#you will never convince me or change my mind about elvis i don't like that man

[robotpussy]

like ok he said hes not the one who created rock and roll. ok cool. he still profited off of doing exactly what black people were doing and i know its not his fault he got to the status he did but its not wrong to point that out. ok that doesn't directly make him racist but it is one instance of appropriation that was one of the beginnings of a long line of nonblack musicians profiting off of black people

[elvisabutler]

should have worshipped her sooner

summary: you are known around campus as a bit a harlot when it comes to sleeping with professors. it's a title you have earned rightfully but you want to change that. as a last hurrah your friend convinces you to go for professor presley, a man you've admired from afar. things go unexpectedly for both of you. fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m overall, but this part is a high t i think. pairing: professor! elvis presley ( big daddy flavor ) x student! female reader word count: 8420 i don't even know warnings: big daddy elvis. elvis using a walking stick/cane. use of a cane to startle people. mild fantasizing about the cane. implied praise kink. student and professor relationship ( everyone are of legal age ). religious talk. power kink/title kink? elvis being ill enough to miss class. unrequited love that would be requited if people just opened up their mouths. author's note: so welcome to the beginning part of the my heart's already sinned, there's a final part after this where it has the happy ending that i promise i'm giving these two but i'm not quite done with it so welcome to the thing that started these two being- the way they were in the fic i linked. special thanks everyone who has listened to me scream about these two, y'all know who you are. and i kind of tagged anyone who reblogged this/left a comment on the last one sorry if you didn't want to be tagged but i at least promise the smut for the last part is- a beast and i wrap it up in a nice bow. and y'all know the drill, pick your elvis poison, this is written with real elvis in mind but you can imagine austin elvis.

"I'm just saying it'd be a waste to not try this last time. I get it, I support you and I'm proud of you. But you're- if anyone could sleep with Professor Presley, it would probably be you. I'd bet good money, we could win good money." Noelle says, brandishing her fork at you over dinner. "I could see you and him getting along."

You roll your eyes at her antics before glaring at her with a mouthful of your food. You swallow before shaking head. "Of course, because the religious studies professor who everyone knows goes for women who are not going to our school and who is pretty religious himself would go for me, the "Tour Guide" for the school. I could definitely see it."

Normally your sarcasm would clue Noelle into dropping it but she can't help but continue her line of thought. "That's why, though. You're not his type, though we both know you love taking orders from someone big and strong. And you and both know how big and strong you think he is."

"I told you that with the idea that you wouldn't use it against me." You whine, poking her with your fork. "If I agree to this, if I agree to try, will you never mention it again?"

There's a moment where your friend debates whether or not she wants to agree to the terms before she nods solemnly. "I'll bury my knowledge of you liking Professor Presley and any other professors who are big and strong deep within me. As long as you tell me if you do manage to sleep with him. Just for my own selfish desire."

You can't help the way your lips purse but you nod anyway. "Deal."

Seeing Professor Presley up close, breathing in his scent as he walks by is something entirely different than seeing him from afar, seeing him from across the way, talking to the selected group of other professors from varying different departments that he dubbed his Memphis Mafia. Did it matter that not everyone was from Memphis? No. Did it matter that technically speaking neither was Professor Presley himself? Also no, because they had come to Tennessee and fell right into the lap of someone who from what rumors say is practically a King in Memphis. He was imposing enough from afar, capable of commanding his group like it was nothing but in person? In the same room as you with his eyes flitting around the still empty classroom? That was another thing entirely, that was the universe narrowing its focus to just this room, to just this part of the room where you're sitting in a dress jotting down a note- or ten- in your planner. The tap of his cane gives him away even as you don't look up and it's perhaps for the best because if you had looked up your reaction to Professor Presley might not have been as chaste as it is. After all, how is a woman supposed to react to someone looking at you like you're some priceless religious tome- like you're more beautiful than every angel in heaven or any god or goddess in any religion especially when most people on campus have never seen that look on Professor Presley.

He stops in front of you, tapping his cane once on the ground and clears his throat. "Pretty early for class, aren't ya? One of those overachievers?"

Your first instinct, the one that you have to tamp down on when you look up is to roll your eyes and try and say something cute. Something charming to rope him in like you've done with so many other professors. What you do instead is look up at him with a small smile. "Something like that." Not at all like that, if he asked anyone else. "And I wanted to get a good seat. I know in classes like this a lot of people take al the good ones if you don't stake your claim first. Is it a problem, Mr. Presley?"

Elvis lets out a short whistle that sounds more like him saying whew than anything else before he starts to laugh, shaking his head. "Now I know ya ain't calling me Mr. Presley like ya talkin' to my daddy. Know I ain't a spring chicken no more, but ya gotta way of takin' a man down a peg wit' that."

Almost as if you can't control your body, your head tilts a little as you raise an eyebrow. "What do you want me to call you, then? Professor Presley?"

Elvis's leg and cock twitches at his title slipping from your lips as if you're just casually reading off a menu or a list of ingredients. Never in his life has he thought being referred to as his title was arousing and yet there you were having him react like that. He shakes his head and licks at his lips before answering. "Elvis." He pauses to exhale quietly. "Call me Elvis."

You blink once and a slow gentle smile crosses your lips. "Elvis." It feels surprisingly right leaving your mouth, feels surprisingly right being on your tongue. "In that case, is me choosing a seat a problem, Elvis?"

It was a mistake to have you call him by his God given name, oh it was a mistake because now he knows how it sounds rolling off your tongue. Knows how the angel standing in front of him, this sweet girl that he knows isn't what she seems, sounds saying his name. He wants to hear it more, he is- he knows he shouldn't but there is something about the way the syllables fall from her lips that sound like a hymn, the musicality he only ever hears in them falling from her lips. He'd call you a siren if he didn't know any better but no, no you're something else entirely. A moment passes before he answers, trying to tamp down on the arousal he feels in his veins at your use of his name, innocent as it may have been.

"It is, darlin', because that's not where I planned on ya sittin'. A girl like ya in the middle of my class? Tryin' to hide from me? That won't do at all." He lifts up his cane and uses it to rap against the chair two rows in front of you. It's a seat in a spot you hate, at the end of the row and smack dab right in front of the podium. Even though you were planning on trying to charm him throughout the semester and you planned on paying attention in class the idea of being right there in front of everyone made you feel a little self conscious for some reason. "Front row, right there. Up n'at 'em."

You look up at him through your eyelashes and pout just a little bit before you gather your items and your bag, standing up and walking to the aforementioned seat. There's a part of you that wants to turn around, wants to be a little childish and stick your tongue out at him but while you've heard that Professor Presley- Elvis was a bit of a child at heart, something tells you he'd prefer the show of respect and so you resist. Instead you choose to just go back to what you were doing originally, thinking that perhaps he was done talking to you. You hardly register the tap of his cane on the floor approaching you yet again, and what part of your brain does assumes he's heading to the front of the classroom before you feel the warmth of his hand against your shoulder. On top of your shoulder, really, the sheer size of his hand making it so that the heat emanating from it feels like a fire licking at your skin. You swear you hear your heartbeat roaring in your ears and feel it rushing through your body and your head. Despite this or perhaps because of it, your brain narrows to just you and Elvis and your ears that aren't hearing a single other thing in the room at the present time can hear the words leaving his mouth.

"That's a good girl." His voice practically rumbles against you and you know he's not pressed up against you, there's no reason you should swear that you can feel the vibration of his words and yet here you were. "Doin' what you're told." He pauses. "Be prepared f'me to call on ya today."

You don't realize when your eyes shut of their own volition until you have to force them to open at his question. Part of the reason you had chosen your seat was to really study Elvis in his class setting properly without him being able to really study you back or accuse you of being distracted, but here you were being thrust into his view and under his constant attention. You swallow slowly and exhale. "I-Are you prepared to hear my answers to what you ask?"

There's a moment where you swear you see or maybe you feel Elvis bending closer to you, to maybe brush his mouth against your ear. You know you're imagining it though, knowing he wouldn't be that close to your neck and the shell of your ear. "Darlin', don't think 've ever been more prepared for somethin' in m'life. 'sides, curious what's inside that head of yours."

A smile crosses your lips, small but still ever present before you respond. "Careful what you wish for, Elvis. Might live to regret giving me a challenge."

"Regret giving ya a challenge?" He moves to be in front of you, trying to walk to the front of the room before he looks back at you his eyes dancing with something you'd like to call amusement before he shakes his head. "Doubt it, if anything you might become my favorite student because of it."

There's a rush of heat that runs through your body at those words and you find yourself biting your lower lip and looking down, bashful and yet thoroughly delighted. You open your mouth to say something only to realize he's not paying attention any more, that he's already moved to the bottom where his podium is and you take that to be a sign you should get back to your other notes. The moment you bury yourself into them, looking down instead of looking up at him, he allows himself to stare at you, thanking God you had to take his class this semester.

Your class goes by faster than you'd like and you find yourself marveling at how he's commanding the room with everyone actually paying full attention even as they take notes. True to his word he calls on you multiple times and you find that seeing how his mouth splits into a grin and how he seems to have a bit more of a pep in his step as he moves to the next point after you provide a bit of debate with him. Elvis has always supposedly had a way of making a mildly boring subject to most be a rather boisterous and entertaining class but if anyone who had his class before were to see him today- hell- if any of the Mafia had seen this class today they'd wonder what he took to have all the energy he has.

The next class is a few days later and you remember what Elvis had said, that he assigns his seats and that he had specifically picked out your seat for you. A thought crosses your head to sit in a different seat but after that first class you find you enjoy where he put you, find that it fits your plans for the semester but it also makes you feel watched by him versus watched by everyone else, which was the reason you had avoided it in the first place. Elvis is running a bit late to class that day, he's still there before it starts but there's more people in the room and you barely hear the tap of his cane before you feel his warm hand on your shoulder and you swear you feel the heat from the rest of his body against your back as he leans over to you, his voice pitched low and rumbling in a way that has you shivering just slightly, your eyes fluttering shut as images of him speaking to you like that as you roll together among his sheets before you open your eyes.

"Glad to see you where you're supposed to be, Y/N." He murmurs and you swear you can hear the hint of a smile in his tone before you shake your head in an attempt to clear it. "Better than everyone else around here."

"You assigned the seat and I'm good at following directions when I want to." You answer, clenching your pen just a little bit tighter in an effort to keep yourself from doing anything stupid. You had a plan forming in your head for how you wanted this to go and falling for him- falling immediately into his arms wasn't how you wanted it to go in the slightest. "I wanted to for you, Elvis."

You swear you feel or maybe you hear Elvis growl a little at your words and it has your toes curling in your boots just a little. Against your will you shiver just a bit and when Elvis speaks you can definitely hear a smile in his tone as he squeezes your shoulder. "Oughta get a jacket, darlin'." He removes his hand and you bite your lower lip to keep a noise from escaping, knowing you're around people before you hear the rustle of fabric and then feel the the warmth of fabric and the scent of Elvis- at least you think it's his scent- envelop you as you look down and see a jacket that is not your own around your shoulders. You open your mouth, turning around to say something before he shakes his head, motioning for you to put it on properly, not just have it draped around your shoulders "Use it for right now. Just gotta give it back after class. Hate to have you distracted because you're cold."

There's words on the tip of your tongue but they're jumbled up the second you look at Elvis and see him without the jacket, his shirt tailored enough that the buttons don't rebel against any part of his waist or chest and you merely nod, swallowing your spit as to not drool. You had already found Professor Presley attractive from afar and you had already planned on trying to sleep with him but this- oh this might be a genuine problem. You're not used to this, you're used to the men being sweet maybe but not- like this and not after such a short period of time. By the time Elvis has turned around, ready to start the class you find yourself burrowing into his jacket, hugging it tightly to your chest. You don't bother to look up at him until he calls on you, unsure if you want to see just how he feels about you wearing his jacket but when you do look, you find yourself relieved and a little put out that he doesn't seem to care about you wearing it. Almost as if he had offered it to you with the intention of just keeping you warm with no strings attached and nothing behind the action. It's not an unwelcome concept just entirely new. By the end of class you find that his jacket around you has relaxed you, made you a little more bolder than you already are and it appears to be lighting a fire in Elvis's eyes that spurs you on even more. You wait until the class has dispersed other than the two of you before you make your way down to the podium, your books in your bag. You've made no motion to actually take off Elvis's jacket and when he notices his heart stops in his chest. He thinks you look good in his jacket, thinks you look like you belong wearing his clothes and he has to look away for a moment, leaning on his cane before he exhales.

"Do ya want to come to my office?" He starts, allowing one of his hands to play with the lapel of the jacket. "We had to cut our debate short so everyone else could have a chance but-"

"I'd love to." Your answer comes so quickly out of your mouth and so eagerly that both of you look a little startled by it before you both start to laugh. "Sorry- I meant-"

He shakes his head, moving to smooth out the shoulder of his jacket. "Don't apologize. Not for bein' excited like that. It's- People like my class, darlin' but not usually like this. It's nice to see. Helps me- I enjoy it, alright? Don't even dream of being sorry 'bout it. Just walk with me to the office, alr'ght?"

You nod and start to follow him. Maybe it's because he usually takes his time when he heads into class but you're prepared for one speed as far as walking goes only to realize you're more behind than you mean to be before you've even crossed the threshold of the classroom. It's easy to catch up though and you find yourself just talking to Elvis about the debate you had been having with him, keeping your passion in check as to not alarm anyone passing by but still proving to be enough of a spitfire that Elvis can't help but have a huge grin on his face as he fires back his own responses. More than once his eyes drift to his jacket, not that you notice too busy hugging it just a little closer to your body for the warmth but the surprising comfort you find it brings. The pair of you reach his office quicker than either of you expect as he unlocks the door and ushers you in. A part of you wonders if this is it, if this is him just bringing you in here like every professor ever has after you've charmed them only to have sex and be done with it. He motions to the couch for you to sit on as he moves the chair out from behind his desk to relax in it across from you, his eyes glinting with unashamed delight. "Lay it on me, Y/N. Tell me what ya were really thinkin' in class."

The grin that breaks out on your face is one of unabashed joy that has Elvis's heart stuttering in his chest for a moment before you launch into a tirade that has him laughing loud enough that the professors in the rooms beside him take note and the members of his mafia who are about to come see him stop at the door before turning around, figuring interrupting whatever that is can wait. it's not that Elvis hasn't laughed like that in a while but- they forgot what it was like to hear him laugh like that when he wasn't with them and hearing your laugh follow suit as he talks they realize it's best to not interrupt. You're a bit late for your next class as you lose track of time but when you finally do leave the room you make move to take off the jacket only to have Elvis's hand stop you.

"Keep it. Got a dozen like it at my house. Won't miss that one." He pauses before he shrugs. "'Sides, you look good in blue."

Your breath catches in your throat as you try and speak, try and tell him that you can't keep his jacket before a baser part of you, a part of you in the back of your mind wants to let him lay the claim on you. That's what you want, right? To have him want you enough to fall into bed with him and maybe you get to keep a trophy for once to go along with the one you'd leave him. His eyes rake over you for a second before he opens the door and motions you out. "Go on, out ya go, just tell 'em I kept ya real late. They'll understand, I can talk an ear off."

A nod is the only thing you manage as you leave, risking a glance back at him and seeing nothing but him closing the door. You think you hear him say something like "lord have mercy" but you figure you imagined it.

And so it goes throughout the semester, you wearing his jacket on certain days you see him, finding yourself in his office practically every day after class with the only exception being the occasional days you had plans in between his class and your other one. It becomes an integral part of your life, arguing with him in class as you take notes and arguing with him in his office in between sips of Pepsi and coffee and finding out more and more about him as a person. Noelle tries to press about how things are going- noting how you seem happier than she's ever seen you in an attempt to sleep with a professor. There's a thought you have to tell her, to pick her brain on if this is what a normal progression to something more as an adult is supposed to be but you find yourself wanting to keep whatever it is you're nurturing with Elvis a secret even if half of his Memphis Mafia has come in to see you grinning on his desk or him laughing with you on the couch. Their knowing looks say it all but you don't pay any mind for once and Elvis- well he does command them for a reason. Both of you are so used to each other's company that when you leave his office one day you can't help but notice he's looking a little more tired than normal and you find yourself frowning before you leave, your hand moving to cup his face with the sleeve of his suit jacket just covering your hand.

"Are you feeling alright? You look-" Worn out, tired, sick are all the words that come to mind before you settle on a single word. "Exhausted."

Unbidden, Elvis nuzzles into your hand, his eyes shutting momentarily before pulling away, realizing what he's doing. "'m fine. See ya after m'next class?"

Your frown deepens before you exhale as you nod. "Always. Get some rest, though, Elvis. Can't have you letting me win because you're tired."

"Never." His chuckle is soft before he shuts the door, leaning on it for a second before he moves to the couch to just take a nap. What you don't know is that Jerry and Joe find him after he misses his next class to teach and that they take him home, setting him up to rest before leaving.

Finding out that Elvis isn't there for the next class feels as if someone has dumped a bucket of ice water on you. Sure it's a little chillier outside now, but that has nothing to do with the cold that seeps into your bones and has you hugging his jacket closer to you. You're not- You shouldn't be worried about him the way you are, you think. He's just your professor and while he's proven to be the nicest person and has proven to be so much more in general this isn't what you're supposed to do with a professor. This isn't- you know better, because they've always got a wife or a girlfriend or you're just the fling for the semester but it feels- you feel different with Elvis. Sometimes in his office you just do your work for other classes, enjoying the company of someone who you can talk to so easily after an invigorating time in his actual class. He never seems to mind, never makes a move to kick you out, instead choosing to kick back on his couch and read some text for the lesson plan for next week, occasionally asking you if you think he should tweak the plan. You had told him to tweak this week's plan about two weeks ago and you had been excited to see what he was going to do with it only to find him not here, instead a substitute- you think it might be Joe from the Memphis Mafia stepping in. You know this isn't his area of expertise, but you figure maybe he's one of the few people Elvis trusts to teach his class.

It goes by fine enough with a paper being assigned to make up for the fact that Elvis wasn't there. You find yourself wondering if he's alright, worrying if he's sick as you hear whispers from your classmates about the status of his health because "he had this problem last semester didn't he" and "not surprised, we've all seen how he is coming into class". You feel like you should have noticed something was up and done more to help before you realize you couldn't have because there's some things Elvis keeps close to his chest. The thoughts that run through your mind and envelop it to the point where before you realize it you find yourself at his office door, completely forgetting that he's not there- that he's not here for you to talk to. Once again you hug his jacket closer to you, sniffling as you head to your apartment before your next class. He- He'll have to be there for the class after this one. You just had to wait a couple of days to see him.

Those two days feel like some of the longest ones in your life, Noelle notices the change in your mood and asks if it has anything to do with the lack of Professor Presley today. Your answer- or lack thereof give her the only confirmation she needs before pulling you into a hug. She doesn't press beyond that, choosing to distract you with tales of how stupid everyone else is as the hours tick by until that Friday. You've got on one of your own jackets, choosing to leave behind his at your apartment just in case he isn't there again. As you put on the finishing touches to your paper you hear the tap of his cane and a tension you didn't realize was within your shoulders dissipates, causing them to droop down just a little before you feel his warm hand against your shoulder and his breath against your ear.

"Glad to see you where you're supposed to be." His voice is tired and tight but you can still hear the warmth and the rumble you like to think he only reserves for you.

"Always. Even when you're not here." You answer, turning a little try and look up at him before he shakes his head and mouths the word later to you as he slowly makes his way to the podium. He sits on the chair, a true rarity that has a few gasps including your own erupt from the class before he waves you all off.

"Stomach bug, still feeling a little off. Don't get used to it." He says before launching into the lesson plan a little more subdued than normal but still with enough vigor that the class barely misses a beat.

When it ends you see him still just sitting on the stool before he moves to get up with a grunt as you stand in front of him. "I owe you a meetin' don't I? Last class of the day, right?"

You nod, smiling softly. "You know my schedule too well, Elvis. Last class. So I can be in the office as long as I'd like. If you're not too-"

"Don't ya accuse me of being too tired, Y/N." He starts to walk to the door and motions for you to follow him. "'m older than you all. Can't always bounce back as quick. 'll be fine come Monday. Provided I can get through all these papers Joe decided on assigning y'all."

There's a response at the tip of your tongue that you swallow until you reach his office, watching as he flops onto the couch, his bag falling next to him and his cane following suit. You make sure to not startle him and sit on the coffee table in front of him, your hands moving to touch his knees as you speak. "I could help you with them. The papers I mean. I've- I'm pretty light on my classwork this weekend so I don't mind."

His eyes dart around your face, trying to find a lie in what you've said only to come up with nothing. You're being genuine in wanting to help him and that has a rush of fire traveling from his chest to every part of his body. He's gotten used to women he dates not necessarily caring the way you are right now. Not for the first time since his first class with you he finds himself falling more for you than he already was. It almost makes him feel like a younger man again, makes him feel like that young man tripping over his words with girls while also making him feel like that young man who had girls falling all over themselves for him because of his hips. He sees your face morphing into one of regret before he nods. "If- If you don't mind spendin' a while wit' me 'll definitely take the help."

A smile crosses your features as you grab his bag and start to pull out the papers, splitting the first pile out between the two of you and leaving the room to grab you both Pepsis. He watches you leave and exhales slowly rubbing his face with his hand, praying to every god he knew that he could keep himself in check with you acting so helpful near him like this. When you come back there's a moment where he's about to say something before he stops himself, allowing himself to just focus on the papers, kicking up his feet on the couch while you take his desk. His door is locked as to prevent interruptions and you both find that time passes by quicker than it does when you have conversations. He yawns, looking at the time to see that it's about 5PM and curses to himself. You had been there for five hours with him with no real break. Sparing a glance at you he sees that you're leaning your head on one hand and chewing a red pen with the other. The image of the pen entering your mouth has his cock showing a slight bit of interest before he shifts in his seat and coughs to get your attention.

"Y/N. It's gettin' late you- I'm plannin' on headin' home, 'less you wanna come wit' me, why don't ya just-"

You wave him away with a flap of your hand. "I'll come with you, just let me finish this one. I'm almost done." You pause and look up. "I- I don't have to come home with you."

He should tell you that you shouldn't come home with him and that if you did he didn't trust himself to not do something stupid but something about the way you sounded so earnest made him stop. He was a grown man, he could stop himself from being stupid with you. He could stop himself from pulling you in for a kiss and taking you to bed. He could resist the urge to do all those things, after all, wasn't he already? "I offered, darlin'. Just hurry up."

It takes you longer than you admit to finish looking over the paper as you keep getting distracted by looking at Elvis off and on. Watching him clean up his office just a bit before you finally finish and he whisks you away to his car a black cadillac that you feel fits him surprisingly well. The car ride is quiet and you both don't dare to look at the other for fear of saying something you might regret later. There's a thought in the back of your mind to make a move- that this would be the perfect time to make a move but you stomp down on that thought, knowing that this isn't right. This can't be the right time, not right after he's come back sick and looking haggard. No, you can wait just a little longer. Especially once you see just how big his house is. Honestly, you'd define it as a mansion if you're being one thousand percent honest but it's his as he casually reminds you as he opens the door for you to exit the car.

"Home sweet home." He pauses. "I have a lot of guests over and- the rooms help for them."

"I wasn't going to ask." You whisper, taking in the sights of everything as you enter the house.

Elvis tells you to get settled in the living room where you find a record player and a sea of records nearby. You know that sometimes Elvis like to incorporate gospel into his classes but these records aren't just gospel. In fact some of them are his records. Your ears hear Elvis's cane even as it's muffled by his carpet in the room and you can't help but ask the first question that comes to mind the longer you stare at the records.

"You used to do music?" You ask innocently enough as you flick through the records, stopping on one whose cover makes you chuckle a little to yourself as you pull it out. The man in front of you and the man on this cover are the same person- you can tell in the eyes but physically they're two very different people and as you glance back at Elvis setting down two Pepsi's and some you find this one is the one you prefer over the one on the cover. 

His eyes flick up to you as you fiddle with his record player and place the record on it. He looks down at the floor, a rare show of bashfulness that you find yourself smiling at as he finally speaks. "Aw hell, yeah. Back before everythin', back before I got drafted I did. Stopped- right 'bout '60? Made my manager mad as hell but I couldn't do it no more. Constantly gettin' told I was doin' things wrong, being a bad impression on the youth. I wasn't that old ya know? Wasn't that much older than the youth they wanted to say I was corrupting. Like everythin' I did wasn't t'make sure my mama- god rest her soul- and my daddy and my grandma were taken care of." Elvis pauses when he realizes just what record you put on and he has to hold back the urge to just stare at you. Of all his songs. Now or Never?

He runs his tongue across the front of his mouth and just looks at you before crossing the room in a few short strides. A short exhale leaves your mouth, almost a reverse gasp as you find yourself a bit startled by the way a switch appeared to be flipped with him. You’ve never been the most demure but you find yourself looking down for a moment before you feel his hand underneath your chin. You find that your brain seems to shut down looking at Elvis. There’s something in his eyes as he looks at you, something that you can’t quite put your finger on but it’s heady and has your body shivering just slightly at the intensity of whatever emotion is hidden his blue eyes. 

“Can I hear you sing?” You ask before scrunching up your face. In all the times you’ve been talking about class and occasionally about things outside of it, he had never mentioned a music career. This had to be something he didn’t like to talk about and here you were asking him to sing. Even though you want to hear it- you’re starting to- you have been caring about him too much to put him in too much discomfort. Your mouth opens to tell him he doesn’t have to before you hear it as he pulls you closer to him.

His voice is deeper than in the recording, fuller you suppose but it sounds no less beautiful, no less rich and inviting than it does on the recording. The vibrations of the song, of his lungs and of his throat and chest as he sings settle something you didn’t know was giving you a problem. It’s then that you take a chance, a stupid chance you feel like you might regret, of just leaning your head on his chest. He doesn’t push you away and he’s thankful you can’t see him looking at you, can’t see inside his head and realize that he wants to just stroke your hair. He wants to feel you this close to him more often than not, he wants to have you be this gentle and comfortable with him. It’s easy enough to tamp down on the urge though, to tamp down on even telling you this instead choosing to start to sway along with the music. You pick up quickly, swaying back and forth as you listen to him sing, noting that some lines seem to be getting more attention than others.

Maybe you're just imagining it, maybe it's just the natural cadence of the song but you shut your eyes as you sway, allowing yourself to pretend he's saying things like "my soul surrendered" and "I spent a lifetime waiting for the right time" to you. That he's singing those to you while in your bedroom, or maybe in another life while he's on stage, telling everyone that he loves his- girlfriend more than anything. You look up to try and meet his eyes only to realize that he's not looking at you so you sigh remembering it's only a fantasy but one you're willing to indulge in, perhaps one you can make a reality if you just took the plunge, if you just finally admitted to him that you wanted to be with him intimately and more. His heartbeat feels fast but you've never been close enough to listen, close enough to hear how his heart beats a strange percussion just for you. The song is reaching its end you think and you feel Elvis's lips- you think- on top of your head, kissing it softly as he practically whispers a line of "kiss me my darling, be mine tonight" against your hair. 

He's asking you, he's begging you he thinks but you don't notice. You don't realize as you hum along as the song ends, his heart threatening to twist at how it feels so goddamn natural to have you like this- to have you in his arms. It's silly, what he does next and he's ready to play it off if you hear him but he places another kiss at the crown of your head and whispers soft as a church mouse "my love won't wait". 

You can hear him just barely but your mind knows better, it knows that he can't be meaning that. This is just him trying to charm you like other professors have. Your heart though, your heart beats faster, threatening to escape from your chest after hearing it. Maybe- maybe you're not wrong, maybe you're not wrong when you think this is different. Maybe Elvis actually is different than the others. Still- you're not- you want to be the one to make the first move but not here, not in some place as intimate as his home. It's with a heavy heart that you pull back from him, looking up at him with a smile that you hope doesn't betray how delighted you are to hear what he's said to you.

"We should eat." You whisper, not trusting your voice to go any higher but figuring he can hear you even as the record flips to play some song with the words make me know it in it.

He pulls away fully from you and moves to sit down where he set the food and nods. "Course. Then we'll get back t'work."

As it turns out you only get about three more hours of work in before you hear him snoring lightly next to you in his lounge clothes. You don't know when he fell asleep but you see how his body is contorted into something that you figure is him trying to get comfortable and realize that maybe he might feel more comfortable sleeping in his own bed. Shaking him awake isn't the easiest thing but after about a minute he looks at you blearily, his eyes blinking to try and focus on you.

"Come on, big boy, to bed with you." You try and wiggle yourself under his arm, forcing him off the couch a little before he grumbles something and moves into a proper sitting position. He's still not standing up but it's progress, especially when he follows suit as you stand up from the couch, leaning just a bit on you as he tries to get his legs to work to move in the way you need him to.

Elvis is surprisingly easy to maneuver for someone who you'd think once he starts to doze off would practically be dead weight, but you still find that he leans on you a little more than you'd like, than you feel you can handle in the moment. Not for the first time tonight you find yourself looking at his face, seeing the little wrinkles by his eyes, seeing the stubble growing on his chin and realizing he looks exhausted and just at least mildly like he's seen better days. You feel your heart twist at the knowledge that even with you coming here tonight, he's likely in for less rest than you think he needs in the coming weeks trying to catch up. A part of you is thankful that Elvis had changed into his lounging clothes when the two of you had gotten to his house, after all if he hadn't have you might have had to help him change in his state right now and- you truly don't trust that you would have been able to keep your touches helpful and chaste.

As it stands you get him to the bed after pulling down the sheets and lightly push him to give him the hint to lay down. In a moment of clarity, he looks at you as if to voice his displeasure at the idea before he frowns and doesn't argue. Once he's settled himself in with your assistance when he gets his legs tangled in the sheet a little you pull the sheets up, almost tucking him in before placing a soft kiss upon his forehead. You're about to pull away before you feel his hand moving to grab your wrist and hear his sleep addled voice speaking. 

"Stay 'ere, Belle. Stay wit'me."

You freeze, unable to move between his grip on your wrist and the shock of what he said just now coursing through your veins and bouncing in your brain. This has got to be a dream, you both fell asleep on the couch and you're dreaming. This is not real. His grip loosens as his eyes flutter shut and his head lolls to the side. You manage to pull away but not before you place yet another kiss to his forehead and walk over to the bedroom door. The words that leave your mouth are barely audible but you know what you say. "Not tonight, Elvis. Not tonight, my Big Daddy. Maybe another night."

The walk back to the couch is lonely and a bit cold if you're being honest, despite the heat in the house. Elvis's jacket is sitting on the couch in plain view of you as you hug your own jacket closer to you. Your eyes drift to the plates that you had left on the table before you head to clean them, setting them where they need to go. A thought crosses your mind to head home but you realize you don't have your car and you're not about to try and drive his home. The couch isn't an ideal place to sleep but you figure it'll do for tonight, at least until Elvis wakes up. There's no blankets around but there is his jacket and you allow yourself to cover yourself with it, inhaling the unique scent of cigars and old spice and everything else that makes up Elvis. The warmth of the jacket has your eyes falling shut quicker than you think is possible.

It's warm when you wake up, warm enough that you take more time than is perhaps necessary to actually open your eyes and register your surroundings. You shift just a little only to realize that where you are at the present moment and where you fell asleep are two completely different places. You had been on the couch alone covered in a mix of your jacket and Elvis's, inhaling the unique musk that was him. It made you feel as if you had taken him up on his offer and joined him in bed, his arms enveloping you and keeping you warm despite the slight chill in the house. You still can smell that unique musk and you can still feel the warmth that accompanied it but your eyes flit down to your waist where even in the dim early morning light you can see the outline of Elvis's arm, you can feel his arm wrapped around you pulling you close. You shift again, trying to see if there's any give to his arm only to have him tighten it as his head moves down to the back of your neck and nuzzles, growling ever so softly. 

"Too early, darlin'. Stayin' right 'ere." He mumbles against your neck, placing soft kiss there. "No early bird this mornin'"

You can feel his arousal against your backside and you tamp down on the urge to grind against it, knowing that as much as you want to that's not what- you can't do that when he's still asleep like this. Still, a sigh erupts from your mouth as you feel him shift causing it to thrust up against you just a bit. How had you even gotten in here, last thing you had remembered was being on the couch. Had you walked back here in your sleep? Had you been craving his warmth and his embrace so much that you had done something as silly as this in your sleep? No, you- maybe you had. You needed to leave- you could stay here not for him to see you when you woke up. He had gone to bed alone even if he might not have fully realized it so he needed to wake up alone just the same. If he didn't maybe he'd- no Elvis wouldn't hurt you. He was different but you didn't want to risk the anger, risk seeing his face contort into something you didn't recognize because you let yourself be greedy before you had properly planned. You needed to talk to him before something like this happened. Every card needed to be on the table before you allowed yourself this guilty pleasure of waking up in his arms enveloped by a heat and what feels like maybe the first smatterings of an honest love.

It takes you twenty minutes to detangle yourself from Elvis's arms as you struggle not to wake him and as his arms tighten around you every time you so much as think of moving but you finally manage to grab a pillow that you use to replace your body slowly but surely as you move out of his grasp.

A pillow is a poor substitute for you, and you’re aware of it, knowing fully well that at best it’ll buy you maybe ten or twenty minutes before he’ll wake up and realize you’re not there. Even now you can hear him mumbling your name in his sleep interspersed with Belle, it makes your heart jump into your throat, seeing him clutch the pillow as if it’s the only thing allowing him happiness. He’s- even if he’s meaning you he doesn’t know you probably crawled in here after having a hard time falling asleep or that you slept walked into there. He wouldn’t have reacted well to seeing you in the bed with him, let alone as curled up together as you were. Even as he clutches the pillow he looks so happy, the smile playing on his face as he holds the pillow close. You knew you were doing the right thing, knew that if you didn’t he might regret letting you come to his house and everything up to this moment would be for naught and truthfully you’re not entirely sure your heart would be able to take the rejection that you figure would come when he awoke. 

The overwhelming desire to stay there, to crawl back into bed with him chokes you the longer you look at him, look at the empty space beside him before you remind yourself why you’re leaving. Elvis won’t- he won’t do anything to you, you don’t think and yet. You allow yourself the pleasure of placing your hand in his hair, running it through the strands and hearing a relaxed sigh leave his mouth as any tension he had in his shoulders leave them. Before you go you place a kiss to his forehead, mirroring what you had done earlier that night and without much noise you sneak out of his bedroom, grabbing your jacket on the couch before you sneak out the front door as well.

Elvis wakes up about an hour later, his brain not catching on immediately to the fact that you had become a pillow, allowing himself to grind against it for a moment before his eyes shoot open and realize you’re gone. His brain blanks on anything but this one thought.

“Now you’ve gone and left me alone too?”

taglist: @elvisgirl35, @butlersluvbot, @lokis-right-femurr, @godlypresley, @steph-speaks, @lindszeppelin, @eliseinmemphis, @thatbanditqueen, @venus-haze, @lrd98, @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @aconflagrationofmyown and @butlersxbirdy

[deberiaestarescribiendo]

Saint Jude's Miracle: A Javier Peña x OFC (Isa) Fanfiction. Chapter IV

Summary: Javier left one small detail about his partnership with the DEA, a insignificant one but that changes how Isa perceives this job and the risks he’s about to take. They spent the last weekend before he leaves in Laredo where they made many memories at the beginning of their relationship.

WC: 4,3k

Warnings: angst and many hurt feelings, miscommunication, swearing. NSFW +18 SMUT at the end of the chapter (fingering, male masturbation, p in v and a bit of sex talk but not that explicit)

A/N: Hi! this is chapter four and I think that I can wrap up this story in a few chapters more (4 maximum, at least that’s the plan) I literally based the whole end of the chapter on my first participation on #Writer Wednesday that you can read here and my love for Juan Luis Guerra. The song mentioned is “Burbujas de amor” I grew up dancing and listening to that tape while my mami cooked and later in my life I really paid attention to the lyrics discovering that well, it’s about sex 😅, still it’s a beautiful bachata and the hopeless romantic in me wishes that somebody (Javi Peña please) would dance it with me someday while being madly in love 💃❤

Listen and Lyrics here (there's a few verses translated by yours truly in the chapter)

Masterlist | Chapter 3⬅

Chapter IV: Small details

Isabel tries to focus on her daily routines like doing the chores; it’s easier than to think about anything else, she tries to keep going as if nothing is going to happen. But every time she looks at the door where Javi has left his luggage, she feels her stomach twisting. She’s desperate; thinking how she could make him stay: maybe she could lie, pretend that something has come up, but she dismisses those thoughts straight away, she must be overthinking, it’s just a week, she repeats herself but she cannot help feeling that something is wrong and that she should do anything to make him stay.

Javier plays with Elvira on the garden, the little girl screams and laughs out loud while her father tries to catch her; Isabel looks at them amused from the sliding door when the phone rings.

“Hello?” she answers

“Hi! It’s Steve, is Javi home?” a deep male voice she doesn’t recognize replies

“Yes, who is this again?” she actually has an idea. He, this Steve, it's the one that has convinced his husband to go, the one that called a thousand times during the night.

“Steve, I was your husband’s partner back in Colombia. You’re Isa, right?”

“Yes”

“Nice to meet you, well, through the phone at least” he chuckles

“Nice to meet you too”

“Javi has told me about you and, let me tell you, me and my wife, we’re dying to meet you”

“I’d love to say the same but he doesn’t share much about that time” she blurts out, she actually feels hurt, why did Javi tell him about her and nothing of the man calling to her, his wife? “Are you going with him to Mexico? You are the one that asked him?”

“Ask him? We didn’t...” Steve says confused “Yes, y-y-es, we’re going together” he coughs “Can you pass him the phone, please?”

“Yes”

Isa strides angrily towards the garden and calls for Javi to come inside. He stops immediately the games with Elvira and returns to the house with a curious look.

“Sí, amor?”

“The phone, it’s your friend Steve” she hisses

“Steve?”

“Jav...I think I might have fucked up talking to your wife”

The rest of the day is a symphony of Isa stumping through the house, slamming doors and grunts and curses slurred.

“She’s angry again” Elvi confides leaning on her father’s ear while their watching a movie after dinner

“Yeah, I think so too” fuck Steve and his big mouth

His wife is doing the dishes and if he wasn’t able to hear the water running, he would think she is actually destroying the whole kitchen rather than cleaning; she lays things unnecessarily loudly and the clack clack sound of the plates smashing against each other announces that she’s losing her cool and that she’s about to break some of them soon enough.

Crash

“Fuck!”

Eli gasps and cringes hearing her mum say a bad word for the first time.

“You keep watching, I’m going to see if she’s ok” Javi gets up and walks to the kitchen

She’s cleaning the thousand tiny pieces muttering a list of bad words in Spanish and English.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes” she says abruptly

“Clearly not, but...”

“Of course I am not” she starts shouting but she lowers her voice immediately knowing her kid can hear her “I’m about to lose my mind”

“Isa...” he approaches her but she backs away and stops him

“You forgot to tell me some small details, Javier” she accuses

“What details?”

“Why did your friend imply that they didn’t ask you to go?”

He sighs placing his hands on his hips

“I didn’t want you to...”

“Worry?” she interrupts “We’re passed that”

“Alright, I did offered my help” he confesses

“What kind of help?”

“I’ve told you. See what they got and testify when necessary about the information I found” he looks tired, dark circles under his eyes and he lowers his arms defeated “Can we please talk about this later...”

“You’re telling me that you are an informant, Javi?” Isa waits for his answer with her fists close tightly; her lips are a fine line now

“Yes, more or less” he sighs

“Javier... why did you put yourself at risk like that?” her voice is low and she closes her eyes before speaking trying to control what she’s about to say “You know what those people do to whoever dares to speak up?”

“Of course, I fucking know, Isa!” he screams and slams his hand on the table, making her flinch

Helena

Maritza

Carrillo

Even fucking Mr Pickle

The list of people Javi had seen die or their lives distroyed because they dare to face the Narcos or say something they shouldn’t have was long and his mind repeats those names again and again when he tries to forget about what happened in Colombia.

“What did you want me to do? Look the other way? Ignore it as everybody in that fucking stupid job? Let those people go?” his eyes glow with the white light on the kitchen. He never loses his temper; he’s actually pretty calm even when they’ve fought before. But in that moment, Isa see how his hands shake how his body tenses

“What I want it’s that you don’t want to comprise yourself, your health to something that isn’t your job anymore” she mutters

“Yeah, but guess what? It’s the only thing I know how to do and I’m actually good at it, not that stupid office job that kills me every fucking day”

“If you don’t like it you can change, Javi, nobody is holding you there” she suggests

“Nobody is holding me there? Well, we have to keep paying this fucking house don’t we?” he snarls

“It’s our fault then that you have accepted to put yourself in this position? that you always want to run away?” Isabel gawks. She’s about to say something else but Elvira’s cries and screams are loud now after she has listen to her parents fight, so Isabel storms out of the kitchen to her. The little girl is sitting on the couch trying to muffle her whimpers holding her unicorn.

“Mi cielo, ven aquí” (My love come here) she jumps to her mother’s arms and she shakes and sniffs “We’re going to bed, come on” Isa lifts her tiny body up and walks towards the stairs, she glares at Javi when he tries to reach for them and shakes her head.

Isabel comes to bed late and when he’s already there, in the dark, she undresses and takes her place on the right side without saying a word.

“Isa” he murmurs

Javier stretches his arm to reach her but as soon as she feels him, she moves away.

“C’mon Isa” he raises putting his weight on his elbow “Talk to me”

“I don’t want to talk”

“Then listen to me. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have screamed and say those things”

“Doesn’t matter how you said it if you think them, though” she counters still not turning to face him

“I don’t think them”

“Which part?”

“I don’t think you are responsible of me wanting to do this or that I’m bored and disgusted of my job”

“You’re doing it again”

“What?”

“Lying to yourself. You’re bored of your life I can understand that, I didn’t choose to be in this life either, but I have to accept it. And you’ll have to accept that the life you had back in the day can’t come back at least Elvi and I we don’t fit in it”

“Amor it’s not like that”

“Then stay”

“I can’t” he sighs

Isa stays quite and tense hugging the pillow and when he tries again to touch her, she gets up and strides outside the room

“I’m going to sleep with Elvi tonight”Javier raises to stop her but again she refuses his touch. Defeated, he throws himself on bed. Then stay, I wish it was that easy

They leave to Laredo the next morning to spend the weekend with Chucho before Javi crosses the border.

Isa responds with just “yes” or “no” to anything her husband says during the ride and focuses on distracting Elvira with music or playing with her Barbie dolls.

Her last sentence, the one she said the night before, burns in his brain.

You want your life back and we don't fit in it it makes his stomach turn, because deep down he knows it's true.

That hunger he feels, the thrive that hooks him to this job is a lingering ghost that whispers in his ear, a siren singing until he's about to drown.

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

He remembers one night back in Colombia a few years ago. Gabriela under him, her soft skin glowing in sweat as he poured his frustration in her, she was sweet and always understood what he wanted, beautiful but with a sadness in her eyes, very common among the girls in the same job, and he had ask her why she didn't stop and she responded with the same question back to him.He didn't have an answer back then, and when he did stop, he was forced to because the system wouldn't allow him to do his job properly. His departure from the DEA was a bad break up; he didn't find closure no matter how many times he did say that he was through.

Chucho welcomes his family with tamales and cold beer. He lets Elvira roam around the chickens and the rest of the animals on the ranch before dinner. He's not naive and senses the tension between his son and daughter in law since they've gotten out of the car.

“¿Bueno qué te hizo este pendejo?” (what did this idiot do to you?) He asks to Isa while setting the table

“He's going to Mexico you know, with the DEA”

“What?”

“He's an informant now apparently”

“An informant”, Chucho thinks about that information and decides not to mention anything during dinner as he prefers to listen to his granddaughter stories. Once they're done and Elvi and Isa are cleaning the dishes he forces Javi out of the house.

“Isa told me you’re going to Mexico with the DEA”

“Just for a week, I'm helping them with something”

“You remember that day after you got back from Cali? In this same place”

“Yes”

“You told me you were through”

“And I'm, I'm just being useful. That information landed on my lap what was I supposed to do? Ignore it, pops?”

“You could just passed the tip and let them do it. When you got back from Cali I've found you here, every morning watching as the boats go up the river with los kilos, you were never through Javi, don't lie to me”

“You and Isa are just perfect for each other” Javi scoffs

“She worries about you, she loves you, mijo” he grabs his son’s arm

“I know”

“You're not the young man that left Laredo, Javi, nor the man that came back from Colombia, you're a dad now. And let me give you a piece of advice, out of experience, even if you think your father is annoying” Javi shakes his head “Parents always know, they know you and see you for what you are even when yourself is trying to deny it. You've been always like that, Javi, always trying to do the right thing even if it costs you your health and your heart and blaming yourself endlessly for the things you couldn't control”

Javi listens in silence, chewing hard on a nicorette.

“Now the right thing is not going after those Narcos, the right thing is to stay with your family”

Javi has his gaze fixed on the moon and stars that illuminates the river under them.

“But that's only this old man opinions, your family will wait for you here, we always do” he adds

­­­­­­

“So can we go? Please please” Elvira begs at the table

“Claro, mija” (Of course, love) His grandpa always spoiling her pinches her cheek before hers parents can answer “We’re going all of us together”

Javi and Isa look at him. Isa is still giving Javier the silent treatment and has being avoiding him even though Chucho forces everybody to share every meal on the leaving room and do the same activities together; even though Javi has tried to approach her many times a day, she finds ways to reject him.

“Papá...” Javi starts

“There’s no discussion, son. Mi nieta quiere ir a la feria y vamos a ir a la feria” (My granddaughter wants to go to the funfair and we’re going to the funfair”

“It could be fun” Isa agrees and gives a timid smile; it’s the most she’s spoken since they’ve arrived.

Laredo’s funfair takes place at the end of the summer and it’s practically the only activity for a lazy summer evening so the whole town is there. Isa watches as her daughter grins, her mouth already sticky thanks to the cotton candy she’s eating, and the sugar is starting to kick in, she’s jumping and screaming pulling her grandpa’s hand and the poor man follows trying not to fall down.

“Easy on abuelito, Elvi” Isa laughs

Isabel is beautiful tonight, like many years ago, she wears a sunflower summer dress and her dark curls clipped on both sides. Javi smiles, his mind wandering through the memories from the past when they were starting to know each other.

“You remember our first date?” he asks

“Yes” she nods “It was a pretty good date I think”

“Never thought we will be back to this funfair with our daughter years later”

“Me neither. And I think your father regrets now that he said yes to this” Isa motions to her right where Elvi is forcing his grandpa to get on one of the rides.

“I should go with her instead if I don’t want to collect my father’s corpse after this” he grins and they walk towards the people queuing.

“Elvi, leave abuelito, Dad is going with you” Isa tries to sound like an authority but she keeps laughing watching poor Chucho scared

“No, I want to go with you” she crosses her arms and pouts “With you both, mami y papi” she says

“I-I” Isa simpers

“Leave mami, she doesn’t like this kind of things”

“No!” she cries “Like abuelo said, we’re going together all of us”

“Honey...” Javi bends to her, but Isa posses her hand on his shoulder

“Okay, I’ll go too, but you leave abuelo stay”

She seems to hesitate for a bit, but then she nods and finally Chucho breathes deeply in relief.

“Be careful” he says walking way too fast away from the queue

The attraction simulates a ship going forward and backward, each time farther away and faster. Isa exhales trying to calm herself down while Elvi and her husband laugh at her.

“Remember I told you I puked in one ride the first time I came to the fair? So this is the one, you two won’t be laughing once I vomit all over you both” she screams and that makes them laugh even more

The first two rounds are not that bad. Isa holds one hand on her seat the other over Elvi’s body. Javier reaches timidly at first to brush his fingers over hers as to reassure her, he’s about to recoil but she holds on tightly to his fingers, her eyelids strongly closed. When thing finally stops, Isa can barely walk.

Elvira is already jumping towards Chucho trying to convince him to get on another round with her.

“Hold on to me come on” Javi says holding her by the waist it’s been two days since he last touch her. Two days where he has tried to hold her hand or subtly tried to bump into her while on the kitchen but she has refused his touch. So he closes his fingers on the dress trying to hold on what she has finally given him and not force the situation and make her go back to that state again. Although all he wants is to hold her in his arms and take the pain he sees on her eyes away. Pain you have caused, idiot.

“No way, señorita, you will kill you grandpa” he responds

Time passes and Isa is no longer shaking and can stand on her legs, but lets her husband’s arm around her, his hand rubs gentle circle on her side.

“We should get you something to eat”

There’s a big plain at the center of the fair where they’ve installed a stage and some tables facing it; around the terrain many foodtrucks offer anything you’d like to eat and fill the air with million different and delicious scents.

Javi kisses her temple “I’ll be back”

After ravishing a burger and fries Isa feels the cold sweat and the nausea fading away. The band is now playing slow songs and a many couples are dancing around the colorful little lights that cross over the flatland. Chucho clears his throat and looks at his son in a not very subtle way and motion his head to the people dancing and then to his wife.

“Do you want to dance?” Isa sips her soda and seems confused by his offering

“You don’t dance”

“I dance... sometimes, c’mon, it’s been a long time” he stand up and tends a hand to her gaining a smirk and a wink from his father.

The band starts playing a bachata. Javi lays her hand on her lower back feeling the way her hips go right and left, her soft breath on his chest while he brushes his lips on her forehead.

“I think this one was on that tape I gave you” she says on his ear, raising her voice over the music

“Suggestive enough” he smirks “We listened to that tape on a loop in my car that summer”

“I don’t know if I’d call listen to a tape what we used to do in your car” she laughs

“Yeah, the nights at the riverbank and that tape...I remember”

“I wish we could go back sometimes” she whispers so softly that Javi is not sure if she just says it to herself

The song ends and the people cheer and clap but they stay in a tight embrace knowing that when they let go and they’re back to square one. Javi is still parting on Monday and Isabel will stay always waiting for him to come back.

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

The trip back home is calm; Chucho drives while the radio plays some classics from the 60’s, Isabel holds her child’s head on her chest, her other hand lays lazily between the seats, slowly advancing towards Javi’s thigh until she brushes her knuckles over his jeans. He turns to face her but she keeps looking through the window at the night sky and the fading lights of the fair. After leaving Elvira on bed, Chucho feels that it’s time for him to leave the two of them alone.

“I’m going to sleep, you don’t have to wake up early but I’ll go to church tomorrow at nine” Chucho announces before going to his room

The humble space in the living room suddenly feels like a world away from one end to the other, from the corner where Javi stand to Isa on the other. She looks down trying to find the things she wants to say and to command her feet to walk, to run to him.

“I think I’m going to sleep” Javi says unbuttoning his shirt

“Do you want to walk with me? Just for a bit” she interrupts

“Yeah...okay” he raises his brow confused but agrees instantly, whatever makes her talk to him again.

They walk around the property, the crickets and breeze the only sound around them. The animals are asleep and the current of the nearby river is stronger in that part of the ranch.

“I used to love nights like this” she says eventually

“Yeah, I’d pick you up after your shifts at the bar and we spent the night right here” he points to an old red truck now dusty and abandoned.

“I should have known better than to end up with a guy that fucks you on a pick up because his father is sleeping inside the house” she scoffs

“Well, to be fair, I remember I fucked you in plenty other places” he jokes back “Do you want to see if that old tape is still there?”

They approach the shed where Chucho keeps the old car, the door squeaks when Javi opens it.

“Ladies first” he lays out a hand so Isa can get inside and impulse herself on the step. They sit, as many years ago, on the black leather seat that is well preserved even if it’s been years since the last time it was used. Isa throws a look behind her; the blankets they used to cushion their bodies are still there, and she sighs softly

“When was the last time that we did it here?” she asks while Javi struggles to open the radio that’s full of dirt and rust.

“Probably two weeks before you told me that you were pregnant” he guesses

“Poor Elvi, we made her on this old thing” she laughs

“Our lives and my back were never the same” he jokes

“It was me who was most of the time on back” Isa slaps him playfully “So dumbed by you I’d let you do anything over those old rugs”

“Under the stars, listening to Juan Luis Guerra...it was romantic, you told me yourself” he defended

“Again I was dumb”

“I still think this old thing brought us many joyful moments” he taps on the dashboard

“Nostalgic I see” Isa smirk

“A little, you?”

“You’re trying to fuck your way out of this one too” she sighs shaking her head

“Just trying to give my wife a good orgasm before leaving”

“Oh, you’re so sure of yourself”

“Empiric fact, don’t I always make you cum?”

His hand raises the hem of her dress and pulls her legs apart. Her panties already have a damp patch on its center and he grunts feeling her moan just with the faintest brush of his finger between her folds

“What did the song say? I want to spend the whole night wet in you”

Isa gasps when he pulls her to his lap in a swift motion.

“Something like that” she bends her head and kisses him hard biting his lower lip softly

“I want to make love shapes under the moonlight” Javi raises slowly her summer dress until he takes it off and wastes no time in kissing and licking her bare breasts once they’re liberated from the fabric. He tends to one first cupping it, licking and sucking on her nipple and then to the other until her soft skin gets gooseflesh. Isabel moans and rocks her hips back and forth trying to find relief.

“Face to face, kiss by kiss, I want to live always wet in you” he whispers before resuming his sweet attention on her tits

“You learnt it by heart” she laughs

“Cos it’s accurate, that’s how I feel about you, baby”

Isabel unzips his jeans and palms his length over his underwear before releasing him. She wets her hand with her own saliva before stroking him up and down. Helping her, Javi reaches for her core and slips the wet panties to the side not without caressing her clit first with his thumb

“Isa” he moans feeling her arousal, his head on the hollow of her neck nibbling over her pulse. The way he pronounces her name, how he caresses every letter sends her shivers and increases her hunger for him. She reaches between her bodies and lets his cock slide inside her. She starts rocking her hips, moving up and down and in a few thrust she finds the perfect angle where he hits that sensitive spot.

“Shit” she pants

Javi whispers praises in her ear how good she feels, how beautiful she looks naked in the moonlight with him buried so deep inside her. And with that she loses control and rides him faster and harder with her back arched against the dashboard; sensing her immediate release Javier locks his lips on her breasts sucking on her nipples and reaching for her clit between their bodies.

“Cum for me, my love” he says, his gaze fixed in her contort expression, eyes closed and mouth open and she shakes around him feeling tense for a second and then as if her bones had melted she collapses on his chest.

Javi thrusts lazily feeling how she quivers around his cock and lets her relax from her orgasm before increasing the pace again to find relief.

Regaining a bit of her conscience, Isa straightens her body and lets him push in her hard and fast until he crumbles.

They stay there under the moon and starts in the old car where all started; a thousand times they had lost themselves in each other like this, and a thousand times Isa wishes that everything would be as easy as this with him.

She strokes his arms drawing soft circles over his muscles “I know you can’t, but I really want you to stay with us, with me. But if leaving this time helps you understand that you belong to me and your place is here, with me, then so be it”

[noramoya]

• TrayC — I love to tour.

“HI, MJ FAM . I POSTED ABOUT THIS IN THE MJ MISCELLANEOUS THREAD BUT AFTER SPEAKING TO ANOTHER FONT IN DM, THOUGHT IT WOULD BE BETTER TO CREATE A THREAD SO MORE PEOPLE CAN BE AWARE. I AM NOT ABLE TO POST THE TWEET IN WUESTION BECAUSE IT WOULD BE AGAINST LSA RULES.

BACKGROUND FOR THOSE WHO DON’T KNOW : Pearl Jr is a 'journalist' who states she has evidence that MJ faked his death. She has made 3 DVD's with her 'evidence' which she sells to naive fans. One of her main arguments is that she's spent thousands of hours on the phone to Michael himself, who she claims is Peter. Peter comes to this site to try to recruit people for his own forum. I don't think he has claimed he is MJ but he does creepy stuff like posting collections of rare memorabilia (which some people think is stolen), and mimicks MJs voice. (He sounds ridiculous but this has not stopped Pearl and thousands of lonely, vulnerable women into thinking that it's MJ). He has not disputed Pearls claims. He goes on live chats on his forum and many of these women seem to think they are in some kind of personal relationship with him. He has fairly large followings on twitter, facebook and his forum. Both of these people, in my opinion, are batshit. A few years ago, a group of fans exposed who he really was, a guy who has spends his life mimicking MJ. This is the first time I think he has been exposed in a live chat. What happened (what I posted in the other thread):

'PETER' WAS DOING A LIVE CHAT AND HE, ACCIDENTALLY, FLIPPED HIS PHONE AND SHOWED HIMSELF TO BE THE OVERWEIGHT IMPOSTER THAT HE IS. HE THEN TRIED TO DELETE THE EVIDENCE BUT ONE OF HIS FOLLOWERS SNAPPED IT AND PUT IT ON TWITTER. IT’S STILL THERE BUT I WONT POST IT HERE . PEARL JR. OF COURSE IS NOW SAYING THAT IT’S MJ’S DISGUISE. LOL! SHE GOT TO GET HER INVESTMENT BACK SOMEHOW, I GUESS. The twitter user who posted this is someone who believed Pearl and her purchased DVDs apparently.” — April 29, 2018.

• Xscape —*The dark thoughts in your head*

“TrayC, Thank you so much for bringing this info out in the open. This has truly gone on way too long.

It is the intent of Peter Midani and his followers to throw Pearl Jr under the bus, claiming she is the only one responsible, but Make no mistake.. Peter Midani admitted on LSA to giving her permission to share their conversations so he knew very well what she was saying and promoting.

I know people who buy into this whole labor of love lie but hear me out. If Michael was discovered alive by the mainstream, what would happen.. Especially to the person he decided to reach out and go public to... That person is set for life... For bringing Michael back to the world. Seventy five thousand dollars is chump change compared to millions and millions of potential income if the risk panned out.

Pearl may be crazy but She ain't stupid. And Using the argument of being biased against Peter for sounding similar to Michael to certain people, again is not logical when 99.9% of impersonators and tribute artists have no qualms nor problem about their real identity known and, in fact prefers that, so no misunderstanding happens. Peter uses his Michael like voice to seduce young girls who are MJ fans into cyber or phone sex with him. Plus, because of what Pearl Jr has promoted him as, they think they are involved with Michael, in a secret life.

Please... It's fake ! Glad to see him busted, although I am sure another claim of being hacked and stolen identity will come up. And these people buy it because they're that desperate thinking they are close to Michael somehow, even when its not him . Crazy ! Also, He supports Shana ! Thanks again Tray C :) Thanks Thanks 🙏🏼 Hugs! Hugs! — April 29, 2018. “

• SellingOutSouls — 24KCoughDrop

“I wouldn’t really worry about it. The very few stans that give her the time of day are usually from foreign countries and struggle to understand English.” — 04/29/2018.

• TrayC — I love to tour .

“Yeah, you're probably right. I'm more concerned about the 12k people that follow Peter tbh. Many of them young girls ... “. — April 29, 2018.

• Xscape — *The dark thoughts in your head*

“This is the Pearl Jr of “Wink wink.Nod nod... Michael Jackson is Alive” and Peter Midani is Michael Jackson on various platforms. I only point her out because, for a friend, Midani is a lousy one, willing to throw her under the bus for this when he gave his permission and has seen her videos. He knows what she sells ! In other words, They’re both in it, like peas in a pod ! — April 29, 2018.”

• Angels777 — Well-Known Member

Thank you @TrayC

This does deserve it's own thread for people who either aren't aware of the con-game Pearl Jr and Peter Midani have going on, or who support them and may need their eyes opened. It's so sad that some fans of MJ still continue to fall victim of shenanigans such as this. The best way to show them is to expose them.” — April 29, 2018.

• awsomegirl015 — Minding your business

“Why is it that people constantly think celebrities fake their deaths? Now Tupac is somewhat believable because there was never a real autopsy done. But I doubt Michael is still alive. The whole world saw his funeral”. — April 29, 2018 .

• TrayC — I love to your.

“Because some people find it hard to accept when their fav dies. Especially if they are still young or if under suspicious circumstances. To be clear, I don't care what people believe. I personally enjoy watching videos about conspiracy theories. I do have a problem with manipulation and scamming which I believe is the case here.” 04/29/2018.

• Xscape — *The dark thoughts in your head*

ROTFLMAO... Let's not give Peter Midani any real followers, Man ! Actually, It is hard to understand ! These young girls and followers think they are protecting and being loyal to Michael Jackson here ! Now, we know this is nonsense... Especially now . But they are convinced, so they are loyal, thinking they are standing up for Michael Jackson , secretly ! This person almost caused the collapse of another MJ fan board with this act, and I know of two girls he flirted with, who absolutely thought this was Michael Jackson ! And this happened when Michael was still living ! Just know.. The two young women I knew were devastated when everything fell apart. They loved him as Michael and it was a betrayal when he turned out not to be, or they began to have doubts. Then, Michael was murdered. How would you feel being unable to confirm or deny you knew someone. Chatted with someone.. And they may be dead ? These people didn't have the truth and no place to go to find it ! The truth is coming out, but it cannot be placed all on Gaz. Now is the time to take a stand and spread this message or share your experiences if you are familiar with this situation. Secrets only keep the lie going, with people getting coin in their pockets off MJ fans ! Let's take back our fan base for each other ! Time for the crap to go ! “. — April 29, 2018 .

• Angels777 — Well-Known Member

ABOUT : Leogirl817 said:’ I don't know how this woman can function in her everyday life!’

“She's obsessed ! Her whole life revolves around this scam. Either she thinks Michael is in the car with Prince following her, or she thinks she talks to Michael on the phone all the time.She screams about talking to Michael (Peter Midani) for over ONE THOUSAND HOURS so she knows he's alive. If you challenge her, she gets smart with you and basically degrades you by calling you names and tells you if you don't believe her then get off her page. She insists that Peter is Michael and continues to do so, even after his real face was recently exposed yet again. Talk about crazy 😜! “ — April 29, 2018.

• SellingOutSouls — 24K CoughDrops

“Woah...WHAT HAPPENED TO GAZ?!! “. — 04/29/2018 .

• Xscape — *The dark thoughts in your head*

“Gaz? He is fine, as far as I know. I don't know him well... I said as I did, because it was like there was a time he was fighting this alone... There just hasn't been much of a system in place for such victims to be able to find the truth and hopefully healing ! Instead, these people are often met with ridicule because they are hard to convince. Letting Peter Midani go, means letting Michael Jackson go, for them... So they stay silent and in the limbo .” — April 29, 2018 .

• SellingOutSouls — 24K CoughDrops.

“I find it incredibly hard to believe people would dismiss GAZ, regarding anything because, despite his falling out with some of his members on MJJC, he’s still held with high regard ! Last I had heard he had exposed Peter Midani as a fraud and the sane majority of the fan base believe GAZ. I honestly feel like regardless of Peter existing or not there’s ALWAYS going to be beLIEvers among us. No matter how hard we try or how many frauds we expose there will still be those who choose to believe in the false hope of Michael being alive. I mean you still have people that number in the thousands that believe Elvis is alive, even though the chances of somebody with the type of health issues Elvis had wouldn’t likely make it into their 80s are slim.” — 04/29/2018 .

• Xscape — *The dark thoughts in your head*

“You're right Selling. Frauds exist. Scams get uncovered... I don't know how these people truthfully face themselves with the way they con people ! Gaz is fine . He still fights the good fight. My statement was about the fact Midani has been doing this, ever since before Michael Jackson died, and Burned a few bridges forcefully with nobody knowing the full truth of who he was ... So these girls were conflicted even more, when Michael was murdered.” — 04/29/20018 .

• BestOfJoy — Well-Known Member

“I think some people are missing the point here. It's not about people believing Michael is or is not alive. The issue here is that "Peter Midani” has been pretending to be Michael for years... going all the way back to MySpace days.He has lured young women (many who are under age) in to believing he is Michael and, in doing so , these young girls have shared very personal information with him- pictures, their address, phone number, etc. I'd like to direct everyone to MJJC's official statement made in 2014 about Peter: OFFICIAL STATEMENT OF MJJCOMMUNITY TO THE MICHAEL JACKSON FANS, RE : "Peter Midani" (Bobby Anderson) .” — April 29, 2018 .

• SellingOutSouls — 24K CoughDrops

“I understand. The problem is, our hands are tied because, these people have been given facts upon facts to prove he’s a fraud, and people still choose to believe in him. You can’t help those who refuse to be helped. I spent a good 5-6 years, after Michael died , trying to keep fellow fans from falling for the schemes and lies of frauds, but eventually realized that, if people refuse to consider the facts they are given to stop supporting these schemers, then they’re getting exactly what they’ve bargained for ! How many frauds have been exposed in the last 9 years alone and, yet, you still have naive MJ fans that refuse to use some common sense and research things, before giving people their trust and many times their hard earned money?Just look at how many dumb ass fans still follow Karen Faye despite the AEG trial exposing her for the “backstabbing c*nt” that she is ! Perhaps it’s because I’ve already reached my limits with age, but I just don’t have the time or energy to keep trying to pull these people’s heads out of the sand to force feed these people the truth, regarding the frauds among the fan community.” — April 29, 2018 .

• CHLOEXHALLE — Public Relations Agent & Lawyer.

“This shit is gonna be in history books about Michael. Mark my words. The "twin soul" shit too. I need to know why MJ fans (particularly women) are always so fucking stupid to believe shit like this ?! And it has nothing to do with age cause some of these people are over 25, and even as old as 40. Edit: Anyway I remember Pearl J from my early Twitter days. The bish was nuts then. I'm surprised she's still going over 6 years later !” — April 29, 2018.

• Xscape — *The dark thoughts in your head*

“In my opinion, I think if one focuses on trying to push anything down another's throat, It will fail. Knowledge is power and can help those people who actually DO want the truth and need support. Like Pearl Jr , for example. Her response was the frame was a mask, but Come on.. It's clear that's no mask. Why would anybody wear a mask in their home on their own computer when they weren't expecting to be seen ? Top that with, he looks rough in this pic. He wasn't planning on it happening ! Karma is a bitch !! But still Pearl tries selling her hand with the mask excuse. Nuts! “ — 04/29/2018 .

• TrayC — I love to tour.

“See, I'm of the opinion that Pearl doesn't even believe herself that it's MJ anymore (maybe she did think it was him years ago)... but she can't back track now, she's gone too far ! It would be admitting that all her 'work' her book, DVDs etc are BS ! She couldn't possibly admit that , without some pretty harsh repercussions. So she will justify any evidence to the contrary. Until the end of time ... “ — 04/29/2018.

• SellingOutSouls — 24kCoughDrops

“At the end of the day, the victims of these schemes have to be the ones to report the fraud ; but even then, it doesn’t necessarily mean anything would come of it, because it would likely fall under a civil complaint and, at the end of the day, some just don’t feel like much will be accomplished, by attempting civil action .” — 04/29/2018.

• TrayC — I love to tour

“Well she claims her work is 100% factual ! That is false advertizing ! But yeah, I'm talking more about her reputation as an investigative journalist. But I guess that's not exactly that high either ! — April 29, 2018.

• SellingOutSouls — 24kCoughDrops

“That’s still something they’d refer for civil litigation and that type of stuff takes too much time and money. It ends up being easier to just cut your losses and never look back ! Now, maybe if enough people organized a class action suit, there’d be a glimmer of hope that she’d be shut down, but it would still rely too much on hearsay and certain unknowns.” — April 29, 2018 .

• BarbaraLee — Well-Known Member

“Interesting ! I remember the statement and the exposing on MJJC, in 2014, and wondered why Gaz cared so much about it... it seemed pretty absurd to me ! But I didn't know Peter had 12K followers and it had been going on for years and years ! Jeez !! — 04/29/2018 .

• NOT ALL MEN — Well-Known Member

“So I have a confession for y'all . For years, before Michael's death, I was part of the King of Pop message board. I, along with other MJ fans, downloaded this program called Paltalk (before Skype, or before the popularity of Skype). Myself and other MJ fans would all gather in the chat . And also, if you had a microphone or headset of some kind, you can actually speak in the chat instead of type. Well, guess who would also be in the chat? "Peter Pan PYT," or "Peter Midani." Often, he'd take the mic and impersonate Michael. And a lot of us enjoyed it. It sounded scarily like Michael ! However, this shit ended up being concerning because there were girls in this chatroom who ACTUALLY THOUGHT that he was the REAL Michael Jackson (this was during 2004/2005). I remember feeling creeped out by all of this. Obviously, it wouldn't really be Michael, but so many girls thought it was ! One of my friends from the KOP board who was also on Paltalk, she was on the phone with one of the girl's parents to tell them that that wasn't really Michael Jackson. Just someone impersonating his voice. She did this while she had the mic on Paltalk. I haven't heard this fraud's MJ's impersonation voice since then, but at the time, I thought he was really good. He sounded convincingly like Michael. Then years later, after I lost my moderation status on the KOP board over something petty, there was a huge thread, there, about "Peter Midani" because there were a few girls on the site who got conned. I don't remember the full story, so if there was anyone who was there on the kOP board at the time, if you can clarify, that would be nice. But, to my surprise, it was the same guy that we're talking about here. But these girls thought it was really Michael. He wrote them poetry, and all kinds of crazy claims ! The gullibility of these women amazes me ! How these women cling on to every dude's saying-and-action, without a thought ?! It's like all senses and thinking skills are thrown out the window, and they're ready to accept and believe, and do the most for him . But, more than that, is that not only has this guy been doing this BEFORE Michael passed, but years after, taking advantage of women and girls. Michael is supposed to be dead (he is), and here ‘Peter’is, the proof that Michael is alive, and taking advantage of these desperate BeLIEvers for his morbid and selfish reasons !And don't even get me started on Pearl Jr. She's an embarrassment to black women everywhere !” — April 29, 2018 .

• TrayC — I love to tour.

“When people wonder how on earth anyone could be so naive as to get sucked into lies like this, it's placing the blame on them, instead of the manipultors. The majority of people who fall into these traps aren't like you, with a normal life etc. Maybe they are children who are too trusting, they could have mental health issues, some people lean on things like this as a form of escape from whatever horrible shit is going on in their lives. This is what is so sad about it ! it's those type of people that Pearl and Peter are manipulating. I know there isn't really much we can do, but it just disgusts me. “ — 04/29/2018 .

• ShalaShalingay — Well Known Member

“ But could Gaz help ? I mean, shouldn't this ‘Peter’ man be investigated by police for soliciting young females online ? I'm sure that must be illegal ! I don't think with freedom of speech that much can be done about the Pearl Jr. woman. I can only imagine the conspiracy talk when it will be his 10 year next year. It will be a circus .” — 04/29/2018 .

• TrayC — I love to tour .

“I don't know Gaz so I dont know. I am not a member of his forum. From what I hear he already tried to do something but I really don't know. A member of MJJC would be better placed to speak on that than me...” — 04/29/2018

• Realtk92 — Unapologetically Real

“In the case of Michael, he was a larger-than-life-figure that ruled the Pop Culture world for over 40 years ! His impact, influence and contribution to Music and Culture was and is something that had not been seen before. He has become an Immortal figure and for many it is very hard to accept he is no longer here anymore. With Tupac, they haven't found the person that killed him and they continue to release new music from his vault. That is why there is speculation around his death. “ — 04/29/2018 .

• Xscape — *The dark thoughts in your head*

“Let me take a crack and try my best to explain. Peter Midani used the same handle he always used as the email Addy to contact him by, that's how its known it's the same person as the imposter on KOPD board. Now of course, Peter cries Hacking, but that's his m.o. ..it's always an imposter, someone else when it isn't. Anyway, a moderator of that board befriended Midani through friends of hers and believed it was Michael Jackson as well. Later on, that moderator was approached by someone having doubts about the situation. This moderator kept the situation under wraps and bullied the person who came to them with their concerns to try and intimidate them into silence. The girl went over the mod's head. Hell broke loose at one point. It's like the one thing you just don't discuss there. People would rather forget. But I am, personally, of the opinion it's a network of people conning and conniving together. They think they got a good act going. Well busted ... EDIT : I want to be clear about the moderator here and note that the person apologized and lost the position over what happened, but went on to better themselves and change their bullying ways.” — 04/29/2018 .

• Awesomegirl015 — Minding Your Business

“According to the NYPD, they found Tupac’s killer years ago and have evidence but, because the guy was killed two years after Tupac, he was never convicted ! It was revealed in the tv series documentary about pac and biggie. The guy pac stomped out that night was the one who killed him. His uncle basically snitched years ago in order to save himself from having to go to jail. Let me see if I can post a clip... (it’s on Netflix). I agree with what you said about Michael , though ... He has become Immortal ! — 04/29/2018 .

• Xscape — *The dark thoughts in your head*

“Michael... It's like... somehow, people forgot he was a human being, regardless of his Talent, Wealth, and Life . He was ultimately destined to do what 100% of creatures of Earth have done and that was have a life span. They bring up he loved magic and illusion. Ok... So did Houdini, people ! It's us that yearned so much for him ! We wanted Redemption and Justice for him , because he deserved a happy life, after all he shared with the world. The world kicked him and spit him out. They’re STILL trying to rewrite his history and erase his true character from it. He deserved better than to be murdered ! To be abused and neglected right under our noses ! And, yet, Michael swallowed the blame as a drug addict, when he wasn't sleeping nights. He was very sleep deprived. But let's take the account of the murderer as gospel truth of Michael supposedly asking repeatedly for sedatives when evidence points to that version being a lie. Michael never woke up after the first sedative was given. That's what the evidence shows. Murray drowned him in drugs. He never had a chance ! It's just more injustice against Michael as ever and repeats in the media. People ignore Michael was murdered ! ‘Nope. Drug addict !’ When Court evidence and doctor’s records and testimony tell another story, the media muted. Typical media ! One day it WILL be set right though. Michael deserves at least that much in his honor ! Anyway, Hell ... You guys are reading this and can see how all of what happened to Michael hurts and angers me ! Well, some just can't come to grips with the idea that Michael was more vulnerable than was known, and was abused and betrayed, repeatedly, by those who should have had his back. A few of these clowns, MJ fans actually still think did right by Michael and loved him, because not everyone followed the AEG trial . This just wasn't supposed to happen like this for him. And Michael was their inspiration in life ! They have to find him again, because they can't feel like they can move on. Some live abused lives ... It’s tragic in some cases ! As a Michael Jackson fan since childhood, I am grateful to have grown up being inspired and spellbound by him. He was a friend, when I had no friend in my corner, giving me encouragement to believe in myself and my dreams. My heart aches for some other answer for Michael, too ... not enough to swallow a lying illusion though. There's been enough lies and crap in this fan base, people picking on us cause they think we’re an easy target ! We still have time to carry on Michael's legacy and pass it down to generations ! “. — April 29, 2018 .

[deberiaestarescribiendo]

Saint Jude's Miracle: A Javier Peña x OFC (Isa) Fanfic (Chapter II)

Summary: Chapter two is a little plot heavier than Chapter 1. Javier wakes up the next morning after the raid he had attended as a consultant for the DEA and the questions he avoided during the night are still very much unanswered and Isa, his wife, needs to know more about what’s going on. The second part of the chapter is in the past so we get to know how Javi got to be a consultant and how this affect his family life.

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Domestic Javi!, fluff, implied sexy times. Spanish and thoughts in cursive, translations are between parenthesis right after the dialogue line.

A/N: Hey, thanks to everybody that liked and reblogued. I was a bit weary of uploading this ‘cos this fic feels more like a characters study than any other thing. I’m just fascinated by Javi, from this chapter plot will move faster. S.

Chapter 1

Double life

"Daddy, wake up" Elvira grabs her father's arm that rests languidly at the side of the bed and shakes it until he answers:

“Morning" his face smashed against the pillows and his brown hair disheveled

"Good morning" she kisses him on the cheek and stays really close to his face, still pretty much asleep Javi starts snorting softly again “Daddy wake up!”

"You're hungry?" Javier clears his throat and opens widely his eyes as to convince his body that it has to get up. Elvi grins at him, with those honey eyes and that crooked smile she is the cutest creature on earth.

"You lost another one" he points at her mouth

"Yeah, yesterday, it was moving really funny so mami convinced me to get it out. I didn't even cry!" She tells proudly

"Such a strong girl! Let's get you a good breakfast then, what do you want?"

She smirks devilish and looks over Javier’s shoulder to make sure her mother doesn’t hear, but she finds her laying on bed completely naked and she seems puzzled for a second

"Why is mummy naked?"

"Oh" Javier pushes the covers over Isa that sleeps soundly. "You want those sugary things...the captain..."

"Cap’n Crunch!" Elvira raises her small arms excited

"Yeah, let's get those"

Javier adjusts his underwear under the sheets making sure everything is in place and gets out of bed. He lifts Elvira to his chest while she giggles.

"I love you, daddy" she holds his face on his little hands and he thinks his heart is about to explode.

"I love you too" Javier kisses her forehead, resting his child's head on his just for a second. He feels how the tangles around his heart become undone with her small, warm body against his. Everything seems kinder, happier, like if all of the sudden sunshine had pierced him deep inside where he hid his fears, regrets and pain.

He smells her hair for a second and then leaves her gently on the ground

"Let's eat"

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

The light between the curtains is like a knife to her eyes even under the covers. Her body is exhausted, her muscles relaxed and unwilling to cooperate to get her up. Isabel had heard her daughter’s laughter but thought that Javier could handle the situation and make up for the time he had expend who knows where the day before.

She doesn’t complain about being busy all the time with Elvira, she actually really likes it and is dreading the moment when summer will be over and she’ll have to spend the day alone with Elvi being at school. But every day she finishes the daily routines tired and instantly falling asleep when she goes to bed, after juggling between doing the chores and entertaining her daughter. It has been months since Javier’s head was elsewhere.

Knowing she is not gaining any more sleep, she gets up. The heat of Texas comes through the glass windows and she feels that even as naked as she is she could melt.

Isa puts on one of the big, old, soft t-shirts that Javier rarely uses and a pair of his shorts. Wearing his clothes, with his scent still lingering on them, is one small solace she finds when he’s away. She takes her nightgown and panties and throws them in the laundry bin, seeing Javier‘s clothes from last night, she grabs them and inspects the pockets before throwing it with the rest of clothes. She finds a few coins, a pen and a half emptied Marlboro packet that she squeezes on her hand. Maldito veneno (Damned poison)

At the kitchen table, Elvira is telling every single detail of her pool day at the neighbor’s house that Javier had missed. When Isa arrives, she hugs her daughter from behind and kisses her head before grabbing a cup of coffee from the kitchen counter.

"Look, daddy prepared breakfast" she says stuffing her mouth with those multicolored cereals.

"Oh, I see, he grabbed a bowl, poured the cereal and the milk and voilà." She kneels beside her but is smiling directly at Javier. “Daddy of the year” she raises her cup and Javi smacks his lips but says nothing.

"No me diste los buenos días, princesa" (You didn’t say good morning to me, princess) Isabel holds Elvira’s hair and starts to untangle her mane with her fingers.

"Buenos días, mami" she kisses her leaving a sticky mark on her skin.

"After that you will eat a piece of fruit, me oiste?"

"Sí" she smiles engulfing another full spoon too big for her little mouth .

"And I don't get a good morning?" Javier adds looking at his wife over the cup of black coffee.

Isabel walks slowly towards him and brushes her lips on his forehead. She opens her right hand in front of him, the Marlboro packet squished inside.

"Morning"

With a dramatic gesture, she opens the trash can and throws the plastic packet angrily. Javi observes her but says nothing.

"You're mad at daddy?" Elvira asks looking between the two her little face concerned.

"A little" Isa responds

"Why?" Her little voice breaks

"I misbehaved. I didn't listen to your mother" Javier answers and pinches his kid chubby cheek softly “That’s why you have to listen to her always”

"Have you apologized?" Elvira leaves the bowl aside as to fully focus on this pressing matter and crosses her arms over the table

"I have, many times" Javier faces his wife with a smirk

"Twice" she clarifies “and they're not enough"

"Never" Javier sips coffee from his cup and winks at his wife. Elvira looks at them confused.

"Mami if he has apologized I think you have to forgive him"

“Yeah, I guess I have to" Isabel takes a sit at Javier's right side and holds his hand on hers. The simple golden ring in both their hands makes her feel a pinch on her heart, she was so young and so scared when they got married not knowing what she could expect from him and, and on top of that, having a newborn baby that demanded all her attention.

Now, 6 years later she can even begin to express how fiercely she loves her daughter and how all the sacrifices she made were all worthy for her beautiful baby.

Javier is another thing. Sometimes she thinks of him as the sea, something you can see, touch and be submerged in, but in the end there is a depth you are not able to understand. There are things that lie on the bottom of his heart and mind that she is not welcome to visit. And she loves him, and has an ardent passion and need for him but she feels as if he’s slipping through her fingers every time she tries to hold him.

"Can I finish breakfast watching TV, please?" Elvi’s question gets Isa out of her thoughts.

"Yes, but grab an apple"

The little girl jumps out of her chair already chanting some song she knows from her favorite cartoon show.

"So what was the operation that you had last night?"

Isa usually asks him about his job every morning and Javi always answers briefly without many details, mainly because he is not that interested but when he decided to counsel for the police, she started to insist more, trying to calm her worries, but Isabel grows more and more anxious with his vague answers. She had met him after leaving the DEA, and though he hadn’t told her about his life in Colombia, she knows that Javi was a broken man, lost in dark memories. In those six years of marriage he had been better, he was still the same, but he smiled more, was kinder, more open. But the shadow of his old self lurks through the house and Isa feels how her anxiety twists her stomach watching his husband crumble before her eyes.

"There were a few trucks passing the borders, they suspected they were hiding drugs” he finished his coffee and casually eats cereal from the box

"Why on earth would you be there at the moment they caught the transport? I mean, why were you on the raid?"

"You’re asking if I was ever in danger. The answer is no, I'm here, am I not?" Javi took her hand that still holds him and kisses her knuckles.

"Yes, you are, but my question is..."

"But" he sighs

"You're smoking again; you are not sleeping quite right. You think I haven't noticed? What is going on?"

"I'm fine"

"You're stressed"

"I said I'm fine"

"Then why are you back to the old habits?"

"You really are going to just drink a coffee for breakfast?"

"Don't change the conversation, Peña"

"Look, there's nothing to worry about. I was just there to help them out since I’m experienced” he turns the chair closer to her and poses his hands over her knees softly caressing her with the pads of his fingers “But everything is fine”

"Alright" she concedes "so is it done? The operation?" She looks at him from under her eyelashes

"I don't know, maybe they need me a few more times"

She’s about to say something when he presses his lips against hers and gets up saying "I'm going to see if I can repair the AC, it's fucking hot in here"

"Language" Isa says before he leaves the kitchen.

She finishes the coffee her gaze fixed on the trash can where she has thrown the cigarettes. Too nervous to eat anything she starts cleaning up the kitchen. The lasagna from last night still intact on the counter, the repetitive songs on the TV is loud and she feels the headache coming.

“Elvi turn it down, please!” The girl ignores her the first time, and a second...and a third time.

“¡Elvira Peña, baja la tele ahora mismo!” (Elvira Peña, turn down the TV right now!) She screams coming to the living room.

The kid pouts and turns it down looking angrily at her; the apple she took is still intact by her side “And eat your fruit!”

Gosh, this is what I’ve become, the annoying wife and the tiring mum

Javier doesn’t know many things, but one thing that is always true is that shit follows him like a dog after a bone at every step of his life. After all the chaos that occurred with Cali and him leaving the DEA, he had spent a few month with Chucho back in Laredo. But soon enough, the atmosphere grew thicker consuming the air in his lungs and he woke up every day sweating and out of breath. Dreams of blood were leaking from the darkest parts of his memory polluting his nights.

“Mijo, ¿qué pasó allá?” (Son, what happened there?)his father asked every time and he found himself out of words. Not because he hadn’t them in him, but out of fear that if he began speaking the words would choke him and the disappointment he’d see on his father’s eyes. If they only knew he thought. If they only knew the things I did.

So after a time, he had to leave home again. It was better for both of them to be parted. Javier found the most boring job out there with his skills: Consulting companies that imported and exported things from Latin America. He translated documents, made calls in Spanish, and basically died a little every day in an office job, with bad coffee from a machine and many cigarettes each day to cope with the absolute weariness.

But again, shit followed him. StarsTextile Exports INC, nothing more than a normal company that passed, apparently, textile goods from South America to the US but you just had to dig a little to see the shady numbers they managed, a tangled list of companies’ names and banks in various tax havens. When he untangled all that mess what was left was a clear link to the biggest Cartel in Mexico. Shit. He even thought for a moment to let it pass, to just turn a blind eye like everybody did. But after many sleepless nights, he made the call.

“Agent Murphy”

“Hi, Steve, it’s Javier” he said softly suddenly feeling a little embarrassed of the time that had passed without calling his friend.

“Jav?!” Steve exclaimed “it’s been a long time...H-h-ow are you?”

“Fine, fine, you?”

“Great, I’m in Miami. But why you call me at the office? You alright?” he asked with a concerned tone.

“Yeah, it’s...well, maybe it’s nothing. But I need you to take a look at something”

“What exactly do you want me to check?”

“Some documents, I’ll send them to you”

“Great. Where are you now? Still at your pops?”

“No, well. I’m in Texas but I live with my wife.”

“Wait! what! you said wife?!” he exclaimed

“Yeah, yeah. Long story”

Javier had to hear his old college laugh for a good five minutes before he could say another word.

“I need to meet her. Gosh, I can’t believe it. Connie is gonna die when I tell her”

“Yeah...”

“Listen, I know you didn’t want to talk about you getting out and everything but I’d love to talk if you want. You know that...”

“I’ll send the documents right away, okay? You can call me at this number whenever you have any conclusion” he interrupted.

“Alright, Javi. It’s good to know from you. I’ll check those out”

Immediately after hanging up the phone, Javier felt like shit. He hadn’t contacted Steve, a good friend, in a long time. He knows his big out of the DEA would be a matter of a long conversation with him, a conversation he doesn’t want to have as he doesn’t want to tell all that to Chucho or Isa. Those days were gone, that crap was far away, he repeats to himself knowing that his memories have dark claws that hang on him like his shadow, reopening wounds he thought were healed.

After that brief phonecall, more followed. Steve and Javi found a perfect hour to talk when both Connie and Olivia and Isa and Elvi were asleep. They chatted about the documents, clearly there was something weird and Steve, though he could not confide anything to a former agent, agreed to disclosure tiny details. The DEA was behind StarsTextile Exports from months, but anytime they came close, they would hide again with dubious moves like changing company names, CEO’s and corporate headquarters.

“I see your instinct is still intact, Jav. You should still be with us” lamented Steve in one of their midnight conversations

“Yeah...but what can we do? nothing” Javi huffed

“We’ll see, I keep you informed”

“Yeah, thanks” he agreed but a little voice inside him replied why do you care? why do you still care?

“So, can you tell me about your wife? Connie keeps asking me for more information” Steve asked

“Her name is Isabel. She’s younger than me”

“Nice! Is she pretty?” the agent jested

“She is. We met at a bar; she was bartending for the summer while she was off college. I had just arrived after Cali” he explained

“She must be quite special. I mean, Jav...you left another at the altar” Steve replied shyly

“Well, that was another time and yes, she is...she is...a good woman and a good mother” Javi lay down on the sofa and turned his face towards the aisle, he could see the dim light of Isa’s nightstand lamp still on. She was always waiting for him to come to bed.

“How long did you wait to have the kid?”

“We didn’t. She got pregnant unexpectedly and then we got married” Javi sighed pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh! I don’t want to be indiscreet, but that’s why you married her?” Steve muttered

“Kinda, but as I said she’s an amazing woman”

“Are you happy?” Steve cut him

“What is this? Are you my therapist now?” Javi chuckled

“No! no! just Connie, well, Connie and I, we worried, we wanted to know if things were okay with you. It’s been a long time, Javi, and the things we saw... well, we’ve been through some shit”

“I’m fine” his voice cracked, the more he said those words the less meaning they got

“Fine, God, Javi Peña, a family man, I still can’t believe it”

Javi smiled

“Yeah me too”

“But it’s nice, it keeps you grounded. Now you have a place to come back”

“Right...”

And also thousands of questions, expectations, and nowhere to hide when all I want to do is be alone, he thought but didn’t say another word.

“It’s late and I don’t want to wake up the girls” he said before biding goodbye to Steve and promising to keep in touch.

A week after that conversation, Steve told him about the operation that the DEA was preparing at the frontier near Laredo. And last night, he rejoined the agents just as a consultant. But again shit followed him and they asked him to be present and advice in case they needed him.

Even though he was far up on a hill with a few other agents waiting for the transport to arrive, he heard clearly the gunshots and they left him with a terrible headache and a familiar yet horrible ring in his ears. He felt his heart beating hard and fast inside his chest. The rush, the thrill and the fear all very well-known to the old Javier and he could sense a part of him suddenly awake, begging for more, the tingling sensation on his muscles that he was doing what he was made for. It scared him. He had decided that he was through it all. He could not be back, but there he was, lecturing those agents, finding evidences where they looked clueless. He was made for this, and though he didn’t like the praise, he hadn’t felt as good about himself until that night.

But the DEA asked for more, always does. He had given them his all and they paid him with lies. But again he said yes to keep on going with this partnership and teach the field agents and give some advice on how you take down a cartel. Like if we actually won the war on drugs, like if we actually made things better

With all these, he kept Isa in the dark, giving just vague answers about who call him late at night and about what was going on at his job.

The look in her amber colored eyes breaks his heart with each lie he tells her. She had met a broken man in Laredo many summers ago, he never said anything really specific about his time in Colombia, but Isa was perceptive enough to see his cracks and shadows and everything he wanted to hide. She had lighted his life like a timid candle in the night, opening the darkest rooms of his mind and inundating them with her presence and comfort and domestic life.

There was no space for the old Javi, always running and burying his demons in alcohol, sex and cigarettes, in this new reality there were bills to pay, school supplies, family duties and morning conversations.

And at that moment, “family guy” Javi and the “ex-DEA but again working for the DEA” Javi were battling inside his mind making him feel like he was living a double life.

Half of him wishes to stay, go to the pool with Elvi, Sundays at his father’s house and hold Isa tight every night; but there again, the air grows thicker, the days are long and he misses the rush, the thrill, the only way of life he had known for so long.