pulling his hips slightly back making you whine as you clench down making him grunt.

It's too much, it is reaching places you were not aware existed; his wide hands on your hips keeping you in place, it has your brain mushy barely able to put your hands under your face to prevent yourself from eating dirt.

His thrust starts to get deeper, slowly pulling out until only his tip is inside just to push in again just as deliciously slow as the first one. It is torturous how slow he fills you up, the empty feeling when he pulls back making you whine and move your hips back.

He pulls himself back, not wanting to give in to his instincts just yet, needing to know you are ready. The way your cunts sucks him in whenever he pulls back making him grunt; he hears you moan his name, asking for more, and that is everything he needs to hear.

He bends down, hugging your middle as he shoves his face on your neck, keeping you in place to be able to piston his dick in and out of your weeping cunt as fast as his hips allow him.

It pulls the breath out of your lungs, only able to moan loud like a whore as the man on your back fucks you like a bitch in heat.

His arms are tight around your body, his grunts and groans loud on your ear and when his hand moves lower, right over your clit rubbing it, is like pushing the button to have you coming undone.

You cry out his name, eyes rolling back as you do, your cunt pulsing around his cock making him fuck you faster.

You don't have time to come back down, not stopping pleasure waving over you. Filth being talked into your brain. “I'm gonna fuck you full of my pups, love. Gonna keep you forever, full of me, love. Gonna make you a mama, round and plush.” He groans, his brain empty of any sense and only listening to his instincts of breeding, the spring making him completely lose his ability to think clearly.

Another round of stretch has you whining softly, you are already to the brim what is it now? You cry at the feeling, Johnny mouth opening over the junction of your neck and shoulder.

His thrust became sloppy, more shallow as if he couldn't move as freely. He bites down hard on your shoulder, making you whine at the pain but the way you clench down on his length as he grunting as he comes inside of you, his hips flush with yours.

You moan at the feeling, warmth feeling every bit of your inside. But after a while you try to pull, wanting to lay down. Just for a stinging sensation to make you cry and Johnny to grab your hips to prevent you from moving.

“Let's stay like this for a little, bonnie. We stuck.” He groans, as if it makes perfect sense.

“What?” You ask confused.

“Shh, I'll explain it to you later, love.” He says, licking your neck like a dog and caressing your body.

And you want to argue, to understand what he means, to understand what is inside of you opening you so widely, to understand why he was talking about pups, to understand why he bite your shoulder so hard, to understand why the wolf following you suddenly disappeared when he appeared, to understand why he told you to go away, to understand how he found you so easily.

But your eyelids start to weigh tons when Johnny hums behind you, kissing your neck. Plus, the spring is barely starting and Johnny's den is close by. He'll explain later, when his brain stops screaming at him to keep breeding you.

[juustokaku]

Confidentiality - Chapter 1. - yandere!ATEEZ OT8 x f!reader

Introduction: Joining a peer support group for mentally ill was a good idea for the last two times you were there. Then it's only natural for the third time to go well too, right?

Pairings: yandere!Hongjoong x reader, yandere!Seonghwa x reader, yandere!Yunho x reader, yandere!Yeosang x reader, yandere!San x reader, yandere!Mingi x reader, yandere!Wooyoung x reader, yandere!Jongho x reader

A/N: This is my first fan fiction I have posted in years! I'm sorry that the beginning might bore you but I'm trying to make the next chapters more interesting. This was more of an introduction than the real story. Also, please, forgive me for my English. It's not exactly immaculate since it isn't my first language. Thank you to everyone who might stumble across this and read!

Word count: 3 207

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The first time you had been shaking in your boots. The next time you had been shaking as much. And now, hopefully for the last time, you were still shaking. 

“What are you doing here? This is private property,” a relatively old lady opened the door you were standing behind and furrowed her thin brows. 

It was winter, and you were cold already, but the chill that ran down your spine at the woman’s words made you almost visibly shudder. Did she not remember you? 

Your hands inside your mittens squeezed into fists. Anxious tears welled up in your eyes. As usual, you couldn’t handle people being angry or even stern at you. 

You would have probably run away in a couple seconds, but the woman smiled at you suddenly and pushed the door wide open. 

“I’m just joking, dear. I remember you.” 

She was supposed to be a mental health professional but still she dared to joke like that while aware of your struggles. You felt a bit irritated but didn’t dare to show it to her. She didn’t mean to scare you. 

As you stepped inside the house your anxiety levels settled down for a moment. You felt a little more comfortable despite the fusty smell. The room was designed to look inviting and homey probably to make the patients relax. It was kind of like visiting a grandma which made you feel nostalgic. 

“I’m glad you decided to join again,” the woman smiled sincerely as you took off your boots and set them neatly on the shoe rack. 

You nodded, “I’m a bit anxious but eager to receive some help again.” 

It was the third time you had joined a peer support group for people who were suffering from mental health problems. The same woman who was in front of you had held it every time. You thought she was some kind of therapist but weren’t sure anymore. It was always hard for you to remember the introductions, because your mind was an anxious mess when meeting new people. 

She led you to the familiar room where all the previous support groups had been held too. 

 10 armchairs were placed in a wide circle. Their colors were restrained and mild so that people who had sensory issues wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. Well, they would probably feel uncomfortable here anyways due to other reasons, but it wouldn’t feel as insufferable as it could if the chairs were all bright, neon version colors of rainbow. 

The lighting was comforting and warm, a stark contrast to the cold lights of a hospital. 

As you were taking in the feelings of the room, the woman started speaking. 

“Uh, I have to tell you something,” she started, sounding apologetic, “All the other group members are new. None of them have been here before.” 

“Oh. Are any of them aggressive?” you asked nervously. 

The information that you hadn’t met any of the other patients stressed you out. What if one of them was aggressive and attacked you? 

“You worry too much, Y/N. They’re as stable and gentle as little lambs.” 

“If they were stable, they wouldn’t be in this group.” 

The woman chuckled a bit, her dimples showing as the corners of her lips rose in amusement. 

“Trust me. Everyone is kind and calm,” the woman assured you. 

Suddenly a man barged in and declared, “I have arrived! Get ready for trouble!”  

Your heart almost stopped and a fight-or-flight response was close to being activated. But after the initial scare he gave you settled down, you stared at the man with surprise and nervousness. 

Despite his attention-demanding entrance, his looks were a little less extra. He was really handsome though. He had black hair and casual clothes but your attention was caught by his mischievous dark brown eyes and a little mole under his eye. 

“What’s your name?” the man noticed your staring and rushed to you before you could run away. 

You barely remembered your name when the man was suddenly in front of you, a bit too close to your liking. Somehow you managed to mutter out your name to him. 

“Ah, Y/N. I’m Wooyoung,” the man introduced himself, “You have beautiful eyes.” 

If you didn’t forget how to speak when Wooyoung asked your name, you definitely did now. How were you supposed to answer when a stranger complimented your eyes out of the blue? 

Wooyoung continued inspecting your face and expressions intently. 

“Thank you... You have very... interesting eyes as well,” you smiled sheepishly. 

“That sounds almost like an insult,” Wooyoung pouted, “Aren’t my eyes beautiful too?” 

Oh no. Did Wooyoung think you didn’t think of his eyes as beautiful? 

“No, no! I mean yes, your eyes are beautiful. I just didn’t want to sound like a creep by complimenting you too much.” 

Wooyoung grinned at you, “Don’t worry. I know what you meant.” 

What was wrong with everyone, joking around like that? You had your first mini heart attack earlier when you thought the woman didn’t recognize you and now Wooyoung made you think you insulted him gravely. 

You took a seat on one of the armchairs. Wooyoung sat down next to you, staying quiet but glancing at you sometimes. Pretty often, to be honest. All of the time, actually. 

The woman started talking with him but you couldn’t focus on listening to their conversation at all. Just fiddling with your fingers nervously as you imagined how the other patients would be like. 

One by one, all of the patients arrived. Two of them were late which irritated you. You just wanted to get this session over with already. 

You didn’t dare to look at anyone but you had noticed to your horror that all of the other patients were men. Maybe they would gang up on you after this session and beat you up. That’s what men did, right? You had read a lot about those kind of things on the internet. 

“Alright kiddos,” the woman started, “My name is Charlotte Abbot, and I welcome you to this peer support group.” 

None of you were “kiddos” anymore but young adults. Charlotte probably just felt a lot older with all those wrinkles on her face. 

She went on and on about how the group works and the importance of confidentiality. A few members of the group didn’t focus at all and were looking around curiously to see who were the people that had joined the group. 

“Who wants to introduce themselves first?” Charlotte asked. 

Wooyoung raised his hand and started talking before Charlotte could give him a permission, “My name is Jung Wooyoung. My favorite color is black. My favorite fruit is strawberry. I like dancing. I like taking photographs. I like cooking. I like-”  

Charlotte interrupted him, “Thank you, Wooyoung. Let’s give everyone a chance to introduce themselves briefly before revealing more.” 

An extraordinarily stylish man raised his hand before he started speaking. 

“I’m Kim Hongjoong. I’m the CEO of my own fashion brand.” 

You almost gasped out loud. No wonder he was so stylish. He looked cool both in appearance and attitude. The look on his face was so focused that you bet he was a hardworking man. 

“My name is Choi San. I am a personal trainer. Nice to meet you all,” a man sitting one seat away from you introduced himself politely. 

You could definitely see that he was a personal trainer. His looks probably distracted all his customers from working out to look at him. 

“Jeong Yunho,” a tall man next to you smiled kindly, “I’m a police officer but I do a lot of volunteering at animal shelters as well.” 

You almost let your heart melt at Yunho’s words but you reminded yourself that he could be lying to make himself look more trustworthy. He could actually be a mastermind criminal who’d lure you into his trap with his promises of playful puppies and cute kittens. 

“Choi Jongho,” another man simply said. 

Everyone waited for him to continue but he stayed silent. 

“That’s it?” Wooyoung asked. 

“Shush, Wooyoung. If Jongho doesn’t want to say anything more yet, he doesn’t have to,” Charlotte reminded gently. 

“Song Mingi. But you can call me Mingi. Or Mingus Dingus,” another tall man chuckled. 

“Mingus... Dingus?” Wooyoung repeated, holding back his laughter. A couple other men in the room snorted too. 

Mingi looked a little offended and explained, “It’s my stage name. I’m a rapper.” 

You wondered what was behind Mingi’s sunglasses. Why did he wear them inside in the first place? Was he trying to hide something else than just his eyes? 

It was clear that none of them were here to hurt you. But all of these new people were making you nervous. No matter how disrespectful of you was it to suspect everyone, you couldn’t help yourself. 

“My name is Park Seonghwa. I like Legos and Star Wars,” a strikingly handsome man smiled sheepishly. 

His interests surprised you with their innocence. One would expect that an adult man with those godly looks would be partying and sleeping with models instead of nerding away with Legos and Star Wars. It was adorable though and made you feel ever so slightly more at ease with him. 

Silence filled the room as everyone was waiting for the next person to introduce themselves. Only the ticking of the clock on the wall could be heard. The silence felt uncomfortably long and you started wondering why no-one spoke. 

“Could any of you two introduce yourself?” Charlotte’s voice caught your attention. 

You almost wanted to cry out of embarrassment as you realized you were one of the two who were left, and you had been just sitting there like a fool. It shouldn’t be such a big deal but your ears flushed red nonetheless. 

There was a man who hadn’t introduced himself yet either. His gaze was turned to the floor. As if that wasn’t enough of a sign to tell he was uncomfortable, his body was tense and hands wrapped in front of his stomach as if to protect himself. 

“I’m Y/N. I like...” you paused. Someone could be here to gather information about you or use your information against you in the future. You couldn’t tell them anything too personal. 

“I like dogs,” you finally said. Damn it, that was too personal! Now that psycho police officer could lure you into a dog shelter and torture puppies in front of you just to make you suffer. 

Speak of the devil, Yunho smiled at you, “I like dogs too.” 

You fought the urge to scream and run away. His smile was charming but that was expected from a psychopath. Those kinds of people were good at manipulating. You had read a lot of books about it in order to protect yourself better. 

Nonetheless, you still smiled back nervously. 

“What’s your last name?” San asked. 

To be truthful or not to be: that is the question. You had purposefully left that part out of your introduction because you didn’t want to tell them your last name. What would anyone even do with that information? 

“Brokelsony,” you answered. 

Wooyoung snorted, “That’s not a real name, doofus. You just made that up, didn’t you?” 

You got caught. Your days were numbered now. How could you ever come back after everyone knew you lied to them?  

The way your eyes widened and you clutched the arms of the chair confirmed everyone that you lied. Liar, liar, pants on fire. Except you wanted your whole body to burn, not just your pants. 

“Come on, what’s your real last name?” Mingi insisted. 

Wooyoung joined in with a louder voice, “Yeah, we told our last names too!” 

“What are you so afraid of?” 

You were stressing out, gasping for air and digging for some explanation for your lie but you couldn’t think. All the noise and pressure made you dizzy. 

Suddenly Jongho chimed in, “You two chose to tell your full names out of your own will. It’s not an obligation to reveal your last name, so leave her be.” 

Everyone was shocked more or less. Jongho, who had been so quiet otherwise, had spoken up and defended you. 

He could have been embarrassed or regretful to have all the attention directed to him now but there were no emotions on his face. Only unwavering tranquility was like painted on his whole body. 

You couldn’t have been any more grateful to Jongho for the shift of attention and for being the voice of reason. The least you could do was to send him an appreciative smile so you did that. 

He did not respond to the smile. 

You really hated this day. Being embarrassed wasn’t an unknown experience to you but this felt just straight up humiliating. 

“Well, we have our one last patient. Would you introduce yourself?” Charlotte asked gently. 

It was definitely not a nice feeling for him to be the last one and have all the attention on him, you thought as you looked at the last man left. 

After a few moments he raised his gaze from the floor... only to look at his hands. At least you could see his beautiful face and birth mark a bit better now. 

“Yeosang,” the man spoke. 

Yeosang sounded almost apologetic like he was sorry that he was supposedly wasting everyone’s time by telling his name. You really felt for him. 

“Look what you did, Y/N. He learned not to tell his last name either because of you,” Wooyoung chuckled and received a scolding look from Charlotte in response. 

Charlotte looked around the room, probably taking in everyone’s names, and nodded. 

“You all have different issues like all people do. Even though some of you may have similar experiences or diagnoses, don’t forget that you have your own story to share, no matter how insignificant it may seem.” 

A few people nodded, acknowledging her words. You did too although you did not agree with her statement. 

Your story wasn’t meant to be shared. There wasn’t even anything to share. That’s what you wanted to believe at least. That you were completely healthy and normal, and that nothing bad had ever happened to you. 

“During next week we’ll start opening up more but today it’s time for something more exciting...” Charlotte smiled mysteriously, “Get into groups of three.” 

What was this? A pre-school? You did not want to talk to anyone. This was supposed to be a form of therapy not a blind date! 

You felt your palms sweat in nervousness. Who would you want to be in a group with? Or a better question, who would want to be in a group with you?  

The stress of realizing that probably no-one would agree to be with you made your chest tighten up. You cursed Charlotte in your mind for causing this. 

Every second felt excruciatingly slow but fast at the same time as you saw Hongjoong and Seonghwa already forming a group. You would be the last one left. No-one would let you into their group willingly. 

“Do you want to be in my group?” someone behind you asked like an angel who descended from Heaven to save you from the fate of being left out. 

Once you turned around, you froze. It was the Devil instead. 

Yunho stood there, towering over you, with that smile on his handsome face again. It was suspicious how kind he was.  

“Sure,” you nodded despite your head screaming at you not to. Carefully inspecting his expressions and movements, you decided he would be trustworthy enough now that there were other people in the room with you.  

“Awesome! Let’s go find another groupmate,” Yunho gestured you to follow him. 

So, you did follow him as he walked towards Yeosang who was standing by the wall, looking clueless and lost. 

You felt grateful that Yunho had chosen Yeosang out of everyone left because he seemed like the least aggressive person there. His arms were muscular but you wanted to believe he wouldn’t use them for anything else than carrying heavy grocery bags for old ladies. 

“Yeosang, do you want to join-” Yunho started but got interrupted by Jongho who had appeared behind you two. 

“Y/N. Join my group.” 

It was enough of a shock already to have Yunho ask you to be in his group, but now that Jongho wanted you in his group as well, you felt lost. 

You probably looked stupid as you were glancing between Yunho and Jongho, trying to figure out the situation, lips slightly apart. 

“No can do, dude. She’s mine... my groupmate, I mean,” Yunho crossed his arms. 

Even Yeosang raised his head to look at the scene with you as Yunho and Jongho started disputing. 

“Although you like dogs, you don’t have to treat her as one,” the shorter man sneered, “You’re not her owner, cop.” 

Yunho furrowed his brows. You thought of him as scary even when he smiled, but now that you saw him getting irritated, you felt horrified. What if he had a gun with him? He was a police officer after all. 

“I didn’t mean it that way. I just want you to find your own groupmates instead of stealing mine.” 

“Why are you so keen on keeping her?” Jongho raised a brow. 

“Why are you so keen on stealing her away from me?”  

Yunho’s question was just the right one to make Jongho silent. 

A slightly irritated expression crossed Jongho’s face but he just shrugged and said, “Don’t ask me.” 

“Who else should I ask then?” Yunho asked, confusion mixed with annoyance in his voice, but he received no response as Jongho just walked away. 

You watched Yunho’s expression from the side while he was still distracted by his own thoughts and emotions. 

His lips were pressed together tightly and ears bright red. It was clear he tried to control himself and his reactions, but you weren’t convinced by his act at all. 

You got to see him properly only when he swiftly turned around to face you. He did not touch you, thank God, but you were still terrified when you saw the look in his brown eyes. The same, usual smile was on his lips as he looked down at you but it was still vastly different. His eyes weren’t warm. His eyes were burning hot, full of fierce fire he had been hiding under the facade of a kind police officer who loved helping animals, and who knows what other lies he had come up with. 

His body towered over yours as he looked at with those eyes that made you want to curl up into a small ball and defend yourself like a hedgehog. 

But you weren’t a hedgehog and you couldn’t push out spikes to protect yourself as Yunho leaned closer. 

“I’m glad you didn’t run off with Jongho,” he chuckled. 

In the blink of an eye his expression was back to that weirdly cheerful one, as if you had imagined everything. 

Everyone was horrible. You were scared and worried. But you should have expected something like this already, you thought to yourself. 

After all it was just like you told Charlotte: if they were stable, they wouldn’t be in this group. 

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Chapter 2. ->

Masterlist

[toon-tales]

Hiya! Ok, so, I'm here to analyze, again. But! Not a scene. I'm here to analyze the evolution of the one and only #Broppy, from the first movie. I've been planning to include the three movies and the holiday specials, but I figured I can't add that many pics in one post. I can only add ten, soooo-

Let's take it from the beginning: the first appearance for Branch.

If you ask me, he was being rude, maybe even embarrassed Poppy in front of everyone. Yeah, I love Branch, and he's my baby and all, but dude, you shouldn't have done that, especially not in front of everyone. Like, yeah, we later know his backstory and his grandma and his brothers, but still, it's not Poppy's fault, he shouldn't have treated her like this. Sure, her believing life was all cupcakes and rainbows might have been provoking to Branch, but he's still at fault, and I think more people need to make peace with that.

Also, something I noticed, is that Branch and Poppy were close even before the events of the first movie, cause, literally everyone calls her 'Princess Poppy', except the snack pack. They just call her Poppy, and the fact that Branch also calls her Poppy just proves they were close.

Now, later, we see Branch holding Poppy's scrapbook, then staring at even more scrapbooks on the shelves. Like, cute, sure, but it's not what you feel, it's what you show, Branch.

Okay, now, this scene:

The fact that Poppy was knocking on the rock just means she never got into Branch's bunker before. But she knows the address, so that counts. Maybe he had given it to her when they first met in case she needed something after he'd found her hurt with a broken arm or something then they became friends- I'm totally drifting from the post. Sorry about that.

Now, there are two theories:

Annnywayyyy, let's focus on the scene after:

"Which is why I have to ask you..." she hesitated, before continuing, "will you go to Bergen town with me and save everyone?"

She hesitated! She freaking hesitated! Meaning? She probably never asked Branch to help her before. She surely had problems in her life, but she also had her friends, so I belive she always went to them whenever she was in trouble. But now those friends aren't here, which forces her to ask the person who she trusts the most after them. Branch. And, disappointedly, he refuses, because of the fear he's living in.

Moments later, Poppy surprisingly invites the entire village to Branch's bunker to keep them safe. Which was wrong of her. True, she was trying to protect everyone, but using Branch's house without his consent was wrong. Sorry. Sure, it was the safest place for now, but that still doesn't justify it. You can see he was clearly annoyed (which she loved). But I don't really blame her, just like I don't really blame Branch. They both did wrong.

Skip, skip, skip, skip, skip- hold... rightttt here:

Ah, yes. That scene. Now, look. He showed up, because he knew there was no way Poppy could do this by herself, and he wasn't wrong. Poppy, in return, also knew he would come, because it was the third hug time by then.

"I guess we were both right." That line. It speaks volumes for their relationship, yet no one talks about it! They both look at things from different perspectives, BUT, it doesn't mean either of them is wrong.

Like when they arrived at the troll tree: "The troll tree." "Bergen town."

Or when they found out the others were still alive: "They're alive?" "And on a silver platter too. We were both right."

Please writers and artists, we need more content with this line. Add it to your fanfics/art!

Skip, skip, another skip (yes, I skipped the part where Branch tries to avoid talking about his feelings cause it's kinda... i don't know, i just don't know what to say about it. It's sorta obvious), skiiiiiip, annnndddd, right here:

THEIR. FIRST. HUG.

My babies, oh my sweet precious babies. They've been through so much together, and finally, Branch has found it in himself to actually open up about his past (mostly).

I've spoken about this scene in more details in this post.

Now, we're going to talk about one of the most important scenes in the history of Broppy. This:

Branch is talking. He's always used to being in the shadows, never helping anyone, and here he was, helping a Bergen. If that's not a big change, I don't know what is.

And let me tell you, not only Branch was changing in this scene. See Poppy?

She's learning to look deeper into things, even persons. She's finally realizing that Branch, the grumpy, sarcastic troll, might not be as bad as she thought. They're both developing.

Until the rules are swapped.

Branch is the one to find the bright side, and Poppy is the one to cover it. And you can see how disappointed he is.

"I can't wait to see the look on your face when you realize the world isn't all cupcakes and rainbows." But when it happened, Branch realized that this wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want her to be like him, because this was him - a person who doesn't see the cupcakes and rainbows in life, not even in the slightest.

The way he was trying to cheer her up

And the way she actually smiled. Poppy was still there, her happiness was inside, not gone but hidden, and Branch was trying to find it again.

Yet she didn't even notice her own colors returning. Maybe because she was focused on the change in Branch? She wasn't startled when he sang at first, she wasn't happy, just like he used to be. He didn't use to care, until later, when his feelings began to resurface again, because Poppy helped him. Just like he was doing now. Neither did he notice his colors coming back

Aaaaaand, I think the rest doesn't really need analyzing.

Feel free to add or comment on anything.

Part two

Part three

[tiredfox64]

Hello, good afternoon, it's my first time doing this XD could you make a gn!lector x trio lin kuei? the brothers showing affection to the reader in their different love languages

Love is Many Things

Prior notes: I did headcanon type of way cause that was just simpler for me to do :P. Hope this is okay for you!

Pairings: Lin Kuei Bros x Gn reader

Warnings ‼️: None now stop contacting me about financial aid!

Bi-Han

Hear me out ladies, gents, and non binaries.

Physical affection!

If he loves you he will be touchy and you better be touchy as well.

He is a touch starved fella you need to at least hold his face.

He will hold you but that is also out of possession.

Sit on his lap, go ahead, don’t be shy.

Fine he’ll drag you on. Don’t tell him you are too heavy he doesn’t want to hear it.

Hugging you from behind while he rest his head on your shoulders, classic move.

He pinches. Yeah…what do you mean what do I mean?

If there is any part of you that is squishy (cheeks, thigh, arm) he pinches it but not on purpose. It’s in the manner like a grandma coming to squeeze your face but she does it too harshly.

Cuddles in bed, no you may not leave. Unless you are bleeding or need to use the bathroom then you can leave.

If he is holding your hand he will start to lightly rub his thumb over your hand.

He’s a man of action not words so take his lovin in physical form.

Kuai Liang

Words of affirmation!

I have a feeling sometimes he is poetic with his words.

Whispers in your ear as you fall asleep. Tell you how fantastic you are and how lucky he is to have you in his life.

“Death can never separate us. You are mine and I am yours. We are eternally together. It is our destiny.”

If he is far from you he will send letters.

I just know he has decent cursive. Not good just decent.

Compliments you on everything.

He will always find a way to compliment your looks. It could be something simple like your hair is glorious to your eyebrows are well kept.

If you have any skills he will compliment that to.

He encourages anything and everything you do. Go into a hobby that may seem strange to him but if it makes you happy go right ahead.

He is always willing to talk to you whether it be an issue in the relationship or just something you want to say that seems important.

Communication is key he makes that a big point. Tell him if there is anything wrong. He will tell you if something is wrong.

You will have a personalized nickname that fits you. You feisty? Fire lily! You happy? Sunflower! You angry? Ember! He will always add ‘his’ before it.

Tomas

Gift Giving!

We don’t know where he gets the money to purchase everything for you, he might be stealing.

It starts off simple with giving you a smooth rock like a penguin does.

It elevates to bouquets, crystals, food, etc.

The max is when he is buying you everything you love or even take a glance at.

Oh so you like Hello Kitty? BAM! Hawaiian Hello Kitty plushie the size of your bed. A Lego fan huh? BOOM! Millennium falcon set.

It’s easier to accept it because if you don’t he gives you that sad face that crushes your soul.

He will bring you something back from whatever mission he is on. Again that could be a smooth stone or a vintage watch. Whatever he can scavenge for.

He always has this wide grin on his face when he hands you a gift or when he tries to hide it behind his back.

Sorry not sorry you’re gaining relationship weight because he keeps buying you food.

He likes buying you clothes. Some of his choice seems to be more for him than you wink wink nudge nudge.

He’ll be asking you nonstop if you need something so he can buy it for you.

“I saw it and thought of you.” That’s the best thing to hear.

All of em

I’m not done yet.

Ooo someone stop me I never stop with having all of them.

As a combined effort they do acts of service.

Of course they are going to protect their precious partner. If someone even scratched you they would be in a ditch.

Heaven forbid you get sick, they gonna take care of you in every way they can. You need some Vic’s vaporub?

You tired after the long day? Let them draw you a bath and get you some nice clothes before putting you to bed.

They’ll cook for you. Well, Kuai Liang and Tomas will. Bi-Han got agitated one time cause he burned his finger on the handle and ended up throwing the pan out the window. Never again.

Surprise dates! Yippie!

Sigh I’m involving children again.

They are all helping out with the kids. It’s okay to take a shower they will watch over them.

I’m counting a group cuddle as an act of service. It would be service to me.

After notes: I think I might post my oc real soon. I know I’ve done it before and I end up deleting it but I’ll try to keep it up next time. Now I need to shower. Adiós!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: Andrew keeping us angry this fine friday

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

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You leave your headphones around your neck and tuck your phone into your pocket. You focus on the simple steps of loading the coffee machine as your grandmother mutters and shuffles away. You can hear her harrumph as she goes into the front room and the groan of her chair as she sits heavily.

The scratch of dry pages sounds as she gives no acknowledgement to the intruder. You stop in the archway as a chill runs through you. You’re sick to your stomach. The walls are closing in. They always feel a bit tight, suffocating even, but you’re really trapped. He’s not going to stop. He’s showing you just that. 

You make yourself keep going. You come out into the front room. Andy stands by the bay window, looking out onto the unmowed lawn. His shoulders are straight even as he has his hands in his pockets. He wears a pair of sleek pants and a powder blue button-up with short sleeves. He looks as put together as ever, definitely out of place in your grandmother’s cramped house. 

“Coffee on,” you croak to your grandma and Andy turns, his lips twitching as his cheek dimples, “can we talk outside?” 

He tilts his head, “sure,” he accepts, “Cassie,” he nods at your grandma as he struts across the room, “sorry for disturbing you. You have a lovely home.” 

Your grandmother rocks the chair and looks up at him. There’s an arch in her brow that isn’t entirely bothered, “thank you, Andrew? Was it?” 

“Andy,” he grins. 

“Hm,” she grumbles and narrows her eyes, “sorry to hear about your kid.” 

“Thanks,” his voice falters, “getting through.” 

He nears and you quickly turn away, keeping your distance from him as he follows you the door. You can barely get it open before he catches up. He holds the door above your head as he trails you outside and you stumble down the step. You spin to face him, crossing your arms as you maintain a wide breadth from him. He stops on the bottom stair and watches you. 

“Why are you doing this?” You ask crisply. 

“I’m trying to help you.” 

“I don’t need help--” 

“You sure about that?” He challenges swiftly. 

You wince and look away. You’re embarrassed. You never invited friends over because they weren’t welcome. Even Kara only ever saw the outside of your grandma’s house and you never told her about the nasty remarks or the boiling silences that had you fleeing like a frog from hot water. 

You swallow and purse your lips tightly, “I’m sure. I’m just fine.” 

“Can’t be easy, living like that,” he remarks. 

“Stop,” you keep your gaze averted. 

“Not just the peeling walls and whatever, but her, she’s not very nice, is she?” 

“I told you to stop,” you snap at him, facing him, “you do not know me or my life.” 

“You’re the one closing me out,” he accuses, “honey, please, I want to know. Has anyone else even asked? Checked in?” 

“I have friends--” 

“Yeah, but they got their own live, don’t they? Like, what’s her name, Kayla?” He puts a hand up, then snaps his fingers, “Kara, yeah, that’s it. Sure, you had your day out but what’s she doing for you now? Miles away.” 

“I’ll figure it out. I am,” you sniff, “it’s not your business, Andy.” 

“You know, making yourself suffer isn’t some great show of honour, right? You’re just spitting in the face of the escape you’ve been hoping for--” 

“No, not with you,” you sneer. 

“How do you know that? Why can’t it be me?” 

“You know--” 

“I know, I lied. I hurt you. I’ve apologised over and over and I’ll keep doing that as long as I need to. Honey, let me ask you, when has anyone ever said sorry to you? When have they ever cared about your feelings? About your forgiveness?” He cranes to look at the house then back to you, “did your parents ever say sorry for leaving you here? Does your grandma ever say sorry for insulting you? How about Kara? Does she ever apologise for ignoring you for that skinny kid she’s got nipping at her heels?” 

“How do you know that?” You exclaim, “what-- why--” you can barely speak as your head reels. You don’t understand how he knows about Kara or how he found you or why he just won’t give up. “Andy, I—you can’t replace Jacob, alright? I don’t want anything from you. I can’t-- I can’t take it. Alright? It’s not right.” 

“I’m not trying to replace him, he’s gone,” Andy drops his shoulders and steps onto even ground, “I’m trying to start over and I’m offering you the same thing. You don’t have to stay in this shit hole. You don’t have to wallow like this. I could get you into a better school. I can make a few calls, get you in at UMass or Boston, close to me--” 

“What the fuck?” You burst out, “what-- no. No. You’re... you... I don’t want that.” 

He’s quiet. His brows knit as he stops just a step away, “why not?” 

You stare at him, stunned. You should want it, shouldn’t you? To get out? To have better? Opportunity doesn’t knock on your door every day but this is not that. This is strange. He hasn’t said so but you know there’s more than just generosity at play. More than a mourning father trying to do good. 

“Because I don’t want to be anyone’s burden. So no thank you. I am not interested in whatever you’re offering. I can’t trust you. Everything between us is based on a lie,” you say, “you need to understand that and move on.” 

He stares at you. His blue eyes search your defiant face and he blows out slowly through his nose. He pushes his shoulders back and stands at his full height. 

“No, you don’t understand,” his face darkens and you back up, “you don’t understand everything I can give you. Everything I could do for you. You don’t get it. You’re young and you have no idea because you’ve never had any of those things.” He steps closer as you inch away, “but what you really don’t understand is what I can take away from you.” His lashes flick down and he sighs, “I didn’t want it to be like this but it’s the only way to make you see.” 

“What do you mean?” You utter. 

He smiles, not a real smile, a wry, almost mournful smile. He shrugs and you flinch as he sidesteps you. You keep out of his way as he strides down the walkway and you turn to watch his back. He stops at the end and peeks back, “you and me, we were meant to be together. Can’t you see that? It wasn’t chance, it’s fate.” 

He puts his back to you once more and struts to his silver SUV. You stay as you are, trapped in everything he said and didn’t. He’s not done and there’s nothing you can say or do to stop him.  

Or maybe it’s not you who needs to stop him. 

🎮

It isn’t your first time in a precinct. You have vague memories of similar scenes from your childhood; some faded by the years, others out of pain. As you pass through the doors, doubt stops you in your tracks. How many times did they send you home with your mother still reeking of alcohol or let your father out still in one of his rages? 

It’s been a long time and the world is different. Isn’t it? Besides, you’re an adult now. You have a voice. You better start using it. 

You approach the desk where a man in uniform sits behind thick plexiglass. You cough to get his attention and bounce nervously on the balls of your feet. You can’t think how to begin so you just start talking. 

“Uh, hi, um, I think I need to file a police report?” You say. 

He looks at you dully, “for what?” 

“Well, er, I... don’t know what it would be technically called, I guess. But, this guy, uh, a man... he won’t leave me alone.” 

The officer scoffs, “really? You young ones...” 

“It’s not... I don’t know him, sir, so--” 

“Let me guess? He whistled at you on the street? Or maybe he offered to buy you a drink?” He narrows his eyes. 

“No, sir. He’s been following me. He showed up at my work and my house and I told him to go but he... won’t.” 

He rolls his eyes but grabs a piece of paper. He shakes his head and slides it under the slot, “fine, fill it out. We’ll put the incident on file. Unfortunately, we don’t lay charges for being social.” 

Great. So you were wrong. Again. And why would they take you seriously? No one ever does. 

You sit and fill out the form. Your info, Andy’s info, and a written recount of each incident. You think you have the dates right. You bring it back to the desk. 

“I have texts too, if that helps.” 

“Nah,” he takes the form as you push it through, “not like you’re going to court.” 

You grimace. You hate being talked to like you’re stupid, you’d rather be ignored. 

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you grumble. 

“Hold up,” he says, “gotta do a quick check before we file this.” 

He types into his computer. He looks between the paper and the screen. You wait. What a waste of time. Now you’re sure he’s just trying to make you look stupid. 

“Where is this Andrew Barber from? He’s not in the local records.” 

“I don’t... know,” you blink. He said something about Boston U? “Massachussetts, maybe? I think he’s a lawyer.” 

“Pretty common name...” he mutters as he hits several keys, “hmm, let’s see. Lawyer... sure, makes sense—ha, assistant DA? All the way down here?” He looks at you, “alright, honey, why don’t you go have more fun on Google?” 

“No, it’s not--” 

“You know it’s obstruction to file a false report,” he says. 

“No, it’s true. I told you, I have messages--” 

“So you don’t know him but you’re texting him?” He challenges, “I’m advising you to leave right now before I book you for wasting my time.” 

You exhale and shake your head, dropping your shoulders as you turn. You drag your feet across the gray tile and to the door. So much for trying. Just like everything else, it’s a lost cause. You’re starting to believe Andy. He might be your only chance. You really are that pathetic. 

No, you won’t give in. You might not have had much in life. Maybe not a nice house or a good family or even done anything great but you’re still your own person. You’re working towards that. You’re going to school, you’re making minimum wage, you’re doing what you have. It’s a means to an end. Andy can’t be that end. 

You don’t know what to do. It’s not like you can ask your grandma. She’d never listen long enough to understand and even if she did, would she care? 

You wander down the street and sit on a bench, numb as you try to think of something. You clutch your phone and look down at the screen. You have one lifeline left but is it too much to ask? You unlock the phone and find Kara’s name. 

You hit the call button and raise the phone to your ear. Maybe she knows what to do. She always had boy troubles; you remember when Michael had a crush on her in grade eleven. 

“Heya! How are ya, girl?” She answers with a giggle. 

“Kara, I’m...” you search the street and your eyes water, “not good.” 

“Oh,” her tone falls, “oh, is everything okay?” 

“No.” 

“What’s going on? Are you hurt? Is your grandma okay?” She hushes someone and you hear rustling as she moves on the other end. 

“Kara, you remember that boy I met online. The one I was supposed to meet?” 

“Yeah, the one that stood you up.” 

“It wasn’t a boy. I mean. It wasn’t who I thought it was...” it all comes tumbling out before you can stop yourself, “it was his dad.” 

“What?” She nearly shrieks, “ew. Oh my god, what the fuck?” 

“Yeah, and he...” you see a silver SUV and your words crackle. The window rolls down as the car slows and Andy peers out at you. 

He knows Kara. He saw her at the con and somehow he learned more about her. How did he do that? Obviously, he has connections. Far above you. And her. If he can find out who she is, where you are, what else can he do? 

You’ve already told her too much. 

“Sorry, Kar, I gotta go--” 

“Wait, wait, wait, you can’t drop that on me and just bail,” Kara squeals. 

“I’m sorry, I just... I’ll call you back.” 

You hang up and lower the phone. You stare at Andy as he parks and gets out of the car. He shuts the door and crosses the pavement, turning to sit beside you. He peers around casually. 

“So, should I expect a visit from the police?” He asks. 

You sit back and scoff, “whatever, dude.” 

“I got a lot of buddies on the force. They don’t mess with DA’s, even out of district. If you gave me a chance, you’d know these things about me.” 

You don’t say anything. He’s not listening and he’s not going to. You should be used to that. 

“So, do we keep going?” He asks. 

You slide to the edge of the bench. You don’t look at him. You just walk away. He’s your problem. You can’t make him Kara’s too. Not when he’s showing you exactly how far he’ll go. 

[whositmcwhatsit]

Enjoyable Slide to Oblivion

Chapter 14: Never is the Echo of Forever

AN: I am so sorry to anyone who has been waiting for this. It has been a million years and I have no excuses except life. I am back in my happy place now (excessive dysfunctional daydreaming about a lifelong obsession) and I'm pretty sure that will mean more regular updates. Thank you to anyone who still cares. I appreciate you!

Cast your mind back to the distant, ancient days of Chapter 13

Never is the echo of forever- 1956

The house was in a state of muted chaos. Elvis had got home late the night before and, after presenting his mother with his laundry, acting the fool, devouring all the food as fast as they could make it, and declaring himself not at all tired and wanting to go out, he had then crashed flat out and been sleeping ever since. They were tiptoeing around, but it didn’t look like anything short of a car crashing through his bedroom was going to wake him.

“He’s just run himself ragged,” Mrs Presley muttered as Chancy wandered into the kitchen. “You know what he’s like about sleepin’ when he’s home. Lord knows what he gets up to when no one’s watchin’ out for him.” She paused for a moment and put hand on her head like she was holding in her fear and worry.

“He’s got lots of people watching over him. There’s Red, Gene and Junior, and that Colonel is always watching him.”

Chancy couldn’t help the grumbling tone in her voice. That man had infiltrated every aspect of Elvis’ life and his presence could be felt all the time, even when his name was not spoken. Elvis himself reinforced it, reminding them that they wouldn’t have what they had now if it wasn’t for the Colonel.

“I mean someone who knows what he’s like and what he needs. Give him half a moment and he’ll be talking those boys into doing something foolish. And don’t get me started on that Colonel…”

Chancy didn’t like to see Mrs Presley upset, but it was nice to see a little excitement in her. She had been quiet and a little blue like a dull overcast day. When Elvis was gone doing his shows and venturing further and further to places like New York, Las Vegas and Hollywood, it was like all the fire in the house was banked down to barely warm ash. They all just waited for a focus and a purpose again.

As if he could sense the need for him, Elvis appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. His head was tilted back, and he squinted through barely opened lids. There was a crease down his cheek from the pillow she had left him buried in. 

“What’s all the fussin’ about?” he mumbled, stumbling over to the counter and giving his mother a kiss on the cheek. “I thought someone was getting killed in here with all this carrying on.”

“Oh hush up, you,” Mrs Presley retorted, giving him a smack across his bare shoulder as he snickered and scooted out of her reach. “What d’you think, Cha-Cha, sounds like someone don’t want breakfast today, huh?”

Elvis pouted at Chancy as he moved across to her and draped himself over her back.

“Yep, that’s what it sounded like to me too,” Chancy agreed, giggling as he moaned and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“Aw, have a heart!” he whined. “I ain’t had nothing worth eating in weeks!” He started gnawing on Chancy’s shoulder, which was funny until she started to feel teeth through her blouse.

“Ow, quit it!” she cried, pinching him on the side. He grabbed her in a bear hug, pinning her arms to her sides and squeezing the breath out of her.

“Elvis, you stop that! You’ll hurt her! She’s only a teeny tiny thing!” Mrs Presley swatted at him and he held out his arms in submission, giving Chancy time to dart out of the kitchen. She swung a left into the living room, but Grandma Minnie was in there and looked up a little alarmed as she came barrelling in. Turning, she lost valuable time and crashed into Elvis’ chest, sending them both into the wood paneled wall of the hallway.

“Aw he- heck,” he groaned, not so hurt that he forgot to fear the wrath of his mother if he cursed. 

“Aw, poor baby,” Chancy murmured. “Let me look, baby, let me look.” 

Pouting, he let her coo over the red mark on his shoulder, only for her to promptly take a sharp nip with her teeth and run off again.

“Daddy, stop her! Get her!” Vernon smiled tightly, but stepped aside as Chancy ducked past him in the dark hallway and headed for the bedroom. Having trapped herself in a corner, she snatched up one of the teddy bears and held it in front of her like a shield. 

“Uh uh, he can’t help you now,” Elvis warned, feinting a move to the left that had her skirting the bed and cowering in the corner. He snatched the bear from her hands and launched it across the room with a punch. “Get lost, you SOB, trying to move in on my girl.” 

“I'm not your girl,” she reminded him, “I’m the ‘daughter of a family friend’.” He rolled his eyes and grabbed her by the chin, pulling her forward until their foreheads were pressed hard together and she couldn’t focus without going cross-eyed.

“Honey, if I got mad every time some reporter called me something in the press I wouldn’t have time for nothing else. We just gotta roll with the punches, you know.” 

“They called all of those showgirls in Las Vegas your dates,” she mumbled, trying not to smile as he pursed his lips so that they kissed as she spoke. 

“Hell, just goes to show they don’t know what they’re talking about.” He smirked and she knew he would have an answer for everything. He had clearly prepared, but then, all those evenings at home watching ‘What’s my Line’ and ‘I Love Lucy’ with his folks had given her plenty of time to do the same. 

“You mean when they called that other girl, the rich one, just your friend?” He pulled back with a look of distaste, which she knew meant that he was getting annoyed. 

“Now, you’re just trying to trick me, nagging away ‘til I say something wrong because you got me tied up in knots. You know, you know I hate that, honey, it’ll just end up with us both mad. Can’t you just let me enjoy being home?” 

“Home? Can it be home when you’re hardly ever here?” 

The fury in Elvis’ eyes when he lost his temper was not hot, but bitter cold, creating a thick, impenetrable wall of ice between them. Chancy wanted to hold back her words, but they kept spilling out of her like water, like the stinging tears she had fought against when she saw all the photos in the magazines of Elvis with his arms around showgirls or play fighting with that rich heiress, while she was shut away in this dormant house doing her homework. 

The slam of the bedroom door behind him made her flinch, but otherwise the pervading chill that had begun in his eyes set into her bones too and she was motionless as she stared off into absolutely nothing. 

A little while later, he came back into the room presumably to dress after breakfast. She didn’t move, couldn’t move, aware of him only as a blur against the pink flowery wallpaper. Finally, with a sigh, he dropped onto the bed just behind her and pushed his face against her shoulder. The skin where his mouth was pressed was the hottest part of her, the only part that didn’t feel like a stone statue.

“You know that whole stretch in Vegas was a drag for me. Like playing in a graveyard with all those old bones and jewelry. And just about everybody saying the boy’s crashin’ and burnin’, predicting it’s all going down in flames. S’what they all want, you know, for me to be this gimmick, this flash in the pan that fizzles out. A- a- and maybe I needed some distraction. I had to look like I was having fun, see, like it didn’t bother me none what was happenin’. Those girls out there are wise, they’re working girls- I- I mean, they have careers and everything, and they know it’s good for business to be in the papers. S’all it was, honey, really.” He turned his face, his nose grazing the crook of her neck and he shifted so that he could tuck his face in there, breathing heavily so that she had no choice but to wriggle. 

“But it ain’t nice, what you said,” he mumbled quickly, once she had writhed and was facing him, “about this not being home. This is about all I’m working for, doing right by Mama and Daddy, taking care of everyone, and you. You know that.”

“I didn’t mean this ain’t your home,” she returned mulishly in a low voice. “Of course it is. I just-” She exhaled in frustration. “I just miss you, is all.” 

“Don’t much seem like it,” he sighed, dropping back onto the bed. “You been mean and moody with me since I got back.” She tightened up, drawing up to retaliate with her own accusation, but the truth in his words poked a hole in her inflated self-righteousness. How could she blame him for being away so much when she seemed to be making sure that being at home was as unpleasant as possible?

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, letting it rush out of her before her defensive mind could stop it. 

“Nope, it’s not enough,” he replied in a deep voice. “Show me.” She hesitated, confused, but in tune enough with him that her cheeks started to feel very hot. He lazily grabbed her fingers with his, tugging her forward a little. “Show me how much you missed me, Cha Cha.” 

Chancy glanced around at the shady interior of the bedroom. They had to keep the shades down all the time when Elvis was home otherwise the windows became a nightmarish mush of faces pressed up against the glass. Normally, the room was kept immaculate, but Elvis' late night arrival had caused an explosion with the bedroom as ground zero. She stared at his white buck shoe upended on the other single bed, which was otherwise made up, a stark and careless admission that they were not sleeping in separate beds like everyone tried to pretend. 

“I-” Her nervous expression faded into embarrassed annoyance as he snorted and laughed that irrepressible belly laugh, hand covering his face. She felt the blush spread down from her hairline and tried to snatch away from his loose grip, which abruptly tightened. 

“Aw no, come here, c’mon, little baby. Things I gotta do to get a handle on you, I tell ya.” His arms slid around her back and he drew her down onto him, overcoming all her resistance. They kissed lazily, lips brushing and grazing against each other, which felt decadent in the middle of the day with the family just outside the door and probably fans on the other side of the wall. 

It was times like these that she knew that the reports in the magazines and newspapers were not true. They couldn’t be. No one could experience this, be part of this, and risk it. 

Chancy thought about the boys at school, the older college boys and the men from the naval base that some of her friends dated. She couldn’t even imagine feeling the same way with one of them, that hot, intense drag that pulled from her stomach and surely joined some way with him. 

Laying on top of him, smelling his still drying cologne and his hair oil, and marveling at the way the light made his long, fair, natural lashes seem translucent, she felt encased in a hot, airless box of certainty. This was what she was intended for; all her life until now a pathway to this destination. Showgirls be damned. 

“Now, don’t you feel better?” He tapped her lightly on the nose, followed by wiggling and playing her butt like bongos. “Tell you what, why don’t you go put on a little make-up and we’ll go out and see some folks. I wanna visit with Mr Phillips and say hi to ole Dewey… ”

“But I’m… I am wearing make-up,” she said in a small voice. 

“Oh… I guess I just got used to how it is out in Vegas… Boy, those girls were done up all day long.” He whistled. “Some of ‘em looked like movie stars just taking out the garbage.” He cupped his hand around her face and squinted appraisingly. “You’re so pretty that you’d blow ‘em out of the water with a little more war paint, honey, damn the torpedoes.”

Fighting embarrassment, hurt and amusement, she shook her head, which was still being clutched by his fingers. 

“I sometimes think even you don’t know what you’re saying half the time,” she remarked. 

“But you always understand me,” he pointed out smugly, poking out his tongue and raising his eyebrows. 

“I don’t like to think about what that says about me,” she replied airily, getting up and fetching her makeup. 

“It says that you were made for me, baby, only for me. And I was made for you.” He padded across the floor in his socks and watched her as she studied herself in the mirror. “You gotta make your eyes more dramatic. You know, one day I’m gonna take you out there to Las Vegas, it will make you flip your lid, I tell you what for sure. We’ll get all dolled up, get your hair and make up all done up properly-” Chancy flinched slightly, but tried to suppress it. “Watch ‘em fall over their asses then! They won’t be saying… What was it, ‘jug of corn liquor at a champagne party’, sonsofbitches.” Their reflections locked eyes. “Sorry, baby. There now, look at that, got myself my very own glamor girl right here at home.”

__________________________________________________________

Standing in the kitchen, Chancy looked out at the busy street out front and started a little as Alberta came back in from taking drinks out to the guests. Remembering why she was in there in the first place, she grabbed a plate of Mrs Presley’s peanut butter cookies as she had been asked and laughed when she and Alberta had to do a funny little dance to avoid crashing into each other. 

By the time Chancy got out to the patio, Mrs Presley was putting her hand over her eyes as Elvis clambered through the churned mud and piles of earth where there would soon, hopefully, be a pool next to the shell of what was going to be the pool house/garage. Chancy’s little sister Alicia and a couple of Elvis’ younger cousins were gamboling after him like little baby goats and Mrs Presley was worrying that they were all going to fall and hurt themselves. Mr Presley grunted a quiet noise in agreement and put his hands in his pants pockets.

“Cha-Cha, honey, get them to come back now before they break an ankle.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Chancy eyed the mud dubiously and then trudged across the flattened lawn in her saddle shoes. She walked past a couple of girls a little younger than her that she didn’t recognise standing off to the side of the patio and glanced at them curiously as she passed.

Elvis’ young cousin Billy had managed to slip and fall onto his back by the time Chancy made it over to the mounds of soil and he was wiggling his arms and legs about like an upturned turtle while Elvis stood at the top of the pile laughing at him.

“What’cha doing, looking over your kingdom?” she called, sliding her hands into the secret pockets she had sewn into her skirt.

“It’s looking pretty good,” he grinned. He reached out a hand. “C’mon, honey, come up and see.”

“But your mama…” She couldn’t resist that mischievous sparkle in his eyes and grabbed his hand, letting him pull her up onto the pile of earth.

It was a strange kind of kingdom, the lawn sloped down so they were still looking slightly up at the people on the patio and the overhanging roof of the one storey house. Over to the left was the expanse of the empty lot next door and to the right was the cluttered space of the carport. Chancy realized there were a couple more girls standing there too.

“Who are those girls?” she asked, as Elvis wrapped his arms around her rib cage a little too tightly, fingers tapping a calypso against her side.

“Huh? Oh, just fans, baby. Don’t worry about them.” He mashed his lips into her cheekbone and gave her a couple of baby bird pecks afterwards. “What d’you think about our new swimming pool?”

“Needs more water,” Chancy pronounced pensively. He laughed his hiccupping giggle and squeezed her even tighter.

“I missed you, funny girl.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck making weird farm animal noises and she made a pretense of trying to fight him off, but they both knew that she didn’t really want that.

“Hey,” he pulled back suddenly and leant down to grab a chunk of earth. “D’you think I’d be able to hit Red in the ass with this from here?”

“I think you’d probably hit my Grandma or a window,” she returned. He looked indignant but he dropped the dirt.

“Where’s your faith, baby? I could make that shot no problem. I- I’m gonna show you. When there’s less people around I’ll show ya and you’ll see. How you gonna make it up to me then, huh?”

Chancy turned from the cluster of people on the brick patio and looked into his face, just inches away from her own. His thick mascaraed lashes were obscuring his eyes as he stared at her mouth and she could feel his breath as little, fast puffs of air against her lips.

“Anyway you like,” she heard herself murmuring. She saw the surprise on his face at the same time as it flashed inside herself. Sometimes it was like that, they had become mirrors of each other. He could tell her what she was feeling even as it was unfurling in her and vice versa.

“Aw, it sounds like my baby missed her guy,” he observed, even as she was thinking the same thing.

“It’s getting hard to miss you,” she returned. “Every time I turn on the radio you’re there. Television, you’re there. Newspaper… Oh, there you are!”

He frowned, pouting a little and pulling back from the waist as he looked down on her.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,”

“It’s not, I just prefer the real thing,” she replied softly. He smiled at her gently, his cheeks round like apples.

“You got the real thing, you know that.”

Elvis glanced over suddenly as his mother called to them to come down before they ended up in the hospital. He quickly helped Chancy down the hill with his arm around her shoulder, grabbing up Billy by the front of his shirt as they passed by and tugging him along too.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna have a swimming pool, Elvis,” Alicia remarked, nudging into Chancy like she couldn’t walk in a straight line. “I don’t know nobody with a swimming pool.”

“Anybody,” Chancy murmured at her under her breath.

Elvis grinned down at Alicia and gave her a wink.

“You gotta promise you’ll come test it out for me and make sure it’s good enough, Lil’un. Maybe we can get your sister into one of those fancy two-piece swimsuits…” He pulled back and ran his eyes up Chancy from the back; she caught it as she looked over her shoulder to see why he’d stopped, and immediately shoved him.

“Ow!” he laughed, tugging her back against him. “Can’t fault a fella for lookin’!”

“Yes, I can,” she returned airily, flipping her hair over her shoulder and elbowing him in the sternum one last time.

“Hey, Elvis?” one of the girls called from over by the carport. It was as if they were doubling in number every time Chancy looked over.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Elvis murmured to Chancy, giving her waist a squeeze before turning and jogging over to the girls. Billy followed, of course, like always.

“I bet they all want to be his girlfriend,” Alicia remarked, looking back at the mound of earth. “But none of ‘em will get to swim in that pool.”

Chancy snorted in spite of herself, dragging her eyes away from where Elvis was tilting his head and smiling winsomely at a girl in three quarter length trousers. Chancy knew that stance of his, that head tilt, and that damn smile. Even looking at it from afar made her tummy flutter.

Grabbing her sister’s wrist, she tugged her back up to the patio where the Presleys, Billy’s parents the Smiths, Grandma Minnie, and Grandma were now sitting at a garden table drinking lemonade. They were talking about the neighbors and how welcoming they had been, though Mrs Presley said that they were a little different to what she was used to.

“Well, as long as they’re good, moral, god-fearing people,” Grandma intoned into the rim of her glass of lemonade.

Chancy could barely stand it, listening to them talk about people from the old neighborhood- who was sick, who had died and whose children had gotten into trouble. It felt as if all she did was sit with the older folks and listen to them talk like she was a little child not allowed to wander far, instead of an almost high school graduate and woman of eighteen. 

With school wrapping up, a lot of the kids had been getting together, having study sessions, dance parties, and picnics over at Riverside. Chancy had been trying to join in, even though she had drifted away from her gang of friends in the past few months. It was hard to stay part of a circle when everyone was paired off and going on group dates, and you were neither single nor paired up. Her friends had been sweet though, inviting her along and leaving her to converse with the odd visiting cousin or an older brother home on leave. It was a compromise, though not a particularly satisfying one. 

Until the night Elvis called from the road in one heck of a bad mood. He was mad at Gene, who had embarrassed him somehow, and he was mad at the hotel people, who couldn’t take a joke, and he was mad at Red for getting into another fight that Elvis had to pay to smooth over, and he was mad at the newspapers for saying such awful things about him. Mainly, however, he was mad at Chancy. 

How was he supposed to focus on his work and deal with everything when he had his mother telling him that Chancy had been going out all times of the day and night? Bad enough he had Mama worrying over him every second of the day, but now she was fretting over Chancy too? 

It wasn’t an argument, because that needed two people and Elvis had clearly been having it out with her in his head for a while before he called. She was just there to hear the denouement. He had decided that the real reason she had wanted to stay in Memphis was not to be with him, but to stay at school and carry on her social life, dating and fooling around with her silly friends, and so she might as well leave straight after graduation and go to live with Grammy, who had stayed on in Mississippi to grieve with Uncle Stan’s wife after he passed following his surgery. 

No matter how hard she tried to plead her case, he was immoveable, his voice that cold, hard machine gun fire that she hated, words short and spat like bullets. 

Yet, now he was home, and her sweet Elvis was back, that cold stranger on the phone a distant memory. Except her cases were packed in the bedroom, ready for her to leave straight after her graduation tomorrow. She had been hoping so desperately for a reprieve, for Elvis to have one of his change of hearts and tell her to stay, that she had not really considered what she was going to do in Mississippi with everyone a stranger apart from her aunt, grandmother and little sister; no school to occupy her time, and her secret boyfriend/close family friend so far away from her in every way. 

“Excuse me,” she murmured, standing quickly and biting down hard to keep a pleasant amiable expression on her face as she stepped back into the house. She made it to the bedroom, but once she sat down on the end of one of the beds, the tears that had been stinging at the back of her eyes in the backyard were stuck back there. She felt too tense to even cry, everything stretched too tight. Maybe her body was just tired of crying, it was such an effort and never seemed to make anything any better. 

There was a gentle tap on the door and Chancy immediately sat up straight and smoothed her skirt over her lap. 

Mrs Presley peeped her head around the door, flashing that smile that changed her naturally somber looking face into something playful, sweet and welcoming. Chancy had always prided herself on her ability to evoke that smile. Maybe not as easily and quickly as Elvis could, but almost. 

“Thought I’d find you in here,” she said, waiting for Chancy’s nod of assent before she came right in, even though it was her house. “You came running in here so fast I thought you might be sickening for somethin’.” She tilted her head, her eyes scanning Chancy with a supernatural, almost tangible gaze. 

“I’m fine, I guess the sun was in my eyes and it gave me a little headache, that’s all.” 

“You are sick,” Mrs Presley murmured in concern, putting her hand on Chancy’s forehead like she was a little girl. The tears finally surged. It had been so long since Chancy had felt like anyone’s child. 

“Aw, Cha Cha,” Mrs Presley murmured, lowering her palm from Chancy’s cool forehead to her knotted hands on her lap. She dropped down beside Chancy on the end of the bed, nudging her with her shoulder. Chancy leant against her a little, enjoying the soft warmth at her side. “You’re goin’ to start me off something awful. Then Elvis’ll come in here and find us both carrying on like babies.” She did an uncanny impression of a baby wailing that had Chancy laughing even as mascara-stained tears spilled onto her cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” she managed, drawing out one of her hands from beneath Mrs Presley’s to try and staunch the flood from her eyes. 

“Don’t you worry, honey, I’d’ve liked to have cried my heart out when Elvis told us you were going down to visit with your folks. He said I was taking on so much it was as if you were my own.” She squeezed Chancy’s hands in an unspoken addition to that sentence. 

“But I understand what it is to have to take care of your family and have ‘em countin’ on you.” After a pause, she broke out the blinding smile again. “And, Lord, it’s only two weeks. I don’t know why I’m getting all ahead of myself. You’ll call though, to let me know you’re all right?” Chancy was a little slow to respond, trying to digest the words. She puzzled over why Elvis had told his parents that she was only going on a short trip to visit family. Maybe it was easier than telling them the truth. By the time she was down there, he could say that she had decided to stay a little longer, then a little longer, and consequences could unspool without him ever having to be upfront and risk a confrontation. 

“I’ll call all the time,” she nodded, trying to catch up to the conversation. “And please, call me. I don’t know what I’ll be doing with my time down there now that school is done.”

“Well, I know what we’d all like you to be doing,” Mrs Presley remarked, giving her a pointed look, again a hand squeeze substituting all the words she knew she shouldn’t really say. They sat there a few minutes more, quiet and yearning in their own ways for things they felt too guilty to ask for out loud. 

Later, after dinner, Mr Presley drove Grandma and Alicia back to the motel they had splashed out on so they could come and watch Chancy’s graduation. Chancy watched them go, feeling oddly removed, out of step with their happiness at her achievement. How could she celebrate something that brought so much heartache?

“I wanna go for a ride,” Elvis said suddenly as the audience on the tv laughed at the panelist’s story. His mother made a comment about it being late, but Elvis dismissed it flatly, an undercurrent of tension in his body as he shoved his feet into his shoes and went to grab a jacket. 

Chancy gave Mrs Presley a small smile like she could make up for his irritation, but Gladys was already looking away with the same moody pout on her face. There was no interceding between them, for good nor bad. 

Elvis grabbed her hand as they stepped out the back door, pulling her along so that she had to almost jog to keep up. Under the light of the carport, she couldn’t make out if there were any of the knots of girls that were becoming a permanent fixture outside. Even though it was late, sometimes they crept around the yard in the dark, stealing grass from the lawn and tapping on windows like stray kittens turning feral. 

Chancy watched Elvis straddle his motorcycle, his brooding face obscured by his hanging forelock of hair. She resisted the urge to reach out and brush it away as he leant down to fiddle with the fuel cap, knowing he had to be in the right mood for you to mess with his hair. 

“Couldn’t we take the ca-” she began, before stopping short as he looked at her sharply from beneath his brow. She didn’t want to fight on her last night and leave nothing but a bad aftertaste behind her. Instead, she hurriedly tied her headscarf and climbed up behind him. 

Chancy pressed herself against his solid warmth, tightening her arms around his waist, making out that she was having trouble keeping a grip on his leather jacket. This was the reason that she continually risked her grandma’s ire and willingly caused Mrs Presley to fret by climbing into the motorcycle whenever Elvis asked, for this- the chance to grab hold of him as tightly as she could, knowing he couldn’t slip away or be taken from her. A pang gripped her chest as she considered whether this was the last time she would be able to do it.

Elvis rode around for a while, seemingly aimlessly, but Chancy noted that they passed her old apartment building, places his family had lived while she had known them, Humes, Crown Electric, and Sun. Back and forth, zig zagging, and doubling back until she was almost dizzy with it. 

Finally, he pulled over near the river and, whereas they hadn’t spoken on the motorcycle because of the roar of the engine, now it was because it was impossible to know where to start. 

Elvis climbed off the motorcycle and tugged down the front of his black leather jacket. She watched him scoop a small rock from the ground and weigh it in his palm before he threw it into the dark, a faint plop the only indication that it made it to the water. He had that faraway look in his eye like he was thinking about things too distant from her understanding. That had been happening more and more, and she resented it.

Scuffing her shoes into the scrubby ground, she wrapped her arms around his waist again, pressing her cheek into his spine and inhaling the smell of leather. If she closed her eyes, she could stop time and nothing would change. She wanted to resist when he tugged her arm loose and turned so that she was plastered to his front, but she still melted at the soft, slow drag of his lips against hers. Maybe this was actually the moment she wanted to stretch into infinity. 

Gradually, his warm lips made their way down her jaw and tickled her neck and he squeezed her to him, practically bending her backwards. She had to pull away before she snapped into two.

“I can’t believe that I’m finally graduating tomorrow,” she remarked, her voice stark and out of place in the still hum. “I feel like I was waiting for it for so long, but now that it’s happening…” She tucked a wisp of hair into the scarf she had hurriedly tied under her chin to protect her fresh salon do, a graduation gift from Mr and Mrs Presley. 

“S’natural,” he shrugged, rubbing his palms up and down her hips. “I couldn’t wait to get out of school, but, soon as it happened, God almighty, it scared me to death, trying to figure out what I was gonna do.” 

“Boy, I hope I’m not as unlucky as you turned out to be,” she remarked dryly, shooting him a sideways look. He snorted softly and tugged at the corner of her scarf, making her throw up her hands to keep it intact. 

“Careful, I don’t know if it’s set properly.”   

“It’s set plenty,” he replied coolly, nostrils flaring. “Might as well use it to hammer in nails. Why’d you go and let ‘em cut off so much anyway?” 

Chancy nodded wryly to herself, having known this was coming ever since his lukewarm appraisal of her hair when he arrived home. She didn’t let herself get too hurt. It often felt like he wanted to be able to put them all in a closet somewhere while he was gone and then take them back out safe and unchanged when he returned. 

“Your mama took me to get it done,” she reminded him. “And it's not that short, it’s just the curl.” He grunted and took to scuffing his feet at the ground near his motorcycle. “Everyone else said they liked it.”

“I bet they did. Anyone in particular or you casting the net wide these days?” He muttered through his pout, churlishly tossing another rock that bounced off the dirt nearby.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You tell me what it’s s’posed to mean, Chancy. I- I don’t have none of the answers, I- I- I don’t know where you been when I been callin’ and what the hell you been doing. Or who you been doing…”

It was nothing new, this old well worn routine, the same bitter accusations they had been tossing back and forth for the past few months. Weak reasons they fumbled for to explain the unsettling distance that they felt between them, stretching and deepening relentlessly.

This time though, something in Chancy snapped; she almost heard the plink as if the last fraying thread twisted and tore apart. She could feel her face screwing up as she turned and shoved him with all her might. He managed to catch himself before he stumbled back into his bike and landed in a heap of bones, steel and leather, but in that moment, she was almost sorry about it. 

“That’s a damn rotten thing to say!” she cried, balling her fists to stop herself from snatching up the nearest rock. “You’ve no right to be so nasty!” She stumbled, trying to hold herself still, but the fuse had been lit and she had no way of containing all the fiery rage and hurt that was spitting and hissing from her now. She started stalking off down the side of the road.

Elvis had been momentarily stunned by her reaction, but he snapped back into himself as she marched off and, to her utter fury, sounded almost amused as he called: “And where the hell d’you think you're going?!”

“Away from you!” she bellowed back, yanking off her head scarf and throwing it onto the ground. It landed with as much force as a feather landing on cotton candy, which infuriated her. She wanted to stamp her feet and thrash around, to scream at the top of her voice and make the buildings shake. 

For so long, Chancy had worked hard to be good and defy the blood inside her; to shed the whispers and condemnation that had plagued her as a child because of her parents. Grandma had taught her all about salvation, being saved and reborn, and she had willingly submitted to the water, to the cleansing, to be reborn as her grandmother’s child. And with Elvis, she had walked that tightrope being the good girl he could bring home to Mother and the good time girl he could have fun with. It was starting to feel like she was being stretched so tight at all corners that she was beginning to tear.

“C’mon now, honey, don’t get all up on your high horse.” He grabbed her arm to turn her, which was a shock since the blood was thundering so loudly in her ears that she hadn’t heard him approach.. 

“No!” She wrenched herself free, hurting more than helping herself. “Leave me alone!” 

“What you got yourself so worked up for, huh? You’re gonna spoil that damn hair you love so much if you keep carrying on like that.” 

Heated by his mocking tone and his smirk, Chancy shoved him again, freezing at the icy fury that sparked in his eyes as he whacked his elbow on the wall. 

“Son of a bitch! Get on the goddamn motorcycle!” he yelled, gripping his arm.

“I ain’t going anywhere with you!” she roared back, the words echoing back to her from empty lots, brick walls, and stark, resilient trees. “I ain’t going anywhere… with you.” She echoed her own words softly, hearing them, understanding them, tasting them like bitter medicine. 

“You’ve about lost your damn mind,” he snarled. “What the hell are you going to do out here on your own, huh?”

Through blurred, tearfilled eyes, she watched the moonlight gleam off his jacket as he strode away, trying to match her heat and energy but falling short. Like a flame vying against lava. She could hear him muttering fast to himself, though she couldn’t make out the words. She didn’t care anyway. Let him say what he liked, let him badmouth her hair, call her crazy, accuse her of all kinds of nasty things, because she was done. Done! It was over. Everything was over!

Gradually, her speed and purpose began to fade as the rage curdled into sadness and the fuel soured into sorrow. There was a brutal, logical sense to everything ending at once. School had been the background to their romance, where she had spent her time daydreaming about them being together, about marriage and children, about being part of a whole, real family. Those dreams had been growing fainter and sliding further into the distance than even her imaginary eyes could make out as she had progressed through her senior year.  

Chancy shivered despite the mild air and glanced around at the black, sightless windows of the buildings around them. No matter what else he had said, Elvis had been right about one thing, she had no business hanging around here by herself. She looked over to where he was straddling his bike, his face creased in that deep sulking pout that usually had her scrambling to make amends and earn back his smile and love. This time there was no scrambling.

Silently, she walked towards him, gathering up her skirt in front and straddling the seat. He didn’t speak either, tilting his head slightly towards her, before starting the engine with a little more force than necessary.   

The motorcycle sped through the dark streets, the lights blurry and refracted in Chancy’s tear-filled eyes. She squeezed his jacket in her fists and closed her eyes as the breeze whipped her hair into her face. 

As they rolled down the wide suburban street, Chancy glanced up at the first floor window of one of the neighbours, seeing the teenage daughter standing silhouetted in the yellow light. They had never spoken, despite seeing one another every day. She wondered what the girl saw as she looked out at them. 

The lights were out in the house, Mr and Mrs Presley having gone to bed, but they had left on the light in the carport and it burnt Chancy’s eyes as she climbed off the bike and scraped the loose tendrils of her hair from her lips and eyelashes. Her cheeks were tight and tearstained and she wiped the loose drops under chin as she turned towards the back door. 

At the last minute, Elvis caught her hand, gently this time, and drew her back towards him. She didn’t fight, she had none left in her, and as soon as she made contact with his chest, she started to cry again. His arms squeezed her and he made shushing noises; she felt him stroking her hair so softly. 

“Shh, baby, shhh. S’posed to be a big girl now, all graduated and everything.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands and tilted her face upwards, sighing indulgently as he tucked her hair behind her ears. “Look at this little baby’s face. Where those pretty brown eyes gone, huh, all puffed up like that.” 

“I never-” Her words were washed away by the unshed tears in her throat. She wanted to tell him that she had never stepped out on him, in spite of what he had heard. That she had always been true, even deep down in her heart. But what did it matter anyway? She was leaving tomorrow, suitcases packed and a cot made up for her in a bedroom she was going to have to share with her ten year old sister. He frowned slightly, waiting for her to finish, probably expecting her to beg him, prostrate herself and weep away what little self-respect she had left. She couldn’t do that. Not even for Elvis Presley.  

Instead, she let out an ironic laugh and shook her head, rubbing those swollen eyes he had teased her about. 

“I’ll just pull my hair in front of my face,” she joked. “See, not so short after all.” She tugged on her limp bangs, pulling them down over her brow. He looked at her for a long time, his full, pouty lips parted like he was about to speak.  

Before Elvis could spit out what he was thinking, there was a muffled giggle and some whispering. They both squinted towards the street, but it was difficult to make out anything in the dark from beneath the pool of light they were standing in.

Inside, the house was quiet and this stillness felt impenetrable as they walked through the wood paneled hallway towards the bedroom. Nothing felt real, Chancy was numb and swollen with tears and the heaviness of acceptance. Almost like carrying a heavy weight and then finally putting it down, the load still dragged at her like a phantom. She was not going to marry Elvis. She was not waiting for him. She didn’t have to hide and monitor what she said and where she went. She didn’t have to worry that her picture would show up in some magazine somewhere. She didn’t have to read about how many girls were after him and how he was eager to try them all. She didn’t have to do anything. She didn’t have to love him. Once she put down all of that, what was left?

Wearily, she wandered into the bedroom and, kicking off her shoes, she climbed onto the spare bed and curled up. She expected Elvis to go into the den and cool off; leave her to ‘stew in her own juices’ as she had once heard him joke when she had gone to bed after one of his friends brought a carload of girls to sit around and watch them play pool. 

Instead, the mattress on the other bed creaked as he sat down to undress. She listened to material rustling and the soft sound of him sighing as he pulled off his shoes. It went still and quiet. 

Minutes later, she was jostled as he climbed into bed behind her, his warm body spooning hers. She thought of pulling away, jabbing with sharp elbows into soft places, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She was incapable of anything as she felt his hot breath against the arc of her neck and his lips pressing against the thumping of her pulse. 

Was she trembling or was it his hand as he spread it flat against her collar bone and smoothed it down her front, his luscious mouth nipping and pecking at her jaw as she tried to breathe, tried to think. She thought she heard him whispering, soothing her like a frightened animal as he stroked her sides, his thumbs circling her breasts, long fingers gripping her hips. 

The realisation sank into her mind, the way that the scant light in the darkened room gradually seeped into her eyes, what was happening. If it was over, if it was really over, then there was no more need to wait. She was never going to be his bride in white. She forced herself to keep breathing through the pang that gripped her chest at this thought. There would be time for grieving later. After. 

Blindly, she turned in his arms, kissing him back hard and angrily. Not angry with him, not anymore, but angry that there was no one to be angry with. He met and returned her intensity, tugging up her skirt as they kissed with bruising force, their noses bumping, breath heavy, and hearts aching. 

The weight of him, crushing her ribs and heating her core felt right, like an inevitability, and all her worries about being a good girl, about saving herself, about the future, evaporated as she felt his fingers pulling at the buttons on her blouse. He was shaking, but so was she, though not just with nerves. She helped him unfasten the last few buttons and writhed so that he could pull off the blouse, before pulling him down again, against her, into her, so tight and so heavy that she could not think or breathe. 

Her fingers tingled as she ran them down his shoulders, his sides and around his hips, his skin like velvet and desecration. He jerked and she felt it like a jolt of electricity between her thighs, a current that intensified and demanded more. She shivered, goosebumps rippling up her body as he tugged her skirt up, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.  

Elvis paused, eyes hooded in shadow, though she could almost feel them studying her intently. 

“Are you-” He cleared his throat, but still whispered, “Are you sure, honey?” She nodded, her face pressed into his shoulder, trying to pull him back down, wanting that suffocating, numbing weight and warmth against her. 

Chancy was burning so hot that she thought any tears she had left would evaporate from her skin. She trembled as she watched him climb awkwardly off the bed and hurry over to the bedroom door, turning the lock with a click. She was amazed he could think straight enough to remember, she certainly hadn’t. 

Back beside the bed, he whipped off his pants like it was a race and then threw himself back into bed, making her bounce on the mattress, and covered her body with his own. In the half darkness, he pulled back and she could see that little smile on his face, the one he got when he was embarrassed or out of his depth. It made her feel better that they were both on the same page. She clasped the sides of his face and pulled him down, only knowing that she always felt stronger, more whole, indestructible, when she was kissing him. 

Below her skirt, he trailed a bitten fingernail up the inside of her thigh, making a giggle against his lips and writhe in a way that seemed to please him. Beneath him, Chancy felt unable to suck enough air into her lungs as he thrust against her, still separated by her underwear. He kissed the side of her face as his fingers hooked into the legs of her panties and started to slide them down. He kissed her harder, almost as if he was trying to distract her from what was happening below the covers, as if she wasn’t completely covered in goosebumps. As if her skin wasn’t burning. As if her pulse wasn’t throbbing between her legs. 

At the first pinch, Chancy tried not to flinch.The girls had all whispered and worried about how painful it was supposed to be the first time. Some had heard horror stories from older sisters and cousins, and they had fretted and marvelled over it. One of the girls said her sister started bleeding so bad that she had to go to the emergency room and her parents had found out and sent her to relatives in Arkansas. She exhaled slowly, her fists clenched and pressed into his Elvis’ sides, trying to relax herself and let herself stretch to accommodate him, to make herself the perfect fit for him. To be perfect for him. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered. She realised she had her eyes squeezed shut and she blinked them open, a tear trickling from the corner of her eye. “It’s okay, baby.” He nuzzled her nose gently with his own, kissing her cheek, her jaw, her lips. 

The burning ache subsided as he drew back, she let out a gasp of relief that she immediately regretted, but he seemed to misinterpret it, reassuring her, petting her as if she had been upset over the loss of him, telling her she was his pretty baby, and that they had plenty of time. It was only then that she realised that he hadn’t finished. 

Chancy wanted to ask him why, why he had stopped, why she wasn’t as desirable and irresistible to him as the other girls that he was enjoying, why he couldn’t have just given her this last thing before he cast her aside. Instead, when she opened her mouth, something completely different came out. 

“Elvis, I don’t want to go.” He stopped fussing over her, sliding so that he was lying on his side in the narrow bed and she was tucked up against him. She could still feel him pressing insistently into her hip.

“I know, baby, I don’t want you to go neither.” 

“But why-” 

“”I- I can’t help but feeling that things’ve been getting tough for you these past few months,” he murmured into her hair, making goosebumps break out across her scalp. “I’m working so much, ain’t hardly home, and- and it’s only natural that you have been… castin’ an eye on what you’ve been missin’.”

“No, that’s not-”

“I-it’s natural- normal for a young girl to wanna… see what’s what before- before she settles on a fellow,” he continued, sliding his palm down her ribs and rubbing her stomach, as if she hadn’t spoken. “She’s gotta make sure she’s not making a mistake, see if the grass is greener.” 

Chancy turned and studied his profile, trying to understand what he was saying to her, wondering why the three years between them somehow seemed so stretched and endless. He flashed her a small smile, his eyes darting up just for a minute to meet hers, to let her join in this scene that he was creating. 

“I don’t blame you, honey, really. I- I understand. You need this, a little time to experience the world and make sure that this is really what you want. That I’m really what you want.”

“I don’t have any doubts, Elvis, I don’t. I want to be with you.” It came out as a croak, because she knew that he had already made up his mind. 

“I know you do, honey, I know, but we need to take this time, you see that, don’t you? It’ll make us stronger in the long run, wipe out all those doubts and questions in that sweet little noggin of yours.” He kissed her hairline, letting his lips slide down to her temple, pressing dry, sweet kisses into her tearstained skin as he rubbed himself against her hip.

“Just a little while and then little ole us will be back in each other’s arms where we belong. I knew you were still my sweet little baby.” He pressed down as his palm grazed over her pubic bone and the heat built between them. “Still my perfect little baby, just for me, huh, ain’t you.” She threw her arms around his neck, murmuring sounds of pleasure as he pressed tighter and harder against her flank, the pain no longer so low down, but in her chest as her heart cracked and fissured into pieces. 

Two days later, the newspaper had a few columns about Elvis’ impromptu visit to Ellis Auditorium to wish good luck to all the High School graduates. They said he was accompanied by his mother and father to show his appreciation for his hometown, and entertain all the young men and girls who were excited to be starting their lives in the presence of their idol. “When pressed by our reporter,” the newspaper stated, “Presley said that he was too busy with his career to focus on dating, but it was clear that many of the girls present wished that they could be the one to change that.”

A week later, the same newspaper carried photos of “a certain dark haired beauty from Las Vegas” who was visiting as a guest at Elvis’ home and being escorted about the city as a “delightfully sinful ornament” on the back of his favourite Harley Davidson motorcycle. 

Sorry, my taglist is probably so out of date! Please let me know if you need an add or delete:

@richardslady121 , @dkayfixates , @fallinlovewithurlove , @notstefaniepresley , @heartbrake-hotel , @freudianslumber , @bbrtt777, @18lkpeters , @prompted-wordsmith , @literally-just-elvis-fics , @eliseinmemphis @lookingforrainbows , @stylespresleyhearted , @amydarcimarie , @returntopresley , @savedrebelcreation , @lettersfromvenus, @littlehoneyposts , @joshuntildawn13 , @i-r-i-n-a-a , @from-memphis-with-love , @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @thatbanditqueen @amix1982

[nikoniclove]

hello! i haven't read all of the ace in the hole fics yet, so i don't know if this idea works with the ages you have in mind for the characters, but i know emily (and jj) are a lot older than ace and paget went grey pretty young irl so it might work

could you do a chapter where somebody mistakes emily for being henry's grandma (a young grandma, to be fair) instead of his mom and showing her dealing with the insecurities of being an older parent and worrying that she won't be able to be as present as she wants to be in henry's life when she gets older? or feel free to completely ignore this request if it doesn't work with the character's ages lmao. thank you!

Ao3 won’t load, so for now, this one will live here. It will eventually get copied over to as a new one-shot in an existing story once the gods accept my fluff offering.

Mislabeled

AN: set after Therapy Has Paws, also includes a brief (very brief) look at Ace pregnant with #2

——

Emily hustles Henry inside for summer camp, a week of Lego Robotics while school is out. “Excited,” she asks with a smile as he skips merrily to the intake desk.

“I’m building dancing ducks today!”

“Maybe when I pick you up, you can show me your progress! I bet it will be super cool, bud.”

The woman at the desk can’t be out of college. She asks for Henry’s name twice. “Can I build Legos now,” he grumbles when it takes her longer than he thinks it should.

“Sorry, we don’t have grandparents on file. Can you tell me your name so I can register the adult who is dropping him off?”

“She’s not a grandma. She’s an imma,” Henry explains with growing annoyance that he’s still not surrounded by Legos. When the woman looks confused, Henry elaborates again. “Imma is like Mama or Mommy but in Arabic and Hebrew.”

“Right. Sorry,” the woman says sheepishly.

“I’m already on file. Emily Prentiss.”

“Right, yeah, I’ve got you checked in, Henry. You know where to go?” He rolls his eyes because obviously he knows where to go.

“Hey, come here,” Emily prompts, crouching to his level. He immediately reaches for her hair, twisting the shoulder-length, silvery locks between little fingers. It’s always been a soothing tactile sensation for him, given that all three of his grown ups have longer hair. “We can choose to be kind,” she reminds him in French. “Remember not everyone is familiar with how our family works, and that’s okay. It only has to make sense to us.”

“Okay, can I go now?” Emily nods, whispering her love as he clamors off towards the hallway. “Bye, Imma! Wait, wait!” He races back, wrapping his pinkie around hers. She kisses their joined fingers three times in rapid succession. “Okay, now bye!”

Emily watches long enough to make sure he gets to the correct door and then heads back to her car, ignoring the jab at her age. Or at least trying to.

All day long, she is shorter with people than she’d like to be. JJ calls her out on it mid-afternoon, and Emily is annoyed that she is letting such an insignificant comment from a young stranger affect her this much. “It’s nothing,” Emily insists. “Get back to work.” JJ scoffs humorously because they both know that phrase will not have the intended effect. “Jennifer.”

“It’s obviously something.”

Emily sighs, pressing her fingertips into her eyes. “It’s stupid. The lady at drop off thought I was Henry’s grandmother, and he corrected her with about as much attitude as your previous response in case we needed more evidence that he’s your son through and through.”

“I’m sorry that it hurt your feelings,” JJ sympathizes, ignoring the attempted deflection about Henry’s sass. “People should really get used to the silver vixen look being for any age, especially when you rock it so well.” Emily grumbles, and JJ realizes she’s not ready to hear physical compliments yet. “What’d you tell Henry?”

“The line about people not needing to understand our family and that we can choose to be kind.”

“Seems like you handled it well then, which is no surprise because you’re a great mother.” Emily hums a noncommittal sound. “I’m sorry it’s thrown you off balance today. We can help you level out later tonight,” JJ offers. “What else can I do, Em?” As expected, Emily brushes it off, and when she sends JJ back to her desk, the blonde actually listens.

When Emily arrives at pick up, she grumbles to realize how grateful she is that the incorrect stranger isn’t behind the desk. “I’m here for Henry Prentiss. I’m his mom. He should be in C1.” Another college student disappears to find him, returning with the child.

“Imma!” Emily easily swings him onto her hip, despite his lanky legs. He’s her boy after all. She scribbles out her signature and shows her ID to confirm her identity. As she gets Henry into his car seat, he yammers a mile a minute about all the things he built. “Me and Duncan are working on a pirate ship!”

“Duncan and I,” she corrects with a kiss to his forehead.

“You’re not building the Legos! I am! You gotta go work, and I get to play with Legos.”

“You’re spot on there, kiddo. Ready to get home to moms?”

“Can we get ice cream, Imma?” He flutters his eyelashes at her, and she chuckles, declining easily. “Please! I won’t tell!”

“Of course you would,” Emily laughs. “It’s the first thing you’d do. You’d run in, all hyped up on sugar, and giggle while you tell Mama our secret.” He shrugs with a toothy grin and emphasizes the please. “Pretty please is not going to help you now, but I do know we have ice cream in the freezer, so maybe have dinner we can have some.”

“Hmm.” Henry decides it’s a worthy compromise. “What’s Mama making?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Hen, but I’m sure it’ll be tasty.”

Henry is quiet in the backseat with the exception of his legs swinging in the open space. “Imma?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Why did the lady think you were my grandma? Does she know Mimi or Mémé?”

Emily’s knuckles whiten, as she tightens her hands around the steering wheel. “No. She doesn’t. She saw my gray hair and assumed I was someone else to you.” Henry’s little head tips to the side as he tries to understand. “She decided I looked a certain way, and to her, that meant I must be your grandparent instead of your parent.”

“Just cause your hair is silver? That’s what Mama and Mommy call it. It’s silver.” Emily’s chuckle is strained. For some reason this conversation aches. “A lot of superheroes have silver hair, and Mama says you’re like a superhero but you get the bad guys in real life.”

“Oh yeah?” Emily glances in the rearview mirror at her son, who looks out the window listing off characters left and right. Everyone from Storm to Quicksilver, Rogue to Black Cat. “What do you think of my silver hair?”

“It’s pretty, and it’s soft,” Henry answers seriously. “And superheroes have silver hair, and that’s cool,” he rambles. “Would you fly?”

“If I could have a superpower,” she clarifies. “Hmm. Good question. I’d like to teleport or make multiple copies of myself, so I could be home with you more. Would you fly?”

“I’d be like a basilisk lizard!”

“Okay,” Emily chuckles at his adorable boyish enthusiasm. “What superpower would that be?”

“In the Wild Kratts book, they have these webbed big feet, so they run really fast on water, and Mommy showed me a video and they’re really silly. I wanna run so so fast that I can run on water.”

“Hmm, that’s cool. I didn’t know that. If you want to be super fast, it seems like we should watch The Incredibles. It’s a kids’ movie about a family of superheroes, and they all have different powers. The little boy has super speed.”

“Cool! Can we watch it tonight?”

“Let’s check in with Mama and Mommy, and then we’ll decide. If not tonight, maybe for Family Movie Night this weekend,” Emily offers. Henry decides that’s amenable, and the rest of the drive is filled with song singing.

——

Once the garage door opens, Henry takes off at full speed, bursting through the house. “Dude! Shoes,” Ace calls. “Also, hi?”

“Hi Mama,” Henry replies, toeing off his shoes and kicking them in the general direction of the hall.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Backyard. C’mon, Goose!” The pup near your feet perks an ear up at his name. You nudge him, giving him the command to follow Henry. The rescue service dog trots in that direction. “Imma said ice cream for dinner!”

“Imma said no such thing,” Emily denies emphatically. “Stop getting me in trouble,” she playfully calls out to Henry. “I get in enough of that on my own, bud.” She leans her hip against the counter, her gaze heavy. “Hi, my love. How was your day?”

“Nothing unusual. Jen told me some dick weasel got in your head.”

“That’s certainly a phrase,” Emily chuckles, her hair shifting like a curtain around her shoulders. “Actually Henry fixed it.” You arch your eyebrows. “A lot of superheroes have silver hair, and I was told specifically that it’s silver and not gray. He said you tell him I’m a superhero, so to him it makes sense. Plus he thinks it’s soft and pretty.”

“It is soft, and it is pretty,” you confirm, your hand warm on her cheek. “You seem more settled than JJ described.”

“I snapped at a few people in the office.” Your expression says you know she’s underestimating. “Fine.” As she acquiesces, Emily wraps you in a hug from behind, her chin on your shoulder to nuzzle your neck and her hands interlaced under your pregnant belly. “I snapped at a significant number of people today, but the drive home with Hen was good. It helped. Hearing you say the phrase ‘dick weasel’ also helped, and this smells like coq au vin. Are you going to be able to eat that, love?”

You shrug, leaning back into her stability and comfort. “I’ll do my best. Little Bit could use to eat something that isn’t a bland carb.”

“I don’t think Little Bit gives a shit,” Emily teases. “I can make you some plain pasta when your plan inevitably leads to nausea. Where are the kicks today?” You take her hand, sliding along the underside of your belly to the spot where growing little feet bump you from the inside out.

“They’re calmer now though that I’m up moving. Heaven forbid I sit down for a few minutes, then Little Bit decides to throw a rave in Mama’s belly, huh?”

“Definitely JJ’s kid then,” Emily snarks. “Neither of us are the dance party type people.”

“I don’t know you’ve been known to dance around if the right people ask.”

“Don’t make me tickle you,” she threatens. “I’ll wash my hands and take over. You sit. I can make you some tea.”

With one hand at your lower back, Emily guides you to one of the bar stools. You watch the way her blouse ripples and flutters perfectly around her chest and stomach as she pulls her silvery locks into a low ponytail. She rolls her sleeves, puts the kettle on, and then turns to look at you. “Okay, where were you? Walk me through it.”

“You’re beautiful,” you say instead. Nothing else, nothing verbose or elaborate. Emily glances down at her outfit, briefly trying to understand what you’re seeing after her day fraught with insecurity. Her lips curve in a genuine smile at the simple compliment. You can see it relax her body a bit.

“Coq au vin,” Emily prompts again through her smile.

For whatever JJ was worried about, Emily is at baseline, and your home feels like it’s filled with the warm, stable tenderness you adore.

[ssparksflyy]

Hiii I hope you are having a great day!! I was wondering if you could make another percy jackson x daughter of Hecate reader? If you don’t/ can’t do it that’s fine I just though i would ask.

ask and thou shall receive ༉‧₊˚.

percy jackson dating hcs ! *ੈ✩‧₊˚

pairing: percy jackson x latina!daughter of hecate!reader warning(s): swearin an: dw i got ur 2nd request that u wanted reader to be latina :)) i just added in some little things that tie in ♡♡ srry if these are short btw </3

in the dead of night, your eyes so greennnnnnnn

you and percy tend to stay up later than most of camp

your always up and out after curfew

you js function better at night okay

me asf

the day is reserved for lake dates and the night is reserved for sky watching dates ♡♡

youre literally attached by the hip if you couldnt tell

as they say in waitress, i love you means your never ever getting rid of me ♡

you usually watch from the roof of cabin 3, just cuddled up and sharing a blanket

but once percy suggested you watch from the docks

and you were like oh!

not actually but you looked really hesitant

he was like whats wrong??

so you told him about la llorona !! #coquette

it was so preppy

but now youre both scared to go to the lake at night

even though yk shes not real

and youve literally been through tartarus

and back

and you face unimaginable horrors every day

and percy's literally the son of the sea god

mexican folklore is scary ok yall

idc if it didnt scare you as a kid / you like horror

I DONT

IM TRAUMATIZED

MY GRANDMA PUT ON LA LEYENDA DE LA LLORONA WHEN I WAS FIVE AND I HAVENT KNOWN A DAY OF PEACE SINCE

sorry for trauma dumping yall

kinda silly how some story about a lady who drowned her kids is enough to make 2 of camp half blood's strongest soldiers shake in their boots

so u stick to rooftops ♡

you and hazel are bestiessss

shes a honorary member of cabin 20 of course

you exchange tips and tricks, hazel telling you about the things she saw hecate do and the things she said to her

and you tell her about the things youve picked up over the years :))

percy cant help but smile whenever he sees you two together

he sees hazel as a sister

(yall remember in son when he was ready to fight somebody for her or something like that i dont remember exactly what he said but i do know he was ready to fight)

and ur his fav girl ever ♡

his heart just feels warmed

same way he feels when he sees you playing with estelle

you show her a bit of ur powers and she flips outtttt

she asks sally to be a witch for halloween because "i want to be just like (y/n)!!!"

dont know about yall but if i went home and my family found out i was involved with ~brujeria~ i would not be accepted at home (please read as if youre white and cant say shit in spanish)

thats just the mad religious side talking dont worry yall

but sally and paul would literally let you in with open arms

the jackson's apartment is your second home

percy has a drawer reserved for your clothes in his room ♡♡

he loves it when you sleepover, at home or at camp

he absolutely adores kissing your hands

he doesnt care about the dangers you can produce from them, he'll kiss em allllll he wants

you could be cuddled up together, ur reading to him and he just grabs one of your hands and begins to leave a trail of kisses up your arm, shoulder, neck, cheek, and eventually leaving one on your temple

it just gets you like 😵‍💫

he loves his badass girlfriend, okay?

literally your #1 fan

would beat up anybody who talks shit !!!

tea is your holy ground ♡

because you cant drink coffee

cause ya know, adhd, youll just end up knocking out

though you do drink it when you cant fall asleep at night

its me, hi

and hot chocolate is strickly an only-in-december drink, because then it wont hit in december, since you had it earlier in the year

(my mom does that with gorditas and tamales broooo its painful)

so ya drink tea!

i dont drink tea, so im not even gonna try to tell you what his favorite is

he likes whatever you like

but you try a bunch of different teas and stuff together :)

youd probably adopt a black cat together when youre older

youre never gonna beat your neighbor's witch allegations

(probably because theyre true but youll obviously never say that)

i feel like percy would be more of a dog person but lets be real, he likes horses.

fuckin horse girl smh

but that does not mean he wouldnt love and care for the cat

he'd so let you stop to pet any stray cat you see on the street

takes pictures of the cat anytime you do ♡

you cook together !!

you teach percy a bunch of different recipes and stuff :)

has a 'kiss the cook' apron 100%

and what can ya say, you gotta kiss the cook

man you guys manage to stay silly throughout the horrors, we love

[lovemadethemdoit]

Jake had warned him that this family gathering would be a shit show, and that he should have just let Jake come here alone.

Bradley had learned long ago that Jake can and will go through uncomfortable situations completely by himself and come out on the other side stronger than before.

But only because that‘s what he had always had to do.

Bradley simply won’t let him do it anymore.

So when one of Jake‘s aunts asks when he‘ll get over himself and marry a nice girl like God intended –while completely ignoring Bradley‘s presence at his side- Bradley keeps his facial features in check and takes a step closer to press his shoulder into Jake‘s, offering silent support.

Jake freezes for a moment before he leans into it and puts one of his disarming smiles on his face.

"Aunt Mary, have I introduced you to my boyfriend yet? This is Bradley."

Aunt Mary lifts her chin and raises a eyebrow, displeased by Jake‘s open defiance and being put on the spot by her nephew.

Bradley doesn‘t offer her his hand but his mother had raised him right, so he says "Nice to meet you, ma'am" as neutrally as he can manage, only to be further ignored.

Aunt Mary doesn’t find her Southern manners before Jake has shifted his glass to his other hand so he‘s free to take Bradley‘s into his, entwining their fingers between them.

She goes red in the face and Bradley keeps his face straight, although she reminds him of a cartoon character with her frilly hat about to lift off because of all the steam coming out of her ears.

She loses the stare-off and leaves in a huff, mumbling something about praying for Jake.

Jake rolls his eyes but Bradley doesn’t miss the way his Adam‘s apple bops.

"Always a fun time, seeing the family," Jake says brightly, looking over for the first time since Aunt Mary had stopped him with a hand on his arm.

He squeezes Bradley‘s hand. "Sorry 'bout that. Like I said, you should have just stayed home, Bradshaw."

Bradley starts moving his thumb and steps into Jake‘s space more, giving his boyfriend a moment to breathe and hide.

"Not happening. You okay?"

"I‘m good."

Bradley smiles.

He quickly considers leaning in for a kiss, his hand itching to cradle Jake‘s face, but he keeps it by his side.

He can feel the eyes on his neck and is happy to shield Jake from the disapproving stares for a moment.

"Too good to be true?"

Jake laughs a little, dipping his chin.

"You know it."

Bradley waits for him to look up again. He sees the bravado on Jake‘s face disappear for a moment, just between them. Just for Bradley.

"It’s okay if you‘re not, sweetheart," he reassures him, more quietly. "I got you."

"We got each other, babe."

Bradley smiles.

"We do."

Jake nods. "I‘m ready to get out of here," he confesses.

"Alright. Let‘s roll." He takes the glass from Jake and puts it on the next best surface, squeezes his hand and starts pulling him along.

He navigates their way through the throng of people and waves at Jake‘s sister and her husband, with Jake‘s niece bouncing on his arm, when they notice them leaving.

Jocelyn takes one look at her brother and nods them along. They’re invited over to their house for breakfast the next morning, before their flight out. They‘re the only two people here that Bradley likes, other than Jake‘s grandma.

They‘re in the parking lot before they know it and Bradley guides Jake to the passenger door.

Jake drove them to the church that morning, but Bradley‘d rather take them back to their hotel and give Jake a moment to decompress.

The fact that Jake doesn’t complain as Bradley opens the door for him is a little worrying, but when he gets into the driver‘s seat, Jake pulls him into a kiss over the middle console and Bradley thinks they‘re both gonna be fine.

He puts extra much love into the kiss though, just to make sure.

____

I‘m also putting these drabbles here by the way. (You need to be logged in to see.)

[ilsolefiesta]

random astrological jam

just some absolutely random thoughts I had today while working:

♥ the strongest "mothering mother" I've ever seen is the 4th house Leo Sun with Cancer IC. we all know how lionesses protect their cubs. this quality goes to extremes when one of the most family-oriented signs rules the family house... my aunt has this placement, and she is so passionately devoted to our family. sometimes, she gives me the vibes of Dominic Toretto. we also laugh about how she can change the subject of literally any conversation to her daughter. - the weather is getting worse. - my daughter once became ill during such weather... - wow, his sport skills are amazing. - you know, my daughter used to be a captain of baseball team when she studied at school. - I think there's something wrong with my stomach. - you even have no idea what terrible diarrhea my daughter once had. (her daughter is around 30 already...)

♥ people with strong mutable placements, how often do people tell you that you seem taller than you actually are? or they thought that you were in fact taller than you are?

♥ having Cancer ASC and/or the Moon in the 1st house, along with Scorpio Sun, really creates an "angel in disguise" impression. people with these placements look SO DAMN innocent but then you begin to know them better...

♥ it’s so funny how strong Leo placements can be so obvious in their “godly” self-perception, to the point where you can't even be angry with them. my friend has a Leo stellium (Sun, Mars, Mercury). it was my birthday, so we were planning to have a party at a restaurant. she was the only one who arrived late, and it took her more than 30 minutes after the planned time. and the first thing she said when she arrived wasn’t “happy birthday” or “sorry for being late” etc. it literally was:

- just look at me. I look so damn gorgeous today, don’t you think so?

I thought I was going to die laughing.

♥ aspects of Mercury with Uranus/Chiron can make a person having a rhotacism or some other difficulties with pronunciation. for example, my former classmate and I both struggle with the letter "R" in our speech. however, my Mercury and Uranus form a trine, so people usually don't even notice it unless they are trying to listen for it intentionally. on the contrary, my classmate had a square between them. sometimes it was really hard for people to understand her.

♥ I believe that even though Capricorn ASC people may have other strong placements, they look their best wearing minimalistic clothes. like they are so self-sufficient that the rule "the simpler, the better" works for them 100% of the time.

♥ maybe it has another name in English or I misspelled it somehow (please let me know if you know what it's called). but I haven't seen any articles about Doryphory/Doryphoros and the Charioteer of the Sun in English. however, it's very popular among post-Soviet astrologers.

if you don't know, here's the idea: the Sun is the King, and Doryphory is its supportive power, like a squire. it's the planet that comes before the Sun. check it out. it can, together with the Ascendant, reveal the first impression from you. on the other hand, the planet after the Sun - the Charioteer - can show what you're remembered for in the end.

for example, my Sun is in the 1st house and the first planet behind (clockwise) is my 12th house Mars. I’m always told that I look like self-collected, confident go-getter at first glance. however, Mercury which goes after Sun usually leaves people feeling that I am overthinking and a little nervous. my sister’s Doryphory is Gemini Mercury (harshly squared, however). sometimes it really seems challenging for her to stop talking. she looks like such a chatterbox. however, people usually remember her for her good looks. her Sun is followed by Venus. as for my grandma, her Doryphory is Moon and the Charioteer is Mercury. she is the most prominent example of someone who often says or does something emotionally and then thinks about whether it was the right thing to do or not. Thank you for reading! Have a nice day! Picture credits: Pinterest

[stylesispunk]

"The not so invisible string" | part 7

Not outbreak!Joel Miller x f! reader

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist

summary: you and Joel were made right for each other at the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

word count: 7,8k>

warnings: none but, angst, mentions of bruises, and FLUFF

a/n: Hello, hello! chapter 7 is here! The next one may be the last since it's time to say goodbye to this silly fic, by the way, I hope you like this one because I added everything I could and it's kinda cute. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌 Remember my dm and asks are always open for you if you wanna talk.

dividers by @/saradika.

Joel

I miss you; I haven’t seen you in a week!

You thought that by now, Joel would have begun to behave very differently from the teen boy trying to win your heart back in time, that in your 30s he was going to find different ways to show affection, but he still got the boyish smile on him all the time he saw you, as if you hang up the moon. He still got the dirtiest jokes about salad dressings, and most importantly, he still got your heart in the palm of his hand, but this time he was taking care of it as if it were crystal, and you were so grateful for his actions, talking louder than his promises.

You loved him; he still made you feel like the only girl in the room.

You

Well, sorry for being on a job trip.

I miss you too, but I’m back tomorrow!! Don’t be so needy.

Joel

A delicious dinner will be waiting for you at my house when you arrive.

And well, me.

You

I have a daughter to go see first!

Joel

I will be waiting for the both of you then.

You chuckled at Joel's response; his enthusiasm was evident even through text messages. Despite being apart for just a week, you found yourself eagerly anticipating the moment you would be reunited with him.

You adored the way he always had the time to make you feel special, but he also made his time to include Tara too, as if she were a tiny extension of you to love and take care of as if she were his own daughter.

He was behaving like the father Tara needed.

And you didn’t know this, but Joel was starting to love Tara as if she were his daughter. He knew you and her, plus he and Sarah will become a family soon.

When you arrived again on Tuesday, you made your way to your mother’s house. You couldn’t wait to see Tara. She had been staying with her grandmother while you were away, and you missed her terribly after seven days apart.

As soon as you stepped through the door, you were met with your mother’s smile, welcoming you to enter the house; however, she stopped you for a second.

“Tara seemed to be bothered by something.” Your mom warned.

“What do you mean? Did Dwight do something?” Of course, Dwight was the first person to put the blame on him since he was going to have a day with his daughter because you allowed him to see her once this week while you were away.

“I don’t know, but she was really upset today, and she doesn’t want to talk to me,” she said, her voice tinted with worry.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix it,” you assured her, with determination in your voice. You knew that Tara often kept her feelings bottled up, especially with all the drama between you and her father.

Heading towards Tara's room, you knocked softly on the door before gently pushing it open. Tara was sitting on her bed, her gaze fixed on the floor, lost in her own thoughts.

"Tara, sweetheart, hey!"" You greeted her, approaching her carefully.

“Mom, you’re back,” she said, stepping up from her bed and welcoming you in a tight hug. You knew her so well that you noticed something was off with her. 

You held her close, feeling her warmth and the familiar comfort of her embrace. "I missed you so much," you whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Is everything okay? Your grandma mentioned you seemed upset."

Tara pulled away slightly; her expression was troubled. "It's nothing, Mom," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. But you could see the sadness in her eyes; the weight of whatever was troubling her was evident in the way she held herself.

You reached out to gently cup her face, tilting it up so you could look into her eyes. "You can talk to me, Tara," you reassured her, your voice filled with love and understanding. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out together."

“Shouldn’t you be at Joel’s by now?” she mentioned, dismissing the topic.

You sighed softly, recognizing Tara's attempt to divert the conversation. "I was planning on going there, but you're more important to me right now," you replied, giving her a reassuring smile. "If you want to talk about what's bothering you, I'm here. But if you'd rather not, that's okay too. Just know that I'm always here for you."

Tara's expression softened at your words, a hint of gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thanks, Mom," she said quietly, leaning into your touch. “But you should go; he must miss you by now.”

“He actually wanted both of us over for dinner,” you mentioned, studying her face, which shone at the mention of Joel’s invitation, but it faded soon.

“I just... I don't feel like going out tonight," she admitted softly, avoiding your eyes.

Your heart sank at her words, knowing that Tara's reluctance to go to Joel's house was a sign that something was truly bothering her. "Okay, sweetheart," you said, trying to hide your own disappointment. "We can stay in tonight and talk, just the two of us."

“No, you must go,” she said.

You could sense Tara's insistence—her desire for you to go and spend time with Joel—conflicting with her own reluctance to join. It was clear that she was trying to put on a brave face for you, but you couldn't ignore the underlying sadness in her eyes.

"Tara, if something is bothering you, I want to be here for you," you said gently, reaching out to grasp her hand. "Joel will understand if I need to stay with you tonight. Your well-being is my priority."

Tara squeezed your hand, her gaze meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. "I know, Mom," she said softly. "But I'll be okay. And I don't want you to miss out on time with Joel because of me."

You sighed, torn between your desire to comfort Tara and your longing to see Joel. But ultimately, you knew that Tara needed you more in that moment.

"Okay, Tara," you conceded, offering her a reassuring smile. "I'll go to say hi to him, but I'll be back later, and we can talk more then, okay?"

Tara nodded, her expression filled with understanding. "Okay, Mom," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

With one last squeeze of her hand, you rose from the bed and made your way to the door, feeling a pang of guilt as you left Tara behind.

As you made your way to Joel's house, your heart raced with anticipation. Despite the conflicting emotions stirring within you about leaving Tara behind, the prospect of seeing Joel filled you with a sense of excitement and longing.

Finally, you arrived at Joel's doorstep, your heart pounding with nervous energy as you raised your hand to knock on the door. The sound echoed through the quiet night, and you held your breath, waiting for Joel to answer.

Seconds felt like an eternity until you heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. And then it swung open, revealing Joel standing before you, his eyes lighting up with joy at the sight of you.

"Hey," he said softly, a smile spreading across his face as he pulled you into his arms. "I've missed you."

Seconds felt like an eternity until you heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. And then it swung open, revealing Joel standing before you, his eyes lighting up with joy at the sight of you.

"Hey," he said softly, a smile spreading across his face as he pulled you into his arms. "I missed you,” he whispered, placing a kiss on your lips.

You melted into his embrace, feeling a rush of relief and contentment wash over you. In that moment, all the worries and uncertainties faded away, leaving only the comfort of being in Joel's arms once more.

“I missed you too,” you replied, your voice filled with warmth as you leaned into him and into his embrace, where you belonged.

“Where is Tara?” Joel asked after noticing the absence of the teen behind you.

“At my mother’s. She said she didn’t feel good, and I know she is lying, but she insisted on me coming to see you,” you said to him.

Joel's smile widened at Tara's thoughtful gesture, his eyes softening with affection but still showing worry. "She's always looking out for you," he remarked, his voice filled with warmth.

You nodded, feeling grateful for Tara's care and concern. "Yes, she is," you agreed, feeling a surge of love for your daughter. "I'm lucky to have her, but she is my priority, so I just came to say hi.”

Joel pulled you closer, his arms enveloping you in a comforting embrace once again. "Maybe you could ask Sarah," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe she knows something.”

“Are you sure?” You mumbled against his shoulder.

“Yes, she is inside; come on.” Joel took your hand, leading you inside his house.

As you entered the house, Sarah greeted you with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Hey," she said, stepping forward to hug you. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, sweetheart," you replied, returning her embrace. "How have you been?"

Sarah shrugged with a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Same old, same old," she said cryptically, her gaze flickering towards Joel before returning to you. "What brings you here?"

“Your dad is her boyfriend, and he missed her terribly,” Joel answered to his daughter for you.

You glanced at Joel; a smile creeped on your lips at his words.

A mischievous grin spread across Sarah’s face. "Is that so?" she teased, shooting a playful look at her father. "You must really like her."

Joel chuckled, giving Sarah a mock glare. "She wants to talk to you about Tara."

Sarah's grin softened into a more sympathetic expression as she turned her attention back to you. "Is everything okay with her?" she asked, her tone serious.

You sighed, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders at the opportunity to discuss your concerns with Sarah. "I'm not sure," you admitted, your voice tinged with worry. "She seemed upset earlier, and I can't shake the feeling that something's bothering her."

“Dad, can you let us alone for a bit?” Sarah asked Joel.

Joel nodded, but before heading towards the kitchen, he placed a soft kiss on your forehead as a sign of affection and love for you, saying he was there for you whenever you needed him.

As Joel left the room, Sarah turned her attention back to you, her expression filled with concern.

"What do you think could be bothering her?" you asked gently.

“Well, she seemed off this morning at school. I knew she was with her dad yesterday, so I guess it has to do with him,” she confessed, carefully not to say beyond what she knew; it was Tara who should tell you once she feels ready for it.

You nodded, understanding Sarah's hesitation to delve too deeply into Tara's personal affairs. "That's what I was thinking too," you admitted, feeling a knot of worry tighten in your chest. "But I don't want to push her if she's not ready to talk about it."

Sarah nodded in agreement, her expression sympathetic. "I get it," she said softly. "But maybe knowing that you're here for her, whenever she's ready, will give her some comfort."

You smiled gratefully at Sarah, touched by her insight and understanding. "Thank you," you said, feeling a sense of relief knowing that Sarah was there to support Tara too.

Sarah returned your smile, her eyes filled with warmth. "Of course," she said. "Family looks out for each other, right?"

Your heart warmed at those words, and you looked at Sarah, driven by pure adoration, and found Joel was there spying on the both of you. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Joel peeking in on your conversation with Sarah; his expression was genuine adoration. You couldn’t help but admire the girl he had raised on his own all this time.

As Sarah caught sight of Joel, she grinned mischievously, clearly enjoying the playful moment. "Dad, you're such a spy," she teased, her tone filled with playful banter.

Joel chuckled, stepping fully into the room and wrapping an arm around your waist. "I can't help it if I'm curious about what you two are plotting," he replied with a wink, his gaze shifting between you and Sarah.

You leaned into Joel's touch, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you at the warmth and love radiating from your little family. "We're just talking," you reassured him, exchanging a knowing glance with Sarah.

With a smile, Joel pressed a kiss on your temple, his love for you evident in the gentle gesture. "Well, don't let me interrupt," he said, his voice filled with affection. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

As Joel made his way out of the room, you turned back to Sarah, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "He's something else, isn't he?" you remarked, feeling grateful for the man by your side and the daughter who had grown up under his loving care.

Sarah nodded, her eyes sparkling with fondness. "Yeah, he is," she agreed, her voice filled with warmth. "But we wouldn't have it any other way, would we?"

You shook your head, feeling a surge of love for your family. "No, we wouldn't."

As your conversation with Sarah came to a close, you felt a sense of resolve settling within you. It was time to return to your mother's house and check in on Tara, even if you didn't have all the answers yet.

Turning to Joel, you reached out to take his hand, a gentle smile playing on your lips. "I think I should head back to my mom's house now," you said softly, your voice filled with determination. "I want to see how Tara's doing."

Joel nodded in understanding, squeezing your hand gently. "Of course," he replied, his gaze filled with warmth and support. "Let me know if there's anything I can do."

You leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips, feeling a rush of affection for the man who had stood by your side through thick and thin. "Thank you, Joel," you murmured against his lips, savoring the closeness between you.

With a final smile, you pulled away, reluctantly releasing his hand as you approached the door. As you stepped outside, you paused momentarily, casting one last glance back at Joel, looking back at you with bright eyes and mouthing “I love you”.

You made your way back to your mother's house, your mind buzzing with thoughts about Tara and what could be bothering her. When you arrived, Tara greeted you at the door with a warm smile, ready to go back home with you.

Since you and Dwight ended your marriage, you stayed at your mother’s house for a day until you found an apartment that was perfect for you and Tara to live together.

"Hey, Mom," Tara said, wrapping you in a quick hug before grabbing her bag. "Ready to head back?"

You returned her hug, giving her a reassuring smile. "Yes, let's go."

As you drove back home with Tara in the passenger seat, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease about her. Finally, you turned to her, breaking the silence that had settled between you.

"Tara, sweetheart," you began, your voice gentle. "I know something's been bothering you. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Tara glanced out the window, her expression troubled. "It's just... I don't know, Mom," she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I guess I've just been feeling really confused lately."

You reached out to gently squeeze her hand, offering her a reassuring smile. "It's okay to feel confused, sweetheart," you said softly. "But I want you to know that I'm here for you, no matter what. You can talk to me about anything."

Tara nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Thanks, Mom," she whispered, leaning into your touch. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart," you replied, feeling a surge of love and gratitude for your daughter. "We'll figure this out together, okay?"

"I love you too, sweetheart," you replied, feeling a surge of love and gratitude for your daughter. "We'll figure this out together, okay?"

She nodded. “You know you deserve all the best in the world,” she said to you, her voice cracking a little bit.

“Do you think so?” You asked playfully, your eyes still focused on the road.

“Yes, and my father never deserved you,” she finally said.

You felt a pang of sadness at Tara's words, knowing the pain she must have been feeling about the situation with her father. But you also felt a sense of pride in her strength and honesty.

"I appreciate you saying that, sweetheart," you replied, your voice soft with emotion. "But he's  still your father after all. What’s between us is just between us; don’t hate him just because he wasn’t a good husband.”

And hating him won't change the past or make things better. It's okay to feel hurt or angry, but holding onto that resentment will only weigh you down."

Tara nodded, her expression thoughtful as she absorbed your words. "I know, Mom," she said quietly. “I just see Sarah and Joel, and sometimes I wish he was my father.”

Your heart ached at Tara's words, understanding the longing she felt for a stable and loving family dynamic. You reached out to gently squeeze her hand, offering her comfort and reassurance.

"I understand, sweetheart," you said softly, your voice filled with empathy. "But “what you have left to say was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing as if Joel sensed his name being mentioned; he was the one calling, “Oh my god, I’m going to dump him.”

Tara laughed at your words, encouraging you to answer the call, so you put your phone on speaker.

You glanced at Tara, sharing a laugh with her before answering the call. "Hey, Joel," you said, trying to hide the amusement in your voice.

"Hey, Doe," Joel replied, his voice warm and familiar. "I was just thinking about you. How's everything going?"

"We're on our way back home now," you replied, glancing at Tara as you drove. "I just had a little heart-to-heart."

"Everything okay?" Joel asked, his concern evident in his tone.

"Yeah, everything's fine," you reassured him. "Just some family stuff. How about you? How's your evening going?"

"It's going well," Joel replied. "Sarah and I just finished dinner. She's upstairs doing homework now. I miss you, though.”

You smiled at the warmth in Joel's voice, feeling a surge of affection for him. "You just saw it like an hour ago.”

“I know, but still,” he said. “However, I was calling you for another reason.”

“Oh?” you questioned, furrowing your eyebrows.

"I wanted to ask if Tara would like to join Sarah and me for lunch tomorrow after school; I’m taking the afternoon off," Joel said, his voice carrying a hint of anticipation.

You glanced at Tara, who perked up at the mention of her name. Tara's eyes lit up with excitement. "Yes, I would love to!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with a tint of enthusiasm.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at Tara's eagerness. "You heard her," you confirmed to Joel, a sense of gratitude washing over you for his thoughtful invitation.

“Great!" Joel replied, his tone filled with genuine pleasure. "I look forward to it. See you tomorrow, then.” He paused, “Please tell your mother she is pretty and that I love her.”

“Bye! I love you,” you said on the phone.

You loved the way he had been including Tara in his life since you had returned to his, making an effortless attempt to make her feel loved and included in every single aspect of your now-joined lives.

The next day, Joel led the way to their table, his smile infectious as he engaged in playful banter with Sarah and Tara. The three of them seemed to hit it off effortlessly, their conversation flowing smoothly as they shared stories and jokes.

Throughout the meal, Joel made sure to include both girls in the conversation, asking about their interests and sharing stories from his own life. Sarah and Tara seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely, their laughter ringing out amidst the bustle of the restaurant.

Tara hadn’t felt this loved by a paternal figure since she was nine, and she couldn’t help but feel the beating of her heart increasing, knowing that this may be her reality for the rest of her life.

Tara found herself opening up to Joel in a way she hadn't with anyone else since her parents' divorce. His kindness and attentiveness made her feel seen and valued, filling a void she hadn't realized was there.

Unbeknownst to them, Dwight was nearby, observing the scene from a distance. His heart clenched with jealousy and bitterness as he watched Joel bond with his daughter. He had always believed that he was the only father figure Tara needed, but seeing her smile and laugh in Joel's presence made him realize that he had been wrong.

Dwight's resentment toward Joel only grew; the man hasn’t only kept the hold of his heart in the palm of his hand, but now he is stealing his daughter from him, and his mind is swirling with thoughts of how to regain control over Tara's affections. But little did he know, Tara's heart had already begun to open up to Joel, and there was no turning back.

As Joel led the way back to his truck, Sarah and Tara chatted animatedly behind him, their laughter ringing out in the crisp afternoon air. But their jovial mood came to an abrupt halt when Joel suddenly stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as he examined the side of his truck.

"What's wrong?" Sarah asked, her brow furrowing with concern.

Joel crouched down, inspecting one of the truck's wheels. "It looks like we've got a flat tire," he said, his voice tinged with frustration.

Tara peered over his shoulder, her heart sinking as she saw the damage. "Is there anything we can do?" she asked, feeling a sense of helplessness wash over her.

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'll need to call for a tow truck," he replied, his tone resigned. "It looks like we're going to be here for a while."

As Joel pulled out his phone to make the call, Tara glanced at Sarah, her mind racing with thoughts of what could have caused the flat tire.

But a few seconds later, Joel came back. “I called Tommy; he is going to take the both of you home while I stay here waiting for the tow truck, okay?”

The teens nodded as Joel made the arrangements, and Tara and Sarah exchanged glances, silently communicating their concern. Despite the unexpected turn of events, they knew they could count on Joel to take care of the situation.

"Thanks, dad," Sarah said gratefully as Tommy's car pulled up beside them.

"Yeah, thanks," Tara echoed, offering Joel a reassuring smile.

Joel returned their smiles, though there was a hint of worry in his eyes. "No problem, girls," he said. "Just make sure to get home safely, okay?"

"We will," Sarah promised, giving Joel a quick hug before climbing into Tommy's car.

Tara followed suit, offering Joel a hug of her own before joining Sarah in the car. As they drove away, Tara couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for Joel's kindness and reliability, even in the face of unexpected challenges.

After the girls were out of sight, a voice interrupted Joel’s solitude.

“First, now, are you trying to steal my daughter too?”

That voice. Joel knew that voice that damn well, and he was getting exhausted from hearing it.

Joel's jaw clenched as he turned to face the source of the voice, his expression a mix of frustration and irritation. "Dwight," he said evenly, his voice tinged with disdain. "What are you doing here?"

Dwight's lips curled into a sneer as he approached Joel, his eyes flashing with anger. "I saw you with your little girl and my daughter," he spat. "Don't think I don't know what you're up to."

Dwight scoffed, his gaze cold and accusatory. "Right, like I'm supposed to believe that," he retorted. "You've been trying to worm your way into their lives ever since she came back and got to know my daughter.”

Joel's temper flared at the insinuation, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I care about Tara,” he said firmly. "And unlike you, I actually want what's best for her." He accused,” You saw her here, and you waited for her to go instead of saying hello to her, just to come up at me just like the pathetic loser you are.”

Joel's words struck a nerve with Dwight, his face contorting with anger. "You think you're better than me, huh?" He snarled, taking a menacing step closer to Joel. "You think you can just waltz in here and take over my daughter's life?"

Joel stood his ground, refusing to back down in the face of Dwight's aggression. "I'm not trying to take over anything," he said, his voice steady. "I just want to be there for Tara, to support her and care for her like she deserves."

Dwight scoffed, his fists clenched at his sides. "You don't know the first thing about being her father."

“And you do?” Joel asked, but the answer he received was Dwigth’s fist directly in his face.

As Dwight's fist connected with Joel's face, the impact sent a shockwave of pain through him. Joel stumbled backward, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch his throbbing eye. Anger flared in his eyes as he regained his balance, his jaw clenched tight.

"Is that how you fix your problems?" Joel growled, his voice laced with defiance. Despite the pain, he refused to let Dwight intimidate him. "You think you can just throw a punch and scare me off?"

Dwight's expression twisted into a snarl as he lunged forward again, this time hitting on Joel's jaw, causing him to bleed, but still, with a swift motion, Joel sidestepped Dwight’s attack, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back.

“I’m not going to hit you, not because I can't, but because I have respect for Tara,” Joel said, letting Dwight go from his hold.

Dwight's expression softened slightly, though suspicion lingered in his gaze. "You think you're some kind of hero, huh?" He muttered, rubbing his sore arm.

Joel shook his head, his expression serious. "I'm not a hero," he said.

Dwight regarded Joel for a moment longer before finally turning away, his footsteps heavy as he retreated. Joel watched him go, his jaw still throbbing from the impact of Dwight's punches on his face.

After receiving a call from Tommy about the altercation between Joel and Dwight, you knew you had to go check on Joel. Despite the late hour, you made your way to his house, your heart heavy with worry.

When you arrived, you felt an uneasiness before knocking on the door. When Joel appeared behind the door, you took a look at his appearance. His purple eye and swollen jaw made your stomach twist in pain.

His eyes softened at the sight of you, but the tension on his shoulder told you he wasn’t pleased at all.

“Who told you?” he asked, not a greeting, nor a hug, nor a kiss.

"Tommy,” you replied carefully, studying his subtle behavior.

As you spoke, Joel's expression tightened, mixed frustration and resignation crossing his features. He didn’t step aside, and he didn’t invite you into the house. He just stood there with a weary expression.

“Are you okay?” You asked again.

“Let’s see. I look like an idiot with this on my face; I can’t go to work like this, and I feel tired of your ex-husband.”

You winced at Joel's words, feeling the blame on his words. You couldn’t help but feel guilty; after all, Dwight had appeared in his life because of you. You wished you could take away all this, but you knew that wasn't possible. Instead, you feel small in front of him.

Feeling the weight of Joel's frustration, you took a step closer, wanting to offer him comfort despite feeling somewhat responsible for the situation. "I'm sorry," you said softly, your voice filled with genuine remorse. You lifted your hands to cup his face delicately, but Joel grabbed your wrists before you could feel his face on your palms.

Your breath left your lungs, and your heart sank.

You could feel the tension radiating from him; his eyes were dark and unreadable as they bore into yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the situation hanging heavily in the air.

"I appreciate your concern," Joel finally said, his voice strained. "But right now, I just need some space."

His words stung, a sharp pang of hurt shooting through you as you withdrew your hands from his grasp. You nodded silently, feeling a lump form in your throat as you struggled to contain your emotions.

"Are you putting the blame on me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You needed an answer before breaking down in front of him.

Joel's expression softened slightly at your question, his eyes flickering with a mixture of emotions. He hesitated for a moment before responding, his voice tinged with regret.

"No, I'm not blaming you," he replied, his tone softer now. "I just... I need some time to process everything that's happened."

You nodded, understanding his need for space but unable to shake off the hurt that lingered within you.

“Go home, Doe,” he whispered.

With a heavy heart, you nodded in response to Joel's words. His request for space was clear, and though it pained you to leave him in such a state, you knew that respecting his boundaries was crucial in this moment.

"Okay," you whispered back, your voice barely above a murmur. "Take care of yourself, Joel."

Turning away, you walked slowly back to your car, the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders. As you drove home, the silence of the car mirrored the heaviness in your heart, your thoughts consumed by the turmoil of emotions stirred up by the encounter with Joel.

It felt like the night he didn’t fight for you when you left him.

Arriving home with a heavy heart, tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you stepped through the door. Tara, ever-perceptive, noticed your somber expression immediately.

"Mom, what's wrong?" She asked, concern evident in her voice as she hurried to your side.

You tried to offer her a reassuring smile, but it faltered as the weight of the day's events pressed down on you.

"It's nothing, sweetheart," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "Just a long day."

Tara studied you for a moment, her gaze searching yours for any sign of what was truly bothering you. Seeing the unshed tears in your eyes, she wrapped you in a gentle hug, offering you the comfort of her presence.

"Is it about what dad did to Joel?” She asked, waiting for your answer.

Your heart ached at Tara's question; her perceptiveness never failed to astound you. You pulled back slightly from the embrace, meeting her concerned gaze with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

"How did you know?" you asked softly, impressed by her ability to see through you. 

Tara sighed, her expression filled with empathy. "Sarah”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you nodded, grateful for Tara's understanding. "Of course,” you said. “Yes, it's about that," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just feel so helpless, Tara. It’s all my fault for thinking we could be together again.”

“I don’t want you to say that ever again, mom,” Tara said, her tone clear enough.

Tara's words struck a chord deep within you, her unwavering support providing a glimmer of solace in the midst of your turmoil. You looked at her, your eyes brimming with tears, and felt a surge of gratitude for her strength and wisdom beyond her years.

"I'm sorry, Tara," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I just... I thought I could make things right, but instead, I've only caused more pain."

“I bet Joel wants space tonight, but that doesn’t mean anything bad.” She reassured me, “The way he looked at you, mom, He wouldn’t lose you over the prick of a father I have.”

Tara's words brought a small glimmer of hope to your heart; her unwavering faith in Joel's feelings for you offered a sense of reassurance in the midst of your doubts.

"Thank you, sweetheart," you said, your voice soft with gratitude. "I hope you're right. I just... I hate seeing him hurt because of me."

“He is not hurt because of you.”

Tara's reassurance was like a balm to your wounded soul, her unwavering belief in Joel's love for you providing a beacon of hope amidst the darkness of your doubts.

"You're right," you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "Thank you for reminding me of that, Tara. I needed to hear it."

As the night wore on, you found yourself tossing and turning in bed, unable to shake off the nagging feeling of unease that lingered within you. The thoughts of Joel consumed your mind, his bruised face haunting your thoughts.

Despite Tara's reassurances, you couldn't shake off the guilt that weighed heavily on your heart. The urge to reach out to Joel, to check on him and apologize for everything, gnawed at you relentlessly.

You glanced at the clock beside your bed, its hands ticking away the seconds of the sleepless night. With a heavy sigh, you reached for your phone, the temptation to call Joel becoming too strong to resist.

But as your fingers hovered over the dial button, doubt crept in. What if he needed space? What if he was still angry?

With a frustrated groan, you set your phone aside, resigning yourself to the torment of your thoughts. Sleep remained elusive, the weight of guilt and uncertainty pressing down on you like a leaden blanket.

Just as you resigned yourself to the torment of your thoughts, your phone vibrated with the arrival of a notification. With a flutter of anticipation, you reached for it, your heart racing with hope.

The message was from Joel.

Your breath caught in your throat as you read his words, a mix of relief and apprehension flooding through you.

“Are you awake?”

You typed out a simple "yes,” and just seconds later, he was calling you.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you answered Joel's call, the sound of his voice washing over you like a balm. "Hey," he said softly, his tone carrying a hint of weariness.

"Hey," you replied, unable to mask the relief in your voice.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Joel spoke again, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I just wanted to hear your voice," he admitted, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

A rush of warmth flooded through you at his confession, dispelling some of the tension that had been coiling in your chest. "I'm glad you called," you said softly, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "How are you feeling?"

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I just want to say sorry for the way I acted, and I wanted to remind you that I love you so much, Doe.”

"I love you too," you replied, your voice filled with tenderness. "More than you'll ever know."

“Go to sleep now, love,” he said, knowing you finally felt at ease. He would never repeat the same mistakes with you again.

The next day, you found yourself standing in front of Dwight's house, your heart pounding with a mix of apprehension and determination. You took a deep breath before raising your hand to knock on the door.

After a moment, the door swung open, revealing Dwight's girlfriend, his mistress. Her expression hardened when she saw you, and she spoke with a hint of disdain in her voice.

"My daughter is here," she stated bluntly, her tone bordering on hostility.

You held your gaze, refusing to be intimidated by her. "I didn't come for her," you replied evenly. "Where is Dwight?"

Her eyes narrowed at your question, and for a moment, she seemed to consider whether to answer. Finally, she stepped aside, allowing you to enter the house. "He's in the living room," she said tersely.

“Can you tell him to come outside?” you said, not showing emotion.

“Okay”

As Dwight stepped outside, closing the door behind him, you couldn't contain the surge of anger that coursed through you. Without a word, you lifted your hand and delivered a sharp slap across his face.

"Ouch, what the hell is wrong with you?" Dwight exclaimed, his hand instinctively rising to his stinging cheek.

"You know damn well what's wrong," you retorted, your voice laced with frustration and indignation.

Dwight's expression darkened, his eyes flashing with defiance. "I don't have to listen to this," he snapped, turning to walk away.

But you weren't finished. "Oh no, you're not getting away that easily." You grabbed him by the neck of his shirt. 

As Dwight attempted to walk away, you couldn't let him escape so easily. Fueled by anger and frustration, you moved swiftly, grabbing him by the neck of his shirt to prevent him from leaving.

His eyes widened in surprise as you held him firmly, your grip tight and unwavering. "Let me go!" he growled, struggling against your hold.

You tightened your grip, refusing to back down. "No," you replied firmly, your voice dripping with determination. "We're going to have this conversation, whether you like it or not."

“Listen to me now. Joel didn’t press charges against you, but I will if you don’t stop acting like this.” Your grip on his shirt left him speechless. “I’m tired of you trying to ruin my happiness when you know damn well what you did, and not only that, but acting like a bully when you’re pushing your 40s is pathetic; you may be older than me but not wiser.”

Dwight's eyes narrowed as he listened to your words, a mixture of anger and resentment flashing across his face. Despite his attempts to break free, your grip remained firm, holding him in place.

“Are you threatening me?” he spat.

You met his glare with steely resolve, feeling fury and disgust towards that man. "I'm not trying to dictate anything," you replied, your tone unwavering. "I'm simply telling you how it's going to be if you don't change your behavior."

He didn’t say a word, inviting you to continue.

“Tara doesn’t want to see you, but I told her you’re her father, and what happened between us should define her relationship with you, but if you ever pull a stunt like this again, I’ll make sure you will never see her,” you stated firmly, your voice leaving no room for argument. "I won't hesitate to protect myself and my family from your toxicity, so you will take a step away for a while; you will change your behavior and start acting like a man; and once you’re ready to be a father, you call me, and we can arrange a meeting with Tara.”

He gulped. “Okay.”

His shoulders slumped slightly, and he averted his gaze, seemingly unable to meet your eyes.

"Fine," he muttered, his voice lacking its usual bravado. "I'll stay away... for now."

You nodded, not entirely convinced of his sincerity but determined to hold him to his word. "Good," you said firmly. "And remember, this is your chance to make things right. Don't waste it." You paused, “Now I want you to get on your knees and promise me you will never go for Joel like that.”

As you waited for Dwight's response, he hesitated for a moment, his expression conflicted. But eventually, he let out a heavy sigh and slowly sank to his knees before you, a begrudging acknowledgment of your authority in this situation.

"I promise," he muttered, his voice strained with reluctance. "I won't go after Joel like that again."

You watched him carefully, your gaze unwavering, as you waited for him to finish his vow. Once he had spoken the words, you nodded, satisfied that he understood the gravity of his promise.

"Good," you said firmly, your tone leaving no room for doubt. “Go to be happy with the family you choose; you have the chance to be a good father for that little girl of yours. And you will let me be happy with a daughter and the man I love.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, ashamed for the first time, but you didn't want to buy his act so easily yet.

You observed him silently, your resolve unwavering as you awaited his apology. When he finally spoke, offering a half-hearted sorry, you shook your head.

"Say sorry when you mean it," you replied firmly, your tone leaving no room for ambiguity. "And remember your promise."

With that, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving Dwight kneeling on the ground behind you, you were determined to protect your family and ensure that Dwight stayed true to his word.

When you returned to your apartment, your heart skipped a beat as you noticed Joel standing by the door, a concerned look etched on his face. His eyes softened when he saw you, and he took a step forward, his expression filled with worry.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, stepping back at the sight of him, still carrying the colored traces of Dwight’s fist on his face.

“I wanted to see you, but nobody opened the door, so I was leaving,” he said, his voice laced with concern as he noticed a somber demeanor on you.

“Yes, Tara wanted to spend the day with my mom, so she left earlier and I was doing something,” you informed, stepping forward to open the door.

Joel followed you inside, his gaze lingering on your face with a mix of concern and curiosity. You could feel the weight of his gaze, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what was troubling you.

"Is everything alright?" he asked softly.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal about your encounter with Dwight. But seeing the genuine concern in Joel's eyes, you knew you could trust him with the truth.

"Not really," you admitted, your voice tinged with frustration. "I went to Dwight's.”

Joel's expression darkened at the mention of Dwight's name, his jaw tightening with anger. "Did he hurt you?" he asked, his tone low and dangerous.

You shook your head, offering him a small smile to reassure him. "No, nothing like that.” You paused, “It was actually me who slapped him on the face.”

Joel's eyes widened slightly in surprise at your revelation. "You slapped him?" he echoed.

You nodded, feeling a surge of empowerment at the memory of standing up to Dwight. "Yeah," you confirmed, with a hint of pride in your voice. "He had it coming."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Joel's lips. "I wish I could have seen that," he said, a touch of amusement in his tone.

You laughed softly at his comment, “Well, we also talked, mostly me, and I think it's all okay.”

Joel's smile softened at your words, his eyes reflecting his relief. "I'm glad to hear that," he said sincerely, pulling you into a comforting embrace. "You're incredibly brave, you know that?"

You leaned into his embrace, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “I’m not”

“Yes, you’re. You stood by yourself, and that’s always brave,” he reminded you, pulling back slightly. He cupped your face in his hands and met your gaze with all the love dancing in his eyes.

You smiled at him, lifting your hand to caress his face, where his eye was still bruised as a violet. Your heart ached for him, for love, and for the memories he always brought with him.

"This reminds me of something,” you murmured softly, your voice filled with a tint of amusement at the memory.

He chuckled softly, a fond smile playing on his lips as he recalled the same thought in his mind. “And I always get the girl,” he said.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as Joel's words echoed the sentiment you were about to share. "Yes, you do," you replied, your voice laced with affection. "But don't think you can use those puppy eyes to get out of trouble every time."

He stole a kiss from your lips and pressed his forehead against yours. "I still have the ring," he whispered.

Your heart skipped a beat at Joel's words, a rush of warmth flooding through you as you gazed into his eyes.

“Then, ask me,” you whispered back, your voice filled with love and certainty. You didn’t care about rushing things anymore; you knew that, for a marvelous reason, what had made you separate for thirteen years was the same reason that brought you back together, this time older and wiser, and you wanted to dive in, not hold back anymore.

Joel's eyes widened slightly in surprise at your words, his breath catching in his throat as he processed the depth of your request. But beneath the surprise, there was a glimmer of joy and a spark of hope that ignited in his eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched your eyes for any hint of hesitation.

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips as you met his gaze with unwavering determination. "I've never been surer of anything in my life," you replied, your voice filled with conviction.

“Well, I don’t have the ring with me right now,” he warned, embarrassed.

Your smile widened at Joel's words; his concern about the ring only added a touch of genuine joy to this. "That's okay," you reassured him, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand.

“I’m doing this anyway,” he said, getting on one knee and causing you to chuckle, hiding the emotion in your throat.

As Joel kneeled before you, your heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and joy. Despite the playful chuckle and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over, you allow him to continue.

"Will you marry me, Doe?"

a/n part 2: Before someone says the last part may be stupid, let's clarify this is fiction.

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @missladym1981 @yomiyasxx @aliengirl99 @lola8888673 @nottodaysattan @picketniffler @violinchick @sadgirlcheesecake @caitlynsixxx @luvwanda @sarahhxx03

[notmorbid]

cuckoo.

dialogue prompts from cuckoo by gretchen felker-martin.

i've never liked my daughter.

something in my life, in my home, is very wrong.

are you going to cry now?

can i do anything to make it up to you?

you have every right not to trust me.

i just want to stop hurting you.

it's okay if you can't believe me.

it's so easy not to trust success when we've grown used to failure.

our hearts want what's familiar.

you think i'm that shallow?

you weren't supposed to follow me.

am i dead? did i have a stroke?

i bet you're pretty angry right now.

this is something that happens in horror movies.

you don't want to try so you won't be able to fail.

i don't want to have to be brave.

my grandma says i don't know when to shut up. i guess she's right.

i hope that bite gets infected.

you're like a cat. you only want what you can't have.

you think the world owes you something just for waking up.

there's something cold between my mother and me. something ugly.

___ doesn't love me. doesn't love any of us.

hey, you okay?

what, are you gonna narc?

this is real. it really happened.

something's really wrong. i'm not crazy.

i wish i looked like you.

have you been having nightmares?

i don't know how, but we have to get out.

something bad is happening. something is wrong.

it was nice to forget, for a minute.

what do you know about surviving on your own?

hoping for anything better is just daydreaming.

i'm going to become someone you can be proud of.

what happened to you out there?

i'll give you my address. we can keep in touch.

being tough doesn't mean shit. it won't save you.

you'll never be alone again.

am i dead? is this hell?

take a walk.

this seems like a sad place.

this is how people die in horror movies.

it feels like someone is watching me.

it felt like the kind of thing good people were supposed to do.

you said i'm brave, so i must be brave.

i want to be nailed to a cross and burned. and i want everyone to think how beautiful i look, and how sorry they are.

don't worry. i'll show you how i like it,

are you here with me? is this real?

i'm here with you. i'm here.

everything feels like it's moving too fast.

living means making sense of what happened.

you're the tom cruise of fucking up.

i would have done anything. believed anything.

what would you do with my face? my life?

aren't you tired of being afraid?

go. i'm right behind you.

aren't you tired of being so strong for everyone?

i told you i wasn't lying.

nothing will ever feel normal again.

it felt like you were with me.

if you don't have anything useful to say, just shut up.

can you do anything but run your mouth?

are you going to finish that?

i can practically hear you blushing.

do you like me? i honestly can't tell.

i'm sorry i couldn't protect you.

what did they do to you?

feels like you don't want to see me.

do you have a lot of thoughts like that?

you have me confused with someone else.

fuck you. i've got my own problems.

it wasn't a dream. i can't pretend anymore.

you're not going to hurt me. we're the same.

do you even care how i feel?

are you going to start crying now?

trouble in pussy paradise?

you look like a movie star.

you look so different.

what if the drugs don't work?

smoking is a dirty habit.

nobody cares. no one is coming.

you really haven't changed that much, have you?

i didn't want to come, and i still don't want to be here.

how did you do this alone for so long?

no credit cards. we can't leave a trail.

it's like picking glass out of bathwater.

i'm so sorry. for everything.

do you think we have a chance?

would you ever try again? with me?

i keep thinking of you. i'm always thinking of you.

if i die, no one will miss me.

we bring out the best in each other, when we aren't ruining each other's lives.

i'm so scared, i'm not even angry anymore.

people are dead because of me.

we're all going to die, aren't we?

i can feel it. they're close now.

it wants us alive.

let's start some fires.

i love you. be good.

i'll take you home, if that's what you want.

i can't sleep in the city.

[doumadono]

Hii!! I wanna send an emergency request and I'm sorry if it's too much or anything but a week ago it was my birthday and the exact same day my grandma passed away. My grandma is one of the people dearest and close to me so losing her,especially on my birthday, It hurts alot. My birthday wasn't happy that day, usually my grandma would bake me a cake and my favorite foods that would always bring me joy and now it's gone, she's gone and I can't do anything about it but accept. I was wondering if you could do Katsuki comforting gn!reader? I really appreciate if you do. 💕

"Lean on me" - Bakugo x gn!Reader

A/N: I’m so so sorry for your loss. Your grandma sounds like an incredible person who brought so much joy to your life. It’s okay to grieve and miss her deeply. Hold on to those cherished memories and allow yourself to feel all the emotions

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, casting the dorm room in a gentle twilight. The only sound was the soft rustling of pages turning as you sat curled up on the sofa, trying to distract yourself with a book. Yet, the words blurred together, your mind too occupied with the heavy weight of grief to focus.

Your birthday had always been a day of joy, a day filled with laughter, homemade cakes, and your grandma's warm embrace. But this year, the day had taken a cruel turn. The news of her passing still echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of the irreplaceable loss you had suffered.

A gentle knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts. Before you could respond, the door creaked open, and Katsuki Bakugo, your classmate, walked in. "Hey, nerd," he said, his voice gruff yet unusually gentle. "Mind if I join you?"

You nodded, managing a small, grateful smile as he settled beside you.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

"I know today was supposed to be different," Katsuki began, his voice low and steady. "And I know it hurts like hell. Losing someone you love, especially like this... It's not something you just get over, goddammit."

You glanced up at him, surprised by the depth of understanding in his words.

Katsuki had always been tough, sometimes even abrasive, but in this moment, he was showing a side of himself you rarely saw.

"I don't have any magic words to make it better," he continued, his eyes meeting yours. "But I can tell you this - it's okay to feel like crap. It's okay to miss her, to cry, to be angry. You're allowed to feel everything you're feeling."

A tear rolled down your cheek, and Katsuki reached out, brushing it away with surprising gentleness. "She loved you. And she wouldn't want you to be alone right now."

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat, and more tears streamed down your flushed cheeks.

"Remember the good times," your friend said softly. "The way she smiled, the way she made you laugh. Keep those memories close. They don't replace her, but they can help you carry on."

His words were like a balm to your aching heart. You leaned into him, finding solace in his warmth and strength while you choked yourself on your own tears. "It's not fair!"

Katsuki wrapped an arm around you, holding you close as you let the tears flow freely. "I know, Y/N. But I'm here for you," he murmured. "Not just today, but every goddamn day. Whatever you need, whenever you need it. Just tell me, yeah?"

For a while, you simply sat there, finding comfort in Katsuki's steady presence. The pain of your loss was still there, a deep, aching void, but his support made it a little more bearable.

Eventually, the tears subsided, leaving you feeling exhausted but a little lighter. You looked up at Katsuki, offering him a small, grateful smile. "Thanks," you whispered. "I just hope I'll be able to... You know... To go through this."

"You're strong, and you'll get through this, no doubt here. And I'll be right here with you, little nerd. And you can always lean on me."