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#i have motivation (for now) so i think i’m gonna try (lol)

tkaulitzlvr · 6 months

Note

hii can u pls do c0ckwarming with tom omg

STAY STILL - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: tom can’t wait any longer, but knows that you are too tired to fix his problem the way he wants you to. but you can’t deny the need slowly becoming mutual so, you decide to meet him halfway, and he doesn’t complain.

content: smut (not full sex, just what the req says lol)

a/n: thanku for the req!! SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING, hopefully this makes up for it! literally screaming and giggling whilst writing this (help), also the way he moves his tongue in this vid HELLO (need it inside me) ++there won’t be a part two (don’t hate me!) my upload schedule is just too irregular, i have a ton of requests and just don’t think i’d be able to write one, in the future if i’m less busy i may come back to this!!

“please baby, i’ll do all the work, i promise.” tom pleads for probably the tenth time, digging his head into the crook of my neck and placing open-mouthed kisses onto the skin, whining lowly against it. any other time, i would’ve given in the second his lips made contact with my neck, and he knows this, deciding to try his luck once again. however right now, the circumstances don’t work in tom’s favour, much to his annoyance. i am too tired to even properly decline his request, sighing loudly and shaking my head as my eyes flutter closed. this isn’t enough for tom, my lack of response not a concrete ‘no’, this all he needs to press himself against me once more, hoping that it would be just enough to push me toward that three letter word he has been longing for me to say. whilst our proximity doesn’t do that just yet, the frequent motion of tom’s hips rocking against my waist reminds me just how desperate he is, the hardness evident through his boxers - not that the cotton left much to be imagined anyway.

“baby i’m tired, tomorrow, okay?” i sigh out, half-heartedly pushing tom away as a frustrated groan leaves his lips. though he fails to see the mischievous grin that spreads across my face with the small push that i place to his chest when he flops beside me, clearly not understanding what i am doing. honestly, i wouldn’t have minded lazy sex - tom never complains when he does all the work and, if i give in, it will make him shut up, his whining already getting on my nerves, whether he is trying to irritate me or not. but, watching the way his face furrows in utter frustration, wincing every so often at the pain that begs for a release from underneath his boxers, gives me the motivation to tease him just a little more - but in the end, i am more than willing to give him what he wants, or at least, meet in the middle.

“fuck.” he mutters under his breath, wincing a little at my response, eyes squeezing shut as his chest heaves up and down, loud and shaky breaths escaping his lips, making it hard to close my eyes and finally fall asleep. i know that he won’t give up yet, so, i lay silently, wondering how long it will take for him to continue pleading me to let go and give him what he wants. and, as expected, not even two minutes pass before his hand snakes around my waist from behind? his body pressing itself firmly against my back.

“this isn’t gonna go away baby, shit- i’m sorry, just, please…let me do something.” he sighs out, a low whine following his plea, hand firmly squeezing my waist whilst his head buries itself into my neck, teeth digging into the skin softly. “fuck- need you so bad, please.”

a small laugh leaves my lips, stifled quickly once i purse them shut, thinking out loud as my amusement towards his desperation quickly becomes evident. tom stops his slow kisses against my neck, whipping his head upward in confusion, failing to see how i could possibly be laughing right now. “what’s so funny? seriously schatz, this fucking hurts. please, just let me take care of it. i won’t be long, just need to feel you.”

his voice reduces to a mumble, eyebrows knitting together once again, though a wave of relief visibly washes over his expression when i roll my eyes, sighing in -totally forged- annoyance, though he doesn’t recognise that. all he realises is that he is getting something, not even completely sure what, but in this moment, anything at all would be enough for him to release - he is far too desperate to be picky. soon enough, he hauls himself up, hurriedly undoing the button of his oversized jeans and tugging them from his frame, carelessly throwing them onto the floor. and god, if i had thought his problem looked bad through the denim, then i am quickly proven wrong, the firm print of his dick through his boxers almost painfully prominent. his hand brushes against it, the cotton of his underwear now creating more friction, his head falling backward as a low groan sounds from the back of his throat, showing just how sensitive he really is, and now i know that it won’t take a lot to give him what he craves.

he quickly moves to climb on top of me, not getting far as my hand rests flat against his bare chest, halting his movement. his eyebrows furrow in confusion, mouth opening to protest my resistance, though i interject, deciding that if he wants me that badly, then he shouldn’t complain about how he gets me.

“mmm, no. sit back baby, i want to try something.” i whisper, teeth grazing the skin just below his ear, tongue running over it afterward as his eyes flutter open and closed, mouth hanging open with a small smirk on his face. he nods his head quickly, sliding backward until his upper half rests against the headboard, head tilted upward and legs sprawled onto the bed. his hands however, fail to be so still, reaching outward hopelessly and grabbing me by my waist, fingers digging into the flesh as he pulls me on top of him.

he winces loudly once i sit directly on top of his chest, the sound soon turning into a low moan, mouth dropping downward into an ‘o’ shape at the dangerously addictive mix of pain and pleasure that i give him. i smirk in satisfaction at his desperation, finding it almost pitiful, watching intently at the way his eyes flutter, on the verge of closing, though they manage to stay half lidded, soon shooting open when my small fingers make contact with the waistband of his boxers. his breathing becomes more erratic, hands flying to my hips once more, chest rising up and down at an even faster pace. right now, wearing only a small pair of shorts and crop top appears to work perfectly in my favour, and tom’s, as his hands reach to pull the strap down, lips soon attaching themselves to my breast, whilst my own hands move my shorts down my body, tugging tom’s boxers down soon after.

his eyes are fixed on where our bodies connect once i line myself up, sliding down onto him at an agonisingly slow pace, wincing slightly at the feeling of being stretched out, going from being totally empty to so full within the space of a few seconds. tom is way out of it, and had been ever since i began to sink onto him, his mouth uttering low curses and grunts under his breath, nails digging into the flesh of my waist, teeth occasionally digging into his bottom lip.

“fuck schatz, yeah…you’re so tight, so good for me.” he utters when i bottom out, though his satisfaction doesn’t last long, eyes quickly opening once he realises that i am not moving, instead staying still with him still inside of me. he decides against questioning my behaviour, his hips beginning to thrust upwards as a slow pace, incoherent whines leaving his lips as he does so.

“ah ah ah…” i begin, lifting my hips upward and almost completely off of him, hand moving to rest firmly against his chest. he slows his movements, pushing my hips so that he is inside of me once again. “no moving baby, just let me sit. stay still, okay?”

i clench around him unconsciously, moaning quietly as he groans under his breath, clearly holding back from snapping his hips upward again. “fuck baby, you’re fucking killing me, you know that?” he confesses, shaking his head slowly, eyes lustful as they stare into my own, the pools of brown silently communicating exactly what he wants to do, the intent behind them nothing close to innocent. but, no matter how tempting it sounds to let him take control, to reverse the roles and have me pinned beneath him, thrusting in and out of me whilst muttering confirmations of how good i feel, how perfect i am, i enjoy seeing him like this, completely helpless underneath me, begging for something, anything, other than the teasing that i keep up, and i don’t intend on giving in.

“you wanted this, right?” i taunt, lips curving upward into an innocent smile, my thoughts anything but, aware of what i am doing, the frustration that takes over his expression proof of my success. “i thought you wanted me, like this…” my voice is low and suggestive, thick as honey, words as addictive as a drug, and he continues to take them all in. my lips make contact right next to his ear, slowly kissing just below it, digging my teeth in afterward, his hips jolting upward at the sensation. and if that wasn’t enough, when i adjust myself on top of him, moving my lips ever so slightly, that is when he loses it, head quickly rolling backward, mouth dropping open, a deep groan sounding from the back of his throat.

“oh my god, fuck- you’re driving me insane, please just- do something.” his voice is shaky, cut off by small groans, his tongue coming outward to play with his lip ring, flicking the silver metal in small circles, all whilst his eyes never leave my own, the desperation within them never diminishing.

“nope, you’ll live baby.” i state in response, leaning forward and resting my chest against his, wrapping my arm around his frame and sighing nonchalantly, closing my eyes. “i told you i was tired.” as i do so, he shifts his weight underneath me, slightly altering the angle that his dick rests inside of me, his eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. no matter how much he wants something more, he doesn’t refuse my embrace, wrapping his arms around my back, his hands tracing circles along the bare skin, lifting up my crop top and resting underneath it.

minutes pass like this, my walls clenching around him every so often, getting him just a little more riled up, enough to make him sigh out in pleasure and groan at the feeling of slight relief, though it is never enough to satisfy him, just enough to keep him on the verge of losing his mind, to keep him guessing, waiting for something more than just being inside of me. this feels like more of a punishment than a reward to him, the frustrated groans he lets out only seeming to get louder, though he doesn’t give in, knowing that he could thrust upwards into me - all it would take is a slight movement of his hips and he would have me, yet he holds back, almost testing his own willpower, even though we both know that it is non-existent, no matter how hard he tries to convince himself otherwise.

and it doesn’t take long for him to finally reach his breaking point, no longer able to handle just having me here, sitting beneath me helplessly, his mind encouraging him to move, whilst his body is too desperate, too completely needy, to even comply with his unholy thoughts. instead, he voices them as a request, trying once again to elicit something from my own still body.

“kiss me.” he mutters into the silence as my head remains rested in the crook of his neck, hearing slightly muffled. though the quiet doesn’t show it, he is becoming more restless, breathing getting louder and faster, his hold on me tighter, almost inaudible whines sounding from the back of his throat every so often.

“hm?” i mumble half-heartedly, lacking the energy to lift my head upward from where it had been resting, staying still within his embrace instead. my thumbs trace the firmness of his back, travelling over each bump, each muscle, all coated with a thin line of sweat, all of it evidence of just how needy he is for this.

“i said kiss me.” he repeats, somewhere on the verge of desperation and frustration, clearly not willing to let me take control of him anymore. as he speaks, his hand moves from my back, making contact with my chin, using it to lift my head upward so my eyes look straight into his own, faces inches apart. warm and heavy, his breath fans against my face when he speaks, the close proximity and admitted need for him creating a light shade of pink to etch upon my cheeks, though it is nothing compared to the helplessness that tom displays, his words proving it if that isn’t enough. “no more games. just fucking kiss me.”

something inside me snaps. whether it is the close proximity, his enticing gaze, or the time that i have spent on top of him, doing nothing to pleasure either of us, it doesn’t matter anymore. all that i am certain of is that i no longer want to tease him, placing my lips onto his quickly. the kiss is slow and gentle as i initiate it, tom reciprocating it, his shoulders quickly relaxing as he already receives some relief after waiting for so long. though it is too soft, too reluctant, too tender for him. he wants more, and he wastes no time in acting on his desire, pressing his lips more firmly against my own, deepening the kiss and biting down roughly onto my bottom lip as it parts in response, allowing him to slip his tongue inside.

and when my hips jolt upwards slightly at his sudden movement, he soon realises that he has me where he wants - still inside of him, and that realisation is all it takes for his hips to snap upwards, thrusting in and out of me at a fast pace. his hands find my lower back, trailing down to my ass and roughly cupping the flesh, using them to quicken his thrusts and allow my bounces to meet them, fingers leaving harsh red marks in place of the soft skin. the distance between our faces only increases beyond a few inches once i let out a loud moan, smiling in satisfaction.

he places one final kiss on my lips, flipping us over in one swift motion whilst staying inside of me. i cry out when his tip hits the sensitive spot inside of me, though i soon play it off, attempting to return my facial expression to something as close as neutral as i can get it - on the inside, i am screaming, silently begging for him to carry on. but he doesn’t. his eyes twinkle with satisfaction, enjoying the way i lay helplessly beneath him, even though moments ago, the roles were completely reversed. he picks up on my attempt to act casual, aware that i am just as desperate as he is, if not more, my entire being transparent, almost pathetically easy to decipher to him.

“this whole nonchalant act doesn’t suit you baby. you can stop acting like you don’t want it, we both know you’ll be screaming in a couple minutes, watch.”

those are the final words he says before reconnecting his lips to mine and speeding up his thrusts, soon proving his bold statement to be nothing short of the truth, making my temporary dominance seem a fragment of my imagination within seconds.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #tokiohotel #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz x reader #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #kaulitz #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz

531 notes · View notes

blublublujk · 4 months

Text

bound 2 (falling in love)

oneshot

word count: 6.5k

genre: fwb to lovers

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary:

You and Yoongi were okay with being friends with benefits... until you weren't.

warnings: i tried to focus on fluff (did you catch it or did i fail), explicit sexual content; unprotected sex (they make love to each other), choking and breath play (hello it's yoongi), multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, crying (is it really my ff if there's no crying involved), creampie, very cute aftercare and i think that’s all, this is more sweet than anything lol

a.n: believe it or not this wasn't apart of my drafts i wrote this all one night because i couldn't sleep so thank my insomnia for this, it was about time i write about yoongi :D

also i noticed a lot of you are reading it was destiny and love always wins and i wish you guys wouldn't only because i plan to rewrite some of it and continue them at a further time (chaptered ffs are so hard for me rn since i don't have all the time in the world to dedicate myself to them but i promise to be back with those two series) thank you for everyone who takes time to read what i write it really means so much and your comments have been so motivating. thank you so fucking much for 2k notes on good girl, gone bad i havent seen numbers like that ever im so so grateful, thank you from the bottom of my heart. i'll try to be back one or two more times this month and happy late birthday to me hehe <3

—> m.list

—> welcome me on ao3 & twt

—-

It happened again.

Another failed date to add to the sad list of people that simply will never workout for you.

The list was growing longer as months passed. When you started this list, it was barely the start of a very hot summer. Probably the hottest it’s been in years, one can only assume the winter will not be any easier.

And you were right. Winter was only beginning and it was brutally cold. The streets were moist from the previous night of harsh rainfall.

What better time to date and settle down than now. When the world gives you rain, settle for the warm arms of a lover.

Unfortunately, you made a grave mistake thinking this would come easy. Ten first dates later and you are still very single and loverless.

It is not easy to go out during a time like now, suffering at the sight of happy couples and their stupid happy lives. Really, it should disgust you. It used to. The whole concept of devoting your entire life to someone. The need to constantly feel the tender touch of another person. The desire to fall in love and do it all over again, you get it now. At least, you think you do.

“I don’t think this is gonna work.” The words fall from your mouth in a quiet rush. The man across you sits in silence before he smiles in his loss.

“Don’t worry, I figured. It seems your mind was elsewhere. I know you don’t want to pursue anything romantically, and that’s fine with me, but is everything okay?”

Is everything okay? Well currently, yeah you’re okay. As for your heart, it’s heavy and strangely, you feel there’s a hole in your chest and it needs to be filled. That would fix things, you think. You have been single for so long that you forgot what it was like to love and cherish someone. Not that you have ever truly loved or cherished anyone, but you’ve gotten close. If a silly relationship you had in your sophomore year of high school counts. Then yes, you’ve totally been in love.

“I’m okay. Thanks for asking. I didn’t mean to lead you on, if it ever felt like I did.” The apology seems bitter in your mouth. Another failed fucking attempt. How difficult can dating be? Have you really been this disconnected with the world around you?

“Don’t stress it! Things happen. I hope you can find what you’re looking for. See you… around?” The man’s understanding response makes you feel worse. Maybe you should consider deleting Tinder and finding love naturally, if that’s still a thing in the contemporary life.

“Yeah, totally!” And like that you’re off to the next. Giving yourself plenty of time to bathe in your disappointment and miserably cry about your failed attempts at finding what you’ve been missing. Who knew dating could be so difficult?

The walk back home is just as cold as the outcome of today’s date. Your date insisted he could drive you home and if not that then pay for a cab, but you didn’t live too far from the restaurant you both met at. Though he insisted, you figured this walk could refresh you after yet another failure. You were starting to regret it as the cold wind started roughly hitting your skin. Preserving the chilly weather, you genuinely couldn’t wait to get home and wrap yourself in a bundle of warm blankets and comfortable clothes.

Cold hands struggle to open your door, you blow on them with warm puffs of breaths, soon making your way in and getting comfortable in your humble apartment.

yoon: you up?

And that, that is what made this harder. The fact that you knew there was someone completely capable of loving and caring for you the way you desired. You have seen it with your own eyes. Every time you ended up in his bed, in his arms, you felt it. Deep down you know something is there and that something beats everything else. Maybe you’re just delusional, but you look for him in everyone else and you hate it. Hate because you will never be anything more than his personal little whore that comes at the sound of his call.

me: yeah

Normally, you aren’t dry over texts, especially not with him so he’ll see right through you. You’re hoping for once, he can ignore it.

He won't.

yoon: you ok?

me: been better

yoon: wanna talk about it?

me: no, i'm ok

yoon: ok, wanna come over?

Yes, because during a time like this all you want is the comfort and warmth of someone else’s touch and Yoongi has never failed at giving that to you. But he is not yours.

And you are not his.

me: not feeling well. sorry.

yoon: sick?

A white lie never hurt anyone.

me: yeah, throat hurts

yoon: im sorry

me: it's not your fault maybe another time.

Though you really shouldn’t say that. There should be no next time. That way you don’t suffer any longer and drag him down with you, considering everything you’ve been feeling and dealing with lately. It’s not fair to Yoongi, but especially yourself.

He doesn’t reply anymore and you can’t even hide your disappointment. You aren’t disappointed at him, okay maybe a little bit at him, but mainly yourself and your recently found complicated feelings.

You and Yoongi started this whole mess a year ago, before you even realized what you truly wanted. It started off with subtle flirting here and there. They say not to mess with coworkers, given that it can complicate things at work and one should never play with their main source of income, but you did it anyway. You are still young and he only made you feel younger, like a teenage girl crushing over her forbidden crush at church. It was silly, but Yoongi made it easy.

The flirting turned to one thing, then another.

“We shouldn’t, not here.” Yoongi had you pinned outside the club you both worked at, leaving trails of wet kisses down your throat.

“Five more minutes.” His words were muffled into your skin as his hands explored your body. Yoongi’s touch was always way too soft for his own good and you fell victim to his deadly warmth.

“If Mr. Kim finds out, he’ll kill us and fire us both.” That was a bit dramatic on your part and you swore you felt the taller smiling against your neck.

Yoongi drops one last kiss on your cheek as his hot breath hits your ear. “Not if I kill him first.”

You gasped, pushing him off you with a quick smack to his chest. “D-Don’t even joke like that.”

Yoongi just laughed.

“Okay, okay baby.” The term of endearment fell from his lips too easily and you melted into the dark night. “See you after work?”

You only nodded, not being able to deny his temporary warmth and sweet presence. Then he dropped a kiss on your lips, leaving you just as quick as when he first found you. You were fucked.

From there, it only got worse for your sake. Your heart could only take so much.

Really, you should blame things on him. It was his fault you fell in love with him and his stupidly soft hands. It was all his fault! He left you no choice but to love the feel of his lips against your skin, to easily melt under his soft gaze, and find comfort in his unnecessarily warm bed. Yoongi was perfect. Everything you could ever want.

That’s why it was so fucking hard. Dating was hard enough, but after feeling Yoongi’s intimate touch, you were a complete goner. Though he was far from it, Yoongi touched you like you were his and he would fuck you like a lover would. Kissing and making love to you as if you were the most beautiful woman on Earth. It was all too much.

Fuck, you really needed to get a grip.

The knock on your door makes you jump from your couch.

Ten minutes longer and you would have fallen asleep exactly where you were lying. In outside clothes and all. You didn’t even bother taking off the outfit you had carefully planned thinking that this lucky outfit would have finally taken you somewhere. It didn’t.

“Coming!” There’s not a single person that should be outside your door, especially at this hour. Your feet make their way to the door regardless and the blood from your face drains when you see the person standing behind the door.

Quickly, you unlock your front door, rushing the taller inside. “Hurry! It’s freezing! What are you doing out here?”

Yoongi’s cheeks are surely frozen, a pink dust decorates his cheeks and the tip of his nose. It almost makes him look cute. You were far more gone than you imagined.

He hustles inside, carrying a fairly large brown bag with him. He brought… groceries?

“Took you long enough.” The taller one makes himself at home, laying his bag on your coffee table.

“What are you even doing here?” You ask again.

He ignores you. “Thought you said you were sick. You don’t look very sick?”

Yoongi looks at you with a questioning look, his eyes wander your outfit and guilt starts eating your insides.

You cross your arms, an attempt to hide yourself in shame, but what’s done is done. “I- I had plans.”

“Yeah, I see that.” He simply says, standing awkwardly in your living area.

If this doesn’t convince you to delete that forsaken app for the sake of your dignity and shameful behavior, you don’t know what will.

“Anyways, w-what brings you here?”

“Brought you some stuff.” His hand waves over to the bag he carried inside.

“Stuff?” You question, a bit dumbfounded, planted still in your place.

“Tea, cough drops, some soup I made earlier this week. Oh and flowers.” Yoongi doesn’t seem at all embarrassed or fazed about the situation. Not that he should be, but he speaks with a puff to his chest, as if he wanted to ensure you understood his every word and action. Like any concerned lover would be. As if he was yours and you were his.

Oh.

This was so so bad. For you and your weak heart. Fuck.

“I-“

He cuts you off before you even get to speak. “I don’t know if you’ll like it. It’s just some plain seaweed soup. Usually helps me when I’m sick. I’m not sure what flowers you like, or if you even like flowers. Do you? Their tulips. I did a bit of research before. My mom likes tulips. I figured you might like them too.”

He did research? Double fuck!

Yoongi was nervously rambling, now he was slightly embarrassed. Pink flushes his cheeks and it wasn’t the weather’s doing this time.

“Yoongi…” You start breathlessly and in disbelief.

“What?” He nearly stutters, his hand is shaking. He’s nervous. Who would have thought?

“Why.” Is all you manage to ask.

“You were sick.” Is all he replies. As if things were really that simple. What next? Would he come rushing to the hospital if you suddenly fell ill? God forbid, but it was a valid question.

What was going on? For a second, you entertain the idea. Maybe he fell in love between the blurry lines of this complicated relationship. Were the shared intimate memories too special for him to forget too? You weren’t sure anymore, but what did this all mean? Maybe he loves you, as much as you love him.

Thoughts keep spinning and you wish there was an easier way to turn off your brain. Not now.

“I know, but why? Why all this? Why for me?” Your vulnerability is showing and it makes you feel weak. Maybe your hands are shaking too.

“I don't understand?” Yoongi searches for the answer in your glossy eyes, he’s tempted to reach out and comfort you. Have you in his hands, but he’s too coward. He doesn’t want you to feel the shiver of his touch right now. His vulnerability peaks through as well.

Why not you? It’s always going to be you.

“I-I’m nothing to you.” There’s a shiver again and then you break.

Yoongi doesn’t care anymore. He’ll consider the consequences later. Right now, none of it matters.

His hands hold your face, ready to wipe the tears that threaten to leak from your precious eyes. He hopes his hands aren't cold anymore from standing outside for so damn long, but he couldn’t stop himself, in his selfishness and all.

His hands shake slightly, trying to stay strong as he lays it all on the table. “Y/N, you’re everything to me.” He whispers, eyes never leaving yours.

You lay your own hands on his, you feel so delicate around him when you wrap warm hands around his cold wrists.

“I-I am?” You ask between sniffles. His hands are still pretty cold, but they’ll soon warm up against your soft skin. Nobody knows how desperately you need to be touched until you are and then it’s like little fireworks spark inside your body. It consumes you in the best way possible.

“Of course. I thought I made that obvious.” His eyes are soft, different to how he typically looks at you, but you’ve seen these same eyes before. They are no stranger. It’s similar to the look he gives you when you catch him staring at you while you are deep in work. He pretends to look away as if he wasn’t admiring you from afar and you pretend that you don’t notice his curious eyes. It’s the same look he has after you both end up in heated makeout sessions, behind the rusty club you both work at. And it’s definitely the same look he has while he settles on top of you, whispering sweet words of praise and promise.

Nothing should feel different but it just does, there’s something in the way he looks down at you that lets you know that everything you’ve been searching for has always been right here. Right where you’ve been all along.

The taller leans in and you freeze struggling to keep your eyes on his. Yoongi’s thumb brushes against your cheek with a soft touch. You were fragile between his hands and he’s willing to do anything to keep his precious flower safe. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes. Please.” You whisper back in a hurry, scared that this would be nothing but a dream. It wasn’t time for you to wake up yet.

His eyes zero-in on your lips and then he’s kissing you. It’s not much different from other times. After all, you guys have shared plenty of kisses, probably more than you should have considering you guys were friends with benefits, at most. But this time, the kiss isn’t just a careless lust-filled doing, no this time the kiss is a promise. The promise to never again allow you to question his feelings and intentions towards you.

If Yoongi has to spend his whole life making this up to you, he simply would because that’s how much you meant to him. He can’t believe he even let this go on for this long. He should have been more clear and careful, but he doesn’t regret a damn thing. Not when he has all the time in the world to repair the time lost. And especially not when his reckless actions led him to this. To you.

Yoongi’s lips are soft and bend with yours with ease. He takes his time, never in a rush. Especially not when he has you in-hand.

The taller doesn’t escalate the kiss. He keeps it sweet and gentle, like he always has been. “I’m so sorry baby.”

Kiss.

“For?”

Kiss.

Yoongi has the whole world in his hands right now as he looks down into the sparkles in your eyes and he’s never been so sure about anything in his life. “For being a fucking idiot.”

Kiss.

“It’s okay.” A kiss is shared again. “I was an idiot too. I was just scared that you wouldn’t want that with me.”

“Want what?” The taller questions, fingers trailing your face, admiring the imperfections and all.

“A relationship, I mean. You seemed content with how our relationship already was. I was afraid of losing that. Of losing you.” You admit, eyes fluttering at his touch.

“Of course, I want that. I want that and more. I-I’m not the best with relationships. I’m only saying this because I want to be open and honest with you. There’s not a second you aren’t on my mind. While at work, you are all I can see. In a crowd of a hundred, my eyes always find yours. I don’t know how to explain what you do to me. But I don’t mind. I think if I ever lost that, I would lose my mind. So I’m sorry if I ever made you feel the opposite. There’s so much more I want to say, but I just don’t know how. I want that. I want that so bad. A relationship and whatever more you give me. I might not be the best boyfriend but I’ll do whatever it takes. I- I love you.” Yoongi’s words are heartfelt and he’s so relieved. One because he’s been keeping this in for so long, any longer and he would have exploded, but second because he’s been dying to say those three words. He really does love you and Yoongi doesn’t love many people in life, but if he had to choose, it’s always gonna be you.

The tears that were creeping on your eye-lids fall prettily down your face, but Yoongi comes to your rescue. He’s quick to wipe them off your pretty face, tempted to kiss them away, but he keeps that in for now. “Y-Yoongi… I love you too. So much. I think I always have. You are so easy to love. The way you look at me, care for me, and always show up for me. That says more about you than anything else. I tried dating to get over what I felt for you, as you can probably tell, but nothing worked. It was so easy, Yoongi. So easy to fall in love with you. You’re perfect and I don’t doubt that you’ll be the best even after all this. I love you.”

“I love you too, I love you. Fuck, I love you.” Yoongi kisses you again and this time he isn’t as gentle. His lips are still soft as ever as they curl around yours. His tongue comes out and you immediately allow access, letting him explore your mouth. The taste is much better now that there isn’t anything you both are holding back. Everything down on the line and you couldn’t be happier. The hole in your heart was never empty, it was just waiting for this exact moment to remind you that you’ve always had it all.

“Yoongi.” In between breaths you call his name and Yoongi feels his knees lock. “Take me to bed.”

Yoongi just nods in a trance with the way your tone drips of arousal. A long strand of hair falls on his face when he picks you up with ease off your feet. He takes you to the place he’s had the honor to visit a hundred times before, but it’s different this time, much different.

In the process of it all, something falls and it causes you both to laugh until you run out of breath.

“I can’t believe that just happened.” You laugh into his ear. “You owe me a new lamp. My mother bought me that, you know. House-warming gift.”

“Fuck, sorry.” Yoongi mumbles near a whisper as he grips you harder like he’s afraid he might drop you next and the idea makes you giggle because you know he would never purposely hurt you. “I’ll apologize to your mother directly. Buy you and her a new lamp, whatever it takes.”

“What makes you think you are meeting my mother?” You tease with a smile on your face, watching the blush rise on his cheeks.

“Well, I figured we could, you know, if you would like–” Yoongi doesn’t often get shy about many things but he can’t keep calm around you and that kills him softly.

“I’m just teasing you.” You say and he bites his lip. “Of course you’ll meet my mother and my father and my nosy ass family. I hope you like annoying, persistent grandma’s that stuff you full. My grandma’s the worst of her kind, but she’ll love you.”

“I would love to.” Yoongi simply replies, still whispering as if you guys had to keep quiet or else you’d be in deep trouble.

“Why are we still whispering?” You whisper back, roaming fingers through his long, gorgeous hair. He needs to remind you to thank his mother personally for insisting he keep his hair long because it made him look pretty and you could never disagree. Yoongi’s so pretty.

“I-I don’t know.”

You both smile at each other before sharing another kiss. It’s so sweet and if you weren’t already off your feet, you would be floating by now. He’s gentle when letting you drop into the sheets below, he finds space between your legs and you wrap them around his hips. Lips still in contact, never losing the plushy feel.

Everything starts to feel hot. Your hips start to slowly grind against his begging for any sort of friction. But the kissing doesn’t stop.

Not when you start whining against his lips.

Not even when Yoongi starts trailing his fingers down your waist and around your curves. He teases his fingertips against your waistline, soft to the touch.

It’s not until you mewl loudly into his mouth, skillful tongue playing with yours, as you feel him start unbuckling your pants, button-by-button.

Yoongi’s eyes are heavy-lidded, his gaze burning fire. “Gonna take care of you now, is that okay?”

You furiously nod, coming up to kiss him once more, both your lips are raw and sensitive, but it gives you more of a reason to fix it with even more kisses.

He drops one quick kiss onto your mouth before he trails down your jaw. Yoongi breathes in the sweet scent on your skin, wishing he could feel you even closer. “Smell so damn good.”

His voice is raspy against your ear and it makes you blush, while you feel his hand finally touch you where you had been aching with need. “Wanna hear you.”

Breathing lightly, you whisper. “Make me.”

And of course, Yoongi makes you regret how fast you said the words because he delves his fingers forward with little resistance. Two fingers stretch you at the same time, gasping at the sudden sensation.

By now, you were molded to fit Yoongi’s fingers. On days where you were really in need, you would take four, all at once. Yoongi was best at reading every expression, every crease and scrunch to your face, especially emotions. He knew exactly how to curve his fingers, the way to build you up, and bring you back down. Yoongi knew it all and he was so lucky too.

He never anticipated it would have gone this far. It was just sex to begin with. But who were you both kidding, it was always much, much more.

Yoongi curves his fingers in the way he’s used to and watches your mouth drop, sweet noises soon leaving your lips. “Feels good?”

There’s no need to ask because he can tell. Your expression tells him everything he needs to know. That and the fact that you are dripping around his fingers but it’s sexier hearing it from you.

“Yeah… f-feels so good.” With his other hand he tugs your clothes off, leaving you bare on the bottom. Remembering the first few times is a bit embarrassing, but Yoongi always made sure to take his time and make you feel comfortable. It was special and memorable in its own way, and Yoongi felt it too.

This is unlike any first time, but it was technically the first time you could officially make love to each other until you fall lovesick and that had to be impossible around someone like Yoongi.

“Hold your legs open for me, flower.” You try to ignore the warm feeling that buzzes in your chest, but you are sure your face says it all. Without another word, you spread your legs open, tucking both hands behind your thighs.

“Flower?” You breathe out with a bit of a struggle as his two fingers continue to pump deep inside you, brushing repeatedly against your g-spot.

“Do you not like it?” Yoongi smiles slightly, biting his bottom lip while he watches you start to tremble, making the prettiest sounds.

“I do. Why the new name?” Voice a bit unsteady but it does the job. Yoongi thinks of all the times he thought you were as pretty as a flower, which really was all the time. Especially, in the way he has you right now. Pretty, pretty as a flower.

“I’ve always wanted to call you that. You’re pretty, sweet, delicate. Just like a flower.” He justifies his reasoning and you melt into puddles.

“Yoongi.” Voice sweet as honey.

“Yes baby.” He replies with ease.

“Make love to me, Yoongi.”

There was a time in his life where Yoongi believed he could live without love. How foolish of him to think so. When he met you, it was a complete three-sixty. Suddenly, Yoongi started to look forward to his shit job. He looked forward to that time between breaks where he could admire you from the back like a pinning loser. Yoongi even started to like the walks he had to take to get to work because he knew that the path would eventually lead to you. He started looking forward to tomorrow's and to the bright future that led ahead. His mom would often complain that he was wasting his life away waiting for it to start, but Yoongi thinks life truly started the day he met you.

It was a bit awkward because you couldn’t even look him in the eyes, intimated by the staff and new environment. You had previously worked in different bars so you assumed it would be no different and it wasn’t, but the intimidation of a new job was there nonetheless. Yoongi was there every step of the way. He had a crush on the new employee and you needed help on fitting in. Either way, your friendship was very platonic until it wasn’t.

Yoongi knows he should have said something along the lines “hey, maybe we shouldn't be doing this anymore. I’m in love with you and I have been since you started working here” but the stupid words never made it out. He felt it would be too much to hear and it would only make him look like a complete loser.

And you felt the same. It was silly really, because everyone around you knew it and there was no reason to fear someone as easy going and non-judgemental as Yoongi, nonetheless it brought you both here. After many failed dating attempts, you were finally happy and in the arms of someone who you truly love and want to be loved by.

There was a time in his life where Yoongi believed he could live without love, now Yoongi believes your precious, sweet love brought him back to life and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Clothes now discarded on the floor, heavy breathing filling the room, and Yoongi could get wasted on the smell of your intoxicating perfume. “Breathe flower.”

Yoongi felt you shiver at the sound of his words, throwing your head back as he thrusts you full of cock. He pushes inside you with gentle movements, struggling to keep himself up while feeling the tug of your warm velvet-like walls.

You gasp feeling him hit your cervix in a calm, slow pace. It was breathtaking regardless of the gentle rhythm. “You’re so deep...”

“I know flower, breathe baby, breathe.” He is struggling to keep from coming inside you, overwhelmed by his own emotions as your eyes roll back, feeling the pressure rise in your belly. Without a condom, everything feels so different from other times, feeling every ridge and crease fold inside your drenching heat. You take him so nicely, like you always have. Like you’ve always belonged to him.

You don’t even notice you stopped breathing until you start feeling lightheaded and desperate for fresh air. Breathing just as much as necessary so you don’t faint, you shake your head against his hold, his eyes watch yours, observing with curiosity.

“No?”

“Mm, n-no.” You shake your head again, whimpering when you feel him kiss your cervix with his swollen tip, over and over and over. “Can– can you…”

“Can I what, pretty flower?” Yoongi rolls his hips a bit faster, feeling his orgasm build too quickly. He wishes he could have days with you like this always. Days to love and worship you from head to toe.

“Choke me.” You manage to say. “Don— don’t wanna breathe.”

Yoongi growls deep, increasing his speed even more, desperate to fill the deepest part of your glistening folds. He feels you tense underneath, the sounds coming from your mouth are loud enough for your neighbors to hear, but Yoongi stopped giving a fuck about everything around him.

He places a hand on your throat and squeezes gently, not blocking off your airways completely, but leaving you just enough air to work with. It drives you insane. The more you breathe, his rough thrusts take the air out from your lungs and the process repeats. It feels so good.

“M-more. Harder.” You barely hear your own words, but Yoongi seems to understand because his dick is moving rapidly inside you, nearly splitting you in two. You wrap both hands around his wrist, loving the heavy weight against your chest. It’ll end too soon and it disappoints you in a way, but you have all the time in the world to make this up. “G-Gonna come.”

Yoongi nods, concentrating on the way your face scrunches with pleasure. With love. The way your eyes tell him a story. God, Yoongi’s madly in love. “Come, my precious flower.”

With those final words, you come on his bare slick cock, blossoming in the blissful afterglow. Yoongi doesn’t stop thrusting inside you, but he takes his hand off your throat, kissing your face gently when he sees tears start leaking down your cheeks.

“It’s okay, you’re okay baby. Breathe for me. Slowly.” Yoongi’s words bring you back down and you throw your arms around him, crying against his shoulder. You don’t even know what invoked this strong emotion to sob your eyes out, but Yoongi allows it, caressing the back of your head. Yoongi doesn’t judge, he only holds you until you settle down. “It’s okay baby, let it out. Breathe, pretty flower.”

“C-Come inside muh-me, please.” Even after all that, you still beg for him and Yoongi wants to laugh but for your sake and the fact that it’s endearing to him, he delivers accordingly without further questions.

Right as he’s going to paint your walls white, he pushes himself up with one hand, still holding you with the other. “You sure?”

You’re confused about the sudden question, the tears still decorate your face but then you understand. “Birth control. Just come in me Yoongi, fuck me, fu-fuck.”

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to regain his brutal pace, fucking you with purpose. Not that he doesn’t want kids in the near future, but he sure as hell doesn’t want any right now. He’s glad you are on the same page but maybe one day the conversation would spark and he wouldn’t want the mother of his kids to be anyone else but you. You were perfect for him.

“Gonna come.” That’s the only warning you get, then he’s emptying himself inside your tight walls. He doesn’t stop rolling his hips, his slit leaking puddles, until he’s pumped himself dry. With one last thrust, he groans and carefully pulls out.

He brings you with him, head falling against his chest as he continues to play with your hair, leaving kisses into your bare shoulders. “You okay baby?”

“Perfect. Feel so good.” You mumble into his skin, feeling around his waist. “I’m leaking your come into the sheets though.”

“I’ll take care of it, pretty flower.” You nod sleepily into his chest with a quiet ‘thank you’, feeling completely sated and satisfied, aching with exhaustion. “Sleep baby, I got you.”

With that, you fall deep into the shackles of sleep. Yoongi rubs your back until you completely fall asleep in his arms. He struggles to unwrap himself from your hold, but when he finally succeeds, he tucks you in and kisses your cheek a few times before getting up to clean up after the mess you both created.

He’s light on his feet, bringing a warm towel to your slick folds and wipes as best he can, being gentle so you could continue to enjoy your sleep. Even like this, you look so beautiful and Yoongi is an extremely lucky man.

Yoongi makes sure to also pick up the lamp he dropped from earlier as well. He blows out a breath of relief when he notices that the damage is nothing big and nothing that can’t be fixed. He’ll make sure to fix that as soon as he can.

While he’s out there, Yoongi places the tulips into a vase and fills it with water, placing it near a window where it could grow and blossom beautifully near the sunlight. He even cuts the tips into slants because he had heard somewhere online they last longer that way, making sure to get rid of any dead leaves and petals. Yoongi couldn’t be happier.

After he’s done with the light cleaning, he washes his hands and feels the exhaustion hit him tenfold. He’s careful when placing himself back in bed, lifting your arm and placing himself underneath you. The man smiles when he feels you curl yourself around him, sleeping soundlessly.

“I love you.” He whispers and even though you don’t say it back Yoongi feels it with the way you melt into his arms. Yoongi falls asleep easily that night.

…

“Baby.” Yoongi hears someone call him and he ignores it. Sleep calls his name louder and he doesn’t feel like waking up right now so he groans and cuddles deeper into the bedsheets below him, unaware of the life around him.

“Baby wake up.” You keep calling sweetly and it’s tempting but he persists.

“No. Don’t wanna.” Yoongi grumbles like an old man and you can’t help but to laugh. “Just ten more minutes.”

When you woke up the next morning, you were so thankful Yoongi had kept his promise. Your apartment was flawless and you were as clean as you could be. The tulips looked prettier today as the sun shined on the delicate petals. You even had time to warm the seaweed soup he brought from home and you couldn’t wait to get a taste. The smell alone is delicious and it warmed your home up nicely, you truly couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that this was no longer a dream but your reality. You could definitely get used to this.

You drop kisses onto his warm cheeks until his eyes flutter open, almost similar to a cat. “There you are.”

Yoongi pulls you into his arms again with quiet noncoherent grumbles and closes his eyes once more. “Give me ten minutes.”

“It’s already been ten.” You whisper lightly laughing.

“Oh. Ten more then.” You get comfortable on his chest and cuddle for a bit longer because you can’t say no to his cute sleepy self.

Yoongi starts to sniff the air with curiosity. “Is that the seaweed soup I brought you?”

“Mhm.” You hum. “Better get up soon before it burns.”

That manages to be convincing enough and Yoongi forces himself up, with you in his embrace.

“Wanna wake up like that forever.” He says, voice filled with sleep.

“You can.”

Yoongi snaps his heavy eyes towards you. “Are you–”

“Move in with me, Yoongi.” Yes, you skipped every step to this, but nothing was ever to code between you and Yoongi. One thing you were so sure of and that was spending the rest of your life with him. “Please.”

“I- yes, of course.” Yoongi wraps his arms around you for a tight hug, kissing your temple. “I love you. I love you and I’ll prove it to you every single day.”

“I know, I love you too. I love you.” Those three words come out from your mouths so easily and it’s nice that you no longer have to ever hold back. The man of your dreams is in the palms of your humble home and he’s in love with you. This was better than any dream.

“Let’s eat?” He says after some time of hugging and kisses being interchanged.

You nod, letting him take you there. Your kitchen is filled with the cruel aroma of food and your tummy rumbles as you sit comfortably while you wait for him to serve you a bowl of the warm tasty soup.

“I should be doing that. I’m a terrible host.” Yoongi shakes his head while smiling, the fluff of hair moving with him, then your phone dings. “Hold on, give me a second.”

Your heart drops when you see it is a Tinder notification from a man you promised to get back to. You look over to find Yoongi serving your bowl, making his way to the table. He leans in puckering slightly and you immediately lean into the sweet sudden kiss while he places your meal in front of you. This Yoongi is new because it wasn’t often you could act domestically towards one another, however this was perfect and just what you needed.

“Everything okay baby?” Yoongi asks while caressing your soft cheek and you immediately nod in his palm.

“Yes, everything’s perfect.” You reply in awe. “Thank you Yoongi, for everything.”

For letting me love you and for loving me back.

The older man just smiles and joins you for the meal.

It turns out you didn’t need Tinder after all.

You quickly delete the app off your phone and start to eat with the love of your life, conversation flows while you enjoy each other’s presence and fall deeper in love.

Alike Yoongi, you couldn’t imagine it happening any other way. You were bound to fall in love, one way or another, but that man was meant to be yours as you were meant to be his.

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts fluff #bts x y/n #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #bts smut

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vampwritesstuff · 10 months

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TMNT Brothers when Reader is on her Period

I’m totally not writing this because I’m on mine rn 💀 Also, I’ve got a few requests and I swear I will work on them! I jst have a motivation issue and it sucks, but if you would like to see more of my work you can checkout my Multi-Fandom Masterlist ! (I swear I’ll attempt to make a masterlist for each fandom separately, but we’ll see if I can actually do it lol)

Type: Headcannons

Request?: not a request

TMNT Version: Unspecified, fits for most versions

CW: obviously, mentions of blood and talk of female bodily functions, reader is AFAB

LEO

Man, this guy is oblivious as hell, he doesn’t realize you’re on your period until he sees you in the lair with a heating pad on your abdomen.

Then he feels stupid because it was so obvious you had started.

He thinks he should’ve known as soon as you started becoming more emotional.

Will 100% get you any craving you want, within reason. He’s not gonna let you eat something that’s gonna upset your stomach later.

Is down to just cuddle and watch TV together.

Doesn’t care how much his brothers tease him, he’ll be constantly worried about you.

“Do you guys think she’s alright without me there?” *insert a collective “SHUT UP LEO”*

He knows that your cramps can get crazy bad, but you guys figured out that if he laid his head on your abdomen, the pain was somewhat relieved.

Low key gets sad when you get annoyed with him, he knows you don’t mean to and it’s just the hormones, but he still manages to feel like a kicked puppy when it happens.

RAPH

Doesn’t act like he notices, but he does.

He notices hardcore.

He notices the way you’re walking to the kitchen so sluggishly, with a hand on your abdomen and your face scrunched into a look of discomfort at every movement.

He notices the weird period cravings and actually makes an effort to memorize the ones you like so that he can get more for you.

You get a lot more moody on your period so you’re constantly sassing Raph and he has to remind himself that it’s just your hormones talking.

Secretly restocks your dwindling stash of chocolate.

You don’t notice it though until you catch him in the act.

Acts like doesn’t know what you are talking about and claims he’s only replacing some because he ate a few bars.

You definitely know that’s not the case, but you don’t say anything about it.

He’ll hand you a bottle of ibuprofen/advil/midol etc. when he notices the cramps get debilitating. (Literally me)

Acts annoyed when you ask him to carry you around cause you can’t move from your cramps.

He secretly loves it though cause he can hold you and show off his strength.

MIKEY

Innocent boy doesn’t even know what a period is, was hella embarrassed when you explained it to him.

“YOUR BODY DOES WHAT?” someone help this poor boy.

He’s stunned at learning that your period can last up to a week or even longer.

“How do you bleed for that long and not die and it happens every month?!” Has gained hella respect for you.

He probably tried one of those period cramp simulators and it was horrible, Raph made fun of him for a while before you forced Raph and the other brothers to try it too.

They shut their mouths after that, and now Mikey gets to mock Raph’s squeals.

Willingly tries your period cravings, no matter how weird, and he’s ended up liking most of them.

You don’t even have to ask him to cuddle with you, he just does it because he feels so bad that you have to deal with this every month.

Mikey is very empathetic and in tune with your emotional state during your period, cause he’s an emotional boy too.

DONNIE

Only figured out that you were on your period when he made a joke about it.

“Ignore her, it’s probably just her time of the month.” “Actually, it is.” “HUH?”

Bro was so embarrassed and his brothers wouldn’t let him live it down.

He willingly, without you asking, will go buy you feminine products as a sort of apology. (Does that even count as one? He doesn’t know but at least he’s trying?)

Does research on what happens to the female body during menstruation in hopes of providing you some support.

Doesn’t touch his computer for weeks afterwards.

He’s easily flustered, he can’t help it!

Understands that you know your body better than he does, so he doesn’t really try to intervene with what you normally do during this time of month.

Gives you as much space as you want, but is ready to cuddle and watch pirated movies on his laptop as soon as you ask to.

Gets really happy when he sees you using the microwaveable lavender scented rice stuffed animal he got for you (if ykyk)

#tmnt x reader #tmnt x y/n #tmnt x you #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2018 #rottmnt #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt headcanons #tmnt bayverse

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crash-and-cure · 7 months

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Been a Thorn in the Side of Man (Yandere!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: In her twenty years of the business, Jimena’s seen just about the worst Hollywood has to offer. However all of that failed to prepare her for the likes of Elvis Presley.

A/N: Yikes on bikes, this took alot longer than I was expecting. I would like to personally thank @stylespresleyhearted for keeping me motivated to write and allowing me to bounce ideas off her and on top of all of that making the beautiful mood board above. I was just able to release this on my birthday so there's that lol. Based off of this request.

Warnings: Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of obsessive, manipulative, jealous, and delusional behavior. Dubious Consent in regards to coersion being involved. Explicit sexual content depicted that includes Penetrative sex (m/f), oral sex (f.recieving), doggy style and mating press, and not to mention huge breeding kink on his part. BIG TRIGGER Warning for some suicidal ideation on his part. Loss of family members. Drug overdose. Mentions of Pregnancy. Self-loathing. Probably more that I am blanking on. Please do not interact if you are under 18.

Word Count: I’m gonna be honest, stopped counting after 30K (don’t judge me)

Then

There’s an odd sense of calm once one officially accepts that they’re alone in the world. It’s easier in a way to accept that no one will ever truly look out for her, than it is to have to face the earth-shattering disappointment that is having believed for a moment that someone would.

These are the thoughts going through her head as Jimi slowly folded her daily copy of the Excelsior.

Most women would be violently mad after having read what she just did, but it was almost a relief to finally have an answer to why he has really been so absent in her life these last few months. It’s not like it should be surprising to her really, this town having shown her for years what it thinks about women like her: Seductive, temptress, exotic, temperamental, alluring… disposable.

It’s a story told time and time again in Los Angeles. Orson Welles and Dolores Huerta, Gary Cooper and Lupe Velez, and now Elvis Presely and Jimena Perez can be added to those ranks of doomed romances.

I’d rather kiss three black women than a single Mexican woman, those are the words that ring within Jimenas head as she sits at her little breakfast table, though for what it’s worth it is nothing less than a deliberate action. As masochistic as it sounds she truly believes it’s for the better should she ever get to thinking this situation is in any way fixable.

But even still as she stares unblinkingly at the plain wall of her just recently occupied home, she is a little confused as to why her vision gets cloudy. It takes her a moment to comprehend that she’s crying, something that she so rarely does these days anymore.

And to think this is all over some musician.

She’ll never forget the first time she met him in person, all the standard camera and makeup testing that comes from early production. She’s far from the most experienced makeup assistant at Paramount, but in their words she’s the only makeup girl they trust to “behave” around him. Having grown up in the business, Jimena’s all but lost her ability to be starstruck by anybody really, so they’re not too far off in this notion.

As they were explaining the whole purpose of this to the relatively green actor, she looked at him with a critical eye, examining his features, comparing it to other actors she had already worked on in the past, and trying to recall how best to highlight them on screen.

He catches her looking at him and he shoots her a wicked smile, but where other girls would’ve gotten embarrassed at being caught staring she only redoubles her efforts now that she’s got a better look at his face, arguably staring even harder at him. In a funny turn of events he’s the one that looks away bashfully as though she were the one that caught him looking.

While her official production title is as the resident makeup artist, she’s personally worked almost every job there is to have on a set save for actually sitting in the big chair and directing. Lights, costuming, talent wrangling, she’s seen and done just about all of it. She had been working behind the scenes since she was 14, where with a little bit of makeup trickery, she was not only able to convince everybody that she was an adult, but that she was the new hire. This would eventually give way to getting actually hired, as they simply trusted the fact given she was already on the lot.

And somewhere between watching Dorothy Gale throw up in her own purse and seeing Rhett Butler remove his own teeth, did the whole concept of Hollywood movie magic well and truly die in her mind.

Drugs, drinks, boys, girls, and every other vice to be had, Jimena’s seen even the most clean cut of stars fall into at least one category or another. So when she got the news she was gonna be on a project with him of all people, she had thought she had well and truly prepared for anything this man could throw her way.

But when she actually gets a good up-close look at him, she starts to get that sinking feeling in her stomach. Not for anything he did or how he looked, but the way he acted. She heard his stuttering words and felt his soft cheeks in her hands, and there was only one thought in her head throughout the whole process.

Pobrecito they’re gonna eat you alive.

All her years in this business, she’s got a pretty good grasp when people are being genuine or not. And he’s perhaps the most genuine person she had ever encountered. Wide-eyed bumpkin from down south was hardly new, but there was just something about Elvis Presley that made it a tinge more tragic than it would be normally.

She barely spoke that first meeting, the higher ups weren’t that interested in her words these days, nor did he really try to initiate anymore conversation with the way his mouth was gaping at her. Hardly a new experience, but admittedly a little less unwelcome coming from him.

So it took her by surprise the first day of shooting when he said “I didn’t get the pleasure of catchin’ your name last time,” he said with a grin as she set down her make-up kit.

She’s quick to recover with a “Because I didn’t give it.”

He gives a short huff at that before insisting once again since after all, she’s gonna be around him for the next ten or so weeks.

“You can call me Jimi,” she says, barely sparing him a glance in favor of looking over the notes of what today’s scene will call for.

“That really your name sweetheart?” which is not unfair to ask. It wasn’t her first choice, but it is the one that distanced her the most from her old stage name.

“White people can’t pronounce it,” she justified as she tied her hair up with her favorite red bandana. “So I don’t bother with it here.” It’s sort of the truth, and that’s usually enough to get even the more obnoxiously “nice” ones off her back.

“Well I’m willing to give it a shot,” he says amiably, apparently up for the challenge that she presents.

She takes his chin in her hands and with a soft smile on her lips, and while he’s blushing up a storm she looks down at him and says a simple “No.”

He’s taken aback both by her words and the sudden spray of water from the bottle in her hand. She could’ve given a cursory warning to him but she has to remind herself that this entire situation works best when actors are indifferent towards her.

It’s for the best, she tells herself. The less you say about yourself, the better, she wants nothing more than to keep her Mena and Nena days far in the past.

Though it soon became clear that it wasn’t meant to be.

“Y’know…” he starts off as he’s looking at her in the mirror. “Ya kinda look like that one girl, uhh what’s her name.” He says snapping his fingers trying to force him to remember even though you know for a fact who he’s talking about. “Elena Somethin’.”

“Elena Leon?” she sighs, knowing already where this is going.

“That’s the one,” he would say, snapping his fingers in recognition. “Though, ‘tween the two of ya’, I think you’re the prettier one.”

“Hmm…” she answers, pursing her lips and practically shutting down as he quickly changes the subject to how excited he is to be working on another movie set. She didn’t engage much after that outside of the occasional hum of acknowledgement, until he eventually gave-up and would forlornly read his script.

That wouldn’t stop him the next day from telling her about how his dumbass cousin made him late this morning and all the antics they get up to back in Memphis.

Or the next when he asked if Pink’s was actually any good or if it’s all just hype.

So on and so forth for the next few days as he would try to get her to talk to him again.

She had been determined to just treat him like any other actor she had worked with, and just do her job, but then she saw him getting really cozy with a certain girl on set. Now on-set flings are par for the course on any production, and literally anyone else she wouldn’t have batted an eye, but she knows for a fact that that one is known to be dangerous. Well she’s not so dangerous, but her husband is.

“Stay away from her,” she would whisper to him one day as she applied some eyeshadow trying to imitate a black eye.

“So you do speak,” he says, cracking an eye open, a triumphant smile on his face as though he’s won some great victory over her.

“Yes, so listen to me,” she counters, her eyes boring into his to show him how serious she is.

“Why do you care so much darlin’?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow, a small smile on his lips, still apparently not taking her seriously.

“My job is to keep you pretty for the cameras,” she states, in as matter of fact as she can manage. “You’re going to make that a lot harder if you don’t listen to me, and her husband beats the shit out of you.”

“She’s married?” he asked, astonished that he could miss such a thing. “M-my manager said she could get me some good roles, that her Daddy is some big-time producer” he argues back.

“Yes,” Jimena clarifies. “Her husband, who she calls daddy, can get you one very high paying role, and that’s only if you let him watch. If your manager didn’t know this, he’s a dumbass.”

“Let him watch what?” he asks, confused. Her pursed lips, refusal to meet his eyes, and following silence speaks volumes, as his own cobalt eyes go comically wide as to what she was implying. “Her husband?” he says, and she gives him a small affirmative nod. “And he watches?” A raise of her brows as her eyes slide away from him just reaffirms this unorthodox situation. “So… Wait a second… does he or does he not like it when she’s with other men?”

“Both,” she states, adding the finishing touches to her work. “He likes to watch and after that he beats the shit out of the boy in question.” And even though she’s pretty secure in the fact that no one is listening in, she still gets close to him to whisper this last part into his ear. “It’s apparently the only way he can get it up anymore.”

The fact that she sees his ears go bright red from just that little tidbit of information just really goes to show how green he still is in regards to how things work in this town.

“How d’ya know all this?” he asks, more than a little disturbed now.

Not to brag but she regards herself as a wealth of information on the comings and goings of the Hollywood elite. Close enough to the action to overhear everything but low enough in the pecking order that most assume she’s incapable of doing anything about it.

But this is basic information that even the lowliest of extras were privy to, so you can’t fathom how a man with a near meteoric rise to stardom wouldn’t know this.

“Are you kidding?” she would in turn ask him. “Everybody knows.”

“Wait if everybody knows then why doesn’t anyone put a stop to it?” he asks, trying to find logic in a city not exactly known for it.

“Because the only thing more powerful than secrets in this town is money, and he’s got a lot to keep everyone quiet.”

Besides it’s only a matter of time before something gives in that tragedy waiting to happen. From all the whisperings Jimena’s been hearing, the girl in question has been keeping some rendezvous’ secret from her husband and more or less bragging that there’s no prenup in place. While he in turn has turned his eyes to some pretty little barely legal extra, he’s also very Catholic, doesn’t believe in divorce, and has rumored connections to the mob.

Not even a week later did she hear whisperings that the very same producer had quickly sold all his stock in Paramount and decided to retire to the French Riviera with his wife seemingly overnight though there are conflicting reports as to whether or not she was seen at the airport. Coincidentally no one has seen hide nor hair from the last lowly actor she was seen running around with.

Usually she kept her mouth shut about the dirtier details of an incident of this magnitude, but she couldn't help herself when she let him know the full extent as to the bullet he had dodged.

“That's why you don’t get involved with fixers wives,” she says simply as she grabs the spray bottle for his hair, a little more secure in the knowledge that he isn’t so green anymore.

“Fixers?” he asks, and she laughs initially thinking he’s pretending to not know as is the custom when somebody on the outside asks about them. But then she sees he’s not laughing along with her, and his confusion is genuine.

“You are not kidding are you?” she asks incredulously, truly hoping that this man is not so naive.

“Can’t say that I am,” he replies.

Now she has two options, mind her own business and let this boy sink or swim on his own, or enlighten him to the dark underbelly of what it takes to make it in this town. Jimena had spent the last few years keeping her ear to the ground and gathering as much information as she could to one day be able to leverage it to help one person specifically… but that person hasn’t wanted much to do with her lately.

Still she finds herself leaning more into the staying in her lane option, that is until his wide ocean blue eyes turn towards her, and she feels like a monster for the thought.

“Well everybody around here has a job, and it’s to make movies that make money. Your job is to make the studio look good on and off screen so people spend money to see these movies,” she says as she runs a comb through his hair. “And when you fuck that up, it’s the fixers job to cover it up.”

“When?” he repeated, clearly a little offended.

“Yes, when,” she clarified. “Get caught with a boy, get caught holding something you’re not supposed to, get a mistress pregnant, get a ‘social’ disease, or hell, even find yourself with a dead body on your hands, you just gotta call the right producer and they make it all disappear.” She knows she’s being pretty blunt with the subject but she has been in the business pretty much right out of the womb, so she’s seen some of the worst shit this town has to offer.

Over the next few weeks she does her best to let him in on the need to know knowledge that is necessary to survive not just in Paramount, but in Hollywood as a whole.

“If you work with John, he’ll call you a communist for stirring your coffee the wrong way so I would avoid him. Canter’s is actually the place you want to go to for great food, Pink’s is just okay. Gable’s breath smells like death, but he will bury you if you ever mention it. Umm…” she says trying to recall any other helpful advice, though stops when she sees his overwhelmed expression. “Am I going too fast?”

He quickly schools his expression, back into one a more affable look, “Nothin’ you gotta worry ‘bout darlin’”

She is not buying it though.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, unwilling to believe his dismissal. He clammed up even more and looked straight into the mirror until she sat herself right in front of him, crossed your arms, raised an eyebrow, and gave him a look telling him she wasn't about to drop this.

It’s a bit of a standoff until he eventually lets out a long breath and looks out the window to the awaiting set outside of his trailer, “I don’t know Jimi…” he sighs. “Guess I’m just feelin’ some type a way doin’ all this.”

“Why?” she asks, not really thinking.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for acting.”

She simply gives a sympathetic shrug of her shoulders, and simply states, “You could be better.”

He blinks, apparently caught off guard by her bluntness. “You just get right to the point, don'tcha darlin’,” he says with a smile.

“Hey if you want someone to kiss your ass, you would’ve been better off asking literally anyone else.”

He gives a snort but the tight smile tells her she’s hit the nail on the head. “Alright then sweetheart, what’dya think I’m doin’ wrong?” he asks genuinely.

Part of her wants to give a very pithy “everything,” but the other part of her is a little thrown for the fact that he is not only listening but actively asking for her advice on the matter. Granted she’s far from an expert considering she hasn’t done it in years, but she’s worked with some of the “greats’ to be confident enough in her ability to know good acting from bad. Besides she’s already going out of her way to let him in on the secrets of this town, so what’s an acting lesson or two.

“Well for one thing, it’s called acting,” she emphasizes, “Not Wording.”

“I-I don’t follow.”

“Look… anybody can simply say the lines, but it’s an actor that can bring a character to life. You gotta be able to get comfortable with the fact that you’re not only being heard, but you’re being seen.”

“Sweetheart everybody sees me.”

“Yeah and you’re in charge of how you want to be seen,” she says. “Do you know why I wear the same red bandana everyday?”

“I was thinkin’ cuz you were tryin’ ta hide a bald spot,” he answers, which earns him a swift punch to the nipple.

“I wear it because my options are to be known as the mexican girl or as the bandana girl,”

“So right now they’re seeing you Elvis, not Deke,” she sighs. “Say what you want about Brando and his annoying refusal to learn his goddamn lines, but he makes you believe every word that comes out of his mouth, because he believes what he’s saying at that moment…Speaking of Brando,” she pivots hard before she gets too passionate about the topic of acting and gives herself away. “Never get into a pissing contest with him. That’s how Anthony Quinn lost out on being a leading man… and I do mean a pissing contest in the most literal sense.”

“I’ll take ya word for it Jimi, but you sure do know alot ‘bout bein’ an actor,” he says giving her a once over that she can’t quite read. “You eva try bein’ one before?”

“You could say that,” she remarks, silently praying he doesn’t ask why she does have these skills. He’d already noticed over the past few weeks how she would be roped into fixing problems that were well beyond the paygrade of the average make-up girl like jumpstarting golf cars or fixing light fixtures. His attention is a bit infuriating, considering she feels she does her best work unnoticed. “When you've been in the business as long as I have, you learn a thing or two.”

“So how long you been in the business?”

Without missing a beat. “50 years.”

He gives a double take at that, and she’s pretty sure he’s trying to discern whether she’s lying or not. She’s not helping whatsoever with her usual neutral demeanor, until for the first time in years she does crack a bit of a smile at him, as she snipes with a, “I’m a very good make-up girl.”

He laughs at that “So you’ll tell me you’re real age but not your real name darlin’?

“Never.”

He gives an amused snort at that but the nice moment is interrupted when one of the PA’s pulls her away so she can help restart Gleason’s heart after his partner apparently got a little too enthusiastic about choking him mid-orgasm.

After that the relationship between the two seemed to ease up a bit. He no longer felt the need to posture in front of her and they developed something of a -dare she say it- friendship with one another. For her, it’s a pretty novel experience to actually be heard on set for once, and the closer they got she got the sense that he may understand that feeling more than he would like to let on.

“Any news?” he would ask, knowing full well that she always has the best stories on set. She doesn’t really talk to any of the other actors on set, and they in turn don’t really notice her, so they are a lot freer with their words when they speak with one another in front of her.

“So… you didn’t hear it from me,” you say as you begin to wet his hair. “But apparently a certain Superman is on his way out and was seen with a younger girl in New York, and Toni is not taking it well.”

“And Toni’s husband?”

“Taking it worse,” she says simply as she readies the eyeliner. “This was always going to happen, but I don’t think it’s the end of it.” she promises, which would be proven right a few years down the line when George “mysteriously” ended up with a bullet in his head.

“You’re the reason I don't even bother with them papers no more,” he remarks.

“They’re not all trash,” you defend. “There’s almost always a little bit of truth in them.”

“Speakin’ a rumors,” he continues. “I think I finally figured out why you look like Elena Leon so much?” he says, oh-so casually trying to maintain his innocence.

She stops combing through his hair, knowing that the jig was up.

“Who told you?” she asks, trying to mentally prepare herself for the same three things everyone said when they did find out. It’s always an awkward subject to bring up especially as it brings up some painful memories of long hours and relationships that have yet to recover.

“Y’know me and my mama used to watch your movies,” he says with an annoyingly charming smile.

“I’m glad,” she says in the most neutral tone.

“Lord I never could’ve expected to meet you here, workin’ behind the scenes. You ever think about actin’ again?”

“Oh my sister is the actress now,” she said affably. Something well-rehearsed and practically scorched into her brain since Jimena started working on sets when she was fifteen was to always talk up Elena to anybody who would listen.

“Well thas a cryin’ shame sweetheart,” he says with a rakish grin on his face. “You were always my favorite.”

That’s new, she thought. Usually they ask her to do the old catchphrase. That or men tend to get weird around the idea of women who look almost exactly the same.

But the idea of being the favorite is… different. Like every other relationship, she has a complicated one with the idea of being seen. But the idea of Elvis being the one to look at her is somewhere between exciting and terrifying, and it has her heart beating just a little bit faster.

“Why didn’tcha go back?” he continues. She kind of understands where his curiosity comes from, as someone who so desperately wanted to break into the Hollywood scene it would probably be hard to comprehend someone who knew it and rejected it.

The Leon Twins were the biggest little things since Shirley Temple. With their indistinguishable looks and charming, if slightly demeaning, premise of one sister only able to speak Spanish with the other, only English, MGM was able to pump out over thirty various movies and shorts starring the adorable little Mena and Nena and their hijinx.

How is she supposed to explain how her mother made the unilateral decision that her sister was the “good” one and thus the one she decided would have the solo career after Jimena had the gall to go into puberty first and become slightly more distinguishable than her younger sister. Or how she hasn't talked to her sister in months despite the fact they both still live with their mother, and neither of them have acknowledged this. Or how the reason she took this job in the first place was to better lookout for said sister who isn’t talking to her.

How she sees fame as a beast of madness and obsession that will consume her given half a chance as it did with her mother and now her sister. But movies are all she’s ever known and the idea of leaving seems scarier than it is to stay.

How the thought of having so many eyes on her once again makes her practically want to claw her skin off and she’d rather die than ever willingly step back into that arena.

She doesn't say any of that, instead she simply says, “Got tired of it,” as she puts the finishing touches on his hair. “I had my time in front of the camera,” and hated every second of it, she thought. “And I think I’m better suited behind it,” and you give a dramatic turn of his chair so that he could face the mirror. “As you can see.”

“Yeah,” he says, taking the hand you placed on his shoulder and looking back up at you. “I don’t know what’d I do without ya sweetheart.”

Seeing his cobalt blue eyes bore into her own, Jimena feels her face heat up, though mercifully it’s hidden under her darker complexion. If Elvis notices her change, he doesn't acknowledge it, and mercifully that is when one of the PA’s calls him to the sound stage.

Once he’s out she sprays her own face with a bottle to get herself under control.

In spite of her typically neutral regard for actors there’s just simply something about Elvis Presley that just made her want to throw that all away.

She had sworn to herself to never get involved with actors, she had seen this song and dance play out many a times before. It comes in different flavors, but the final scene is always the same at the end of the day: the famous white man never chooses the latin girl to be his wife. Arm-candy? Definitely. Date? Yes. Long-time Girlfriend? Sure. Fiance with a wedding date never set? Maybe. Mistress? Obviously. But never the wife.

Besides, it was the tail-end of shooting and it’s unlikely she was ever gonna work with him again so she decided to just stamp these feelings down and hope they went away. She was afterall an actress once, she can act like he doesn’t have an affect on her now.

Though this was blown out of the water on the last day of shooting and he would not only pull her next to him for the cast wrap-up picture, but he would also slip an invitation to the wrap-party in her purse. She had gone home hoping to take a nap and forget about Elvis Presley, only for the next curveball of her day to occur.

“Should we match for the party?” Elena would ask, holding up said invitation.

“...did… did you look through my purse to find that?”

“We better start getting ready,” her sister would say, completely bypassing the question. “After all it’s not everyday that Hollywood gets a Leon Twins reunion.”

“...yeah, I-I don’t think going would be…”

“Meeeennnnnaaaa…” she whines, completely abusing the fact that she is the only one allowed to use that name and not catch a fist to the face. “We need to go together, because why else would they just invite a makeup girl to a wrap party?”

Why else indeed? She thinks and she actively has to scrub the way he looked at her out of her mind lest she get any other ideas.

“Besides,” she says, giving Jimena a light shove on the shoulder. “You still owe me for never introducing me to James Dean.”

“I barely knew him,” she argues back, which is the truth. He only vaguely knew her as “Snake girl” when she was working as a PA for one of his movies. The closest she ever got to him was after she managed to save him, Rock, and Liz from a snake that had trapped them in his trailer and their subsequent thank-you’s being signed photos of each of them that they had their assistants bring to her. There’s a certain irony in the fact that of the few movies to depict the plight of Mexican-Americans in the US, they had no problem giving her, one of the few Mexican crew members, the most dangerous task because everybody else was too valuable to lose.

Looking at her sister, her reflection in many ways, she feels her resolve begin to waiver a bit. Nena was her first job in a sense, as being the older sister it was Jimena’s responsibility to look out for her first and foremost. She took it so seriously that she’s still doing it to this day.

They have always been so intrinsically entwined as an act. Their tiny hand prints immortalized in front of Grauman’s and the child-sized oscar with both of their names somewhere around here prove that much. But Elena now struggles to find that same level of fame as before, and secretly Jimena doubts that this will ever be possible.

She couldn’t understand it but Jimena could see the reason as clear as day.

There’s an unspoken rule about being a latin or black actress in Hollywood when you’re not the star of the show: Never outshine the white leading ladies, because it has to be believable that the white leading man chooses the leading lady.

Joan Crawford was bad enough with actresses who had the gall to be simply younger than her, but she was especially vicious toward the ones who had skin tone darker than ivory. Jimena remembers one harrowing set where this one little Cuban extra had made the awful mistake of approaching Joan and saying how she wanted to be as big a star as her one day.

They never did find her ear, and Jimena had made it a point to stop wearing hoop earrings on set altogether. The whole incident was swept under the rug after “someone” accused the poor girl of being a communist, and they did who knows what with her. But that just confirmed her and other girls like her are unlikely to be protected on set no matter how valuable you make yourself.

Jimena told her sister this story, warning her to dull herself down a bit during auditions, if only to get her foot in the door and get more consistent work as secondary characters. And it was working for a time, but she wasn’t seeing the kind of work she wanted and she largely blamed Jimena for it because of her warnings to play it safe.

In fact the source of their recent falling out was when Jimena had tried to convince her to try out cinema in Italy or Mexico or literally anywhere else in the world and use that as a branching off point to get an in in Hollywood. She flat out refused saying how she “doesn’t want to die in obscurity like you.” They didn’t talk for a solid month after that and since then it was only the barest of communication between them.

“Imagine if I was seen with Elvis Presley,” she said now, with stars in her eyes. “The roles would come pouring in after that.”

For all that it left a sour taste in her mouth, Jimena could understand the logic of wanting to latch on to someone who's already getting up there in terms of fame. Fuck the studios themselves sometimes set up these types of arrangements, all for the sake of promoting up and comers.

And the fact he invited her in the first place, probably means he had something else on his mind for the evening. Besides he’s apparently been a fan of theirs for a long time, it probably wouldn’t matter too much to him to which sister he was handed at the end of the day.

So really everybody wins with this arrangement; Elena gets a bump to her star power, Elvis gets to fuck one of the Leon twins, Jimena gets to stay in her lane. And it’s with a heavy heart that she agrees to go.

The evening was apparently so special that their mother decided to make one of her rare appearances before sunset.

Once after finding out that not only was she one of the famous Leon Twins, but that her mother was THE Gloria Leon-Sanchez from the silent film days, he of course asked what it was like to grow up with a famous mother.

“You ever seen Sunset Boulevard?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve met my mother.”

Harsh as it may sound, that was the most generous interpretation of her mother that she could afford these days. What with her practically living in nightgowns and sheer robes, to her constant bemoaning of actresses that apparently stole her career trajectory the likes of which included practically everyone from Rita Hayworth to even her own daughters, the comparison wasn’t too far off.

Though her mother had largely checked out once the twins had turned eighteen. Elena alone hadn’t been able to reach the same level of fame that the two of them once managed together as the “Firecracker twins.”

It was a simple gimmick really but had just enough gas to make over 30 movies and short movies about. Adorable twin girls who get up to mischief due to their near indistinguishable looks, Mena the spanish-speaking, spitfire twin that always had a skip in her step to dance with her little, english-speaking, soft-spoken and shyer twin, Nena, who could occasionally be emboldened enough to sing.

The two of them were a lightning rod for box office draw, having been likened to Shirley Temple levels of fame, but due to their background that hardly granted them Shirley Temple levels of treatment or pay for that matter.

Her and her sister weren’t seen as people, they were moving props that could sing and dance, and on occasion say their famous “Ayy, No Bueno!” catchphrase. Props that didn’t need to rest, props that didn’t need to eat, props that the less scrupulous producers would occasionally try to lure into an empty room with them.

Not to pat their mother too hard on the back, but she at the very least helped them avoid the most obvious pitfalls that come from childhood stardom, but made them arguably worse. Like refusing to let the doctor give them “vitamin shots” but would ask if they could just IV Line coffee to their veins. Or never letting either of them out of her sight on sets, but couldn’t really be bothered with them outside of it leaving them with nannies so she could go “audition” for them. Or how she never left either of them alone with any of the men, but did teach them how to mix drinks at the age of nine so they could charm them with their “maturity.” So on and so forth. All of these bad, but after encountering other mothers who wanted to make their kids stars regardless of the cost, it really put things into perspective as to the type of person she could’ve been.

What happened to her as a kid may have been more palatable to Jimena, if it were a case of that being the only way to keep them afloat. But it wasn’t and the older she gets, the better she understands as to what was stolen from her in their childhood. Their “father” Victor, had the decency to slip into a coma after marrying the formerly famous silent film-actress, and 10 Months later out popped Jimena and her sister, so as to properly claim her cut of his fortune.

No, it was never about the money for her mother. It was always the fame that she was seeking, even if she had to begrudgingly share it with her daughters.

Back in those days the Coogan act was more of a suggestion in the studios, especially when they had her mothers implicit permission for whatever they wanted. The long hours, the uncomfortable costumes and the mean men were all things she had done your very best in the last few years to forget about.

One thing she undoubtedly won’t forget was her mother’s favorite threat when she was a kid and acting up. “¿Quieres que consiga los fijadores?” Gloria would say with a sickly sweet smile on her face, knowing full well no one but her daughter understood her words. Where other Mexican kids were scared of El Cucuy, she was scared of Los Fijadores or the fixers who would take away bad little girls that didn’t listen to the directors, so that their mothers could go back to acting and not have to care for those ungrateful little girls. That would always shut her up for the day, and she would listen until the next time she got fed up and the cycle would repeat all over again. Little did she realize at the time that her mother didn’t have much in the way of influence in the business, not anymore at least, but she took full advantage over the influence she had over her daughters.

Ironically enough it was rare that Jimena would ever get to that point, but because her sister was the “good one” she would never dare to kick up a fuss, so most of the time the older sister would do it for her. She took her role as a big sister very seriously back then and didn’t mind being the difficult one who held up production if it meant that her little sister got a break.

It was always the two of them against the world. It’s why she even stayed in the business. She couldn’t imagine where she’d be if it was just her alone, as for all the shit her mother put her through, she could at least take comfort knowing that she wasn’t alone. Even when they were angry at each other, even when they wouldn’t speak to each other for weeks, even when she felt like she just wanted to choke her, she could take comfort knowing that they would always be there for one another.

For the occasion, her sister would choose a bold red dress that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Marilyn or Jayne. It felt a little too much for just a simple wrap party, but it was clear her intent was to draw as much attention as possible.

By the time Jimena made her way downstairs it was clear that it was already working, with the way their mother was cooing over her.

“So you’re going with Elena to the party,” her mother would remark as Jimena stepped down the stairs.

“Actually she’s going with me.”

“And you’re going to wear that?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” she says in the way only a mother intent on cutting down her daughters self-esteem could.

Jimena would self-consciously look down at her own understated blue dress, “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s just…” she would say, fingering the fabric on her shoulder. “This is Elena’s big night, and we need to do everything in our power to help her stand out.”

A distraction goes unsaid, something she used to be called for wearing any slightly flattering clothing onset. Even when she did start dressing down, she could hardly say it helped anything but this is an argument she’s heard a lot over the years, and she’s too tired to fight it tonight. “Of course mama,” Jimena would say dejectedly before going back to her room to change into something a little less flattering. A simple black dress, something that is both complementary to Elena’s red dress, but will also hopefully help her fade into the background so that all focus will be given to her sister.

“Ayy thank you Mija,” she would say, planting a kiss on her eldest’s cheek before they left. “You’ve always been so good at looking out for your sister.”

Jimena had long since accepted that between the two of them, she would always be the second choice. It happened with their mother, it happened with the studios, it happened with every single boy she had been interested in, hell she had even chosen her sister before herself most times. Why would Elvis be different?

That night when he did end up picking her, Jimena could hardly be blamed for indulging in the sensation of the first time in her life someone had chosen her over her sister.

It was the worst mistake of her life that she would struggle to forgive herself for. Elvis would distract her almost the entire night, and as a result an awful man had sunken his claws into Elena when she hadn’t been looking. Those last few months of her sister's life would be fraught with anger, drugs, and heartache from one Tim Parsons.

He had been claiming to be related to one of the studio big-wigs and could get her some higher profile auditions. What scared Jimi is that she could not find a goddamn thing about him in all of her little networks. Anywhere else this would mean that he’s a perfectly normal person with nothing so scandalous as to be worth talking about. In this town it meant that someone was just very good at hiding whatever the hell is wrong with them.

Yet all the evidence that he was bad news came in the form of all the drastic changes she was seeing in her sister. Since puberty, Elena had always been slimmer than her (their mother made sure of that) as a result, she wasn’t quite as gifted in the chest and hips as Jimena. But it was impossible not to notice the fact that she dropped a few dress sizes in a matter of weeks. When Elena begged her sister to take in a few dresses for her, Jimena could practically see her ribcage. Not to mention the fact that she was unusually full of energy even late into the night when she would pace around the house only to make a call to him and then after a quick handoff from his car she would be dead asleep, until he would let himself in and the cycle would begin all over again.

Jimena knows what these all mean. She’s seen the signs in hundreds of actors before, and she’s never bothered to intervene before. Now it feels like a karmic punishment for her previous inaction, as she can only watch helplessly as her sister goes down the same road.

It all came to a head the day she finally heard the first thing about this man, and it was truly terrifying: that not only was he not a doctor, but that that wasn’t even his name. He had been forced to change it once his claim to fame in this town became how he was denied an apprenticeship under Dr. Feelgood because his concoctions were in the doctors words “unhinged.” The man who regularly shoots up his patients that have a blend of human placenta and ground up horse bones called another man’s “vitamin” mixture insane.

She dropped everything the moment she heard that and begged Elena to stop seeing this man. But it was in one ear out the other, and it seems it was hard for her to believe Jimena when for a time she was actually getting her foot in the door for major roles she actually wanted all because of him. However these also came with a price as evidenced by the late nights and vacant looks in Elena’s eyes after coming back from these auditions. The more she did this the more she felt her sister slipping away.

Her mother is no help whatsoever seeing only the results of this shift, and not the consequences.

“Mija,” she would say to her in one of her rare moments of lucidness. “This is what it really takes. I tried to protect you both from it when you were younger, but she understands now what has to be done to make it in this town.”

Jimena has to bite her tongue, when all she wants to do is scream at her mother and yell at her to look in a mirror and ask if that was the image of someone who made it.

It all came to a head when Elena would beg Jimena to help her “entertain” a casting producer who not only had a thing for latinas, but twins as well. She was practically on her knees pleading for her sister's help with this, promising her twin that this would be the break in her career that she needed. Jimena tried to reason with her that there is no role worth what they’re asking for her, especially since even sleeping with them wasn’t a guarantee for her roles.

Up until this point she’s tried to be gentle about this, but it becomes clear as day that that is no help.

“You watch!” She yelled. “He’s gonna suck you dry and spit you back out when there’s nothing left!”

“At least he’s getting me work! You’ve always done nothing but drag me down!” she sobs, angry tears streaming down her face. “The one time I ask you to do something for me-”

“The one time? Who’s the one that did all the stunts you were too afraid of? Who’s the one who dropped out of school so you wouldn’t be alone on sets? Who’s been talking you up to every producer she’s ever worked with?”

“The same bitch who ruined my life when she fucked Elvis Presley!” Her little sister would snapback.

That has Jimena clamp her mouth shut, not wanting to own up to what she did that set her sister on this course. But that’s all the confirmation Elena needed before she turned her back on her.

It was the ugliest fight they had ever had, and it resolved nothing, as they just stormed into their respective rooms. Those days were less Little Women and more Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? Jimi knew that if one didn’t get out soon there would be blood. So when she was offered a project that would be shooting mostly on location in New Orleans she practically jumped at the opportunity, hardly even registering the fact that Elvis was gonna be there as well.

It was only landing in Louisiana and seeing room assignments did she remember why exactly she hated On-location shoots, when “mysteriously” the other seven white women she was sharing a room with all unanimously decided that of all of them, Jimena would be the one that had to take the floor.

But remembering who exactly was starring in this production, she decided to take a chance and made her way to his room. Though upon arriving at his door, she does hesitate for a moment remembering what her sister said and probably what he will expect if they do share a room. But then just thinking of her sister infuriates her and she finds herself finally knocking on his door.

Being in New Orleans, all her problems back home would seem so far away, and she could focus on herself for a change. In an odd way it felt like he was the only one who understood her in those days. Of all the people on set, he is the only one who knows how to put on a brave face when it feels like everything you have is slipping through your fingers.

Him also knowing who exactly she was came with the unexpected consequence of him constantly trying to finagle stories out of her. Really talking to him about her childhood did help put into perspective how wild her formative years were as not everybody can say they got in a fist fight with Wendy Darling or that Shirley Temple taught them how to roll a cigarette.

He seemed to just understand what she needed in a way no one has ever. It was usually simple arguably unremarkable things really, like anticipating when she was hungry or tired, even before she would admit it to herself, or when she almost lost a finger or when he stepped so this would be the first time she wouldn’t be the one to have to chase rabid animals out after a small alligator somehow got onto the set. He took care of her in a way that nobody had ever done before.

She wouldn’t define what they had as a full scale relationship, but whatever they had, it was nice just to have something private and out of the public eye. Only later would she realize he had his own reasons to keep everything as discreet as possible.

They were together almost every night in New Orleans, as it was easy to fall into each other like that. They were both at an uncomfortable crossroad in their life and it felt like he understood her in a way nobody else had.

She thought she understood him as well, but it was only when she read the article did she realize she never knew him at all.

They were a week away from wrapping up production, when Jimena got the devastating news. In a newspaper somebody else had been reading on set that day of all things.

That was the way she learned that her sister was dead.

She remembers saying to no one in particular that she was gonna call it a day and simply wandered off set, into the unfamiliar city. She walked for hours just trying to wrap her head around the news.

It felt like the worst sort of betrayal to learn that her sister had been dead for days, and not only had no one contacted her, but that she didn’t automatically feel it. Aren’t other twins supposed to just know when the other is hurt? So why didn’t she? Elena came into this world with Jimena, why did she leave without her?

As a kid her mother told her that she was not a pretty crier, so she’s done everything in her power to never cry, especially in front of other people. So walking around and being surrounded by strangers at the very least did prevent her from devolving into a blubbering mess. But as the day goes on she knows there is no outrunning the inevitable, and that as tempting as it may be to simply walk until she couldn't anymore, she would have to go home soon.

She would eventually make her way back to the hotel room only to be met with Elvis worriedly pacing around his room. He would throw his arms around her the moment he saw her and start with the condolences, and even the tears.

She didn’t really want any of that; she just wanted to lie down and sleep forever. But she lets him pull her close and she breaks for the first time in years in front of somebody else. True to her mothers words, it is not a pretty picture.

Full body wracking sobs, snot pouring out of her nose, her screaming and cursing until her voice goes hoarse, the works. Even still he holds her all the same. For all that she’s glad he was there she can’t help but feel so humiliated, but that’s simply one of the many emotions that run through her head along with guilt and anger and regret and just about every other awful feeling under the sun.

But who else could she turn to that would know even a fraction of what she’s going through right now. Not just to lose a sister, but to lose a part of yourself.

In a sick way she kind of blamed him. Maybe if she hadn’t been so wrapped up in him these last few weeks she would’ve known earlier, or maybe she wouldn’t have even taken this job, or hell, if she hadn’t even gone to that party, Elena wouldn’t have even met that man in the first place.

“The same bitch who ruined my life when she fucked Elvis Presley!” Plays over and over again in her head. But it’s easier to be mad at him because he’s actually here to take that anger.

Though she begins to feel no small amount of guilt for this when she wakes up the next morning to find that he’s cleared everything with the producers, and arranged for her trip back home all on his dime.

He personally escorts her to the private train room he rented for her and leaves her with a kiss and a promise to see her in a few days. But by this point she’s numb to everything and she simply wants to close her eyes forever.

She barely registered coming home and only that was due to the fact that it’s now on her to arrange everything for the funeral, as it becomes apparent that her mother in her grief is off on another world. The biggest clue being when her mother greets her at the front door with a hug and a kiss, and calls her Elena.

“Mena’s still not back yet,” her mother would say with her arms still wrapped around her in the threshold of their home. “So it’s just gonna be us today.”

“Ama…” Jimena whispers, unwilling to believe what she’s hearing.

“Let's get you to the kitchen,” she tugs at her now lone daughter's arm. “You look like a skeleton these days. They’re not going to hire you if you don’t have a little meat on your bones.” She’s quickly whisked away to the kitchen where she finds a veritable feast, and her mothers hired cook nowhere in sight. Her mother can’t cook, a fact known to both sisters, but between the two of them, Elena never had the heart to tell her.

“You should listen to your sister more Nena,” she says brushing some hair out of her face after putting down a full plate of food in front of her. “I’ve put a lot of thought into this and I think she’s right on the money with the idea of trying to make it somewhere else and then coming back.”

“Ama… please listen to me,” she pleads softly with the older woman, wanting to be gentle with her.

“You should really consider Italy,” she would say, not even acknowledging her daughter had said something. “Or France if you want to get a slightly better chance at

It’s then she realizes that her mother is simply parroting back to her what she had been saying to her sister. All the rage and grief that’s been building up inside her bubbles over by that point. Now is when her mother decides to back her up, when it’s far too late to do anything about it?

“She’s gone!” she shouts. “She’s not here anymore, I’m Jimena!”

Her mother doesn’t look shocked, more resolved as she places her head in her hands. “Quiero estar con Elena,” she whispers through her tears.

It occurred to Jimena that this was the first time she had heard her mother speak Spanish in years. Alot of her mother these days is very… performative.

She’s seen it throughout the years how much her mother puts on a show, even simply for her daughters. It’s most apparent when she talks, as rather than using her natural voice, the one that made it impossible for her to break into the “talkies” as she still insists on calling them, she’s instead adopted the mid-atlantic, but the result sounds like if Katherine Hepburn was mocking someone with a Spanish accent.

But hearing her now, Jimena realizes that this is the most honest her mother has been with her in years. The truth doesn’t make it sting any less. Her mother is gone, she just needs to resolve this one last piece of business to go in peace.

Just like she played mother to her own sister for years, she could pretend to be the daughter that her mother needed at that moment. And so she unflinchingly took a bite out of ceviche that only tasted like raw non-marinated shrimp and talked about whether or not to go the Josephine Baker route and start off as a showgirl.

The rest of the day is spent trying to ease her mothers guilt, only to pile it onto Jimena. Her mother would not so subtly explain why Jimena has been right this whole time and why ELena should listen to her. She suspects this is some fucked up way for her mother to tell her it’s not her fault, but all Jimena can hear is how if she had pushed harder her sister would still be here.

At one point her mother would “subtly” hint that she called in a favor with an old friend to take “Tim” down to Mexico so that he can retire. Jimena can’t even find joy in the fact that he’s gone now, because what does that leave her with, if she can’t be the one to kill the man who killed a part of her?

“One more thing Mija,” Gloria says as she runs her nails through Jimena’s hair while they were both laying down in her sister's bed. “Thank your sister for me.”

Jimena hesitates before she asks, that distinct sense of trouble churning her stomach, “For what?”

“For being the mother I could never be for you,” she says, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Mena’s the one I never had to worry about.” And with those final words, her mother settles in behind her and goes to sleep.

The coroner would later say that the fact that she was able to sleep and not be disturbed by whatever took her, she at the very least went without pain.

This is fundamentally untrue as she left all her pain to Jimena.

This event had taken the story from simply sad to a tragedy. A young, beautiful starlet dying of an accidental overdose, is one thing, but add in her bereaved former silent film star mother to the mix, and that’s front-page news worthy. And before Jimena knew it, her loss was now the hottest ticket in town, because all of the cameras were not gonna dare miss such an event, and no star was gonna dare miss the cameras.

It felt that every relatively famous person who vaguely knew either her mother or sister came out of the woodwork to tell some sort of story about them at the funeral. Jimena doesn't really have much to say other than there were definitely some who pulled off the bereaved friend act better than others.

When it finally comes time for her eulogy, she was not as prepared as she thought. In an odd way it would have been better to look out in a sea of strangers, because looking out and seeing a hoard of famous faces who don’t know a single goddamn thing about her, all blank as there is not a single camera trained on them at the moment is far worse than anything imaginable.

She ends up bolting to a backroom before she could make a fool of herself and scream at them all for being here when they’re not. She gives a futile effort to calm herself down by looking at all the gifts from well-wishers.

It was almost funny as it seemed everyone's publicist went to the same gift basket guy as there were maybe a dozen of the same arrangements, and she briefly wondered if they were bought in bulk by the studio and sent in different stars names. But one name in particular gave her pause, and she ripped the card off of the basket, unwilling to believe her own eyes that he could be so callous.

Sorry for your loss

It was hard to comprehend at that moment, and she stupidly turned the little card back and forth unwilling to believe that the man who claimed to care so much for her would only send her an assortment of fruits and cheeses and not even five words.

It’s all too much at that point, her dress is too tight, she’s all alone, her head is spinning, she’s all alone, her tits hurt for some reason, she’s all alone, she wants to throw up, she’s all alone, she’s all alone, she’s all alone…

Jimena’s next conscious thought is realizing she’s in a hospital bed, but not in a hospital. The sound stage she’s on does a good enough job of looking like an actual hospital, save for the fact that an entire wall is missing and what looks to be a couple dozen cameras trained on her prone form. She can’t move anything save for blinking but that simply seems to make her situation worse as the cameras proceed to multiply each and every time.

What does eventually make her accept that this is in fact a dream is when her rotting and decaying mother and sister enter stage left and proceed to rip off the thin hospital blankets. Before she can make any move to protest, she’s quieted with a wave of pain in her lower belly as they both take one of her legs in hand and proceed to spread them wide open for the cameras, each flash searing into her skin like a brand.

She can feel the way her mother and sister dig their fingers into her limbs to keep her in place and helpless as wave after wave of agony seems to flow throughout her entire body. She’s begging for them to let her go, she’s begging the cameras to stop, most of all she’s begging for someone who's not there.

She came to, maybe a day later, this time in an actual hospital with a mild concussion, a baby in her belly, and a broken heart, though they can only officially diagnose the first two.

She had options for this situation. Every woman, famous or not, in the business knew she had options, it was practically part of orientation that they got a list of ten approved doctors by the studio for this very sickness. It was almost treated as a rite of passage for the backstage girls to have to eventually visit a doctor, it’s simply that common.

Jimena’s never had any reason to utilize this option, having 1. Avoided anybody relatively important to necessitate this, and 2. She had always been careful when it came to something like this. And yet somehow Elvis proved to be an exception to these rules. She had admittedly gotten sloppy after the first time he spilled inside her in New Orleans, as after that first time she figured that if anything came from this she could always just visit one of the studio doctors when she got back to LA.

But sitting in a hospital bed, that once hypothetical scenario now a reality, it no longer feels as simple as it once did. She’s near catatonic in her indecisiveness until one of the nurses idly asks if she would be open to visitors should anybody arrive.

And just like that, the prospect of going through with any other option other than keeping the baby made her sick. Because if she did go through with it… then she would well and truly have no one.

It had always been her and Elena against their mother, against the studio, against the world even, but now… she’s gone and it feels like she took a part of Jimena with her.

Jimena’s good at a lot of things, not great, simply good. Jack of all trades they would call her, able to make quick fixes to a golf cart in a pinch, mix the perfect hangover cure, fix a few busted stitches on a dress or person alike, and practically anything else the studio demanded of her.

Maybe in another life her wide-ranging skill set would have made her the greatest actress of her generation, able to play whatever role thrown at her. But in this life it just made her feel hollow. As though she herself is empty and without a part to play save for caring for her sister.

Perhaps it’s true and that’s why she latched onto Elvis for a time, desperately needing to care for someone if only to outrun those fears of inadequacy. But there’s no outrunning anything when half of her is gone.

As for Elvis, she doesn’t exactly know what to do about him just yet. She knew that telling anyone but him first would result in it getting back to the studio and at best she would be “lightly” pressured to go see a doctor, at worst anybody who asks will be told she decided to “retire” in Mexico. So her best bet was to wait it out and hope he contacts her.

Then one fateful morning as she was contemplating how best to ask the studio for bereavement leave, did she get a copy of Excelsior and she read about an exclusive interview Federico de León got with the father of her child.

I would rather kiss three black women than one Mexican.

She thinks she stares at that sentence for a good ten minutes trying to convince herself that she’s somehow misinterpreting this. But the inner smartass has to creep in and force her to face her new reality.

Well… he did more than kiss, she thought spitefully looking down at her belly, now far more prominent than it had been at the funeral months ago. She burns with humiliation and shame as those words run over and over in her head.

She knows personally that there is almost always a grain of truth to stories like these, having had the scoop on many of them months before they got to print. And the fact of the matter is that it’s hard to believe the studio would allow for these to stand if they weren’t true with the movie coming out soon.

As far as she knows, the studio has no idea about the affair between her and Elvis, and she’s going to keep it that way.

What burns her the most is how wrong she was about him, not just as a person but as an actor. That she could’ve ever believed all his sweet words about this grand connection they had and how they were destined to be together. He’s perhaps the best actor she’s ever encountered if he got her of all people to believe all of that shit.

It’s better this way, she tries to tell herself. In a way it is, as this was always an inevitability because regardless of whether he said it or not, there is no world where they ended up together. That’s not how this town works.

Her job makes her the first one to see actors on a given day, and she’s been forced to think on her feet as to how best to make them not only look but be presentable in front of the camera.

She’s had to quickly sober up hundreds of actors and she’s had to figure out just the right amount of drink for each of them that will make them functional but not incoherent. Had to cover up twice as many bruises on actresses' faces so no one will speculate what goes on behind closed doors of their producers husbands. She’s even been the one to diagnose more than a few “social” diseases on set and steer them to the right doctors, so as to prevent a veritable epidemic on set. As haughty as it may sound, productions would fall apart without her.

Low-level she may be, she’s a fixer in this town. She’s not a problem that needs to be fixed.

And she decides neither will her baby.

She’s not gonna beg like a fucking dog to be acknowledged by him, nor will she allow for her child to be forced into the spotlight. It destroyed her sister, it ruined her mother, and it almost claimed her once more.

Elvis may have taken her pride but he won’t have her and he sure as hell will never have her baby.

Now

Elvis will never be used to California weather with its ability to both be hot and dry in the tail end of winter. But he hopes it’ll do him some good of defrosting his bones from the near-year round cold of Germany. Once upon a time he never thought he would enjoy it as much as he does right now.

But he’s found a lot to love and miss about California since he’s been gone so long.

Not to brag but he’s been with his fair share of women, between actual girlfriends, publicity girlfriends and all the girls he knew at best for only a few hours. None of them can claim to have instilled in him this sense of longing the way she did.

Nor can any of them claim to have caused as much heartache as she did.

Bittersweet as they may be, those days filming King Creole he missed the most. It was those days that kept him sane in the lead up to boot camp, and even then some. Though of all the things Hollywood had to offer him, there is only one thing he coveted these last few years.

“You see her over there Billy,” he said to his cousin one day on set as he took a breather from the lights while she fixed up Carolyn’s makeup. “That’s the girl that’s gonna be my wife.” No words have ever felt more right to him.

It was all the more heartbreaking and humiliating when he had sent Billy to find her and figure out why none of the letters he’d been giving to the Colonel to give to her had been answered while he was in boot camp. Billy would return to Texas unable to meet his eyes as he sheepishly handed him a single note in her handwriting.

Three black women huh?

That sinking feeling that settled in his stomach as he remembered those words are something he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget. He recognized those words, how could he not? Afterall those are supposedly the ones he said that got him and his movies banned from an entire goddamn country he ain’t ever been to.

It would be one thing for her to be mad at him for something he did do, but it felt like the worst sort of injustice that Jimi may never want to see him again for words that he never said from a man he never met for some unforgivable slight he never committed.

Worst of all was how he was surrounded by his entourage who gathered around and were now owlishly looking at him, expecting a certain reaction from him, and simply waiting for him so they could properly react.

It’s near paralyzing in that moment that he recognizes that his closest friends aren’t expecting him to react, they’re expecting Elvis Presley to react.

“Her loss,” he remembers saying, feeling every single eye on him in that moment, trying to literally shrug off that scratchy feeling in his throat. He’s supposed to be the biggest heartthrob of America, unfazed when a girl said no because there are no less than a hundred girls that would say yes.

They all follow suit, and quickly take to promising him a night out and reassuring him that he’ll practically be drowning in pussy before midnight. Though with one look he does put an end to that little episode when their support for him turned into disparaging her.

He knows that there is no use in even trying to reason with her over letters. Because what can he really say to her in writing if she’s not gonna even bother reading?

If she already has it in his head that he’s the type of man to say something like that, then no amount of letters will make her believe otherwise.

He would spend the next year trying unsuccessfully to fall out of love with her. Indulged -perhaps too much- in all that bachelorhood had to offer. All the girls he could pull, all the pills he could handle, but none of it could even match a fraction of the euphoric feeling of being complete when Jimena was around.

She loves him. Or at least she used to. She never said it but he certainly felt loved in a way he’s not used to anymore. It’s not the fanatical worship from his fans, nor the sycophantic adoration of his buddies. Her love is something purer, less selfish, something he doesn’t think he’s experienced outside of his mama since the fame started rolling in.

He needs her in his life. Because nobody is going to look out for him or try to protect him the same way she would.

He’s had nothing but time to figure out ways to get her to at the very least hear him out. From there he could start rebuilding the foundation of the relationship and work his way back to her good graces.

His first obstacle to this plan comes in the form of finding out she is no longer doing makeup anymore, and is now in fact part of the wardrobe department. This is a wrench in his plans considering he attributes her fall for him due to the fact that she practically saw him everyday while shooting. But he tries to look at the bright side of this, knowing that it at least guarantees that Brando and Newman haven’t been getting the same treatment from her.

The next obstacle to seeing her again is her initial refusal to be a part of the new production, as now with her new title as Costume designer she’s in a better position to pick and choose what she works on. But enough pressure on the director to push for her specifically does eventually have her signing on to the project.

The final wrench in his plans came the day he had been anticipating for almost two years.

He’s thought about her non-stop for the past two years, so he almost immediately notices the changes in her appearance. No less beautiful (arguably even more so with her bigger tits and rounder hips, and better fitting clothes), she’s different nonetheless, yet none of that prevents him from wanting to gather her in his arms and promise to never let go.

But a single look from her his way, stops him in his tracks. And suddenly he’s brought back to the first time he ever met her, mistaking her for his would be co-star, and wondering how he’s gonna get through this shoot when he feels like he’s two inches tall under this gorgeous creature's gaze.

He was prepared for her hatred, he wasn’t prepared for her complete and utter indifference. She had that glazed over look in her eyes, like he wasn’t even there. It reminds him of one of the few times that he dared to question why she does that whenever he asked what it was like to grow up in Hollywood.

In a rare instance of vulnerability, she would solemnly whisper “It makes it easier to pretend it happened to someone else.” Only minutes after that would she claim to urgently need to go back to her assigned room for the night, the only time she ever did so during production. Next day she would pretend as though nothing happened, and he would follow suit all too willing to indulge her so she wouldn't run off again.

He knows he’s hurt her beyond measure, but to be put in the same categories of things she would rather pretend never happened is gut-wrenching.

If she hated him, he could’ve worked with that, because at the very least she still felt something when she looked at him. But as the whole session went on it became clear she at the very least wanted him to believe she felt nothing for him.

He would’ve taken any sort of reaction by that point: an “accidental” pin prick from the needle, a passive-aggressive tightening of the measuring tape around his neck, hell he would’ve settled for so much as a hateful glare his way. But nothing, stone cold professional she is, she simply takes his measurements only to then give her only acknowledgment that he was even there by giving him a simple “all done.” She then moves on to his co-star with all the eagerness of someone about to brush their teeth, just so painfully indifferent to everything in this room.

Regret is a constant companion these days, always whispering in his ear about his shortcomings, but now it feels like it’s practically screaming in his ear what a failure he is to let a woman like this slip through his fingers.

He’s practically kicking his younger and dumber self for being so cowardly as to miss the chance to tell her how he felt. Not a day has passed since they parted had he not thought about every touch he didn’t follow with I love you, every embrace he didn’t whisper how much she meant to him, every kiss he didn’t beg for her to always stay by his side.

He had been gearing up to try to broach the subject of something more happening, ideally ending up with a courthouse wedding before he had to be sworn in, though he was willing to accept whatever form of a relationship she would offer him so long as she would still be in his life.

But then just a week before wrap-up, when everything was as close to perfect as it could be, that is of course when things went to shit.

Elena Perez, of the famous little firecracker twins, found dead, age 21

It hit him like a punch to the gut when he first saw that. Even though he had never met her, it was devastating all the same, knowing how affected Jimi was gonna be.

The closest he ever did come to meeting her was when Jimi had brought her to the wrap party for Loving You.

He was still pretty new to the art of schmoozing, so his night was almost entirely devoted to an ever present smirk that had begun to hurt his cheeks and laughing a little more than necessary at every joke the studio heads made. He was tired but he knew he would find no rest anywhere. But his tune quickly changed when he saw a familiar figure within the crowd.

He felt his heart go all a flutter when he saw her from behind but then when she turned around there was just something about her that didn’t sit right with him. It was like looking at a funhouse mirror of Jimi, her posture almost ridiculously upright to further push her ample breasts out, her smile a little too tight, but most of all her eyes were a little too hungry, a little too eager to please. The features were nearly entirely the same but he was so used to the casual nature of his makeup girl, it felt so unnatural to see this.

In another life he may have been all over her by this point, taken her home, maybe if he was feeling generous, been seen out in public with her a few times before ultimately moving on. There were beautiful and eager to please women everywhere he looked, there wasn’t really anything special about Elena Leon.

But having met Jimi first, he can’t really fathom having much to do with her.

He spent the better part of two hours ducking and weaving her approach, practically sending out his boys as human shields, to keep her away, because he doesn’t exactly trust himself not to give in to her advances, if only for the consolation prize of getting to be with someone who looked liked the one he actually wanted.

He eventually made his way upstairs after a while no longer wanting to be surrounded by people, as there was only one person he wanted to be with at the moment, and she had apparently decided not to come.

It becomes apparent that he’s been rewarded for his self- restraint when he finds a backside he would know anywhere on the third floor balcony. Swathed in a pretty if non-descript black dress, bottle of champagne in hand, she was looking down on the party like an ever-judging guardian angel.

“Y’know I don’t think they wanted anyone up here,” he would say casually.

He could see the way she practically lit up as she saw him, a soft smile on her gorgeous face and her eyes warm, probably the first person of the night that was genuinely glad to see him. It’s a novel experience for people to see him and not the star, and it’s something he never thought he would miss.

“Well you better get outta here before they see you,” she snarked back.

He laughs for the first time since he got there, and it feels so easy to just settle right next to her and look down on everyone else. He finds himself relaxing for the first time since he’s gotten there.

“So what’s a pretty girl like you doin’ up here all by your lonesome?”

Around a tight smile she says, “There’s already a pretty girl like me down at the party.” He can’t help that he flinches slightly as he thinks about her sister. “I see you met Elena,” she sighs, before plastering a tight-lipped sardonic grin on her face. “So what’d ya think?”

Elvis has the good sense to know a trap when he sees one with women, so rather than using words he just lets out a long breath.

She gives a short mirthful huff. “Yeah that’s fair,” she taps the neck of the bottle trying to undoubtedly figure out a way to change the subject. “If you say some corny ass shit like ‘I think I’m seein’ double’,” she says in a piss poor impression of his own voice. “I will push you off this balcony.”

“You sound like ya done it before sweetheart” he smirks, swiping the bottle from her hand, before taking a swig.

“How else do you think I avoided becoming Charlie Chaplin’s 5th wife?” The simple statement catches him off guard that champagne threatens to come back up his nose.

“... ya serious?” He closes his eyes in relief when she snorts.

“No,” she chuckles, with a hand wave. “I pushed him off because of something else.” Her eyes slide away from him and zero in on one of the partygoers below, before he could dare ask for any further elaboration. “Oh hey… Brody’s here and… uh-oh so is Frank.”

He follows her eyeline to find that she’s wearily looking at ol’ blue eyes himself who has decided to make an appearance. “Ya’ got a story ‘bout Frank?”

“I got a story about everyone here.” With a slight smirk, she would hold two fingers up and ask, “Wanna know how I got these scars?”

She regales him with not just that story but others of what she’s been asked to do on set. Some were funny like having to fish a toupee out of an oscar winner's mouth to more harrowing ones of being asked to check the pulse of particularly heavy drinking stars. Anybody else, he doubts he would have humored such tales, but it’s when he started hearing other people tell even wilder stories of her that ranged from snake-wrangling to resetting famous stars' bones after some sexual misadventure, did he learn early on never to doubt her stories.

“So you come to these things often?” he asks after her giggles had settled down.

“Never,” you answer. “But Elena convinced me we had to come to this one especially,” a bit more solemnly as she looked down at the familiar figure down below at the party. “You know when we were little, we used to climb up onto the roof and watch the parties from up there to tell funny stories and avoid the adults, saying how we were never gonna be like them.” There’s warmth in her voice, but sadness in her eyes as she gazed down at her mirror image at the party below.

Being a twin is not something Elvis liked to dwell on. His Mama had always talked about Jesse watching over him since he was little, but rarely if ever did he really contemplate what it meant to have a brother who wasn’t there with him.

It feels as though he was supposed to have someone that was meant to always be with him and look out for him, but now they’re not here and now he’s doomed to a life of loneliness. This thought is only further reinforced by the way you look at your sister, and something almost akin to jealousy shoots through his being, that she can have you and not value you.

Not like he could, a voice whispers in his head.

“What’s it like being a twin?” he would ask before he could lose his nerve. Though he does immediately clamp up at not just the suddenness of the question but the ease he was able to ask it. He’s tried to broach the subject of Jesse a few times throughout his life only to chicken out at the last minute in fear of upsetting someone, namely his mama.

Though the regret is instant as he watches her mood drop immediately and face him with a disgusted expression, that he can’t quite understand until she says with no amount of venom missing, “No I’m not gonna ask her if she’d be interested in a threesome,” she says, far too quick to have him not believe that this isn’t the first time she’s heard this.

He feels his face immediately go up in flames as to how grossly his words have been misinterpreted. “N-no I-I didn’t mean it like that,” he says quickly trying to salvage the situation and gets a hold of her before she can fully turn around.

“Mmhmm,” she hums dismissively, looking down at the hand that holds her wrist and looking down on him as though he’s the scum of the Earth.

“Darlin’ I-I swear it ain’t nothin’ like that, I just… I…” he stutters out wondering if there’s anyway he can truly explain his interest in her status as a twin without coming off as creepy, but one look at the full moon shining behind you is all the signal he needs to be honest. “Ain’t too many people know this,” he starts, taking a steadying breath trying to find that courage of two men he’s supposed to have. “But I-I had a brother, and…” he swallows hard at this one, always a sensitive subject in the Presley household. “And he-he didn’t make it…”

She looks at him with a critical eye, undoubtedly searching for any sign of falsehoods on his face, only for the hard look to melt when she realizes he spoke nothing but the truth.

“Oh, umm…” she says. “I-I’m sorry to hear that,” her voice dripping with guilt at the assumption.

“It’s fine,” he reassured you. “He was gone ‘fore I even got here.”

It’s hard to talk about Jesse with anyone, because what more can anyone say about him other than he should be here but he isn’t. He has no memories to reflect sadly on, just wishful thinking about who Jesse could’ve been or even who he would’ve been if had him in his life.

“I really don’t know how to describe it,” she says, putting down the bottle she had in her hand. “Because she’s always just… been there, and I’ve always been the one to look out for her.”

“You’re the older one?” he asks with a bit of a laugh.

“Yeah,” she affirmed. “I’ve been doing it my whole life. Stayed up and held her hand when she was too scared to sleep. Did all the stunts she was too afraid to do and broke a couple bones. Threw tantrums when we were filming so she could get a break that she was too nervous to ask for. Dropped out of school so I could get a job on set, so she wasn’t alone. Hell, the only reason I’m here at this stupid party is because she thought she could get in touch with someone who could help her career.” Each admission is met with a more resentful tone, only for her to then try to chase away the taste the words are leaving in your mouth, by taking back the bottle.

“O-oh,” is all he really has to say to that.

“She’s awful,” she admits, but a sardonic smile begins to creep up on her face. “I love her so much.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” she asserts. “There’s no one else in the whole world I would’ve done those things for. I guess that’s what it’s like to be a twin, take care of the person who's been here since you were born. It’s like… having to take care of any other part of your body, but this one is just constantly away from you and you can do nothing but worry.”

Elvis is stunned into silence for a moment as he looks at her, because she is able to finally put into words that anxiousness that has been eating at him his whole life. Even with all the love and reassurance he felt as a kid, there’s always just been that missing part of him that no one has ever been able to understand.

But there’s one part that eats at him still.

“And does she take care of you?” he asks, more curious than anything at this point.

That question catches her off-guard as she rips her eyes away from him and furiously looks down at the party, before she smiles and looks back at him to ask “Wanna hear who Clark Gable had a secret child with?”

Another time he would’ve been very interested in the topic, but seeing her obvious panic as she tried to avoid the very subject keeps him focus. “Don’t do that,” he pleads softly, brushing a few errant curls out of her face. “Don’t shut me out.”

She leans into his hand a little bit and he feels her jaw clench as she tries to get a handle on herself. “I must sound like a crazy person to you,” she says. Granted anyone else, he might’ve thought that, but this is Jimi, the girl who is never bothered by anything. He was witness to how she nonchalantly filed her nails before putting out a camera fire. Watched as she hardly broke her stride when some yahoo tried to scare her with a halloween mask. Hell he’s seen her put out a match with just her fingertips, and only to stare him down to get back onto set.

She’s seen the worst this town has to offer, and yet it’s her seemingly one-sided relationship with her sister that has her on the verge of collapse.

Not if Elvis had any say about that.

He takes it as a good sign when the normally touch-averse Jimi doesn’t immediately pull away from the hand on her shoulder, so he decides to take a chance and fully envelope her in his arms. She stiffens somewhat but otherwise accepts it, and he feels his heartbreak over the unspoken truth that she looks out for Elena, but no one looks out for her.

“I think it sounds like…” he says, taking her chin in his hands, “ya care a lot darlin’, and it don’t sound like she appreciates it as much as she should.”

The ever present indifferent shell she had built over the years cracks with that simple statement of understanding. She has such beautiful doe eyes hidden behind a hard stare, and for only having known her for a few weeks Elvis can appreciate even the chance to see behind the mask.

But he wants to know more. He wants to know all of her.

It feels almost magnetic, the sudden pull he felt towards her in that moment. Nothing could stop him as he leaned down to kiss her full lips. Everything else in the world seems to fall by the wayside, the party, the people, even the city itself no longer existed to him as he held her in his arms.

Their first time with her was nothing short of magic. It felt like the first breath of air after being held underwater for so long.

They just seemed to fit together so well, a fact that couldn’t be denied even as their first time was a quick and dirty session on a balcony under the light of the moon. Like they had been so desperate for each other years even before they met, and now it all culminates to this.

They don’t even really remove their clothes, he just unbuckled his pants on the deck chair while she sat astride him, moving her skirt up her waist and move her panties to the side. Her moans as she slowly impaled herself on his length sound like music to his ears and he can’t help the low groans as he tries to prevent himself from closing his eyes too much wanting to burn the image of her taking his cock while the full moon gives her a truly angelic look behind her.

He wants so badly to hold her but even now she denies him that as she puts a hand over his chest and rides him like she’s trying to tame a bucking stallion. He’s just as enthusiastic for this as he grips her thighs in his hands and

The whole encounter is over and done within a matter of minutes after that, but he’s just glad that she came to and now he didn’t have to feel the shame of finishing before her. She collapses on top of him trying to hold herself upright while he holds her close to his chest as he gives a few lazy thrusts to ride out the rest of his orgasm. He’s never felt more connected to anybody than her in this moment and he wants to truly seal this perfect night when he raises her chin to try to capture her lips.

But she pulls away slightly at the motion, “... I… I should go…” she whispers, and he’s not too sure if she’s saying that more to him or herself.

“...I-if that’s wh-whatcha want baby…” he says, not having the heart to deny her anything, no matter how much every single other part of him is screaming at him to make her stay. The inner conflict practically paralyzes him where he layed and he could only watch as she quickly fixed herself up. It’s mesmerizing to watch, as with only a few quick adjustments, Jimi looks good as new, save for the kiss-swollen lips and the slight uneasiness in her stance, it’s as though nothing had ever happened.

That hurts in a way he can’t explain with words. The idea that the relationship they’ve built in the last few weeks will amount to a one time thing that they go their separate ways from.

But what can he do to stop her if she doesn’t want to be here anymore?

So with all the boldness he’s learned to fake over the last few years, he grabs a hold of her wrist, and tries to give some type of meaning to this whole thing. “Wait darlin’.” He makes a conscious effort not to grip too tight lest he scare her off, but just enough to let her know he’s serious. “What’s your real name?”

Bathed in light of the full moon right behind her, a soft smile on her face as she looks at him though not without that twinge of sadness in her eyes. “Jimena Gabriella Perez.” she said as though it were a good bye.

And with the way she walks away without even a glance back, it’s clear that it was.

He sits there for he doesn’t even know how long just in his head and staring up at the moon. He knows realistically he should be making his way back downstairs, but all desire to mingle with other people seemed to dissipate as he stared up at the full moon. Besides there’s only one person he really wanted to be with at the moment and she apparently could hardly wait to get outta there.

He stared up at the night sky for the longest time trying to gather his thoughts about the situation, trying to figure out why it felt like every nerve in his body was screaming at him not to let her leave. It was all kinds of backwards yet somehow still fitting that he learned her name only after sleeping together.

But try as he might, he can't justify keeping her here when she clearly wants to go.

It felt as though he had known her for years rather than months. In a way it was sort of the truth due to having seen her movies as a kid, but never in his worst nightmares could he imagine the near debilitating feeling that rests in his chest at the prospect of never seeing her again. So he closes his eyes and tries to make peace with the fact he’ll never see Jimena Perez again.

Jimena Perez… JP… Elena Perez… EP…

His eyes shot open at that realization, and as he hurried to make himself somewhat presentable, he berated himself for missing something like that. He has never believed in coincidences and this was far too specific to be anything other than some sort of sign.

But to his chagrin, it’s as though she had dropped off the face of the Earth.

The next day, all anybody could talk about was the scene that the Leon girl made of herself standing on tables and practically flashing the studio head with an impromptu can-can dance, until her sister pulled her off and quickly escorted her out.

It would be another year before he would see her in person again, and that was only because he specifically requested to have her on-set for what he thought would potentially be his last movie. But even then he’s able to find a modicum of peace with that, if only that he will have her in the end, and this whole ride has been worth something.

He doesn’t know what’s more terrifying, the idea that he’ll never be able to communicate how he feels about her or the prospect that he will and she’ll reject him all the same. He even at one point resorted to trying to write them down in order to sort them out.

But each time he tried to put pen to paper it felt like his mind went blank, because how can he explain that it feels like she’s the piece that’s been missing his whole life. That the only time he’s felt whole were the few weeks they spent together. That it can be no coincidence that their names and family names match so perfectly, and it’s gotta be a sign that something else is at play here.

But he realizes that he’s gotta put in the legwork to make fate happen too.

Requesting to have her be In New Orleans, and he planned on working his way to slowly form a friendship into something more permanent. Of course she did throw a wrench into that plan almost immediately the first night when she showed up at his hotel room and declared the couch for herself because she refuses to stay where she was assigned. He wouldn’t have her anyother way.

It’s easy to fall into each other once more, as though it hadn’t been almost a year since they last saw one another. He hopes that maybe this time around he would be able to show her even a fraction of what he feels. In an ideal world they would already be on their way to a courthouse to make it all official so that no one would bat an eye when he brought her to Germany, but even he realizes what a tall order that would be. He’s not one to plan ahead, but he figures it’s gonna be a longer process than he anticipated with her, but Jimi’s worth every moment.

But just like that it all seemed to fall apart.

As sad as it makes him to wake up without her, he’s used to it by this point, but what does worry him is why she wasn’t in his trailer when he arrived on set. It ate at him that seemingly no one cared beyond the grumblings from the other makeup girls who were now having to work more because she’s missing in action. He knows he’s gonna get an earful for this alone from her considering how much she wants to keep their involvement a secret, he does blatantly ask about her by name.

It becomes clear what exactly happened when he notices a discarded newspaper on the director's chair. He immediately calls for a halt to the production so he could go out and look for her, fearing the worst. But due to the already tight schedule practically everyone refuses to do so, even after hearing why exactly she was gone.

At that point he just walks off set and swiftly dispatches every one of his boys to go search the city. He even gets in on it and drives around for a few hours all in an effort to find her, but he returns to his suite so he can pray and pace and worry and hope she comes back before sunset.

When she does get back, the faraway look in her eyes tells him she hasn’t been crying, but the way she’s all clenched up like she’s actively fighting herself from doing so in front of him. He’s having none of it and he brings her into his arms.

It’s only then that she seems to collapse in her grief, and he holds her still knowing that there’s nothing else he could do right now. He’s never seen her like this and immediately he recognizes that he will only ever know a fraction of what she’s going through in that moment.

Elena was a real person whom she’s known all her life, Jimi had confided in him how she’s put her through the absolute wringer with their mama favoring her and her inability to recognize what her sister has been doing for her sake. Jesse has always just been gone, and Elvis could imagine him in whatever way he liked as an older brother. Jimi knew her through all of the ugliest bits of their lives and loved her all the same, even as she slowly spiraled downwards.

“Jimi…” he whispers at a loss for words. He knows that nothing he says could possibly fix this situation and it makes him feel all new sorts of helplessness to the situation.

“Why didn’t I feel it when it happened?” she asked out loud though he gets the sense she isn’t asking looking for an answer from him.

He could hold her tighter so that she wouldn’t feel so alone right now. The rest of the night, and well into the next day, is a blur as he as he waivers between trying to comfort her and arranging for her return to California. He wants to go with her but despite the already tight schedule for filming and the looming date of his induction he’s hoping to be able to at least see her one last time before boot camp.

He remembers finding her red bandana as she was packing everything up, and contemplating telling her. But he selfishly wants a small piece to hold onto until the next time he sees her so he slyly slips it under his pillow, and he promises to himself he would give it back once he saw her again.

But of course the lord himself seemed to laugh in his face as his stunt apparently cost a few extra days of filming and between everything else going on in the lead up to his induction, he couldn’t be there for her. The Colonel had a few of his own men physically hold him to prevent him from getting on the next train to LA after he heard about her mama passing, the only thing swaying him was the Colonel’s promise that it would only be one more day of shooting. One day turned into three and before he knew it he was whisked back home to wait out until his induction, with the only acknowledgement from the Colonel being that he made sure to send condolences to the surviving Leon daughter.

He can only imagine what she went through losing her sister and mother so close together, difficult relationship and all. He would lose his mama only a few months later, and it felt as though every breath threatened to be his last one. Knowing she went through all of this alone, it’s little wonder why all of the letters and invitations he sent at Fort Hood went unanswered.

Sitting in his mothers closet, not wanting to have his grief turned into a photo-op for the press. He now understands why Jimi left the business in the first place. It was as though he was trapped in a fish bowl, drowning and everybody was fighting to be the one to witness his last breath. It makes him feel all the worse for letting her go through that alone.

His biggest regret is that she had to go through all of this alone. He had tried his hardest to try to head back West to see her only to be thwarted each and every time. No amount of Love was gonna thwart Uncle Sam from getting his dues. And before he knew it he was on a ship headed to Europe.

He almost had to relegate himself to the fact that the relationship is unsalvageable after all of it. Truly after experiencing loss himself, he can’t imagine any scenario where she could forgive him, as he could hardly forgive himself.

But for the sake of making tomorrow seem even the minimum amount of bearable he forces himself to dream that things can be fixed and they would eventually be happier than ever.

Because if they don’t… then what’s the point?

After all they had gone through separately he knew in his heart that there would never be anyone who could understand him like she could. A twin without a twin, and a child without a mother, a lonely soul surrounded by others, and most of all a person in desperate need of love beyond simple admiration.

There had always been an ever-present hollow feeling in his life, something he never even recognized until she was no longer present to relieve him from that emptiness. She understands him more than anyone ever will, and the idea of letting her go without a fight is something he simply can’t do.

The almighty himself has tied them together unlike anything he’s ever seen before and to choose another path would be blasphemous at this point.

All his thoughts on who Jesse would’ve been have been answered when he pointed Elvis in her direction. He has to believe that he wouldn’t do him dirty by bringing him to his soulmate only for fate to snatch her away all the same. He has to believe that things will get better, otherwise what’s the point of continuing on?

But he has to grin and bear the hell that will be trying to live without her in Germany. But if his time in Hollywood taught him anything, it’s how to pretend to be someone he’s not.

It’s easy to pretend to be the good Sergeant Preseley in Germany, charm the pants off a couple girls, do whatever he’s assigned to do by the higher-ups, take whatever the doctors give him so that he can do both, abstain from playing music, act like it’s not killing him, etc,. Behind the scenes he becomes needier than ever, truly fearing being alone now of all times, because he doubts he could keep this up without an audience presence.

Everybody has seemed to become the audience regardless of how close they previously were to him, it’s hard to think of them as anything else considering that he’s playing a part for them all so they could believe that he’s fine.

This all adds to his longing for Jimi, knowing that she saw through him easily and he never had to worry about being anything less than himself around her.

But playing his role helps ease the ache that stems from every thought that she brings to his heart, as then it can be somebody else experiencing that devastation. So he bides his time and plays his part in Germany. Trying to fill that sinking feeling he got in his chest every time he thought about Jimi with more partying, more drugs, more women, just more everything. Even with all that, that sinkhole in his chest seemingly grew bigger and bigger every morning he woke up and she wasn't with him.

His heart has been broken since the day he was born, and it has been a mad scramble for the pieces for everyone ever since. His brother took a piece with him when he left, as did his mama, and everybody else who had a piece had been doing jackshit to appreciate it.

He had only one piece of it left really, and he had spent his entire life trying to find someone who he could trust to take care of it. And like a goddamn miracle his brother was able to answer for him, and pointed him in her direction. And finally he found the person he could give that final piece of his heart to.

But she hurt him in a way that no one has ever been able to do so. She didn’t take advantage of his heart, or reject it, or even betray it. Worse yet, she couldn’t recognize what he was giving her. The life Jimi had been living had turned her cynical to his intentions for her. And every fear she may have ever had about him had been proven true with just that one little article.

He can’t even blame her for being angry, as he doubts he would’ve been able to keep a lid on something like this in her shoes. But he can’t dwell on it, he can only move forward and try his best to fix this.

It had truly felt like the world was conspiring against him in that year, as he had to watch as everything he loved slipped through his fingers, all for what. All for a dream that he wasn’t even sure was worth it anymore, nor something he could actually be a part of.

Being enlisted and overseas already, there was always the lingering threat that if anything happens with the Reds, he’s already here to fight the good fight and all that. Be the good soldier, who would gladly lay down his life for his country.

Really he just wants to lay down.

Sometimes forever.

In the worst days he was so sure he was gonna die there, whether by an enemy hand or by his own, he couldn’t decide. Really the only thing that kept him going was the slim chance that she would be willing to hear him out if he ever came back stateside. Those nights he would hold onto that small piece of her trying to convince himself of the illusion that she’s waiting for him, and dying here would only mean he would lose any chance of seeing her again.

At one point it stopped smelling like her and he resorted to ordering a bottle of her perfume just to preserve the illusion that she was still waiting for him. He probably doused the cloth with a quarter of the bottle, and inhaled half of that all to maintain the illusion of her still willing to come back to him eventually. He’s sure if that hadn’t worked in easing his nerves he would’ve downed everything in his medicine cabinet and called it a night.

He’s put everything he is into this hope that he could possibly get a second chance, full well knowing he’s undeserving of one.

So he’s not about to let her go so easily.

Jimi’s actually not that hard to find on the lot, especially now that she has a door with her name on it. She’s certainly made her way up, having turned her previous doodles in the margins of production notes and discarded scripts into a new position complete with a title and an office.

He knocks at the door with her name on it, and waits a moment, what sounds like the dumbo soundtrack quickly being drowned out by the heart-pounding in his ears. She doesn’t keep him waiting long, as she opens up the door only to immediately close it just enough so that only her head is sticking out. “Fittings are next week,” she says neutrally before she then proceeds to try to close the door in his face. He is too fast though as he shoves his foot in the crack and pushes it open.

“Jimi, please,” he pushes the door further, but stops once he sees the panicked look on her face. He holds his hands up in surrender but makes no move to remove the foot.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in annoyance, before she opens her mouth again. “If I promise to talk, will you leave me alone after this?”

So sure of himself he nods, truly believing that he just needs to explain and then they can go back to the way they used to be.

She puts a hand on his chest to motion him to step away from the door before she herself comes out. She does so in the oddest way possible, by sliding herself between the door and the frame, as though she was trying to prevent him from seeing inside her office. She looks back inside and tells who he presumes to be the others she shares the office with that she’s gonna get lunch, and to hold everything down.

“So you want to talk? Talk then,” she states, breaking that line of thought as she leans against the bulletin board.

He figures she would have such a no nonsense reaction like this, and takes a steadying breath in order to deliver what

“Jimi… I know why you’re mad,” he starts off slowly. “Believe me I would be hoppin’ mad if i read that…”

“I forgive you,” she cuts in. “We done here?”

“Wh-what?”

“Are we done here?” She repeats slower this time to really emphasize her words.

“N-no Jimi,” he begs. “The things the papers said are just lies. I ain’t ever said that”

She gives a short mirthful laugh when she hears that, “Elvis if I had a fucking dime everytime I heard that line,” she rolls her eyes. “But it’s fine. I don’t care anymore. I’m not in the business of telling the papers anything, so you don’t gotta worry about everyone figuring out you’re a hypocrite.”

“But… I’m not…”

She pats his cheek and gives a thin smile as she pushes herself off the wall, and gives a dry, “Of course you’re not.”

“Jimi listen to me,” he begs, briefly wondering why Jesse had to pick the most stubborn woman alive for him. “I never said any of that.”

“Mhmm,” she hums, the thin line of her mouth and the way she’s checking her nails for dirt, telling him she has no faith in his words.

“Jimi,” he pleads with her, taking her hand and placing it on his chest. “You gotta believe that I would never say somethin’ like that. I love you so goddamn much and I especially ain’t never wanted to hurt you.”

She may not be able to rely on her knowledge of him, but he knows her well enough to know that she recognizes good acting from bad acting. Watching as her eyes soften from their previous hard stare, he knows that she understands that this is far from an act. This is by far the most honest he’s been with anyone since his mama passed, and the doubt in her own assumptions of him shows all over her face.

He thinks he’s finally getting through to her, until she glances behind him and he watches as her dark eyes harden once more. “You don’t love me, and it doesn’t matter what I believe Elvis,” she snatches her hand out of his, and walks back towards her office before slamming the door.

He stands there for he doesn’t even know how long, trying to justify why he should even keep breathing at this point, his catatonic state only helping to prevent him from doing something stupid in the face of the worst rejection he’s ever had. This isn’t a girl laughing in his face over being asked to the school dance or a stuffy actress looking down her nose at his hillbilly ways, this is a part of his soul refusing to come back to him.

This can’t be the end, a voice in his head whispers. He tries to repeat these words in his head if only to make the hope he has a little more real. He knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as him returning, and she would automatically throw herself into his arms. He already knew it was going to be an uphill battle for her love once again, but the flat-out rejections and refusal of his declaration just made everything so real in that moment.

When Jimi cares, she does so with all her being, and he knows at some point she cared enough about him to befriend him, and there’s no way that all disappeared in the last two years. To some extent she still cares about Elvis, and that’s why he refuses to give up on her so easily.

But she’s not one to be swayed so easily.

Gifts and letters and songs for her, are all met with the same stony indifference that has marked her status as near untouchable. Her schedule is next to unpredictable as it seems that everytime he does try to send someone over for her she’s conveniently out of the office.

Each rejection further drove him closer and closer towards that edge he’d been resisting since he landed in Germany. He would toss and turn at night, not wanting to be alone but at the same time wanting no one but Jimi with him. It’s even worse than it was before considering the fact that she’s so close that he could almost touch her, but she’s like smoke, he can see her there but never truly grab a hold of her.

Something that only intensifies once shooting actually begins and he knows just how close she is day in and day out on the lot. It’s nothing short of torture to have all that he needs in life so close, yet just out of reach.

Off camera and out of the studio he’s barely keeping it together, the years of pretending to be okay in front of people only barely enough to sustain the image he’s made for himself as well as doing the job he was tasked with. Everybody wants a piece of him now that he’s back, and he doesn’t know if he has any left to give anymore.

It all came to a head one day when he walks into the wardrobe building and sees one of the girls holding a small toddler girl. It strikes him how similar the little girl looked to Jimi back in her firecracker days, even down to the ribbon tying her hair back. He muses for half a second that that’s what their daughter would look like, and then it hits him like a ton of bricks that may never come to pass.

He’s trying to make her not hate his guts, and with how little success he’s been having, he’ll be lucky if she even looks at him again before he’s Dodgers age. He’s closer to never having her love him again than he is to someday.

He had come with the intention of showing her the bandana he had been holding onto all of these years, to show how devoted he’s been to her. Now holding it in his hands and remembering that initial promise to give it back to her, he realizes what a fool he’s been. He’s been selfishly holding onto something that’s not there anymore, because he was too much of a coward to actually do what he needed to get what he wanted.

He didn’t want to believe it was too late for them, but seeing that little girl, he realized how much time he’s lost. Where he’s spent the last two years nurturing his love for her, she's been feeding her hatred for him. If he’s gonna be in love with her for the rest of his life, she’ll hate him for the rest of hers.

She’s made it clear that she wants nothing to do with him anymore, and he can’t blame her for it. He should’ve been there for her, damn the consequences, but he wasn’t and now he has to live with what he did.

Though once he gives it back, jury's out on how much longer he will live.

Resolved in his need to do right by her, he solemnly walks to the costume department with about the same enthusiasm as he would the gallows. Perhaps there is no coming back from this, and perhaps he wouldn’t deserve one either way. He was a coward who let what he wanted walk away time and time again, not having enough will to hold on to her.

And he doesn’t have the strength to try to hold on any longer.

Finally as he’s just about to turn the corner to where he knows her office is, only to stop in his tracks, and realize that once he gives it back… it’s all over. He’s strangely okay with that once he reconciles he won’t be feeling that way for much longer.

Turning the corner he sees a familiar figure looking at a bulletin board, and standing right beside her was a significantly smaller figure.

It takes him a moment to realize what he’s looking at, but the second he does it feels like all the air has been sucked out of his lungs.

He’s tempted to look down at his own feet to reassure himself he's still on solid ground, and that the floor hadn’t been taken out from under him, but truly no force on Earth could make him look away from the little one at her feet.

The boy is standing barely taller than her knee, wearing light green overalls with what looks to be a little yellow duck on the front pocket. His honey hair - a few shades darker than Elvis’ own natural locks- is slicked back on the sides allowing for some bronze curls to hang over his forehead but it’s really his face that comes like a punch to the gut to Elvis.

Vain as it may sound, Elvis knows his own face, even when it’s softened with baby fat and slightly darkened from the California sun, and that’s all he sees when he looks down at the brown-eyed little boy that’s clutching onto a woman’s skirt and idly sucking his thumb.

It’s as he’s wondering what happened to his eye color when the eyes in question finally take notice of him, and the little boy rapidly tugs at the pencil skirt he’d had a tight grip on. In his head he’s still trying to justify any other way someone could have a little clone of himself that isn’t the most obvious answer, until he watches Jimi crouch down in her heels as she gently strokes the little boy's plump cheek.

“¿Que paso Papi?” she asks, adoration in her voice as she brings him close to her face, before planting a kiss on his cheek.

The boy, too shy or too young, to answer only points a chubby little finger his way, his dark eyes wide in wonder. As her eyes follow, Elvis sees her jaw clench and most of her previous warmth seemed to sap out of her at the very sight of him. It truly feels like the first time she’s actually looked at him in a long time without her eyes immediately sweeping over him dismissively, so he can’t help but welcome it.

In one fluid motion, she competently scoops up the small boy up in her arms and begins to make her way towards him, her heels clacking ominously as though she were an oncoming vengeful mother goddess set to rain down fire upon him.

Elvis is usually quicker on his feet but it feels as though they had been replaced by cement as he’s frozen in place with no sign of escape. But he doesn’t think he really wants that anymore as it now gives him a better look at the boy.

“Can I help you?” she asks, painfully neutral, as though she’s simply asking what he wants for lunch and not in fact holding a mini version of himself in her arms.

“Wh-” he starts but has to swallow before he can get too choked up. “What the hell is this?”

“It looks like,” she answers and he perks up at that both eager and fearful of what she has to say. “My old bandana,” she states, much to his confusion, until he follows her dark eyes to the fabric still within his grasp.

Her flippancy just enrages him, “You know damn well what I mean!” pointing a finger in the direction of the small boy in her arms. Guilt quickly eats at his belly as the boy turns from him and buries his face in her neck out of fear, as she continues to look at him with the disdain in her eyes only growing.

“Oh…” she says dryly as though she only now remembers the boy in her arms, even though she had been consistently rubbing soothing circles on his tiny back since he got scared. “This is my son.” A simple no-nonsense answer, but he doesn’t miss the way she neglects to mention a name. “You can go ahead and throw it away, I don’t need it anymore.”

He wants to say something about that. He wants to be mad at her for being so goddamn stubborn about this as though his whole world isn’t being rocked right now. But he can’t muster any of that as he just finds himself just wanting to look at the boy in her arms some more. The little one looks back and forth between the two of them, but he does seem to settle after gauging that his mama is not in the least bit shaken by the man before them, and adopts her bored looking expression, though the boy does keep a wary eye on him even as his mother turns them both away from him.

“Wait,” he says as he quickly grabs her elbow. Her hackles rise at just that little bit of contact, like a rattlesnake coiled up and ready to strike, but he won’t be stopped from knowing the truth. “Is… is he-”

“No,” she cuts him off, before looking over his shoulder and closing her eyes- seemingly in annoyance- only to then plaster a wide phony smile on her face as she looks at him. “Thank you for bringing it to my attention.” saccharine sweet, as though she had been in a completely different conversation before ripping her arm out of his grasp and walking past him. “I’ll be sure to add those notes into the costume.” Without even a goodbye she rushes past him.

He turns around to see the second most gut-wrenching thing of the day as a woman approaches Jimi and hands over to her another child,and he realizes it’s that same little girl from earlier. The love of his life expertly balances the additional toddler on her other hip as she plants a swift kiss to her cheek before exchanging a few words with the woman in front of her and walks back down the hall, not even bothering to look back at him.

That woman quickly approaches and stands in front of him, obviously trying to run interference between the two of them. Trying to keep the two of them apart like everybody else has seemingly made their mission.

He honestly hears nothing of it as he starts to tail Jimi down the hall, his entire focus is on the little girl, heart-breakingly sweet with her little cherubic face, her dark curls held at bay with the red ribbon, as she opens and closes her tiny hand at him as though to once again say good-bye. Meanwhile the little boy, whose face is still firmly in his mama’s collar, risks a quick peek back at him before quickly burying himself back in place as the echo of yherour heels on the linoleum floors lessens as she gets further and further away.

He’s able to catch her before she can get out of the building, quickly blocking her from the exiting door. She still has that infuriating cool expression on her face, looking at him as though he were a mere inconvenience on her way out the door.

“Jimi…” he pleads, taking her shoulders in his hands forcing her to look at him. “Jimi, look me in the eye, and tell me they ain’t mine.”

She gives him such a cold stare that he can feel a shiver travel down his spine, the dread of her words tying his stomach in knots, as he anticipates her answer. Somehow she’s able to make it all the crueler, even as her (his?) son starts to suckle on the collar of her blouse, while her (their?) daughter has managed to dislodge a chunk of her thick dark locks from her braid and begin to play with it.

“Why would I want them to be yours?”

A punch to the gut, a kick to his face, a knife to his heart, those are all the things he would have preferred she had done over saying that. For a second, even she seems taken aback by the cruelty of her own words, until that hard look returns to her eyes as the little boy begins to pat her cheek for attention.

She looks down at him with a soft smile on her face before giving them both a kiss to the forehead and sidestepping him in order to get out the door, not even bothering to acknowledge him.

He doesn’t know how long he stays in that spot but by the time Joe (or was it Charlie?) finds him and he’s practically stiff as a board, and just about as responsive. Nobody fights him on it when he just declares that he has to call it for the day, so it’s not too long before he’s kicking off his shoes and crawling underneath the covers still fully clothed. His mind raced, doing its best to put together what the hell he had seen today. Trying to comprehend how much of himself he had left behind with her.

When he started making waves he had to have the most awkward talk of his life with the Colonel to always wrap it or at least become proficient in never finishing inside of a woman, because the last thing he needed was a baby. And he was for it completely, nowhere ready to settle down yet, and with everything looking so vibrant and new to him, he saw no end in sight.

He can think of one night in particular back in New Orleans, after almost twenty hours on set, Jimi had excused herself from any of the usual get-togethers and headed straight to his room. After she had declared that her room situation is unmanageable she had set up shop initially on his hotel room couch, though lately they hadn’t even been bothering with that pretext. So it wasn’t too shocking to find her in his bed, spread out on her front like a starfish in nothing but a simple slip.

What was shocking was the wave of contentment that washes over him seeing her there, just the utter feeling of rightness that the image brings. The powdery blue slip gorgeous on her dark skin tone, and he has to hold back a groan when he sees how high it’s ridden in her sleep giving him a tantalizing view of the back of her thighs, just effortlessly sensual, even in her sleep. He can’t imagine anything better to come home to. What he found even more tempting was her defenseless pert nose, and remembering the way it would scrunch up when she smiled. He knows he’s either going to get that reaction or swift punch to the chest for what he does next.

She still manages to keep him on his toes when she simply does both after he peppers her face in kisses. He reels a bit from the blow, playing up the injury just a little as he sees her shoulders bounce a little in poorly held in laughter.

“They gotchu workin’ to the bone sweetheart,” he remarks, as he rubs the spot between her shoulder blades that has her giving a euphoric groan. He is genuinely offended that the studio would make her have to work like a dog, all for a single line in the credits.

“This whole production would fall apart without me,” she sighs, while he lets out a laugh in agreement.

“You ever think about quittin’?” He asks a bit off the cuff, but he can’t help it seeing the woman he loves running herself ragged for people who sure as hell don’t care for her.

“Maybe,” she answers through her drowsy state, turning to face him directly. “I don’t think I would leave, but maybe if I get married I would probably do something with less hours, like costumes.”

He felt his heart speed up a little when she mentioned the word “married” but not in the way it used to do when other girls brought up the idea. No, rather than having that sour feeling in his belly, he’s practically giddy over the prospect with her. “So I guess ya just waitin’ for the right actor to sweep you off ya feet darlin’?” he brings her close, smiling into her hair and absentmindedly stoking the hand she lays on his chest.

But this happiness is ripped away by a simple snort from her, only to then be further crushed into dust as she has a full-on laughing fit at the mere prospect.

“No,” she says, wiping the tears from her eyes, trying to get a hold of her laughter, unknowing of how soul-crushing her words are. “I’d never marry an actor.”

It feels like every ounce of hope for the future saps out of him at that moment.

“O-oh wh-why’s that?” fighting to keep his face from showing the devastation he feels inside. A knife in his heart would have been preferable at that point, because then she would have at least acknowledged he had one to break.

She gives a mere shrug, of her shoulders, “I don’t really know how to explain it other than it wouldn't work.”

If he were a braver man, he would have had the balls to ask her “If that’s true… then what’s all this been about?” But he's a goddamn coward and this question dies on the tip of his tongue, far too afraid of what she may answer.

As these nights usually talking leads to kissing and while she is willing she offers first to use her mouth, and while he doesn’t hold back the groan when he hears this, he knows that that won’t be enough for him even if he can’t pinpoint why.

“Okay,” she yawns, as she lifts her hips up, presenting her ass in the air while she wraps her arms around a pillow and sleepily buries her face in it. “But you gotta do all the work.”

She’s done this before, tried to feign indifference toward the act, and tried to play it off that she didn’t absolutely enjoy it each and every time. This is a game that Elvis has yet to lose.

He knows her well enough to know how to get her going even when she insists she’s not in the mood. How a light touch up her spine as her perk her ass up, while a nibble to her ear has her making the most adorable little noises. And still it feels like he learns something new about her everyday, with today’s new lesson that she loses all of her carefully crafted composure when he sits on his knees and raises her thighs over his shoulders.

She lets out a surprised gasp as she barely catches herself on her hands, only for it to turn into a low moan when he takes a long lick up her slit. Nothing tastes sweeter on his tongue than the evidence that she wasn’t as disinterested as she claims, and with her so nicely open for him now he plunges his tongue as deep as he could go.

Any semblance of composure is gone the moment he had almost entirely upside down, her arms shaking with the effort to try to keep herself up.

“You like that sweetheart?” he whispers, only slightly muffled by her flesh.

“Yes,” she moans enthusiastically as he feels her small hand palm at his still clothed length, and he gives a little chaste kiss of appreciation on her clit that has her gasping for air. While any other night he would’ve gladly indulged her need to taste him, he did promise to do all of the work. So as he delves his tongue as deep as it could go he knows she’s good and ready as he feels her slick drip down to his wrist as he rubs that button of hers.

She lets out a devastating sob as she comes, and before she’s had a chance to recover barely had time to recover before he’s flipping her over and pressing her knees to her chest as he thrusts inside all in one motion. Her back arches and her mouth opens and closes repeatedly, gasping for air as though she could feel him all the way in her throat.

Entering her is always such an indescribable feeling, somewhere between euphoric and comforting. And there have even been days when the only thing on his mind on set was how best to get her alone so that he could get her like this once again. As he crams his cock at a steady rhythm, he imagines it’s the same way everyone else who goes to work on a regular job pictures being home at the end of the day.

If he was a little rougher that night, it was only so that she could feel a fraction of his anguish that she caused. He both envies and resents her ability to be able to picture a life without him, when no future of his would be complete without her.

He had spilled in her before that point, but it had always been an accident as something about her made him slower on the draw than he was with anybody else. But in that moment before he knew he was gonna cum, seeing her thrash and arch her back and push even further into him, time seemed to slow for a second and there was a moment where he saw quick as lightning just the image of her heavy and glowing with a baby.

His baby.

He can’t remember a time he came so hard, and with the way she collapsed back in the pillow he knew she was just as affected by it too. The way she’s quaking with every breath before peaking out at him through the curtain of her hair is something he doubts he’ll ever forget as places light kisses on her shoulders to add some tenderness to the rough act.

With great reluctance and curiosity getting the better of him he pulls out his softened member, and he’s treated to the most erotic thing he’s ever seen in his life as he watches his seed slowly drip out of her folds. If he wasn’t absolutely sure that that last one had taken everything out of him he would be ready to go again from the sight of this alone.

Something in the back of his head whispers to find something to plug her up to really make sure it takes this time. But before he can act on this he sees her get her bearings on her, and she reaches between her legs. She gives a soft curse as she sees his spend on her fingers, before making a move to roll out of bed towards the bathroom. But he was quick to snatch her back and tell her to just lay with him until he fell asleep. She would only give an annoyed little huff, and give sleepy demands for beignets for breakfast in return for this favor.

He slept easier that night with his hand on her belly, believing that he would be able to find a way to keep her with him.

This would be far from the last time he would spill in her during production, but it would be the last time he could call it an accident. If he’s being honest with himself he thinks he fully intended to get her pregnant in some sort of convoluted plot to get her to settle down with him. That once she had a baby in her, she would have no choice but to marry him and leave it all behind. No more ungrateful sister or disparaging mother, Jimi could finally focus all of her attention on a family that would take care of her back.

But then everything happened all at once, and suddenly she was beyond his reach, and soon she took with her all of his hopes of having a life worth living.

Since his career had taken off, more than a few women had already accused him of fathering their babies. Of the few of them that weren’t talking outta their ass, he had seen a few of the kids, and while there were some that may have had a few features similar to him, none had come close to the little clone boy he had seen of himself in Jimi’s arms.

Others woulda chalked it up to just him getting older and wanting to settle down and any baby with a passing resemblance woulda done this to him. But there was something even beyond longing, it was that sense of rightness that has been missing from his life for a long time, something he wouldn’t’ve gotten with just any baby.

On the day they were shooting with the babies he tried to test this theory. But even holding a few of the kids, not a single one of them was able to stir anything close to that fatherly warmth that just looking or even thinking about the two little ones she held that day.

It’s not like he felt nothing holding these babies, like he wished them any harm, but he more or less cared about them the same way he would care about a random puppy: fun to play with in the moment, but didn’t really mean he cared enough for the hard or messy parts of taking care of it.

As he’s holding probably the biggest one of the lot, he realized this one is still smaller than either of his babies. Someone off-handedly asked how old this one was, he feels his throat close up at the answer.

A Year, he thinks to himself as he hands the slobbering infant back to its mother. How much did I miss? Can they walk? Can they talk?

Even as their mamas were packing them up to leave for the day, all of them would wave goodbye to him, but none of it compared to the heart-wrenching feeling remembering those two little ones she held in her arms.

In his heart he knew they were his, he didn't care what she had to say about it.

Two people, both from a set of twins, get together and create the two most beautiful and perfect babies he’s ever seen, and she thinks that means nothing? That she can just step away from him and deny him his rights as a father?

What did he miss all this time away? The boy was standing on his own, so did he already take his first shaky steps? The little girl was babbling nonsense to him, has she been able to actually make words?

Lord, he doesn't even know their names. He has so many questions and next to no answers.

But even for all the anguish it’s causing him, he can feel it in his chest how their existence has reinvigorated him beyond what he thought he was capable of anymore. He had been on the cusp of hopelessness, fully believing that without he wouldn’t be long for this world without Jimi.

But seeing them was like seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, now knowing that Jimi couldn’t get rid of a piece of him, proves it’s not too late for them.

So he went about getting answers the same way she taught him to: ask the crew. To his luck everybody seemed to know something or another about what Jimi had been up to the last few years. Through the various tidbits here and there he was slowly able to piece together a story.

How some asshole had taken advantage of her grief after losing her entire family with promises to take care of her in her time of need, and how he didn’t even wait till the ink was dry on the marriage certificate before scurrying his ass back to Mexico leaving her with less than half of her inheritance and a couple of babies in her belly. She came back to Paramount as a costume designer a couple months back after calling in a few favors with some of the higher-ups, and has been flagrantly breaking the rules by bringing the babies on to set.

Jimi wasn’t lying when she said that make-up girls hear everything there is to know in this town. Unfortunately he finds out the hard way that that goes for all of them, even those that now work in the costume department.

“I hear you’ve been asking about me,” a familiar voice would coldly say as she wrapped the cape around his neck.

He doesn’t have to look up to know who it is, but he does look around to make sure the other make-up girl was gone. This at the very least confirms that she’s keeping her cards as close to her chest as possible, and trying to prevent anybody from figuring it out.

“I had a right to know Jimi,” he answers, not looking directly at her face but through the mirror. A trick he learned when he first met her when he wanted to get her genuine reaction on something, he could only do so when she thought she wasn’t being looked at directly. It still proves to be true when he sees her jaw clench the slightest bit at his comment.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says apathetically but immediately contradicts herself when she gives a firm yank to his hair so that he’s looking right up at her.

He gives a small grunt, though he does smile a bit at finally being able to get a reaction out of her. “Well now, last time I saw you like this-”

“Elvis,” she cuts off sharply before she grits out, “Leave. It. Alone.”

Now it’s his turn to react as his jaw clenches in frustration at the audacity. “Why should I?”

“Elvis…” she says slowly like he’s a child. “What do you think is going to happen if you are the father?”

He opens his mouth to argue with her, only to come up short. He hadn’t really thought farther ahead other than being able to have them all in his life. But what would that mean for them? How would people react to him not only having kids now, but having them this whole time and only now stepping up?

“That’s what I thought,” she says, placing down the comb. “Don’t worry,” she pats his cheek, maybe a little harder than necessary, “Nobody’s gonna believe they’re yours after what you said.”

He explodes hearing this, “How many times do I gotta tell ya?! I didn’t say that shit!” He stands to his full height to tower over her.

“It doesn’t matter Elvis!” she says, raising her voice for the first time since he’s known her, not in the least bit intimidated by him. “Do you really think they’re gonna just accept that you had two kids out of wedlock, and especially with a Mexican woman? Especially now that they’re trying to sell you off as this wholesome family act, do you think the studio is gonna stand for that shit.” Her eyes begin to go a bit glassy as she says the next part. “Your career might be in danger, but my literal life is at stake if they even think I could be a threat to the comeback they’re trying so hard to make happen for you.”

She squeezes her eyes shut at this point like she’s trying to will the tears back into her eyes, and her chest seems just a step away from being considered heaving, making it clear to Elvis she is trying so hard to keep the image she’s crafted for herself intact. Elvis can appreciate how yet again he’s the only one able to look past the curtain and see her for who she is.

Finally after taking a deep breath her bloodshot eyes open and she gives a somber, “Do you know how my last movie ended?” Her voice severe and distant, her hands placed on the hinges of the trailer door.

He’s a little stumped by the heel-turn of this conversation, but he plays along if only to convince himself he still has a chance to convince her otherwise. “You got your folks back together didn’tcha?

“No,” she says bitterly. “That last movie ended with the worst box office turnout of the year, because it was banned in most southern states -including yours- because the white man ended up with the mexican mother,” there the sardonic smirk on her face tells him she finds little humor in what she’s saying. “The studios forced us to tell that story and blamed us when nobody wanted to see it…”

“Jimi,” he starts placing a hand on her shoulder before she rips it away. “Baby, it’s a different time now,” though even he realizes how hollow those words are.

“Let me finish!” she shouts, tears trailing down her face as she looks back at him. “This isn’t a movie,” she declares. “There is no happy ending for anybody if you keep digging. Not for you, not for me, and especially not for my babies.”

Our babies, is on the tip of his tongue, but he holds back.

“I’m not gonna have my babies a part of that life Elvis,” she glares at him. “They don’t need you. I don’t need you.” She turns her head and he can see the tears that threaten to fall in the corners of her eyes. “So just… leave it.”

And with seemingly the final word, she walks out of his trailer and he falls back heavy into his chair, utterly exhausted by the encounter. His chest feels tight, the shallow breathes he’s able to take doing little to remedy the feeling, his hands shaking out of fury and grief for the life that’s been stolen from him. On top of all of that his vision starts to blur with the tears clouding them, but that doesn’t stop him from noticing the movement in the mirror.

He quickly gathers himself as best he could and turns to face whoever just entered his trailer, but he finds himself alone. That is until he looks at the mirror again.

He knows he must look a mess right now, but the mirror doesn’t reflect that whatsoever with the stony features he sees looking back at him. Elvis knows his face, and he knows when he’s not looking at his face. But Elvis knows who this is even before he opens his mouth with the only words he’ll speak to him.

“Go getcha girl,” Jesse whispers.

And just like that he’s gone, and Elvis looks at his own reflection once again. With that little bit of brotherly guidance, Elvis comes to one startling realization: She’s right.

She’s right, this isn’t a movie.

So that means he doesn't gotta be nice about getting her back.

He’s spent the last nearly two years planning how he was going to apologize to her over something he didn’t even do. Where is the justice in that? It’s as though she’s only capable of seeing him in the worst possible light.

If she want’s a villain so goddamn bad then he’ll give her one.

What a cruel power did God give to women. To take a piece of man, to mold and create something so wonderful and joyful, only to be able to deny him that if she felt so inclined. Usually the duplicitous ones will take from one man and claim it to be from another, all for gain, but Jimi is far more sadistic with this power, to hold two little mirrors in her arms and deny him his very own image.

It’s enough to drive a lesser man insane.

No.

She’s not gonna deny him this.

Jesse may have gotten him started on this path, but he can no longer just rely on fate to bring them together. He will take matters into his own hands, and they will be together.

He remembers the first time he had seen one of her films as a kid. It was his 8th birthday and he had begged his Mama to let him go to the movies to see literally anything that day, and it so happened to be that one where the two sisters unintentionally thwarted some robbers in their house.

He remembers laughing as Nena was sent into one room only for Mena to rip down the hallways as soon as the door was closed much to the confusion of the would-be criminals. He remembers the fear he felt when Mena seemingly fell out a window with the next shot being one of them lying on their stomach on the ground only for the next scene to reveal they had pulled the old switcheroo. He remembers the end when their parents finally came home and were glad that them burglars didn’t get their most precious treasures- their daughters.

Most of all he remembers glancing over at the empty seat next to him and wondering if these were the sort of antics him and Jesse were meant to get up to. His mama never kept his brother a secret from him, always telling him how he’d have the strength of two, but he always knew on some level she would have preferred two regularly strong boys rather than just one really strong one.

That feeling he got when looking at the vacant seat next to him is the same feeling he gets everytime he looks at his Hillcrest home now. The realization as to how fundamentally empty a home is without a family to fill it.

Fate denied him his brother before he even entered the world. Death had snatched his mother out from under him. And that horrible Stanley woman was working double time to take his daddy away from him too. He’s not about to let Jimi keep him away from any more of his family, just because she wants to be stubborn.

Now, knowing of their existence he knows he needs them in his life. He needs her in his life.

The PI didn’t disappoint, when you got enough money and notoriety in this town, they tend not to. He hardly batted an eye when Elvis had mentioned that there were kids out there that were potentially his, though he did give a funny look when Elvis told him he actually wanted him to dig up proof that he was the father, which is apparently rather novel in this town.

Though what the PI brings back is painful in its own way. He mostly focused on what could be dug up through paper records both legally and illegally obtained: house deeds, birth certificates, medical records, wills etc.

That’s how he finally learns the names of his children.

Alejandro and Mireya.

Big names for babies that are so little, he thinks to himself. Only to realize that they will one day grow into them, and he’s wasting time not being with them.

By all accounts, Jimi’s doing just fine: house is paid off, bills get paid on time, food is plenty, and she’s apparently in the market for a nanny. But a deeper look revealed that she’s pissing through her savings right now and with the way things are going she’ll be out of money in maybe another ten years, something she must have realized if she came back to work at all. Elvis finds himself exasperated that her stubbornness will cause her and the little ones to sink before she ever thinks to ask for help.

But it's the few and far between snapshots of the little family that threaten to do Elvis in. He has to fight the urge to frame them as they are all so wonderfully domestic. Strolls through the park, trips to ice cream shop, stops at the grocery store, and everything else that would paint the perfect family portrait of a young, beautiful mother and her two adorable babies.

Everything except for a father.

Though some of the most painful ones to look at were the ones from her day at the beach with them. He can almost pretend that he is the one behind the camera, that he took these pictures of her and the little ones on a family outing and not in fact a shameless voyeur of the life that should by all rights be his. In one of them, they were facing the camera as they looked out to the vast ocean before them, Jimi crouched down by the shore line as she held their little hands so they could properly get their feet wet. She wears a wrap around her one piece bathing suit in a facsimile of modesty and he already knows she turned a few heads that day. Little Alejandro is wearing a swim ring and practically wrapped around Jimi’s leg while Mireya’s wearing little floaties and pulling on her mama’s hand to try to go deeper.

So wholesome and idyllic, he can practically picture the entire day in his head.

How he would come up behind her and swing them back and forth on the shore line as though he were about to toss them in while they squealed in delight.

How he would play with them in the sand until she insisted on them taking a nap under the umbrella while their parents could have a breather to have lunch.

How she would lay beside them and from his position he could shamelessly leer at their mothers figure.

How the day would knock them out on the car ride home and they would both quietly bring the little ones in the house and place them in their cribs and how she would wrap herself around his arm as they both gazed down at the two little miracles before them.

How he would bend her over right outside the hallway and fuck her raw so that they would never have a day at the beach without babies.

If that wasn't what Norman Rockwell pictured for the ideal family life, he doesn’t know what is.

Those last few weeks of shooting, he could hardly function knowing they were all out there, the few who knew what he was going through were unsure how to approach him. Some learned quickly that he wasn’t about to be questioned on this, others had to learn the hard way.

After the last day of shooting, Elvis would only idly register the fact that he had been sitting on a lounge chair staring vacantly at the pool. He hadn’t meant to, he just remembers after breakfast wondering how he’ll probably teach them how to swim there, and then all of a sudden the sun had already set for the day.

His buddies had apparently gotten so worried, they had ended up calling in reinforcements.

“Now my boy,” a familiar voice would say behind him. “I hear we been losin’ focus lately.”

As though on reflex Elvis feels his jaw clench in distaste. In a way the colonel was the best and worst choice to be the one to come talk to him. The worst because after learning what he knows, he wants little to do with the man anymore and the best because he needs someone to take out all this anger on before he can see the mother of his children again.

So Elvis really has to put all of his acting abilities to work at this moment, as he plasters on a phony grin and grits the teeth he’s liable to start gnashing at any moment. “I reckon I been more focused now than I been in a long time, Colonel.”

Bypassing what he just said, the man sits down on the lounge chair right next to him. “That’s not what I been hearin’ ‘from your buddies.” Elvis can see he has the clown head cane, which he adds to the list of things he’s finding infuriating about the man.

“And what they been sayin’?”

“How an old flame reared her head recently and has been getting in your head with some foolish notions of slowing down now of all times,” he says. “My boy, I warned you ‘bout women like this before. They can’t appreciate the hard work we been doin’ to make this life here, and simply will take from men ike us.”

As sour of a taste as that statement leaves in his mouth, that at the very least confirms that Parker doesn’t know dogshit about the sitation. He’s reminded of that time how she complained she never has time to take a cigarette break or something will catch on fire. Something that was proven true only moments after she put one in her mouth and then ten men were screaming fire. She would casually stroll up to it, extinguisher in hand, and use the inferno from the stagelight to light her cigarette before putting it out.

“You don’t gotta worry no more, my boy,” he starts patting around his jacket, only to pull out two cigars and a set of matches. This and the story gives him an idea as to how to prove his own convictions.

“Why’s that Colonel?” Suspecting what he’s getting at, but willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I had a word with the young lady you were so fond of back in New Orleans,” he started, every word of his making Elvis want to scratch his own skin off. “And rest assured we came to an agreement after a few words from yours truly,” he says as though that will somehow placate him. “She wants nothing more than for us to leave her and her little ones alone, and of course we can accommodate that,” he lights up a celebratory cigar and hands his client one as well as though they were in some anti stork club.

He once made the mistake of calling the Colonel something of a father figure to him, and he’s never been more disgusted with himself than right now. But he stays silent as he lets the “Colonel” before him dig his own grave.

“Trust me son, I get the urge to want to settle down,” he reassures him. “But you’re young and it ain’t like you don’t got all the options in the world. Next time ‘round you can have some babies with a proper American girl”

The Colonel doesn’t know it yet, but this statement truly solidifies his fate.

He doesn’t get it. None of these assholes get it. How can they? They ain’t ever lost someone like he did, like she did. They can’t see the value of family because they think that he can just make more of them with someone else? As though forces of a higher power hadn’t gone out of their way to bring them together.

Elvis can do nothing more than kiss his teeth at the older man’s ignorance, as he slowly but deliberately grabs the cigar from his mouth and looks him dead in the eye as he slowly stamps out the cigar on the unvarnished wooden side table.

Jimi was right. Words are nothing at the end of the day and it’ll be actions that will show them all how fucking serious he is about this.

“Those are my babies, and she’s my girl. And I ain’t gonna hear nothin’ more ‘bout it.” Elvis gets the pleasure of watching the Colonel gape like a fish only to then go red in the face as he goes back and forth between him and the small flames that are now beginning to dance on the table. He cuts him off before he can get another word in edgewise. “‘Sides I think marryin’ her would do wonders for my reputation down south.”

The portly man is surprised by his clients words and tries to quickly recover from the shock. “Son, I-I don’t think there’s notin’ down there we need to worry ‘bout,” he scolds as though Elvis were a child, trying desperately to reign him in.

“I used to think the same thing, ‘till I hired that PI to look into Jimi…” Elvis starts as he cuts the cigar, not even bothering to acknowledge the man’s concerns, “... and a few other things.”

“...what other things?”

“Funny you mention that Colonel. I had him look into where the hell those quotes came from. Y’know the ones that got me banned from Mexico. And boy did he have a story to tell,” his words are comically gleeful as he brings the cigar to his mouth. “One with high up there politicians, birthday parties, and blank checks. A story… my manager apparently knew all too well, but ain’t ever bothered to tell me.”

The only thing that could be heard in the moment was the light crackling from the flames between the two of them, and from it’s light Elvis can see the way that the sweat seems to pour off of the man in front of him. They both know that it has nothing to do with the fire.

“So-son, this is… it’s-it’s more complicated than you think,” Parker stutters, trying to desperately wrench back control of the situation. But Elvis already knows that the next chance he gets, he’s gonna cut ties with him… but Parker certainly doesn’t. And so for the time being he still has a role to play in this production.

“Now there’s two ways to take this,” Elvis says leaning back on the wicker chair as the flames begin to get higher and higher, attracting the attention of his boys outside, and they rush to try to do something about it. One single hand gesture from him has them all frozen in place, awaiting his command.

Good, these motherfuckers needed to be reminded who exactly is in charge here, even if he had to burn this whole place to the ground.

“One, a simple mistake that my manager made and will now do anythin’ to fix if he wants even a chance at his contract bein’ renewed pretty soon… or two…” he brings the still unlit cigar to the now three foot flames on the table beside him, the closest thing he’s done to acknowledge them. He even briefly blows out the flame on his cigar, really trying to draw it out, enjoying the way it makes the older man squirm in his seat. It’s only right considering how much grief he caused trying to hide his secret so long. But if Jimi had taught him anything about Hollywood, is that shit like this don’t stay buried forever. “My manager for some reason can’t leave the country and didn’t want me leavin’ it neither.”

It's an interesting experience to watch a man go from red in the face to completely white in horror. He opens and closes his mouth in disbelief more than a few times as though god himself will put the words in his mouth to smooth over this misstep. Any doubts Elvis had about the PI’s story melted away with each little tick the man before him made.

Jimi had taught him what makes for a good and bad actor, and boy oh boy did Parker make for a shitty one: the shifty beady eyes, the nervous tapping on his cane, the constant swallowing and clearing of his throat.

“So Colonel,” he states with a smoky breath, and no amount of venom missing from his voice for the man that- albeit unintentionally- cost him so much time with his family. “What’s it gonna be?”

The flames are by now as tall as a full grown man, and the fire has now fully engulfed the low table that was once there. All the boys are nervously shifting and shuffling about, wanting to put it out before it can get out of hand, but the hand that Elvis holds toward them keeps them in place, not a single one of them willing to go against him.

The message is clear to everyone though: give him what he wants or he will burn them all, and not just metaphorically.

“I-I,” the old man stutters looking down at his feet undoubtedly looking for help even from Hades himself, only to see as an ember finds a new home on his lone client’s pant leg.

Elvis does not acknowledge this.

Parker looks back up at him, only now comprehending who the hell he is dealing with.

“I’ll see what I can do my boy,” he finally answers breathlessly.

“Now that’s what I like to hear, Parker,” he gives an amiable clap to his shoulder before gesturing to the rest to take care of the inferno before them. They’re all in a dead sprint to deal with the fire and Elvis gives his foot a cursory dip in the pool to extinguish the flames creeping up his ankle, before walking away without another word to any of them.

With the Colonel and everyone else willing to do anything to get back in his good graces, things seem to run a lot smoother now.

Finding a lawyer willing to handle paternity suits is easy enough in this town, finding one that is willing to fight to establish his status as their father however… practically every lawyer that was consulted said it was near impossible for them to do so without the mother’s consent. Without even knowing who exactly they were meant to be representing they said the whole thing would be a wash if at the end of the day the mother remains obstinate against it, and regardless of any blood tests, no judge would believe that a woman would willingly say no to the support a man like Elvis could offer if it wasn’t the absolute truth that he wasn’t the father.

Needless to say that Elvis could only rely on the legal route so much. Though he did learn a few interesting things as to what would happen to children if the mother is deemed unfit.

And from there, he begins to cook up a truly awful and perhaps downright evil plan but he knows that the prize is worth the risk.

It’s gonna rely on all of his skills as an actor, and she’s been in the business too long to not know an act when she sees one. But he has one major advantage over Jimi in this department: She already expects the worst from him, so him doing this wouldn’t be a stretch in her eyes.

Even threatening to dig a little deeper into whether or not they were his, made her pull back even more, she’s not gonna make this easy for him, and part of him doubts he would want it to be so. He knows he’s not without options, and that women would practically tear down the door to be the one to give him babies.

But how can he just let her go?

Jesse couldn’t be here with him, that’s why he sent her his way. Elvis needed someone who would look out for him no matter what. And with Elena gone, Jimi needed someone to look out for. The two of them fit together like puzzle pieces really.

So he has to be smart about this. Nothing gradual because she will bolt the second she even gets a hint as to what he’s planning. So he takes a step back and allows the PI to learn all he can about her new schedule and what she’s got in the works.

She’s still working for Paramount, though only barely, as she now apparently only comes in once a week to talk with directors and drop off designs. Though it’s clear this is not for much longer as she’s apparently been tapped by some production company down in Mexico to come work for their wardrobe department.

It becomes apparent that he needs to work quickly if he wants to pull off his plan, when his request to have her work on his next movie is denied for the simple fact that she is apparently only sticking around Paramount long enough to finish off a few other productions. He’s honestly a little glad for this change, it just means he can put his plan to action a little earlier and they can be together sooner.

So it’s not even a week after the end of production does he find himself standing in front of her small, new house in East LA.

Elvis knows his influence on women, and despite what the papers say, he’s tried to use this for good. So when he walks up to Jimi’s door and knock, he does admittedly ham it up with the hand to lean on the door frame and the slightly unkempt hair falling over his forehead, a look he knows would make any woman weak in the knees. Especially a 13 year old babysitter.

The girl (Letty, he’s pretty sure the PI said), seems to be confused more than anything else, uncomprehending as to who stands before her. She’s far from the first or last to have this reaction but it shows that Jimi is playing her cards far too close to her chest that she wouldn’t know why he’s here.

“This here’s Jimena’s place?” He asks though he already knows the answer from the PI that’s getting paid hourly.

“Ye-yes,” she stutters, reaching a hand out only to quickly snatch it back as she confirmed he was really here.

“Perfect,” he grins, and he sees her look down bashfully. “I’m here to pick up the babies.”

This confuses the poor girl even more. “She… didn’t mention that.” Elvis has to hold himself back from telling her she couldn’t keep a father away from his children, but honeys and flies and all that.

“It’s a bit of a surprise for her.” He answers.

She’s still apparently unsure of herself, as she gives a weak point back inside the house as she says,“I-I think I sh-should ma-maybe call her.”

“How much you gettin’ paid by her?” he asks affably, though a little annoyed at the girl continuing to keep him from his babies.

“Five dollars a day and an autographed picture of Marlon Brando,” she answers, though she looks back down at her feet, as though embarrassed to be talking about another star she preferred in front of him. He doesn’t take it to heart, remembering Jimi complaining how she had more autographs than she knew what to do with.

“How ‘bout this,” he pulls out his wallet. “I’ll give you 50 and get you a personal meeting with Marlon, if you get the lil’ ones ready to come with me for the day and don’t say nothin’ to no one ‘bout whatcha saw today.”

The teen gapes like a fish at the offer and though Elvis knows it’s good for his plan that she didn’t automatically refuse his proposition, it is nonetheless disheartening that this is the girl Jimi had entrusted his babies to.

“I-I-I,” she looks at her feet, as though they’ll have the answers for the dilemma. “I don’t think I can let them g-go with a stranger.” she puts a bit more of her weight onto the door fully intending to close it.

“That’s the best part kid,” he pressed a palm to the door. “I ain’t a stranger to her.” The girl has no idea what kind of danger she’s in, and Elvis attributes that almost solely to Jimi’s influence. What’s a few lies when he knows he would do far worse if she dares to keep him away from his children any longer.

“Don’t let them papers know this,” he says in a conspiratorial whisper, full well-knowing that’s exactly who she’s gonna go straight to the moment she gets the chance to do so. “Y’see their mama and I… well we been seein’ each other for awhile, and now stubborn women she is, she don’t wanna go no further ‘til I can prove I’m ‘father material’ so I came down here to prove her wrong.”

She furrows her brow in confusion until her eyes go wide. “Wait… go further? As in…”

He takes a page out of Jimi’s book and gives a pursed grin while his eyes slide away from her, not even trying to deny her assumptions. Seeing her hold a hand to her mouth to cover her dramatic gasp, Elvis would like to think Jimi would be proud as to see how far his acting abilities have come.

The girl is apparently all too eager to play cupid as she quickly invites him in with a big grin on her face and ushers him towards a sitting room. Despite how cool he’s playing it he’s a nervous wreck on the inside, feeling like he’s about to walk into a test he knew he didn’t study well enough for.

But that all disappears the moment he lays eyes on them.

They can already do so much, he thinks as he watches them play though they don’t notice him, Mireya holding a whole baby conversation with her stuffed animals in between trying to feed them dry cheerios while Alejandro is making little humming noises around the pacifier in his mouth as he crawls to drive his little fire truck around. Eventually the tiny boy drove the toy straight into Elvis’ foot.

The small boy looks up at the new figure, and with the way he looks at him, Elvis doubts he remembers him. So he tries not to take it too personally when the boy silently gets up and scrambles behind one of the couches, only to then peek over the corner, as though to make sure he’s still there.

“Ale, Mimi, come say hi,” the young teen says in a soft voice before she turns around and leaves him alone with them. Those names feel much more fitting of the small babies he’s pictured in his head, and even more fitting as he leans against the door frame of the little sitting room.

Mimi almost immediately begins to toddle over to him with a little stuffed doggy tucked underneath her arm. She looks at him and again there is not an ounce of recognition in her eyes as she merely approaches him wraps her arms around one of his shins before immediately going back to her toys.

So much for the instant connection he was hoping to have with them, but he tries not to get too discouraged with this as he approaches. He crouches down next to his daughter and picks up a stuffed monkey and uses it to tickle her neck a little, and that has her shrieking in delight.

This does seem to settle Ale somewhat as he slowly comes from behind the couch to watch the two of them. Though he plops down right between them with his engine in tow and gives a wary look toward Elvis as though he means to act as her protector. He didn’t know it was possible to have a skeptical look while sucking on a pacifier, but his son somehow manages to do just that.

Elvis notices something in the boy's front overall pocket and when he reaches a hand to investigate it, his son is quick to react with an overhead swat to the intruding hand. Elvis can’t help but laugh at how very Jimi that reaction is.

Before he knows it the bags are all packed and it’s time to go. Ale looks more confused than scared as Elvis picks him up with his wide brown eyes, while Mimi on the other hand is in awe of being so high up and she immediately starts trying to reach for things that he thinks would usually be out of reach when held by her mama.

In the last few days he’s had ample time to imagine what exactly it would feel like to hold them in his arms, but all of it pales in comparison to the phenomena of the experience. Elvis is a man that has dabbled in many pleasures over the years yet all of that pales in comparison to just the utter rightness of this moment.

It’s an indescribable, euphoric feeling that makes him never want to let go of either of them, even if one is seeming indifferent to him while the other tries to squirm out of his grasp.

He had been prepared to sneak out the back with them or pass them out the window to Jerry before sneaking to the car, hell he contemplated that he would even have to simply grab them and run. He never in a million years would’ve imagined it was as easy as scooping them both up in his arms and taking a brisk walk out the front door to the car while the babysitter hands over a baby bag to him.

The fact that it was so easy was just further proof that he needed to get them out of there. What if it had been some crazy man that came in today and not him that took them?

“E.P. What the fuck?” Jerry asks, more tired than confused.

“Let’s get goin’ already.”

The car ride gives him some time to truly appreciate how beautiful his babies are.

Mimi has Jimi’s thick dark hair and her pouty lips, and those coupled with the cornflower blue gaze that came from him, he can already hear the heart's (and the kneecaps, Elvis will personally see to it) breaking across the country. And where Ale seems almost his exact copy, he can see Jimena’s touches here and there with the way his hair curls or the slight upturn of his nose. Truly it would be a crime to deprive the world of more pretty children like these two.

Mimi in turn seems to also be fascinated by his face, and he takes a few playful nibbles that has her squealing in delight. Though she does lose a bit of interest in him as the car starts and she gets to see the world around her rush past her. She makes sure to point out every animal she sees whether it be a dog, a cat, or even a squirrel, and Elvis finds himself enjoying every moment of it as it feels like he’s looking at this whole city through a new lens.

“Mida, mida,” she squeals in her tiny voice as she points to a bird. “pajado!”

Ale on the other hand is just looking up at him owl-eyed, too in shock as to what’s going on around to look at anything but at his father. He clutches on to his little firetruck like a shield still unsure of this whole thing but Elvis takes it as a small victory that he isn’t balling his eyes out. Elvis resorts to trying to make faces at him to get him to crack even a little though it becomes apparent that what this kid lacks in looks from his mother, he more than makes up for by having her personality, as he barely twitches at any face. Granted it is hard to tell around the pacifier he refuses to part with.

Jerry remains blessedly quiet for the rest of the car trip though Elvis doesn’t miss the occasional stolen glance from his young friend. The man -boy, really- had initially been on the side of letting sleeping dogs lie, and now Elvis pushes down the petty urge to hold up his own son to his face and have him try to deny his own image.

Elvis’ living room could honestly give Santa's workshop a run for his money with the sheer amount of toys and playthings that occupy it now. All his boys had apparently been working overtime trying to make Elvis forget how skeptical they had been in his beliefs, and trying to worm their way back into his good graces.

His daughter practically dives headfirst into the large pile of stuffed animals to be had, meanwhile his son stands in the middle of a treasure trove of toys, his red engine hanging limply from his hand, practically overwhelmed by choice. He eventually does settle on a set of blocks that he takes to stacking up only to ram his truck into the makeshift tower. Elvis can’t help the chest swelling contentment he feels in that moment seeing his babies love their new home so much.

He hardly sees anybody else all day, and he’s glad for it. He didn’t want any of them sticking around too long, as this was his chance to bond with his babies properly, and he didn’t need any of them to distract them. Aside from the occasional maid coming in to bring snacks or to change a dirty diaper, he gets an entire uninterrupted afternoon with the two.

Mimi was so eager to play with him and show him all of her little toys, with her favorites being the little stuffed dog she hadn’t let go of, it’s neck floppy as she clutched it in her tiny baby hand.

Ale thinks he’s subtle as he eyeballs Elvis most of the afternoon. He is not. He all but gapes at him when he thinks he’s not looking, only to turn around and try his darndest to look very busy with his blocks or cars when Elvis looks over to him.

He tries to approach the toddler, only for the boy to rebuff him each and every time by shuffling to the opposite end of the room, and setting up shop there. Elvis has to remind himself to be patient, knowing that his son is handling being in a new strange place with a man he only barely knows better than most kids would so he has to let the boy approach him first.

He could tell just by the way he watched Mimi like a hawk, that he was the older of the two, the same way Jimi always said she was with her sister. His weary attitude towards him only began to thaw out when Mimi stumbled over a block, somewhat able to catch herself on her hands but that doesn’t prevent her from still hitting her little forehead on the carpeted floor. Immediately father and son are at her side to comfort the wailing girl, Elvis crouching down to pick her up and rubbing her back, trying to imitate the few times he’d seen mothers do this, while Ale not fully understanding what’s wrong with her, only to tries to climb his father to try to take the girl in his own little arms and rest his head on her back.

After a few more tears and she had been allowed to thoroughly ruin his shirt, Mimi was able to calm down and go back to playing as usual. Ale seems to only then realize that he had gotten close to his father, and nothing bad had happened, so blessedly he doesn’t seem entirely too opposed to his presence anymore.

The only major hiccup of the entire evening was when Ale had entrusted Elvis with his most treasured toy. Elvis almost burst into tears when his son had reached into the front pocket of his overalls to pull out a small matchbox car, one that appeared to have been red at one point but had since faded into a light pink.

This coupled with Mimi’s favorite stuffed toy being a stuffed beagle… Elvis is not one to just name anything as signs from God, but those two together had to mean something.

And it’s frustrating to say the least that Jimi refuses to see this.

The twins begin to wind down around the evening, with full bellies and comfy pajamas on it’s not too long before Mimi practically falls asleep where she was playing, her little bottom in the air as she drooled all over her little blue doggy that now acts as a pillow.

Ale is far more stubborn about the whole thing, refusing to sleep even as he jealously looks over to his sister before stubbornly rubbing at his dark eyes and continuing to play with his toy cars.

“Don’t go down so easy now do ya’ son?” Elvis says as though he’s actually commiserating over his miserable sleep with a friend and not his toddler son. “You get that from me,” The boy at the very least now tolerates him being so close, but Elvis isn’t going to try to push it by picking him up. Instead he would gently pick up his daughter and hold her in one arm, while offering the other to his son, a clear invitation to the boy.

In spite of all his mulishness, Ale does eventually give in and makes little grabby hands signaling he wants to be picked up, and Elvis does admittedly melt a little at the sight. He’s quick to accept the invitation and picks the little boy up and takes them upstairs.

The nursery room as of right now is pretty barebones, having had to rearrange many things in the house, so as to make it a home for his family. But he thinks his boys managed to at least get the essentials with a crib and a rocking chair, and he figures that they can build from there.

The experience of not just holding his children at the same time but of actually getting to do the fatherly thing of singing them to sleep is incomparable to anything he’s ever had the chance to experience. Something so new, yet at the same time feeling like his whole life was leading up to this point. Mimi’s already asleep and he knows better than to wake a sleeping baby, so he sets her down in the crib first before sitting down in the rocking chair with his son in tow. Elvis admittedly doesn’t have a wide knowledge of lullabies, and he briefly panics for a moment until remembering the one he’s performed maybe a dozen times in the last few months.

They call your daddy Big Boots

And Big Boots is his name

It takes a big man to wear big boots

That's your daddy's claim to fame

It feels only appropriate to sing this to his own son, and in a way he’s glad that he performed this before meeting either of them. He doubted he would’ve been able to keep it together singing this to any other child now, knowing they were out there. Much to his relief, Ale eases up a little on his chest, resting his chin on his arms to better look at his father, not so defensive anymore.

Gonna tell you a little secret

You won't believe it's true

Did you know your daddy, Big Boots

Once wore little boots like you

Ale for the first time today removes his pacifier from his mouth and presses his tiny hand to Elvis mouth, seemingly entranced by the music leaving it and unbelieving that this is coming from a man and not a radio.

But where he was barely keeping it together while singing, Elvis can’t help his reaction when Ale lets out a soft little “daaa…”

His throat seems to close up and he has to blink away a few tears, but that doesn’t lessen the grin on his face. “Th-that’s right son,” he breathes, through quivering lips, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’m your daddy.”

Something about that statement seems to settle something in the boy, as he finally puts his head on his chest and his breathing seems to even out. It’s as though he had been the ever vigilant man of the house. But now knowing that his daddy was home, he can finally lay his head down and rest.

Eventually he has to put him down once he sees Mimi start to fuss in her sleep, waving an arm around and grasping for something, but she quickly relaxes once her brother is within her grasp.

Elvis sits to watch them for a time, they’re simply so hypnotic to observe. The way they breathe in tandem and seem to gravitate toward each other, in a world of their own right now. It makes him wistful for the brother he never got to know. But wherever his brother may be right now, he feels joy that he can carry out his will and finally have a whole family once more.

One look out at the sun setting and the clouds rolling outside his windows, he knows it won’t be too long before she arrives. He wants to be able to relax but he knows he won’t be able to until all of his family is under his roof. But he knows her well enough, to know she’ll be home soon.

Finally he sees an unfamiliar pair of headlights shine behind the gates, before coming to a screeching halt and a familiar silhouette stands in front of the lights, to give a futile shake at the front gate. He can imagine she’s yelling to be let in, even muffled through the patter of the rain starting to really come down and the thunder rolling in the distance, he can just barely make out her voice.

He sees Lamar unlock the gate for her, but the moment his guard is let down she takes off running towards the front, which is when Elvis takes this as his cue to start heading down to meet her.

She was in no way prepared for this weather if her near see-through white blouse was anything to go by. Her makeup is running slightly, streaking down her cheeks making it impossible to figure out if it was rain or tears running down her face. All fury and passion, just like he loves her.

She angrily stomps past him, still trying to ignore him only for him to block her with his full body.

“How many times?” she grits out. “How many times must I turn you away?”

“I don’t know darlin’,” he whispers in a just as low voice. “As many times as it takes ‘til you figure out I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“Cut the crap Elvis!” she shouts. “Where are they!?”

He responds with a single finger to his smirking lips. “If you wake ‘em, you gotta put ‘em down again.”

This immediately has her try to run past him towards the bedrooms, but he catches her in one arm over her waist and he sits her on the dining room table, sure to plant his hands on her knees so she doesn’t get any ideas.

“That’s enough Elvis,” she tries to rip his hands away from her. The way she’s all clenched up, lets him know that she would scream at him if it were an option. “You’ve had your fun, now just let us go.”

He just further smirks. “Y’know after all the things I learned ‘bout the last two years for you, I kept askin’ myself one thang,” he says pushing himself off the table to stalk towards her. “‘Why the hell is she still here?’”

Her jaw clenches tight at this, unwilling to meet his eyes. “I had to do what I had to do to support My babies.”

“Considerin’ what my guy dug up,” he starts making his way towards the table that has had her whole life laid out upon it. “You coulda worked anywhere else and left Hollywood behind a long time ago.” The heavy clench of her jaw and the daggers in her eyes tell him he’s getting close to the bullseye. “No,” he says, holding her chin between his fingers. “You stayed cuz you was waitin’ for me to get back.”

This infuriates her and she gives him a good shove, but he’s no longer in the mood to indulge her little tantrum so he stays put.

“Is that what you wanna fucking hear Elvis, then fine! They’re yours!” she shouts, a bit of a tremble in her voice. “Are you happy now? Will it help you sleep better at night knowing they’re yours? ”

“I’ll sleep better knowin’ they’re under my roof.”

She freezes at this admission. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talkin’ ‘bout the fact that you and the little ones are gonna be movin’ in with me.”

The silence that passes is near deafening and he gets the pleasure of seeing the reality of the situation set in in her face. She gives a short mirthless but undoubtedly forced laugh but there’s no denying the fear in her eyes.

Good.

After all, she was the one that wanted this when she wanted so badly to make him a villain in this. He’s not, he’s a father.

“All this time, I thought you were stupid,” she says, that sardonic, slightly scared, laugh still laced in her tone. “Turns out you’re just fucking crazy.” Anybody else he would’ve been offended, but he lets her barbs slide right off his back, because truly words are all that she has left anymore. He’ll let her have them. “In what world do you think this is gonna play out like you want it?”

He gives a soft smile and raises a hand to take her chin, only for her to quickly smack it away.

“The world the studio pays for.”

She gives a derisive snort, “And you think they’re gonna pay for you to ruin your image.”

He simply smirks at her, finding her ignorance cute. For all that she knows how to work the system, he understands how the system works. More importantly he understands that the system works for him. His only direct response is to slide her the papers his people drafted up for him.

“What the fuck are these?” she asks, her voice lower, trying to mask her genuine confusion.

“That there is the copy of the marriage license ‘you’” he uses air quotes, “signed six hours ago, and an officiant from the studio officially signed off on these.”

“I-I don’t understand,” she says, her voice smaller than he’s ever heard from her.

“Now Jimi let me tell you two stories, only one of ‘em’s gonna be in tomorrow’s paper,” he says, gently rubbing her cheek that she quickly slaps away. He retaliates just as swiftly with his hand splayed across her collarbone to lay her back on to the large dining table, just below the neck, not enough to choke her, but just enough to remind her who the fucking man of this house is. “One is how I went and got married to a single-mother of twins and I adopted them as my own.”

“I would neve-”

“Or…” he cuts in as he puts a little more pressure on her neck. “And this one is the one the studio prefers… I marry some random girl they pick out for me and we end up adopting two poor little orphans, ‘cause their mama decided to run off to Mexico in the middle of the night.”

Almost like he planned it, he can hear the thunder roll in the distance as the threat hangs in the air. In his heart he knows he would never go through with this, but Jimi doesn’t have to know.

All the anger drops from her face at that moment, in its place he sees something he’s never seen in her eyes: bold-faced fear. She showed her hand the other day when she told him why she wanted to keep the secret. He didn’t want to have to do this to her, but if it’s between having her fear him and staying with him vs not and her walking away, he will pick fear every single time.

He needs them in his life.

He needs her in his life.

“So you choose darlin’, which ones it gonna be,” he takes her chin between his fingers. She flinches slightly but knows she’s in no position to turn away from him now. “Either way… they’re comin’ with me.”

Elvis is not a gambling man, and he wouldn’t do this unless he knew what her answer was gonna be. She’s just as crazy for family as he is, she wouldn’t be able to handle not being able to have them. She’s probably the only one who is capable of understanding what he would do for those two as he has no doubt that she wouldn’t do the same in his shoes.

But between the two of them, only one of them had an entire studio willing to do whatever it takes to protect his image, no matter the expense.

And for all her worldliness and experience, she knows full well what happens when you get on the wrong side of the studios. She spent the better part of two years trying to prevent them from learning this, because making her disappear and having her babies get lost in the system would have been nothing to them.

He’s proud of her ability to successfully keep her and their babies alive in his absence, but he’s over her needlessly defiant nature to insist that they’ll never need him again.

He wouldn’t say he’s proud to see that defeated look in her eyes, but he does get the sense of relief knowing that he’s not going to lose anymore family today.

“Let me see them,” she whispers, barely audible over the rainfall just outside the window. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and he’s practically giddy that she didn’t try to stop him.

He finds them just where he left them, sleeping soundly knowing that their father is here to protect them, even from their mothers stubbornness. Ale is spread out like a starfish, one foot continually nudging his sister, while one hand is tightly balled up and a thumb in his mouth. Mimi on the other hand is squirming a bit, her little sock covered feet restlessly kicking at the blanket and her brow furrowed in her sleep. On pure instinct alone Elvis rubs a soothing hand on her belly until she’s calmed down enough and he quickly tucks her back in.

The look of surprise on her face wasn’t part of the plan but is welcome nonetheless. “Y’see how important a daddy is sweetheart?” he whispers into her ear.

He doesn’t exactly love the tears now freely falling out of her eyes, but he

“I’ll stay,” she whispers, through her tears. “I’m staying for them.” She asserts but the words feel so hollow now. Even still he rewards her acquiescence with a kiss, more for himself and having been so patient for her.

Even with her promises to stay now he knows that this is far from over. He knows that the next time she has them both in her arms is gonna be the next time she makes a break for it. He’s already let everybody know to never leave her alone with them, and he’s got some things in the works to make sure to make her face as recognizable as his own so she doesn’t get any ideas of trying to disappear. He’s even got a hail mary plan in his back pocket to deal with that doctor just in case he ever needs something big to keep her at his side.

But one thing he can absolutely do right now is work to get another baby in her so running won’t be so easy next time. A message she gets loud and clear the moment he works the zipper of her skirt down the mouth-watering curve of her ass.

“Elvis please,” she half-heartedly bats away his hands. “Not tonight…”

He’s been on a winning streak of getting exactly what he wants lately, and he’s not about to let her break that. He backs her against the wall of the hallway only to then nestle himself between her legs.

“C’mon baby,” he whispers in her ear, and he’s glad he can still get that same shuddering reaction from her, he remembers all too well. “It’s our weddin’ night and we gotta get to work makin’ it all official. ‘Sides you owe me more babies for keepin’ ‘em away so long.”

He can’t help but be reminded of that beach fantasy he had not too long ago and while he would love to make that into a reality, he figures that he at the very least owes her more than a dirty quickie in the hallway for their wedding night.

Besides, they'll have all the time for that in Hawaii.

So instead he opts for the classic groom move of lifting her up in his arms and carrying her into his -now their- bedroom. He doesn’t care none to be gentle with her clothes, she’ll be lucky if he cares to be gentle with her tonight after all the shit she’s put him through.

Ever the contrarian, she obstinately looks out the window and looks as though she wishes to be anywhere else right now as he peels the wet clothes off of her body. He’s been half-hard since she walked through his door, but little Elvis stands at full attention now that he can behold his wife fully. He finds the cosmetic differences that having his children has caused her body, with the near invisible stripes he feels on her belly and her temptingly darker nipples, but what he sees first and foremost in her body is his future.

That world-shattering knowledge that she will be where all of his seed is planted and he will never have to suffer being alone again. He has to push these thoughts aside lest he spill all over her belly like a green boy, and he has to remind himself that there’s no need to rush anymore now that he has her beneath him.

He has to temper himself before he gets ahead of himself so he spreads her legs to dive head first for her pussy.

He knows he has her when a simple kiss to her clit has her clenching her thighs over his ears. While it’s with reluctant acceptance does he acknowledge he wasn’t her first, he takes great pleasure knowing that he’ll be her last. It was frankly insane to believe that no one had ever done this to her before, as after he had gotten his first taste of her there was little else he wanted to do more than this.

He remembers joking with her that he now understood where her womanly sweetness went given the lack of it in her personality. It’s true nonetheless, arguably she tastes even better than he remembers. Though he imagines it’s the same way a man dying of thirst calling his first sip of water the sweetest taste, considering how much he’s pined for her.

Now that he’s been able to ensure she’s sufficiently wet enough he lets her hips fall back on to the bed, as he unbuckles himself, unwilling to waste another moment to undress himself, so that he can once more feel that connection he almost lost.

Finally being able to slip into her feels like finally coming home, there’s truly no other way to describe it. He didn’t even get this feeling when he walked through the threshold of Graceland.

“Elvis,” she sobs into his shoulder. For all the love she claims to have lost for him, her body has certainly not forgotten as he feels her thighs clench tightly around his hips, trying to keep him as close as possible.

He quickly grabs a hold of the back of her knees and he forces them all the way back practically to her ribs. Her pleasured and shocked cries ring out though the room as her new position gives him a new angle to work with. He’s a man on a mission to ensure that he leaves a mark so deep that she’ll never be able to leave again.

Forever, and just that thought alone has him frantically bucking into her over and over ripping her away from one orgasm to yet another as he chases his peak. One of the many he would have in that night alone, to try to make up for all the lost time.

Once it’s all said and done and he’s sufficiently satisfied that her sleepiness isn’t being feigned, he carries her back to the bed properly so that she can rest and be ready to be the perfect mother for their two (hopefully more) little ones tomorrow. He wraps an arm around her, knowing how slippery she can be, and he rests easy knowing she’ll be there come morning.

Taglist

@venus-haze @djsjs13949 @ilovehobi101 @butlerslut @richardslady121 @giabelia @sydneyyyya @meetme0614 @tacozebra051 @myradiaz @thelifes-world @maythesunshineagain @rakitirakiti @lostteenagetale

@j-v-9-2 @eliseinmemphis @dkayfixates @immi547 @thatbanditqueen @marriedtoeddie @cuteejeno @itlover8000 @isthlsfate @mgparker @thatbanditqueen @softsatnin @literally-just-elvis-fics @adaydreamaway08 @airyx0x0 @domoron @artlover8992 @divxnee

#elvis #elvis 2022 #elvis x reader #yandere!elvis x reader #austin!elvis #austin butler #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere!elvis #yandere elvis #elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis x oc #latin!reader #latina!oc #latina!reader #yandere!austin!elvis #yandere pov

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makeste · 5 months

Text

BnHA Chapter 409: Bro I’m Straight Up Having a Good Time

Previously on BnHA: AFO murdered his brother like the mischievous knave he is. Bruce was all, “hey Kudou don’t look now but I think Yoichi might have given you his secret quirk that we didn’t know he had.” Kudou was all, “damn that’s wild, it almost feels like this is a pivotal moment that will change all our destinies forever, you’d think Horikoshi would have spent just a little more time elaborating on this but I GUESS NOT.” Back in the present day, AFO was all, “I’m just going to use all my quirks at once because fuck this kid,” and Katsuki was all, “lol oh shit.”

Today on BnHA: Kacchan is all, “okay, I know I should be hopelessly outclassed, but hear me out: what if I just win anyway. What if I just go ahead and blow his shit up, because this is the final battle, and this is what all of my character development has been building up to since day one. What if I just beat him, because I’m the guy who wins. Simple as that. What if I just kick his ass with my one quirk, and prove all the haters wrong.” Horikoshi is all, “okay, sure.” AFO is all, “wait, wha -- ”

oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my g

huh. well I wasn’t expecting to start tearing up less than two panels into this chapter but HERE WE ARE

I love that he’s screaming and crying with his balled up little fist right from the get go lol. he was born a pissed off baby

he’s so squishy

and so tiny!!!!?!?! !?!??!?!

and he was RAISED WITH LOVE. fucking thank you, lol. gonna print that out and frame it on my wall. turn it into a flashing neon sign to give me comfort any time I stumble across stray Mitsuki discourse lol

anyway. oh my goodness. if this is a sign of things to come, there’s a very strong possibility this chapter may destroy me. how exciting!!

yep. yep yep yep. this is for sure going to be the chapter that finally does me in. it’s been a great ride folks

you better not be thinking any thoughts about dying, young man. this had better be meant in the sense of “because I’ll be by your side supporting you instead”, as opposed to “because I will be a little pile of dust in about three seconds’ time oh shit”

(ETA: after finishing the rest of the chapter, I’m pretty sure it’s the former! the first flashback is a reference to his chapter 120 speech -- “even higher than you, Chosen One.” the second is a throwback to chapter 247, when he told Endeavor he only had his one quirk, but it was strong enough to do anything he wanted to do. and the third flashback is one he also had at Jakku when he sacrificed himself to push Izuku out of the way.

so to me, this reads like (1) a reminder of his determination to surpass Izuku and become the strongest hero; (2) foreshadowing for him defeating AFO with Explosion, the Little Quirk That Could; and (3) a reminder of his “origin.” that last one being important because nowadays it’s just as strong of a motivator as his original goal. back at the beginning of the series, all he cared about was being the strongest. now, though, he’s not just fighting for himself; he’s also fighting to atone, and he’s learned to put himself aside if necessary.

as for the dialogue, this reads like a continuation of his mental conversation with Izuku that he began in chapter 362 (“gotta win... right, Izuku?” “so, Izuku... can I still catch up to you?”), and then continued in chapter 406 (“for some reason, I feel like I could overtake you now”). so in that context, “I’ll no longer get in your way” basically means that he’s done chasing Izuku, and that he’s caught up now and can hold his own. his determination to get stronger hasn’t wavered. his confidence in his own quirk and his own skills hasn’t wavered. and his resolve to atone for everything he did to Izuku is as strong as ever. put those all together, and we have the recipe for quite a spectacular redemption fight. his follow-up to chapter 362.

because earlier when he fought Tomura/AFO, he was basically just trying to buy time. no one ever planned or expected him to have to face the Big Bad one-on-one; that was supposed to be Izuku’s job. he was only meant to be there as support. and in the end he wasn’t strong enough, and he nearly died. and rather than being able to support Izuku, he ended up being used against him.

but this time is different. he’s no longer the decoy, the distraction. he’s no longer the pebble. he won’t get in Izuku’s way, because this time he’s going to be strong enough to win the fight. he’s going to hold his own, and get the job done.

so yeah. “I won’t get in your way” = “you can depend on me”, basically. because he’s become that guy at last. the guy who shows up in the clutch and wins the day. the hero he always wanted to be. good stuff.)

OH MY GOD

once again, just really solid hero advice from All Might here. there’s a reason he’s the GOAT

lol but in all seriousness it does tug at my heart to see him shouting so desperately at this kid. especially knowing that he’s presumably feeling the same pride and awe that I am, but with a lot more heart-stopping terror mixed in because unlike me, All Might doesn’t know that Kacchan is actually going to live forever. he narrated chapter 285, All Might, have a little faith

AFO is the extra-est mfer to ever live. but also it really tickles me to think that Kacchan pissed him off THIS much. it’s kind of an honor in a way

of course his plan is to simply just blow AFO up. of fucking COURSE it is. maybe there will be brain cells later on in this chapter, but for now who even needs them lol

OH MY GOD?!?

DID THIS MOTHERFUCKER JUST BLOW THE FUCK UP FROM THE INSIDE?? am I seeing this right?? DID KACCHAN JUST SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST ALL FOR ONE WITH HIS MIND

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

(ETA: shoutout to AFO for being so analytical when I personally would have just been screaming, “OH MY GOD MY FUCKING EYEBALLS AHHHHHHHHHH.”)

THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING THOUGH!! HIS POWER WASN’T DONE AWAKENING YET, APPARENTLY??

oh no wait it’s even better. this isn’t Awakening at all, this is just Katsuki playing 5D chess

so he actually did have brain cells the whole time then! Katsuki I sincerely apologize. you somehow had the presence of mind to make a goddamn minefield even in the midst of all of this hullaballoo

AND HE’S HUMBLE TOO LMAO

it’s true!! I’m people!! please ignore the multitude of times I’ve previously called him a dumbass, including earlier in this very chapter lol

hahahahaha yesssssssss

this chapter is incredibly validating for a number of reasons. I’m going to attempt to remain calm about it. but I’m enjoying this a lot ngl

oh AFO

:D :D :D

(ETA: you know what, I actually do have more to say about this. because I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve debated with people about this very thing, lol. for a while there post-Jakku it was just constant pessimism about Kacchan’s future in the manga. all this stuff about how Katsuki doesn’t have a main villain. Katsuki isn’t important enough. Katsuki is being phased out. Katsuki isn’t strong enough. Katsuki’s done developing. Katsuki’s just a joke character now. Katsuki’s just the damsel in distress. Katsuki’s always going to be second fiddle to Izuku. etc. etc. etc.

and then this chapter -- this whole entire fight, really -- comes along, and it’s just nonstop rebuttals, lol. and it’s not just that he’s proving all the negativity wrong. it’s that he doesn’t even care about any of that. AFO is out here trying to goad him with that same “YOU’RE JUST A SIDE CHARACTER” bait, and in response Katsuki just hits him with a Howitzer and tells him to shut the fuck up. AFO thinks he can get to him by being petty, because AFO still sees him as the bratty kid from the Sports Festival. but the present day Katsuki has long since moved past all of that, and no longer gives a fuck whether or not he shares the spotlight. unlike AFO, who never lost his childish egotism, Katsuki has learned to see outside himself, and the resulting growth has made him a bigger badass than AFO could ever hope to be.)

(۶•̀ᴗ•́)۶

ouch

HAHAHAHAHA

bro I’m straight up having a good time. this recap is gonna suck this week because there’s absolutely no commentary I can think of to add other than “I’M REALLY ENJOYING THIS, THIS IS GREAT”

I want to take this entire chapter and get it tattooed on my face

sorry AFO. this must really suck for you

lmao. is that all Kacchan. tell him how you really feel

OH MY GOD NO WAY LOL

so, fun fact, I literally just read chapter 385 last night lmao. most fortunate timing I’ve ever had, holy shit

okay so lemme just add some more thoughts on this one really quick

Hawks deserves all the nice things in the world and I’m so sad I can’t give them to him, but at least he gets this. sweet sassy revenge

I am once again calling everyone’s attention to the fact that AFO continues to be his own undoing. congrats on screwing yourself over bucko

Kacchan’s sleeve ripping up Deku-style is once again making my Plus OFA Theory senses all tingly. it probably is just a coincidence and has nothing to do with OFA, but I can’t unassociate it now, so I’m just gonna sit here and read as much into it as possible

if I had a nickel for every time AFO’s eyes blew up in this chapter, I would have two nickels, and that is way too many fucking nickels jesus christ

ever since he came back from the dead, Kacchan’s been doing this thing where he is just really pretty at all times, even when he is being a gremlin. and honestly it’s taken some getting used to, although I’m not complaining

but like in this panel especially, it just really stands out to me how even his “GRYAHHH I’M GONNA KILL YA!!!” face somehow has this really cool, intense, piercing glare now and he no longer looks like a baby troll when he does this kind of thing lol

OH FUCK YEAH

୧༼✿ ͡◕ д ◕͡ ༽୨

“THERE’S NO WAY I COULD’VE WON THIS ALONE.” OMG. THAT KACCHAN CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT JUST HITS DIFFERENT EVERY DAMN TIME, I SWEAR

he and Hawks basically pulled a “you hold him and I’ll punch” lol. thanks for the assist Hawks

Mitsuki and Masaru being all, “my little baby boy!!” and “HOLY SHIT”, respectively, sent me all the way to the moon lmao

HELLO THERE YOICHI? fancy running into you here. just chilling out over in this montage of people close to Bakugou who are watching him kick ass. did you take a wrong turn, mayhap. you’re not inside of AFO, we know that much. and Deku, much as I’m sure he’d love to have a front row seat to all this, seems to have his hands full dealing with Tomura right now, sadly

so all of that does seem to raise an interesting question, no? where did you come from just now, and why? and when Kacchan says he’s not alone, is there perhaps more truth to that statement than even he knows? or am I once again just reading way too much into this lmao

anyway so yeah! that sure was fun. and with the end of the year approaching and back-to-back two-week chapter breaks coming up, I have a chance to do the funniest thing of all time, and still not manage to catch up, lol. nah but I’m gonna try my best though. pretty sure I should be able to manage

#bnha 409 #bakugou katsuki #all for one #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #sorry this is late I've been trying to post it for almost an hour #the 'post now' button was infuriatingly greyed out for some reason #ended up having to copy everything over to a brand new post and redo all the pics and formatting #thanks tumblr

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rubyreduji · 2 years

Text

In Front of Chan and Everybody — ksy

summary: when you and you boyfriend started having sex, you didn’t expect him to be so shameless about it. it doesn’t seem like his roommates are too shameful either.

tags: smut (minors dni!) warnings: explicit sex, exhibition, soonyoung is a little shit, being walked in on, dirty talk, slight degration/name calling, praise, kitten used as pet name wc: 2.4k an: i wasn’t quite sure how to end this so sorry if the ending is awkward, i just wanted to get this idea out of my head lol

“S-soonyoung! Nngh~ please, faster,” you whine as Soonyoung thrusts up into you, spearing you onto his cock.

It’s not the first time you guys have had sex, but it is the first time you guys have had sex at Soonyoung’s place. Most of the time you guys have sex either at your apartment or in Soonyoung’s car. This time though you guys had just come back for a date and wanted to cuddle so you went up to Soonyoung’s room.

Cuddling with Soonyoung is rarely ever just cuddling though. Your boyfriend likes to get handsy and soon it leads to making out and heavy petting which leads to where you are now, bouncing on Soonyoung’s cock.

Soonyoung lets out a swear before he starts to rock up into you even faster, his feet planted on the bed to give him more leverage. You bless his dancer thighs for being able to keep up with your insatiable desires.

“So good Soonie, I’m so close.”

With that extra motivation Soonyoung’s hips seem to pick up even more pace which you didn’t think was possible. His fingers find your clit as he starts to rub at the bud, shooting pleasure through your body. You feel your pussy clenching down on Soonyoung’s cock as your orgasm hits. Right as you start to release Soonyoung’s door flings open and his youngest roommate, Lee Chan, walks into the room.

“Hyung! You have to see this dance I just choreographed!” Chan pays you no mind but you scream and try to move to cover yourself but Soonyoung stops you, his hips still plowing into yours.

“Yeah sure, what song is it?” Soonyoung doesn’t even bat an eye at his friend walking in you guys having sex. You’re starting to get overstimulated by his hips still rutting into yours.

“Cheating On You by Charlie Puth. I think I’m gonna have Seungkwan-hyung dance with me,” Chan says. You whine not only to remind the boys you are there but also because you’re getting really overstimulated.

Soonyoung pulls you off his cock but just shoves his fingers right into you afterwards. “That sounds great Channie. Just let me finish up here and I can watch okay?”

“You’re the best hyung!” With that Chan left the room, not even bothering to close the door.

Soonyoung’s fingers pick up their pace and soon you’re cumming again around his fingers. You whimper loudly as you do and Soonyoung is pulling his fingers out of you only to wipe them on his bedspread. He pulls the condom off his dick before he pumps himself a few times and releases his cum all over your stomach.

You’re panting loudly, still a bit thrown off by Chan barging in on you guys.

“You okay pretty girl?” Soonyoung asks as he wipes his cum off of you.

“Why didn’t you stop when Chan came in?” You ask curiously.

“I don’t know, I was really in the moment and didn’t want to stop. Did it bother you? I’m sorry I should have stopped and made him get out.”

“N-no, it’s okay.” You just know your face is bright red right now. “I uh, didn’t mind. It just shocked me.”

“Hmm, I’ll keep that in mind. I do like showing off my pretty little kitten.”

You’re not an exhibitionist. You don’t seek out having sex in front other other people and you actually prefer to have sex in private, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not okay with people seeing you having sex. If someone just happens to see, and it doesn’t seem to bother them, you don’t mind too much either. Which is a good trait for your boyfriend, who is an exhibitionist.

You figure this out the second time someone catches you having sex with your boyfriend in his apartment. You guys are lounging around his living room when he starts to kiss up your neck. His hands move down to the tops of your waistband and you grab his hands to stop him.

“Soonie, stop. Someone could see us.” You eyed the doors that belong to the bedrooms of the other roommates.

“Nobody’s even home, baby. And would it even be that bad if someone saw us?" He nips at your earlobe. “Would be kinda hot right? Someone seeing how you fully belong to me as I split you open on my cock. They’ll get to see how pretty you look when you take me so nicely.”

You whine and internaly curse the way his words affect you. You release Soonyoung’s hands, giving him permission to continue. You can feel your boyfriend’s lips curl up into a smirk as he moves his hands into your pants and past your already slightly damp panties. The pads of his fingertips rub at your bare pussy and you clench against nothing.

“So needy already kitten. Do you want me to fuck you like the pretty slut you are?”

You nod as you let out a small mewl. Soonyoung chuckles and starts to rub at your clit. You buck your hips into his hand and his other hand grabs at your hips to hold them steady. You’re quickly soaking your panties with your arousal as Soonyoung spreads it all around.

“Need more Soonyoung,” you moan out. “I need your dick.”

“Of course you do, this slutty little cunt needs to be fucked nice and good.”

Soonyoung is pulling his hand out of your pants and sliding the fabric down your legs. He doesn’t even bother taking off your panties as he just pushes them out of the way. He pulls his pants down until his cock is free and he rifles around in his pocket until he finds the little square packet he was searching for. Of course he keeps condoms on him. He rolls the rubber onto himself before he lines you up and thrusts up into you.

You moan as you feel the drag of Soonyoung’s dick as he starts to move inside of you. “Yeah you like that? Take it like the good kitten you are.”

Just as Soonyoung starts to pick up pace you hear a click, the tell tale sign of the front door opening. Like last time though, Soonyoung doesn’t let up his thrusting. You don’t even bother to try and stop him either as his hands snake up your shirt to grab at your tits.

When the door opens in walks all three of Soonyoung’s roommates who also happen to be his friends, and fellow dancers from his dance studio, Jun, Minghao, and Chan.

“Oh what’s this?” Minghao smirks at you two as you try not to make too much noise. “Soonyoung-hyung, you're so dirty, playing with your toy in the living room like this.”

“Couldn’t help myself,” Soonyoung grunts out, “she just takes me so well. Look at how her pussy sucks me in.” Soonyoung pulls your back against his chest and leans back so the other boys can look at where you and your boyfriend were connected. You squirm around as you feel the three pairs of eyes on you.

“Woah, she’s so wet!” Chan says.

“That’s how whores get,” Jun tells the younger boy. “They gush all over while being fucked stupid.” With that Jun sits down on the couch and pulls out his phone to start playing some phone game. The two other boys also sit down and Minghao reaches for the TV remote.

You don’t get how they can just act like nothing is happening right in front of them. You don’t know if it’s better or worse that they’re ignoring you and your boyfriend’s ministrations. The only noise that fills the room is the low playing TV and the slap of your skin against Soonyoung’s.

“Do you guys wanna get dinner after this?” Soonyoung asks the boys. Each of them let out their own hums of agreement. “Hear that kitten? We gotta hurry up here quickly.”

You only nod as Soonyoung thrusts into you faster. You can hear the squelch of your pussy as Chan laughs at something on the TV. Soon you’re coming undone on Soonyoung’s cock, pussy clenching around him, milking his cock dry.

You have to catch your breath when Soonyoung slows down and pulls you off of his lap. You slump into the couch as Soonyoung pulls off the condom and ties it off before standing up, stuffing his cock back into his jeans, and walking over to the kitchen to throw the used condom away. He washes his hands, acting like he didn’t just ruin your pussy in front of three of his friends.

“Are you guys done?” Jun asks, finally looking up from his phone. He glances at you, at your slick pussy and fucked out face, before turning his head towards Soonyoung.

“Yep! Lemme clean up baby girl and then we can go get food.” Soonyoung then grabs a clean rag from the kitchen and dampens it before coming up to you to clean you up. After he cleans you up he brings you a cup of water.

The boys are then all standing and Soonyoung helps you stand as well and you five are on your way to get dinner.

This continues on until it becomes more or less common in the Wen-Kwon-Xu-Lee household. There are times where Soonyoung doesn’t even bother closing the door when fucking you, letting his roommates take a good look or even strike up a conversation with him. It’s never awkward afterward and the boys still treat you normally so you don’t mind much. You have noticed that you and Soonyoung have sex at his apartment more often though.

He fingers you during dinner with all five of you. He kneads at your breasts as you guys are having a movie night. He even cockwarms you as you guys play board games.

Right now his face is buried in between your legs as he sloppily makes out with your sopping cunt. His roommates are in the room as well, of course. They’re discussing some kind of dance performance thing that you can’t totally focus on because Soonyoung’s tongue keeps slurping you up so well and you’re so close to cumming. His pointer and middle fingers are pressed against your clit as he teases it.

“I think that we should do Moonwalker, Hao thinks we should do Lilili Yabbay, and Jun thinks we should do Wave, what do you think hyung?” Chan asks the dance leader. Soonyoung holds up a finger to tell him to wait a moment.

Soonyoung thrusts his tongue into you deeper, dragging it against your walls. His hand reaches up to grab at your tits as he rolls your nipples between his fingers. This has you spasming against his face, your arousal gushing all over his tongue as he is quick to lick it all up. When he’s fully convinced you have calmed down from your orgasm he finally pulls his head away from your cunt and wipes your juices off his face with the back of your hand.

“We should do Highlight. It’s the best choice and we know it the best. I love the other songs too but I think for this specific show we should do Highlight,” Soonyoung tells the group. The boys agree with their leader and with everything settled he goes to grab you a rag and a new pair of panties.

Usually whenever the boys are there when you’re getting your brains fucked out, they talk to Soonyoung or say nothing at all. They don’t really comment on you or to you and you weren’t quite sure why. You didn’t mind much, you were normally too distracted to hold a conversation anyways.

That’s why you’re a bit surprised when Chan strikes up a conversation with you while Soonyoung pounds into you. He’s holding you up, fucking you against the wall as your legs are wrapped around him. His tip is bruising your cervix as he pants into your shoulder. Your hands are buried in his hair as your bare tits bounce around from his harsh thrusts.

“Y/N-noona?” He stands behind Soonyoung so you can see him over your boyfriend’s shoulder. He has a shy look on his face that is quite different from his normal demeanor.

“Y-yes Channie?” You ask, trying to stabilize your voice.

“You’re a girl, so I was just wondering how do you get a girl to like you? Or I guess how can you tell that she likes you back?”

“Just uh, be yourself. You’re a great guy Chan, nghhh~ super nice and respectful. If she doesn’t like y-you back that’s uh, oh fuck Soon, her problem.” Soonyoung seems to be drilling into you even harder as you talk to Chan, like he wants all of your attention on him instead. He probably does. “Just, oohh~ right there, please, need more, just a-ask her out.”

Chan’s brows furrow as he chews at his bottom lip. “But what if she says no?”

“Then that’s her l-loss. Fuck Soonyoung!” You grab at your boyfriend’s hair, tugging harshly as he bites down on your shoulder particularly hard.

“Well how do I ask a girl out? And what kind of date do I take her on if she does say yes?”

“Chan, can we maybe uh, aahhh, finish this conversation l-later?” Your breath is whiny now as you can feel yourself about to cum. “Give us like, t-two more m-minutes.”

“Oh right, sorry noona, sorry hyung!” With that Chan walks back to his room.

As soon as his door shuts you’re cumming. You squeeze your legs tightly around Soonyoung’s hips as he shallowly thrusts into you, his dick creaming the condom. Soonyoung finally pops his mouth off of your shoulder only for him to bring your lips to his. Slowly he pulls out of you and the drag of his dick makes you whimper into your boyfriend’s mouth.

“So good for me, even talking to Channie while I’m fucking, such a good naughty girl,” Soonyoung mutters as he kneads at your ass. His lips connect back to yours and you guys are wrestling with your lips again. “Shit baby, gonna make me hard again.”

“Can’t,” you reluctantly pull away from your boyfriend, “have to go help Chan with his girl problems.” Soonyoung groans as you fully pull away from him, already heading towards Chan’s room. This is what he gets for wanting to fuck you in front of his roommates. Not that it's going to stop him though.

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diazsdimples · 1 month

Text

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @theotherbuckley @steadfastsaturnsrings and @puppyboybuckley (who published the final chapter of the Mudslide Fic, PLEASE go read it!)

I wasn’t gonna do this today cause I had the shift from hell and didn’t manage to write anything yesterday between birthday things but I managed to cobble this together after my shift! Frostpunk AU weirdly came back to me so please enjoy this small snippet!

Much to Buck’s relief, both Edmundo and Christopher are still alive when they make it back to the city, in record time as Bobby will have him believe. Rappelling down the cliff with two semi-conscious, reasonably unstable patients is more difficult than they’d initially anticipated, so in a rush of fear as he watches Bobby struggle with Christopher, Buck offers to bring the boy down himself.

Much like they did the day Buck carried Christopher to the cabin, they strap the child to Buck’s chest, using a small harness stored in the med kit on a “just in case” basis. Christophers head clunks repetitively against Buck’s chest as he pushes them off the cliff, slowly letting the rope out with each jump. He wishes that it wasn’t a two-hand job, that he could cradle Christopher’s head with one hand and keep the rope moving with the other.

Above him, Bobby abseils down with Edmundo dangling to the side of him in a basket. They’d done one last temperature check on the two of them before descending into the heavy, cold mist that lay over the city, and Edmundo’s had been the lowest they’d seen it since the rescue. The way Eli’s face had paled and he’d instantly tugged Bobby aside, talking with him in low, hushed tones was enough to tell Buck about the state of his health.

It made a cold, thrill of fear rush down Buck’s spine, settling in the pit of his stomach as a constant reminder of how precarious Edmundo and Christopher’s situation was, as he carried the small boy to safety.

The moment Buck and Christopher touched the ground, they were pounced on by a team of medics, headed by Hen.

“What’s the story, Buck?” Hen asked as she hurried to help peel off Buck’s outer layers and unclip him from the harness.

“Found this guy and his dad half frozen yesterday. He’s probably 7 or 8 years old and got moderate to severe hypothermia. Eli’s been monitoring him and he’s stable but barely conscious. Probably malnourished and seriously dehydrated,” Buck pants as he lowers Christopher onto the stretcher Hen has prepared. The kid’s light brown curls fall over his face, curling against his eyelids and Buck reaches out a tender hand to brush them back before he can stop himself.

If Hen notices, she chooses not to mention the look in his eyes as he does this.

“Alright, we’re going to take him to the med tent now. What about his dad?” Hen asks as two medics swiftly hoist Christopher’s stretcher into the air and run off in the direction of the nearest med tent.

Buck watches, half in a daze as Edmundo is lowered to the ground. His lips are pale and chapped, and his face looks lifeless and devoid of colour as his head lols to the side. A sick feeling creeps through Buck’s body as he thinks of how close they came to not making it back. How close Christopher came to losing his father.

“This is Edmundo Diaz, severe hypothermia, dehydration and malnourishment. He’s had issues with his oxygen and heart rate consistently through the journey home. Hen, he’ll need around the clock care, someone to stay with him, to keep an eye on him,” Buck says, hearing the urgency in his voice as he speaks. He doesn’t know what compels him, other than a sense that Edmundo is the other half of a magnet that’s drawing him ever closer, but Buck continues talking. “You guys can’t spare another medic but I-I don’t mind sitting with him. I’m good at taking his vitals a-and I could keep an eye on the kid.”

Hen eyes him, as if trying to read what his true motivation is. “Go,” she finally says, inclining her head towards the tent. Buck doesn’t need to be told twice.

No pressure tagging @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @evanbegins @smilingbuckley @thekristen999 @elvensorceress @rainbow-nerdss @wikiangela @daffi-990 @watchyourbuck @disasterbuckdiaz @bucksbackwardcap @fortheloveofbuddie @aroeddiediaz @jesuisici33 @buckbuckgoose @exhuastedpigeon @cal-daisies-and-briars @wildlife4life @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @nmcggg @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @kitteneddiediaz @epicbuddieficrecs @spagheddiediaz @loserdiaz

#james writes #frostpunk au #tired words that probably don’t make sense #hoping this pulls me out of my writing funk #buddie #eddie diaz #911 abc #evan buckley #911 buddie #911verse #911 fanfic #911 #eddie x buck

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violet-lavender-fem · 2 months

Note

Don't mind me just dropping receipts of JK Rowling engaging in holocaust denial~ Tee hee! :3

https://youtu.be/whJJGqVtkEk?si=aN1HXEfuR7BgxmgY

so i’m 1 minute and 16 seconds into the video and this man is saying that the fact jkr is expressing shock in the first tweet is due to the nazis burning books abt sex reassignment / gender

and not due to being basically called a nazi for being a feminist

let’s continue shall we

okay 5 minutes in and he still hasn’t proven that she was denying nazi book burning and not just ,, balking at being called a nazi, which is a serious fucking accusation

no sir (5:30) the “only good faith reading” of this tweet isn’t that she’s ignorant it’s that she’s taking offense to someone saying she follows nazi beliefs

(6:28) being opposed to the medical experimentation being performed on gnc people is not “being aligned with nazis” it’s called a nuanced issue that people come to separate conclusions on for different reasons. feminists are anti-porn bc we see it as rape on tape. conservatives hate porn bc they think women should never have sex. vaguely similar conclusions, completely different motivations and arguments.

(7:12) simply calling lgb alliance an “anti trans lobbying group” is a bit disingenuous lol

(7:59) y’all are abt to downplay eugenics and sexual inversion theory aren’t u

(8:35) yep

(8:52) still haven’t convinced me she said the book burning never happened

(9:45) a quick dig at the guy’s appearance, great, totally normal

(10:16) has this man never heard of paraphrasing as a way of making a statement more concise. jesus fucking christ

(10:30) ok the smallest possible acquiescence to paraphrasing as a concept

(12:00) yea he was definitely racist and a eugenicist :/ we’re not gonna dwell on that tho <3

(12:45) actually we’re actively going to downplay it <3 let’s just call him vaguely “problematic”

(13:32) or because he believed gay people were “born in the wrong body” — that lesbians were secretly part male (hence the searching for sperm), and the opposite for gay men

(14:09) so ur telling us what he ACTUALLY meant. like owowowoow it’s a dog whistle don’t listen i did all the thinking for u type shit

(14:51) is vaginoplasty not a form of sterilization. ur cutting the patient’s balls off aren’t u. so like. ? but i do concede to this one minor point.

(15:27) “yea he was a horrific torturing nazi. but like. not in the way u specifically said so this is all wrong.” so he was the guys coworker and he was a nazi doctor. just not this exact fucking way so it’s all moot??

(15:58) and now he’s directly comparing jkr to a real life nazi again. for making tweets he doesn’t like.

(16:40) STILL not convinced that she was referring to the book burnings as the fever dream

(17:17) THATS NOT SHIFTING THE GOALPOSTS THATS SOMEONE ELSE TRYING TO CONTINUE THE ARGUMENT AND FAILING BRUHHHHH sry someone pulled an argument out of their ass and jkr responded to that nonsense instead of the exact tweet u still seem to wanna talk abt. sorry conversations continue without u. someone ELSE shifted the goalposts FOR u.

quick timeline for ur benefit

> someone: ur basically a nazi

> jkr: what fever dream did u get that from

> someone else: yea trans ppl were literally the first victims of the nazis and every single piece of info on trans ppl was burned

> jkr: what

> someone ELSE: books on transsexuality were burned (something she didn’t deny, just put into historical context that y’all don’t like)

> jkr: are u not gonna mention the person that is doing actual holocaust revisionism here

> malcom: agreed?

(18:37) tweet didn’t say “this book burning was the first act against transsexuals” it said “trans ppl were the FIRST VICTIMS of the nazis” that’s u shifting the goalposts babygirl

(18:50) now ur claiming she said dora never died girl she wasn’t even brought UP in the CONVO

(19:21) but it is the view that this one specific person, whom jkr is specifically rebuking, holds

(19:47) girl this is what i’ve been saying this whole time. normal ppl don’t like when u call them nazis. they may even call ur logic a “fever dream.” weird huh

this is pissing me off fr how dare u call someone an actual nazi holocaust denier based on ur sickeningly bad-faith reading of their fucking TWEETS

(21:05) literally what ur doing right now

also can i point out that the reading of the tweets in such a pissy contemptuous tone of voice is of course going to make someone’s arguments sound stupid. half of ur “proof” here is her tone and what you think she’s saying, not her actual written words.

(21:31) nice actual nazi dog whistle

(21:33) i don’t trust eli erlick bc he is a rapist. he rapes fellow trans people. but carry on i guess.

(21:37) much of what ur referencing is compiled by someone who has raped trans people. great.

(21:50) transvestites are not the same as todays trans people. but carry on i guess.

this is wearing me out man

(24:47) yes absolutely visibly gender nonconforming people were persecuted and tortured and even murdered. a number of them likely experienced dysphoria and may have undergone surgery. does that mean all of those people would identify as transgender if they had that terminology? the citation continues to refer to these people as both transvestites and transgender, as if those are equivalent interchangeable terms. i don’t remember what source this is from. was this passage written by eli erlick, or by an actual holocaust historian?

(26:38) so now we’re actively equating the terms transvestite and transgender. this youtuber simply claimed that the two are the same without proof. i call presentism.

(28:47) gay men were referred to as homosexual. “Homosexuell” (“homosexual”) which is a direct synonym of gay. “transvestite” is not a direct synonym of transgender.

(29:16) miriam ezagui is an orthodox jew who describes her life and her jewishness. she has addressed the role of goblins in jkr’s works, saying that the history of them in folklore may be rooted in antisemitism, but jkr’s characters are goblins. not jews. she describes it better than i do idk find her account.

30 minutes in and we’re defining holocaust revisionism and denial. ok man

(31:32) is that a feminist or just a random dipshit on the internet

(31:43) is that a feminist or just a random dipshit on the internet

(31:46) is that a feminist or just a random dipshit on the internet

(32:27) yep

all done

not convinced. calling someone a holocaust denier is a serious accusation, and this entire video is all either actively choosing to believe she is saying something that she didn’t or taking offense at history being complicated and not fitting into your current worldview.

the nazis targeted jewish people, people of color, the romani, homosexual men, political dissidents, and people who were transvestites. likely more groups of people that i forgot to list. would some of those people identify as trans today? maybe. but you cannot decide that for them.

nazis committed disgusting atrocities at a scale that’s practically unimaginable. and to call a woman a nazi or a holocaust denier because of the way you read her tweets is sick.

#it’s 1am so if this is hard to follow that’s why

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nhl-stories · 20 days

Text

hornylovesickmess – Nico Hischier

Summary: Marie should know better by now, knows she should leave him alone, but Nico's like a drug. One more hit can't hurt.

Author’s Note: Almost a year to the day I finally finished this album series. Phew! Also lol to me thinking I'd have the motivation to finish it in 10 weeks. Seems clear from the title but it does get steamy below.

Word Count: 2.6k

Album Series Masterlist

And I don't wanna be the type of person who calls you up Every time I need to get off

The view from her hotel room is taunting her. It’s sunny and bright on the Hudson River, reflecting off the buildings of the New York skyline.

Most people wouldn’t be too upset about being put up in a nice hotel and having 48 hours free in close proximity to the city, but Marie had moved away for a reason.

And still part of her is stuck here, even at a 4-star hotel minutes away from Newark airport.

So, she does what she does best and gives into her baser instincts.

She’s no stranger to crafting the perfect sext, keeping it tantalizing and teasing enough while still giving her location. Like an eloquent ‘u up?’

Marie hits send before she can second guess herself.

She shouldn’t be reaching out to him, grabbing for that loose thread and pulling for her own selfish reasons. But she’s been lonely since the move and in all honestly, just plain horny.

Nico almost swallows his tongue when he opens the text.

At first glance a simple picture of the New York skyline, but at second glance the reflection of a naked woman comes into view.

It might as well be Marie’s calling card.

He regrets opening the text in the locker room.

“What the hell has you that red Neeks?” Bastian calls from his stall.

He can feel the blush getting darker.

“The last time you looked like that was because of that flight attendant,” Bratter calls out.

When he doesn’t respond balls of tape come flying his way with a chorus of groans.

“It’s not like I texted her first!”

“You never text her first,” Jack rolls his eyes.

“I’m not texting her back.”

“Block her number while you’re at it,” Bratt responds.

Nico stashes his phone away and mostly forgets about the text.

||||

She checks her phone for about the fifth time during drinks with her friends. She knows what they’re thinking, but they’re not gonna say it.

It’s especially kind of them since Nico hasn’t responded. Even though he’s the type of guy to have read receipts on, so she knows he looked at her message.

Her phone buzzes, she pulls it out of her pocket so fast she fumbles it, dropping it on the bar. Her friend snatches it up and laughs.

“It’s a notification from Postmates, you have coupon.”

Marie feels herself flush, embarrassed to be caught like some kind of junkie waiting for their next hit.

“Jesus Christ, just go get laid! You’re unbearable when you’re wound this tight. It’s not even worth the catch up.”

“Fine, I’ll go, but only because I haven’t had sex in months. See you on my next layover.”

“Unless you’re still jonesing for that Jersey dick!”

“It’s Swiss,” Marie sticks her tongue out.

She waves down a cab, and she should give the address to her hotel, but she’s in some sort of horny fugue state. Why go back and masturbate at her hotel thinking about him when she knows his address?

Before she knows it, she’s at his door fixing her hair and trying to lean seductively against the doorframe. Maybe she’s lost her mojo during her recent dry spell.

She knocks before she loses her nerve.

Marie hears someone lumbering along around on the other side of the door. Nico finally answers the door; shirtless with a pair of gray sweats low on his hips, hair flopping about like he just woke up.

Her mouth goes dry at the familiar sight, or maybe she salivates, or somehow both at the same time. She feels so out of sync with her hormones.

But she knows she wants, scratch that, needs.

“Thought maybe the picture just didn’t do the real thing justice,” she smirks even though she kind of wants to grimace at the cheesy line.

“I was trying to let you down easy,” he’s trying to avoid eye contact.

“Well, here I am, easy and ready to be let down on your bed.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. She can practically see his willpower crumbling piece by piece.

“C’mon, I haven’t been with anyone else since Denver.”

She dares to reach out, running a finger from his collarbone down, down, down, until Nico grabs her wrist.

“Just–“ he yanks her into the apartment, “get in here.”

Marie is flush against his chest now, she smirks, “that’s more like it.”

“Your picture got me in trouble in locker room, the boys think you’re no good for me.”

“Do you want me to be good for you?” She roughly grabs him through his sweatpants.

“I don’t think you could be if you tried,” he ruts against her palm.

She gentles her touch in response, she wants to be good, for Nico at least.

Marie can’t make eye contact now. If she looks up all the guilt of coming here after she promised herself she’d stop will come rushing back. She doesn’t have time for that when she can feel him hardening in her hand.

So, she closes her eyes and kisses him. Lets her tongue explore his mouth. Lets Nico manhandle her towards the bedroom. A path she’s too familiar with even with her eyes closed.

She doesn’t dare open her eyes until she’s flat on her back and hears Nico rummaging in the bedside table. As he comes back up with a condom, Marie works on the too many layers of clothes she’s still wearing.

He rolls on the condom and strokes himself slowly, “Is this you being good?”

Marie spreads her thighs and bites her lip, holding back demands for him to get on with it.

He pushes her legs even farther apart and nearly drapes himself over her. One finger runs up her slit, feeling how slick she is with desperation, he sucks the finger into his mouth and Marie can’t hold on any longer.

“Please, fuck, please,” she grapples for his shoulders anything to anchor her in the moment.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement than that to push in one go.

“Jesus Christ,” Marie gasps at the sudden intrusion, familiar as it is.

He sets an agonizingly slow pace, making her feel every unbearable movement without getting her any closer to her climax.

“C’mon Nico, give it to me,” she whines and clenches around him, trying to egg him on.

But it doesn’t deter him from his mission to tease her death, maybe it’s punishment for how she’s treated him.

She tries to move her own hips for more friction and still Nico keeps with his slow and steady pace.

Marie grabs his hair and makes him look at her, “I swear to god, if you don’t start really fucking me, I’m gonna explode.”

The evil little smirk he gives her, makes her stomach swoop.

“I knew you couldn’t stay good.”

“If being bad means I’ll have an orgasm, I guess I’m the devil,” she pulls him in for a kiss that’s probably too much tongue and teeth but she doesn’t care.

Then Nico takes her by surprise, flipping her onto all fours in such a fluid movement she already feels closer to coming. And that’s before he starts railing her from behind. The slap of skin and pornographic squelching fills the silence in the room.

Marie has lost all her witty words, can barely get enough air to make noises beyond tiny gasps. Nico knows exactly where to thrust, how to grip her hips, tweak her nipples, reach between her thighs and rub her clit. It’s too much, to have your body read like a book.

She clenches around him when she’s almost over the edge and feels him release, one hand tightening so hard on her hips it might bruise.

He blankets his body over her back, kissing her shoulders while he continues to rub her clit, buried deep inside her.

Her arms give out when she finally comes, her body singing with pleasure. Nico’s weight heavy on her, but she can’t bring herself to move him, it all feels too good.

She doesn’t remember when they move apart, or if they clean up at all, or if she peed afterward, she really hopes she at least did the last one. Still, she’s in hazy bliss before she’s rudely awoken from her dream-like state by her alarm obnoxiously ringing, too loudly at that.

She has to get out of the bed to find her phone her jeans pocket.

“Shit, fuck, shit,” she swears before having to put her clothes back on.

Nico’s alarm starts going off now. He sits up to see Marie half-dressed already.

“Of course,” he sounds so disappointed.

“I have a flight to catch and I still have to get my uniform and pack my suitcase.”

“Sure,” he sighs as he starts to get out of bed himself.

She probably deserves this, scratch that she knows she deserves this, but doesn’t mean she won’t defend herself.

“It’s a 9:30 Newark to DFW, look it up” she knows her shirt is inside out but that’s how late she is as she calls an Uber.

“Thanks for last night,” she gives Nico a quick kiss and leaves before he can respond.

Of course, when the elevator opens, Jack is the one standing on the other side, with an exhausted looking boy next to him. It’s probably his brother, Marie’s brain supplies the small Devils knowledge she has.

“That fucking idiot.”

“I showed up here, the blame is on me,” Marie holds her hands up in surrender.

“But the inside shirt and messed up hair is probably on him.”

“Probably can mostly blame me for that too, I know you want to.”

The look of disgust on his face makes that very clear.

Thankfully, the elevator door opens before the torture can continue.

||||

Marie goes back to rebuilding her resolve. She was trying to quit him cold turkey, not mess up Nico’s perfect little world again. But she couldn’t resist one more hit of her favorite drug.

Still, the universe isn’t making it easy for her to stay sober.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!”

Marie and her coworkers all jump at the exclamation. When she turns around there’s Jack Hughes.

Nico is nowhere to be seen, so Marie is sure she can get away without making much of a scene.

“Of all the hotels in a city with multiple airports…” Jack doesn’t seem amused at her response, “I’m just as surprised as you, sorry the universe is clearly playing a sick joke on us.”

She runs off to her room before she has a chance encounter with Nico. Begs off from dinner plans with her coworkers. Masturbates in the shower in hopes of taking the edge off.

She’s wound up like a rubber band knowing Nico is so close. For all she knows, there’s only a wall separating them right now.

And of course, she gives in, because Marie is a fiend and a rotten person. How can she resist when the world laid it out on a platter like this.

She hopes he’s stronger than her and doesn’t respond, but she texts him regardless: I have it on good authority we’re in the same hotel

Marie can barely put her phone down before she gets a response.

Yeah for someone who doesn’t want me interacting with you Jack was quick to gossip

She can hear his tone through the words, hear his husky laugh at his own joke. Her chest feels like it’s squeezing her heart. Makes her act out of character.

Wanna get dinner or drinks or something?

Marie from a few months ago would be nauseous at this kind of proposition, but her present-self feels like she owes Nico… something different.

So, she finds herself tucked into a corner booth at some restaurant Nico says he’s been to before.

And she laughs at his jokes. Brushes her hand over his. Turns a bit soppy looking into his warm brown eyes.

And she knows she made a mistake.

But still, she holds his hand as they walk back to the hotel; swaying back and forth, a little wine-drunk.

Marie walks him to the door like she’s some sort of gentleman at the end of a first date, they both know the connotations are anything but gentlemanly.

“This was nice,” she smiles up at him.

“If you were still in Jersey, we could have nights like this all the time,”

That should deflate her a bit, but she’s made it too far for it to end here with some serious conversation, so she reaches into his pocket to grab his room key and unlock the door, shoving him into the room.

She kisses him, hard and needy. She desperately wants her lips everywhere. She follows that train down his jaw.

“Clearly you want this kind of thing too, or you wouldn’t come crawling to me anytime we’re in the same place,” his hands are bunching up the skirt of her dress.

She bites down on his neck, a little meaner than she should. But it gets him going enough to throw her onto his bed. Her underwear is gone and a finger is pushing into her before she can make any moves.

A second and third are soon to follow. The pressure from his thumb on her clit is enough to make her throw back her head and enjoy the intoxication.

His other hand cups her jaw, makes her open her eyes and look at him.

“This is all I wanted, but you had to be a brat who let me find out you moved by showing up to your empty apartment,” he stops moving his fingers, stops using any pressure.

“I apologized for that,” she whines, desperate and uncaring.

“Did you?” He crooks his fingers just so.

“I gave you a blow job,” Marie grits out.

He raises his brows while he pulls out, leaving her feeling emptier than ever before.

“Fuck.”

The realization crashes over her harder than any orgasm ever could.

She scrambles off the bed throwing on her underwear and grabbing her phone.

“I’m deleting your number.”

“What?”

“I moved to a city that doesn’t even have a hockey team to stay away from you and that’s not even working.”

“You moved because of me?” The crease between his brow is like a canyon.

“You wanted more and I knew I wasn’t– I’m not in a place to give that to you, but fuck! Whatever I’m doing now– I’m just being cruel, aren’t I?”

“I’m not exactly turning you away.”

“Doesn’t mean I should keep using you,” tears she wasn’t expecting start to well up, “Nico you’re worth a lot more than a quick fuck from a flight attendant who happens to be in the same zip code as you.”

Nico just stares at her and Marie knows she has to be the bigger person here.

“You should block me on everything too, don’t give me a way to weasel my way back in.”

Once she’s dressed, she moves towards Nico, moves a strand of hair off his forehead.

She feels like she should say something meaningful, but this isn’t that kind of relationship; Marie made sure of that when she scorched the earth behind her when she left.

She kisses him one last time and hopes she’ll be able to find her next hit in someone else.

#nico hischier #nico hischier fic #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier imagines #new jersey devils fic #new jersey devils #new jersey devils story #nj devils #nhl #nhl stories #nhl fic #hockey fics #hockey imagines

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sleeper9 · 3 months

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Birth of the Beatles rewatch

I’m now motivated to rewatch birth of the Beatles since it’s been awhile (6 months) here’s my thoughts:

What I remember liking about this movie is it starts with the Beatles in their leather looks right away and just the image of them walking around like this in their “cool uniforms” is so funny to me and you can see why Paul was like “people would make fun of us” lmao.

I think the likenesses in this movie is actually not that bad especially George and Paul but the man playing John is just clearly too old (although I don’t think he does a bad job). Also is this the only movie that actually shows Paul being an absolute nuisance and insane lad??? The energy is off the charts (which is true to life)

They’re kinda cute idk

John calling Paul a beauty right away mmhmm you know that’s right.

It’s leopold and loeb themselves! The nerk twins! I like how much they attack people together and George is a good back up. It’s amazing how Beatles movies cannot get this dynamic at all right. But Paul being so supportive of Stu… lmao…

John and Paul goofing off together in the background you know that’s right. I like to hear johns silly little giggle

George always calling Paul “paulie”… so cute

Timeline gets real messed up in the middle bit. They skip over the paris trip of course 😔… imagine someone actually showing Paul and Johns trip like… revolutionary it would be

Enter Brian!

They really said Yah these boys were hot!

I like how they make such a big deal about trying to convey Brian is a GAY man and then the very next scene

Paul and John just out here looking like a married couple

Damn John where you putting that hand!

Damn these bitches really laugh in your face!!! (When you know in reality they were bowing saying oh yes pls mr Epstein)

Paul getting scared of a red light and Brian being like stop being a DIVA Paul. But omg these ungrateful little bitches being like you’re a failure Brian! Shut up Brian! Smh. At least they throw in a scene of John being super nice. There’s lots of scenes of John being really nice.

When John and Cynthia kissed after hearing they got the record deal I seriously thought Paul was gonna lean in and smooch George. The Paul actor gives off big I’ll shag anyone energy which is once again very rare!

Kinda appropriate the movie ends with John getting depressed out of nowhere lol… also very rare to have a message of no Beatle is better than the other

#the birth of the beatles #the beatles #personal #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #brian epstein

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milfswriter · 1 year

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Can you do CEO! rhea ripley x FEM! reader and rhea is in a meeting in her office, and reader is sitting on the couch or smth and decides to tease rhea by taking her clothes off infront of her

Word prompt : “ don’t make me punish you“

If you can do it thank you, if you can’t I understand <333

Sorry guys for the slow posts LOL. I’m having motivation withdrawal if that’s even a thing.

Control

CEO!Rhea Ripley x reader Summary: you're bored in Rhea's office, you take matters into your own hand.

Notes and warnings: smut, teasing, spanking, fingering, edging, mentions of alcohol?, lmk if there's anything else.

It was boring. Rhea told you she'd be done in an hour but now it's been two and a half and she showed no sign of finishing up anytime soon. She kept you busy with many milkshakes and appetizers she told her assistant to bring you whenever she saw your patience wavering.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she listened to what the guy in the Zoom meeting was rambling about, clearly not agreeing with whatever point he was trying to make. You took this as a chance to gain her attention.

"Well, Mr Thorne, I thi-" she was cut off by the sight in front of her. Your jacket off, your button-up shirt halfway unbuttoned as you approached her desk with your hands in your pockets. She gulped in surprise, blinking before turning back to her webcam.

"I think the number of sales should be raised by 40% by next year or I will stop the manufacturing of these motherboards. No matter how stable the sales are, I want higher" she could see you with the side of her eye, pacing back and forth in front of her, your sleeves raised to your elbow as you waited for the right moment to strike.

Other people started talking, you saw her press the mute button before leaning back against her chair, joining her hands on her lap as she crossed her legs. "Sit back on that couch. Don't make me punish you" she kept her professional face on, considering the webcam was still on.

You let out a whine, "you're taking too long. Didn't know Miss Ripley's so bad at keeping promises" her face hardened even more at the name, her eyes narrowing.

"I did not promise you anything, I gave you an estimate" her tone was still hard, whatever meeting that was was definitely stressing her out.

"An underestimate for sure. I am not one of your employees" you reminded, "turn that camera off, I wanna come closer"

She reached for the mouse and gave it a little click, moving her chair back to give you space.

You smirked, loving the hold you had on the powerful CEO. You walked to her ever so slowly, rounding the desk, and were going to straddle her before she turned you and bent you over the desk before you can comprehend what was happening.

"you think you can tell me what to do, hm? you want me to turn the camera back on..want them to see Miss Ripley's pet get punished?"

You let out a groan, disappointed that your previous teasing wasn't entirely working according to plan. she pulled you up against her front, her hands continuing your work of unbuttoning your shirt before groping your breasts through your black lace bra.

"Answer me, slut" she ordered, hand snaking around your throat as you nodded. "yes..yes ma'am" you whispered, turning your head to make eye contact with the taller woman who gave you a softer look than you expected in return.

"Miss Ripley? you with us?" she rolled her eyes at the voice, placing a hand on your back to keep you there while the other reached for the mouse again to unmute herself.

"M’right here.. go on, Thorne" she muted herself once more, reached under you to unbutton your pants and pulled them down your legs.

“Mhm..you’re gonna keep quiet, and take your punishment"

A yelp echoed through the office as her palm connected with your ass, rubbing it after to soothe you. You tried moving away from her when she struck again but she kept you in place with one hand. Her strength often turned you on, but it was definitely a disadvantage to you this time.

“Oh no, baby. Told you you’re gonna get punished, but you had to act like a little whore instead of waiting for me to finish" she nipped at the shell of your ear.

"you gave me no choice, though!"

"shut up, y/n/n" she let out a chuckle, "now..you're gonna count for me" before you could even think of protesting, she struck again.

"fuck, one.." she kept going, barely giving you any time to breathe. "god! nine.."

"that's it, one more..I'm going easy on you 'cause this meeting is the last thing I wanna do on this earth"

She rubbed your now-dark red cheeks, her middle finger sneaking between them to collect your slick, a groan leaving her mouth at your wetness.

"Oh, would you look at that..you got this wet from being punished?" she mocked you with a pout, turning your head by your hair to face her.

"Look at me while I fuck you" you let out a gasp as you felt two digits enter you ever so slowly, the voices of Rhea's unfazed employees playing in the background along with the sounds of your slick as your girlfriend fucked you into her desk.

"oh..g..god" you grinded against her fingers, her free hand coming to fist your hair, pulling it back to see you properly as she whispered filth into your ear.

She lifted one of your legs to reach even deeper inside you, your scream telling her it was a good decision. "That's it, good girl. Take your punishment" a hearty laugh escaped her throat at the sight of you, begging at her mercy.

She knew you were close. Your thighs clenching impossibly tight around her fingers they began to cramp, breath heavy, and your back arched as a bow.

As you began to shake and writhe under her, she removed her fingers and herself from you completely. "no, FUCK!" you whined loudly, your face contorting in the mixture of pleasure and pain.

There was no sound behind you, you tried to turn your head to look for Rhea but failed miserably due to the exhaustion and cramping you felt from being bent over the desk for over twenty minutes.

"R...Rhea?" you called, your voice hoarse.

"here, bunny" she was suddenly in front of the desk, crossing her arms in victory as she saw your state. "Come, we'll go home. And maybe you'll get your reward"

She saw your failed attempt to get up and walked back over to you, holding you into her as she pulled your pants back up, buttoning them and pulling the zipper up. She let you sit in her chair, something she doesn't often do.

Rhea got you a glass of water from the shelf where she keeps her whiskey and other alcoholics she chugs whenever work gets on her nerves.

"You're cruel" you mumbled, chugging the whole glass. She shook her head with a laugh, leaning down to kiss your lips. You pulled her into you by her blazer, jerking when her knee purposely accidentally pressed against your sensitive dissatisfied core.

Yep. You weren't getting out of there anytime soon.

Taglist:

@obsessedwithwwewomen @ara-a-bird @jungwoospeach @yourmisosoup @cameronsdruthers @dementedtrashcat @children-scareme

#rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley #rhea ripley wwe #wwe imagines #demi bennett x reader #demi bennett

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moriahwritez · 6 months

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I’ve waited for you (Sevika x Female reader)

Hello guys! Finally time to continue back on writing Sevika’s fics. I remember writing a bit of her back in 2022. Guess I didn't had motivation to work on more, BUT HERE I AM! So here you go my fellow lesbians who needed something.

I do miss Sev it's not funny :(

My bad y’all I had to reread cuz I type so fast and had to go back for correction, forgive me😭😭😭

Anyways, please enjoy.💜💜💜

Lovely night in Zaun, the green lights dim throughout the streets. It was pretty silence on the road. You stayed in your wife’s bed, waiting impatiently to see her adorable face again. The room was very quiet and felt so empty as you thought about it. All you could hear only is the air conditioner cooling down the heat from all day and some of the noises from downstairs. That's the only thing you could hear but not the road outside. Could tell it was some people having a good time... but not for you it is. You didn’t want to think about other things, but your wife only and only her. It was now 1am, as you check on the clock on top of the wall above the headboard where your laying at. Suddenly, your heart skip when the keys jingles close to the front door as you heard it opened. Could it be her? “Sevika, love?” You ask yourself. Finally, you waited for hours to see her. You heard the sound of your wife mumbles as she walks in the bedroom quietly and takes off her jacket, hanging it up on her chair not noticing you were up. “Oh! Love, I didn't know you was awake." She jumps a bit. She saw how dark was the room and never knew you was up, til she saw your shadow from the dim light of the window. Sevika turn the light to finally see you look extremely tired. "Why you still up, sweetheart? You’ve been waited for me all night?” Sevika says in concern. She didn't want to be mean to you for staying up too long, so she pulls herself together, coming towards you. She bends down to kiss your forehead, meeting the same height. You were pretty short comparing to hers lol (like me XD) She holds you tightly enjoying the embrace she’s giving to you. “Well, I’m here now.” Then, you reply back. “Sev, I was so worried.” You caress her soft cheek, trailing your finger on her blue scar trying to not start crying. “I’ve waited the whole entire night. I couldn’t sleep. I just kept thinking about you for so long.” You said while leaning on her chest as a tear came down on your cheek. “Oh, my love.” Sevika caress the side of your beloved face, pressing you more. She then places your chin back up to meet her eye. “No need to worried, dear. I was thinking about you too. Now that I’m here, it’s over, love.” You had your anxiety moments thinking something would happened to Sevika if she wasn’t home. All those negative thoughts in your head had to be erased. Luckily, your wife had came to save you. “I was just nervous how long you was out there. I wanted you to come home early-“ Sevika shushes you. “Shhh, love don't worried so much. I’m fine. Everything went well. Were both safe.” She looks down at your beautiful eyes sparkle like diamonds. “You know how much I love you, right?” You sniff your tears and lifts a small smile. “Yeah, I know.” You calmed down for a bit and sighs. “Just wanted to make sure you was safe. That’s all. I can't keep thinking what would ever happened to you if-” Sevika cupped your both cheeks together, admiring how adorable your face were like a baby. “Love, do I have to say it all over again? Y/N, look at me.” She ordered you softly to do what she says and you did. “I was fine at work, I promise. And I came home safely didn't I? Yes I came home safe and sound. Nothing's ever gonna happened towards me...or you. I’m still here and we’ll continue to move on.” Your wife does her best to comfort you. She continues looking at you, which was such an awe moment. She couldn’t bear to look away from that puppy eyes of yours. “Now, can we finally get sleep? I’m exhausted…” Sevika says letting out a yawn. You nod. “Yes, same here.” Sevika lifts you up into her arms and without wasting enough time, she carries you to bed. She let you lay down first before she gets on top and turns her whole body to have her head lied on your upper chest. “Goodnight, love,” says Sevika droozing off to sleep with her work outfit on still. You caress her simple bun, while watching her. You finally felt relief from all the anxiety had in you. Eventually, you closed your eyes and gently fall asleep, not wanting to let her go.

The end.

(Yay! What a cute and heartwarming short story. I hope you enjoyed this a lot with Sevika. If your more into my fanfics, please follow me and I’ll be back writing more cute, romantically stories of our favorite milfs and others hehe). (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

#arcane #sevika arcane #sevika #arcane fandom #arcane sevika #fanfic #sevika x fem reader #sevika fanfic #sevika x you #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika fanfiction #sevika x y/n #arcane league of legends #arcane lol #arcane fanfiction #lesbian

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bronx-bomber87 · 6 months

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Happy Tuesday evening lovely fandom :) The work flirts continue on and in front of EVERYONE at the station might I add in this one. Like they’re not even trying to hide it at this stage in their relationship. God I love s4. Lets get this started eh?

4x03 In the Line Of Fire

We first catch Tim talking to Grey in the locker room. (Lucy did appear earlier but was for SL don't care about with Nolan ha) Wade suggests a Sergeants aide to him. Tim being Tim sees it as a sign of weakness. Like he can’t handle his workload. He is defensive and says he doesn’t need one. Grey knows where his head is and says it’s not weak to need one. They're short staffed it makes sense to. I LOVE LOVE LOVE Wade suggesting Lucy to him.

He’s not wrong they’re seamless together. They miss riding together (not that either will admit this) It makes perfect sense on paper. You can see the wheels turning in Tim’s head above as he considers this. Now I think his immediate gut reaction is Lucy. Not a doubt in my damn mind. But as he continues to mull it over he sees the cons of it. If you’re not in tune with Tim you might not get his motives for not choosing her right away.

We will delve into that later in the episode. But I know when he thinks on it more it’s because he wants to protect her. On multiple levels by not choosing her. I love this about him. His first instinct is to protect Lucy above all else. Emotionally, her career, you name it he’s protecting it. Love this man.

Friggin Nolan overhears this and jumps the gun. What else is new? Foot in mouth disease is his go to. He is causing unecessary friction because he can’t keep his mouth shut. (I mean it leads to a delightful episode for them but I have to give him shit.) It's setting both Tim and Lucy up for failure with the aide news. Nolan telling Lucy that Tim is going to pick her to be his go-fer with such certainty does just that. Saying he heard Grey tell Tim to do so. Getting her all excited he’s going to choose her.

When Tim picks Webb instead Lucy is CRUSHED. Tim is looking in her general direction too which is even more misleading. Her actions above are screaming very loudly how upset she is. I love how much Lucy uses her hands when she is upset. She fidgets and doesn’t know what to do with herself at all. I’m Italian so I can relate haha I feel like she is going through so many emotions in this moment. Hurt he didn’t choose her, agitated that he chose Webb, confused why he would choose anyone but her and lastly pouting because he didn’t choose her.

Petty Lucy is born in this moment and I love it. It's like being told your crush is gonna ask you out and then doesn’t…. You also know she’s going to be jealous and try and lure it out of Tim why he didn't. Because well Lucy LOL She’s doing all these things while Nolan is catching Grey up about his case. Having a loud pout session front and center for Tim and all to see haha Makes me laugh so much. She is deeply upset and everyone will know about it haha

Lucy gives Nolan more grief (as she should) about misreading the Sergeant-Aide situation. Now she’s in analysis mode. Trying to break down why he did what he did. Nolan stating the obvious that it's bothering her Tim didn't pick her. (Duh. You should be a detective. Oh wait....) Lucy explains why this opportunity would be beneficial to her above. She’s not wrong but she is also refusing to beg. Wants him to come crawling to her. Admit he wants her there not the other way around. Oh petty Lucy you are hilarious to watch.

Doesn’t want to give Tim the satisfaction of having her ask. Or having her fate in his hands again. Wants him to be the one to give in and want her around. To Lucy she’s earned that spot with him. Wants Tim to recognize she should be his aide. Nolan should be smart enough to stay clear of this couples spat. But it is Nolan so…he is dealing with her going off haha Lucy finishes off her rant telling John if there is one thing she knows its Tim is definitely missing her right now.

We cut to Tim having a blast with Webb LMFAO They're talking about the game last night. How Webb has season tickets to both the Dodgers and Angels. That he can hit him up anytime for some. You can tell Tim is having a good time with Webb. If Lucy could see this interaction right now it would break her heart. Not really missing her at the moment haha He’s in sports heaven right now.

The way Lucy is reacting to Webb being Tim’s aide is so funny. She literally stomping her foot like but that’s my Tim and my position. Minute she sees Webb at the food trucks she’s on him. Lucy is so jealous they’re having a good time. The way she says 'Really? that's....awesome' (Sure it is..) Sabotage becomes her next play.

Asking Webb if he’d like to know how to stay on Tim's good side. She checks behind her to make sure Tim isn't catching her trickery ahaha She knows he wouldn't like these 'tips'. Smh. Lucy Chen you are playing dirty…. Transparent as a glass house my dear. They get interrupted by a sniper shooting a car that crashes into their lunch spot. So we don’t get to hear these ‘tips’ of hers. All we know is it won't end well for Webb.

We cut back to Webb and Tim in their shop. Talking about the weird case they have right now. He starts going on about his cat personality. Tim’s face. I’m dying. Eric is the king of expressions and I'm laughing so hard. He is so uncomfortable. When Webb asks Tim what his is? It's then Tim knows where this is stemming from. He immediately asks if Lucy put him up to this? Knows his wife too damn well. Like he wasn’t going to figure that out ASAP. Or maybe that was part of her plan. To torture him and have him know she was the reason behind it. These two are ridiculous and I love it.

So begins the ridiculous childishness that is these two in this episode. (I'm loving this BTW) Well Lucy was already there. Been living there for a hot minute heh. Now that Tim knows she wants the job it’s game on. Because why talk about this like adults? When they can work flirt this to death. LMAO Not only that but torture each other along the way. Be more married you two my god. They clearly miss riding with one another but won't be the first to blink. Their competitive nature not letting them yield any control.

The amount of flirting going on in this scene. My god. And it's happening in roll call of all places. Shamelessly flirting in front of the entire station. Tim calling Lucy out for wanting the job. Her innocently saying 'What?' Like she didn’t just sabotage that man out of insane jealously and pettiness LOL

Tim straight up calls her out on it. Saying the cat personality was ALL her. Lucy continues her clueless act with the hint of a cocky smirk. She’s trying so hard not to break this battle of wills they have going on. Her body language betraying her so badly. Tim is onto her and it’s so damn funny. Tim thinks he has the upper hand in this conversation. Knowing she wants the job and is very aware of her sabotage. Thinks the scales are tipping his way right now.

That is until Lucy crushes him with her words and flirting. He’s stunned into silence. You know this man loves it when she does this stuff. He’s mad he likes it. Lucy drives him insane and he goes back for seconds every time. I love how Tim is so caught up in this flirt he forgets where he is. The way he double checks behind him is hilarious. Like she said something dirty to him in public and he’s red baha Also making sure no one else is hearing this convo of theirs. How she just owned his ass during it. Can you spot the married couple?

To continue the petty childish run they're currently on Tim gets back at Lucy quickly. Saying he wants to spread the love. Give someone else a shot at being his go-fer. Her face in that second gif LMFAO. Lucy could not be more smug if she tried. The way she pumps her eyebrows at him. Thinking she has won this battle of theirs. He’s going to pick her. Game over. She's wondering what to him so long. Then he picks someone sure to get under her skin. Smitty…

He makes sure to look her in the damn eye as he says it. The audacity of this man. He knows EXACTLY how to get under her skin. Looks her in the eye, smiles that devious smile, and says Smitty. Such an ass lmao but he’s her ass. Drives her just as insane as she drives him. I’m sure the room is thinking. ‘God just make out already’ LOL Damnit love them so much.

Lucy notes her frustration very loudly. Grey may not totally understand what’s going on but knows it’s something. Calls Lucy out on it. Asking if she has a problem? She is immediately defeated with a ‘No….’and ends with a even sadder ‘sir….’ Tim has won this round and she can’t do a damn thing about it. These two are so ridiculous and I love them for it. It’s like she forgot their little feud was in front of Roll Call and Grey had to bring her back to reality poor girl. lol

Lucy gets her's in the end though. Smitty being Smitty. Tim is regretting his decision so much already. He's telling Tim all the things he can't do. Lucy hangs back and is enjoying the show. Her smugness returns quickly as Tim has to load the war bags cause of Smitty's 'bad back' LMAO

I love how the scene starts with her eyeing him across the bullpen. She come over and asks why Smitty isn’t doing the paperwork? Tim says he claims to be allergic to paper LMFAO. Lucy's smugness continues. Tim tells her it’s not funny.... Leads her right into her convo with him. Saying he should’ve just asked her instead. Tim replying he was trying to do her a favor. That people might view her riding with him again as a step back. Now we can loop back to why he hesitated in the first place in detail.

You can hear the hurt in her voice. The way she feels offended that he would prefer the station to know he’d rather ride with Smitty than her. When its anything but that. I talk about Tim always wanting to protect Lucy. Whether that is physically or emotionally. His first gut reaction is to shield her. That’s what he was doing in this moment. He respects her so much and thinks so highly of her as an officer.

The last thing he would want ANYONE in the station to think was she didn’t earn it. He definitely didn’t want to be a proponent of that either. Tim has seen how hard she's had to work to get to a good place in her career. Last thing he would want to do is jeopardize that with people thinking otherwise. Just because he wants her back as his partner. I love that so much. He’s guarding her career in this moment. Doesn’t want her to endure any unnecessary BS for being his aide. Refuses to be selfish and puts her first.

Also I think he is aware people know of their dynamic. That people will think she got it for unsavory reasons. Reasons he would never allow but people will think it anyways. His intentions are so very Tim Bradford in how crazy honorable they are. Lucy is listening intently and understands why he’s doing it. But she can’t help but fight against it. Saying screw what others think. Voicing how archaic it is for people to just assume it's something untoward cause she's a girl and he's a boy.

Tim saying he’s very handsome boy to her LMAO It’s ok babe she knows you are. Painfully aware of it really. He needs that validation from her and it cracks me up. Not the first or the last time he does this either. Lucy’s ‘oh gag’ Oh please woman. You’d jump his bones in a heartbeat if you could. That look in 5x12 alone when she is checking him out once his shirt is off contradicts this moment so much. Showing what a lying liar she was. But sure let’s pretend you think he is ‘Oh gag’ biggest lie yet my friend haha

This next section is my favorite part. Their battle of wills continues down to the friggin wire. From Lucy calling it aide and Tim saying go-fer. HA Then her battling back with why she wants to be his aide (not go-fer) I LOVE the way he is looking at her while she passionately defends why she wants this. Careful Timothy your feelings of admiration/love are showing. Lucy wants this so badly. People and their thoughts be damned.

She’s impressing him once again and it’s written all over that devilishly handsome face of his. Lucy saying what she could get out of it alone is worth putting up with him and his ways. (Like you don't want to be doing this anyways) D and I talked about how this before. How part of her wanting to be his aide is more than just a promotion. Do I think that is truly part of it? Yes. I have no doubt about that. I also think part of it is the safety and familiarity of Tim.

He supports her in a way she will never get with Nolan. Jackson is gone and all she has left emotionally is her person. Her safe space. So her ‘putting up’ with him again is her really just missing him. Craving that familiarity. They both miss each other and this is a way of getting that back. I think Tim’s initial instinct when Grey brought her up was an immediate yes. Then he got his in his head and wanted to protect her instead of what he wanted. Which was to ride with her again.

Before we continue let’s first note how sexy his biceps and forearms are in this part. The way he crosses his arms in a way that just does things to me. Sex on a stick. Just his arms. Also the forearm porn is fantastic. I’m in a river of drool at this point LMAO Man is so fine it’s unfair really. No one should be this handsome and sexy doing something so simple .*ahem* Anyways I do adore Lucy mirroring his body language. Crossing her arms as well. Still not willing to give into him. Look at the stare down in the third gif.

She is smirking because she's on the verge of victory and knows it. Making Tim be the one to break and go for it with her. It’s funny to think about with S5. Because he HAD to be the one to go for it. They were gonna stay in a holding pattern unless he did. Took the leap and the risk. Just like he does here. He’s contemplating holding out longer. The way he taps his fingers on that delicious bicep deciding. He cracks and says ‘What the hell. Let’s do it.’

Lucy lights up like a Christmas tree. Heart eyes galore for him. Tim tells her to show up to roll call an hour early. That way he can go over new procedures and such with her. Lucy thanks him all smiles and so grateful. She throws down one last work flirt as she is leaving about paperwork. He is just as flirty back with his signal for her to go haha Gah I love these two so much hurts my soul lmao. So much chemistry it blows my damn mind. They’re so into each other and don’t have a damn clue. Ah idiots in love. Truly.

Last bit I adore her shirt ‘Tell your dog I said hi' I would so wear this shirt. Very fitting for Melissa. Love Lucy wearing it. Damn I love that episode one giant flirty moment . S4 truly is a gem. All this suppressed UST/love streaming through 22 episodes.

Side notes-non chenford

I love Aaron and Nyla bonding in this one. I’m so glad she chose James. He was the obvious winner between the two. I love watching them develop they so cute. Aaron fixing things at the end was very lovely.

Thank you as always to those who like, comment (oh how I love the comments) , reblog and such. You are the real MVPs. Shall see you all in 4x04 :)

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