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I am very excited to share a small bite of what's to come for @inu-spiration Tanabata Bang on July 7th, 2024. My artist and I are excited to share what we've created together with you this weekend! Looking forward to all the other creations everyone has been putting their hard work into!❤️
The heat was bordering on unbearable. Kagome’s nose wrinkled. If she could smell the sweat coming off of them all, she couldn't imagine what Inuyasha could smell. She almost felt bad for him… Except neither the weather nor the smell seemed to be bothering him in the least. Her moment of sympathy turned to jealousy. He's in those heavy layers, how is he not boiling like the rest of us? she thought, scowling. And she was even wearing a lightweight kosode and hakama! She had her sleeves tied back which helped a little, yet she could feel that uncomfortable trickle of sweat down the middle of her spine and the sticky cling of her top to her chest. “Oi. There's a river ahead,” Inuyasha called from the front. “Maybe we can set up camp in the woods on the other side and take advantage of the river while we have it.” Given he was being uncharacteristically thoughtful, Kagome stared at Inuyasha in wonder. “What? We can get some fishing in and smoke them to keep. Stretch out the ninja food a bit more.” She supposed he had been more aware of those kinds of things lately. Concern that they all had enough to eat, that they were not without shelter in extreme weather, that the water bottles were clean and full… Like his job as Protector had taken on more facets recently. Kagome felt her jealous irritation with him fade a bit. He was a good guy, after all. She should give him more credit where it was due. “That is a good idea, Inuyasha. Thank you,” she murmured the last so that only he would hear. She watched his ears flick, the way his spine straightened telling her he'd heard her loud and clear. Of course, he wasn’t going to admit that he appreciated the acknowledgement, but she could see that he did. He’d been more aware of her too, lately. A fact that had initially set her on edge. Was he apologizing for something? Was he feeling bad for her because of what happened with the infant? She had been so caught up in her emotions, in trying to rid herself of the darkness it had tried to tease into her heart to fester and grow, she hadn’t sensed his presence at all. Yelling out that she loved him had been the ward she’d needed to finally break its hold on her. The look Inuyasha had given her was so stunned… so pained. She couldn’t handle his pity, so she tried to pretend nothing happened.
GANG I AM SURE IT IS OLD NEWS BUT I HAVE BEEN DOING MATH AND LEMME TELL YOU A FUCKING THING
EXHIBIT A: MITHRUN’S TIMELINE PER THE DUNGEON GUIDE
EXHIBIT B: KABRU’S TIMELINE PER THE DUNGEON GUIDE
EXHIBIT C: MILSIRIL’S COMIC PER THE DUNGEON GUIDE
HYPOTHESIS: Milsiril was bare minimum visiting, caring for, and feeding Mithrun at points in his timeline between year 480 (trying to recover) and 500 (appointed as a captain - this is also noted to have happened immediately when he was fit for work, since they were running out of people)
In the comic, Milsiril specifically references Utaya (year 499, from Kabru’s timeline - it’s the only demon incident in Utaya), as she uses the incident with the demon in Utaya to get Mithrun to eat and get his act together
Kabru lived with Milsiril in the elven capital from year 499 to 510
Milsiril specifically dislikes and avoids other elves… now with the apparent exception of Mithrun, who she thinks she might have quite liked pre-nuking
Milsiril would not want to go to Mithrun’s family estate and deal with his entire family every time to take care of him… and they may not have been keen on her dolls or cooking
The only thing we know about Mithrun and his family is that he hated his brother, and visits him every five years (brother has extended a permanent invitation for Mithrun to visit any time pretty sure Mithrun overestimates how much his brother cared/noticed he didn’t like him)
His parents deadass aren’t mentioned except to note that he’s the bastard child, and his parents ignored his older brother. There’s an implication here that they preferred Mithrun… until they sent him to a death squad
Milsiril has a repeatedly-mentioned tendency to take in strays, usually kids of short-lived peoples, and strong nurturing instincts that may/may not be pretty dehumanizing
CONCLUSION: there is a non-zero chance that Mithrun and Kabru LIVED TOGETHER FOR A FUCKING YEAR post Utaya at Milsiril’s house and just didn’t even fucking notice
I am losing my mind
This is incredible
Mithrun deadass coulda been The Crazy Uncle In The Attic for a full fucking year
He was busy going feral and blaming himself for Utaya cuz it “could have been different” if he’d been there and recovered for the same fucking year THE LAST SURVIVOR OF UTAYA was in the next room
What kind of unhinged interactions did they have
Kabru was fucking SEVEN the state of Mithrun in that comic woulda fucking RETRAUMATIZED HIM any mention of him being a dungeon lord???? NOPE
We know from the changeling incident that Mithrun barely considered Kabru a distinct person so 0% chance he would ever put it together but KABRU
Kabru is an observant little thot and his favourite thing is making assumptions from his observations
Just a MENTION of Milsiril and Kabru shoulda been all up on that
Mithrun FULLY DID mention her as Milsiril the Gloomy when exposing his backstory and Kabru just… tossed every single name in the garbage
(Which, fair. Elves live a long time, the odds of there being only one Milsiril are 0% and she wasn’t all that gloomy with Kabru, and, frankly, he had bigger concerns named Laios Touden)
Ugh too much too many bits Otta’s comic includes them actually talking about his adoptive mom but without names they were SO CLOSE I am going insane
Fanfiction
So much fanfiction
It MUST be post Kabru/Mithrun this ship is all angst and tbh the whole “desiring someone who can’t desire” is only gonna consternate Kabru for so long so once that is done I want a slice of “WAIT A FUCKING SECOND you’re the guy in the attic???????”
╭──────────.★..─╮
*Chapter Eleven*
╰─..★.──────────╯
WC: 6k
Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, toxic elvis, manipulation, drug use, it’s the 50s/60s, dubious consent, painful-difficult-devastating-life-changing-extraordinary love
Pairing: elvis x black reader
Disclaimer: full of inaccuracies, inaccurate timeline, inaccurate depictions of Graceland, historically inaccurate themes and items
Masterlist: Prologue, Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10
You waited day after day for Joel to come back. You sat in the living room most nights hoping that the door would open and it’d be him.
You didn’t know where he was or if he was okay. You called Bibby to check on him and he told you that he’d called off work for an extended time. Bibby sounded more concerned about how many cars he had on the lot than he did about Joel.
You were worried sick and you had no one to talk to about it. You couldn’t talk to anyone, except maybe…
“Hello?”
“Aunt Dawn?” You felt guilty only calling now—now that you were alone.
She sounded confused when she responded. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” You said as you lit a cigarette on the front burner of the stove. “How are you?”
“I’m alright,” She said. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
“Yes.” You sounded too unconvincing not to cave immediately. “I mean, things could be better.”
“What’s going on?”
“…Did you know that Jerry told Elvis where Joel worked?”
You took a drag from your cigarette as you waited for her response, although her hesitation was enough of one.
“I did,” She said eventually. “Why?”
“No reason,” You said. “I just thought you’d tell me.”
“Should I have told you?” Dawn asked.
“Not necessarily.” You felt like you were communicating in some kind of code. “He showed up there…at Joel’s job.”
“I remember.”
“That was when he invited us to Graceland. Remember?”
“I do.”
You fell silent for a moment. “I saw him one night…without Joel.”
Dawn shifted on the other line. “Did you?”
“I did.” Your voice threatened to crack as you held back tears.
She sighed, disappointed. “Does Joel know?”
“I told him.”
“What’d he say?”
“He left a few days ago. I don’t know where he is.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.”
“I-I know that you~ you’re close and he trusts you and I was just wondering if you could get in touch with him?”
“How?”
“…I don’t know.” You closed your eyes and leaned back against the counter. “I don’t know what to do.”
“There’s nothing I can do.”
“I know.” You outed your cigarette and dried your eyes as best you could. “I’m so worried about him, I’m trying everything.”
“I’m sure he’s alright, wherever he is.”
“You’re right.”
“Give him some time, okay?”
“Okay.”
You tried Joel’s parents, they said a few nasty things about you calling but ultimately told you that they hadn’t heard from him.
It had been an entire week before you saw him again. In retrospect, a week away wasn’t a huge ask. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.
You were getting back from visiting Sinclair when you saw his truck in the driveway. He was there, bent over working under the hood.
You pulled in behind him and killed your engine. He didn’t look up from what he was doing until you approached.
He stood up straight, squinting against the sun. “Hey.”
“Hi,” You said. You didn’t know what to say. “Is there something wrong with her?”
“Just needed some brake fluid.” He wiped his hands on a dirty towel.
“Where were you?” You asked.
“Bibby’s.” He shrugged. “You?”
“Sinclair’s.”
He sighed, looking down at his hands. “We should talk.”
You nodded in agreement. “Okay.”
He threw the towel down before dropping the hood of the truck. He gestured towards the porch and you led the way. You sat on the top step, Joel sitting one step down resting his elbows on his knees.
“That starter’s gettin ready to go,” He said, breaking the silence. “I shoulda changed it a while ago, it’s an old thing, so…”
Silence settled over the two of you again.
“I don’t know what I’m sayin,” He muttered, pushing his hair away from his face. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say anything,” You insisted. “I’m listening.”
“I talked to him,” He said after a beat. “Elvis.”
“You did?” You asked, panicked. “What’d he say?”
“He called me at work,” Joel said. “…said Dawn told ‘im to.”
For a moment you imagined how both those conversations must’ve gone, but you were more concerned with what Joel was saying. You wanted to lean forward and inspect his expression more closely. Was he upset that you talked to Dawn?
“He didn’t say much,” He continued. “I didn’t want to hear anything from him, but…he said Dawn was worried about you, s-so I came to make sure you were alright.”
You nodded your head.
“Are you?”
“Yeah, I’m alright.”
The silence that filled the uncomfortable beats between his words made it hard for you to breathe.
You wanted terribly to comfort him in some way but you couldn’t find the nerve as you watched him struggle to keep his emotions at bay. You’d never seen him so upset and it made you sick knowing that you were the reason.
“He said I should try to make things right with you and that it wasn’t your fault, but I don’t know if I can. I-It’s just…I-I guess I thought I knew who you were, who we were…but now it feels like I don’t know anything.” He fidgeted restlessly, trying to articulate his feelings clearly. “There’s this entire part of your life that you never told me about.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Because you still love him?”
“Because I couldn’t tell anyone.”
Joel met your eyes and you fully saw his expression for what it was. “Tell me now.”
You couldn’t bear the pain in his eyes. “I can’t.”
“Why?” He shifted towards you.
“I don’t want to think about that time in my life. When we ran into each other I had been trying to forget everything from before. Because it hurt too much to remember. I loved him and he hurt me.”
“Then why did you go back?”
“Because I felt…” Your pulse soared and your breath caught in your throat. You struggled to breathe but you still forced yourself to say the words. “I-I felt like he took something from me, a-and I thought I could recapture that lost part of myself somehow. But as soon as I was near him, I… I felt seventeen again. I didn’t go there with these intentions. I thought I could show him that I was in control a-and that I was happy and doing well—despite him.”
Joel remained silent as he watched you stumble through your explanation.
“I know I kept it from you but it’s the only thing I’ve ever kept from you. Everything else is real, I’m still me. What happened, it was my fault. But I swear I’ve never been more sorry about anything in my life.”
Joel’s expression remained hard, his eyebrows drawn—conflicted. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
You casted your eyes downward. You failed to combat your tears, batting them away uselessly.
“I don’t know if I can work past this.” He worried his lip as he spoke. He stared off in thought for a moment before a humorless laugh left his lips. “I keep thinking about that day…when I first saw you at Graceland with Dawn.”
That first day instantly replayed in your mind. You had relived the day so many times—hyper-focused on your interactions with Elvis. Your memory wasn’t too clouded by him to remember Joel, freshly eighteen, rushing out of the house to meet Dawn. He shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of the memory.
“I love you.”
“Tell me you don’t love him.”
“I love you.”
“This entire time you’ve been in love with him.”
“Can’t someone love more than one person?”
Joel’s eyes narrowed in hurt and he stood up from the steps. “Sure. Just not at my expense, that’s all.”
“I don’t know why I said that.” You rushed to follow him as he stormed into the house. “I love you, Joel. I choose you.”
“You choose me.” He chuckled humorlessly. He walked into the kitchen and snatched the refrigerator open to grab a beer.
“I made a mistake. I-I messed up and I’m sorry. I only want to be with you. I love you.”
He sighed and leaned back against the counter as he cracked open the beer in his hand. He tapped the metal cap against the counter with a distant expression.
“I need to think,” He finally said before straightening up and leaving the kitchen without another word.
You watched him go to the living room and drop into the crease of the sofa. He turned on the television and watched it in a slump as he gulped his beer.
You silently retreated to the bedroom with unshed tears in your eyes.
There was a distance between the two of you that grew as the days wore on. Joel spent most of his time at work. He’d leave early before you woke up and get in late after you’d gone to bed.
No matter how many days passed without saying a word to each other, Joel insisted that you keep up appearances with Sinclair and Marcus. He didn’t want them knowing about your issues, he didn’t speak about them to Bibby either.
You went along with it, for him. You didn’t exactly feel comfortable discussing it with Sinclair and Marcus either.
However, it didn’t make it any easier to tolerate his distance when he would suddenly speak to you and treat you nicely around them. It didn’t help that he kept up his image as a doting fiancé in front of your friends only to turn around and not speak a word to you.
No matter how much it hurt, you tried to endure—hoping that the two of you would eventually reach some state of normalcy.
“What?”
You kept your back to the door as you slipped off your shoes with tears in your eyes. Joel sighed before you heard him walk into the bathroom. He killed the shower and returned.
“What is it?” He asked.
You batted your tears away and stood to walk to the closet. “I don’t want to fight.”
“Who’s fighting?” He asked, following you to the closet. “Why’re you crying?”
You dropped your shoes and grabbed something to sleep in. As you made to walk past him he blocked you in with his arm. “You know why I’m crying.”
“I don’t,” He argued. “I thought we had a good night.”
“What, a good night of you pretending that you want anything to do with me?” You narrowed your eyes and pushed past him. You threw your pajamas down on the bed before turning to the dresser to remove your jewelry. “It was a wonderful night if you consider that a good time.”
“I was just trying to~”
“It doesn’t matter,” You said, snatching your earrings out. “I can’t take this anymore.”
“What?” Joel asked, his voice nearer.
“This!” You faced him. “I can’t take this. Constantly feeling like I’m being punished by you. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”
He remained silent and you sighed, defeated. You turned to continue getting undressed. You slipped the rings from your fingers and unclasped the necklaces from around your neck before reaching back to unzip your dress. You fumbled with the zipper, huffing in aggravation when it got jammed. “Can you~”
“Yeah~”
“It’s stuck~”
“I see.” His fingers replaced yours on the zipper and he worked out the kink before gliding it down your spine.
You expected him to step away then but he didn’t. He slipped the fabric of your dress from your shoulders and let it pool around your feet. You turned your head to look at him and found his eyes already on yours. The sudden change of pace took you by surprise and for a moment you were touch-starved enough not to care. However, another thought consumed your mind the moment it entered it.
“What happened?” You asked just as his lips grazed yours.
“What?” He asked, his eyebrows twitching in confusion.
“What changed?” You didn’t feel exposed as you stood in your underwear—searching his eyes for the truth. “I thought it was a part of the act, I thought you were just dedicated to the role of a delicate fiancé because you didn’t want Sinclair and Marcus to suspect anything. But I see now that the entire night you’ve just been buttering me up to sleep with you.”
“Are you serious?”
“I want to know what put you in such a good mood that you’d suddenly look past everything and fuck me. Or should I ask who?”
“….I can’t believe you’d even ask me that.”
You pressured him to answer. “Something changed. What is it?”
“Maybe I just feel like it.”
You crossed your arms. “Can we talk?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“No?” Your eyebrows drew together slightly.
“No,” He repeated. “Because I still feel the same.”
“How do you feel?” You asked in a whisper.
His jaw tightened once again and he fell silent, not answering.
“We can talk to someone.”
“I don’t want to talk to anyone.”
“It could help,” You insisted. “We could talk to someone licensed to deal with this kind of thing.”
“I don’t want to talk,” He said firmly. His hands trailed around your waist and he pulled your body against his.
You shivered and parted your lips in a silent gasp as he kissed your neck, then your collarbone. “…J-Joel~”
He silenced you with a kiss—his lips moved against yours intensely for a moment before he pulled away. You were overwhelmed by his touch. He stepped forward until he forced you onto the bed, littering your neck with heated kisses once again.
Despite the way your body reacted you wanted to stop him—you didn’t want things to happen like this. The longer you went without actually talking about your feelings the more the distance between you seemed to grow.
He was finally speaking to you after days and you wanted to take the opportunity to discuss what really mattered.
“Joel.” You tried again, pressing your palms against his chest.
“Don’t ruin it,” He said breathlessly as he slipped his hand between your legs. “It’s okay.”
Your brain short circuited and you moaned brokenly. It wasn't okay, nothing was okay—but it felt good.
You swore in discomfort when he entered you but it was brief.
A sensation washed over you that caused your lips to part in a silent scream. His movements weren’t gentle or even familiar. You hadn’t seen this side of him. In all the time you had been together he had only made sweet love to you. This was something else entirely.
You felt like there was nothing tactile holding you to the earth as he fucked you so far into oblivion that you didn’t care if you ever felt grounded again.
You couldn’t register much outside of the intensity of the moment, but you felt Joel’s warmth deep inside of you when he came. He collapsed beside you and for a moment there was only the sounds of your labored breathing. He sat up eventually, tucking himself back into the jeans that he never took off. “You okay?”
You nodded, weakly pushing yourself into a sitting position. “I’m fine. I’m just gonna…”
“Yeah…okay.”
You stood from the bed and walked to the bathroom on unsteady legs. You cleaned up and slipped your bathrobe on before going back into the bedroom. When you returned, Joel was still sitting on the edge of the bed.
You sat with your back against the headboard, pulling your knees up.
“I’m sorry if I~”
“It’s okay.”
He nodded, looking off for a moment. “I’ll stay.”
He knew you too well. “Okay.”
He stood and walked into the bathroom. The shower ran for a long time before he returned. He didn’t say anything as he discarded his dirty clothes in the hamper and joined you in bed.
You fell asleep in his arms, and when you woke the next morning, he was gone.
*
“I’m leaving.”
“…Oh?”
Joel stood across the living room watching the rain pick up outside. He kept his arms folded across his chest—guarded. But something about his tone was more vulnerable than you’d heard in weeks.
You met him in the living room, sitting sideways on the couch so that you were facing him. He kept his back to you but continued when you didn’t respond.
“I‘ve been making arrangements.”
“What arrangements?”
“Bibby offered me a job in New York. It’s more behind the scenes and he’d pay me more for relocating.”
You waited for him to continue but he didn’t this time. “New York?” You prompted.
He faced you then—you couldn’t dissect his expression. “The offer just became solid today.”
“And you…don’t want me to come?” You asked, fearing that what you were seeing was reluctance.
“No, I don’t want you to come,” He said, confirming your doubts. “I’m sorry.”
“Joel…I-I know things haven’t been the best between~”
“That’s an understatement~”
“We can fix it.”
“It can’t be fixed. You…you broke my heart. Do you understand that?” You stood and tried to speak but he cut you off and continued. “You made your decision, now I have to make mine.”
“You’re running away? Just like that?”
“What am I supposed to do?”
Panic and anxiety swelled in your chest at the thought of Joel leaving you and moving to New York.
“You’ll have time to figure everything out. We don’t have to rush into selling the house.”
Your eyes burned with tears. “We don’t have to…”
He avoided your pain filled expression. “I have to.”
You could tell by the tears threatening to form in his eyes that the decision wasn’t one that he’d come to easily.
“I’m gonna tell Bibby I’ll go.” He sighed as he walked away. “It’s for the best.”
Elvis called you to apologize upon hearing the news from Dawn—you had been drinking your sorrows like usual when you answered the phone.
“Dawn told me what happened,” He said. He sounded remorseful. “I-I didn’t mean f-for things to turn out like this. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” You tried to sound sober, instead your voice was flat and shallow—and still obviously drunk. “It’s my fault.”
“I shouldn’t have pressured you,” He said. “I tried to tell Joel that it wasn’t your fault~”
“Of course it was my fault,” You snapped. “God, why are we even talking about this?”
“I feel horrible.”
“I’m sure you do…”
You sighed as silence settled over the line. You closed your eyes, waiting excruciatingly for him to say something.
“Maybe you should stay with Dawn in Memphis until you get things sorted out for yourself again.”
“What’s staying with Dawn gonna change?”
“I can put you up in your own place if you come back.”
“No.”
“Birdie~”
“I can’t go back to Memphis.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re drunk at eleven in the morning, honey.”
You glanced halfheartedly at the time. The curtains were still drawn and the house was cold and silent. It could have been any hour.
“I hate when you do this.”
“What?”
“You go around creating all these problems and swoop in to fix them like you’re the good guy.”
“…Can I do anything?”
You wished there was something that could be done about the miserable feeling in your gut. Your chest hurt from the amount of cigarettes you’d gone through and you were nauseous from the vodka-doused wine concoction you had going.
“I should be alone,” You said. “I deserve to be alone.”
“You made one mistake.”
“It was a lot of little mistakes that led up to one big one.”
“That still doesn’t mean you deserve to be punished,” Elvis argued.
“My life is ruined.”
“How can you say that?”
You struggled to internalize your emotions, picturing them retreating to a small corner in the back of your mind instead of erupting outwardly. You wanted them to go back inside until they were nothing, until they couldn’t hurt you anymore.
“What can I do?”
“I figured it out on my own before, I’ll do it again.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do.”
“I’ll take care of you.”
“I’m not coming back to Memphis.”
“Why not?”
You couldn’t believe you had to explain.
“Because I don’t want to get caught up in your bullshit again, Elvis,” You said. “I don’t want to fall into the same routine. The fighting, the constant back and forth—it’s fruitless and repetitive. I want to actually live my life. That’s why.”
“You can live your life,” He said. “I’m not gonna lock you up once you get here.”
“Sure.”
“…It could be different this time.”
“‘Could be?’”
He fell silent for a moment. “It can be different.”
You waited for him to continue but he didn’t. “I don’t want to play those games anymore.”
“No games, then. No fighting—I mean it.” His voice was low and sincere. “Come back to Graceland.”
You shook your head. You wanted to, of course you did. You were in love with Joel but you loved Elvis all the same. It hurt—it made you feel fickle.
“I can’t.”
“What’s stopping you?”
You couldn’t tell if you were awake or dreaming when Elvis showed up at the house in the following days. He had made his appearance discrete, you didn’t know it was him when the black impala pulled into the drive. It was late and he came alone—only him and his driver. He didn’t say anything when you let him inside. You shut the door and leaned back against it as he stood before you. He seemed out of place and too grand for the room.
You must’ve flinched when he moved towards you, or retracted in some way, because he stopped. It was silent and you refused to meet his eyes. The silence was tense, like the air after a bad fight.
“What do you want me to do?” He asked when the quiet became unbearable.
“You shouldn’t be here. It’s not right.”
“I came for you.”
“You shouldn’t’ve.”
He didn’t respond, instead he turned and walked further into the house. He noticed the boxes full of your things crowding the living room.
“You’re packing?”
“He’s selling the house.”
“Where are you gonna go?” He faced you when you didn’t answer. “I want to help.”
You were offended. “I don’t need your help.”
“I don’t care if you need it or want it, birdie, that’s the thing,” He said, frustrated. “I don’t want to spend another year wondering what the hell happened to you. So you can go anywhere in the world, alright? Just let me make sure you get there.”
“You say that like it’s so easy.”
“I don’t care if it’s easy, I care if you get there in one piece.”
He had neared you again, taking slow steps until he stood directly in front of you.
“Do you want me to take you to Dawn?”
“No.”
“Wilmington?”
“No.”
“Where? Somewhere around here? D’you want the house? I’ll get it for you.”
“No, Elvis.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know. None of this feels real.”
You didn’t move away when he reached out and took your face in his hands. He made you meet his eyes, searching yours for a moment before his lips were inching towards yours.
You spoke before your lips met. “Not here. Please.”
He sighed and pressed his forehead against yours. His thumbs stroked the apples of your cheeks. “Tell me what to do.”
You closed your eyes, your hands moving to clutch the front of his shirt. You knew better than to give in to him so easily, but you were vulnerable. You wanted him to make you disappear. “I want it to be like it never happened…like none of it ever happened.”
“Okay.”
“It’s not okay.”
You were crying now but Elvis wouldn’t let you pull away. He dried your tears with the pads of his thumbs.
“Why can’t it be okay?”
“We can’t~”
“We can do whatever we want.”
You pulled away enough to really meet his eyes. He was being serious.
“Why did you come here, E?” You asked, suddenly grounded enough to question his motives. He was always that way—calculated and two steps ahead.
“I was worried about you.”
“And?”
“And I was hoping I could convince you to come back to Memphis with me…as my girl.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m choosing you, birdie. If you’ll let me.”
You weren’t sure how to react. There was a part of you that was elated enough to cry, but it was overshadowed by the crushing feeling you had that he’d let you down. He’d get you back to Graceland and you’d be back in a predicament that you had escaped—for hardly enough time to matter. You still loved him just as much as you did a year ago—if not more after rekindling.
You had pulled his hooks out but you hadn’t gotten out of arm's reach. One wrong move and he’d sink them right back in. The scariest part of it all was that you almost longed for him to do so. You wanted the satisfaction of watching it all happen before your eyes, slowly and painfully. You wanted him to tear you apart, bit by bit, and leave you broken—you wanted to do it for the thrill of watching something crumble so perfectly.
“You don’t want me.” You meant it as a warning—no one deserved to put up with you.
“You’re all I want, little bit.” He tapped your chin. “I’ll prove it to you if you come with me.”
He laughed in a nervous way when he said it—his expression genuinely hopeful.
“You don’t have to,” He said in the wake of your silence. “Like I said, anything you want. Anywhere you want to go.”
You didn’t say anything. For a while you stood there silently deciding what your next move should be. You didn’t have anything to lose, your pride and dignity had been exerted and you were feeling hopeless.
“…Can we leave now?”
“We can leave right now.”
You packed your clothes in your luggage and Elvis helped the driver put them in the trunk. You left your key and engagement ring on the counter for Joel, you wanted to leave a note but there was nothing to say.
“We’ll send somebody for it,” Elvis said in response when you asked about the rest of your things. “It’ll be out in time.”
“Okay,” You said as he led you out of the front door. You paused, looking around the house. It wasn’t lived in anymore, but there were traces of your life with Joel all throughout the place. From the barely there wine stain on the middle cushion of the couch to the knick in the wooden frame of the door from when you moved it in. You were saying goodbye to a life that had barely gotten started. Elvis stopped when he noticed your hesitation.
“Hey,” He said, making you face him. “I got you, okay?”
“Okay,” You repeated.
He kissed your forehead and led you out of the house once and for all. You climbed into the back seat of his impala, trying not to think about anything too much. If you did, you’d have a breakdown.
“It’s only an hour flight.”
“Flight?”
“Yeah, it’s quicker.”
You must’ve looked uneasy—he asked you if flying still made you nervous.
“I don’t do it enough to get past the nerves, I guess,” You said. “It’s fine, I’ll manage.”
“I’ll just give you something,” He said, reaching into the pocket of his slacks and retrieving an amber, 10 dram pill bottle. “It should help.”
“I’ll never see this house again,” You said, looking out the window longingly. “Nothing’s ever going to be the same. It’s over.”
“Take this.” He turned your head and dropped the pill into your mouth. “Hold it under your tongue.”
“What’s going to happen?”
“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll take care of you.”
He put his arm over your shoulders and kissed your temple. You leaned into his touch and closed your eyes, swallowing your bitter saliva as the pill dissolved under your tongue.
“Am I a horrible person?” You asked sometime into the drive.
“No,” Elvis responded. “You can’t help who you love, can you?”
“No.”
“Do you love me?”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t beat yourself up about the situation. It had to happen.”
“But Joel~”
“He’s a kid, birdie. He’ll get over it.”
It didn’t matter what Elvis said, or that he had seemingly convinced Jerry of the same thing. You knew Joel, and you knew that he’d take time to work through his feelings. You knew that a part of him would never fully heal.
You wanted to feel bad, you did feel bad deep down past the artificial calm spreading over you. You got to the airport and the two of you were escorted directly onto a private plane. Things happened fast, which you were thankful for.
“You okay?” Elvis checked as you took your seats, keeping your hand in his all the while.
“I’m okay,” You said. “Are you?”
“I’m perfect now that I’m with you,” He said, bringing you with him when he sat down instead of having you take your own seat.
You looked over your shoulder to be sure the cabin was empty and the plane suddenly jolted into motion. Elvis laughed at your expression and put a protective arm around you.
“Aw, birdie,” He said. “It’ll level out eventually.”
“Not helping.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Distract me.”
The hand of his free arm traveled up your thigh and he kissed your cheek. You knew what the sudden influx of ‘harmless’ kisses meant. Once upon a time, you favored this particular tell of his the most.
“I think I know what kind of distraction you need,” He said, kissing the shell of your ear.
“On the plane?” You squirmed away from his touch, laughing prudishly at the thought.
“Haven’t you heard of the mile high club?” He asked, unbuckling the front of your coat and pushing it off your shoulders. He maneuvered you so that you straddled him, letting the coat fall to the ground.
You protested but you leaned into his touch when he kissed your exposed collar bone. You would’ve stopped him had the medication in your system not loosened your ambiguity—leaving you feeling light and euphoric. His touch erupted into a thousand tingles against your skin and you were practically vibrating with desire.
“People do it,” He said, kissing your neck. “Something about the altitude.”
You looked over your shoulder again, trying to stop him. “Elvis…someone might see.”
He stopped, looking up at you with a lustful expression. “There’s no one but us until we land, baby.”
You laughed but the sound was immediately cut short by a moan when he slipped his hand under the skirt of your dress.
“…This is wrong,” You weren’t focused on the words as you said them, all you could focus on was the way his fingers grazed you through the thin material of your underwear. “I want to do the right thing.”
“Does it feel good?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s right.”
He sat back in his seat, his hands rubbing your thighs before traveling up your sides and back. You released a low groan as he fingers pressed into your taught muscles. He massaged the tension out of your shoulders and kissed you slowly. Your eyes fell shut and you leaned into him.
“It’s okay,” He reassured you, one arm securely around your back while the other worked out the knot in your neck. You hadn’t realized how tense you were.
You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp the way he always liked. You weren’t satisfied with the low groan he released and shifted to apply more pressure to his growing erection. The sound he released when you moved your hips was satisfactory. He took your face in his hands and looked at you.
“I love you,” He whispered, his voice almost lost in the mechanical hum of the plane’s engines. “I won’t ever let you go again. I promise.”
“You love me?”
“Yes. Don’t ask me why.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t tell you all the reasons.”
You kissed him again. “Is this real?”
He wrapped both arms around your torso and hugged your body against his. “It’s real.”
“Feels like I’m dreaming.”
“You aren’t. You’re here, with me. Be here with me.”
You opened your eyes. He looked at you with an intensity behind his expression that made you shiver—the world fell away like it always used to. It was familiar and all thoughts that weren’t concerning him vanished. You felt like you were falling in love for the first time all over again.
You didn’t notice that he’d unbuckled his trousers and freed himself until you felt him prodding at your entrance. You tensed initially but relaxed as he pushed your panties aside and entered you. You whimpered at the stretch—groaning when he was fully seated inside.
You stayed that way for a while, connected and unmoving until his hands eventually continued roaming your body. His breath mingled with yours as he thrusted to meet your movements, making your toes curl in your shoes. You were instantly on the verge of peaking—in every regard.
“Can I, please?” You trembled against him, your abdomen constricting as you anticipated your high.
“Why would I say no?” The pleasure was too intense, you didn’t know whether to chase it or run away. Elvis groaned as you finished, following with a suppressed grunt—your name growling deep in his chest.
He swore under his breath, grabbing your chin with his clean hand and kissing your lips. “You’re adorable.”
He patted your thigh and you stood, unsteadily.
“Stay,” He instructed before going into the bathroom. He returned with a damp towel, wiping his hands clean before helping you. “Take ‘em off.”
You laughed as he slipped your panties down your legs, holding his shoulders as you stepped out of them.
“Uh, uh,” He said when you reached for them, pulling them away. “They’re mine.”
“What are you gonna do with them?”
“Commemorate the moment.”
You finished cleaning up before retaking your seat. The last of the flight blew by—the two of you clinging to each other the entire time. Before you knew it you were arriving in Memphis. You saw all the cameras but it still took you a moment to realize what was happening.
“Elvis,” You said as you took in the scene outside the window of the plane. It was dark but the lights illuminating the runway made everything clear. “What’s happening?”
“We’re going home,” He said smugly. He stood with you but you sat back down. “Come on, baby.”
You shook your head. “You go first.”
He laughed, taking your hand and helping you out of the seat. “Let’s go together.”
“E.P.?” Sonny showed up—his eyes found yours briefly, but he looked away immediately. “Car’s ready.”
“I’m not gonna stop this time, straight there,” Elvis said to him before glancing you over, tapping your chin fondly. “Let’s go, little bit.”
Your stomach turned with anxiety. “W-What if they don’t like me?”
He shrugged. “I guess we’ll all just lay down and die.”
You couldn’t help but smile as he kissed your cheek and led you off of the plane. At first all you could hear were voices, but soon all sounds were replaced by your heart hammering in your ears. You would’ve froze, if it weren’t for Elvis’ arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. You had feared the look on people’s faces when they saw the two of you together—now, however, you couldn’t make out anything aside from the wild flashes.
There were numerous barricades up to keep the crowd at bay, but there was still security to stop the few desperate freelancers that slipped through. Everything happened so fast—one minute you were there being photographed by dozens of people and the next you were in the back of the car. Elvis signaled the driver and the car lurched into motion.
“You okay?” He asked, helping you out of your coat and hat.
“So intense,” You said, heaving a sigh when you were free.
He reached over to place your jacket on the seat behind you. “You’re not too shook up, are you?”
You smiled and leaned into him. “A little.”
“Well, it’s over now,” He said, putting his arm around you. “You’re safe and sound.”
“Yeah, but…” You hesitated but quickly overcame your unsureness. “I still need something to calm my nerves.”
“Is that so?” The smirk on his face deepened.
“Mhm.” You don’t know if it was the rush of the paparazzi or if you were still riding some high from your activities on the plane. Regardless of the reason, you wanted him again—right then and there.
He laughed when you placed your hand on his inner thigh. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the small pill bottle. “Best I can do for now.”
You pouted as he opened the bottle and shook a pill out. He bit it in half, prompting you to open your mouth before placing one half on your tongue. You were already buzzing from the half before the flight. “Is that the best you can do?”
He glanced at the driver through the partition as he grabbed a bottled water from the cup holders. “I don’t want to disturb our friend.”
You followed his gaze, taking a swig from the bottle after him. “I think he’d have a good time.”
He didn’t pull away when you kissed him—blindly taking the water and capping it off before dropping it on the ground. His hand hooked onto the bend of your knee and pulled you closer. You were practically straddling him as the two of you attempted to consume one another.
“E.P.?”
He barely pulled away. “What?”
“10-12.”
“Okay?”
“Colonel doesn’t want any photos.”
Elvis sighed glancing up in aggravation. “Tell the Colonel that there’s nothing he can do about that.”
“But~”
“Straight through, boss.”
The driver nodded and put the partition back up. Elvis groaned, pulling away with a final kiss on your cheek.
“Pull yourself together, dirty bird,” He said, helping you back into your coat. “We don’t want to let these people see you on your knees for me just yet.”
“What does the Colonel think of all this, E?”
You hadn’t thought to ask. With everything happening so quickly you barely had a chance to process what was going on, let alone form any questions.
“Don’t worry about the Colonel.”
You didn’t like that response. You knew people would be opposed to the idea, but you weren’t prepared to face the Colonel. You didn’t want to face him.
“He doesn’t know,” You said. “Does he?”
“He will soon enough,” Elvis said. “Along with everybody else. You said no secrets.”
“I didn’t expect this…he’ll never allow this.”
“I don’t need anyone’s permission to be with you.” He blindly straightened his hair and slipped a pair of shades on despite the late hour. “I didn’t bring you all this way to hope for his approval.”
You stopped him when he leaned in for a kiss and he opted for kissing your neck instead.
When you finally arrived at Graceland the streets outside of the gate were flooded. There had to be at least a hundred people gathered—some were holding signs, some were holding cameras, and some were holding back tears. They stood shouting at the car as it inched through the ruckus. You tried to get a better look at what the signs were saying but Elvis stopped you.
“Don’t pay them any mind, doll,” He said, putting his arm over your shoulder. He pulled you into his side and kissed your temple. Something hit the window, startling you and making Elvis lean forward to snap at the driver. “Can’t they get somebody to clear the goddamn gate?”
“I think they’re trying.”
“Tell ‘em try harder.”
While Elvis went back and forth with him, you peaked outside again. You immediately wished you hadn’t when you caught a glimpse of what was written on the signs.
“O-Oh my god,” You stammered under your breath.
“Birdie.” He took your face in his hands, forcing you to look away. “I told you not to look.”
“Oh my god~”
“Don’t worry about them, honey, they’re just stuck in their ways~”
“‘Stuck in their ways?’”
He shushed you, trying to meet your eyes. “Don’t let them see you cryin. They’re gonna have to come around, like everyone else.”
You shook your head, willing your tears away. “I knew this would happen. They hate me.”
“They can’t hate you,” He said. “They don’t even know you. It’s just how it’s gonna be at first.”
Another object slammed against the window—you clung to him. “I’m scared.”
“You don’t have to worry, darlin, we’re gonna pull right up to the door…” His voice started fading into the background and the sound of the chaos outside took over. “You hear me?”
Your body nodded reflexively but you couldn’t focus on anything but the crying, screaming faces of the people outside.
“Keep your head down and I’ll lead right inside and upstairs. How’s that sound?”
Another disconnected nod.
“Talk to me, baby.”
“…That sounds fine.”
He reassured you again that everything was okay as the car eventually got through the crowd and was able to stop.
When you got out of the vehicle you could hear the cameras flickering in a frenzy but you kept your head down as he led you up the steps. You expected the chaos to die down once inside, however you were met by an angry Colonel.
“Elvis Presley~”
“I’ll deal with you in the morning,” Elvis said, attempting to lead you upstairs.
“You get her out of this house, immediately!”
“What?”
“You heard me!”
“This is my goddamn house!”
You closed your eyes as they shouted back and forth.
“This, what you’re doing, it’s…it’s suicide,” Parker said, he was practically fuming. If you had looked up you would’ve been met by his harsh glare. “If you insist on keeping the girl, I will be forced to leave you.”
“Then I’ll be forced to let you go.”
“After everything I’ve done for you?”
“Everything you’ve done…go upstairs, birdie.” He looked at Jerry. “Take her.”
You let Jerry lead you upstairs, his hand barely gracing the small of your back as he did so. When you got to Elvis’ room he let you in before following behind. You walked over to the bed and sat down. You couldn’t get the images out of your head.
Jerry walked over to the minibar in the corner and poured you a drink. Something dark and straight.
“I shouldn’t.”
“It’ll take the edge off at least.”
You took the glass. You stood as you took a sip, setting it on the bedside table so you could remove your coat.
“He should be up any minute.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled briefly and was gone. You took some time to walk around the room. You entered the closet to find numerous items of women’s clothing. The tags still hung from them as if they were either brand new or never worn. It made you think that he had prepared in advance for your arrival. He must’ve not had a doubt in his mind that you’d come back with him.
The bedroom door opened and you were met with Elvis’ fired up expression when you left the closet.
“Elvis,” You started. “Calm down~”
“Do not try to reel me in right now, birdie~”
“It’s okay.”
“How can you fucking say that?”
You walked over to him. “I’m sorry. I-I just~ I don’t want you to be upset.”
He sighed as you hugged him, noticing the empty glass on the table. “Jerry fixed you a drink?”
You looked up at him. “What if he’s right? It’s not worth it.”
He shushed you, sitting you down on the bed. You waited for his response but he fell silent. He removed your shoes and guided you to lay down. You stopped him before he moved away.
“Don’t leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He laid down and took you in his arms.
“What’s going to happen, E?”
“I have no idea.”
Title: Hanno WC: 800
“Can you think of any reason for the change?” — Kate Beckett, Poof! You’re Dead (3 x 12)
He has been trying hard with Gina for a while now. He’d prefer not to put a start date on what constitutes a while. He fears there are no good answers there. His mind seeks them out anyway.
Since before the holidays. A while certainly extends at least that far back, and that doesn’t feel great. The holidays themselves were anything but great with Gina’s fussy tastes casting a pall over the festivities on the home front, and his utter lack of enthusiasm for four solid weeks of business-related holiday parties, each more tedious than the last. And the idea of keeping it together solely for the sake of not rocking the boat until the holidays were over is about the least Richard Castle thing he’s ever heard. But he’s been trying hard.
That, it pains him to say, is probably the runner up in the Least Richard Castle Pageant. That’s new, the burn of his cheeks and the way his eyes seek the ground when he thinks about how very unhim trying has been when it comes to relationships. But that’s been his playboy brand since Meredith—since the end of Kyra, really, and now is a really bad time to think too long or too deeply about when that era ended.
But it’s impossible not to think about, because truthfully, it goes back well before the holidays. It predates, by a long shot, him gritting his teeth and pretending to like her French Laundry–inspired stuffing with organ meats and raisins, rather than white bread cubes and margarine. It stretches back beyond Veteran’s Day and Halloween and National Kevin Day. It stretches back, in fact, to the autumnal equinox and the exact moment that he learned that Detective Deming was no longer darkening Detective Beckett’s doorstep.
There’s not much point in feigning ignorance of the timeline. There’s even less point in denying the fact that at that exact moment, he was ready to enthusiastically kick Gina to the curb. And at the exact moment after that, some kind of long-term trajectory had appeared in his head. He couldn’t see the whole of it then. He still can’t see the whole of it now, but he has navigated by instinct from the moment that—Demming or no Demming—he had to try with Gina, that to do any less would somehow be breaking faith with her—with the suddenly (or maybe not so suddenly) single Detective Beckett.
This is the truth of it—the irony—that he sits uncomfortably with now. Because he woulda, coulda, shoulda stopped trying with Gina at some undetermined point before the holidays. If he’d ever been in the habit of working at relationships he might not have wandered blind around this for so long. He might have recognized the points of inflection where the two of them going their separate ways made the most sense.
But he’s never been in the habit, and the road has been hard. It’s still hard, even though he understands that he’s come to the critical moment where he’ll answer the phone, he’ll resist the petty tendrils that have bound he and Gina tightly and unhappily together. He will make the break he should have made weeks ago, the first time he caught himself thinking What’s the harm? She’s with Josh anyway.
That absolutely should have been the critical moment, and yet it’s only been today, just this afternoon, that the next critical bit of the long-term trajectory in his had unfolded. Just as he’d stood, a hair’s breadth away from kissing her, a vast new expanse of it had unfolded.
He still can’t see the whole of it. The edges are ragged and tucked in on themselves. Much of it still bears the legend: Here Be Dragons. (Probably. Maybe. Some days, definitely.) He doesn’t know where this ends up, and there’s almost no part of him that feels relieved when he tells Gina, in no uncertain terms, that it’s over. He is . . . regretful, if not actively hurting, as she is.
He wishes, if he is honest, that he and Gina had not drifted through the might as well summer together. He wishes that he were with Kate—that the two of them had found a way to fight through early summer’s mixed signals and missed messages. He wishes they had not been the victims of such terrible timing, He wishes the two of them had rung in the new year together with champagne and stupid movies.
All this is true, if he’s honest, and yet it’s also true that he’s not sorry he tried to be with Gina—that he was as pleasant as he could be. He knows with absolute clarity the road forward, but he’s not sorry that he’s learned to try.
A/N: National Kevin Day is a thing. This is not.
images via homeofthenutty
