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stevie-petey · 6 months

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episode one: the vanishing of will byers

Steve nods, as if you almost getting hit by his car makes perfect sense to him. When you walk over to your bike and inspect it for any damage, he follows after you. “So,” he whistles, trying to pretend that this is all a completely normal occurrence. “You, uh, need a ride?” Honestly you don’t know why you’re surprised he hasn’t noticed the clear signs of you crying, your swollen eyes and red nose. Not only is he a boy, but he’s also Steve Harrington. It’s a miracle he even stopped to make sure you weren’t dead.

summary: jonathan smuggles you free food in exchange for friendship, will goes missing the one time you listen to jonathan, hopper doesn't really like you, and steve harrington almost hits you with his car as you're sobbing like a damn baby (in a cool way).

rating: general, although there's plenty of cursing and slight innuendos, so fair warning.

warnings: cursing, fem!reader, and use of y/n.

words: 7k

before you swing in: hello ! this is the first chapter of my come home series, where i plan on rewriting the entirety of stranger things because i really love a good rewrite fic and this is me just indulging in my ideal fic fantasies tbh. before we start: this is a steve x reader fic, however there will be some slight feelings between the reader and jonathan because, but it doesn't at all get in the way of steve and honestly just adds to the angst because i love a good tragedy. also, reader is dustin's older sister, but i tried to write her as neutral as possible in terms of physical features, so let's all just play along. that is all ! i'm very excited for this series and i hope y'all enjoy her as much as i do :)

November 6th, 1983

Your shift at Bookstrordinary ends at 8:30 tonight, so as soon as you’ve organized all the books within the store and cashed out the last customer, you say goodnight to your boss, Mrs. Waters, and clock out. Today had been a longer shift, and it didn’t help that you had to deal with a particularly eager bookclub mother who insisted that you had the latest copy of some obscure novel that she needed for her club. After several attempts to inform her that no, you really didn’t have some novel about a cowboy falling in love with a rodeo girl from Michigan, nor would you ever want to read that, the mother angrily walked away.

You’re happy to finally be free from work though, excited to see Jonathan to tell him about the book club mom because you know he gets a kick out of those suburban middle class mothers that terrorize Hawkins. He works across from you, at The Hawk theater, and it’s one of your favorite things about the bookstore. Besides getting to be surrounded by books all day and reading Spider-Man, you get to be across the street from your best friend and share frequent breaks together.

A bell signifies your arrival at the theater, alerting Jonathan to look up from the concession stand and smile at you. He looks tired, which you can understand. It’s been a particularly long school year so far with Jonathan having to work more shifts than usual to support his family.

“Welcome to The Hawk, can I interest you in our specialty popcorn and candy corn mixture?”

You make a face, “No, thanks. Candy corn freaks me out.”

Jonathan laughs, knowing you’d say that. It’s been a running joke between the two of you for as long as you can remember. You’re not picky with most foods, but candy corn? The bane of your existence. “Tough crowd, then.”

You laugh as well, now standing in front of the counter, and you learn against it so that you’re in Jonathan’s space. After being friends for so long, personal space doesn’t exist between the two of you. You’re the only person that Jonathan lets get this close to him on a regular basis, which you’re secretly proud of.

“So, you almost done so we can pick up our idiotic brothers?” Tonight, as usual, Will and Dustin are at Mike’s house playing DnD. They’d biked over as soon as school let out, while Jonathan drove you to work, so he was your ride back for the night.

He shakes his head at you, wincing, “I picked up an extra shift tonight. Stacy called out sick, and it’s good money…”

You nod in understanding. He doesn’t have to explain himself to you, which he’s always relieved by.

“It’s okay. Is my bike still in your trunk?”

“Yeah, I can get it out for you since I’m kind of ditching you tonight.”

You wave him off, already reaching across the counter to grab his keys from his coat pocket. “No need, I’ll get it out myself so you don’t get in trouble with your boss.” Jonathan’s boss is an older guy, extra scary. “I’m assuming that I’m taking Will home tonight?”

“It’ll be late by the time you get the boys, and you’ll have Dustin. We only live a couple blocks apart, you can just bike with Will until you get to your street.”

“Are you sure? I know he’s scared of the dark.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. You’re already doing enough being there for most of the ride; I’m sure Will can survive the last five minutes alone.”

You give Jonathan an unsure look, but you don’t argue with him. He’s his brother, he knows Will’s capabilities, and it’s an unspoken fact that you baby Will a bit too much. He’s just so much tinier than the other boys, softer in a way that you want to protect. He’s special.

Jonathan sneaks you a large peach lemonade and hot dog from the concession stand when you return with his keys. You’ve parked your bike up front, and you accept the food gratefully. You hadn’t had time to eat your usual dinner during your break due to the bookclub mother fiasco, so you inhale the food quickly and give his hair a ruffle.

“You’re a lifesaver, bee.”

Jonathan lightly hits your hand away from his hair. “Consider it your payment for dealing with Will and Dustin on your own tonight, bug.”

Bee and bug were the names the two of you had given each other years ago. Jonathan had started it with bug, stemming from the fact that you love Spider-Man so much, and you had struggled to come up with your own nickname for him. Then it came to you: bee, or B, for Byers. It was perfect, and you’re still incredibly proud of yourself for the creativity, honestly.

After your quick dinner, you say goodbye to your friend and head off. It’s late now, nearing 9, and you hope that Mrs. Wheeler and your own mom won’t be too upset with you for being late for pick up. You know they prefer to have the boys in bed by a decent hour, but in your defense, Jonathan did skip out on you.

You arrive at the Wheeler’s in a short amount of time and knock on the door. Your cheeks are flushed from the early November cold, and you’re regretting that you only put on a thin sweater and jeans this morning.

Mike answers the door, giving you a dirty look. “Did you have to come early?”

“I’m actually later than usual,” you sidestep him, making your way into his house; you’ve become used to Mike’s attitude. “I take it the campaign is still ongoing?”

“See, mom? Even Y/N understands how long a good campaign can go on for!” Mike waves his arms at you, as if to signify to his mother the importance of your understanding.

Mrs. Wheeler ignores her son to greet you kindly, albeit a bit exasperated. “Hello, Y/N, please come in.” Then she turns to Mike, giving him a stern look. “Mike, why don’t you tell Y/N how you boys have been playing for ten hours? I’m sure she’ll be understanding then.”

“You guys have been playing for ten hours?”

Mike looks down in embarrassment for a second before turning to his father for help. You laugh a bit at his enthusiasm and see a faint smile on his mom’s face as well. Quietly you excuse yourself to go downstairs to find the other boys, and Mrs. Wheeler wishes you luck.

Everyone always acts like the boys are some giant pain; truthfully, you enjoy them. Sure, they can be a handful, but they’re just kids; it’s hard for you to ever stay mad at them. Plus they like you, so it makes dealing with them easier.

Lucas, Dustin, and Will are running around the basement when you get down there, frantically searching for something. You hear Lucas inform Will that if Mike doesn’t see something, then it doesn’t count. The urgence in his voice amuses you; you’ll never fully wrap your head around why they take DnD so seriously, but you love that they can enjoy it with each other.

Dustin is the first to see you. “Y/N!”

The other boy’s heads turn to you and they greet you with enthusiasm as well. Will rushes towards you for a hug, which you gladly accept. When you break apart, Lucas gives you a high five and asks about a comic you’ve put on hold for him at the store.

“Any luck?”

“Sorry, Sinclair. It’s still sold out, but the second it’s restocked I’ll smuggle one for you.”

“Sick!”

Dustin walks over, now in his coat and holding a pizza box. “Want a slice?”

You decline, informing him that Jonathan snuck some food for you. At the mention of his brother’s name, Will asks where he is. You tell him that Jonathan had to cover a shift and that you’ll be taking him most of the way home tonight.

As you all make your way upstairs, you notice that Dustin continues up to the second floor. Lucas notices too, and the two of you share a knowing look.

“Still have a crush on Nancy?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yup.” Lucas responds, smiling in disappointment.

You wait for your brother outside, helping Will with his coat and listen to Mike’s rambling about the campaign. Lucas is already on his bike, ready to go.

“There’s something wrong with your sister.” Dustin declares when he finally returns.

Mike looks at you, then at your brother, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“She’s got a stick up her butt.”

“Dustin!” You berate. Nancy isn’t your favorite person, but she’s always been nice to you the few times you’ve interacted. You guys used to be closer when you were younger, but high school has a way of distancing people.

“Yeah,” Lucas now speaks up. “It’s because she’s been dating that douchebag, Steve Harrington.” How the hell does Lucas even know about that? You didn’t even know about that until just now.

“Lucas! Language!”

“Yeah, she’s been turning into a real jerk.”

“Dustin, I swear to God-”

The boys ignore you, which you’re honestly not surprised by. While they may like you, that doesn't mean that they listen to you. On a good day they maybe listen to you 25% of the time, but tonight was clearly not a good night.

Mike finally cuts in, “She’s always been a real jerk.”

“Hey, she’s your sister. Give her some credit-”

Dustin is now the one who cuts you off. “Nuh-uh, only you get the sister leniency, Y/N. Nancy used to be cool, now she isn’t.”

“Remember that time she dressed up as an elf for our Elder tree campaign?” Lucas asks, almost reminiscent.

You shudder at the way he says it, and you shudder more when you see the dreamy look in your brother’s eyes. “Yeah, I remember…”

“Gross,” you huff at your brother, now hopping on your own bike.

Lucas and Dustin begin to pedal away, and you call after them to wait up. Will is still with Mike, and you promised Jonathan you’d get him home. You give the boys a bit of space, waiting a few paces ahead. Will has always been shy around Mike, something that you’ve tried not looking into too much, but to be safe you give them some privacy.

Faintly, you hear Will say, “The Demogorgon, it got me.”

Lights flicker a bit, but you’re too focused on the slight unease you feel by Will’s words. Before you can think too much about them, he joins you. “Race you up to Lucas and Dustin?”

“You’re on,” you tell him.

Will beats you to the boys (which you let him do), and you’re out of breath. The four of you bike in silence for a bit until you reach Lucas’s turn into his neighborhood.

“Good night, ladies.” He says, and you don’t need to be a psychic to know what your brother’s response is going to be.

“Kiss your mom ‘night for me.” Bless him.

You and Will giggle together, and Dustin smirks at the two of you, proud. He sits in the praise for a few moments before challenging you and Will to race home with the promise of a comic for whoever wins.

“I call last year’s Black Cat issue of Spider-man!” You call out, already biking away from the boys.

“We didn’t say go!”

Dustin and Will call after you as they try to catch up, and within a few seconds the three of you are speeding down the hill towards your home. You laugh gleefully, enjoying the way the wind whips through your hair and the way Dustin, though annoyed by your early start, laughs alongside you with Will.

Somehow Will is the one who wins the race, which you’re impressed by. He may be small, but he’s surprisingly good at winning when it comes to a competition. Dustin shouts at Will that he’ll kill him, which makes you send a warning look at him.

“I’ll take your X-Men 134!” Will retaliates, still flying through the street.

You and Dustin are now stopped at your mailbox and you take a moment to catch your breath before shouting at Will, “Be careful, please! Stay safe!”

“I’ll be fine, I promise!” Will’s voice is distant, now a few yards away, and you stand outside for a few more seconds to watch his figure disappear into the night. Dustin has already gone inside but you wait to follow, only going inside when you can no longer see Will, hopefully home safe and sound. You feel fear creep upon you, but you chalk it up to your usual worry when it comes to the boy.

He’ll be okay, Jonathan should be home within the hour.

–

The next morning you’re frantically biking to school, pissed off at Jonathan. He’s your ride every morning, or everywhere, really, and for the second time in 24 hours he’s bailed on you. Dustin left for school ages ago on his bike, so you’re thankful he doesn’t see you embarrassingly sweaty and gross as you race to school.

It’s not that you’re pissed that Jonathan bailed again, you’re pissed because he didn’t even have the nerve to call you ahead of time to warn you. Now you have only ten minutes before the first bell rings, and your sweater clings to you uncomfortably as you sweat.

You make it to school with a few minutes to spare, so you quickly make your way over to your locker to grab the necessary books for the day. You’re still sweaty, and you don’t want to even think about what your hair looks like right now. You look down the hall towards Jonathan’s locker, still not seeing him, and you begin to worry a bit. Maybe he overslept after last night’s shift?

A body crashes into yours, sending your notebooks spiraling to the ground. Steve Harrington looks at you sheepishly, only saying a small “whoops!” before continuing his fast pace towards the girl’s bathroom. You scoff, now even more annoyed with your entire morning, picking up your stuff as you see Nancy enter the same bathroom a few moments later.

“In a public school bathroom?” You mutter in disgust, collecting the last of your things and heading to class.

You decide to give Jonathan until second period, sophomore English which the two of you share, before you freak out. You know you have a problem with over worrying about the people you love, so you try to calm yourself down. While Jonathan has never been the type to cancel without at least calling first, you reason with yourself that everyone has a bad morning. He simply slept in too late. When he wakes up, he’ll come to school and he’ll be sitting in the seat next to you in English.

Except Jonathan isn’t in the seat next to yours when you enter the classroom an hour later. Now you officially let yourself begin to worry. Something about this doesn’t feel right.

You’ve never skipped class before, school has always been important to you. You’re the top of your class with hopes of running away from Hawkins with Jonathan to a big city with an even bigger university. However, you don’t even hesitate to flee the classroom and find the nearest phone in the school to call the Byers’ residence.

Jonathan answers after a few rings, and the words that leave his lips change your life forever. “Will is missing.”

You feel all the air in your lungs be knocked out of you. You can’t breathe and you sway a bit as your knees threaten to give out. This isn’t real, this can’t be happening.

“What?”

“Will, he-he’s gone, Y/N. We can’t find him and-”

You don’t hear whatever else Jonathan says. You struggle to get air back in your lungs. Will isn’t missing, you just saw him last night. Mere hours ago Will laughed next to you, face alive with joy, he hugged you and joked along with you.

“He didn’t come home last night-”

“He didn’t come home?” Jonathan’s words catch your attention and you feel bile rise in your throat. Will didn’t make it home last night. You were the last one to see him, and the realization crushes you; it’s all your fault.

“Mom and I just searched the woods, and there’s no sign of him and-” Jonathan is rambling now, his own fear and despair clear in his voice.

“Jonathan,” you force his name out, now needing to be there for your best friend. You can worry for Will in your own time, right now Jonathan needs you. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Y/N, you don’t-”

You hang up before Jonathan can argue with you and stumble towards the exit. Your limbs feel heavier than normal, and your ears are ringing. Will is missing. He’s so small, he’s scared of the dark… You left him alone in the dark.

The bike ride to the Byers home is a blur. You don’t remember much, your body going on autopilot the second you hopped on your bike. You’re running on pure fear and adrenaline right now, too worried for your boys to focus on anything else.

You don’t bother to knock when you arrive, instead you let yourself in. Joyce is on the phone, arguing with some woman named Cynthia. Your eyes find Jonathan’s, who is sitting on the couch hunched over something. You walk over to him and sit down beside him and your stomach lurches when you see the words “have you seen me?” he’s so neatly printed out on a piece of paper.

“Bee…” you exhale, voice cracking a bit.

Jonathan doesn’t say anything, but you know him as well as you know yourself. He doesn’t want comforting words right now. You take his hand into yours and lean your head against his shoulder. Worry has made his muscles tense, but you feel him relax into you a bit as he rests his own head against yours. The two of you sit like that for a moment, taking in the comfort you bring each other.

“Bitch!” Joyce slams the phone down, causing you and Jonathan to jump apart.

“Mom,”

“What?” Joyce is a mixture of both rage and anxiety, and you feel awful looking at her. Her son is missing, you can’t imagine what she must be feeling right now.

“You have to stay calm.” Jonathan tells her, his voice firm but kind. You know it’s taking everything in him to be as stable as he is right now; he’s putting on a front for his worried mother. You squeeze his hand, hoping it conveys the support and love that you need it to.

He squeezes back, and you see Joyce finally recognize that you’re there as well. She sends you a weak wave, which you return, before she goes back to dialing and trying to reach Lonnie. Jonathan gives your hand one last squeeze and lets go, now returning back to the posters. You immediately understand that he’s doing this to distract himself, so you do the same and wordlessly help him.

You begin writing your own “have you seen me?” when Joyce once again slams her phone down. The sound makes you flinch, inadvertently messing up your writing, which you sigh at. Before you can ask Jonathan for another piece of paper, you hear a car pull up.

Jonathan stands up to investigate, alerting his mom that the cops are here. You follow after them outside, your heart dropping when you see Will’s bike in the Chief’s hand. He ushers everyone inside, informing Joyce that he found the bike lying in the road.

“How far was it from the house?” You ask, your voice frail.

The Chief looks at you, his nametag informs you that his name is Hopper, and raises his eyebrows. “And can I know who is asking?”

You clear your throat, nervous under his scrutinizing gaze. “I’m Y/N Henderson. I’m close with the Byers, I biked with Will home,” your voice catches in your throat, snagging onto the guilt that has been clawing at you ever since you found out Will was missing. You clear your throat again, determined to continue. “I was with him last night. My brother and I live right off Mirkwood, a few blocks from here. He only had a few more minutes before he would’ve been home.”

Hopper stares at you. “Mirkwood?”

“It’s where-”

“Yeah, those moron kids explained it to me. I just didn’t think someone your age would call the street that, too.” Then, as an afterthought, Hopper adds, “The bike was found a block from here.”

His words sting, but you ignore it. If the bike was found only a block from the Byers’ home, then that means that something had to have happened to Will only minutes after you last saw him. You feel the familiar churning in your stomach, wracked with guilt.

“Did it have any blood on it?” Joyce now asks, and you’re thankful she’s taken the attention off of you.

Jonathan sees your distress and grabs your sweater so that you fall back a bit from the cops and Joyce. “Do you need a minute?”

You can only nod, afraid that if you open your mouth you’ll either cry or throw up. He gently guides you to his room, closing the door. Once you’re alone, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in tight. You’re shaking harder than ever now, Will’s happy and shining face from last night keeps flashing through your mind.

You were the last one who ever saw him.

You’re the one who was last responsible for him.

You.

“It’s not your fault,” Jonathan whispers, his voice muffled by your hair. You’ve always loved how you fit perfectly in his arms, your height difference being just enough that he always rests his chin against your head when he hugs you.

“I’m the last person who saw him.”

“Y/N, I was the one who asked you to only bike him halfway-”

“No,” your voice comes out louder than you intend it to, and you push Jonathan away. He lets out a confused noise as you grapple at him, forcing him to look directly at you. “I should’ve been with him, Jonathan. It’s your job to support your family, and it’s my job to help you. I have to… I have to be the one who helps you.”

You’ve always been fascinated by psychology, and you remember reading in one of the journals about codependency; the term was used in relation to addiction, specifically alcoholism, but it had caught your interest. To love someone to the extent that their actions make you feel responsible for them, to selflessly take on their burdens to a debilitating extent, well, it reminded you of your relationship with Jonathan.

You’ve always taken on whatever Jonathan has had to deal with, ever since you were kids, and it’s always come so naturally to you. He’s never asked you to, and sometimes the extent to which you carry his weight angers him, but it’s how you love.

It’s who you are. You’re always the one who helps, it’s what you need to be able to do. If you can’t help the ones you love the most, then what good is your love for them?

Jonathan may not know about codependency, but he knows how hard you love those closest to you. “Bug, listen to me.” He grabs your face, almost aggressively, in order to cut off your rambling. “My mom, she-she’s already spiraling and I can’t… I need you. I need you to be here, with me, right now. If I lose you too, then I-I don’t know what I’ll do.”

His words cut through you like glass. He’s right, you know he’s right, and you feel another wave of guilt wash over you. This guilt is different from the guilt surrounding Will. This is mixed with shame for allowing yourself to spiral so far and forcing Jonathan to take care of you. Joyce is clearly unwell, you can’t fathom how much he’s had to deal with today.

You gently remove Jonathan’s hands from your face and take a step back. If you’re going to help him, you need to collect yourself. From here on out, you have to be a wall for him to lean on, a shoulder to cry on, someone who will listen to him.

“I’m sorry.”

Jonathan shrugs at you, now allowing a hesitant smile to cross his face. “If it makes you feel any better, it took a lot less pleading to get through to you. I’m still working on my mom.”

The joke is foul, one that should make you feel even worse than you already do, because what sixteen year old has to plead with their mother to remind her that he’s there, too? The joke is horrible, and it’s exactly what you need to find yourself laughing, and Jonathan joins.

Codependency can be a bitch, but Jonathan understands you in ways that no one else can.

“You think the cops are gone?” You ask, wiping away the remaining tears.

Jonathan listens for any sign of them and shakes his head. “No, I think we’re all clear.”

He walks out the room first and you follow after him. Joyce is standing in the kitchen, staring at the counter with a far off look in her eyes. You and Jonathan look at each other and you motion for him to go talk to her. He nods, and then you motion to the living room to indicate that you’ll continue working on the missing posters.

Carefully writing on the posters soothes you, in a way. It’s rhythmic, providing a sense of lull that you readily embrace. You faintly hear Jonathan talking with his mother, then you watch as he leads her to her bedroom and shuts the door. When he returns he sits next to you on the couch and begins to work on the posters as well. No words are needed.

You work on the posters in silence for a few hours until it nears 3pm. Dustin will be getting out of school soon, and you have to be there for him when he’s home. While Will may be Jonathan’s brother, he’s also your brother’s best friend. You get up and head into the kitchen, long familiar now with its layout and usual contents within the fridge, and quickly prepare the ingredients for spaghetti. It’s a simple meal, but Jonathan and Joyce need to eat. Once it’s all laid out, you return to the living room and tap on your friend’s shoulder.

“Hey, I have to head out now to check on Dustin, but I just put a pot of water on the stove along with some noodles on the counter. I also cut up some vegetables and put them in the fridge for the sauce. Start the meal whenever, I laid everything out for you.”

“Thank you, really,” Jonathan exhales, relief evident on his face. He hadn’t even thought about dinner, which you figured he wouldn’t.

You bend down to kiss the top of his head. “Anytime, bee. I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“Okay,”

“Just…” you linger at the door, not fully wanting to leave him all by himself. “Be careful, please.”

“Go, Y/N. I’ll be fine, I promise.” Jonathan reassures you.

“I’ll be fine, I promise!” Will’s voice is distant, now a few yards away, and you stand outside for a few more seconds to watch his figure disappear into the night.

It’s brief, but the flashback punches you in the gut. You close your eyes, holding onto the image of Will’s face in the moonlight last night, and when it fades you take a deep breath and force yourself to leave.

The second you’re on your bike, pedaling away from the house, you let the sobs that have wracked against your throat all day out. It’s messy, the tears coming down your face faster than you can wipe them away. All the fear you’ve felt is now able to freely come out. It’s not the safest way to bike home, but you know that if you hold the tears in any longer you’ll collapse. You do your best to still be alert, but apparently you fail because a BMW honks at you to avoid you hitting it.

“Fuck!” You yank your bike to the right, having no idea that you had been on the left side of the road, and topple over. The fall isn’t anything bad, but it definitely is your final straw for the day. You lay in the ditch you’ve landed in, staring at the November sky, and let the pain from your skinned knee serve as something to ground you to reality.

“Holy shit, did I hit you?”

Steve Harrington stands over you, a horrified look in his eyes.

“Unfortunately not, otherwise I’d be able to sue you and get money out of it.”

“Uh… okay?” He offers you his hand, although still very confused. “You didn’t like, happen to hit your head or anything, right?”

You accept his help, albeit mostly because you have to, and brush yourself off when you’re up. “I’m fine. I just wasn’t paying attention, sorry.”

Steve nods, as if you almost getting hit by his car makes perfect sense to him. When you walk over to your bike and inspect it for any damage, he follows after you.

“So,” he whistles, trying to pretend that this is all a completely normal occurrence. “You, uh, need a ride?”

Honestly you don’t know why you’re surprised he hasn’t noticed the clear signs of you crying, your swollen eyes and red nose. Not only is he a boy, but he’s also Steve Harrington. It’s a miracle he even stopped to make sure you weren’t dead.

“No,” you say, now repositioning your backpack so that you can get back on your bike. “Thanks anyways, Harrington.”

Steve continues to follow you, even after you’ve started to pedal away. “You’re welcome, random girl I almost hit!”

You’re a bit further now, and you still feel like utter shit, but his words somehow make you laugh a bit. For a brief moment, you forget about everything, so you call behind, “It’s Henderson!”

“That’s an odd first name!” The boy shouts after you, still following from a distance.

“Y/N Henderson!” You’re fully yelling now, a good yard away, but you can tell that Steve hears you based on the way he begins to wave eagerly, finally stopping next to his car. Faintly you understand the boyish charm that makes him so loved by all the girls in the school; you understand why Nancy Wheeler has fallen for him.

“Bye, Y/N!” It’s faint, but you swear you can hear a smile in his voice.

The good mood that Steve Harrington inexplicably puts you in vanishes when you near your house. Nothing has changed, yet it feels as if something has shifted. Will had been here only hours ago. You spot Dustin’s bike laying on the grass, haphazardly thrown as usual.

Dustin is just taking off his coat when you enter, immediately running over to him to pull him into a bone crushing hug.

“Y/N!” he squeaks in surprise.

“Are you okay?” You know you’re squeezing your brother harder than you need to, but God. He’s safe, in your arms, and you’ve now learned that not everyone can say the same about their own loved ones.

Dustin wiggles a bit, trying to break away from the hug, but you only pull him in tighter. “Geesh, no one died.”

Normally you’d berate him, but you embrace his snarky comments. They’re what make Dustin so unique, his humor one of your favorite parts of him

When you don’t respond, Dustin stops wiggling around and finally accepts the situation. “I love ya too, sis.”

You giggle a bit, now pulling away. “At least mom isn’t home right now. The minute she hears about what’s happened, we’ll be on lockdown.”

Dustin’s eyes widen. “Shit, you’re right.”

“Lan-”

“Language, I know.”

You ruffle his hair, now feeling a bit better. Dustin is still Dustin, so maybe everything will be okay. You and your brother go into the kitchen for your post school snack, and you call your boss to inform her that you can’t make it to your shift. The words “family emergency” catch in your throat a bit, and Mrs. Waters is kind enough not to push it.

Dustin catches you up on his day, informing you about Hopper questioning him and the other boys.

You scrunch your nose at that. “Is that even legal?”

“Unsure, but it was awesome.”

“Will went missing, Dustin. It isn’t ‘awesome’.”

Dustin tilts his head at you. “Well, I bet Will is going to have a blast hearing everything when we find him.”

His words are so matter of fact, as if he already knows that Will will be found after all. His naivety worries you a bit, but you also can’t help but indulge in his hope as well. Then you think about what he’s just said. “Wait, who’s ‘we’?”

Your brother pretends he can't hear you, miming at his ears. “Dustin-”

“What?”

“Dustin, you and the boys can’t just-”

“I can’t hear you!” He’s running to his room now with you quick behind his heels.

“Dustin, I swear to God-”

“I gotta do homework, Y/N, bye!” He slams the door in your face.

You sigh. There’s no getting through to him, years of being Dustin’s older sister has taught you that, so you go into your room instead. You might as well get started on the assignments you missed today, and you have a huge chem test tomorrow, so you’ll focus on that and keep an ear out for Dustin. Whatever he’s planning with the boys, you won’t let them do it alone.

After a couple hours of silence from Dustin’s room, you decide to call Jonathan. The line rings for a while with no answer, and eventually you give up. It makes sense that he’s not answering, he’s had a long day. You hope he’s asleep, but you know him better than that. He’s probably holed up in his room, trying to distract himself like you are right now.

A loud thud from Dustin’s room breaks you from your thoughts. Then you hear a quiet “shhh!” that sounds suspiciously like Lucas, and you immediately throw on your shoes and a jacket and march outside.

Dustin is halfway out of his window when you arrive, and Mike and Lucas stare at you, caught red handed.

“Guys, I think she can hear us.” Your brother says, breaking the silence. Mike scoffs at him and Lucas groans.

You eye the three of them, unamused. “Your best friend just went missing, what the hell are you guys doing out here so late and alone?”

Dustin awkwardly finishes his descent down, finally landing on his feet with a thud. He secures his hat back on his head and goes to grab his bike. You block his path.

“I’m serious, one of you needs to start talking, now.”

Lucas and Dustin look at Mike, who is their unofficial leader of the gang, and he huffs. “Look, Y/N, I like you-”

“How thrilling.” You say, voice monotone.

The boy ignores you and continues to talk. “But Will is missing, and we aren’t just going to sit around and wait. He’s our friend, we have to do something.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Lucas interrupts you. “You’re definitely our favorite sister in the group, so you’d be even cooler if you let us go.”

Again, you try to respond, but this time Dustin beats you to it. “Yeah, you’re like, totally cool already. If you pretend that you never saw us, that’d be great.”

“Guys-”

“And don’t give us a whole lecture about safety. That’s all bull.” Mike says.

“Boys!” You scream. They all fall silent, not used to you ever raising your voice at them. You’ve only ever yelled at them once or twice, preferring to be the “cool” sister whenever you can, but right now they’re seriously pissing you off.

“Let me speak.” When no one says anything, you continue. “I’m not going to stop you guys from looking for Will. In fact, I support it-”

“You do?”

You shoot Mike a death glare, which promptly shuts him up. “Yes, I do. However, I’m not letting you guys go alone.”

The boys all groan at this, acting as if it’s the worst thing in the world to have you tag along with them. You ignore their complaining and head over to where your bike sits against the porch. You zip up your coat, the chill from the night making you shiver a bit.

“No arguing, or I’ll call all your moms. Ours included, Dustin.”

“Why me?”

“Look, guys. I’m proud of you for stepping up, but I’m coming with. The last time I let one of you boys go off into the woods alone…”

The boys shift uncomfortably now, realizing how heavy the guilt weighs upon you. After a few beats of silence, Mike finally gives in.

“Fine,” he says, pointing a finger at you. “But the second you start to freak out, you’re gone.”

You salute Mike, hopping on your bike as you all begin to bike away. The ride doesn’t take long, since you live just off of where Will was last seen. Thunder rumbles when you all approach the crime scene, and you shudder a bit.

“It’s going to rain, guys.” You inform them.

Dustin looks up at the sky with uncertainty. “I think maybe we should go back.”

Mike is quick to shut down the idea, urging the others to keep going. You admire his loyalty to Will, and you figure it’s why the two of you butt heads so often. Out of the entire group, you’re the most similar to him.

Lucas and Mike go under the caution tape first, and Dustin hangs back. You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We can go back, you know.”

He clenches his jaw, jutting his chin out a bit. “No, Will needs us.”

Your brother puffs out his chest and follows after his friends, leaving you to take up the rear. More thunder rumbles and the rain begins to come down. You flip your hood up, thankful you remembered to grab a hoodie when leaving.

Mike guides the way with his flashlight, then Lucas, then Dustin, then you in the back. You make sure to keep your eyes on the three boys, scared that the second you look away they’ll be gone. The woods have always creeped you out, but you push your fear down to keep them safe.

“Will!” Mike calls out, the rain now pouring down on you guys.

“Byers!”

“Will, little bee!” You call out as well. He never liked when you called him that in front of the others, but tonight was an exception.

“I’ve got your X-Men 134!” Your brother bribes, unintentionally making you laugh a bit. If Will is nearby, he’ll surely come out to claim his prize.

Your foot catches on a tree log, and you slip in the mud before just barely managing to catch yourself. It’s getting hard to see given how dark it is and the rain surrounding you. Dustin voices his concerns, only to be called a baby, and you bite your tongue. If you defend him, he’ll only look more like a baby to his friends.

“I’m just being realistic!” He retaliates, which you commend him for.

“Dustin’s right, guys. It’s getting really bad out here. We’re surrounded by a ton of trees, don’t they attract lightning?” You ask, now paranoid that you’ll be struck down any second.

“You guys are being sissies.” Lucas taunts, annoyed as well.

You try to argue, but Dustin voices a thought that’s been at the back of your mind. “Did you ever think Will went missing because he ran into something bad?”

You think back to how Hopper seemed worried when he investigated the Byers home. From what you can recall, he suspected that Will had been running away from something, explaining why he’d abandon his bike.

“And now we’re going to the exact same spot where he was last seen, and we have no weapons or anything?”

Maybe Dustin’s right. This definitely wasn’t your best idea, and you’re regretting letting them follow through with their plan. For someone who claims to want to keep their loved ones safe, you really suck at it.

“Dustin, shut up.” Mike voices, though he now looks a bit concerned as well.

“He’s right, Mike.” You speak up, stumbling a bit in more mud. Your shoes are definitely ruined, now. “I was at Jonathan’s when Hopper showed up, he thinks Will was running from something.”

The boys go quiet now, and when you’re about to suggest going home, you hear rustling in the bushes.

“Did you guys hear that?” Mike asks.

Your heart stops as the rustling continues and you all start to twist and turn, looking for the source of the sound. The rustling gets louder, almost as if it’s getting closer, and you tighten your hand around your flashlight, ready to use it as a weapon just in case.

Then, the light flashes upon a little girl, drenched in an oversized yellow shirt, shivering. Her head is shaved, but her small stature suggests to you that she is indeed a girl. You all stare at her, no one saying a thing. She stares back, a terrified look on her face that breaks your heart.

“Holy shit,” you whisper.

Her eyes land on you; something about her reminds you of Will, and you know that nothing will be the same again.

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, just let me know :)

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wdtai #m's writing #honestly i just want to be jonathans bff #like its criminal that he doesnt have any real friends in the show until SEASON 4 #absolutely wild

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teenagenutant · 1 year

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Ngl I love Galileo's entire concept. Does he have double the ego-mask and double the insecurities?

hope you don't mind me using this message to compile some asks ^^ (if you don't see yours im probably planning on doing something else with it) thank you so much!! first off... yeah totally LOL

gali's being totally genuine here. i don't think galileo masks their feelings at all- they're a total emotional open book in contrast to both donnie and leo, lmao. when they're being egotistical, they mean it 200%, but its also the same when they're feeling insecure...

(a bunch more galileo asks beloooow)

made me giggle LMAO

in regards to powers: i'm still unsure on exactly how to handle it, but i do like the idea of being able to create more stable portal constructs... maybe being able to teleport constructed items? maybe being able to create more sci/fantasy constructs than donnie alone can...? much to think about. parmi definitely has a combined Even More Insane portal powers, messing with both dimensions and space... (but he operates on rule of funny, lol, so a bit unpredictable) they can probably still use their normal separate abilities to some extent, but probably are still affected by each other!

i love the idea of galileo getting Very hyperfocused Very easily- gali gets their love of learning and being right, and they don't feel hungry or tired as much as either donnie or leo would, so they can get really lost in the weeds... components of a fusion remember everything that happens and would probably retain the information learned, but wouldn't for example make leo instantly knowledgable on all the complicated science stuff donnie knows, and vice versa. aka: leo and donnie both ending up with a LOT of contextless, near-useless trivia after unfusing post-wikipedia binge. the image of them fusing exclusively to combine their ability to Prove Someone Wrong On The Internet is really, really good LMAO

THANK YOU !! galileo was a fun guy to design, i'm really glad people like them. i think being galileo is actually really fun, especially in the moment... like how initially excited donnie was + how hyped leo was to make scifi stuff in mind meld..

thank y'all for the asks!! i'll be tagging this stuff as 'fusion mayhem au' in the future. (again no promises this'll be a Formal AU Thing but i thought it be helpful for people to have a tag to filter!)

#im usually terrible with answering asks and replying to comments but i am Trying To Get Better about it ha #tmnt #rottmnt #turtle asks #(many of them. plural)#fusion mayhem au #is at least the temporary tag ill go with for this- feel free to filter if ya want! ^^#long post #sorry about the janky formatting- tumblr loves fighting me on this stuff aha #fmau #fmau asks

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tinandabin · 11 months

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Guys. S4 EP1 Kny. Let's insert reader there because YESSSSSSSS!!!!!! im SO EXCITED TO BE WIRITNG FOR KNY AGAINN!!!!!!!

updated a/n: y'all, it's me, tina except now kny has s4 ep8. wow I forgot about this draft lemme continue it.

Yandere Muzan x Reader ( I hope this is yandere )

__________

You were summoned in the infinity castle, well not really summoned, just teleported to a different area since you quite literally live in the infinity castle. All because of stupid Muzan being love-sick over you. Like bro, find a new obsession or something. Stop being a creep.

"[Name], come here. Stand beside me." Muzan said without looking at you, sensing your presence as soon as you were here. He was mixing some chemicals, since when did bro know chemistry?

You obeyed nonetheless, it would be futile to resist. So you got up and stood beside him, like a dutiful pet. You couldn't help but look at all the different chemicals Muzan was mixing, like bro, tell me the atomic mass of barium!!! You had this sudden urge to poke the chemicals, so you did. "Darling, don't do that." He chided you softly, as if you were some child. Did you listen to him? No.

Soon, all of the uppermoons were summoned and Muzan went on and on like some boring professor lecture. You almost fell asleep, almost.

"Ne ne, Muzan-sama, who's the new guest?" Douma, sitting in a criss-cross position, pointed a finger at you, staring at you menacingly. You stared back, more menacingly. Soon, it turned into a staring contest between the two of you before you decided to jump down the platform where Muzan is also standing, because why not? You have free will!!

Muzan glanced at you before sighing, irritated. "Don't do it." He warned. You looked back at him, smirking. "What if I did?" You replied in a snarky tone. Muzan looked fed up with your bullshit while Douma only merrily laughed in the background, finding it amusing that someone was able to challenge the demon king. A mere human, at that.

"Don't," Muzan said, not bothering to look at you again. "What's the magic word?" You wiggled your eyebrows at him. Really, all of the uppermoons were just waiting for you to get your skull burst open because who in their sane mind tells the demon king to say the magic word? Psh, as if he will- "Please don't." I kid you not, the uppermoons let out collective gasps. "Are you a witch?" Daki muttered, looking very surprised.

You only laughed and decided to not jump off the platform. Maybe another day. It was comical seeing the oh-so-feared demon king listen to the demands of a tiny human. That, my dear, was a normal day with the feared demon king. Just some uppermoon meetings, where you got Muzan to do something polite, effectively shocking the uppermoons to their core so much that they might just go into a coma. They all have concluded that you must be some type of goddess to be able to get Muzan to say, 'please'.

_______

"Moo-zan." You poked Muzan's cheek as he read some boring ass book about flowers. He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, humming.

"I'm bored."

"And? That is not of my concern."

"I'm bored."

"I still don't understand how is that my concern."

"I'll eat your books."

"Would you like to go to dinner, tonight?" Muzan felt threatened. He knows you won't be beyond eating his books.

Silly little threats always work, guys. Try it out! Sponsored by [Name].

Masterlist

#dark #yandere #demon slayer #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #yandere demon slayer #yandere kny #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere muzan x reader #yandere muzan kibutsuji #yandere muzan #muzan x you #muzan x reader #muzan x y/n #yanderes x reader #yanderes

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missmaywemeetagain · 1 year

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Pink Scarf - Part 20 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: SEXXXXXXXX. Dom/sub stuff. Angst (as always). Fluff (finally)? Medication/drug use/overdose mentions. Dub con mentions(sort of?). Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 15.2k (CUZ Y'ALL DESERVE IT)

A/N: 🎶And now, the end is near/And so I face the final curtain🎶

Babies, we are at the end. I don't know what to say other than thank you all so very much, thank you for you patience, and I'm gonna miss the hell out of Reader and Elvis and their stupid, mutual pining asses. (I'm not crying, you are!) 😭 Oh, and I highly recommend listening to Without Love (I Have Nothing) (1969) before reading the middle section here. I've included the first takes to the final master version because the first takes are stripped down & give more of the intimate feel I was getting at, but the final master is excellent, so I wanted to give you listening options! It'll really give you an idea of what the moment feels and sounds like! (I'm such a nerd, I know. Also, only Elvis could nail a song like this in a few takes, lord have mercy.)

I will write a short Epilogue sometime soon, so stay tuned! Also, I am very seriously thinking about publishing a physical book of Pink Scarf (and a Kindle version, too) BUT ONLY IF people are wanting and willing to buy it! It would likely include new bonus chapters/material. Please let me know in the comments, asks, or DMs if this is something you want! Like I said, I don't wanna do it if no one wants it, so let me know!

I sincerely hope y'all will stick around for my next projects as I try to get my writing career off the ground. Y'all are the OG's and the best fans a girl could ask for! 💗

If you so desire, you should now have the ability to tip my blog or different chapters in the story! Some of you have been asking about this, and of course, no one is obligated to do so! If you do choose to tip, thank you so much! I've never had anyone want to pay for my work before, so this is a big step towards my romance novelist dreams. 💜

Finally, I am so FREAKIN' GRATEFUL for every single one of you babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE EXTRAORDINARY! I didn't in a million years expect this kind of support and response for Pink Scarf, and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat!

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my AO3 account, as well as my NEW Wattpad account. so if you are so inclined, you can check it out/support me over there with kudos and votes and whatnot!)

Stop her, stop her, stop her…

The words echo in his head, but Elvis is frozen to the spot, watching your back as you walk out the door and possibly out of his life, feeling so raw he fears his heart might liquify and pour out of his mouth. The way you look so angry, more angry than he’s ever seen you, and so disappointed in him—it breaks his goddamn heart. Your vitriol paralyzes him, drying up the words that he can’t seem to tell you.

But he’s done it all for you, every stupid decision he made, he did in the name of love—and of keeping you safe and keeping you sane (you fuckin’ liar, you know that ain’t true, he lambasts himself).

“You screwed with our lives because you could. You and your fucking egomaniacal, insane, manipulative bullshit…” Your words cut like daggers into his skin. He wants those words to be utterly untrue, outright lies, but he knows—he knows—that you are not entirely off base.

And perhaps that’s been the problem all along: he doesn’t truly believe he deserves you. For all the reasons you spit at him and for the fact that he has ruined you in more ways than one.

But the one crucial thing you are dead wrong about is that he didn’t care, that he’d just fucked you and wanted to pretend it never happened. He may be many of the things you said—egotistical, manipulative, stupid for lying to you—but he loves you, more than he has ever been able to express.

If anything, he’s cared too much.

But you are convinced of the opposite and, stupidly, he didn’t tell you any different.

This is the thing that finally gets him moving. His heart thrums in his chest as he races out the door, desperate to catch up to you. He looks around frantically for you, barely processing the confused and pitied looks of the men around him and flies out the main door of the penthouse suite.

“Y/n!” he shouts, hoping he can salvage this because he needs you more than he needs air to breathe.

I love you, I love you, I love you! screams in his mind but not out of his mouth, for reasons he can’t entirely explain. He arrives in the hallway just in time to see the elevator doors close behind you.

He’s too late.

“Fuck!!” he screams, and without thinking turns and plunges his fist into the wall. Plaster and paint flake around the new divot and burning pain radiates up his arm.

He nearly collapses from the way his heart tears in two, the gravity of the situation hitting him all at once. He’s barely slept in days, what with taking care of you in the hospital, being wracked with worry, and then having to come back and give high quality performances as if life was normal. His heart is beating too fast and his limbs feel weak.

Suddenly, everything feels much too heavy.

His legs threaten to give way and he leans against the wall, furious at you for making him feel these things. But he is more furious at himself.

You didn’t even say you were sorry, you stupid fucker, a little voice berates him.

I have nothing to be sorry for, the stubborn part of him, the one driven by his ego, replies.

The inner voice laughs sardonically. You have everything to be sorry for.

“EP!” he hears Jerry’s alarmed voice from far away. But he’s beyond caring.

I’ve lost her, is all he can think as his vision blurs and narrows, After all this, I’ve still lost her.

Jerry rushes to his side, but the despair and fury within Elvis drives him back into the penthouse, causing destruction along the way. He barely registers tearing the rest of his room apart, only knowing that he needs some outlet, some release of these horrible feelings trapped inside of him. To purge himself of the fact that even with all he tried to do to prevent it, his worst fears had still come to pass. Distantly, he’s aware of the breaking glass and the ripping of fabric and the roaring sound coming from his mouth, but everything is unfocused and red in his mind.

Elvis does this until finally his body gives out and he collapses on the bed. As he comes back into himself, his heart is beating so hard and so fast that he’s actually a little afraid he will give himself a heart attack. Trying to steady his breathing, he looks up, and seeing himself in the mirror above the bed, he hardly recognizes the man lying there.

Self-pity descends rapidly. There’s no way she’ll ever love me after this. How could she?

Early in his life, he’d thought June had been his last hope of ever having a woman love him for who he truly is, stripped of fame, warts and all, but he’s long since realized that you are that woman. You are his last chance at having that kind of true love in his life. And now those dreams are dying right in front of him because of his own stupidity.

I’ll always be alone.

And with that thought, he closes his eyes and wishes he were anyone else but Elvis Presley.

The commotion outside his bedroom door has Elvis lifting his chin expectantly yet not hopefully. He’s spent the last three hours faking his way through his midnight show trying to push the horrified and angry look on your face out of his mind. Trying to forget that he let you walk out his door.

Needless to say, it wasn’t his best show, though bellowing out his feelings through the music was cathartic in its own way.

He’s not sure why he had frozen like he did. It certainly wasn’t like him to cow-tow in the midst of a fight, but he had promised himself in the hospital that he’d be gentler with you. Perhaps it was the shock of seeing you so completely furious. Maybe it was that you’d finally remembered what happened after so many years, unearthing his deepest, darkest secrets and mirroring them back to him in the worst of ways. Or maybe it was that so many of your words rang with truth, even though you’d misunderstood the core reasons behind his actions.

Either way, he feels like his heart was ripped out of his chest. Part of him yearns to do more self-destructive things, but instead he sits still on the edge of his giant bed, the one you should be in right now, trying to understand just how completely he managed to screw this up.

“Fuck you, Elvis Presley. It would’ve changed everything.”

Your words ring through his head again and again, like a broken record. What did you mean by that exactly? Because the crushed look on your face when you said it made it seem like you had feelings for him back then that if realized would’ve changed your relationship, and that sends a wave of heartache through him so strong that he feels like he might vomit.

“Jerry, I swear to God, if you don’t let me in there, you’ll be sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future!” He hears Sandy’s voice through the door and closes his eyes, trying to prepare himself for what he thinks is coming.

The door bursts open and he opens his eyes to see Sandy storm in, Jerry looking incredibly apologetic and a bit mortified that he was unable (or unwilling) to stop his wife.

Elvis waves Jerry off. He knows he can’t stop the onslaught. Jerry raises his eyebrows in an, “Are you sure?” way, and Elvis sends him out with a look.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, Presley,” Sandy seethes, pointing at him once the door is closed behind her.

“Nice to see you, too, Sandra,” he responds wearily.

“Oh, don’t you ‘Sandra’ me,” she spits, then looks him over carefully, as if really seeing him. She surveys the disaster of the room, which he had completely torn to shreds after you left, then looks back at him. “You look like shit,” she adds matter-of-factly, almost as if she’s glad of it.

He can’t help shooting her a withering glare, but Sandy’s blood is up and does not falter under his gaze like most would.

“How is she?” he finally asks, dreading the answer.

“Well, let’s see…in the last three days her husband beat her up, her life imploded, and she just found out that her lover has been hiding some pretty crucial shit from her for over a decade. She sobbed for two hours straight and has been near catatonic since, so she’s just peachy, Elvis,” Sandy says sarcastically.

“Watch your tone, Sandra,” he warns, feeling his temper threaten.

“No, I don’t think I will, Elvis. Not when y/n is absolutely miserable and you are sitting up here doing nothing about it,” Sandy shoots back.

“This ain’t none of your business,” he says, vexed, standing and pointing a ring-clad finger at her. He likes Sandy, but he sure as hell doesn’t like her calling him out like this, not when he’s already been beating himself up about it.

Sandy laughs wickedly, “You made it my business the moment you let her tell me and started using me as cover for your lies.”

He can’t argue with that. Deflated, he runs his hand over his face. He is utterly miserable.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Sandy says, and this time, her voice is quieter, gentler. “How could you keep something like that a secret for this long?”

He doesn’t want to say and certainly doesn’t want to appear vulnerable, but the ache in him is so bad, he can’t hide it. And he knows for a fact Sandy won’t let this go. Finally, he relents.

“I-I-I was trying to protect her, to protect our friendship… I w-was terrified I’d hurt her, that I’d…taken her against her will, and I-I-I could barely live with myself. I couldn’t burden her with the enormity of what we’d done” he says.

“And what about pushing her and Jack together, all the interfering? How exactly does that line up, E?” Sandy asks pointedly.

Elvis clears his throat and looks down. That is not something he is proud of. He wants to say he didn’t mean for it to go that way, but it would be a lie.

“It wasn’t like that, not at first. By the time I realized how I really felt about her, Jack had already swooped in and asked her out. I had nothin’ to do with it,” he says defensively.

Sandy crosses her arms, not accepting that and waits for him to continue.

“Well, then…then I-I realized she’d be better off with a man who could give her the stability and the family she wanted. I couldn’t be there for her, not the way she deserved. My career was just takin’ off and I—well, hell, it didn’t even matter until that day at Graceland, and I was ready to throw it all out the window when I’d thought she felt the same way about me that I felt for her, but-but then she…the overdose, she didn’t even remember…How was I supposed to explain that to her, Sandra? How? How was I gonna look her in the eyes and tell her she came on to me and we made love on the floor and that it completely changed everything? Who was gonna believe that? You know as well as I that it would’ve ruined her!” he says, his heart pounding, voice quavering, and his blood up.

Sandy looks at him carefully. “You were afraid she didn’t feel the same way. And that she doesn’t now,” she states, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

His head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide and caught like a deer in headlights.

“I had to protect her. And I had to set her up so she’d always be taken care of. And if she was with Jack, I could do that for her, for them. They could be happy. I wanted them to be happy, I-I swear. I thought they’d be happy!” he yells, back off the rails, pacing the room like a caged tiger.“I-I-I could…w-w-well, if she wasn’t with me, at least with him I would always know she was okay, and I could see her and it wouldn’t be some random-ass man that I didn’t know or trust takin’ her away from me forever!”

Sandy stays quiet, her gaze intense and knowing, and just waits for him to continue.

“I-I-I needed her to still be in my life, Sandra. I didn’t know Jack would fall so deep into the hole that he’d throw everything away. I didn’t think he would ever, ever hurt her!”

The words of his confession ring out and then die. Silence sits heavy for a moment.

“Wow. I have to say, that’s some masterful denial there,” Sandy finally says harshly. “Did you really think it was gonna be good for their marriage to take him away for months at a time? To feed him women and drugs and then be like, ‘Ooops! I didn’t know! It’s not my fault!’? Really?” she adds cuttingly, but steadily.

She’s right and he knows it. And she’s pushing him to admit the one thing he’s not sure he can.

He wants to get angry. He wants to scream and throw her out for her audacity. Instead, he just feels a rock in the pit of his stomach, realizing the truth of what she’s getting at:

That he’d knowingly sabotaged your marriage and then, when it was really bad, he’d taken advantage of the situation.

“You need to own up to what you did and apologize, and then you need to tell her what you’re so afraid of, Elvis. I can’t emphasize enough how much she needs to know that you love her,” Sandy continues with conviction.

His mouth pops open and then closes again, wordlessly, at hearing his feelings shared out loud so easily when he’s been harboring them alone for so many years. “You didn’t see how angry she was with me, how betrayed she looked…There’s no way she feels how I do, not after this,” he shakes his head.

Sandy rolls her eyes and mutters something unintelligible under her breath. “Listen, I have a pretty good idea how pissed and betrayed she’s feeling. And I’m not gonna speak for her, but…” she worries her lip a little, “you two of you really need to talk about how you truly feel about each other. Without all the other shit in the way.”

Something in the way she says it gives him hope.

“You need to fix this, Elvis.”

“I-I-I don’t think I can,” he states, defeated.

“Oh, please. We both know you can do anything when you want it bad enough,” she smiles slyly.

Once again, she’s right. “Why are you helping me?” he asks.

“Because I love her, too, and she deserves to be happy. She deserves the best,” she says knowingly, “That and this mess has everyone on pins and needles. We all just wanna fucking relax.”

Maybe she’s right. Maybe he can salvage this. Just not right now. He is too exhausted and things feel too raw.

"Just...wait a little bit," Sandy adds carefully, as if reading his mind. “I think you both need a little breather.”

He nods.

“But don’t wait too long,” she says on her way out the door, her voice warning him of his worst fear: if he waits too long, he will lose her.

The door clicks shut behind her and silence falls once again. He glances at the bottles on the bedside table. As exhausted as he is, he’s still keyed up too much to sleep.

He doesn’t want to rely on the sleeping pills, in fact, he hadn’t needed them at all when you were in his bed, but his body craves them and he doesn’t have the wherewithal to resist at the moment. So, he pops a few down and waits for the drowsy effect to take hold of him.

When he closes his eyes, all he can see is you.

You are itching to play, yearning to feel the white and black ivories under your fingertips. It feels like it might be the only thing keeping you sane these past few days—this need to pour your entire heart into something beyond yourself.

Unfortunately for you, the only pianos you know of are in Elvis’ suite, on his stage, and in the rehearsal room. Two of those aren’t even options at this point. It’s bad enough that anywhere you go in the hotel, all you see is his visage, all you hear is his music feeding through the speakers. An ever-constant reminder of how stupid you are to have ever thought you’d be more to him than just a friend.

You can’t seem to escape him.

You are able, with little effort, to convince Sandy to talk Jerry into letting you into the rehearsal space. Both of them keep looking at you with kind yet sad eyes, as they’ve been witness to all your special humiliations these past few weeks. You suppose it’s good that you are not alone with this, but sometimes all you want is to scream bloody murder and get as far away as possible from Vegas, from Jack, from Elvis.

But you can’t go home, not right now. You learned that Elvis sent Jack back to Memphis to “get himself together” and that Red is his babysitter. But that means you can’t go back to Tennessee, not yet. You can’t face him with all this still up in the air.

So, you are stuck in the limbo that is Las Vegas. You have nothing of your own, no money, no way to get home even if you wanted to. You are exactly where you feared you would be: Alone and heartbroken and stuck.

You hadn’t counted on also being beat to hell, both physically and emotionally.

Which is why you are so desperate to get to a piano. It’s the only way you can get these awful feelings out of your system. You just need to lose yourself in music, in creating it.

But when Jerry lets you in to the large rehearsal space, you are not alone. Someone is already at the piano, their back to you, playing a mournful gospel-style ballad. Someone is already leaning into the keys and singing.

I awakened this morning, I was filled with despair All my dreams turned to ashes and gone, oh yeah

You frantically backpedal and look at Jerry in a panic, but he shakes his head only somewhat apologetically and will barely look you in the eyes as he closes the door, shutting you in with the very person you are trying to escape.

Damn him and Sandy both.

As I looked at my life it was barren and bare Without love I've had nothing at all

You lean your forehead against the door and close your eyes, not wanting to turn around and face him. Instead, you breathe shaking breaths and press your palms into the cool door in order

to not to let the intense waves of anger and sadness that are crashing over you drown you.

You’re not even sure that he knows you are here, his voice ricocheting and echoing throughout the large space. He sounds so consumed by the music that your presence may have gone unnoticed. You aren’t sure if you want him to know you are here or not, but either way, you are swept up into the music with him, your soul clamoring for any part of him despite your mind’s warnings.

Without love I've had nothing Without love I've had nothing at all I have conquered the world All but one thing did I have Without love I've had nothing at all

You don’t want to hear him, not at all (liar), but his melodic voice is hypnotizing, drawing you in with its rich baritone and crying tenor notes and possessed vibrato. And whatever headspace he is currently in has his voice sounding absolutely hauntingly beautiful. It makes you shiver. You are forced to listen, to hear the meaning behind the words.

Once I had a sweetheart who loved only me There was nothing, oh that she would not give, oh no

It's unfair, just how good his voice is at making you listen to it, more than just his words alone, making you hear his soul through the sound. You suppose that is his true talent: being able to pour emotion into a song in such a way that it transcends the music itself. With your eyes shut, it threads through your mind, simultaneously lulling you and making you want to weep. You know you are getting a window into his heart by listening, and it is telling you what you want to hear the most but are terrified to accept.

But I was blind to her goodness and I could not see That a heart without love cannot live

Oh god, oh god, oh god, your inner voice cries because you are suddenly and all at once bombarded with memories. His voice strips you bare, cutting through all the anger and fear and heartache, finally let yourself realize what your subconscious has been trying to tell you for a long time.

Echoes from both the near and distant past trigger inside your mind, your head aching with the residuals of the concussion. First, it’s your own voice, calling back to that moment on the lawn so many years ago, telling Elvis about how you knew Jack was the one: He’s there when I need him. He makes me feel special, like the only girl in the world. I know he’ll always take care of me. He is mine and I am his. Sometimes I almost feel like we were made for each other, ya’ know, like we were meant to be…

Without love I've had nothing Without love I've had nothing at all

Then, Elvis’ words flood your mind, flashing from one moment to the next:

“I just want you to be happy, baby. I wanna make you happy.”

“I take care of what’s mine.”

“You were made for me.”

“You belong here with me.”

“It’s meant to be…”

Your heart slams against your ribcage, making it hard to breathe. It’s like he’s been telling you all along, yet you’ve been too blinded by fear and guilt and the sheer impossibility of it all to truly see.

I have conquered the world All but one thing did I have Without love I've had nothing

At all

The final phrase is nearly a wail in the most beautiful of ways, the last run falling away and leaving a hollow silence in the room.

The memories come quickly now, a barrage of feelings and images: A boy backstage nervous as hell and his smile as you made him laugh. His eyes searching yours oh-so-closely in a diner booth as you tried to get over Ted. His melancholy the night you got engaged. Dancing, no, clinging onto you at the wedding before his world changed completely, and then again that mournful Christmas he’d returned, when you swore that Elvis wanted you more than anything in the world.

It’s the same way he looked when you climbed into his lap and rode him that fateful, forgotten day at Graceland.

His words from the other day, the ones that felt so possessive and manipulative take on different meaning as the puzzle pieces finally click into place, one by one:

“You are all I’ve been able to concentrate on, ya know that? You’re all I fuckin’ think about. I want you. I want you to be with me. Be with me.”

“Baby, you have me, you’ll always have me. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I’ll take care of you, no matter what happens.”

“Let me take care of you. Let me be your everything.”

“I thought I told you, honey—I always get what I want, and I think I’ve made it quite fuckin’ clear who I want.”

“I need you.”

You are nearly brought to your knees with overwhelm, breathing too fast as you cling to the wall, anything, to ground you.

Then, like a freight train, it finally hits you, finally clicks, the thing he’s still hiding from you.

You suddenly remember the blanket of Elvis’ warmth surrounding you as you turned cold, bleeding out in his arms. The way his crystalline blues were terrified and beautiful and pleading. He rocked you in his arms, begging you not to leave him.

“No, no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go…”

Your heart stops. And you finally remember.

“…I-I love you, y/n, please, I love you.”

He’s loved you all along.

All of his cagey behavior, his deceit, the manipulations, it wasn’t to mess with you. It wasn’t because he didn’t care. It was because he loves you.

Tears stream freely down your cheeks as you turn around to face him. And as always, he’s right there, right where you need him.

“I…I…” is all you can manage to eek out.

He grabs your tear-stained cheeks in his big hands, his azure eyes deep and soulful, looking at you imploringly, and he whispers, “I love you. I’m in love with you. I love you more than anything in this life. I think I loved you the moment you steamrolled me in the hallway at school.”

Shock courses through you at hearing the words come out of his mouth, right here, in the present. You let out a choked, tearful laugh. It cuts through the anger you still feel and banishes your heartache, letting a swell of warmth overtake you. Despite all your feelings for him, you hadn’t even let yourself truly hope that he could feel the same way about you that you do about him. And to learn he’d felt this way for so long without your knowing…it feels inconceivable.

“I-I-I…and I’m so sorry, y/n.”

Elvis Presley doesn’t apologize. He buys obscenely lavish gifts. He skirts around the subject and gets really nice with those puppy dog eyes, but he doesn’t apologize, so this in itself floors you.

“I-I-I shoulda told you…but I thought…,” he steels himself against the emotions that are so obviously plaguing him before continuing, “that I’d taken advantage of you when you weren’t yourself, that I’d hurt you. I couldn’t live with myself, y/n. The guilt was eatin’ me alive and goddamn if I was gonna subject you to that pain. And I figured God wanted me to take on that burden for you, that there had to be a reason you didn’t remember. You wouldn’t have to face your betrayal of Jack or your regret for bein’ with me. I thought I was protectin’ you, protectin’ us.” He stops there, voice trembling, eyes open and honest, and you know then that while it had been wrong of him to hide this from you, he had truly believed that he was doing what was best for you. As mad as you are, part of you hurts for him because he’d gone through it all alone.

“I knew I couldn’t give you what you deserved, so I went meddlin’ in your life in the selfish need t’keep ya close to me, t’have some part of you as mine,” he rambles, racing through the words, utterly focused on getting out what he needs to say.

“I just needed you in my life. And I-I-I need you now. I needja more than anythin’,” he keeps going, his voice still shaking and the pads of his thumbs caressing your cheeks before trailing down your neck and your arms. You can feel them shaking, too, a sweaty heat emanating from them as he grabs your hands in his. His eyes are stormy and grey and deep with emotion, pulling you in, forcing you to accept his words.

He takes a deep, steadying breath before continuing. “It w-was wrong of me to-to sabotage what you had with Jack. And then to swoop in when you were vulnerable—it’s unforgivable. And if ya can’t forgive me…well, I-I’m gonna hafta understand. But I-I-I hope you do, that you can. I know I ain’t always a good man, y/n. I try to be, but bein’ with me—well, you already know it ain’t easy, the way my life is…” he trails off.

Part of you wants to interrupt him, to shout your love for him to the heavens, but frankly, his words have you speechless. And you know by his demeanor that he needs to get this out.

Tears pool in his eyes as he struggles to go on. “I know it’s been hard on you, all this. And if you can forgive me, if you wanna be with me, I promise I’ll do better t’make this work for ya. You make me a better man, y/n. You keep me on the ground, and God knows I need that more than anythin’,” he chuckles a little at that before his face drops into something much more serious.

“Come back to me, y/n. Please, come back to me. I love you,” he whispers, eyes imploring you. He is so used to demanding, but this he begs of you.

You are outwardly quiet, though your blood rushes in your ears. You want more than anything to concede to him with these revelations, to fall haplessly into his arms, and any other woman might. Honestly, you would have, just a few days ago, but Elvis cannot erase the harm he caused you with these welcome words or soulful singing or puppy dog eyes. You cannot escape the feelings of betrayal that have permeated through you these past few days.

“Elvis, I…I want to trust you again. I really do,” you finally get out, “because…because I love you, too. I think I have for a long, long time.”

Saying the words aloud lifts a weight from your shoulders, making you feel almost lightheaded. You were so scared to say them, to reveal this hidden part of you, and the way his face lights up in such a hopeful way, it almost makes you start crying again. He squeezes your hands so hard that it hurts. But you have more to say and can’t let this distract you.

“But my mind it—it made me forget. I don’t know exactly why or how. I think I was so afraid that I could never have you, that there was no way you’d ever in a million years have those kinds of feelings for me…I think I had to protect myself,” you explain.

An inner strength you didn’t know you had until this very moment allows you to keep going. You take a deep breath. “Elvis, I want to forgive you, and I want to be with you, I do. But I am exhausted. I am weary. And I am still angry at you, and at Jack, and at myself. I need a little time to figure out what my world is now, without the oppressiveness of Vegas pushing in on me.”

You look up at him, hoping he understands, hoping he is willing to give you what you so desperately need.

He blinks as if coming out of a trance, surprise and confusion and dismay playing out on his features so quickly. You know he expected something different from you, and as much as you want to give it to him immediately, you know you cannot.

“I need to leave Vegas, E. I need space. I want to forgive you, but I need to heal,” you say firmly, looking into his eyes, holding back the sob that wants to break through. You can only hope that he sees and hears the truth in you. “I can’t start a life with you like this, bruised and broken.”

He shakes his head, small at first and then in outright protest. “No, no, baby, please, I need you here. I love you,” he says with a mixture of frustration and pleading and hurt, grabbing your cheeks again.

Tears pool and fall freely now, but you stay resolute, grabbing his wrists. “No, right now you need to be Elvis Presley and finish this engagement strong. You need to show the world that you are back and to spread that joy of music and performing as only you can.”

“None of that matters, baby. No, I need to be with you. I’ll cancel the rest of the performances,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting you every step of the way.

“The hell you will, Elvis Aron Presley. That’s not what I want, not for me or for you,” you say fervently, pulling away to look at him, bringing your hands to his face this time. “You need this. Seeing you up there…you are more alive now than you’ve been in years. I know how much you love this and your fans—”

“I love you more,” he interrupts, and it both makes your heart soar and breaks it at the same time. You close your eyes briefly to center yourself before looking back at him.

“And I love you. But I need space, and you have to finish this. Once it’s done, once I’ve had time to heal and forgive, then you come back to me, you hear?” you say, unable to keep the emotion from your voice but keeping it resolute all the same.

You watch him struggle. You can see how young he looks all of a sudden and you know he’s afraid you’re abandoning him. You’re afraid, too, but if the two of you have made it this long, you can stand it a while longer. Ultimately, you know if you fall back into him now, you’ll always hold resentment and that will poison you both over time, and you can’t have that.

Elvis closes his eyes and nods once. “Okay,” he whispers, so quietly you can barely hear it. A lone tear streaks down his cheek.

“Okay,” you whisper back.

He kisses you then, so softly, so gently, that you can’t help but lean into it. The chaste kiss is mournful and longing and hopeful all at once. It’s a kiss that is laced with the possibility that it could be the last one. You desperately hope that isn’t true, but only time will tell.

When you both pull away, you can feel the tether between you, the one that has always been there, tighten.

“Will you go to Hillcrest?” he asks, raising his eyes to yours hopefully, but it is more an offer than a question. The house in Beverly Hills is his home away from home.

You consider this and realize, other than going home to your parents (who you don’t quite feel ready to face yet, either), it’s your only option. It’s also a concession that will keep you connected to him, and you are comfortable giving him that. With its gorgeous views and serene setting, it will be a perfect solace.

“Yes,” you respond, and he seems sated by that. “Thank you,” you add quietly, then before you can second guess yourself, you tear yourself gently from his grasp and walk out the door.

Graciously and swiftly, he has Jerry take care of all the arrangements. Sandy is set to join you, and once you are both packed and ready, Jerry takes you to the airport and sees you both off.

Before he leaves, Jerry stops you. “He wanted me to give you this,” he says quietly, then opens your hand and places something soft in it.

Surprised, you look down, and see the familiar pink silk scarf folded there. You haven’t seen it since Jack ripped it from your neck that horrible night. Your fingers close around it. The message is clear: The ball is in your court.

“Send it when you’re ready for him,” Jerry adds with a knowing look.

You nod. You put the scarf in your purse.

Elvis Presley loves me, you think as you sit on the plane, but that feels trite, knowing other women have been able to say the same at some point or another.

Elvis has loved me since we were teenagers. He’s in love with me and has been all this time.

Now that is something that sends a thrill right through you.

You reach into your purse and run the silk between your fingers.

When it’s time, I’ll know.

Four Weeks Later

The hot California morning sun beats down on the umbrella that shades you. You had been reading and wanted to get some fresh air, the cold of the air conditioning giving you a bit of a chill in your white sundress but you cannot help but close your eyes drowsily as the heat swallows you like a blanket.

The last month was restorative, to say the least. It had been such a relief to get out of the stifling cacophony of Vegas, and it had allowed your brain to rest and recover from your concussion. Your bruises healed, and Sandy was there to both listen and have a good time when you needed it. You talked and thought through all your memories, working to understand both your reasons and Elvis’ for the way things had gone for your entire relationship.

You hadn’t heard from Elvis, as he was taking your need for space seriously, but Elvis’ lawyer had visited a few times, drawing up divorce papers that surprisingly took you a few days to sign. Not because you didn’t want to, of course, but because you had to fully process all that had happened and what it all meant to you. Sandy sat through your crying and guilt and shame like a champ, supporting you wholeheartedly once you finally picked up the pen and signed away your destructive marriage.

Once the lawyer had called back a week later saying that Jack had signed the papers, you felt like a new woman. Like you could finally start anew. Part of you had expected more of a fight out of Jack, but you did not dwell on the reasons he might have signed so willingly.

Sandy had headed home to Memphis to join Jerry once the Vegas engagement and resulting celebrations were over. You sent the pink scarf with her, with instructions to give it to Elvis only once you called her to do so, once you were finally ready. She’d smirked and rolled her eyes but was happy to do it all the same.

“Whatever I can do to finally get you two idiots on the same page,” she’d said lovingly.

You’d called her last night.

You can’t help but feel nervous. Even though a month was certainly not the longest you two had gone without speaking, this time it felt poignant and heavy in another way entirely. Your thoughts ran away from you at times: What if he’s changed his mind? What if he met someone else in Vegas?

It was possible and even probable that he’d been with other women since you left. You know how he is, and a man like him is not liable to change overnight. But you’ve spent most of your relationship with other people, and he still loved you after all this time, so even if he had been with someone else, you doubted it meant anything at all.

Of course, it still sends a red heat of jealously through you all the same. You push the thought as far away as you can, swinging your legs off the lounge chair, puttering back inside.

The cool air hits you like a wall of ice, and you close the sliding glass door quickly, goosebumps raising on your skin.

“Y/n.”

The familiar drawling baritone freezes you in your tracks. As your eyes adjust to the darkness inside the house, his tall frame becomes apparent across the living room and goosebumps rise over your skin for an entirely different reason than the cool air.

He looks incredible, magnificent even, wearing a silky white button up, the buttons undone at the top to reveal his tan chest, a pair of perfectly tailored black pants flattering him in all the right ways. But most significantly, the pink and black scarf is draped around his neck.

“Elvis,” you whisper, your heart fluttering in your chest.

That tether that you’ve learned has always been subconsciously tying you two together yanks you towards him. Your book drops to the floor and your bare feet run for him before your brain can catch up to you.

He meets you halfway and you throw yourself into his open, waiting arms. Your lips crash together with fervor, thirsty for each other after such a long drought. Soft, sweet, pillowy lips drink you in as your heart races and he pulls you in tighter. His familiar scent and warmth engulf you in such a comforting way that it brings tears to your eyes.

When your kiss finally slows and you both come up for air, you whisper, “You came.”

“Of course, I came.” As if there was ever any doubt.

Elvis pulls you to the couch, cradling you in his lap as he showers you with gentle but intense kisses. The heat between you builds but unlike in Vegas, it is more patient—openly full of love and admiration.

“I missed you,” he says into your mouth, his statuesquely perfect nose nuzzling into yours.

“I missed you, too,” you admit with a smile.

“Good,” he smiles, that lip of his curling up almost shyly.

His lips find your cheek, then placing soft kisses over your nose and eyelids and your forehead, as if committing your bone structure to memory with his mouth. It is unhurried because, for once, you have all the time and privacy in the world. You sigh underneath the reverence of his kisses as they trail down your jaw.

“Baby,” you say, stopping him, “as much as I want to continue this, I have things I need to say before that happens.”

He gives you one last kiss before bringing his attention to you. His gorgeous azure eyes fix in on you in such a way that you feel overwhelmed. It’s amazing to you how, even after all these years, he still has the ability to completely render you speechless with his magnetism and beauty.

“Yes?” he says, steeling himself for what may or may not be coming.

You tear your gaze from him enough to refocus. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I need you to know that I forgive you, for all of it. I forgive you, and more than anything, I love you. I want to be with you, though I know we need to figure out what that looks like. I mean, if that’s what you still want, of course,” you fumble, looking away, not wanting to make assumptions.

“Oh, it’s very much what I want, lil’ mama,” he purrs happily and seductively, using his pointer finger under your chin to turn your head, bringing his lips once more to yours. Fire blooms in your chest and radiates down into your belly as his tongue dips into your mouth. “I love you. I want you to be with me. Always have, baby.”

“I signed the divorce papers, and so did Jack,” you blurt out, needing to make sure he knows and understands.

Elvis chuckles, the low rumbling vibrating under your hand on his chest. “I know, Satnin,” he drawls, his bedroom eyes sharp underneath the haze of lust you see in them.

“Of course, you do,” you laugh, shaking your head, taking the moment to run your fingers through his coiffed dark hair.

He looks at you deeply, firmly but gently grabbing your chin in his hand. “Let me be your everything,” he whispers. It is somehow both a question and a command.

Your stomach drops, but not out of fear this time. No, it is a tingling anticipation that wafts over you and makes your breath catch. You run your finger over his lips, pulling down on that full bottom one.

“Yes,” you nod. You unfurl from his arms and stand, reaching for his hand.

Elvis looks up at you through those long, dark lashes with something between wonder and eagerness. You pull him off the couch wordlessly, his fingers intertwining with yours as you lead him through the house to the master bedroom.

When you finally arrive, you look up at him almost bashfully. “I was wondering if we could try something new?” you ask. You’d been thinking about this for weeks now, all the different ways you want him, but this one thing had stuck in your mind after all you’d been through.

His eyes sparkle almost gleefully with curiosity and lust. “What’re you thinkin’, baby?” he purrs.

You take a deep breath before speaking. You’re not sure if he’ll go for it, but you figure it won’t hurt to ask. “I want to be in charge,” you finally say, matter-of-factly.

His dazed look at your request quickly turns to interest as his brow furrows with consideration. He doesn’t mull long, however, much to your pleasure, before uttering, “Hmm, why not, baby? Let’s try it.” He smiles coyly before bringing you in for a long kiss.

Your heart begins to thump in your chest. You’ve never done this, and you bite your lip, knowing that you have to change your attitude for him to take you seriously. You draw on the strength you’ve gained over these past weeks and take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“On your knees,” you command.

Elvis looks at you with amused surprise at the order. “What?”

“Did I stutter?”

His left eyebrow shoots up so far you think it may try to escape his pretty face and his brilliant blues go wide.

“No, ma’am,” he says, his voice getting breathy and quiet. His eyes don’t leave yours as he slowly sinks, his knees finally touching the floor.

A thrill shoots through you seeing him like this, humbled before you. This man who commands and dominates every room he walks into, brought to his knees for you. You doubt anyone in his adult life has truly had him like this. You relish in the way it makes your heart race in your ribcage.

“Say it again,” you whisper. He seems to know what you mean.

“I love you,” he replies quietly, his eyes open and shining up at you. There is an innocent and boyish quality to them.

With everything that has happened, you have a renewed sense of purpose and confidence which makes you bold.

You lean down and grab his chin in your hand firmly, feeling the light scratch of dark stubble under your fingers.

“Show me,” you command.

He nods furiously in compliance, that look of innocence tempered by sparks of lust in the depths of his oceanic blues. He is more than willing and up for the challenge, and the look sends a shiver of anticipation through you so strong that you can already feel warmth gathering low in your belly. It’s been over a month now since you had him last and each day felt like torture.

Elvis runs his hands up the backs of your calves, caressing your bare legs and resting on the backs of your thighs, his eagerness and yearning evident in his speed. He wants you, too, and he is oh so used to getting what he wants that it gives you pleasure to stop him.

“Uh uh,” you tsk, grabbing his chin again, “you’re gonna take it nice and slow, baby boy, and then maybe, if you’re really good, then you’ll get what you want.” It comes out like a purr, dangerous but alluring, surprising even you. But the look on his face is worth it, the way he nearly crumbles when you call him baby boy, the way his pouty mouth falls open slightly, the way he squirms on his knees, itching to take you but following your lead instead.

“Now, are you gonna be a good boy and do what I tell you?” you coo with an edge of warning. You’ve never in your life have done anything like this before, and you hadn’t planned this, but the control, the power just comes naturally, his responses fueling you forward.

He nods again, unconsciously wetting his plump lips with the tip of his tongue.

“Use your words,” you order.

“Uh-um, y-yeah, yes, I-I-I promise…mama,” he stutters out, picking up your cues and nodding, eyes are wide and becoming more yielding as he begins to submit to you.

Something about the way he does it has that warmth surging in your belly yet again.

“Good,” you say, running your nails up and through his raven locks, scraping his scalp and making his eyes roll back at your touch. You pull back quickly, leaving him a little breathless.

“No hands. Use your mouth,” you order with a smirk.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob with a gulp. “Yes, ma’am,” he replies, faster this time. He’s adapting quickly to your game, and the way he bows down to your feet, kissing the bare skin so softly as he makes his way slowly up your ankle to your calf has a thrill shivering through you. His pillowy lips and the tip of his tongue brush and lick their way up your legs, as he alternates one to the other. The sensation, especially after being deprived of his touch for so long, has you sighing softly, and his eyes roll up to yours, framed deliciously by those impossibly long and dark lashes. The blue of them has darkened with lust, but they remain compliant and eager to please.

That alone has the coil in your belly rapidly tightening, and you feel wetness begin to seep into your panties the closer his mouth comes to the place you want him the most.

Your breathing speeds up with this teasing when he meanders under your dress, peppering kisses along your panty line until his hot breath ghosts over the thin cotton of your panties. It puffs over your clit, and you pull your dress up with one hand to watch. His hands fly up to your ass of their own accord, squeezing and clutching at your panties to bring them down.

Using your other hand, you fist it tightly in his hair, yanking his head back and forcing him to look at you. “What did I say about hands, baby boy? I thought you were gonna be good for mama,” you tsk, shaking your head.

It’s a test. You relish in watching him quell the dominant urges he’s having by biting back a smirk of insolence, his lip sandwiched between his teeth so hard he could break the skin. The fire in his eyes almost dares you until he sees the serious look in your own and you tighten your grip in his hair. He winces a little and you watch him consider his options. You don’t let up during this battle of wills, unyielding and unbreaking of the eye contact that might usually level you.

No, after the last six weeks, this time you are going to get what you want.

Finally, he gets it, letting his arms drop to his sides. His face smooths, that innocence returning, and he submits completely to you.

“Good boy,” you breathe, releasing the grip on his hair and running your thumb over his lush bottom lip. His mouth opens and you push your thumb in, scraping at his teeth, then pushing into the soft warmth of his pink tongue. A low moan escapes him as his eyelashes flutter, and you allow him to suck it in, rolling his tongue over your thumb. A pleasured hum escapes your lips at the sensual sensation, and you feel it tingle straight down into your pussy.

“Try again,” you say, looking down at him, pulling out your thumb. You pull up your dress once more.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispers eagerly, and you see the wheels turning for a moment before he continues. This time, he sits on his hands before he kisses directly over your sensitive nub, wetting the fabric with his tongue before kissing upwards. Then, he snaps the elastic between his teeth and slowly but surely pulls your panties down your legs. Your slick is already evident in the fabric, leaving little trails down your thighs. Gravity takes hold once they reach your knees, and they drop to the floor.

“There’s my clever boy,” you praise him, stepping out of your underwear, running your thumb over his high cheekbone. This causes that signature crooked, boyish smile to spread across his features, reminding you just how incredibly beautiful he is.

And he’s all yours.

As he lathes his tongue back up your thighs, cleaning the slick from them on the way back up to your core, your body shudders with delight and you feel him smiling against your skin. Looking down you see it is not a smirk, but genuine pleasure at making you feel good, and that sends warmth through your chest in addition to the heat rapidly building in your core.

You cannot help the moan of pleasure that escapes you when he finally reaches the apex between your legs and flattens his tongue over your folds. He drags it slowly, deliberately, ending with little flicks on your clit. Heat rolls over you, setting every nerve aflame, and this time when you grab his hair, it is to pull him encouragingly closer into your wet curls.

“Yes, good boy, just like that,” you sigh breathlessly as he begins to shower your pussy with attention, going slowly as you requested. He is soft and persistent, swathing gently through your folds, parting your labia with his tongue before rolling back to your clit. Oh, lord, he is so very versed in this, you remember quickly, as he suckles and presses soft kisses to that most sensitive place.

Your eyes fall shut as you grip his head and shoulder for balance. You cannot help the keening and panting that begins to emanate through you as the coil in your pelvis tightens. Even after only a short amount of time together, he somehow knows exactly how to play you for the most pleasure.

In a daze, your eyes open and you look down at him, his dark hair messy from your hands. That’s when you notice it: he is not touching you with his hands, as promised, but you see how he’s somehow undone his trousers without your knowing. You watch silently for a moment as one of his ring clad hands fondles and tugs at his cock, and it sends a thrill of arousal through you to catch a glimpse of him pleasuring himself like this when he doesn’t know you’re watching. Battling the swell of ecstasy that rockets through you, you curiously watch how his hand slides up and down over his length, pulling at the foreskin that mostly envelops his red tip, how his long thumb glides effortlessly over it, swirling the slick of precum around and over and down. It’s a well-practiced motion and it almost seems unconscious considering the way he is utterly focused on your pussy.

You gasp with pleasure as he massages your clit deftly with his tongue, and coupled with watching him jack off, you feel a desperation for more friction, more of him, building until you realize that it is you who is in control of this moment, not him. With a swell of need you push him back abruptly, his eyes bewildered, and lips shining with your arousal, hand still on his cock, wondering what he did wrong.

“Oh, what a naughty little boy you are. I didn’t say you could touch yourself. I didn’t say you could get yourself off, did I?” you say in a chastising tone.

And, oh god, the bashful look he gives you, dropping his cock, and how his cheeks redden at being caught as he looks down, those lashes fanning out, has you biting back a smile and more heat swelling under your dress.

“No, ma’am,” he says mournfully, shaking his head slightly. And then he’s blinking up at you with those deep blues, waiting for what you are going to do next, what his “punishment” might be, you realize.

“I guess I’m gonna need to teach you a lesson then,” you sigh with exasperation. But his disobeying you only serves to make you more aroused. You put your foot on his chest and push him down and backwards with a low growl. It’s like something primal has come over you, not only your need to dominate him, but also this flaming heat consuming your body and needing his mouth on you more definitively.

“Get on your back,” you demand.

Elvis scrambles backwards quickly and you are grateful for his flexibility as he easily untangles his legs from underneath him and falls back onto the thick shag carpeting. You step over him, sliding your dress up and over your head as you do so, leaving you in only your bra. When you look down, you see his blissed-out eyes wandering over your body with something akin to awe.

You lower yourself down to your knees, straddling his chest, which is already heaving from his arousal. He’s wearing the pink silk scarf, the one from your first night together, and it feels fitting, you think, as you lord over him and unravel it from around his neck. He watches you so intently in any other circumstance you might falter under his gaze, but while blown with lust, you can see by that bashful look in his eyes that he is committed to following your lead here.

“Hands above your head, baby boy,” you coo, running your hands up the underside of his arms, guiding them over his head. “Since you can’t seem to keep from doing naughty things with them, I’ll have to make you stop,” you admonish.

You sit fully on his chest then, feeling as the wetness of your cunt stains the front of his lovely silky shirt, and then you lean over, fully aware that it puts your breasts temptingly over his face. You hear him whimper, knowing he can’t touch you, and you smile as you use the black and pink scarf to tie his wrists together above his head.

You intertwine your fingers with his as you slowly pull back over his body, scooting your hips back as you go until your face is hovering just above his. He’s panting now, little puffs of breath coming from his lips as you ghost your own over his face. Tipping his chin up to try and capture a kiss, you pull back a bit.

“Nuh uh, baby boy. You have work to do first,” you shake your head, kissing the tip of his nose. Then you tempt him by flicking the tip of your tongue over the beautifully perfect cupid’s bow of his upper lip, and he fully whines and squirms under you.

You laugh at that, the fact that you are able to put him in this position, to make him want you enough to be vulnerable and needy like this. Then you become more serious, looking him in the eyes.

“Now use that wicked little mouth of yours to make me come,” you say in a low, sultry, daring tone. “And no touching unless I say so!”

“Y-y-yes, ma’am,” Elvis moans as you maneuver your body up and over his head, bracketing it in with your thighs. Your need for him is quite evident as you lower your already-soaking pussy onto his face and as his pouty mouth kisses your most sensitive areas, you know you are so wound already from this little game of yours that you fear you might come undone too soon.

You’ve never done this before and while part of you is a little worried about the mechanics and fears smothering him, that primal, instinctual part of you starts rocking your hips over his mouth.

“Oh!” you gasp quietly, unable and unwilling to contain the soft moans that his lips and tongue begin drawing out of you as you begin to ride his mouth. When he fully groans against you, the vibrations send a shockwave through your core, nearly snapping that coil inside you already. You steady yourself, finding a comfortable rhythm, and experimentally run your hands up your torso, using them to grope your breasts. You feel him moan again and look down to see him carefully watching you, his eyes blown black.

Sensing how it’s driving him wild, you lift your hips a little to give him air and reach down under the lace of your bra, using the pads of your fingers to lightly drag against the sensitive areola, taunting him and pinching your nipples to attention with a moan of your own.

“Fuckkkk,” he breathes out, the air tickling your labia.

“Language!” you hush him and plant back down on his face. His arms fight to come down and grab you, but between being tied and the way your weight is, he cannot, and groans against you again instead. He works you tirelessly now as you writhe over him and you feel that telltale tightening begin in earnest. You are nearly desperate as his tongue lathes against your folds again and again, dipping in and out of your hole, circling your clit and back again. He eats you expertly, willingly, and you ache for him.

“Good boy, there’s my good baby,” you pant quietly as your heart flutters and your breathing starts to hitch.

But when his tongue slips daringly lower, perhaps accidentally, perhaps not, you careen forward with a shocked gasp as it grazes your other hole.

“Elvis!” you gulp, clasping his hands with your own to steady yourself, stilling your hips. You aren’t quite sure how you feel about that slip yet, only knowing that it’s a place that has been forbidden before now. Your heart pounds so hard you hear the blood in your ears, your body on high alert.

“Hmmm?” is his only response before he tests you again, gently, letting his tongue circle that illicit spot lightly.

“Elvissss…” The moan escapes you before you can stop it because the unfamiliar feeling of his tongue there has your already aroused body teeming with the new sensation and you know you shouldn’t like it, you’re not supposed to like it…

“Yes? You like that mama?” he replies surprisingly bashful, submissively, compared to the sensual dominance that you are used to from him.

“I-I-I’m not sure, baby boy,” you finally stammer out honestly.

You feel him nod underneath you, as if understanding, and he goes back to suckle your clit, making you jump a little and roll your hips. And when his tongue travels back through your swollen folds and he goes a little farther to include that little secret spot, you can’t help but cry out in pleasure this time.

He smiles against you, and you respond by rolling harder on his face, effectively shutting him up. The carnality that flows through you banishes your prudishness and you let him kiss and eat you fully now, from hole to clit, letting the sensations consume you completely.

You fuck his face wildly. You don’t try to stop the keening noises crying from your lips, you just grip his hands for dear life as the coil inside you constricts, your body flooded with fire, desperate for the blast of release his talented mouth promises you. Frantic now, chasing that high, your body tenses over him and he groans loudly into your cunt, his tongue deep inside you, as your thighs squeeze his head.

The peak hits you incredibly hard and you cry out as you shatter above him. White stars flash behind your eyes followed by inky blackness. You can barely breathe for the way it hits you. He continues to lick and suck you through your orgasm, coaxing you, moaning into you in order to continue your pleasure for as long as possible. He devours every drop of your arousal. Shaking and shuddering and oversensitive, you finally scoot your hips back, allowing him to come up for air with his own gasp.

“Did I do good, mama?” he puffs, looking pleased, his face covered in your slick.

“You did perfect, baby boy,” you breathe out, kissing his cheeks, then his swollen lips, tasting your tangy sweetness there. Your body shivers with aftershocks as you come back into yourself, your mind concocting all the ways you want him tonight, all the ways in which you can show him your love and vice versa.

You look down at him, enjoying the sight of pussy-drunk lust on his boyish features, the vulnerability of his hands restrained above his head, the way his bedroom blues dreamily follow your gaze and your lead.

Your need for him feels insatiable. You want to wreck him, ruin him, in the best way possible. Biting your lip you roll your hips into his waist, feeling the cold of his belt sear into your bare core and Elvis’ eyes roll back a little as you drag your nails down over the part of his chest that is exposed above his shirt.

“You gonna continue to be good for mama, baby boy?” you lean down to coo in his ear, scootching your hips back just enough to feel the tip of his rock-hard length through his pants, and you can feel the shudder that ripples through him.

He nods furiously. “Y-yes, mama, oh yes, I’ll be good.”

“I’m so glad, baby,” you whisper, “Mama’s got somethin’ special in store for you.”

Elvis whimpers at that, and you can tell it is taking every ounce of self-control he has to keep from taking you right there and then, but he stays good and still and relatively quiet for you. You kiss down the shell of his ear, nibbling on the perfect lobe, and then you focus your attention on the divot just behind it where his jaw meets his skull. Lapping there for a minute, you take your time as he hums and tenses beneath you, turning his head the opposite direction to give you the access you want. You make your way agonizingly slowly down his neck, using your lips and teeth and tongue in all the ways you’ve learned he likes. By the time you reach his collarbone, he is practically writhing under you.

His breath is beginning to heave and become labored when you start down his tanned chest, the course hair there tickling your lips as you go. One by one, you pop the remaining buttons open, and with each, a pretty little huff escapes his pouting lips. Oh, how beautiful he looks with his cheeks all flushed and his hair mussed, those eyes alternating between peering down at you and looking up to the heavens.

Once again you move your hips back, this time hovering just above the erection raging in his pants. It’s enough that he can feel your heat, but you give him no friction whatsoever, and this is what finally has him bucking his hips up desperately, but you are prepared, dodging well out of the way before he finds any sort of relief.

“Now, now, that’s not how good boys behave,” you tsk at him, earning a huff in response. You use your nails to scratch down his now-exposed treasure trail, your lips following close behind and he fully whines by the time you reach the belt line.

“Please, please, mama,” he mewls at you, raising his head to look at you with begging eyes.

“All in good time,” you muse quietly, shooting him a soft smile.

You take your time with his heavy belt and zipper, causing him to spring forth, his cock hard and veiny, precum already oozing a sticky string between his tip and his abdomen, but you leave him there, untouched. Moving lower, you slowly, deftly, remove one shoe, then the other, doing the same with his socks. Then you pull his pants down his long legs, letting your fingers ghost over his sensitive skin. It’s torture, based on the way he squirms and sighs, and you find yourself full of emotions.

A small part of you relishes in making him squirm after finding out what he’d kept from you all these years, for all the time you may have lost with him because of his self-righteous ego. But a much larger part of you wants this with him, for him, because you know he’s likely not given himself to anyone like this. Not the great Elvis Presley, the man who strives for excellence and control in all things. You cannot imagine him letting just any woman bring him to his knees, tying him up, letting her have her way with him. At least you hope not.

But perhaps that is your own ego talking.

But a sense of unease, jealously perhaps, wafts over you, diminishing your confidence slightly.

“Baby boy?” you hum pensively at him, running your finger softly up the sole of his foot, causing him to jump and giggle a little.

“Yes, mama?” he responds softly, tilting his chin down to look at you.

You frown, worrying your lip a little, wanting to approach this skillfully as not to ruin the mood, but you have to know. Now that the thought is there, you must know.

“Have you ever let anyone else do this? Touch and tease you like this?” you ask, trying to keep your voice sultry and light, running your fingers up the underside of his arm, dragging across the pink silk that binds his wrists.

His brow furrows for a moment as he tries to interpret what’s going on underneath the bravado you’re showing, trying to glean your true meaning, and then his face softens and smooths with realization, his eyes wide and open for you. “Not like this, mama. Just for you. Only you,” he says genuinely, and you know it’s true, that he’s not just giving you lip service within the game you are playing.

“Good,” you nod, more moved by this than you want to show right now, your heart swelling with this new knowledge. You kiss him gently and softly on the lips.

“Do you trust me?” you add more mischievously, your confidence returning.

“Completely,” he nods back.

“Then it’s time to get on the bed, baby boy,” you purr.

He brings his arms down in front of his abdomen, the scarf still taut at his wrists and his shirt open and flowing behind him, and you help him to standing. His eyes sparkle a little with what you think is anticipation. Once to the bed, he snakes his long, beautiful body backwards until he is lying up against the dark pillows.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him lying there, vulnerable and all yours. Getting between his legs, you start at his feet, massaging the ropey muscles with your hands, and alternately kissing your way over the arches, his ankles, and up his calves, up every perfect part of him. You pay attention closely to these spots you’ve never really explored before, listening and watching him carefully. When his breath catches, or he hisses in through his teeth, you know it’s extra sensitive, and of course, when his mouth falls open and his eyes roll back you know you’ve hit the jackpot.

You take your sweet time working up his muscled legs, bringing up and opening his knees to give you more access to what you are finding is the highly sensitive flesh of his inner thighs. Warmth rolls through you when you nip there, very close to his balls and he nearly jumps off the bed.

“Stay still and be good, baby boy,” you purr at him with a sly smile against his leg, and he whines in protest but stills himself. You think it’s high time you give him some well garnered attention to his large, heavy testicles. His musky scent fills your nostrils, setting your biological need for him on fire. You wiggle a little on your knees with anticipation but since you aren’t sure exactly what he likes or what his boundaries are yet, you want to make sure he has an out.

“Baby,” you say seriously, looking into his eyes, “if you really want me to stop, like really, I need you to tell me, okay? Say…” You stop, looking around for inspiration, something he would never say in the heat of the moment, and then your eyes land. Perfect.

“Say ‘pink scarf’ if you really want me to stop baby, okay?” you urge.

Elvis nods, looking excited and also a little concerned at the prospect of what you might do to him to require him to use such a phrase. “Pink scarf, got it,” he breathes.

With that, you feel better, and return your attentions down in between his legs. His cock is hard and buoyant against his pelvis, precum glistening the angry red tip that is peeking out from his lighter foreskin, but that is not what you’re going to focus on, not yet.

Using your thumbs, you apply gentle pressure to the insides of his thighs, massaging slow circles up, up, up, closer to his most sensitive areas. Lying on your stomach between his open legs, you test the waters by running your nails softly over the darkened, wrinkly skin of his ball sac.

He hisses in at that, his lower half tensing as you gently continue, using your thumb, pointer, and middle fingers to explore the area. In his arousal, his balls are pulled up tight to him, but it doesn’t detract from the fact they are still rather large compared to what you’re used to. His breathing becomes more labored as you roll his testes between your fingers, cupping them, then pulling gently.

His hips roll and wiggle. You love the effect you are having on him, the way he responds so readily under your touch, and you wonder if this is what it’s like for him when he plays with you. It sends heat of a different kind rolling through your body each time he jolts or gasps.

Which is exactly what he does when you nuzzle his sac with your nose before flattening your tongue against the seam and licking a long stripe from back to front. His hips rise off the mattress and running your hands over the crease of where his legs meet his torso, you push those famous narrow hips back down to the bed.

“Oh mama, oh mama,” he whispers quietly, almost like a begging prayer, as you continue lathing your tongue back and forth and up and down over his balls. He begins to writhe in earnest, despite your hands holding him, his legs pulling up and boxing you in.

“Be still,” you command, lifting your head, pushing his bent legs back open.

He obeys instantly, looking down at you with wild, shining eyes, nodding almost unconsciously in reply, as if preparing himself for whatever you deem to do next.

You use your hands again, one to push his legs up, tilting him towards you, the other rolling him like dice, before lifting his sac enough to lick the underside completely. Taking inspiration from his playbook, you then flick down over his taint, applying pressure with your tongue, his musky scent consuming you.

He moans long and loud at that, unable to contain himself as you shower this newly found spot with all your attention. As you lick and press and roll, he mewls and begins to shudder. Your heart beats faster against your ribcage at his reactions, how he pants above you, and you wonder what will happen if you press your thumb to that softer spot right above his puckered hole.

So you do. You press that spot over and over and watch him tremble and writhe until he looks damn well possessed.

“Please, oh please, oh GOD!” he cries out and eventually his entire body tenses, hips lifting as though he were coming inside you, and he shudders wildly before falling hard back onto the bed. Heart pounding, you lift your head to see a milky white leak from his tip. It’s not cum in the sense you are used to, but some sort of release nevertheless.

You’re not one hundred percent sure what just happened, but you are pleased you made him feel so good. You watch him lying there, gasping from pleasure, his hands clenching and releasing against their bonds, trying to recover from whatever that was. His face is flushed red, making the blue of his arousal-darkened eyes look almost preternatural, and tears leak, dampening his dark lashes. He looks positively bewildered.

“Good job, baby boy,” you praise him, kissing the inside of his knee.

“Wh-wh-what w-was that, mama?” he gasps, asking.

“That ever happen before?” you respond, curious, instead of answering him.

He shakes his head, his hair flopping as it lolls from side to side.

“Hmm…well, did it feel good, baby?” you ask because you aren’t entirely sure what happened, but you don’t let him know that. You don’t let him know about your own fresh arousal that’s leaking down the sides of your thighs or how your heart is fluttering in your throat at the sight of him such a mess before you. Not yet.

He nods furiously, eyes unfocused.

You smile at the blissed-out look on his face. You crawl up him to give his open lips a little kiss. “Mama’s not done with you yet, baby boy,” you whisper against his lips before pulling back.

His dreamy eyes go wide, but you don’t dwell, instead making haste to kiss down his chest once more, stopping to tongue and scrape his nipples with your teeth, making him jump underneath you once again. You kiss down the flat planes of his belly, detouring to give a little attention to his bound hands, sucking a digit or two into your mouth on the way down.

He fully shivers at that, moaning, sending a thrill of your own down to your toes. His belly is already heaving again with anticipation as you arrive at your next destination. His length bounces as his stomach moves, the milky white having leaked onto his belly, but whatever release he’d had did not affect the hardness of his cock, much to your pleasure.

Your goal here is to worship and tease, rather than the ways you’d had him in your mouth before. The way he’d fucked down into your throat both gently and harshly prior to this was not going to be his experience this time. No, this time is all about giving him a night he’s unlikely to ever forget. It is about claiming him as your own while showering him with love and attention on your terms. You’ve never had that before, not truly, and oh how sweet you are finding it already…

First, all you do is hover over his cock, so closely that he can feel your hot breath against him as you run your open mouth up and down his shaft. He squirms his hips from left to right, his hands fisting, and you can sense how it is taking everything in him not to buck up into you.

“Mamaaaa…need y-you,” he begs.

This makes you smirk coyly.

“Hush, baby,” you admonish him with a furrowed brow, stilling his hips again with your hands. “Be a patient good boy and you’ll get what you need.” Eventually…you think smugly.

He can only manage a whimper in response.

Finally, you place soft, barely there kisses up his shaft, feeling his rapid pulse through the throbbing veins. His foreskin awaits and you kiss gently around it, and it must be very sensitive because he’s fully gasping now, quiet “uh, uh, uhs” escaping his lips. Using only your tongue, you dip it into and under the foreskin, swirling it around the head.

“Oh, oh, no, t-too much, too much, mama!” he half moans-half cries, nearly levitating off the bed, but you don’t stop, instead sucking the tip of him into your mouth and soothing the head with your tongue.

You look up at the man you are in love with, in all his messy ecstasy, as tears stream down the sides of his pretty face, but he does not say the words, only sighing at this little bit of relief you give him. So, you continue, after this moment of reprieve, sending your tongue up and down his shaft, then kissing and tonguing his sensitive tip as though it were a dripping ice cream cone on a hot summer day.

“Please, please, please,” Elvis pants out of that wonderous and full mouth of his. By the time you use your hand to fondle his balls again, he is so fully enraptured, staring up into the mirrors above you, that you’re not sure he’s even on the same plane as you anymore.

God, it has you nearly coming undone yourself to see him like this, bringing him closer and closer to the edge without letting him fall over. You find yourself pressing your thighs together, desperate for your own friction.

His gorgeous eyes flutter down to you as you once again tongue his tip. “B-bein’ good, m-mama, please, needju,” he whimpers, his words slurring together.

“Bein’ so good, baby boy,” you praise him, then you take him fully into your mouth, pumping once, twice, and then you feel his entire body tense and shake.

“F-f-fuuuuckkk,” he groans gutturally, his hips bucking into your throat, coming completely undone nearly instantly. His eyes roll back into his head, beads of sweat mixing with the tears down his face, and the prominent vein in his neck pulses in time with his salty, thick release. It coats your tongue, and you swallow him down readily before gently lathing your tongue over the tip of his sex. He squirms under you, rocked and hypersensitive as you pop off him.

“Thank you, mama,” he whispers, looking so relieved and sex drunk that you are beside yourself now. Every nerve ending inside you is on fire. Before he can soften, you climb onto his lap, lining him up with your entrance and sliding him through your soaking folds and into your heat.

Elvis’ eyes widen in shock and he wiggles his hips down into the mattress as if trying to escape. little “ah ah ah!” puffs come from his lips, like he’s handling a hot potato.

“M-mama, ah, ah! I-I-I can’t,” he shakes his head before slamming it back onto the bed.

“Oh, you can, baby boy, you can, I promise,” you say breathlessly, relishing the feel of him filling you, even though he’s beginning to soften slightly. You roll your hips in his lap. “You’re gonna keep being such a good boy and make me come, right, baby?” you encourage demurely, hooking enough into his ego and his need to please you to keep him going.

All you know is that you need him, need to keep him inside you, to have him fill you up, even if you have to wait.

The noise that comes from him is somewhere between a groan and a growl, his eyes screwing shut for a moment as he tries to compose himself enough to continue. You still, placing your hands on his chest, and wait for his response.

“How about this? You’ve been so good for mama. I’m gonna take this scarf off you and you use those hands to show me some love while we wait,” you say.

That has him opening those glassy, pretty eyes of his and nodding.

“Mama’s gonna keep makin’ you feel real good, don’t you worry now, baby,” you tut at him, untying the knots at his wrists. The silk yields easily. You lean forward on top of his chest and throw it around his neck.

Elvis rolls his wrists a few times then wraps his arms around your back, holding you fast to him while he continues to breathe heavily. The feeling of being draped on him and held in his long arms sends an almost wholesome warmth through your body. Oh, how you missed being close to him like this. It’s almost as if you didn’t know it until this very second, that string that has been pulling you two together for so long finally loosening as you fall unencumbered into each other’s arms.

After a long moment, he calms and his hands start roaming slowly over your back. You can feel the cool of his rings against your fiery skin and it sends shivers through you. You feel starved for him, hence your desperate need to have him inside you and to show him with every fiber of your being that you will be all he ever needs from here on out.

You hum softly, pleased, when his hands find your ass, your hips, and you swivel them. He is soft inside you for the moment, at least, and you feel the sharp intake of breath at your movements, his hands gripping you to keep you still.

Still sensitive, you think.

His hands flutter up and down your sides then, softly enough to make you want more. You can hear his heart pounding in his chest, the rhythm beginning to match yours the longer you stay intertwined. This is what you’ve been missing, needing, all along. Him vulnerable and sated under you. Knowing that you are the only one he truly wants. Knowing that it’s been that way for almost as long as you’ve known him.

“Say it again,” you whisper into his neck, kissing his pulse points.

It only takes him a moment to understand what you are asking.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“Mmmm,” you hum, kissing your way up his strong, angular jaw to his lips. “Again.”

“I love you.” It rumbles in his chest so you can feel it vibrate into yours.

Each time he says it, it dances through you, lighting up all the dark spaces that were so afraid and convinced he would never feel the same.

You kiss his lips, softly at first, then deepening as your own love pours out of you and into him.

His hands are everywhere now, one tangling in your hair, the other snapping the clasp of your bra undone. Your mouths separate just long enough for you to rip off the lace and fling it to the side. The feel of his bare chest against yours makes you feel like you are melting into him. Your mouths are unhurried but intense, tongues exploring, devouring each other whole.

“I love you,” you say into his mouth, voice hushed and reverent.

He pauses for a moment, pulling back just enough for you to get lost in the oceanic depths of his eyes as they gaze at you adoringly, as if memorizing your features. “I’m yours,” he says. Then he pulls you back down to him, his mouth consuming you once more.

You’re not sure how long you lay there, kissing, touching, exploring each other as if it were the first time, but it is long enough that you feel him begin to stiffen inside of you once more, just as you knew he would. Slowly, you begin to rock on top of him, your hands and lips tracing his Apollo-like features. Your fingers rake through his raven hair, damp with sweat from the exertion.

Elvis’ hands cup your face, your neck, tangling through your hair, caressing your breasts. He touches you reverently, though as your passions increase, his hands light streams of fire over your skin wherever they deem to touch. A heated coil tightens again in your belly, more gradually this time, but deep all the same.

The room is quiet, save for the heavy breathing that has synced between the two of you, a hushed feeling that matches the intensity of your lovemaking. His deep gaze threatens to consume you from below as you ride him, and every cell in your body is being called to his.

He fills you in ways no one ever has and as no one ever could. Perhaps he was made just for you, you think, with how perfectly you align. You realize that this is the first time you’ve had him with all your memories intact. Every moment the two of you have had since the beginning now swells between you, a now shared history that makes this moment all the more poignant.

You are lost in the depths of him just as much as he is lost in you. You can see it now, so obviously, and you wonder how you spend so very long without him. Beyond his talent, beyond his gorgeousness, lies that both human yet ethereal man, and he is wonderful and he is flawed, and he is finally yours.

He expertly touches your sensitive bud, sending you careening towards the edge of an abyss that once frightened you. Because of course this was never just about sex, though your brain tried to trick you, making you forget that your love for him started so very long ago. But what terrified you six weeks ago now feels ripe with possibility. What made you feel trapped has now been set free. And as that coil snaps and you fracture above him, it allows your true self to emerge for the first time in a very long time.

“I love you, Elvis,” you breathe, locking eyes with him as you fall, knowing he will be there to catch you.

Your moan of pleasure, his name a whispered prayer on your lips, coupled with the sight of you has him following right behind you, all his years of fear and guilt splintering into pieces along with the most intense orgasm he has ever had.

“I love you, y/n,” he returns in equal measure.

You collapse into his arms, unaware of the tears on your face until you feel them wetting the pink scarf that somehow remains around his neck. Elvis holds you to him, his fingers twirling the ends of your hair, not just with possessiveness and control, but with unfettered love. There is aways to go between the two of you in your relationship, now that you remember everything that has happened, but you have no doubt that the two of you will figure it all out, together this time.

For the first time in forever, you feel truly at peace.

Finally, you are exactly where you need to be.

With the man you love eternally, who loves you just as much.

Here, with Elvis.

Please let me know in the comments/DMs/asks if you are interesting in buying a physical and/or ebook of Pink Scarf (with bonus chapters/material)! 💗🧣💗

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211 @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy @amiets2 @saintmagx

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@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch @tattywood

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otakusheep15 · 4 months

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Winter Holiday with Twisted Wonderland

Hi everyone! It's been forever since I made an actual post. I've been trying to write for the past month, but the world just does not want me to lol. But I made it through 2023 and now it's the new year, so I thought it was time I post something again.

This is basically little blurbs of how I think the boys would spend their winter holidays. I'm trying to keep everything ambiguous since I don't know what they celebrate, and I also want everyone who reads this to feel somewhat included at least, so this is me trying my best. If it feels a little rough, that's largely because I'm still trying to fight the writer's block lol. Still, I hope y'all enjoy!

First Years

Ace Trappola: He mostly spends his time relaxing. It's not much different for him than any other season. He enjoys the vibes of winter, but he's not the biggest fan of the cold, so he does his best to stay inside. A big secret of his is that he'll secretly binge all of the cheesy romance movies airing around this time. He'd never admit it though.

Deuce Spade: A lot of his time is spent with his mom, as per usual. Lots of shopping days and going to winter farmers' markets. They also spend time at home drinking hot cocoa and watching holiday movies. He does also enjoy a good afternoon jog through the snow if it's not too much.

Jack Howl: He loves the winter very much. It's his favorite season. He spends most of his days outside playing in the snow with his siblings and enjoying the cold air. The one thing he dislikes his how he grows a double coat to keep him warm, meaning he sheds a lot more than usual. Other than that, he's having fun. Anytime it snows, his tail is going wild with excitement.

Epel Felmier: From dawn until dusk, he's either in the fields tending to crops or out in the crowds selling products. When he's done with work, he likes to curl up in front of a warm fire and work on his carvings. His hands always have to be moving, even when he's meant to be relaxing.

Ortho Shroud: He's spending time with his brother. Idia is not the best at socializing, so he does his best to make sure Idia has someone during these months considering how bad seasonal depression can get. He's also trying to help Idia get more out there, and enjoy the festivities of the season, even if he knows it won't work.

Sebek Zigvolt: He spends winter the same way he spends the rest of his time, with Malleus. Or, that's what he wants to be doing. Instead, he's given a vacation, much to his displeasure. So now he's spending time with his family. It's a little awkward being gone from his station for so long, but he will admit (to himself, begrudgingly) that it is somewhat nice to have a break.

Second Years

Riddle Rosehearts: Winter is always a bit strange for him. He's so used to spending it at home under strict conditions that it takes him some time to get used to the freedom he now has. He likes to spend his time sitting by a fireplace with a book and some tea. Now that he's independent, he likes having this time to relax instead of worrying about family.

Ruggie Bucchi: He spends time back in his childhood home. He visits his grandma and helps take care of the neighborhood kids. They're full of energy and like playing around when it snows, so of course he joins them. He'll also spend time cooking warm meals with whatever ingredients he can scrounge up.

Azul Ashengrotto: Winters are a busy time for him. It's the season of giving according to some, so he's taking full advantage in any way he can. He's striking deals with anyone he comes across and just generally doing the same shady things he usually does. However, he is also consciously taking breaks and making sure to spend time with his family, or at least calling them if he's above the surface.

Jade Leech: He's tending to his terrariums. Winter is not the best for a lot of his plants, so he has to give them extra attention lest they wilt. It's a lot of hard work, but he's very dedicated to them and he's willing to put in the effort. He also begins working on winter-specific plant life and fungi as well so that he can grow his collection.

Floyd Leech: He gets the winter zoomies. The cold makes him extra hyper and excitable, so he's running around a lot more than usual. Ever since discovering snow, he's loved it, so he's spending most of his time rolling around and playing in it. He also loses whatever loose sleep schedule he had and just passes out whenever his body physically can't anymore.

Kalim al-Asim: He prefers summer, but winter is fun too! While he is busy helping his dad and getting trained to succeed him, he still makes sure to take time to have fun. He and his siblings will go out and play around in the snow and just have fun however they can. He can't always handle the cold like his siblings can, but he does his best to keep up with them.

Jamil Viper: He's given a vacation on the request (read: demands) of Kalim, so he's relaxing. For once he has no responsibilities, and he's living his best life. He's making warm curry for himself and catching up on books he's never had the chance to read. He does have the urge to go back to work early, but he forces those urges away.

Silver Vanrouge: He's spending time with his father. Winter makes him extra tired, so he spends a lot of it inside sleeping. Lilia stays with him for a lot of it, and they bond. He'll cook warm meals and they'll watch movies together. They also make sure to visit Malleus often so that he isn't lonely.

Third Years

Trey Clover: The bakery is busy this time of year, so he's mostly occupied with that. He's baking, running the store, making deliveries, and keeping up with orders. There's very little free time, but the time he does have is spent with his siblings. They play in the snow together, watch movies, and drink warm cocoa by the fire. His parents will also join in if they have the time, which is even less common than him.

Cater Diamond: He's keeping up with all of the winter trends of course. He's taking selfies in the snow, reviewing all of the winter exclusive products available, and blasting classic winter music. He loves this time of year because of how festive and fun it is, but it also drains him very quickly on the inside, so the seasonal depression hits quick as well. He won't let it show though, at least until he's alone.

Leona Kingscholar: He does not care. The only difference is that winter is cold which makes him more tired than usual, but that's it. He might stay inside more to avoid the snow, but when you live in a castle, there's plenty to do inside as well, so he's fine. Cheka might force him outside, but he's not enjoying it at all. The snow bothers him and so do the festivities.

Vil Schoenheit: Most likely, he's working on a winter-themed project. A movie, play, photoshoot, something along those lines. It's tiring work, as per usual, but it's what he's required to do, so he does it. What he would like to be doing is relaxing, however. He actually quite enjoys the wintertime, so it'd be nice to spend it alone and without stress. If he could, he would relax at home, maybe even with his dad if he were free. They could finally spend time together and just be normal.

Rook Hunt: He's spending time with his family. It's so rare for all of them to get together, so it's nice to be able to see everyone at once like this. They are also a very competitive family, so many days are spent playing games and having fun competitions amongst one another. Board games, games in the snow, or just random games made up on the spot. It's fun for everyone.

Idia Shroud: He is, as expected, by himself playing games. He may go back to S.T.Y.X. if his parents request it, but he's not leaving his room. In his own way, he is being festive. He's playing winter-themed games, watching anime that takes place in the winter, etc. etc., but that's as far as he'll go. He's not the most fond of the winter festivities because that's normie behavior, but he might be convinced by Ortho to come outside and be festive at least once, as a treat.

Malleus Draconia: Usually, he's alone. Winter can be a lonely time for those without family. However, this year, he does have a family. He has Lilia and Silver, and Sebek too. They all make sure to visit him whenever possible, even if they can't be with him all the time during winter. After all, they do get their time off, so they're allowed time to themselves. However, they still visit him, and that makes him happy. He also spends time with his grandmother when she is available. Still, for a good majority, he finds himself alone, wandering the halls as usual. Sad.

Lilia Vanrouge: He's spending time with Silver at home, mostly. He makes an effort to visit Malleus when possible, but he's mostly relaxing on his own. He and Silver have fun bonding together, something they don't get to do often. He also makes sure to see Sebek and his family too. He tries to cook some hot meals for Silver, but Silver will not let him in the kitchen, so he's upset, but he's still having fun with his time off.

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finalfrontierpublishing · 9 months

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The Lightness of You // This Soul Outstreaming - a @rendherring duology

The entire origin for this bind was because I was extremely excited to use my newly purchased legal paper and I had wanted to make a tête-bêche quarto - and I just had so many feelings about Good Omens after watching the second season and I needed very much to bind something that is my love letter to Good Omens and express ALL MY FEELINGS ABOUT THOSE TWO LOVEABLE IDIOTS.

Stats:

36055 words || 153 pages

Body text: EB Garamond 11 point

Accents: Alchemist Serif font

I bound these two little fics written by the same author (in 2019, so they are spoiler-free fics), of which they are opposing points of view but also are slightly different stories. I mainly used the character point of views to guide a lot of my design choices.

did quite a few new things with this bind: a tête-bêche, also a quarto! a legal quarto! plus edge gilding! and a half-bind which i have legitly not done since my first bind 1 year ago.

the tête-bêche is a trial run for an author copy - and thankfully is easier than expected.

i chose decorative papers (renato crepaldi, because i have a Stash) that specifically gave me aziraphale and crowley vibes - and leaned into the elements of light and dark, contrast and harmony, while matching it with forest floor colibri. AGAIN PLANT VIBES, JUST BECAUSE.

I kept my typesetting very classic - a) because i wanted to speed bind this (which i did in 2 days) and b) because i wanted to preserve old book vibes. i also practiced++++ and took the electric sander for a whirl because by god i was going to get some foiled/gilded edges on this bind so it would look like a fancy pancy book Aziraphale would covet for his shelf. this is my third attempt at sanding and gilding and it's still a little patchy - not perfect enough yet for a consistent result but i hope to get there one day and to be able to do foiled edges for author copies, hopefully soon. i would say despite the patchiness, it looks pretty fucking fancy and i really liked how it turned out.

Endpapers are the same papers on the cover but on the contralateral endpaper sides, which is a great contrast and an amazing idea from @pleasantboatpress because i was befuddled by Options.

For the endbands, i took inspiration from @celestial-sphere-press's recent beautiful gradient endbands, but leaned more with the usage of sunlight breaking through the contrast of light and darkness, for Aziraphale's side, while Crowley's side is done with green, black and gold because PLANTS. i stitched the main textblock with lovely variegated galaxy thread (IFYKYK :)) hand-dyed by @pleasantboatpress.

i actually really like how the bind came together and i'm rather proud of its simplicity and how intentional it feels as a bind, design-wise. every design choice was done with love, for the show, the book, the author, the characters and the fic and i am just FILLED WITH FEELINGS, Y'ALL. i'm not ashamed of them.

my only (small) gripe is my legal paper grain snafu because i am one of those grain purists and i only ever like using the correct grain but despite the textblock being in the wrong grain, it is still a lovely book and my fears were unwarranted, the book lies flat and open (it's not a monster book of monsters, which i had always assumed erroneously was a grain issue) and is still very readable other than a little sticky-outyness of the pages. am also very grateful because paper supplier is replacing it for free (they are legit the nicest).

#bookbinding #fanbinding #my books #renegade bindery #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #good omens #gomens #ficbinding #rend_herring

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blue-versace · 6 months

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Acftl Review 🍎🗡️ Spoilers Included

4 ⭐

Look, I'm happy, thrilled, ecstatic, over the moon, excited, joyous, exuberant, tickled pink, merry and delighted that EvaJacks are together 🩷 (God I love them so much 😩🩷)

BUT... I'm also disappointed.

Acftl felt rushed and anticlimactic which is so ironic because I feel acftl was supposed to be the longest in the series. It felt very different and the pacing was off. I have many questions and not enough answers.

Ouabh and Tbona were so so good and Acftl just kinda fell flat.

Where was the flirtiness? The banter? Why didn't he fight harder?? It was too easy to let her be with Apollo. He's said time and time again that fates are jealous and obsessive. Where was the jealousy?? The obsessiveness?? I wanted UNHINGED behaviour 😭

I needed MORE. SO MUCH MOREEE.

Jacks chapters

EvaJacks content

Pining

Fluff

ANGER (I needed Jacks to set things on FIRE. I needed him to KILL Apollo not some tree. Thank you tree of souls but I would've preferred Jacks)

PAGES (I could've read 1000 pages of EvaJacks and not get bored or tired )

The only thing I needed less of was Apollo (he's literally the main character in this book tbh).

°•°•°•°•°

Thoughts

Where tf were Marisol, Luc and Tiberius?? They all have significant roles in ouabh and tbona. Why were they excluded entirely?

Now, Lala and Chaos do y'all need a room? Cuz damn. I NEED a book about that right now. Lala brushing off Eva's question about Dane was suspicious as well.

The Valors... I'm not even gonna talk about them. I don't like any of them. Let me just say Aurora, you'll get what's coming for you... with your dusty ass ugly purple hair and your stupid face. You manipulative bitc- *takes deep breath* At the end, you didn't get him and I'm content with that.

The quotes were BEAUTIFULLY written and something that made me scream (like actually SCREAM OUT LOUD) was when Eva called Jacks my love. OH MY GOD 😩🩷

Stephanie was tryna be cheeky at the end with the apples question but they were for controlling the urges. He has Eva for that now 🌚

°•°•°•°•°

Stephanie Garber...

I do hope you're planning to write 7,000 novellas because we need them. I NEED THEM, OK?? PLEASE...I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT THEM 🥺😩🩷

Overall it was a good book (not as good as it could've been) but I'm partial for Evajacks 🩷

°•°•°•°•°

That's all I have to say.

#evajacks #evangeline fox #jacks #tbona #ouabh #acftl #jacks the prince of hearts #jacks x evangeline #a curse for true love

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jaehyunsprincesspeach · 9 months

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Just You and Me

Brb, crying, screaming, sliding down the wall...... i really let my delusions write this one for me omggg

Hope y'all enjoy!!

All the love ~ lunar

Pairing: Yuta x fem!reader

Wc: 2.57k

Warnings: Mentions of stress, anxious feelings, overwhelmed feelings, potentially the fluffiest fluff i've ever written

You're new to the world of fame. As exciting as it all is, you have also found it to be very overwhelming. People have been telling you your whole life that you should be a model, and one day you decided to just go for it. What did you have to lose right? When you were accepted by the top modeling agency of Seoul, you felt so many different emotions. Excitement, nerves, even fear, yet you went with it, wanting to see where this life would lead you.

It's been a month since you have moved to Seoul, and things have been chaotic, to say the least. You have made many friends from all over the world, and that has helped you with the transition, but you often felt that you have no time for yourself. Everyday you wake up, go to the photo shoot that is scheduled for the day, stand in front of cameras, sit in the dressing room changing looks, and when you are up for it, you get dinner with some of the other models. Everyday, the same routine, though you still feel the excitement with the variety of shoots you have been scheduled for. Still, you can't help but feel overwhelmed. Today is the first day you have not had a schedule in a month. What better way to relax than reading in a coffee shop? Lucky for you, you have found one in a rather quiet area, and have made friends with the staff. Walking in, they greet you with a smile, and prepare your coffee for you.

“No schedules today?”

“Nope, not today.” “Good, you deserve some time to relax too. Stay as long as you would like, let us know if you need anything.”

“Thank you so much!”

Walking to a quiet corner of the coffee shop, you settle in and begin reading your book. A psychological thriller. Becoming beyond invested in your book, you fail to hear the group of boys walking, talking and laughing rather loudly. Other customers who are enjoying the peace give them sideways looks, while you keep your nose in your book. With the intensity of your reading, you also fail to notice that you have caught their attention. It’s no secret that you have become well known, and you stick out like a sore thumb as is, being a foreigner. It’s a wonder that the group didn’t notice you sooner.

Sitting in a different corner of the coffee shop, one of the boys in particular cannot take his eyes off of you. As the rest of the group continues talking and laughing with each other, there he sits, quietly observing you. He knows exactly who you are, yet to the world, the real you is still a mystery. One that he intends to uncover. In fear that he will lose his opportunity, he gets up, leaving the group of boys confused as he walks to you. Eyes wide open, and jaws on the floor, the group watches intently as the man approaches you.

“Hello, is this seat taken?” He says upon arriving at the table you are seated at, drawing your attention away from the book you are completely engrossed in.

“It's all yours.” You reply with a gentle smile, hoping your excitement is contained enough not to make the man uncomfortable.

If there is one thing that the world knows about you, it's that you have an immense sense of confidence. Not that you think you are better than anyone else, more so that you know your worth, and know that you work hard for the accomplishments you have received thus far. However, being caught off guard by someone you have admired for years, has your confidence slipping a little bit.

“You're y/n right? The recent model sensation?”

“And you're Yuta, K-Pop sensation?” You reply with your own question that you clearly know the answer to.

“So you do know me?”

“Yeah, big fan actually.”

“I'm honored that someone as beautiful as you is a fan of mine.”

“I could say the same about you.”

It's beginning to become a battle of confidence between the two of you, trying to see who will crack first. Everyone knows of Yuta’s confidence in himself. He knows he's attractive, and now, as much confidence you show to the world, Yuta himself is finding out just how unintimidated you are. Little does he know, you are actually screaming on the inside, though that is something that you refuse to show him.

After some time conversing with him, he must return to his schedules. Leaving you with a smirk, and his phone number, you feel like you are finally able to breathe. Adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you decide to head home for the evening, hoping that your flustered state will stay at bay until you are in the comfort of your apartment.

Immediately after closing the door, you happily dance all of the nerves out of your body. Still in shock from talking to THE Yuta Nakamoto, you sit on your couch and attempt to process what happened. Looking at the phone number, you debate on messaging him, thinking it could be too soon, but also thinking, what do you have to lose?

“Is this THE Yuta Nakamoto?” you message, making your joking sarcasm evident enough.

“No way, is this the y/n?” He replies, making you smile as he returns your energy.

The rest of the night is spent on and off messaging him, as he can only text when he has a break with his schedule. Giggles fill your apartment, and the feeling of butterflies is something that you can't contain. Little did you know, Yuta has the same feelings as you. Constantly smiling at his phone, and an immense feeling of butterflies in his stomach. This feeling for him is new. It's rare when he finds someone that he wants to constantly talk to, but he knows that this is the case when he feels the frustration of having to leave the conversation for his schedule. All he wants to do is talk to you. He likes your confidence, and witty comments. He finds it refreshing that someone can match his humor and return it just as well as he can. Both of you can already tell, this is the start of an amazing friendship, maybe even something more.

3 months later

It's now been four months of living in Seoul, and things are just as chaotic as ever. Though you have gotten used to the schedules and constant cameras, you find the most peace when you are with Yuta. Being that you have met all of NCT at this point, most, if not all, of your free time is spent with them. They have become your family, and slowly but surely, Yuta has become your home away from home. Many nights are spent in comfortable silence with him, the two of you doing your own things, simply enjoying each other's presence.

Upcoming events include more photo shoots, as well as your first invite to an award show. The show itself is for K-Pop, though you have been invited as well, being that you are one of the most well known individuals in all of South Korea at this point. Having you there is huge for publicity, being that you have been able to make friendships with many K-Pop idols. Plus, you want to go to show your support for your friends.

With only a few days till the award show, on the outside you are as confident as ever. But internally, you are completely overwhelmed, which is something that Yuta is not blind to. He knows you better than anyone else. He knows that you struggle in large crowds, but you refuse to show it. He knows that this will be the first large event you have ever attended, and your stubbornness refuses to let you show your nerves. What makes you the most nervous, is that you and Yuta are already being swarmed with dating rumors. You know how deeply that can affect not only your career, but his moreso. The rumors flying around have had you on edge for weeks, and though Yuta does a great job of calming you down when he is with you, all of those same anxious feelings are persistent.

You have hid the fact that you want to be with Yuta well, at least you thought you have. Even the photographs that have been taken of the two of you have shown nothing but a platonic relationship, refusing to so much as brush hands with him in public. Even in the privacy of your apartment, or his dorm, the only physical contact is a hug when he knows that you are not okay. Nothing more, nothing less. You have it set in your mind that he wants nothing more than a friendship with you, because as good as you are at hiding your feelings, he's just slightly better at it.

The day of the award show arrives, and you wake up nauseous, unable to keep any food down from the anxious feeling you have. You are put in the most beautiful black dress you have ever seen. Long, and form fitting, with a hint of sparkle. Diamonds drape across your neck, and hang from your ears, with a stunning makeup look done by your artists. It is easily the most elegant you have ever looked, and you are hoping that you will be able to make it through the award show without ruining the look.

Getting into the car, you take as many deep breaths as you can before arriving at the venue. Your style team is riding with you, doing their best to calm you down, yet the only person who you want to be with is him. Doing your best to control your anxiety, you are taken back by the sight you are greeted with when you arrive.

All of NCT has cleared a path, waiting patiently for you to arrive, with none other than Yuta standing at the end, waiting to escort you to your seat, which he has also made sure is right next to him. Getting out of the car, all of the guys begin to whistle at the sight of you looking like true royalty, while Yuta looks at you as if you yourself hung the stars in the sky. He is left speechless, as he extends his hand to you. Reaching for him, he can feel you shaking, yet your eyes never leave his.

“You look stunning, y/n.” He says with a starstruck expression.

“Thank you, you don't look too bad yourself.” You say, returning the compliment with a gentle smile.

“You know, these dating rumors are only going to get worse with all of this right?” You say with an uneasy tone, trying to avoid eye contact with the swarm of paparazzi around you.

“Let them. I want the world to know that the most beautiful woman in the world is mine.”

Finally, after months, you are left speechless. His words take your typical confidence, and leave you at a loss for words. Of course, he notices, and flashes you that smirk that makes your knees weak. After months of a battle of confidence, you are the one who breaks. You are the one left flustered, and he is enjoying not only your dress now, but your speechless state. As if that would be the end of it, you are led to an extremely crowded room. Pausing at the door, you feel a hand on the small of your back, with Yuta in your ear.

“Don't worry pretty girl, I'm not letting go.”

With that you take a deep breath, and start walking again. Your confidence is something Yuta has always admired, but your brave heart is what captured his. No matter how nervous you are, you always continue forward. He's mesmerized by you in every way possible, and he is making it known to the world. Finally reaching your seats, people are looking at the two of you with curious eyes. Yuta, taking notice of you looking around the room, places his hand on your leg, capturing your attention.

“Don't look at them, look at me. It's just you and me.” His words calm your wandering mind, and he sees you relax slightly, which brings a smile to his lips. Throughout the night, Yuta would say things like this when he notices you tense up. “You're doing good, pretty girl, confident as ever.” Though he knows your confidence is faltering. He keeps a hand on you at all times, knowing that you find solace in him being around. For the first time in your life, you find yourself enjoying the chaps of a crowded room, filled with wandering eyes, and cheers, and slowly, you begin to release the tension that you are feeling, which puts Yuta at ease as well. The night is filled with laughter, cheers and applause, and light hearted jokes, and you wouldn't want to spend it with anyone else by your side.

As things wind to an end, you are escorted back to your car by Yuta, who leaves you with a kiss on your knuckles. A bashful smile plastered on your lips, you look at him as if he is the only one in the world, and in that moment, he is. Getting into the car, he closes the door, and rushes to the driver, whispering something in their ear. Curiosity sparks in your mind, as he looks back at you and sends you a wink. Driving home, you can't help but wonder what he said, until you finally realize that the driver has taken the route to Yuta’s dorm, where he is waiting for you.

Walking up to him yet again, he takes you inside, and gives you some more comfortable clothes to change into. After throwing on his tee shirt and sweats that he handed you, you meet him in the living room, where he takes you by the hand, and swoops you off your feet, literally.

“The night’s not over, pretty girl.” Carrying you outside, to see a tarp hung in the trees, a bluetooth projector, fairy lights, and candles, he somehow managed to have your own private after party set up before you got there, rendering you speechless, yet again. Setting you back down on your feet, you look at the sight in front of you in awe, but Yuta is only looking at you. He takes you to sit down, before grabbing your hand again.

“Welcome to the after party.”

“Yuta, this is stunning! How did you manage all of this?”

“I had some help.”

“ I love it.”

“I meant what I said earlier, about the prettiest girl in the world being mine, but you didn't say anything back.” he says, letting his own nerves finally surface. Something you catch onto quickly. Before he can say anything else, you pull him into a gentle, yet passionate kiss.

“I wouldn't want to be with anyone else. I'm all yours.” You say, looking deep into his eyes, as he is now speechless. Pulling you into another kiss, the two of you spend the night watching movies, laughing at the terrible jokes being made, and simply enjoying quality time together. The perfect ending to a day that is now engraved in your mind.

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heart4reigns · 11 months

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i had this idea for roman where reader is like the sweet girl wrestlers go to when they really want to have a match with someone because she’s really good at persuading the higher ups and roman really wants a match against (a wrestler of ur choice) cuz he thinks that will blow the audiences minds so he goes to talk to her and as time goes by in the convo, they drift off and start taking about life and relationships and like days after they start bumping into each other more and more and one of them soon develops a crush ✊✊✊✊✊✊ (sorry if theres any typos)

IN BLOOM, roman reigns.

warnings: curse words, inaccurate events, alcohol mentioned, teasings

tags: i love writing out of the ring roman like it's so fun,,, bisexual reader since i love shotzi, THEORY FLIRTING, had to tweak several things to fit the plot!! i hope u don't mind <3 why does (y/n) has a saul goodman vibes here i just realized that

summary: you’re really good at your job

THE room was filled with excitement as you shook your boss’s hand. “you will be the death of me, ms. (l/n). we have a deal!” you smiled at him, only to receive the same gesture. “then it is settled," your boss paused for a second. "lynch against rollins... i think it's a solid deal." you nodded at his sentence. "tell them to come to the office tomorrow, we'll talk about the deal. thank you for bringing yet another great idea, ms. (l/n)."

"YOU'RE JOKING?" seth was practically yelling in your office. "no, i scored it. although the two of you," you pointed at becky and seth. "have to come to the office to sign the contract." becky immediately stood up and hugged you. "god, thank you (y/n)... i don't know why you’re so good at this.” she chuckled. “hey, it’s my job to make sure that everyone enjoys their job.” “you’re a blessing, (y/n). should’ve been here since 10 years ago.”

your office became empty as the two lovebirds left. you were satisfied with your bookings for next month. the couple had been asking for the higher ups to put them in the ring together, but they would always decline–saying no every time they proposed the idea. they came to you, being the talent relations, you had to step up for the wrestlers and give the people what they wanted. being in the board meant that you knew how the games were played, people had a soft spot for you as you were an amazing sweet talker.

ever since you were hired as talent relations, you were mostly in charge of the bookings that happened. the company noticed that the wrestlers were enjoying their matches and it was all because of you. you gave them what they wanted, gave the people amazing shows, you were very good at your job.

"you really scored a high-rating today." "honestly, i know i don't stand a chance with my girl, but i had so much fun." the two wrestlers were talking backstage. "that's because i know your weak spots." becky replied, drinking her water. "finally got our dream match. all thanks to (y/n)." roman's ears perked up. "talent relations did all of that?" he furrowed his brows. "oh yeah, she's really good at doing her job. got gunther and ali against each other, who else... brock with cody? that's all her doings." seth replied.

roman reigns was interested.

everyone seemed to speak highly of you as you were one of the sweetest and nicest one in the board. all his bookings were done by his manager, but he realized that he was bored of them. he needed a chance. roman needed to talk to you. "dude, eve from marketing was asking for you!" jey opened the locker room door. "i'm not interested, how many times do i need to tell you that?" roman groaned at his cousin trying to set him up. "damn dude, give her a chance." he shook his head.

"who else should we set you up with?" jimmy asked. "what about cath from creatives?" jey furrowed his eyebrows. "naaah, she has a husband." roman grew annoyed by his cousins. "rather than setting me up with someone, can y'all help me talk to (y/n)?" that caught their attentions. "what do you want from her?" jimmy squinted his eyes. "yeah uce, don't mess with her. she's like a baby sister to us here!"

the man groaned once again. "nah man, i just need to talk to her about work stuff. where is her office?" roman asked, still earning curious looks from his cousins. "i'm being for real, you remember the bianca match that we talked about? i heard seth and becky scored a match because of her." the twins nodded in unison. "room 12, 5th floor. if you pull some flirty shit, we will end you." that was a genuine threat from the twins.

you yawned, feeling sleepier than usual. caffeine sounds like a good idea, you thought. you just got back from the arena, you were very satisfied with your own bookings. seth and becky gave it all for today's match. you never doubted them from the start. "hi, (y/n)." the barista greeted you. "hi, the usual please! make it 2, i'm buying for my assistant too!"

when you exited the lift, you expected to see your assistant on her desk, typing some emails, but she was not there. you opened the door, expecting it to be empty. "i hope i'm not rude for entering your office, your assistant told me to just walk in, she said she was going to creatives to print your schedule by the way." you almost dropped your coffee when you saw a certain black-haired man sitting down on your chair. "o- oh, hi!" you greeted him, despite feeling rather intimidated by his presence.

"hello ms. (l/n). i'm roman, can we talk a bit about some things? if you're busy then we can schedule a meeting." his voice was as charming as he looked. "no, no. i'm free! please sit down and (y/n) would do!" you walked to your chair, facing him. it was your first time officially meeting him, as all of his bookings were made and signed by his manager. "so, how can i help you?" you knew when a wrestler comes to your office they were in need of help. whether it was a push or a gimmick change, you were always ready to help. "i heard from seth that you managed to score his latest match and it was amazing." you smiled at his sentence. "always ready to help the lovebirds, they are so kind."

"i want a match against bianca." and you were already interested in his proposal. "okay, continue." you said, typing down the plan. "bianca and i were talking the other week about this match and we really want it to happen. let her win, she deserves it. but all the fans really want us to face each other as we are both champions... i just think this deserves a run." you nodded, completely understanding the situation. "i couldn't agree more. wait, i'm looking for your report... socials told me that a lot of your fans want to see you in a mix match."

you turned your laptop monitor around, showing him the report from socials. "i think it's gonna be amazing, roman." you grinned as you saw him scanning the monitor. this was the first time he saw his social reports and people really wanted to see him in a mix-gender match. his eyes widened in surprise as he saw your tabs, you were already writing the email. to say the least, roman was impressed with your skills. "damn." was all that came out of his mouth.

"i just need to talk to bianca's manager about this and we're all settled. i'll propose the idea in the next board meeting." roman was about to ask if he should be in the next meeting or not. "don't worry about all the negotiations and the contracts. sit back and relax, your manager will bring you the documents after i score this deal." you answered his unspoken question.

"wow." he was flabbergasted. "(y/n), how are you so good at this?" roman asked. "oh, i love my job and i just want the talents to enjoy their job as much as i enjoy mine." you gave him an honest answer. "that's just pure dedication, they should induct you in the hall of fame." he joked, feeling comfortable with your friendly presence. you chuckled at his joke. "trust me, i feel like i deserve more than just a hall of fame induction, i should be the president for this company." roman laughed.

now he understood why people spoke very high of you. you bring positive vibes that was truly needed in the industry. "thank you, (y/n)." roman blurted out, genuinely thankful for your help. "no, no. don't thank me yet, i'm just doing my job!" roman shook his head. "not putting pressure on you, but i know you're gonna do an amazing job." you smiled at him. "thank you as well for trusting me, roman! i'll be there when the match happens. i also watch all of my bookings."

"so you were there when the twins fought the judgement day?" you nodded. "they did an amazing job, we got drinks after that... that night ended well for everyone." his eyes lit up. "you're close to them, right?" you nodded once again. "they're the best honestly, always helping me with ideas. kinda miss them. you should really come next time we're having a drink off!" you said.

"that sounds fun," he paused for a second. "you know, the locker room speaks very highly of you, (y/n)." you felt your cheeks reddened. "but it's funny how this is the first time we meet and they're right about you being this friendly." roman couldn't even deny your positivity. "like i said, i want everyone to enjoy their time in the ring." you replied with a happy tone. "how did you even get this job, sorry but... you look too young to be in charge."

you got that a lot and you were used to it. "honestly, you're not the first person to say that. i was just lucky, i guess... i was in public relations before this but they moved me to talent relations because they had to cut some crews, so i guess it was my lucky day." you told him about your backstory. "i love it here, it's better than being stuck with externals... i made a lot of friends along the way." you continued. "sorry, i'm just rambling." you realized that you were talking a lot.

the man immediately shook his head. "no, it's fine! i love hearing the upstair stories." he encouraged you to continue. "well, what do you wanna know? i have a lot of gossips about everything." you wiggled your eyebrows. "i even know about your secret romance with one of the crews from 2 years ago." roman's eyes widened in surprise. "that was only a short relationship!" he was shocked that you knew everything. "hey, i'm no one to judge, but janice? janice from marketing? she was a pain in my ass."

"oh come on, what about you and shotzi?" you rolled your eyes. "we decided to part ways in a mutual way, we're best friends now! oh my god, everyone knows?" you furrowed your eyebrows. "it was a locker room gossip. they kept teasing her about dating you..." the conversation continued between you and the universal champion. your alarm rang, it was time for you to clock out of work.

"i'll text you the outcomes for the meeting," you paused for a second to put your things inside your back. "i won't let you down." the two of you stood up in unison. "you're driving?" he asked. "no, i'm probably gonna call for taxi. my car is being repaired since seth accidentally knocked over my lamppost." you chuckled as you remembered the incident. "then let me take you home, that's the least i can do for taking up your time."

the car ride wasn't silent at all. "and i told her that we should stop seeing each other, she quitted her job after that." roman was telling the story about how he dated janice from marketing. "damn... that was why she dropped every project. you're the one to blame." you joked. "hey, it wasn't working out." he defended himself. "i know, i was joking. so, you seeing anyone now?" you asked him. "heard from the twins that they are setting you up with someone from marketing again." roman made a mental note to smack his cousins heads. "damn, they really should shut up sometimes. and no, the dating scene for me is out of reach."

"why is that?" "because i haven't met the right person, i guess."

you agreed with him. the dating scene for you was a mess as well. nothing really worked out for you, maybe you were too focused on making other people happy that you didn't have the time to focus on yourself. "damn, i couldn't agree more. but hey, at least we have our jobs, right?" roman nodded. "right, i think it's nice that we share the same perspective towards things, i can tell we're gonna be good friends, (y/n)." you giggled at his sentence. "i'd love to be friends with you, roman!"

needless to say, the two of you kept in contact as you were going to score one of the biggest wrestling matches in his entire career. you were preparing for the meeting when you saw a certain black-haired man roaming near your office. "roman?" you furrowed your eyebrows. "hi." he greeted you with a smile as you hugged him. "sorry, a habit." you apologized. "no worries!" he returned the gesture. "what are you doing here?" you asked, clearly confused. "i feel like i should help you in the meeting, if you don't mind. jey said it should be easy when the talent is there too." he was very considerate and that warmed your heart.

"good morning, everyone!" you walked into the meeting room, with roman on your side. "good morning, ms. (l/n) and... reigns?" people were obviously confused. everyone knew you were going to pull some shit and they will still fall for it. "as you can see right here, i brought roman with me because we have something we'd like to propose." everyone's attention was on the two of you.

he was impressed as he saw the board all agreeing with you. even though you were the youngest in the board, everyone seemed to respect you. another score, you thought. "i don't know how you do that, but i am very impressed." roman whispered to you. "it's my talent." you winked at him. you shook your boss's hand, finalizing the deal. "ms. (l/n), once again... outstanding like usual. might give you a promotion for this if this works out." your eyes lit up in excitement. "thank you boss."

roman and you exited the meeting room, clearly holding your squeaks. "oh my god!" you squealed, feeling thrilled for the upcoming match. "(y/n)... that was amazing!" he couldn't help but to hug you. "i'm so excited, good things are coming for you!" you hugged him back, feeling smaller in his arms. "fuck, this calls for a celebration! call your cousins, let's fucking get wasted tonight!"

the friendship bloomed as time passed by. you saw him quite often in work (more than before you were friends). a 'hi!' or 'do you wanna eat after this?' made everyone questioned your relationship with him. sure, you were nice to the talents but seeing you with the tribal chief himself was kind of out of place for you since you were always with him.

he was happy. it was the first time you worked together and the chemistry was there. he threw ideas and you would make them happen. roman was involved with the script and the choreography, which made you very excited for the match. that man was dedicated to his work, he was practically married to his job. but that didn’t stop him from making time for you. after rehearsals, it became a habit for the two of you to spend the night at a random parking lot, talking about everything.

you learned a lot about him and he learned a lot about you. he didn’t want to admit it but you were definitely his type. you were fearless, not afraid to say what was on your mind. he couldn’t help but to be attracted to you.

you were walking with him to the locker room, preparing for his first encounter with bianca. to your surprise, the locker room was full of people. "uce, i swear. you're taking her away from us!" jey complained. "hey, let's not fight... we haven't reached that timeline yet." you joked, earning a laugh from the locker room. "heard you scored this match, you never disappoint." solo patted your back. "so when are we fighting?" jimmy nudged you. "my man, you would instantly knock me out. i'm not built for the business."

everyone was talking to you, you were the center of their attentions. always throwing jokes and making people smile, you really lived up to your reputation. roman saw theory slinging his arm on your shoulders and he felt something he had never felt in years... was it jealousy? was it something else? he couldn't deny that you had a magnetic charm surrounding you, causing people to gravitate close to you.

"you never have time for me, (y/n)." theory pouted causing roman to raise one of his brows. "sorry, i've been busy with the entire belair-reigns fiasco... my office is always open though." you replied, putting down his arm from your shoulders. "no i meant like a date or something." the entire locker room boo-ed at him. "stay away from (y/n), she's for the girls only." bianca complained. "nah man, she's for the chief only." roman swore he'd throw some punches at his cousins if you weren't in the room.

"ooooh, romance brewing up?" you flushed in embarrassment, trying to cover your face with the rundown papers you had in your hands. of course you were attracted to the wrestler standing in front of you. you couldn't help but to be attracted as he was one of the nicest wrestlers you have ever met. not to mention, the two of you immediately clicked after your first meeting.

the locker room people couldn't stop teasing you, causing you to be flustered. "come on, that's enough. can't you tell that we're friends?" roman slung his arm on your shoulders, your face redder than before. "gotta be honest, the two of you look cute together." bianca added. you made eye-contact with roman and immediately looked away. "i mean, we do look cute. gotta be honest." roman was just adding fuel to the fire. "okay, now can we focus on the match today? this is so embarrassing for me." you admitted.

"(y/n) has a crush on roman!" "i do not!" "your face says otherwise!"

truth be told, everyone knew that the two of you were going to end up together. it was a matter of time till the romance bloomed into a relationship.

a/n: aaaa not my best writing to be honest but i tried my best!!! (i’m on a writer’s block fr) i hope u enjoyed it <3