#to anyone who may have missed that I have now moved blogs
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Not Now (PT. 1)
[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]
[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Mild General Yandere(ish) Behavior, Mild Arguing, Awkward Tension(?)]
(Sorry, forgive and forget isn't an option anymore. Sort of proofread and lightly edited. If you thought the 2nd chapter was long, you're in for a little treat. A little more focus on Dick this time with some sprinkles of the others, and a bit of Tim in the beginning. Meeting some of the reader's friends now. The 2nd part is longer... and sort of where the 'real' stuff happens, but this part of the chapter is still important imo. Take your time reading this, and remember to take breaks!)
Tags: @bigcandlesmolbrain, @d4mi3nn , @mindscape123, @143637-hrrm, @lilyalone, @ceramic-raven , @bruhfan-3 , @i-thirsty-boi , @yandere-enthusiast , @1mawh0re , @vanessa-boo , @agent-nobody-knows , @myeagleexpert , @waitingforanarchicaddiction , @mottysith , @simpingfor-wakasa , @imjustheretogetalif , @toast-on-dandelioms , @instantmiraclekryptonite , @luvr0cksadie , @littlefeather345 , @generosityheart , @emmbny , @sereinitysmind , @love-zami , @angstylittleb1tch , @kiiyoooo , @andrasia , @aenishas , @gyarukitti , @ash1 , @samohxt2-0 , @books-are-everything , @kurai-hono-blog , @veryrascalbiscuitbagel , @lavender-moony
@vikkus-main, @ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhha, @iloveanimeandkpop7, @spacecerealbowl,
If you aren't tagged then I'm sorry! I may have missed you, or tumblr was being weird and it wouldn't work :']
Chapter 3 of this post. Chapter 2. Part 2. [Series Masterlist]
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The night was young when everything went to chaos.
The streets were empty for a change, with no one daring to step outside. With those who once roamed them making an effort to quickly step inside, and wait out the rest of the night. Deciding to be more careful, and not tempt fate one too many times for once.
There was something different about tonight, that much everyone knew, but what exactly was going on was anyone's guess. Something was in the air that made it thicker, and harder to breathe. The atmosphere felt different, and weighed down on the city's residents. No civilian or thug was safe from the sudden change and the effects it had on Gotham. Not to mention that the vigilantes — the people who dared to protect Gotham during its darkest hours — seemed more focused than usual.
Not in the way where they were more focused on targeting crime in Gotham, and getting rid of her more corrupted and infectious roots, but in some… other way. Like they were focusing on one particular thing, and ignoring everything else in the process.
What that thing is, no one knew, but most were wary and cautious enough to not get in the way. Unwilling to find out what would happen if they got caught in the crossfire of whatever was happening.
However, this is still Gotham. Where some saw danger, others saw opportunity. So they tried to start something, thinking they could sneak right past the heroes of the city, and fly under their radar more easily compared to previous nights because of how focused they seemed to be on something else.
Yet, just as the fire began to lit, it was snuffed out.
A heavy stomp stopped the flames from even daring to light, killing it before it could even think to rise. The stomp itself coming down much more swiftly and heavier than before, digging the thugs it hit into the ground. They, the vigilantes who dared to protect Gotham and their citizens night after night, were harsher that way. More brutal than the city had ever seen them before, and that was quick to kill off some sparks that were trying to light. They were quicker, faster, and hit a whole lot harder. As if just wanting to get things over with, and quickly move on.
It was almost like they were rushing, and whoever thought that wouldn't be entirely wrong.
They just wanted to put all of their time and energy into finding you, but still had half a mind to take care of the crime in Gotham. Since, they'd have to deal with it anyway if they wanted things to go as smoothly as possible. Not to mention the off chance that some thugs could be messing with you, and so they'd get to swoop in and save you if they ever ran into such an altercation. Though, they didn't want to run around and just hope for that chance, so they also chose certain places and people to interrogate and search for. Taking out any and all thugs as well as minor criminals along the way.
As if anyone in their way was doomed from the day they were born, and dared to step foot in Gotham. As if they were cursed the very moment they dared to live in this damned city at all.
Nevertheless, some went after your teachers while others went to search through places you had been to for one reason or another. Whether it was for a performance or otherwise, it didn't matter. The fact that you had been there before was the only detail they cared about.
Finding you, and any information about you came first. Everything else was secondary.
That's why Tim was more focused on trying to find more… personal information about you. From your email, to where you lived, and who your friends are — he wanted to know everything. Even if he already had your phone number, you weren't responding or picking up whatsoever. Which wasn't exactly helping him calm down.
If only he could track your phone somehow-
["You have any new information yet?"]
Jason suddenly spoke up, making Tim scoff and narrow his eyes at the computer screen he was looking at, as if it was Jason's face.
How annoying.
"You've asked that question several times in the last fifteen minutes."
["And? Do you have any new information, or what?”]
Tim could only roll his eyes, having been scrolling through so many social media posts and pages, that he had lost count of exactly how many he had gone through or looked at. All he knew was that the total amount was quickly approaching triple digits.
Anything mentioning you caught his interest, and eventually he had found your public account — which, as expected, just held dates for your performances and when a new album or song of yours would be coming out. There were also a few previews of songs you would be playing at the time, had written, or both, and as much as Tim would like to listen to them all, he couldn't. Not right now anyway. He had to focus, for you.
… Though he'd keep it in mind for later.
"Besides more places where Y/n has performed, and when? No. Who could've guessed."
Jason scoffs, which almost made Tim smile a little but he quickly wiped it off his face, focusing again.
["Guys, let's not fight, alright? Just focus on finding Y/n."]
Dick suddenly spoke as well, the sounds of a fight slowly dying down could faintly be heard in the background.
["I'm not trying to start a fight, but y'know what would help with finding Y/n? Some fucking new information."]
["Language!" Dick sighs before continuing, "Look, just calm down-"]
["I am calm."]
["-and focus. We'll find them."]
Jason clicks his tongue, clearly getting upset.
Tim couldn't say much, seeing as he's already a bit upset himself, but that wasn't really saying much either. All of them were getting progressively frustrated and annoyed, but it was the source of those feelings that were different for each and every one of them. You were a big part of it, of course, but their anger wasn't directed towards you — not for Tim, anyway. Never.
Rather, it's the factors that surrounded you, and maybe their hate and guilt towards themselves, and what they've missed in your life — is what really drove them to try as hard as they are now. They all want to see you, but they have their own separate reasons despite how similar they may seem.
["How the hell can you be so sure? They could be getting killed, or being tortured right now. We need to find them as soon as possible- and you'll never guess what we need for that to happen."]
Tim could practically hear the eye roll in Jason's voice.
["We're all trying to find Y/n as fast as we can! Have a little faith, they can fight-"]
["You don't actually believe that, right?"]
["..."]
Dick's silence spoke volumes, but some of them understood it better than others, because they feel the same way. Fighting in tournaments and in controlled environments is different than fighting out in the streets, and in Gotham no less. No amount of trophies or medals could change their minds on that. Nothing could.
["See? Even you don't believe it."]
[Dick sighs, "Look, let's just keep looking while Babs and Tim grab more information, alright? We have to be patient."]
["That's reeeal rich coming from the guy who rushed out of the fucking Manor, the very second he heard Alfred didn't know where Y/n was. Weren't you the first one to start looking for them in the city?"]
["Y/n isn't going to be dead in the next few minutes, Jason-"]
["You don't fucking know that."]
Again, a brief silence passes as Dick just sighs again.
["Grayson does have a point, Todd."]
Damian spoke up, causing Tim to roll his eyes almost instinctively. Just remembering that he was technically working with the youngest Wayne, made his mood worsen. Though he just pushed his annoyance to the side, and continued his search.
If it were up to him, he wouldn't be working with half of the family, but that's the thing — he didn't have a choice. None of them really did. Finding you was just that important to them. You, in general, had become that important to them, and in just a few mere hours no less. Even if it left a few of them biting their tongues, and hiding their clear distaste for having to work with certain people. Still, they tried to work together to the best of their ability.
Tim just took a breath, still listening in on the conversation as he scrolls through even more websites and pages. A collection of photos and announcements leading him down a rabbit hole of posts, and finding some accounts that Tim was beginning to think belonged to your friends with how often they commented, the things they'd say, and how you'd respond. Even if the majority of those comments were on older posts, it was still something. So, he dug deeper.
Eventually, he came to the conclusion that your personal account was private. Since, he found one of the accounts he thought belonged to one of your friend's, and they mentioned an account Tim couldn't access. Of course, he hacked it and got in, but there still wasn't anything of use from what he could see. The occasional pictures were nice, even if they didn't show your face too often, but they didn't give him any information he could use to locate you. Hell, even the account itself didn't have a set location listed, and nor did your email. With the only thing he could gather from posts you privated being that you were still in Gotham, at the very least.
However it did seem like you not only didn't post too often, but were careful about what you posted even on your private account. Not to mention who you posted about as well, and how you worded things. As if you knew someone would be looking through your posts someday, and try to find you. As if you knew Tim would be looking through your page, and try to find you by the little bits of information he thought you'd accidentally leave behind. However, all he found was mostly inconclusive with his current objective. The most he could gather was that you either lived in an apartment, were staying with a friend, or settling at various hotels and such just to have a roof over your head. Though not much else.
Sighing, he kept looking.
Just where are you?
["Oh yeah? How so, demon spawn?"]
["Jason-!"]
["L/n knows how to fight, they can surely take care of themself for a few minutes." Damian states. Cutting off Dick, and ignoring the name Jason used to refer to him.]
["Oh, so you believe that?" Jason scoffs.]
["I haven't been given a reason to think otherwise."]
["Right. Okay. So let's say that Y/n isn't dead for a second here. Do you know how many enemies they could potentially have? Or just how many people want them dead? They're known as a Wayne kid, and a musician too, apparently. Anyone could be after their head, or want to squeeze some money out of them for all we know. How are they supposed to fight against threats like that?"]
["And you think they aren't prepared for that? With how much time has passed, I doubt they'd still remain ignorant to such risks. Especially with the career they've chosen as well." Damian scoffs, as if frustrated and offended on your behalf, "No wonder L/n left."]
["Damian!" Dick exclaims, the youngest Robin's words clearly uncalled for.]
["What? You don't truly believe they just ‘ran away’. Do you, Grayson? Even Father doesn't believe such nonsense."]
Tim could only remain silent, but he had suspected as much as well. He didn't particularly enjoy agreeing with Damian, but for a change, it seemed that they were on the same page.
After all, the more Tim looked, and the deeper his research went, the possibility of you having left, instead of ran away, was turning into a clear certainty. Not to mention that various details he noticed in different posts, seemed to indicate that you had no intentions of coming back home, further proving that thought to be true.
It wasn't really even through posts you made either, but instead posts your friends had made. Various pictures and videos shared on their accounts showing the pieces of your life that the family had missed out on. Showing Tim what he had missed out on.
From parties and celebrations that were held for your accomplishments and your friend's, to events you attended with them instead of someone from your family. To smaller things such as various study sessions that were held, sleepovers and all the fun activities you did with your friends, to sneaky photos taken of you practicing, and how nervous you used to be behind stage — only to later show how confident and comfortable you had grown in more recent pictures.
He saw your life and nearly every part of it he had missed through someone else's eyes. Through the camera lens that captured how much fun you had, or just how happy you were during the time the photo was taken, or how calm you looked as you set up your instrument and prepared to play it, and how focused you became when you did. Videos that showed you getting into the zone, and displaying your amazing skill and talent that Tim never saw up until now. That the rest of the family never knew about until recently, just because they couldn't put a few seconds to the side to even try and give your music a listen. Just because they never made time for you, and now they were finally paying the price for it. Finally realizing what they had truly lost, and why the occasional, soft melodies that would play at night had stopped entirely.
They had pushed you away, and you left. That was the true reality of the situation.
Yet the others didn't seem to believe it, or maybe refused to. Seeing as no one dared to say anything else for a few moments.
["... Bruce?" Dick hesitantly spoke up, he clearly didn't want to think about it. Let alone consider it.]
A heavy sigh could be heard before Bruce said anything.
["It's a possibility." His cold, calculated voice pierced through the air. It was less clear, but he didn't seem too fond of the idea either.]
["'Possibility'? Father, you can't be serious-" Damian tries to speak up, only to get cut off.]
["Exactly! Yeah! It's only a possibility, and we won't know for sure unless we find them." Stephanie pitches in, clearly trying to stay a little positive despite the situation.]
["Right…" Dick took a breath, "Well, what do you think, Tim?"]
"..."
Tim's silence said everything, and besides, he was much too focused on a particular thing he managed to find to really be paying attention anyway.
["... Tim?"]
["To think that Drake would be the only other sensible person here. Unbelievable."]
["Look- we don't know for sure, okay? But anyway, how did the interrogation go? Find out anything?"]
The rest of the conversation fell into the background. Tim would roll his eyes, but again, something else had caught his attention, seeing as he found a rather peculiar post.
On one of your friends' accounts, there was a post that showed you and two other people. All of you were wearing formal clothes, and stepping out of a theater that Tim recognized. The person taking the selfie had an arm wrapped around your shoulders, and he noted that they were the owner of the account. The other person was hugging your arm, and did bunny ears behind your head. All of you were smiling, and you looked so… happy..
Tim shook his head, and just focused on the individual hugging your arm. He didn't recognize them, not completely anyway, but noticed how their account was tagged in the post, and how it was an account he hadn't looked into yet. So, he went to their page and scrolled through their various posts. A particular detail already catching his interest as he scrolled down.
This person seemed to spend a lot of time with you…
Not that your other friends didn't, but this person seemed to have more posts with you in them, compared to the other accounts Tim has looked through thus far. There were many photos of you both hanging out, with some other personal posts sprinkled in here and there — but Tim isn't here for that. He's looking for you, so of course he ignored posts that didn't involve you.
Most of the photos showed you both hanging out and doing various activities together. With Tim's heart squeezing the more he saw, and further began to realize just how much of your life he had missed. Though he pushed it all to the side, just as he has been doing this entire time.
He could feel terrible about all the nights you spent away from home, and how no one noticed, later. He could feel guilty about all the time he's wasted not being with you when given the chance after he found you.
Only then, once you were safe again, once you were home, would he allow himself to feel the full weight of all he hadn't done. Though only when you were home, would he let himself fully see and realize just how little of an impact he had on your life. How he may as well have just been nothing but a figment of your imagination with how often he was present, along with everyone else.
Though, for that, he had to find you first, and he will, so he kept looking.
Eventually, he did stumble across a curious post. One that not only confirmed his suspicions, but also gave the most important piece of information Tim could've found right now.
It was another photo taken without your knowledge, seeing as your back was facing the camera, and a bit of your friend's face could be shown. You were moving some boxes into a building, and your friend seemed to be covering their mouth with their other hand — as if they had been laughing and were trying to cover it up. The caption of the post said how you lost a bet, and now had to move in most of the boxes yourself, but how they'd help you if they saw you genuinely struggling. Only to put in parentheses how viewers of the post shouldn't tell you that.
However, what caught his interest was the text on the image itself, and what parts of the building were shown.
['First day of moving in!!! Already making my bestie hate me by having them do all of the work♡ They're the best! Look at them go ♡♡'] The text in the photo read, with the building itself having a number, among various other details to suggest that it was an apartment building.
Tim felt his heart leap to his throat. No way, had he really…? No. No, he couldn't get his hopes up, but he searched for the building by using the other photos your friend had taken that eventually got him a street name and number. It didn't even take him a minute to find the exact building that perfectly mirrored the one in your friend's photo.
He tried to not work himself up too much, as he didn't waste any time finding the building's security system, and hacking into it. He didn't want to get his hopes up, only to end up disappointed. He didn't want to think about certain things or make up assumptions, only for them to turn up untrue. Yet, his heart rate increased as his hands began to shake despite his efforts.
No way, he thought. No way.
Getting into the system was a breeze, but Tim could hardly focus on that as he immediately looked through the building's security footage. He matched the dates of both the post and footage, and found you bringing in boxes, just as the photo had shown.
He watched you go into the elevator and took note of what floor you went up to, and eventually what apartment you walked into as well once you got there. Tim even observed as you took a second to yourself, sighing before going back down, and doing the process all over again — and even how you had to use the stairs at one point. Seeing as your friend had the bright idea to 'race' you, and see who could get most of the remaining boxes to the apartment in the least amount of time. It was a close tie, and your friend had won, but that's besides the point.
Tim went through other footage just to make sure he had the right information, and knew for certain that you lived in this particular apartment with your friend. For all he knew, you could've just offered to help them move in that day, so he had to be sure. He had to be certain. He couldn't afford to be wrong this time around.
Yet with all the footage he was able to review, and all the dates getting closer and closer to the current day, he was able to confirm it. He saw you walk in and out of that exact apartment on that exact floor, and leave and enter that exact building multiple times. With the amount of time that's passed, it made sense — even if Tim couldn't figure out where you had stayed between the few weeks you had presumably left the Manor and when you moved in with your friend, but that hardly mattered now. What did matter is that he found out where you live, and now had your address.
He almost couldn't believe it, staring at the document where he has been listing all of the information he's gathered from this search.
Having just finished writing down your address, it all felt so unreal.
He's done it. He's finally done it.
"Holy shit." Tim cursed under his breath, disbelief clear in his voice.
["Language, Tim."]
Bruce's voice suddenly sounded, causing Tim to jump before he quickly tried to settle down.
"Right, sorry." He apologized, placing a hand over his racing heart. God, that scared him more than it should've.
["Did you find anything?"]
Someone tsked at the question – while Tim just looked at his screen, still processing all that's happened, and suddenly feeling unsure.
Should he just keep this to himself, so that he could go after you? The others didn't know where you live… they didn't have to know yet. This was a golden opportunity — should he really be giving this up?
["With how long it's been? And all he's been able to find out? We'll be lucky if he even knows if Y/n is dating or not."]
["Jason, c'mon.." Dick tried to pitch in, dragging on.]
["What? I'm just saying-"]
"I know where Y/n lives." He found himself blurting out, Jason's words irritating him more than they would've. More than they should've.
["... Really? Where are they, Tim?" Dick didn't waste a moment to ask.]
["Yeah, just spill already so we can go get them."]
["Send me their location."]
["Send me the info too!"]
Tim could only sigh, rubbing his temple as he tried to collect his thoughts. Of course he just had to run his mouth before thinking things over. Of course he had to let that little comment get to him. Of course he just had to allow it to get to him so much that it made him give up the most important piece of information he had found out tonight.
Of course. Just great.
["Guys, I don't think it's a good idea for all of you to just go and see Y/n."]
Barbara finally spoke up, voice calm and collected.
["Why? I mean, I get that seeing the whole family all at once might be a little overwhelming… but I don't see why a few of us can't go." Dick questioned.]
["Because it's been months since they've last seen any of us? There's a reason why they haven't gone back to the Manor, and still haven't picked up your or Tim's calls."]
["... You're not saying-"]
["I'm just suggesting that maybe only one of you should go to kind of… test out the waters. We can't be sure of anything, and the best way to see how we should go about things is to know how Y/n feels about us first."]
["But we need to bring them home, they're not safe out here." Jason pointed out, already not liking the idea.]
["I know, but we can't just show up and expect them to comply because we're family. For all we know, they might-"]
["Okay! Um, I think we get it now." Stephanie interrupted, the idea already bothering her.]
["Fine, then I'll go." Jason proposed, sounding like he was just finishing up taking out a few thugs, if the faint noises in the background were anything to go by.]
"And why's that? I already have the location, so I'll go." Tim pointed out, already gathering his stuff, preparing to leave as quickly as he could.
["Because if they try anything, I'll be able to stop them. What're you going to do with your scrawny, lanky arms?"]
"They won't fight me, Jason." Tim sighed, as if that was obvious, "and besides, I thought you didn't think they could fight anyway?"
["I don't, but anyone could take you down without even trying."]
["Jay! Ugh," Dick groans, "Look, I'll go, okay?"]
["Oh yeah? And why should you go instead of me?"]
["Because at least I won't scare them off, and if anything happens then I can handle it too."]
["I'm going." Bruce stepped in, speaking as if the decision was already made.]
["If Father is going, then so am I." Damian chipped in.]
["The last person Y/n needs to see right now is definitely you, demon spawn." Jason scoffed.]
["You'll just scare them before you even get a word in, Bruce!" Dick tried to reason.]
["Hey, um, what if I go instead? At least I won't intimidate them or push them to come with us too hard." Stephanie suggested.]
Tim sighed, "Look, I can go and reason with them. Again, I already have the location so it makes sense-"
["No." Bruce said flatly.]
"But why!?"
["Father already said that he and I are going to see L/n," Damian stated, as if it was obvious, with a small scoff. Adding on, "Todd may also have a point."]
"So?! I already have the information, and I already said that Y/n won't fight me!"
["We can't say for sure what they will and won't do," Dick said, trying to deescalate the situation, "like Babs said, it's been a while. We don't know how they'll react or how they feel about us."]
["Is this you just trying to seem reasonable, so you can go see them first?" Jason asked, unconvinced.]
["What?! Of course not-!"]
["You're not really convincing anyone here, Dick…" Stephanie pointed out.]
The back and forth went on for a while. None of them could come to an agreement, as they all want to see you. They all want to be the first to actually meet you, and to experience what they all have found out about you first hand. Even if certain individuals were more guilty of that than others, the point still remained.
They just want to see you so much, could you really blame any of them?
Barbara sighed at the chaos, the arguments and defenses just getting more and more ridiculous. Eventually, just boiling down to certain people trying to prove that they want to see you more compared to others, and therefore should be the first to see you.
They all miss you, or desperately want to see the idea of you that they had created in their heads, but that wasn't a valid reason for why they should go and see you either. Especially considering how important this meeting would be. Since it would change and determine a lot of things, depending on how well or awful it went.
"Guys, look, just- whoever's the closest to the location should go." Barbara suggested with another sigh, which thankfully caused the constant arguing to stop for now.
["Fine, alright then." Tim agreed, albeit reluctantly.]
Barbara could only be a little thankful for the cooperation, but slowly grew confused at the silence that followed.
"Tim?" She asked, only to get another sigh as a response.
["It's Dick."]
["What? Really?!" Dick exclaimed, clearly happy at this turn of events.]
["Yes." Tim confirmed with a small groan, the frown evident in his voice.]
"Well, that settles it. Dick, you're going. Tim, send him the address. The right address, okay? We don't need more arguments or complications on this." Barbara says, "Don't push them too hard. The last thing we need is for their opinion of us to get worse, Dick."
["I know, I know. It'll be fine! I've got this!" Dick still sounded a little too happy, before suddenly going quiet.]
Barbara could only hope for the best at this rate.
["Did he seriously just turn off his comm link, and leave?" Jason asked as his voice rose, clearly upset.]
["Seems like it. Can't say I'm surprised since he sounded reallly happy to be able to see Y/n." Stephanie confirmed, sighing softly.]
["This is going to go poorly." Damian grimaced with another scoff.]
["Yeah, well, we can only hope he doesn't mess up too badly."]
["Let's try to think a little realistically, Tim." Jason said.]
Barbara just let out a huff as she looked at the screens in front of her. A little hope never killed anyone, but really, she didn't have a good feeling about this.
Maybe Dick really wasn't the best choice.
—
You were still calmly sitting in your apartment, messing around with the instrument in your hands. Since you've been switching between the ones you have every now and again, trying to find a particular melody you were looking for, but hadn't found just yet. You didn't have easy access to as many instruments as you did a few months ago, but you learned to work with what you had. Having taken home the very first instrument you bought yourself, and a few more of your favorites that could fit in the apartment that you managed to get your hands on for a decent price.
Sure, you did have other places you could go to that allowed you to play the other instruments you didn't have, but you liked to play at home if you could help it. There was just something about being in a comfortable space while composing a song or melody, that just felt nice. You truly felt at home, a feeling you didn't realize you missed until you left the manor and finally had a space that you could truly call your own. A feeling you didn't want to let go of, if you could help it.
Your life was still busy but it was beginning to slow down. You dedicated more time to things you actually enjoyed, but also made an effort to take care of yourself and hold onto good habits you had developed over the years. Though you were still trying to let go of some bad ones, you were making progress.
You felt… happy here. At peace, even.
You were surrounded by people that saw you and even recognized you, and were beginning to see that you had a family of your very own all along.
Unlike the family you were adopted into, your friends showed their care and support — and if anything, made sure you wouldn't forget it. With you showing the same care and support back, and your efforts being recognized instead of pushed to the side. Being reciprocated instead of leaving you with nothing, and making you feel more alone and unwanted than words could describe.
Sure, it wasn't perfect, and you've had your fair share of arguments and times where you needed space, but that was okay. You didn't need perfection, and you didn't need constant happiness. You just needed love and care, and that's what you found. Among other things you didn't ask for or necessarily need, but appreciated deeply regardless.
You felt like you had finally found what you've been searching for, and nothing could make you happier.
Yet, somewhere in your heart, you knew it couldn't last forever, and as if hearing your worries, an abrupt knock echoed throughout the apartment.
You paused what you were doing, humming curiously to yourself as you turned to look at the front door from your position on the couch. Who could that be at this hour? It certainly wasn't your roommate, seeing as they were sound asleep in their room, and you could still hear their snores despite being in the living room. So who else could it be?
Maybe it was Ms. Harry again, seeing as she had a bit of an odd tendency to knock on the wrong door sometimes. After all, she was old, and her memory was slowly getting worse, but she was always quick to fix her mistakes. So you just shrugged and turned away, convinced that it was another one of those nights where she just so happened to mistakenly knock on your door. So you let it be, knowing that she'd correct herself on her own and move along.
However, another set of knocks sounded.
They were a little louder this time, as if the person on the other side of the door really did want to be noticed. Which made you pause and look back at the door, taking a brief glance at the clock.
It was getting late, and not many people were out and about during this time of night. Not the people on your floor, anyway. Though, you still tried to think of anyone who could be at the door right now.
Besides your roommate, not many of your friends lived particularly close. With the amount of them that would not only be up at this time of night, but would also personally come to bother you without sending a text or anything, being even smaller. The more you think about it, the shorter the list of potential people got, and you don't know if that should make you more confused or worried. Maybe a bit of both, but you weren't sure.
More knocks sounded. Again, they were louder compared to the last set, if only by a little.
Well, whoever was at your door was being rather persistent, so you decided to at least check it out.
Reluctantly, you set the instrument you had been fiddling with for the past hour to the side. Sighing softly as you got up from your spot on the couch, and quietly approached the door.
Moving about as silently as you could was an odd habit you couldn't shake, and while your friends have joked and commented about it, you suppose it was just another remnant of your life in the manor. A life you were still trying to gradually leave behind.
Regardless, you made your way to the door, and yet here — right at the foot of it, an odd feeling began to blossom in your chest. You couldn't make sense of it, but as you reached for the knob, you found yourself stopping. It didn't feel like a good idea to open the door, and though you couldn't figure out why, you just took a small breath and pushed the feeling to the side.
Clearly, you were having a weird night, but just to humor yourself, you decided to 'comply' with whatever this feeling was, and check who was at the door by looking through the peephole instead.
It was only then did you understand.
You took a few silent steps back, putting your hand over your mouth as you kept your eyes on the door. Tingles of unease slowly crawling down your spine, and your heart began to beat against your chest harshly. You don't know if what you saw was real, but you didn't want to check again. Once felt like enough, especially since your legs felt like they were sinking into the floor.
How… how did they know where you live?
You took a breath, trying to calm your nerves as you took a few more steps away from the door. You have no idea what's going on, but all you know was that you don't want Dick knowing where you live. He might know the floor and building, but you refuse to give him the exact room if you could help it. So, you quickly moved to your room and got ready, a quick plan forming in your head.
Changing was easy, and so was gathering the stuff you thought you'd need for this. Not exactly too worried about the shoes you put on or anything like that, as your heart leapt from your chest to your throat when more knocks came, basically pounding against the door.
Fuck. He was getting impatient.
Picking up the pace, you made any last minute adjustments you could to your appearance, before quickly deciding that you looked good enough to be outside. Rushing to a window, you didn't waste any time opening it, grabbing onto a pipe that was exposed on the side of the building, closing the window, and sliding down the pipe until you reached the ground. Thanking your past self for having done that enough times to be used to it.
Knowing for a fact that you heard more knocks on your way down, you hurriedly rushed back into the apartment building and basically ran to the elevator. Thanking the gods that it had opened when you first called it, you rushed inside and hit the button for your floor. Hurriedly tapping on the button that closed the elevator doors as they slowly shut, as if that would make them move faster somehow.
As the elevator rose, you prayed that it wouldn't stop and that it'd go straight up to your floor, not knowing if you could afford to risk losing time like that. Especially when the thought of a certain vigilante breaking down your door because you didn't answer it, popped into your head.
Your hands were sweaty, your heart was racing, and you could hardly stand still as you waited for the elevator to reach your floor. Staring at the counter above the elevator buttons as if that'd make the numbers go up faster, and occasionally glancing at the doors as if they'd open at any moment. Questions and possibilities rushed through your head, but you hardly had any time to think about any of them as a small ding sounded, and the doors finally opened. Ignoring how the small sound made you jump a bit, you tried not to look too nervous as you stared at the hallway in front of you.
Oh god, you were really doing this.
Not wanting to waste any more time, you stepped out of the elevator and took a breath. Trying to calm down your heart a bit as you gathered your composure, and acted as normally as you could manage. Walking forward, you rounded the corner, and there he was in all of his tainted glory.
"Di- I- I mean, Nightwing?" You call out, trying to grab the vigilante's attention before he did anything rash — and you seem to have caught him at just the right moment. As he seemed just about ready to bust open the lock to your door, and break into your apartment. Which, he thankfully pulls away as he whips around to look at you, clearly surprised.
You were almost too grateful to have caught him just in time.
"What are you doing here?" You took a few steps forward, but nothing more. Not wanting your efforts to go to waste right away, even if you knew it was only a matter of time when it came to these guys.
"Oh! Y/n- hi! I didn't, um, I didn't see you there." Dick greets with a smile, acting oddly nervous, which makes you raise a brow. "How long have you been, uh, standing there?" He asks, probably trying to see if you saw how he was about to break into your apartment. You both know you did, but you could play dumb for now.
"Um, I just got back so… not long, I guess? Why?" You tilt your head to the side, taking note of how Dick seemed to visibly relax.
Was he always so… tense?
"No reason! I was just wondering, but, uh," He glances to the side before looking back at you, and taking in your appearance. He took in every little detail he could, and wow… you really were different from what he was expecting, but in the best way possible.
Your voice was different than he remembered, and everything about you was just so… fitting, even if he's never seen it before. Even if he didn't remember having seen the style of clothes you wore on you before, or seeing the accessories you had on your person either. You really look like you've grown up now and have become an adult, with your own sense of style and fashion. Having all these little ways to show how you've grown, and become more comfortable with yourself.
Dick couldn't help but love it as much as it hurt him.
"It's good to see you." He couldn't help but blurt out, smiling softly. Though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
You only fiddled with your sleeves, averting your eyes for a moment as you purse your lips into a thin line. The way he looks at you made you feel uncomfortable to say the least, and his whole demeanor was nothing you have seen from him before. Not directed towards you, anyway, and you couldn’t help but struggle trying to remember the last time he smiled at you in person. All you could remember was seeing his back turned towards you as he walked away, a flash of a pathetic smile showing on his face briefly before he continued walking forward. Never looking back...
Maybe you've just grown too familiar seeing his smile in photographs and painted pictures, instead of in person.
Yet, how he looks you over now — and seems to take in every detail he manages to find — isn't exactly making this the most comfortable situation to be in. You feel exposed, and rub your arm before stopping yourself. You couldn't afford to show signs of weakness or vulnerability. Not with him. Not while he was in the suit.
Taking in a short breath, you gave a small nod. Managing to look back at Dick, and push down your nerves. The last thing you want was for him to notice how you truly feel, and point it out, or feel some kind of obligation to do something about it. The last thing you need was for him to stick around for longer than he has to.
"Yeah, um, anyway- that didn't really answer my question…?" You hesitantly point out, unsure if you should've mentioned anything at all, but feeling the need to do so. Even if you rather not be in this position, you prefer this over him breaking down your door.
"Did something happen? I- I don't know how much help I can give since… y'know- I'm not a crime-fighting vigilante in latex, but I can see what I can do?" You try to joke a little, mostly for yourself and to further ease your nerves as a few small chuckles escape you. Yet it doesn't help as much as you would've liked.
Did they always scare you this much?
"Oh, no! No, no, no- nothing happened! I just wanted to, um, come see you, is all!" Dick admits, and even if that may have been enough reasoning for him, it wasn't for you. It just doesn't make sense, and maybe that was the years of being put off to the side — or almost outright ignored — talking, but you couldn't imagine him just randomly popping out of nowhere, just because he wants to see you. There has to be a reason, even if you don't know what that reason would be.
"By going to my friend's apartment…? That doesn't really make a lot of sense.. um, Nightwing."
"Oh. Uh, you don't live here?" It was so weird seeing someone like Dick be so openly nervous. Was he always like this? You couldn't really tell, but if there was something going on he wasn't hiding it very well. It was almost like he was trying to not mess up or something, but you don't know why.
"No… but I do visit often? I mean, that is why I'm here and everything-" A few nervous chuckles escape you as you scratch the back of your neck, once again averting your gaze. "If you want, we could talk over a cup of coffee? I know a good place nearby, and even if I'm sure you can't exactly dine-in or anything, I could just take it to-go or something." You hesitantly offer, getting the feeling that Dick wouldn't leave easily, and still thinking that if there really is something going on — you could give him a chance to talk about it, at the very least.
"Sure! Yeah! But, uh. Is that really a good idea? It could be dangerous, and I think it's for the best if we stay inside or go to your place instead." Dick suggests, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion.
"My place?"
"Yeah, I mean I would offer mine but Bludhaven isn't exactly close, y'know?" He snickers. Yet it only made you pause. The smallest bits of a bad feeling beginning to form in your stomach.
"I- I don't think that's a good idea…"
"But it's better than hanging around outside or something, right? This is Gotham, after all." You didn't like how Dick says that. Saying it like you didn't already know. Like you were ignorant of how bad the city you live in was, despite having experienced it first hand on multiple occasions.
"I know, but there has to be some other place we can talk, then just my place."
"Well, there is the-"
"No." You immediately shot it down, already feeling like you knew what he was going to say, "Not there. Let's- let me just grab the coffee first, and we can figure it out from there, alright?" You didn't want to deal with more than you have to, and you weren't going to go back. Not now. Not ever, if you could help it.
"Oh, sure! I'll just tag along," Dick said simply, almost as if it was obvious, as he smiles, approaching you casually.
"I-" You pause before just sucking in a breath and giving a small nod, a weak smile displaying itself on your face, "-yeah, sure. That- that works." Even if you don't want Dick to follow you, it is better than having him just stand at your door, anyway. Though you still aren't exactly comfortable with the idea, you didn't have many options.
"Great! I'll meet you outside!" Dick grins before leaving through the window at the end of the hall.
Now by yourself for a while, you exhaled deeply, not even realizing how long you've been holding your breath.
You aren't sure if you could do this, but you don't feel like you have much of a choice anymore as you just try to steady and calm down your racing heart.
Making your way back to the elevator, you try to not think too much about what's going on as you step back inside, and push the correct button, waiting for it to descend.
Your heart felt heavy in your chest, and despite how you try to ignore it – you could feel that something was wrong. Though you just chalked it up to how you aren't used to Dick talking with you, or smiling towards you – or really anything at all when it came to him. You tried to, anyway, but you were slowly beginning to doubt it.
There was something in his smile, and the way that he spoke that just felt strange to you. Even if you haven't had many conversations or interactions with him, you could still catch how different he seemed tonight. Though you weren't entirely sure. After all, you didn't know much about his personality or usual antics, just as he didn't know much about you as a whole.
On any other occasion you'd try to let it go, but doing so didn't feel right this time. It feels stupid, and almost as if you'd put yourself in more danger by trying to, so for now you'd just keep it in mind. Even if nothing came of it, at least you were being cautious, right?
You aren't sure, not entirely anyway. Since it was always hard to tell what is and isn't a good decision with Dick and the others, but you don't have much time to dwell on it as the elevator doors open once again.
All you could do was just hope that this would end as quickly as it started. For both your and Dick's sake, but mostly for your own.
Nevertheless, you step out of the elevator and make your way out of the building. There, you saw Dick leaning against a lamppost, before looking at you. The smile he gave only made the pit in your stomach grow bigger, but you tried to return the gesture the best you could.
Neither smile reached either of your eyes.
"So, you know where it is?"
"Yeah- it isn't too far from here. Just a few blocks away, it's not that far of a walk."
"Great! You don't mind leading, then?"
"No, um. I can lead."
"Perfect, let's get going then." Dick says, his smile growing a little bigger as he makes his way over, and stops beside you, waiting for you to lead the way.
You just gave a nod, taking a nervous step forward as you both began to walk. You knew the directions by heart at this point, and so you just let your own feet guide you along the streets of Gotham. With Dick following right along, humming under his breath.
An awkward silence fell over both of you.
You try to not think about it too much, knowing that the detail would only further bother you, and make you feel more nervous than you already are. So you drew your attention elsewhere, and focused on the city itself instead.
Not many people were walking about, which immediately struck you as odd since Gotham was always so lively despite how dangerous it is. Even if more people were out during the day, there were still lots of people who were out at night for one reason or another. Granted, most of them are dangerous, everyone knows that, but some just simply went about their business. The city was dangerous, but that didn't stop people from going about their lives. Even if it did make it easier for thugs and the like to hide within the crowds.
Still, the change was noticeable. Gotham wasn't exactly known to be quiet, let alone this inactive. It felt strange, and when you glance over to Dick, you couldn't help but feel a little surprised that he didn't seem all that bothered by the change. If anything, you were almost getting the impression that he hadn't noticed it at all.
So, you just keep looking ahead, and focusing on other things. Deciding to not comment on anything if Dick wasn't.
Yet you still couldn’t shake it.
The absence of sirens in the air and occasional gunshots didn't sit right with you, and even the amount of people driving by wasn't as much as it'd usually be. The city didn't feel busy, let alone as alive as it would've been on any other night, and it's bothering you. It's like some sort of silent evacuation is going on, or a lock down of some kind that not everyone was informed of. There were more whispers than there were shouts, and a kind of awkward peace, instead of striking violence and chaos.
You couldn't believe it, was this Gotham's first real quiet night?
CRACK.
Perhaps you spoke too soon.
A sickening crack sounded from somewhere within the city, the noise so loud and sudden that it immediately caught your attention, as you looked in the direction of where you heard it come from. You could've sworn you heard a scream that followed right after, only for it to swiftly get cut off.
It was only then did you really take a look around, and notice how the people you passed by looked equally tense and nervous. An unsaid, but shared feeling of tension and anxiety hung in the air, and now that you noticed it — you couldn't ignore it.
What didn't help was when you saw someone in an alleyway cocking their gun, only for them to swiftly get roped into the darkness, causing them to drop their weapon in the process. A sickening pop sounded, and then deafening silence followed. The only evidence that anyone had ever stood in that particular spot, was the gun the thug had dropped.
Through the shadows of the alleyway, and faint light from the moon, you could almost make out a figure in the darkness. Yet just as they turned to look at you, your eyes darted away.
You swallowed the lump in your throat.
"Are… are you sure there isn't anything going on? It seems oddly… quiet, tonight." You point out hesitantly, small tingles dancing down your spine, and they were far from pleasant.
"Hm? Oh, well, I guess you could say something is happening, but the others are taking care of it." Dick reassures as he waves his hand dismissively. "Though that's why I think it'd be better if we talked inside. The last thing I want is for someone to eavesdrop on our conversation, and for you to get caught in the crossfire of everything." Yet you couldn't help but feel like it was a little too late for that.
Being associated with Dick, and the others — let alone being someone that they'd actually turn to for assistance or anything — already made someone prone to being caught in any crossfire that dealt with their vigilante work. Even if the person didn't get caught in between things by some miracle, it would be hard to ignore the newly painted target on their back. Being known for having a connection to Batman, and anyone he had taken under his wing one way or another, had its problems, and you already had to deal with your own fair share of trouble just for being known as another kid who got adopted by Bruce Wayne.
You wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly had to deal with more trouble just from this conversation alone, since word traveled around fast in Gotham, but you didn't want to think about that right now. You'd just deal with that when the time came, if it ever did.
Still, you didn't fully believe Dick. Your feelings of the situation becoming more messy, and unclear as you try to piece things together. You couldn't tell if what was going on was something to worry about, or stress over. Since Dick was acting so dismissively about it, and yet the effect it's having on Gotham was unmistakable. Is it big enough to cause the city to go quiet, but not dangerous enough to worry about? Or is it something else entirely?
You took a breath. Maybe it's best if you just think about it later. You already have enough on your plate as it is, and the biggest thing you have to worry about right now is Dick. All you have to do is find out what he wants, and handle things from there. That's it. That's all you have to do.
So, you nod hesitantly. Still not looking at Dick as you said, "Right. Okay. That… that makes sense, I guess," but your voice betrays you despite your best efforts as it wavered slightly. Still, you make sure to add, "but I still don't think it's the best to talk at my place."
Dick only gave a nod, saying, "Alright," and nothing else.
Your body refused to relax after that.
You still couldn’t shake the odd feeling you were getting from Dick, even if you couldn't exactly pinpoint what's wrong or where this feeling is coming from. The distant sounds of snaps, cracks, pops, and cut off shouts and screams in the distance didn't help much with that either. Especially when they weren't far, and sounded like they were only a few blocks away from you, with the distance slowly growing shorter each and every time a new sound echoed across Gotham. Especially when you realized that the snaps and cracks were the sounds of bones breaking, and the pops were joints getting dislocated. Which caused various memories to pop into your head that you tried to shove away.
Small beads of sweat began to roll down your neck. Your hands feel clammy, and you try to steady your breathing once you realize it was wavering again. You try to fix any outward reaction you notice you were displaying before Dick could catch on, fiddling with your sleeves as you try to reassure yourself.
You're going to be okay.
CRACK!
You're going to be fine.
SNAP!
You're going to make it through this.
POP!
You could tough it out.
"AAAHHH-!" CRUNCH.
This would all be over soon.
So, you try to ignore how the pit in your stomach continues to grow with each second that passes. How each sound causes you to tense, and sometimes jump the smallest bit, but you try to ignore that too.
You glance over to Dick once again, only to catch him immediately turning to face forward. The detail made you pause and furrow your brows, had he been looking at you?
You shove the thought to the side and face forward again as well. A weight of some kind begins to form in your chest, yet you still try to push on and keep walking.
Seconds turn into minutes, and it's only now that you fully realized how long this short walk felt. The sidewalks stretched on, and the streets never seemed to end. The traffic lights felt like distant glimpses of life and civilization that one would catch in fog, with the small amount of cars on the road not helping with that feeling. Dark clouds begin to form overhead, and cover the inky black sky. With the full moon looking down at you. Its sight pinned on you, staring in silence.
Maybe that's why you were so relieved when the diner finally came into view, and you found yourself holding back a sigh of relief. You had to stop yourself from running over, and rushing inside so that you didn't have to walk beside Dick anymore. Further reminding yourself of how awkward this whole experience has been for you thus far. Which didn't help with how you are feeling at all.
"How do you like your coffee?" You decide to ask, seeing as the diner was only a few steps away at this point.
"What?" Dick asks, seemingly snapping out of whatever trance he was in. With your question bringing him back to reality.
"Um, how do you like your coffee? Since, y'know. That's what we're here for?" You repeat, giving Dick a confused glance.
A look of realization flashed across Dick's face as a small 'ohh' left him. "Right, yeah. Uh," he stumbles at first before saying his preference, with you just nodding along.
"Okay, I'll just go inside and order so… you can just wait out here?" You said, unsure as you glance at the diner, only to look back at Dick.
"Yeah, I can do that." He agrees with a simple nod and small thumbs up. Making you nod as well as you took a breath.
"Right, okay. I'll just, um, head inside then." You exhale sharply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "It shouldn't take too long." You stop once you're in front of the door to the diner. Folding your hands into fists, squeezing your fingers and digging your nails into your palms, before releasing, letting your fingers relax, before repeating the process a few more times.
"Got it." Dick nods again, and you return the gesture as you open the door and step inside. Once again holding yourself back from letting out a sigh of relief, as you made your way over to the counter. A weight of some kind being lifted from your shoulders the moment the smell of food, and freshly brewed coffee hits you.
It's only when you reach the counter and see your friend did you finally sigh deeply, and heavily. You rest your arms against the counter and let your head hang low, a feeling of exhaust and fatigue slowly eating away at you. Not being in the immediate vicinity of Dick definitely made you feel exceptionally better, especially now that there’s a wall between you and him.
"Y'know, lots of people have been comin' in and sighing just like that, tonight." The waitress points out as she makes her way over to you. Her comment causing you to lift your head, and look at her. She gave you a little smile, amused by your antics, but you could see the little worry that hid behind her eyes.
"Really?" You ask, allowing yourself to relax a little, now that you were in the presence of a friend. You didn't see Jessica outside of the diner much, but that was never a problem since you've been a regular for a while now. You had met when you first began coming to the diner late at night for coffee since you couldn't sleep, coming around just when the place was about to close. It was only after a few more nights passed that you both began to talk, and really connect. You like to consider her one of your closest friends because of all she's done for you, and not just because she knows how to make your coffee just the way you like it.
"Yeah, it's kinda weird but there's seems to be somethin' going on tonight. So I guess it makes sense." Jessica says with a shrug, "Anyway, you want the usual, I'm assuming?"
You perk up at that, "Wait, you think something's going on too?" You couldn't help but ask, though made sure to also say, "Oh, and that'd be great. But I'll… um, take it to go this time, and I'll have another coffee for my…" you glance over your shoulder and look at Dick. He had his back turned to the window, and looked to be talking to someone with what you assumed to be his comm link.
You turn back to Jessica, a crooked smile on your face, "My acquaintance…?"
"I can't think of anyone who doesn't. Everyone can tell that something ain't right about tonight. Hell, even Jim looked bothered when he came in. I swore he was shakin' like a leaf, and looked like something was out to get him too." Jessica replies, writing down your order on her notepad mindlessly, already knowing it by heart.
"Jim? Like the commissioner?"
"Nope, I'm talkin' about the guy who came in from Metropolis."
"Oh." You said, before slowly nodding as you thought about it, "I guess that makes sense. Though, I didn't think that guy had a single nervous bone in his body, to be honest."
"Well, y'know what they say; Gotham changes people. It can even make people like him, who're barely present with the rest of us, get a little shaken up every now and again." Jessica hums, looking at what she has written down for a moment.
"Right… yeah."
Jessica sighs softly, looking at you with unsaid care and concern before speaking up again, "Anyway, does your…" she drags out the 'r' as she glances behind you, before looking back at you. Waving her pen in the air as she gestures towards the window, "'acquaintance' want anything else?"
"No, um. Just the coffee will do." You rub the back of your neck, making sure to mention how Dick said he likes his coffee. Jessica only gave a nod as she wrote it down.
"Alright, but I gotta ask. Is that guy bothering you?" Jessica asks as she starts to brew the coffee, shooting you a certain look, "I can get William to have a chat with 'im if he's causing you trouble. He won't like it, but he'll do it, y'know."
The question catches you off guard, but you quickly shake your head, and try to adjust the smile on your face to look less obvious. As much as you don't want to be in this situation, you at least want to hear Dick out. If there's even the smallest chance that he really does need something from you — you want to help. You don't want to be the reason why whatever is going on is prolonged any further, or if a solution they have is delayed.
Despite everything they've done to you, and the little they've given you throughout all of your life, you want to do this one last thing for them. That's all.
You could afford to do this one last time, you thought as much anyway.
"I'm fine, he- he isn't bothering me… I promise." You try to reassure your friend, mustering the most convincing smile you could as you watch her work. She clearly knew what she was doing, since it looked as if it came so naturally to her, and you wouldn't be surprised if it did, with all she's told you in the past.
"Well, alright. But if he does anything you can always shoot me a text or give me a call. I can't do much myself, but I know people."
You huff at her words, an easy smile making its way up your face as your shoulders relaxed, "I know. Thanks, Jess."
"Don't mention it. After all, I've gotta look out for the person who gives the best tips." She snickers, a smile of her own beginning to show itself. You can't help but laugh lightly as you just shake your head, and look away.
The soft tune of old melodies plays in the background, filling the space of the diner and washing away any awkwardness that may have been present otherwise. Some jazz begins to play, and you couldn’t help but tap your foot along with the rhythm, the voice of the singer taking all of your worries, and whisking them away.
The other customers are quiet for the most part, but seem at ease for the time being. The outside world almost seemed so far away despite being just past the windows, but there was some peace to be had with that. The street lights gave off a homey feeling with their soft orange hues spilling into the diner, the quiet from the outside only making this place feel more safe, in a strange way.
"So it's just for the money, huh? And here I thought you genuinely cared about me." You chuckle, fiddling with your fingers mindlessly.
"Of course I do. But I'd like to see you work in customer service and living off of tips," Jessica chuckles as well, "Maybe then you'd see how that's just me appreciating you more, hon'."
You just shake your head, "Right, whatever you say."
"I'm being serious, Y/n. Even the boss appreciates you, and your wonderful donations." Jessica snickers, beginning to pour the coffee into two cups.
"You make it sound like he runs a charity, and I'm a big donor."
"Of course he does! Except, y'know. It isn't your typical charity, and we gotta work our asses off to ‘give back to the people’. With your money making up about… hm, seventy-five percent of my paycheck?"
"Jess!"
"No, no. You're right, it's more like eighty-three. Maybe even eighty-five at a push." She laughs, giggling at the expression you make as you huff, before laughing a bit yourself.
You both continue to joke lightly, laughs and giggles being shared as Jessica makes your order, and you patiently wait. A light, soft sort of smile resting on your face, and you almost forget what had made you so tense in the first place. Which was one of the reasons you love this diner so much — it felt like a home away from home, even if it was only a few blocks away from your apartment. Jessica just added onto that comfortable vibe you got from this place, and your mind always felt so quiet when you're here.
It almost made everything feel like it'd be okay, and that as long as you remain inside, nothing bad could happen to you.
Unfortunately, it was only that. A feeling, and nothing more. Your current situation only made that detail all the more apparent.
"Welp, here you go. They're both hot and ready, so be careful, okay?" She smiles down at you before snickering, "Though you don't gotta tell the guy that if you don't want to."
You're confused for a moment, not entirely sure who Jessica was talking about until it suddenly hit you. Right, Dick.
You laugh along, but it wasn't as genuine as it was before, and died down much quicker. As if scared that he'd hear both of you from past the window now. The thought alone made you suddenly hyper-aware of his presence outside. "Right, yeah.."
Grabbing the two cups, you slide them towards yourself and stare down at them for a moment, finding yourself hesitating again. You don't know why you were taking so many pauses, but this whole thing just didn't feel right to you. Though you couldn't exactly pinpoint why, you knew the reason was different than why you were so awkward around Dick, and reluctant to talk to him.
"... Are you sure that guy isn't bothering you?" Jessica asks again, leaning against the counter as she places a hand over one of yours. You couldn't meet her eyes, knowing that if you did it'd just make things harder for yourself. So you look off to the side, unsure.
"Yeah!… He's just.. yeah." Was all you could really say. You don't want to say anything that would make Jessica worry more, but most importantly, you don't want to make it harder for yourself to leave. You got this far, would it really be alright if you leave now? If you took back the words you said, and just went back home? Probably not.
You hear Jessica sigh, causing your heart to feel heavier in your chest. "Look, I get it if you don't want me to get someone to handle him, but if you don't want to stick around, and don't want him to see- I can let you out the back." She offers, giving your hand a small squeeze. Trying to reassure you, and give you something to work with.
You perk up at her offer, looking back up at her in slight surprise, "Really?" You ask. The sense of hope and relief that washed over you didn't make you feel any better, and only furthered the conflict going on in your mind.
"Yeah. Especially if it'll get you away from that weirdo." She chuckles with a slight smirk, trying to lighten the mood a little.
You think about it for a moment, just looking at Jessica as countless thoughts rush through your head. Why did this have to be so complicated? Why are you making this so hard for yourself? The choice is so simple, so easy, and yet you just couldn't take it, but why?
You look back at Dick, and make eye contact.
You both stand there, staring at each other for a while, and the music playing in the diner suddenly didn't feel so comforting anymore. Your shoulders lost their weightlessness, and gravity seemed eager to try and pull you down to the floor.
Dick is the first to look away, presumably resuming his conversation with whoever he's been talking to this entire time, but you didn't. You don't.
Turmoil and conflict is clear in your eyes. You could see it through your faint reflection in the glass of the window that separates you and Dick. Which, from that alone, you begin to feel worse.
Even if you did leave, would that change anything? Would you be able to actually leave Dick? Or would he catch on? They already know where you live, and even if you managed to fool Dick momentarily, you doubt that he believes your little lie now if he is talking to the others. Yet if you went back to him, what would happen? Where would you both end up going?
You look back down at the two coffees, and sigh. Either way, you’re faced with uncertainty. If you left now, there's no telling if you'd actually be able to get away. Yet if you went back to Dick, you couldn't even imagine what would happen next. It felt like you were stuck in a lose-lose situation; having to pick between two different types of poison, and deal with whatever consequences that came with the kind you chose.
Holding the cups a little tighter, you think it over for another moment before shaking your head. Taking in a breath, and letting yourself calm down a bit.
"I think I'll be okay, but thanks for the offer, Jess." You gave her a little, appreciative smile, "I'll just message or call you if anything happens, like you said." Jessica didn't seem entirely sure of your decision, but nods anyway.
"Well, if you're sure, then alright. But the moment shit goes south, you know who to call."
You nod, and give her a small ‘thank you’ as you paid and left. Taking the drinks with you as you did so, the warmth of the diner slowly leaving you, and now being replaced with the cold breeze of the night.
"Sorry that took so long, I would've told you otherwise if I had known." You apologize as you turn to Dick, flinching at his close proximity. Since, you didn't realize just how close he had been standing to the door until now.
"It's no big deal! Besides, it didn't take that long." Dick said, dismissing your apology as he kept up that smile of his. You only nod, handing him his coffee, which he gladly took.
"If you say so.." You glance off to the side again, remaining quiet for a moment before looking back at Dick, "You were talking to the others, I assume?" You decide to ask, not exactly sure if you should've said anything, but you didn't see the harm in doing so at the moment.
"Hm? Oh, yeah! I uh, I was." Dick confirms with a small, awkward nod.
"Is… everything okay?"
"Yep! Things are going well. Great, even!"
"Oh. Alright then."
Another beat of silence passed over both of you.
You clutch the cup in your hands, its heat pinching and nibbling at your skin through the sleeve. You took a glance inside the diner, and noticed that while Jessica is doing her job, she's still shooting looks and glances your way past the window. She furrows her brows as you both made eye contact, and you could tell what she was going to do just from that alone.
You shake your head, and play it off as if you were just pushing a thought away once you look back at Dick, shoulders rising and almost locking into place as you try to stop your smile from dropping. Holding it at just the right height, and making sure it didn't look too crooked.
"So, um. How about we walk and talk? Just so that we're doing something instead of just standing around- y'know?" You suggest, a wry chuckle escaping you as your eyes wander off again.
"Sure, yeah! We can do that," Dick nods along, and you give a curt nod in return.
"Great!" You begin to walk off, only to be stopped by Dick as he grabs your sleeve, causing you to flinch a little bit. Whipping your head around to look back at him, your heart stopping for a moment as something flashed in your eyes, before it quickly disappeared.
For a split second, you look at Dick as if he was about to kill you, or something similar to that. Like he was going to hurt you in some unimaginable way by just trying to grab your attention.
Though Dick just pushed that little detail to the side, he couldn't help but keep it in mind. He didn't want to think about what it could mean, but couldn't forget it either. Since no matter how quick it was, or how short it lasted, just seeing that expression on your face and directed towards him — it hurt worse than any injury he could possibly receive in any shape or form.
He didn't want to believe what seemed to be the undeniable truth.
So, instead, he tucked it away in the back of his mind. Still managing some kind of smile as he looks at you, hiding behind a face of confusion.
"Isn't your place back that way?" Dick asks, gesturing behind him with a tilt of his head. He notices how you swallowed — taking note of how nervous and on edge you seem to be. He's known since he first saw you, but he didn't think anything of it. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want it to mean anything.
So he ignores it. Pushing it away until he can't see it anymore, despite it being so clear and right in front of his face.
He prays to every god he knows, and hopes to every heaven he's aware of — blind and ignorant to the fact that they have long since shut him out. The light and grace they'd give, forever out of his reach.
His little wishes couldn't help him now. Not when they never helped you.
"I-" You couldn't help but sigh, shaking your head and gathering your thoughts, before speaking again, "I already said that I don't think that it's a good idea to talk there, Dick. And I don't think it's smart to have this conversation here either- so let's just walk as we try to figure this out. Please?" Your weak smile begins to strain as you take a step back, grabbing Dick's hand and tugging him toward you. You hope he'll listen, if only this one time.
Dick looks to the side, unsure as he weighs his options before looking back at you, and suddenly he's hit with all the convincing he needed.
You look at him pleadingly, almost silently begging for him to comply and just come along with you. The moon, albeit partially covered thanks to the dark clouds passing overhead, lit up your eyes in such a way that further emphasized the emotions you were feeling, but left unsaid. How the internal conflict and struggle you were experiencing, made the color in your irises shine that much brighter, and how such a little thing took Dick's breath away.
Suddenly, for a moment, he realizes how soft your hand was in his, despite the fabric of his glove in between them. Even if it is just for that split second, he can't help but… love it. Love you. So how can he say no? How could he say no when he's slowly beginning to see all of these little things about you in a different way? When his guilt was slowly shifting to something else? Something worth trying for?
How can he deny such a little request from his little sibling? Especially when you look at him like that? He can't. So he didn't. Unable to stop the soft but partially happy smile that grew on his face.
You found it uncanny and misplaced, but he found it fitting and refreshing in a way. A way he hadn't felt before — not in a while, anyway.
"Sure, alright. Let's get going then!" Dick replies after a second of silence had passed, holding onto your hand and walking beside you when you began to move again.
You didn't say anything this time, just nodding as you focused on walking away from the diner.
Yet, Dick couldn't help but look back at the establishment. Curious as to why you wanted to move on from it so quickly, and wanted to see if he could catch anything in particular that might've caused it. Not that Dick was complaining by any means, but he couldn't help his own curiosity.
It was then that Dick and the waitress from inside the diner made eye contact. Causing Dick to narrow his eyes, and the waitress doing the same back with a certain look in her eyes.
He didn't like it, and even if the impression he's getting was far off the mark, he didn't care enough to change it.
Yet, when you and Dick pass the diner, your phone suddenly vibrates.
Oblivious to how Dick's gaze lingered on the diner for a little while longer — or how he was even looking back at all — you fish your phone out of your pocket once you shake Dick’s hand off mindlessly, not thinking too much about the action as you check your notifications.
There, you saw that Jessica had left you a message.
['Be careful with that one. I'd watch your back if I were you, hon.']
You were confused to say the least, but before you could think to respond, Dick turned back to you and suddenly spoke. Smile ever present, eyes trained on you.
"So, where are we going?"
"Oh- um, I'm not entirely sure." You admit, pocketing your phone quickly without much thought. Hoping Dick didn't see what the text said, but you didn't count on it. Not much slipped past him or the others in any given situation, not unless it was something dealing with you. Though, with his attention on you now? You couldn't be too sure of what he would and wouldn't notice. Not anymore.
After all, just knowing that he could see you now, and is actually talking with you, along with the fact that you've been in his space for over a minute was… a new experience. You didn't think you'd get this far — you never have before, and so this was all new territory for you. All you knew, and could gather from how things were going thus far, was that slipping away wouldn't be as easy as it was before. Not with his eyes trained on you like they were now.
"Well, that's fine but we still shouldn't stay out for long. It isn't safe." Dick pointed out again, causing you to sigh and nod your head.
"I know, but I still-" you cut yourself off, and took a quick breath before continuing, "it doesn't feel right going back to my place. Besides, not many people are out tonight… and as weird as that is- at least not many people will be around to eavesdrop on our conversation, if we did talk out here." You said, shrugging your shoulders, and taking a slow but small sip of your coffee. It burned your tongue, but at least it gave you something else to think about.
"That doesn't exactly make Gotham any less dangerous, and besides- those who are walking around, and are still out and about, could be from a worse crowd. You should know that, Y/n." Again, you didn't appreciate how he spoke to you like that. Talking as if you were ignorant to that possibility, or just generally unaware that Gotham was a bad place filled with even worse people.
"I do, I'm just saying-" you try to defend yourself, looking at Dick before immediately looking away. You don't like how he looked at you, and how much taller it made him appear, "Gotham isn't just filled with criminals, and besides… most people look like they're rushing to get home anyway." You comment, noticing how a group of people — presumably friends or roommates, maybe even 'coworkers' to a certain degree — rushed inside what appeared to be an apartment building. Along with how a family quickly got inside of their house, ushering their kids inside before hurriedly closing the door behind them.
"It's like some kind of apocalypse is going on…" You mutter, narrowing your eyes at the sight, before just focusing your attention back on the sidewalk ahead of you. You didn't recall getting a memo of any kind, or an alert if something like that was really going on. Though, your best bet to figuring anything out was unfortunately through Dick, by the looks of things.
Dick rubs the back of his neck, a strange feeling of nervousness, and something close to embarrassment, radiating off of him as he chuckled. The strange detail caught your attention, causing you to look at him and notice that his smile had become uneven, before he fixed it when he noticed you were looking.
You couldn't help but raise a brow, silently questioning Dick with your eyes, a small hint of suspicion growing behind your gaze.
Dick just shrugs, fixing himself the very next moment, which only causes you to narrow your eyes. Were they actually causing some kind of apocalypse? Surely not… right?
"Then that's just all the more reason why we should head inside too." Dick said, giving your hand a soft squeeze. Forcing you to acknowledge that you were holding hands once again – but when did he grab it? You don’t remember feeling him hold it again until now… but that wasn’t important, not now anyway, "I don't want anything bad to happen to you, Y/n. I'm just worried."
You grew quiet at that, a mix of emotions beginning to swirl around in your chest before you just shove it to the side. You couldn't tell if he was joking or trying to be genuine….
Though, your heart and mind seemed to agree that he wasn't being serious, and maybe that's why you didn't like how he looked at you.
Taking your hand back once again, you shook your head dismissively, "You're a vigilante, right? One of Gotham's finest, and looking over Bludhaven at that- if anything happens I'm sure you can handle it." Huffing, you add, "Even then, I can handle myself."
Dick's eyes linger on you for a little longer. The hand that had been holding yours twitched, and he kept it there for a second before letting it drop to his side, his smile beginning to die down before he sighed. "Still, I think it'd be better if we tried to avoid something like that all together."
"I think it'd also be better if we could avoid something like that happening at my place."
"It won't, not with me around."
"So now you're confident that nothing will happen?" You laugh lightly, more air escaping you above all else, and disbelief clear in your eyes and tone. "You can't be sure. Someone could follow us there and find out where I live."
You snicker again, not fully believing that you were actually having to tell Dick all of this, "I mean, it might not matter much to you but-"
"It does matter to me. I don't want you to get hurt, or anyone else to come after you." He took another breath, and you bite your tongue. Reframing from mentioning how it was a little too late to be saying that now. "Look, I understand if you don't want to go back to where you're staying, but if that's the case then we can just got to the-"
"No." You speak up before he could even finish. Already knowing what he was going to say, and the mere thought of going back to that place made you feel uneasy. Causing you to clutch your cup with both of your hands, barely registering its heat.
"I didn't even get to say where…" Dick sighs again, just pushing the detail to the side for the moment, "Can you at least tell me why? I don't see why we shouldn't."
"It just-" You didn't want to say it outloud. Not out here. Not with him around, and listening to every word that fell out of your mouth. "I just don't think that's smart either. Again, someone could follow us back there and find out about… you know."
"Well, then someone else could just take you back-"
"Wouldn't that seem suspicious if someone saw, though?"
"Now you're worried about being seen?"
"Like you weren't before-"
"Y/n, please. We can't just stand around here and talk about stuff all night. Either way, we have to go somewhere." Dick tries to reason, adding on, "Look, if you don't want to go to your place or the 'other' place, how about we just-"
"No."
"I didn't even get to finish!"
"I know what you were about to say, and just-" You took a breath of your own, sweat rolling down the back of your neck as your hands began to shake a little bit. Your nerves were getting to you. You could feel it with how your chest became heavier, and how it was getting progressively harder to continue walking — as if your feet were slowly sinking into the cement below you.
"I don't think it'd be the best to go there either." You mutter, looking off to the side.
"Why? I can sort of understand the 'other' place-" he didn't, but in his attempt to get through to you, he said otherwise, "but why not there? Again, we can't just wander around all night and talk out in the open like this, Y/n. You should know better than that." Dick states, furrowing his brows as his gaze remains pinned on you, never once looking away.
You wish he would. By the Gods did you wish he would look away just once. Yet such a blessing had yet to be given, if it would ever come.
With every second that passed, your doubt only grew.
"I just don't see why we can't go to any other places? Somewhere that isn't personal, or technically considered to be personal since it could reveal your identity and such- and I don't think I have to give reasons why someone knowing where I live, or used to live, would be bad too- but… yeah. Just-" You gather your thoughts, looking down at your cup of coffee for a brief moment, "Just somewhere that isn't necessarily connected to either of us, or could reveal potentially personal or sensitive information on one or both of us? Like the park, or some random rooftop…? You guys still have talks up there, right?" You manage to slide in a little joke, but the laugh you gave is more awkward and nervous than anything, so you just clear your throat and continue.
"Or- or just an abandoned building or something? If you still really want us to be inside? Since Gotham has some of those… maybe too many of them- but that's besides the point." You try to suggest, hesitant to even say anything but managing somehow regardless.
You still couldn’t bring yourself to look at Dick – so you missed how his brows creased, and his smile was just barely holding up. His hand twitches again, but he tries to stay mindful of the coffee he's still holding.
"Are you serious?" His tone made you press your lips into a thin line. Your nails begin to dig into the sleeve of your cup. "I get that you're paranoid, but are you serious right now? Y/n, c'mon." An odd warmth began to bloom in your chest at Dick's words. It was far from pleasant, and lit like a match, with the flame itself bursting to life. It started much larger than you were used to, and controlling it was more difficult than you expected.
"I'm just saying…"
"Saying… what? That we either stay out in the open where anything can happen, or a clearly dangerous place where we're most likely going to get jumped? 'Cause if that's what you're saying, then I don't even know what to say, Y/n." Dick really can't believe you right now. Just how long have you been living in Gotham, exactly? Who were you even living with? He couldn't understand what you were thinking suggesting such a thing.
He had a feeling you may have been unaware of the true dangers of Gotham, since he and the others had kept you away from such things – from what he could tell. Not to mention that you didn't have any intention of becoming a vigilante yourself, from what he remembered, but for you to turn out like this? He had no idea you were so oblivious, and if he had before, he never would've let you out of that apartment building. He never should've to begin with, clearly.
"No! Of course that's not what I'm saying!" You couldn't help but yelp in surprise, finally looking at Dick as you held your coffee closer to your chest. You felt offended that he honestly thought you'd think something so stupid, but you didn't know what was worse. How he didn't seem convinced, or how he looked as if he believed himself more than you.
"Then…?" Dick drags on, gesturing for you to give an explanation. Almost daring you to say something that proved him wrong, or went against his point.
You huff harshly, the warmth in your chest beginning to turn hot as you went on to say, "I'm just saying why can't we go anywhere else, that isn't technically connected to you or me in some way?"
"... And your solution to that is to go to a public area, stay out in the open but on the rooftops, or go to one of the abandoned places around Gotham where something bad will definitely happen?" Dick rose a brow, with you restraining yourself from rolling your eyes. Instead, you manage a sigh – smile long gone from your face.
"Those were just examples, Nightwing." You hold back a scoff, clutching your cup a little tighter, "We don't actually have to go to any of those places, or do those things. I was just trying to suggest ideas, not say; 'Hey, we should go to that one place by the bay that's been abandoned for around five years and have our talk there. Since surely nothing will happen, and a gang totally doesn't hang around that area.' Or something like that."
"That's oddly specific," Dick gave you a questionable look before shaking his head, "but still. Those places and areas aren't safe. At least the places I suggested are, and if something happens, then there's security measures in place for that."
"How do you know if my place is secure or not?"
"Are you trying to say that it isn't?"
"No- but it's not like I have a super complicated system or hypersensitive security like- y'know. The other places. So what would make my place so safe?"
Dick sighs, "Fine. Alright, maybe your place isn't our safest bet right now. Even if I feel like I can definitely handle protecting a single apartment." You didn't even bother to say anything, just rolling your eyes and shaking your head instead.
"I don't want anything to happen to my place, Nightwing."
"You really don't think I can't defend one room?"
"I don't live alone, D- Nightwing. I don't just have myself or my things to worry about." You couldn't help but say, scoffing under your breath. However, Dick could only blink, a little confused.
"You… have a roommate?"
"Yeah? Who do you think I was referring to when I said I was visiting a friend?"
"Oh! I thought that was a complete lie. I guess that makes sense, but why would you need a roommate anyway? Does your job not make enough money or-"
"Does that really matter right now?" You gave Dick a pointed look, hoping that he would take the hint and drop the subject, "We're trying to find out what the fuck to do, not delve into my personal life."
"Alright, fine- no need to get all worked up." Dick put his free hand up to show that he wasn't trying to start anything, and was trying to keep this peaceful and civil, "But why don't we just go to one of the other two areas? They're secure, and I'm sure your friend won't get hurt if something ends up happening while we're there."
You open your mouth to say something, only to shut it and look away. You clutch your cup a little tighter.
How could you tell Dick that you just don't want to be in the manor again, and that you didn't want to go back — without actually having to tell him? How do you tell Dick that you don't feel comfortable being in a space where you knew the rest of them would be, and that you'd rather have to just deal with him than anyone else? That you had a bad feeling about going to any of those places with him, and you don't trust him or the others at all?
You'd rather avoid going to the manor if you could help it, and you had more than enough reasons for feeling that way. Though, would Dick understand? Would he accept your reasons, and see why you wanted to go somewhere else? Maybe not, and even if he did understand, there was no guarantee that he would value your personal comfort over your 'safety'. There was no guarantee that he still wouldn't try and get you to agree with him.
You also wanted to avoid going to the clock tower. Seeing as just dealing with Dick was… difficult, to say the least, and if you could barely handle one — you couldn't imagine what it'd be like to handle another. Since there was bound to at least be someone else at the tower, just waiting for you to arrive.
The thought alone made you feel uneasy.
-------------------
[Chapter 3, part 2]
#yandere batfam#platonic yandere batfam#gn reader#yandere dc#platonic yandere#yandere x gn reader#yandere batfam x reader#yandere dc x reader#yandere dick grayson
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Jealousy
Summary: Miguel can't seem to get his way and for reasons he couldn't believe.
Word count: 2k+
Warnings: None(sneaky Miguel)
A/n: here is pt.3 I hope you guys enjoy I will be giving a pt.4 which will be the final part if anyone would like to be tagged just let me know and I'll be happy to! I hope I got every one who wanted to be tagged in Pt.3 there were so many of you and I just want to sat thank you from the bottom of my heart for loving my story! I hope you guys enjoy!xx
Tags list: @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @m4zapan @luciiferian @stinygirl009 @anonymoussomebody345 @watamoteru @smolrain08 @amberpanda99 @hantheconqueror @mhm-ok-sure @chuckle-nuts. @a-helpless-romantic @witchofwhimsey @rin-matsuoka345-blog @cherripunch26 @anneliese500 @theleftkittycollection @ok-boke @nanushkka @gugggu6gvai @joestarbitch @distractionforyourthoughts @tanchosanke @lokiseason @hao-ming-8 @sport-lova @munixumai @capybaraaa . @dearrdarlingg @riddle-me-im-sirius @melovetitties @liyanahelena @bat1212 @christinesdemoness1958 @musicpookie @luujjvi @ilovejeansosomuch @m0chac0ffee @perrierbottleofproblems @zayxcc @shyshyshy-19 @futuristicpandakid @lilyevans1
Parts: One Two Three^ Four
Credits to the owner:)^
It had been quite a few months since you removed yourself from the spider society.
You thought that in doing so you lost your friends but Pete, Hobbie, and Gwen all stuck by your side and visited you every now and then.
Not all at once, you didn't want Miguel to figure out that they were coming to you and yell at them for it or worse, come too.
In that aspect everything was great.
When it came to your healing journey, you had good days and bad days.
Or more like bad nights.
During the day you kept busy working in your world's Alchemax, and at night you dealt with spider business which was slow this time around.
This is when you found yourself thinking about him.
The silence of the city only made your thoughts louder and all they reminded you of was Miguel.
But you hadn't given up on your promise to yourself, you would move on.
And then you decided to get a dog.
He was the best choice you could have made, your sweet little milo.
May Day absolutely loved him, she wanted to bring him to her birthday party but to be honest you didn't even know if you’d be taking yourself.
Pete didn't want to hide anything from you so he told you as soon as he found out that Miguel actually agreed to not just let him throw her party at HQ but go to it as well.
Risking him speaking to you and ruining all of your growth was not in your plans.
You had to be honest with yourself, if Miguel spoke to you with the slightest warth you knew you’d break so for your own sake staying away from him was best.
So, that's where you were with all of this, sitting on a rooftop enjoying a slice of pizza thinking about whether you should show up tomorrow or not.
Deciding to call it a night on saving the city you swung home looking forward to Milo’s greeting cuddles.
Back at HQ Miguel watched as everyone scurried to put together the decorations for May Day's birthday.
The chaos was loud and he almost regretted agreeing to it.
“Ay dios.” he mumbled as he walked past Gwen and Hobbie pretending they were there.
“So you think she’ll come? May Day is her favorite spider. She wouldn't miss it, right?” he heard Gwen say.
Suddenly he froze.
“There is a chance if you ask me. I believe in her.” Hobbie replied webbing up the sign he was putting on the wall, much easier than tape.
Miguel began walking again hoping no one would notice how he stopped to listen in on the conversation.
Walking into his office space he called for Lyla, “Give me the list of spiders coming to this party.” he said pulling up his screens.
“But boss, that's hundreds?” she asked confused but the request.
“That's fine, just give it to me, Please.” he asked, growing impatient with his AI.
“Alright calm down here it is, Who are we looking for anyways?” she said, sliding it over to him.
“No one, just making sure its a safe list.” he said looking over his shoulder.
Bles mary janes heart for added the yes, no and maybe option it made him easier to see who was actually coming.
All the names had a yes except for one, one big red MAYBE and it was next to yours.
Shoulders dropping in slight disappointment he let out a sigh.
These past months he’d been gloomy.
The only time he perked up was at the mention of your name, but sadly that's as close he got to you these days.
He found out that Pete, Hobbie, Gwen and even fucking Miles anomaly Morales snuck off to see you.
He was jealous.
He hated that you let them into your life.
Each time they came back laughing about something you said, he was jealous.
Everytime they mentioned a fun moment you shared, he was burning in jealousy.
It made him sick.
His blood boiled knowing someone else was making you laugh when he just wanted to have you to himself.
He liked it when you spent hours in his office “helping him” with reports.
He only ever gave you simple tasks just to keep you at his side.
To watch your face when you were focused on the footage, the way you bite your lip when you think you're getting close.
The way you kept eye contact and showed interest in whatever it was he said made him think about other things you could do together whilst keeping eye contact.
God, you drove him insane in the best way.
But not having you close like that was driving him insane in the worst way.
Spiders voluntarily left him alone now not wanting to cross him on a bad which now was very frequent.
The only reason he stuck around at the end of team briefings was to see if he’d hear any news on you.
He didn't think anyone noticed his intent, But then there was Jess always on his six.
She knew from day one that you had fallen, but oh was he gonna fall harder and he did.
She saw the way he searched for you in a room, how he’d ask you and only you to help him on reports.
Nothing went past her.
“Did a villain sneak onto the list?” she said, creeping up behind him.
Quickly removing the screen he looked over his shoulder letting out a simple shrug to answer her.
“Just want to see who I‘ll be dealing with for the evening.” he said trying to cover up his annoyance.
“Anyone stand out?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Nope. All good.” he said standing up, “ I‘ll see you tomorrow Jess, get some rest.” he said leaving his office.
Smiling to herself, Jess knew he was slowly breaking down.
All it would take to finish the job was see you.
She knew you had RSVP’d to come yesterday but she made Lyla change it just to confirm her suspicions further.
And he did just that.
----
Mentally preparing yourself for today was the hardest part.
You planned out your evening.
Go in, greet everyone, stick to Hobbie, Gwen and Miles, hold May Day, and then make the excuse that Milo had an accident and you had to get back home.
A solid plan.
Suddenly a portal opened and in walked Hobbie, “My lady.” he greeted extending an arm.
Taking his hand you stood up, “Oh, one sec.” you said as you sent a signal activating your suit.
“Woaahhh the new suit is wicked.” he said watching it go on.
“It's nano tech, you like it?” you said as it reached up to your neck before stopping.
“Killin it, as always.” he said before walking into the portal.
Well, here goes nothing.
“Be good Milo, Mommy will be home soon.” you said, patting his sleepy head before walking in.
Deep breath, here goes nothing.
Walking in you put on your brightest smile.
“Hey! There she is and get a look at this suit, this new? I like it!” Peter yelled, taking your hand and spinning you.
“Hey guys! Nice to see everyone again, Miles nice to meet you.” you said laughing.
“Nice to meet you, very nice lady, thank you for not hunting me down.” he said, shaking your hand viciously.
Laughing at your inside joke you pulled him in for a hug secretly taking a peak over his shoulder.
You could feel his stare on you, you just didn't know from where.
The party went on as planned, you stayed cautious, had a good time with your friends and held May Day until she eventually fell asleep.
Everyone told you that you had a gentle way when it came to kids so falling asleep just came to them naturally.
Taking that as your sign to leave you handed her over to Mary Jane and went to go look for Hobbie.
“Hey, has anyone seen Hobbie?” you asked not being able to find him.
“Rooftop, girly pop.” you heard Jess say as she hugged you goodbye.
“Oh great, we can open a portal there. Bye guys guess I‘ll see you around.” you said waving to the rest of the spiders.
Making your way up you looked around the rooftop to find it empty.
Huh. Maybe he went for a swing. You thought looking over the city.
He’d been told a couple times not to but that only made him do it more.
“He’s not here.” you heard behind you. Well shit.
“Thanks Jess.” you heard making you chuckle to yourself.
Of course.
“Well then it makes no use to stay up here.” you said turning to walk away.
“Wait, just give me a second.” he said, reaching out for you.
“One. Welp there is it and look I've given you five extra just by standing here.” you said sarcastically.
Trying to leave once more he actually Physically got in your way this time.
“Please.” he said trying to get you to look at him and you could've sworn you heard sincerity in there.
“Fine. talk.” you said crossing you arms sitting on the ledge trying to create some distance.
“ I am sorry,” he blurted out.
“ I don't forgive you. We done here? Great.” you said standing up ready to bee line it for the door.
Your tactics were failing you and your front could only last for so long.
“No no wait just-” he was cut off by a beeping sound coming from your suit.
It was your alarm for Milo’s dinner time.
Gasping you stood up from where you sat.
“Oh Milo.” you said turning off the alarm.
“What? Who the fuck is Milo?” he said anger began to rise up in his chest.
“Really wish we could finish this but I‘m late to a very important dinner with someone who does respect me, so excuse me.” you said finally getting past him.
Stunned by your response he watched you walk past him.
Who in the actual fuck was Milo and what rights did he have over you?
Following you back into the party he watched as you asked Pete to get you back home.
“Oh yeah sure, How's Milo by the way?” he asked while opening the portal.
Again with this fucking Milo.
“Oh he's really great, miss him more every second we're apart.” you said, putting your hands on your hips.
Time was moving real slow right about now.
But for Miguel it was moving a little too fast, he didn't want you to get back to Milo.
He wanted you here, patching things up with him.
“Gotta love Milo am I right? May Day sure does.” he said, quickly shutting up when he realized Miguel was still there.
“Well thanks for the portal, tell Mj the party was great, take care pete.” you said hugging him goodbye.
Just as you are about to be free Miguel grabs your hand.
“Will you come back, Please?” he asked, the desperation in his voice could be heard from miles away.
“ I don't think so Miguel, it took me a while to realize that there was nothing wrong with me. And Milo helped with that even if it's just been a couple of months and I‘m still getting the hang of things. He loves me for it and he needs me.” you said, smiling at the thought of your sweet little furbaby.
Standing up straight Miguel let your arm go, “Lucky Milo.” was all he said before you took it as your queue to leave.
Defeated by the night's outcome he went back into his office and let out some frustration on the nearest machine.
There it was again, feeling sick of jealousy.
Someone else had your attention, time and love.
And all he had was your rejection.
At this point in time Miguel wished he was anybody else other than himself.
And just like that jealousy started following him wherever he went, never letting him go.
All because of some Milo.
#marvel#marvel men#spiderman#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel spiderverse#miguel x reader#spider-man 2099#miguel#oscar issac fic
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trouble, j. miller | chapter two
mob!joel miller x fem!reader
chapter summary: your first shift at apocalypse lives up to the standards that you hoped for, and you work your charm on everyone there. money and validation never hurt anyone, and you definitely didn’t mind it.
chapter warnings: alcohol consumption, food consumption, uh oh curse words, joel miller being a “power to the people, stick it to the man” man (we believe in that over on this blog), reader & dancers shake ass bc they can, google translated spanish 😍, no beta again, AND DID SOMEONE SAY JAVIER PEÑA!?
word count: 2274
also can u guys start asking me to be on this taglist by either bribing me or threatening me idk i think i’d just like to see “add me to your taglist or i’m gonna be under your bed at 9:03pm”
(series masterlist)
when you step outside of the changing room, you head over to the snack drawers. you may have eaten before you arrived, but turning down free food was a sin in your eyes. you settle on a pack of hot cheetos and some trolli candy before sitting in a high chair and allowing lucy to do your makeup.
lucy was a lovely woman. she told you the basics about her, how she’s trying to save money so she can buy her first apartment, the name of her cat, etc. and, jesus christ, lucy was good at make up. her shade match was amazing, the blush and contour sculpted your face well. the eye make up was a smoked out black wing, with purple eye glitter on your eyelids. your lips were glossy, pouty, and fucking sexy, if you did say so yourself.
“lucy, i want you to know that if you ever decide to dump your boyfriend, i will be right here waiting for you.” you take another look at yourself in the mirror. “i look so hot i want to fuck myself.”
lucy giggles, and the two of you join adele, who runs you through everything you need to know. when she gets to the hourly pay and tips, your mouth drops in shock. “damn, didn’t realise joel was such a socialist.”
adele and lucy laugh. “baby, he pays everyone here good.”
lucy nods. “dancers get their money from customers and an hourly pay too. he treats us all good, it’s why we all like working here so much.”
you get to know some of the women whilst you’re there. you dance with them, they teach you some moves that are part of their routines, you sing with them. in all honesty, a lot of time hadn’t passed and you felt like you would defend these women with your life.
a knock sounds on the door, and adele opens it to find joel standing there. he beckons you with his hand outstretched. you give your goodbyes to the girls, dramatic as ever but you would miss this moment between you all, even if they did say you could drop by this room any time you want like the other female waiting staff did.
you join joel’s side, his hand going onto your lower back again as he guides you to another room.
“kitchen. head chef is joey,” he points to an elder man with black hair and a slight stubble. he seems mean…you’ll fix that. “that’s quinn,” he points to a woman with blonde hair, “and that’s tim.” you look at tim. tim looks stoned. you think about joining tim to get high on your next shift.
“hi everyone!” you wave at them giddily.
“some guests like food whilst they’re here, ‘s why we have the kitchen. ask for something for yourself and they’ll whip it up for ya’ too.” joel checks his watch, and you don’t know much about watches, but it looks expensive and you unconsciously gulp. he’s rich, damn.
“i’ll take ya’ back up to my office so we can go over some stuff before we open.”
when you get to his office, joel offers for you to take a seat across from his. his chair, however, spins, and you’re much more fascinated by that instead of the boring sofa. you take a seat on the rotating chair and begin to spin on it. joel sighs, shaking his head like he was surprised by your behaviour thus far.
“need to go over the shifts you can do. now, i don’t want ya’ overworkin’ yourself or being too tired for your damn lectures. so tell me what shifts you can do for now, and we can go over the rest later.”
you stop your spinning and look up at him. “i can do weekend shifts at any time. um…i have a nine am lecture on tuesday and thursday. wednesdays i don’t have a lecture until three, and mondays and friday i can work after five.”
“alright, give me your number so i can arrange your shifts. you get paid in cash every week and you’ll collect it from my office at the end of the night.”
you smirk, lifting your index finger up to your lips and biting down on the tip. “my number? joel miller, you flirt! take me to dinner first, please.”
he says your name sternly, a warning. “give me your damn number and get outta here. damn trouble, you are.”
you giggle, writing down your number on a piece of paper and giving it to him, and taking an ipad that carries the menu on it, sauntering out of his office and heading back to the dancer’s room.
——
at nine pm, the club doors open and you have your first group sat in one of the v.i.p. booths. a woman orders a sex on the beach, and the other orders a martini. you take the order down to the bar to gather the drinks and meet the bartender.
he introduced himself as javier, shaking your hand and kissing it gently, making you giggle. you knew you were going to get along with him very well.
as you wait for the drinks, one of the dancers comes over and talks to you. chelsea, her name is. a real blonde bombshell who you think would’ve been amazing in the barbie movie. she’s got a bubbly personality and a cute laugh. she tells you that she attends the same college as you, studying chemistry and physics.
you’re cut off when javier places your drinks on a tray and passes it to you. you give a little wave to chelsea as she is called to a booth to entertain the men.
“don’t be a stranger, mi amor.” javier calls out to you, and you giggle.
“and miss out on you? never!” you shout over your shoulder.
as you walk through the v.i.p. floor, you spot some of the girls and give your greetings to them, winking and grinning as they walk by. you make it back to the table and place the drinks down in front of the two women, and you gasp at them both.
“i just noticed your make up, holy shit! you girls are stunning.” your customer service skills deserves an award, and you’re forever thankful that you’re a massive extrovert and can get away with half the shit that comes out of your mouth.
the girls give their thanks to you, complimenting you back and you shrug them off. you were getting tipped tonight whether they liked it or not. you were hellbent on winning everyone over.
it’s when you’re putting in an eighth round of drinks that you feel a hand on your lower back yet again. you turn your head to see joel, looking down at you.
“need you in booth five.”
“alright, just gotta get these drinks from javi and some orders from the kitchen and i’ll be with you.” you smile at him, and joel walks away back to the booth.
you take your drinks from javi, and he doesn’t forget to give you some pet names in spanish you’ll be sure to google later, and you head back to one of the private rooms. you see a woman by the name of destiny dancing on a small stage with a pole as you give the men their drinks. she winks at you and you return it.
you place the drinks down in front of the men, taking your tray as you lean down and whisper to the closest one to you. “i’ll be back with your food, sir.”
and you return within five minutes, having won over the entire kitchen staff with your undeniable charm. you arrive with two large plates of nachos that the three men share between themselves. one of them slips you a hundred dollar bill, and you blow a kiss his way as you leave the private room.
men were too easy sometimes.
you enter the soundproof glass door of booth five, stepping in and pulling out your tablet. “any drinks i can get for you guys?”
a bald headed man orders a jack and coke, one with a skin fade orders a budweiser and you had to do a subtle double take on him because men in their thirties have skin fades? huh, you learn something new everyday. you look at joel and he shakes his head. “i’m alright, darlin’.”
you smile at him, placing the orders through on the tablet. “i’ll be back soon. let me know if you need anything else.”
as you walk up to the bar, you smile at javi. “oh, my beautiful husband. how i’ve missed you.”
javi looks at you and smirks. “ah, mi pequeña esposa, you’re back. what drinks do you need?” {my little wife}
“jack and coke and a budweiser.” you respond, resting your arms flat on the bartop and placing your head on it as you watch jack make the drinks, your tablet sat right next to you. “javi, what’s the weirdest drink you’ve had someone order?”
“bloody mary with passion fruit liquor.” he grimaces, as do you. what kind of sick fucks were drinking bloody mary’s anyway? and you can make a bloody mary worse? ew.
“i wanna see a drink named after me on this menu one day.” you take the drinks from him as he chuckles.
walking back to the booth, you balance the tray on one hand whilst the other opens the glass door. you place the drinks down in front of the two men, giving them sultry looks as you do.
you were going home with benjamin franklin tonight. you were determined.
as you stand back up and move closer to joel’s seat, you could feel his eyes on you, and when you looked at him, he seemed to be hiding back a smirk, picking up on your games. and it works, as both men slip you a few hundred dollar bills that you tuck under the strap of your bra to stash away later.
“anything else i can get for you gentleman tonight?” when they respond with a ‘no’, you feel a light tap on your thigh. brown eyes meeting yours, he gestures for you to come closer, and you bend down so his mouth is next to your ear.
“little shit.” he whispers, and you chuckle, standing back up to your full height and leaving the booth.
the only time you return to joel’s booth is to take away cups and refill drinks. you don’t hear much of the conversation that happens because, quite frankly, you don’t care. the bald guy and the one with the skin fade keep slipping you bills and that’s enough to buy your silence and curiosity.
you return to some of the private rooms, getting drinks for guests and dancers, but during the final moments of your shift, you’re sat at the bar talking to javier. you learn that he’s been friends with joel since high school. they’re practically brothers, and although they weren’t related, they do look alike…
“shithead.” joel’s voice calls out, and you can only assume he’s referring to you due to the choice in nickname.
“that better be meant as an endearment or i will be snitching to my pops.” you say as you walk over, blowing javi a kiss as a means of goodbye. “he may be in his sixties but he can still put a crow bar to use.”
joel rolls his eyes and guides you back to the dancer’s room. you open the door halfway before he decides to speak: “wait around here for a bit and i’ll come get you. i’ll be taking you home so make sure you’ve got everything.”
you pout playfully. “well, aren’t you just a sweetheart.” and your words cause him to roll his eyes again.
“get in there, ya’ little shit.” and he gently pushes you in.
for the next two hours, you and the girls spend your time dancing to some 2000’s r&b. you and chelsea end up whining on each other, and you all collapse by the time ‘smack that’ has finished, giggling away among yourselves as adele is highly entertained by your energy.
a knock at the door sounds, and you can tell it’s joel. you grab the clothes you wore before your shift started, and when you open it, joel is stood there carrying your bag.
“ya’ got everything?”
“you sound like a divorced dad who has joint custody over his daughter. yes, i have everything.” joel sighs at your comment, rubbing the space between his eyebrows which causes you to giggle.
“bye guys!” you wave goodbye to everyone as you and joel leave the building. he unlocks his black porsche and you hop in the front, shivering slightly at how cold it was.
joel notices this, turning on the heated seats as he drives you home to your grandparents. when you’re outside your house, joel stops you from getting out. “i’ll text you your shifts. my number is strictly for work.”
“got it, text you whenever i want. bye joel!” you shout, running out of the car and unlocking your front door, heading straight to your bedroom so you can take off your make up and finally be comfortable.
you fail to notice how joel’s car doesn’t drive away until he sees you’ve entered the house, and that you safely got to your room when your bedroom light turns on. you don’t see how he smiled at your little comment, shaking his head as he drives away.
oh, you were trouble, alright.
____
a/n: reader tormenting joel and him just tolerating it is my ideal relationship
taglist (if you want to be added, pls let me know!! & if your name is in bold, i couldn’t find your account :()
@dugiioh @amyispxnk @skysmiller @alyhull @noisynightmarepoetry @elliaze @dendulinka6 @zliteraturehoe @atyourmerci @al33naaa @mermaidgirl30 @lulawantmula @nana90azevedo @endlessthxxghts @getitoutofmymind @you-taste-so-sweet @blazeflays @iveseenstrangerthings50 @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @aquanatalie @katw474 @ludwigxii-blog @eloquentdreamer @kyloispunk @txmentor @din-jarring @daddysmilf0123 @sofiparallel @dunkinzjm @runningmom94 @ashhlsstuff @moel-jiller @isimpforfictionalmen @drewharrisonwriter @stormseyer @rodriguez31 @elliesswearjar @vvitchesh3x @joeldjarin @untamedheart81 @ellishamae25 @pedropascalfan221 @mellymbee @pedritosgfreal @yassspose @casa-boiardi
#joel miller x reader#joel miller fluff#joel miller x you#the last of us#joel miller series#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller au#joel miller smut#joel miller angst#joel x reader#mob!joel#mob boss!joel
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Hii I’ve been waiting for a blog I like to ask and I really adore your writing!!
I keep thinking about coriolanus x reader set before the reaping and the reader is being sent to the districts (maybe as a punishment from the plinths for “filling sejanus’ head with rebel ideas” or smth) but anything works!! 🩷
awe, thank you so much, sweet anon! i am honored :). i hope i understood what you wanted, and wrote it to your standards. enjoy, xoxo.
dark paradise.
(academy!coriolanus x fem!reader)
summary: she may be a rebel at heart, but only one man can tame her.
cw: discussion of arranged marriage, sweet!coryo (i love writing him like that i’m sorry!), soft sex, oral (m receiving), cuddling, pet names, talking bad about the plinths, lmk if i missed anything.
“Me? To District Two? Why? What did I do?” You interrogate the peacekeeper who had pulled you out class, mid lesson.
“Orders of a Mr. Strabo Plinth. Says here you ‘filled my son’s head of anti-Capitol propaganda’. Enough grounds to see you removed from the Capitol, I believe.”
You couldn’t believe it. You hadn’t told Sejanus anything he didn’t already believe, you merely agreed with him. The Hunger Games were awful, and cruel. You knew enough about the world before Panem, and that in the country that existed before Panem, cruel and unusual punishment was against the country’s rules. Why wouldn’t that be the case in Panem?
“What? No I didn’t! Please, believe me.” You begged, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. You couldn’t leave the Capitol, it was your home, and had been your family’s home for years. You couldn't move to the districts, you wouldn't survive.
Your family had more than enough money and influence, but not as much as the Plinths. At this moment, you regretted befriending Sejanus. Sure, he was a sweet boy, but now his father was using you as a scapegoat to explain his son's inability to conform to Capitol standards and beliefs. All for simply agreeing with one of Sej's opinions.
You thought, for a moment, that this was it. You would never see the Capitol, or anyone in it, ever again, for the crime of having an opinion. You were a top student at the academy, set to be in the running for the Plinth Prize. How could they just kick you out of your home? You felt faint, overwhelmed with emotions, unsure of what to do, or even how to react.
"What's going on?" A voice interrupts your thoughts, and you let out a sigh of relief in recognition of the voice. Coriolanus Snow. He could get you out of this, he could easily explain that Sejanus was the rebel, not you. His family had more power and influence than the Plinths did, as they weren't from the districts.
"Miss Y/L/N here is about to be transported to District Two. She's a rebel. She's been filling Sejanus Plinth's head with anti-Capitol ideals, which Strabo isn't very pleased with. His son was supposed to make the Capitol his home, not turn against it." The peacekeeper explained to Coriolanus, and Coriolanus looked like he was in utter disbelief.
"Y/N?" Coriolanus spat out, "A rebel? Unlikely. If anybody is filling anyone's head with anti-Capitol ideals, it's Sejanus. Not Y/N." He states to the peacekeeper, hoping that he will believe the heir of the mighty house of Snow over district scum. The Plinths would never be Capitol, not really.
"Is that so?" The peacekeeper responds, "How is Miss Y/L/N not a rebel? Is there anything tying her to the Capitol, other than her family? Has she agreed to be married into a family of status?"
You couldn't believe that simply agreeing to be married into a family of status could keep you in the Capitol. That really couldn't prove anything, right?
"Yes, she is set to be married to me, upon our graduation from the Academy." You almost gasped in shock, not thinking that Coriolanus would come to your defense, lying for you in order to keep you in the Capitol. You held the gasp in though, and simply nodded your head.
"I am in love with him, sir. I wouldn't dare leave the Capitol, or say anything negative about it, when I have a man like Coriolanus to continue to show me the good that lies in the Capitol." You explain, stepping back to stand side by side with Coriolanus. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his side, rubbing his fingers soothingly on your side.
"How could you insinuate that my future wife is anti-Capitol? That is simply preposterous." Snow spits out, rolling his eyes before continuing, "I would never marry a woman that was anti-Capitol. I wouldn't taint my future heir's blood with someone that stood against everything that I believe in. This is absurd."
Coriolanus made a very strong case for you, leaving very little room for the peacekeeper to argue. You knew you had to go along with his lie, and keep up the act, in order to save your place in Capitol society. You lean up, and press a light kiss to Coriolanus' cheek, smiling sweetly once you pull away.
"I see, I will relay this information to my superiors. In the mean time, Miss Y/L/N is to stay at your manor, Mister Snow. There will be a trial, you will be called to testify on Miss Y/L/N's character, and her personal ties to you. I am going to dismiss you both from classes for the rest of the day, and I will be by tomorrow to collect you both." The peacekeeper grunts, turning on his heel, leaving you and Coriolanus standing in the empty hallway.
"I cannot believe you would lie for me like that, Snow." You whisper to him, and he grins at you.
"Well, Y/N, I have always had an infatuation with you, as you know," You roll your eyes at him, knowing of the crush Snow harbored on you as children. "And I could not let that district scum Plinth take you away from me before I even had the opportunity to have you." He explains, and you blush in response to his words. You couldn't believe that he still, after all this time, was interested in you. You knew you were beautiful, sure, but not nearly as gorgeous as the other girls Coriolanus spent time with, like Clemensia, Livia, or Arachne.
"You... you want me?" You ask cautiously, still in shock of his confession.
"Yes, you foolish girl. I realize I have not made my true interest in you more pronounced in the past, but I was just thinking of bringing my proposal to your father. What I was telling the peacekeeper wasn't all lies, I want you to be my future wife." Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head, not expecting a full on love confession from Coriolanus.
"Oh, Coryo." You whisper, looking directly into his eyes. You have always thought his eyes were one of his best features, and up close, you couldn't deny it. "I would love to be your wife." You smile at him sweetly, and you swear there is a blush on his cheeks, though you could never get him to admit to that.
"Really?" He asks, and you laugh, nodding. He then ducks his head, meeting your lips with a hesitant kiss. You press your lips back against his, hard, and he groans. You reach yours arms up, wrapping them lightly around his neck. You pull back for air, and press your forehead against his.
"I think we should go back to your apartment, so I can thank you. And show you that I am serious about wanting to become your wife." You tell him, and he groans again, thinking about all of the ways you could potentially thank him. You peck his lips once more, before he pulls away, gently guiding you to follow him.
As you both make the walk to the Snow's apartment, you talk about everything and anything, getting to know each other better. You both were serious, about wanting to marry each other, and if you were to marry, you should at least semi-court beforehand. And that involved a lot of getting to know each other: mind, body, and soul.
As he unlocked the door to the penthouse, you were slightly surprised to not see a fancy apartment. Rather, you saw a ramshackle place, that you could tell once held glory. You glanced at Coriolanus, who looked ashamed. You would never judge him, or his family's true financial situation, and you wanted to voice that to him. You didn't care that the Snows weren't as rich as they were before the war, all you cared about was Coriolanus. Besides, you could easily afford to pay for your future wedding, as well as help the Snow family out.
"Y/N..." Was all that Coriolanus was able to get out, before you started talking.
"Don't even bother, Coryo. I don't care that your family doesn't have as much money as it did before the war. I don't care at all about money. I know what I feel for you, and no amount of money that you have will change my feelings. Besides," You stop, worried that you may accidentally offend him with your offer, before continuing, "I could afford to pay for our wedding, and more, with all of my own money. You won't have to worry about a thing, darling. I could even help your family. I know that your cousin is a talented seamstress, and deserves more than what she has."
You see Coriolanus' jaw fall slack, before he cracks a smile you hadn't seen in years. It was beautiful, it was radiant, it was so Coryo, and you loved it.
"Really? You mean that, Y/N? You are not messing with me, are you?" He questions, worried that you did not mean a word you just told him, that you were simply toying with his heart.
"No, Coriolanus," You grab his hands in your small hands, yours quickly becoming engulfed by his large hands as he squeezes gently, "I am not messing with you. My father has a stupid amount of money, and I am his only child. I want to use the money I have for good. And helping your family is the good." You explain, wanting him to fully believe you. You would spend all of your allowance on him, if he wanted it. You had more than enough things that you knew he and his family merely wished for.
"Oh, darling. You are the sweetest woman in all of the Capitol, and you are all mine. Mine." He responds to your declaration, before leading you further into the apartment, and into his bedroom.
"All yours." You whisper, meeting his eyes. They were shining with unshed tears and love. You had never seen Coriolanus as a kind, loving man, as he was very guarded and reserved at the academy, only speaking when spoken to. However, you were so thankful that he trusted you enough to show that side of him, and it made your heart race.
He smiled at you once more, before speaking. "I remember you promising to thank me, and show me how you really feel about becoming mine, my darling." You knew that he wouldn't forget that you said that, and you were more than happy to show him how you cared for him.
You dropped to your knees in front of him, quickly unbuttoning his school uniform, and yanking the slacks down with the boxers he wore underneath. You gasped in shock at the size of his cock as it sprung up, slapping his stomach. He unbuttoned his top, quickly discarding in on the floor next to his bottoms, leaving him totally exposed for you, whilst you were still fully clothed. It felt powerful, him bare before you had everything on. He was surrendering himself to you, and you wanted to show your appreciation.
You peppered a few kisses to his thighs, before running your tongue up the entire length of his shaft. He was so long, so thick, you weren't entirely sure you would be able to fit him in your mouth. You had experience, sure, but you had never been with someone as large as Coriolanus.
He let out a low growl at the feeling of you tracing the vein that ran from bottom to top with your tongue, and you rewarded him by licking the slit of his cock, tasting his precome. Normally, the taste of a man's precome disgusted you, but his did not.
You then took the tip in your mouth gently, before hollowing your cheeks. You took him as far in your mouth as far as you could, feeling his cock bump into the back of your throat. You estimated he was about eight inches, with girth. You were one lucky woman, with a man that was far above average. You knew he would be able to pleasure you easily. But right now, all you were focused on was pleasuring him, thanking him for lying for you.
You bobbed your head up and down slowly, grabbing what you couldn't fit in your mouth with one of your hands, matching the bobs of your head with the twists of your wrist as you jerked the base of his dick. He was going crazy above you, letting out animalistic groans, hands fisted in your hair, gently tugging, as your worked your mouth over his cock.
You could tell he was close, by how loud his grunts got, and the way the hands tangled in your hair were pulling harder. You doubled down your efforts, moving your head up and down faster, making sure your hand was setting the same pace.
"Darling, I am so close. I am going to come down your throat." He warned you, panting. You didn't respond, continuing your efforts. You wanted him to come in your mouth, to truly thank him for being a kind man, at least a kind man to you. He came with a grunt, seed trickling in your throat, you swallowing it quickly.
Once he was done, you pulled off his cock, smiling sweetly up at him. He gently helped you onto your feet, making sure you were stable enough to stand after being on your knees.
"Thank you, my sweet." He told you earnestly, detangling the knots he had made in your hair with his gently with his fingers. You moaned at the sensation, and you could see his eyes turn dark at the sound you made.
He stopped running his fingers through your hair, instead setting his hands on your ass, pulling you to kiss him. The kiss was passionate, and you felt yourself beginning to dampen your panties. You pulled away from the embrace, panting heavily. You attempted to begin unbuttoning you uniform, but Coriolanus pushed your hands away.
"I want to undress you, darling. That's my job, from now on." He told you, removing both your top and bottoms, leaving you in your black, lacy bra and underwear. He groans at the sight of your breasts held up delicately in the bra, and hardens again instantly.
"May I?" He asks, his hands slipping to the clasp of your bra, waiting for your approval. When you nod, he unhooks it, gently pulling the straps down your arms, and tossing it somewhere you don't see.
Coriolanus lets out a grunt at the sight of your pretty breasts, bare for him. He kneads one experimentally, and you let out a noise of satisfaction. He smirks at your reaction, before stopping the ministration entirely. Instead, he sweeps you up, into his arms, carrying you over to his bed, gently settling you down in the center of it.
Clambering onto the bed next to you, he slips his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, meeting your eyes, searching for approval to remove them. When you nodded with a smile, he pulls them down your legs. Once they are fully removed, he spreads your thighs apart, revealing your glistening cunt to him.
He groans at the sight, and gently sweeps a finger through your folds, gathering your slick on the digit. He pops the digit into his mouth, making a noise of pleasure at the taste of you. That makes you gush a little more, pleased that Coriolanus likes the way you taste.
"Please, Coryo." You plead, "Take me. I'm yours. Please." You see him think for a moment, before climbing over top of you, muscular forearms holding him from crushing you with his weight.
"Oh darling, you are all mine. I can't wait to feel my tight little pussy clenching for me. Mine." He whispers hotly in your ear.
You grab his cock, pumping it a few times, then position the head at your entrance for him, and meet his eyes. He thrusts in, harder than you expected, immediately bumping into your cervix. You both let out noises of pleasure, overwhelmed with the feeling of one another. He begins thrusting rapidly, grunting at your slick coating his cock.
You were squeezing him like a vice, and he didn't want to embarrass himself by coming too quickly, before you could even meet your own end. He angled his hips, and slammed directly into the spot deep inside of you that had you seeing stars. You screamed, rapidly approaching your orgasm at the feeling of his dick stretching you out, slamming into your g-spot roughly.
Reaching a hand down your body, you rubbed at your clit roughly, and you feel your peak approaching. "Coryo!" You moan, "I'm so close. I need to come."
"I am close as well, my sweet. I promise, I will make you feel oh so good. Come for me" He smirks, continuing to pound into your tight heat.
"Oh! Coryo!" You scream, coming undone on his cock, your spend quickly forming a frothy circle around his dick as he continued driving into you, attempting to reach his own end.
"Please, come inside." You whimper out, and that was all he needed, spurting deep inside of you. You begin to feel faint from the overstimulation, but you fight it, and Coriolanus pulls out of you gently, the mix of your spend and his spilling out, onto your thighs and onto the bed sheets.
He climbed off of you, rolling you onto your side, before pulling you to his close, your back to his chest. You were both breathing heavily, and laid in silence for several minutes, until your breathing returned to normal.
"That was a perfect thank you, my future wife." Coriolanus whispers into your ear as you cuddle, basking in the after glow of your activities.
"I'm glad, my future husband. Thank you for everything you said today, Coryo. I mean it. I would probably be on the train right now, going to district two, if it wasn't for you, and your intelligent brain." You say, pressing back closer to him.
"It was no problem, my sweet. I knew I couldn't let that Plinth boy take you away from me, because of his own stupidity. That isn't your fault, and trust me when I say, the Plinth family will be dealt with." He tells you, eyes narrowing in anger.
"It's alright, Coryo." You attempt to soothe him, turning slightly to press a kiss to his sweaty chest, and he grunts back at you. "I'm still here, with you, my darling. There is nothing to deal with, I promise."
"He tried to take you from me. He knew I liked you, and lied to his father, to get rid of you. He thought by getting rid of you, he could get to me, without another in the way." Coriolanus tells you, and you gasp in shock. You didn't want to believe the words that were just spoken, but it wouldn't surprise you.
You knew Sejanus wanted more of Coriolanus' friendship than he had, and it didn't surprise you that he thought you were in the way of that. Sejanus was friends with both of you, or so you thought. He knew that his one best friend liked his other friend, and so he sought to destroy it. How truly awful.
"Oh, Coriolanus. I wish you had just told me that you liked me, rather than keep it a secret. Maybe this wouldn't have had to happen like this." You tell him, reaching a hand up to ruffle his curls. "I'm just glad you were there today, and defended me. I am no rebel, you know that." You giggled, continuing to run your fingers through his curls.
"You are a rebel, you are my rebel." He tells you, leaning into your touch. You blush at his words, before letting out another giggle.
You may not be the anti-Capitol rebel that the Plinths tried to pin you as, but you were a rebel in the way you loved Coriolanus Snow without a care in the world, money be damned. And that rebellious love that Coriolanus was able to tame was the only thing that mattered.
©keeplcving 2024. please let me know what you think, and feel free to send me requests! :) i’d love to write more of what y’all would like to see!!
#coriolanus fanfiction#coriolanus smut#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow fic#coriolanus x you#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x y/n
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These are also very classic but I feel like they're a little more well known. If you managed to miss it, Bones Straining is THE fic to read, followed closely by Reach Out. Also, forgot about this ficlet if you're up for a tiny bit of angst.
The Time Traveler’s Prerogative | 9.2K | Explicit
After the events of “117”, Derek doesn’t magically transform back into his twenty-five-year-old body. Instead, he’s stuck as a sixteen-year-old for an unknown amount of time. So the pack has to learn to deal with it.
Reach Out | 20.2K | Explicit
In Which Stiles Falls in Love Twice…With the Same Person
Released (From Behind These Lines) | 15.9K | Explicit
Stiles was the first one. He doesn’t know how it started, what’s wrong with the house to make it like this, but he knows that he’s the first of them. The next one was Boyd, then Lydia, then Erica, and lastly, Isaac. It seems a habit, anyone who ever moves into the house leaves someone behind. But no one’s lived in the house for the last ten years.
Until Derek Hale.
See Me In Hindsight by weathervaanes, wishingonalightningbolt | 19.6K | Explicit
Stiles is 18 when he finds out exactly what’s going on in Beacon Hills. He has a few months left before he goes off to college, has a while to help Scott become the best werewolf he can be - and also to get into Derek Hale’s pants. And his heart.
Bones Straining Under the Weight | 15.6K | Explicit
One of Stiles’ favorite things about life is Derek Hale’s food blog. He never expects to meet the man in person.
JEALOUS ORCHARD, THE SKY IS FALLING | 5.8K
Stiles is away at UCLA for school. It may only be a few hours from Beacon Hills, but Derek still only visits every once in while. Suddenly, every time Derek even talks to Stiles, the boy just can’t help but bring up his new college BFF, Tara. When Derek visits, jealousy strikes. And make up sex ensues.
Can’t Be Saved (Not So Frail) | 16.3K | Explicit
In which Kira is Derek’s ward, Stiles is Scott’s brother, and omega heat cycles are good for everyone.
This Kind of Luxe by horchatita394, weathervaanes, wishingonalightningbolt | 15.1K | Explicit
As they have for almost every US President since the 1910s, the Prime Minister and the royal head of their country pay a visit to the United States after inauguration. Which is why, when President Jonathan Stilinski is elected into office, Queen Talia Hale of Norland plans their trip.
For Love is Not Ours to Command | 18.5K | Explicit
Where Derek's skills at thinking on his feet mean that he and Stiles have to act. For the sake of Stiles' dad, of course, for the sake of the pack. No personal interest interference at all, whatsoever. Right.
Like Heaven Catching Lighting | 41.5K | Explicit
Prince Stiles of Cor has always known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he was never truly going to marry for love. Fighting it has only made it worse. Now, presented with a choice between two children of the Hale family of Ignis, Derek and Cora, he must make the decision to determine who will rule by his side. If only it were that simple.
Sweet Dreams 'til Sunbeams Find You | 9.2K | Mature
But that’s when it happens. Stiles is on a down stroke when Derek opens his mouth against Stiles’ neck and says, “What do you think about having kids?”
Whispers in the Dark | 6.9K | Explicit
Stiles Stilinski would call himself a starving artist except for the simple facts that he is neither starving, nor does he know anything about art (unless you consider a novelist an artist, which Stiles only does sometimes). So when his best friend insists he accompany him to a show in the city, Stiles thinks it will probably be the most boring evening of his life.
Enter Derek.
#sterek fics#sterek#ficrecs#fanfic writers#sterek fandom#author appreciation#author spotlight#weathervaanes
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“multiple posts in support of the lgbtq community”
her LGBTQ “activism” pretty much started and ended with the lover era. she released the musical equivalent of “it’s ok to be gay,” she waited until she was in a blue state on the eras tour to even barely address the anti trans legislation that was being passed in OTHER states (states she had just performed in where her speech would’ve made much more of an impact). and telling people to go vote without specifying who you’re voting for or bringing attention to the important issues is not activism. it’s merely a voting reminder. which is fine, but, y’know, it doesn’t make you an lgbt advocate. which she promised to be as she accepted an award for it.
and despite the fact that she’s reportedly “spending a lot more time” in fuckass missouri to be with travis, she’s yet to say anything about the anti lgbt legislation being passed in that state.
she also went off tumblr because people asked her to talk about BLM and swifties act like it was the cruelest thing in the world to expect of her 🙄 but she made a whole thing in her documentary about wanting to be on the “right side of history.”
and taylor did the black square too so if you’re gonna attack joe for that 💀
and she made some promises on twitter to be “loudly and ferociously anti-racist.” then she went on to date racist pos matty healy… and use ice spice as a shield. AND she also made sure that her publicist let everyone know that the “controversy” surrounding matty’s racism had NOTHING to do with her decision to split from him.
so… yeah.
these same miserable fucking swifties used to praise joe alwyn for speaking out against men abusing their power over women in hollywood but now their whole blogs are basically dedicated hate blogs to him. because he committed the crime of not marrying taylor so now they’ve decided he’s the worst man on the planet. 🙄
meanwhile taylor’s working with rapist directors, hanging out with SA apologists and high-fiving an abuser at football games. her feminism and “advocacy” is limited ONLY to herself and it’s painfully obvious she does not give a shit about anything that doesn’t directly affect her.
also, joe’s name wouldn’t have been added to that ceasefire letter if he didn’t WANT it added. it’s a risk to anyone in the entertainment industry to openly support palestine and no one’s name is going to be “just added” without their consent. signing that ceasefire letter may be bare minimum shit, but it’s still more than anything Miss Americana has said or done regarding this issue, which is absolutely nothing, and you have to ask yourself WHY.
also if you’re upset about people saying that taylor was encouraged to be more political because of joe… idk what to tell you that’s literally a canon event that came straight from taylor’s own mouth.
and it’s not that i think she’d be a trump supporter without joe but… it’s pretty obvious that since they’ve broken up (and even in the year leading up to the breakup) she’s not dared to do anything remotely resembling activism or being “controversial.” if anything she’s just too fucking narcissistic and self-absorbed to care about anything going on in the world, just like her bestie selena.
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pairing: hyunjin x gn reader
genre: angst
word count: ~1.8k
warnings: established relationship, drinking, jealousy, mentions of cheating, use of the word ‘whore’, crying, members choosing sides 😬(kind of)
an: this is a repost from my recently deceased blog hyunjins-orange-slice. may she rest in peace.
masterlist * part 2
You looked at hyunjin, so handsome, his hair sticking to his forehead, a grin on his face as he danced in front of you. The bass was shaking your bones and the lights were flashing as you swayed to the music. The club was packed and you were surrounded by people, your favorites in your immediate vicinity. You all had been drinking— especially Jisung, who was slurring his words, with a very sober Minho hovering around him putting the fear of god in anyone who came to close. You looked at Felix, his smile giving the sun a run for its money, having the time of his life dancing with Changbin. Jeongin and Seungmin were dancing around Chan, poking him and making fun of his ‘old man dance moves’. You took in the moment. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, but you started to get emotional. Not to the point where you were going to start ugly crying in the club, but your heart definitely gave a squeeze. You loved these guys. They were your best friends in the whole world. And you couldn’t love anyone more than you loved your boyfriend, hyunjin. He came up behind you now, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder and swaying with you. He placed a gentle kiss to your neck. You squeezed his arms, pulling them tighter around you. You didn’t think life could get much better than this. And just on time, here comes your bladder to ruin the moment.
You turned around in his arms, kissing his lips quickly. "I’ve got to go to the restroom. I’ll be right back." You said directly into his ear so he could hear you.
"I’ll come with you." He said.
"No, I’ll be fine. I’ll just be a sec." You didn’t want to pull him away from his fun.
He nodded at you and kissed your cheek. You squeezed his hand and turned away, headed in the direction of the bathroom. Pushing through the crowd of people, you found the bathroom, and unfortunately you found the line that stretched from the door. You sighed, and took your place at the back of the line. You pulled your phone out, scrolling social media. The line moved slowly, but eventually you were able to make your way inside and do your business. You washed your hands and left the restroom, headed back to your friends.
"Yn?" You heard a deep voice call from behind you. You turned around to find an old friend from school, who you hadn’t seen in years.
"Hey! Oh my gosh, how are you?" You asked, pulling him into a hug.
"I’m great, thanks. Just got married." He lifted his hand, wiggling his fingers, showing the ring. "My better half is around here somewhere, I think he went to the bathroom." He chuckled.
"That’s amazing! Congratulations!" You bounced up and down on your toes, excited.
"How are things with you?" He asked.
"Fantastic actually. My boyfriend and my friends are out on the floor dancing. I was just making my way back to them."
"Well it was so nice to see you, we should get together for dinner sometime. Maybe a double date." He offered.
"Absolutely!" You pulled your phone out. "Here, give me your number and we will set it up." He put his number in your phone and handed it back. After another quick hug, he went off to find his new husband and you headed back to your friends.
You soon found them in the same spot you left them, but missing a couple. Your boyfriend was gone and so was Chan. You approached Minho, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned quickly, and met your gaze.
"Where’s Jinnie?" You asked, leaning in.
Minho reached out and grabbed a handful of a wandering Jisung’s shirt from behind. He pulled him close. "Stop trying to escape." He told him.
"Dance with me, honey!" Jisung shouted in Minho’s face, dancing sloppily. Minho rolled his eyes and you giggled.
Minho turned back to you. "I saw him walking toward the door, and then Chan followed him a second later. Probably just needed some fresh air."
"I’m going to go find him" you said.
Minho nodded before being violently pulled by Jisung into a dance circle with Felix and Changbin. You laughed at the look on Minho’s face, completely unamused. You knew he had a huge soft spot for Jisung, he was just too good at hiding it.
Leaving them behind, you pushed your way through the crowd, bursting through the front door, cold air meeting your damp sweaty skin. You looked around for the guys. There were a few small groups of people waiting for cabs and a couple loners leaning against the building, smoke rolling from their mouths. You stood on your tiptoes, looking over their heads before finally spotting Hyunjin, sitting on the ground, his back against the building, his forearms resting on his bent knees. Smiling, you made your way over to him.
"Baby, where did you go?" You asked, finally reaching him.
He looked up at you from the ground, and your heart dropped. His cheeks were wet with tears. Your brow furrowed. "Baby-"
He stood up quickly. "Don’t you baby me." He said, pointing at you.
You were confused to say the least. You reached for his hand, but he pulled away quickly before you could touch him. "Jinnie, whats the matter?"
"Like you don’t know. Don’t play dumb, yn." He turned away, his hands running through his hair.
"I don’t know what’s going on." You say, feeling extremely sober now, but nauseated all the same.
He scoffed. "I can’t believe you. I never thought that you would do something like this. How could you cheat on me? Am I not good to you?" His tone sounded sad now. "I know I’m gone a lot for my work, but I thought we were doing okay."
"Cheating on you?" You asked, shocked. "I am not cheating on you."
That only made him angry. "Don’t lie to me!" He yelled. The smokers turned to look in your direction, but hyunjin didn’t notice. Or he didn’t care. "I saw you with him, hugging him, he put his number in your phone, yn! You just give your number to any guy who asks? I didn’t know you were such a whore." He spat.
Your heart shattered into a million pieces. And those pieces poked and cut at your lungs, making it impossible to draw breath. "Excuse me?"
"Just go away, yn." He said, waving his hand and pacing back and forth, looking anywhere but at you.
You were frozen to the spot, tears brimming your eyes about to spill over onto your cheeks. Everyone was staring now. You couldn’t let him get away with this, you felt the need to hurt him as much as he is hurting you. But you didn’t think you could do it. "That guy putting his number in my phone, is a friend of mine from school." You tell him. He scoffs again, still refusing to look at you. "He was excited to tell me that he just got married."
He stopped his pacing and looked at you. He took in your red eyes, your quivering bottom lip and his heart broke. "He gave me his number so we could set up a double date. With me and you and him and his new husband." You said quietly.
Shit, he had fucked up.
"There you are." Chan said, out of breath. "I went inside looking for you, and then Minho said you went out here looking for me and it’s just a mess." You could hear the smile in his voice, but then he saw your face. "Yn what’s wrong?" He asked. And his question tipped you over the edge, tears falling freely now, sobs shaking your chest, legs giving out. Chan caught you, pulling you into his chest. "Hey, hey. Talk to me. What happened?" He asked, rubbing soothing circles on your back.
"Hyung, what’s happening?" You heard Felix ask.
"Hyunjin, why is yn crying?" Changbin added. You could hear the trepidation in his voice, prepared to deal with whoever made you cry.
You cried harder at the mention of his name, holding on to Chan as tight as you could, soaking his shirt.
"Hyunjin?" Chan asked, looking over to him while still holding your shaking body.
You lifted your head and looked into the direction of your boyfriend. Was he even still your boyfriend? You couldn’t see him through your tears, but you would know his outline any day. You could recognize him from his shadow on the ground. He took a wary step toward you.
"Yn.. I’m so sorry." He said, reaching his hand out.
You clung to Chan. You didn’t really want to be touched by anyone at this moment, especially Hyunjin. But you didn’t trust yourself to be able to stand on your own and Chan was supporting your weight. He could feel you grip him tighter and he ever so slightly pulled you away from Hyunjin.
"What did you do?" Minho asked, angry.
"I- I accused her of cheating on me before I knew the whole story. Yn please." He took another step toward you. In response, Chan took a step back (always the protector). "I jumped to conclusions, I’m so sorry. Please, baby, talk to me. I’m sor-"
"Don’t you baby me, hyunjin." You said, quoting him, your voice finding traction through your tears but still sounding watery. "Isn’t that what you said to me? Oh and that I’m a whore?" Jisung let out a gasp somewhere behind you.
Hyunjin’s shoulders slumped, and his head fell. "I’m sorry.." he said quietly.
Felix moved to his side, nervously grabbing Hyunjin by the arm.
"Let’s just go home, yeah?" Chan said, gently. "You can talk it out when your sober and calm." He used his thumbs to wipe the tears from your cheeks. You nodded at him. "Okay, cmon sweetie." He led you down the sidewalk, his arm protectively around your shoulder. Changbin, Minho, and Han followed, the latter pulling out his phone to call a cab.
Felix held Hyunjin as slow tears were falling down his cheeks, watching you walk away from him and knowing it was all his fault. "It’s okay, Jin. You’ll work it out. I’ll help you." Felix whispered.
"Does anyone want to explain what’s happening?" Seungmin said, having just walked out of the club with Jeongin.
"And why are you crying?" Jeongin added.
Felix shook his head, meaning he will tell them later. "Just order us an Uber or something." Felix told him.
🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕
#stray kids#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids angst#hyunjin stray kids#stray kids hyunjin#hyunjin x reader#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin#hyunjin angst#hyunjins orange slice too
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His Little Flame Part 1
Kyojuro Rengoku x Fem!Tsuguko!Reader
Part 2
Description: After the recent passing of the Flower Hashira, Shinobu thinks it would be best for you to train under someone stronger, who is more capable of honing your abilities. You become Rengoku’s tsuguko, practically relearning everything you thought you knew.
CW: Teacher/Student dynamic, pet names (little flame), brief mentions of death, mentions of grief, ANGST, mentions of anxiety and dread, reader has past trauma, survivor’s guilt, mentions of kids and marriage, slow burn romance, eventual smut, fluff, sexual tension, dare I say idiots to lovers?
Please let me know if I missed any warnings.
Minors and Ageless Blogs DNI.
A/N: This started out as porn with no plot and I added a bunch of fluff and story and still haven’t even gotten to the smut. It’s now developed into a three parter at least. This is also what I would consider to be my first actual piece.
Word Count: 3,000+
The past nine months you have been training under the Flame Hashira, Kyojuro Rengoku. You formally trained under the Kocho sisters, who took you in after your village was ransacked by a duo of demons. Your fighting style leaned more offensively compared to theirs. They admired your eagerness to learn and how quickly you picked up on their teachings. You followed Shinobu’s insect breathing style, training with her. After passing the final selection, you worked with the girls at the butterfly mansion, along with your required duties as a slayer. Donning a uniform similar to Kanroji’s, a white haori with yellow butterfly detailing towards the bottom.
After her sister's passing, Shinobu wanted to help push you to become stronger, in a way she wouldn’t be able to. She enlisted the help of a fellow hashira, the flame hashira to be precise. His determination and skill would be a more effective teacher for you.
It was a quiet evening when she first brought up the idea. The two of you were reading books she had just bought, hoping to find easier remedies for the slayers that pass through the halls. The two of you in silence enjoying tea, the only disruption coming from notes being written down.
——
“Say Y/N-san, have you ever thought about learning with another person? Branching off from the butterfly mansion?”
You gently shut the book you were reading, looking up at her with a puzzled look on your face.
“No, I haven't Shinobu-san.”
“I think you’d benefit greatly if you received training with someone else. You have the potential to be a hashira yourself.” She leans up in her chair. “You are limiting yourself by staying here.”
“I’m- I do not understand what you are trying to say.”
“To put it bluntly, it is a waste of everyone’s time. You being here. You have good reflexes and swordsmanship. Someone with higher skills would be able to help you improve your technique and breathing style and that isn’t anyone here unfortunately.”
You leaned back in your chair. Letting her words sink in. Shinobu can come off as abrasive sometimes, but her words ring true. She doesn’t say her words with malice, more so as concern.
“May I ask why you’re bringing this up now?” You ask, meeting her gaze.
“In light of my sister’s passing a few months ago, this is something that I have weighed on my mind. I cannot teach you to be a better swordsman, with you relying heavily on the blade you need someone better trained. I do not wish to force you into my fighting style either. You have been a tremendous help here, but I think it’s time to move forward. For everyone’s benefit.”
“Shinobu-san.” Your voice cracked, tears stinging your eyes. You didn’t want to think about the thought of leaving her, nor the other girls at the butterfly mansion. This had become your home after the demon took your family away.
“I have discussed this matter with some of the hashira and one has agreed to take you on as their tsuguko.”
“Who?” You looked up at her.
“The Flame Hashira, Kyojuro Rengoku.”
You had met the man a handful of times, having come and gone from the butterfly mansion for injuries before. You recall a couple of times when it was you yourself who patched him up. He has a younger brother as well, seeing him in the room a couple times when you walked in to access his brother’s wounds.
You also remember his thunderous voice. He only had one volume. Loud. Though it did not seem purposeful, more like he genuinely thought he was talking normally. And his laugh, you could hear it in every part of the mansion when he was there.
Shinobu informed you that, should you accept, he would be prepared to start training after he finishes his mission in a northern village, a distance from his residence and the butterfly mansion.
——
He had arrived at the butterfly mansion with minor scrapes, which wouldn’t take too long to patch up and Shinobu sent you both on your way.
“Rengoku-san” you bowed, entering the room. You carried with you gauze and an antiseptic to clean his wounds. You felt a nervousness in the pit of your stomach that you had never felt around him before. You placed the tools on the table next to the bed and stood in front of him.
“Rengoku-san, can you unbutton your shirt for me or would that be too painful for you?”
“I can do it Y/L/N-san.” He reaches for the buttons of his shirt, pulling them apart while you prepare the antiseptic.
Small scratches littered his arms, almost like claw marks. Just how close did the demon get to him, you thought, it looks like they wrestled one another.
You noticed that he made no face while you cleaned his wounds. Most slayers you patched up often recoiled at the burning sensation the antiseptic provided.
“That’s how you know it’s working,” you would always say to them.
You hummed quietly, distracting yourself with the task at hand. Choosing to bury your anxiety about leaving until later.
You finished wrapping up his left arm, “and… done,” you exclaimed. “You’re welcome to rest for a bit, and I believe Shinobu-san has prepared a meal for us before departing.”
“Wonderful news.” He smiled, buttoning his shirt back up. “From what I’ve heard you will make a fantastic tsuguko.”
“I promise I will do my best.” You smile at him before bowing and leaving the room.
——
Rengoku’s thundering voice filled the quiet hall as you ate together. His “Umai” and the tale of his latest mission intermixed. The young girls listened intently to his story.
Before you knew it, it was time to leave the place you’ve come to know as home. Shinobu placed a small book in your hands. A small gift from the girls at the butterfly estate she told you. You smiled and held the book close to your chest.
The walk to his estate was a quiet one, but the silence was bearable, calming. There was a burning question you’d been wanting to ask him though.
“Rengoku-san?”
“Yes?” He answers, turning his head towards you.
“Why did you say yes to training me?”
“You have great skill and determination. There is no doubt you won’t become stronger.” He replies.
It’s hard to see yourself as strong whether mentally or physically when the people you want to protect most aren’t able to live on because of your failures.
Rengoku’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.
“We’re here! We will begin training in the morning. Let me show you to your room.” He gestures forward into the abode.
A little boy comes hurtling out of the door, shouting Rengoku’s name, excited to see him.
“My younger brother, Senjuro.” He chuckles. “My father lives here as well, although you'll seldom see him. He prefers to keep to himself.”
Nodding, you follow him into the estate, barely listening as he chats with his younger brother, not wanting to disrupt their conversation.
He slides open the door, gesturing you in.
“This will be your room from now on. I’ll come get you in the morning for our first day of training. Good night. Y/L/N-san.”
“Good Night Rengoku-san.” You bowed.
It took awhile for you to fall asleep that night. The normal hustle and bustle of the butterfly mansion was gone, replaced by the distant chirps of crickets in the night. The first quiet night you had experienced in a long time.
——
When Rengoku said early, he meant beating the sun to its spot in the sky.
The sliding door to your room opens, “Good morning Y/N-san!” His booming voice startling you awake.
Jumping up from your futon, and assuming a defense position. Relaxing when your tired eyes see your master.
“It’s not time for combat training yet, eager one, we will start the day with a warm up jog.”
Warm up jog my ass, you thought. Three miles in and Rengoku shows no signs of stopping. It’s become harder to keep up with him.
When you finally arrive back at the estate your legs feel like jelly. Rengoku, however, looks unfazed.
“Let us eat before we begin the real training.”
——
If you thought the warm up jog was rough, what he had in store for your training was worse.
Five hours in and you haven’t managed to land a single hit on him. Hunched over with your hands on your knees, trying to combat the dizzying feeling in your head.
“Ready to call it a day Y/L/N-san?”
“Not until I manage to land a hit on you.” You move into a fighting stance, planting your feet steady into the ground, the dizzying feeling still present in your body.
He chuckles, “I admire your determination. But that’ll be all for today.”
A look of confusion littered your face, “but sir, I haven’t even succeeded once.”
“And you wouldn’t have. Your attacks were unfocused. The longer we fought, the sloppier your form got.”
He gave you a small pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry little one, that’s why you’re here with me. With your determination you’ll improve in no time.”
——
He was right. The following weeks included a similar schedule. Once the warm-up started becoming easier, he made you run longer. You’ve also managed to become quicker on your feet, and while you still haven’t managed to land a hit on him, you’ve become better at dodging his attacks.
You also accompanied him on his missions, applying your lessons as much as you could. It was during those missions when you noticed how sloppy your attacks could get, how unfocused your breathing got during battle.
You brought those observations into your training periods. You’d sit for hours focused on total concentration breathing. Rengoku right next to you, pointing out the mistakes you were making and gently correcting your posture.
——
It was four months in when you managed to land your first attack on him. Amidst dodging his upper handed swing, you managed to slide behind him and land a blow to his side.
“Nice job little flame!” He exclaimed, using his new nickname for you, now that you’ve made the switch to flame breathing. His hand grasped your shoulder firmly, “but remember one blow does not equal winning.”
He shoves you to the ground in one push, pinning your arms above your head, his knees keeping your legs locked firmly in place.
The women’s uniform you wore often left little to the imagination and being put in this position made you feel more exposed than normal, but you couldn’t manage to wiggle yourself out of his grasp.
“Rengoku-san, that was a dirty play.” You exclaim, trying to desperately free yourself from his grasp.
“Demons don’t play using the same rules as us. Keep your guard up at all times.” His grip tightens as he leans closer to your face. “I’ve won, little flame.”
“You’re right Rengoku-san,” you said, leaning your head up to peck his cheek.
Your unexpected boldness caused Rengoku to loosen his grip, giving you the time to lock your legs around his, shoving him on the dirt. You sat in his lap, legs pressed tightly against both sides, hands holding his down.
You didn’t notice how close your breasts were to his face, or how suggestive the position you’ve put yourself in looks. Too focused on keeping him pinned to the ground.
“Good job little flame. You did well to gain the upper hand against me.”
“And I’ve won? For real this time?”
“Yes little flame, I say you have deserved that win.”
Letting go of his hands, you rest back against his lap, taking a few moments to catch your breath, finally relaxing.
Rengoku, on the other hand, was concentrating with every fiber of his being. Curse that uniform, he thought. Though it’s never bothered him until today. It gave him thoughts he shouldn’t be having about his tsuguko. The one who had entrusted him to train her, not have perverted thoughts about her just from training. The kiss she gave him was just part of her distraction, it meant nothing, just to surprise him.
His arms snuck up your waist before he could even comprehend what he was doing. His firm hands gripped your sides, before he caught himself. You peered down upon him with those pretty eyes, and he tightened his grip.
“Rengoku-san?”
That snapped him out of his impure thoughts, realizing the situation. Trying to play it off, he loosens his grip and tickles your sides.
“Ren— Rengoku! Ah! Please stop!” You begged trying to lean out of his grip, arching your back against him. “I’ll get off! Ah! Just-Just stop!”
He finally lets you go.
You laugh, “You really meant don’t let my guard down at all times. Even with the people I trust most.” You dust yourself off, and extend your hand to help him up, which he accepts.
“I’d say you’re done training for today Y/N-san.” He pats your shoulder before walking off.
Y/N-san? He used my first name. You blushed, wondering what caused him to make the switch.
——
“You’ve almost mastered half of the flame forms. Good work my little flame!” He exclaimed proudly, “This one is tricky at first, let me properly guide you.”
He stood behind you, grabbing your hips and adjusting your stance. He slid your feet in the proper spots using his own, leaning his body against yours slightly. Once your feet were in the proper form, his hands slid up to yours, wrapping his firmly over yours.
Bringing his face close to your ear, he guides your body through the motion of the form.
“Doesn’t that feel more fluid?” He asks you.
“Yes Rengoku-san, it makes a lot more sense now.”
“Good. Again, on your own.” He removes himself from you, watching the determination in your eyes, willing to finally get it right.
And that you did.
“Good job Little Flame, with time your motions will become more relaxed. Let’s practice the motion 100 more times then we eat dinner?”
“Yes sir.” As you planted your feet in the proper stance.
——
You don’t know when you started to harbor feelings for him, but the realization hit that day.
After training all you could think about were his big hands against your hips, the way he leaned into you. He had complete control over your body and you were ready to let him do as he pleased with it.
You sunk your body deeper into the hot springs, trying to ignore the invading thoughts of your master.
Which became harder when he joined you in the hot springs minutes later. You could barely glance at the man opposite to you.
“G-good evening Rengoku-san.” You stutter.
“I see we had similar ideas after our training today.”
“Ah, yes sir. The forms I’ve been learning have been putting a bit of strain on my body. Every time I come here, I feel like it washes the pain away.” You sigh, leaning your head back against the rocks.
He laughs at your statement, then lets silence fills the air. Not the most comfortable kind either.
Both of you feel like saying something, anything, but can’t get the words out. Long minutes pass in the tense air before you decide to get out.
“Good night Rengoku-san. I’ll see you in the morning for our warm-up.” You slide your body out of the springs. Wrapping yourself up as quickly as possible, not feeling his eyes wandering you the entire time.
——
It was nine months in when you started feeling like his proper tsuguko. You felt like you earned your place.
After your warm-up one morning, you both rest in a grassy part of the estate.
“If you’re okay with talking about it, I’d like to ask why you joined the corps?” He asks, laying back against the soft grass.
“I joined in the way most do.” You sigh, pulling your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them. “It was two years ago, I remember it being the first snowfall of the year. I remember being excited, tanding outside in the falling snow. My family and I were walking home when the first flakes fell.”
Rengoku watched your smile fade as you looked into the distance.
“That night two demons invaded my home, the Kocho sisters had arrived not long after. But it was too late. I was the sole survivor from my family.”
You clench your teeth. Your grip on your legs becoming tighter.
“I’m angry that they took innocent people’s lives. My family didn’t do anything wrong. I joined the corps so hopefully I could stop anyone else from feeling the pain I felt during that day.”
“What did your parents do?” He asks, trying to change the subject, not wanting to work you up in anger.
“They ran a small udon shop in the village. It was always bustling with people.” You replied. Kyojuro’s ears perked up hearing that.
“You’ll have to make your family recipes for me one day.”
“I definitely will. You haven’t experienced the best until you’ve tried their recipes. I’ll even teach you how to make them yourself.”
“Switching roles with me, my little flame?”
You laugh and lean back against the soft grass next to him, staring at the sky.
“When I retire, I’m going to open up an udon shop.”
“Already thinking about retirement?” He muses.
“Just a dreamer that’s all.”
“Where do you think you’d be if that night never happened?”
“I probably would’ve been married off by now with at least one kid. I’d have hoped to continue helping my parents with the business.”
Hearing you mention marriage and kids made Kyojuro’s heart burn. He felt jealous? The thought of never having met you hurt. You with another man. He didn’t want to fathom it.
“How about when we both retire we open the shop up together? I can’t let you do all the work yourself, you’ll need a taste tester.” He said, turning his head towards you.
You giggle and playfully push his shoulder.
“That sounds nice. Senjuro can help too! He’s already a great chef. Don’t dare think you’ll only be taste testing though.”
“Yes. That would be wonderful!” He exclaims.
You both look at each other, huge smiles on your faces. Finding yourselves slowly leaning towards one another, eyes closing as your lips meet.
He cups your face gently with one hand, using the other to pull you closer to him. You put your arms around his neck deepening the kiss.
Pulling apart after what felt like ages, you stared into each other's eyes.
The realization of what happened hit you like a train. You felt sick to your stomach, guilty for indulging yourself, allowing that kiss to happen.
You quickly pushed yourself up off the ground. Apologizing profusely for kissing him, overstepping boundaries.
He grabs your hand in an attempt to stop you from leaving, but you manage slip away, rushing off into the estate. Brushing past a confused Senjuro.
To be continued…
#rengoku kyojuro#Rengoku#demon slayer#kny x reader#kny#rengoku smut#rengoku x reader#kyojuro rengoku x reader#kyojuro x reader#rengoku x y/n
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Fanfiction Writing / Reading
Hi everyone, I wanted to make a little post on general fanfiction writing and reading etiquette etc for everyone. For reference I've been writing fanfiction since I was 12, I'm now nearing 23 and I've been on tumblr since 2013. There's links to resources for those that would like them.
-> GENERAL ADVICE
Color Coding Dialogue On Tumblr: While using color can create visual contrast in things like titles or description, using it to color code dialogue can cause problems for those who are neurodivergent or vision impaired. For instance, I have trouble reading things where the dialogue for one character is bright in color. This means I miss out and can't read and support many new writers.
Showing support for your writers: I don't think demanding reblogs is an appropriate response. However, as someone who has been here for a long time, it's important. You can show your support by commenting, liking, reblogging (and reblogging with tags gives brownie points).
Generally : liking will be lost in a sea of likes over time making it harder for you to find that fic again but shows you thought it was good, reblogging shows you enjoyed the fic enough to share it with those on your blog (you can even have a side blog dedicated to fics) and would like to find it again, reblogging with tags or comments says that you enjoyed it enough to share it, push it higher in the tags and that you had thoughts.
This helps motivate writers ! Feel free to send them an anonymous ask if you're shy, expressing that you really enjoyed their work.
Use of italics and bold in works: Italics and bold should be used to indicate stressing or importance of certain words. EX: "no you did it!" vs "no you did it" ! You don't need to italic entire dialogue unless it's in certain situations (flashbacks, memories, whispers, etc)
Plotting & Timing: Plot and timing can be a really useful tool! Understanding what your characters are doing and having the plot move smoothly is important when writing. It prevents gaps and promotes interest. Even some of my works move a little too fast, and it can sometimes cause confusion.
READ, READ, READ: Reading is probably the fastest way to increase and broaden your horizons as an author. It allows you to gain a larger vocabularic range and new metaphors. And it helps you find what could be plot holes and more.
SMUT ; Cum Timing: I've written this before, it can happen but it's unlikely. I'll make a whole post dedicated to.. smut. But for now. Here's some other scenarios and miscellaneous notes:
-> bottom cums really early on, then the top cums later
-> top cums extremely early on, proceeds with oral on bottom
-> top can't get it up (this happens a bit with drugs involved) for a while and gives pleasure to bottom, then stops and gives up on an orgasm
Those are a few of my main, overall tips but I'm going to link you to a bunch of resources, too. I understand more than anyone what it's like being new to this. But one of the biggest pieces advice I'm going to give you is:
Allow your writing to be objectively "bad" at first. It always comes with practice. My first fanfictions I used "~" like it was a goddamn period. It's okay.
-> RESOURCES
"writing resources : words are hard"
"describing feelings, emotions, and tone"
"au prompt list"
"how to write medieval smut"
"starting a new paragraph"
"writing resources: world building"
"writing fight scenes"
"ways to further develop main characters"
There are tons of writing blogs on tumblr. You can send them an ask anonymously if you have any questions and they may respond with some good resources. Being a little more on the accurate side, even if you accidentally fuck up a bit, gives you brownie points a LOT.
Have a nice day OwO !
#fanfiction#fanfiction writing#writing resources#writing#mha#my hero academia#jjk#fairy tail#soul eater#anime#fanfics#ao3#ffn#bts fanfiction#assassination classroom#free!#yuri!!! on ice#slasher community#writing tips#writing prompts#writeblr#creative writing#fandoms#demon slayer#demon slayer fanfiction#naruto fanfiction#sorry for the random tags guys it wont get anywhere without it and it applies to multiple fandoms love u tho#vampire knight#hunter x hunter fanfiction#kimetsu no yaiba
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𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘 III
𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: It’s cute just to hear the taps of the lil’ budgies/parakeet’s when they run. Reminds me of the mini marines.
𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.
TW // None.
Throwing my keys on the end table in the hallway. Squeaks immediately resonated from the wooden floor. Their quick, little pitter patter never failing of having a cute factor to the little warriors of the floor.
“You’re back, already?!” Sharon shouted through the apartment, deafening my ears and worsening my headache from work.
“Uh, yeah?” I mumbled, not wanting to yell across the apartment from one another. Rubbing my forehead in effort to soothe the headache as two, tiny pairs of red visors popped around the right bottom corner of the archway.
A squeak had me looking down at the adorable Atheloca making his way to me with his arms up in the air with Scarab just following behind. My eyes scanning for any unknown injuries that I may not know about while I was gone.
It was rare for me to leave them unattended. Especially with Sharons bad habit with bringing one night stand right after another, but I managed to convince her to not have anyone around the house while I was gone. When I am here? She can have those homeless looking men in her bed for her pleasure... or whatever she's using them for.
Regardless, I couldn't exactly bring them out into the public eye for a day. That one night of Sharon's might have started some gossip about them by now. People would probably put me on their hit list so they can pull some battle arena stuff with the little guys and I'm not looking forward to seeing them battle without will.
Or maybe I was just overthinking things?
Cautiously swiping up the tiny Astarte’s from the ground and into my hands. Their small appearance improved my mood along with their small purrs of greeting. It was nice to have someone to happily great you from work.
“Why so cute?” I cooed at them quietly while I made my way down the hallway and into the living room, carefully patting the little Astartes is my hands as they preened at the attention.
Slowly kneeling down do the hardwood floor. I wondered where the other two were, since those two were the misfits of the warband. Not really so much with Sarvak, but Saveth? Loved to piss off the World Eater.
“Bad day huh?” Sharon asked, watching as I laid myself down onto the cold flooring, Atheloca and Scarab climbing up my arm to snuggle up around my collarbone. Little guys missed me, huh?
"Tiring." I responded, laying my forehead down onto the ground, liking the coldness of it. It was way better than facing the heat of rude customers.
“Well, since you’re back I’ll get going then.” Sharon stated, lifting herself off the couch, bringing her black purse with her.
“Where you going?” I asked, moving my head up to look at her and her skimpy outfit then sighed. Another one?
“Where do you think?” She snapped and I rose my eyebrows at her sudden change of attitude, but didn’t question it.
“Just know, I plan on moving out soon.” I hummed, laying my head back down on the ground.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tonight or tomorrow.” She rushed and slammed the door behind her. It made me worry if she really agreed to our deal for the little Marines.
A tiny call came from my collarbone when another sounded of throughout the apartment. Repeating again and again until a little Night Lord popped out from the door way, dragging something behind him.
“What do you got there, Saveth?” I asked the Night Lord, rising my head up again. Unsettled on how much bigger the carcass was and how many legs it had.
Saveth chirped, and presented his abomination of a kill. Lifting the brown body above him with ease. Fresh blue blood still bleeding from the thing.
“Where do you find this monster from?” I questioned the Night Lord who dropped the body of a spider bigger than him on the floor.
The Night Lord chirps again before pointing to one of the many dark corners of the house, then pointed to me and I internally shivered. That thing was in my room?! No wonder I couldn’t sleep well!
“Thank you from saving me, Saveth.” I praised the little Night Lord. His little chest puffing out in pride, emitting cute little purrs. “That thing was a monster.”
A high-pitched roar interrupted the prideful moment. Quick little taps running across the floorboards as a furious, red Sarvak rounded the corner of the doorway, charging for the Night Lord with unbridled fury to shred him apart.
“Woah there furious warrior.” I said, swiping at the enraged filled Sarvak, carefully pinning his body down on the floor like you would with a kitten. His little armored feet and claws scratching up at me, little growls and hisses being thrown at my offending hand.
I had figured out one day this little World Eater lost his rage faster when he had something or someone to stand against. That he had something to hit all his anger into and exhaust himself. Which was usually just Saveth teasing the hell out of him to exhaustion or Atheloca would stand up against him as a volunteer. Both taking each other’s hits like champs.
Shaking the little Sarvak, I let go of him to let him regain his footing before pinning him back to the ground again. His clawed gauntlets and armored feet desperately trying to dislodge my hold on him as he hissed.
It was like playing with a very volatile cat. He doesn’t like when I manage to scritch him on his chestplate and roars out in rage every time I manage to pin him down and scritch at him. It should be scary, but it was utterly adorable.
Snatching the tiny Sarvak from right underneath his feet. I made sure to carefully nuzzle the back of the World eater, gaining an “anguished” cry as he squirms in my hold.
He growls and snarls at every attempt to escape the hold, but he quite likes this… unrequited attention he suddenly has. It soothes his pain. Was their human a sort of Psyker?
Saveth chitters for some attention too, but Sarvak quickly turns and hisses angrily at the Night Lord. Their human laughing at the display. He is not sharing his capture!
Ignorant Night Lord!
ℕ𝕖𝕩𝕥 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣: 𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘 IV
ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣: 𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘 II
#oneshot#warhammer 40k#space marine husbandry sentience#mini marines 40k#fanfiction#x reader#reader insert#oc: atheloca#death guard#oc: sarvak#world eater#oc: scarab#thousand son#oc: saveth#night lord#I think they are having a war with the spiders
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Pink Scarf - PART 18.2 (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: Sex. SO MUCH ANGST. Medication/drug use/overdose. Dub con (sort of?). References to medical trauma, miscarriage, infertility. Blood. 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: 16.3k (LOLOLOLOLOL)
A/N: Y'ALL, I'M SO SORRY, it's a monstrosity. I couldn't help it. There was just so much to be said while still in E's POV, so that's how we ended up here, over 16k. But we finally learn Elvis' BIG SECRET and experience the mighty fallout from that in his eyes, so hopefully it's worth it. This is my Thanksgiving gift to all of you, but you may want to pace yourselves. I feel like I had to rip my heart out a little bit to really get in E's headspace. Prepare yourselves emotionally. That's all I will say.
A quick note about the pictures...the first is actually from when he bought Graceland in March 1957 and it just works PERFECTLY for the beginning. I couldn't resist the pics from Red West's wedding in 1961, even though I know the timeline and the people don't match but the VIBES, the VIBES my friends, are oh so Jack and Reader's wedding so I just had to include them. The one for 1960 was taken the night of the Rollerdome. *sob*
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. 💜
Speaking of Thanksgiving, I am so FREAKIN' GRATEFUL for every single one of you babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE EXTRAORDINARY which is always evident but especially so when someone tried to steal PS last week and y'all went 'ride or die' for me instantly, without question, getting it taken down in record time. 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!)
(Elvis in March 1957, Graceland)
March 1957
Elvis parks in front of your house, his mind whirling with noise. He’s not exactly sure how he ended up here, but as soon as he’d gotten off that train, he knew he needed something that he couldn’t get from any of the guys or even his mama. So, he finds himself unexpectedly here.
Turning off the car, he seeks any sort of relief from the heartache he feels. He’s been holding it all in since the train stop in New Orleans, the one that sent the world crumbling under his feet, destroying the pretty picture he’d had for the future. But all that is gone now and here he sits, hands tapping on the steering wheel with nervous energy.
He nods to himself, finally leaping out of the car, and then he saunters down the walkway to the front door. The chime of the doorbell can be heard through the door, and he listens carefully, grateful to hear light footsteps from beyond.
When you open the door, it’s like he can breathe again for the first time since the train pulled away in New Orleans. You look surprised to see him, those big eyes of yours widening the slightest before you speak.
“Elvis, you’re home?” you ask with a hint of confusion, but overall, you seem pleased at finding him on your doorstep.
“Just got in, baby,” he says, that boyish smile curving up. He gathers you up into a big bear hug and instantly feels better as he breathes in the unique scent of your shampoo and lingering perfume. A scent that feels like home.
“And you came right here?” you ask, brow furrowing when he pulls away. He notices that you look a bit worn around the edges, darker circles rimming your eyes as if you haven’t been sleeping well.
You’re right to be confused. Of course, he hadn’t planned to see you right away. He’d planned to sweep June off her feet in New Orleans, wanting to show her Graceland immediately, the home he’d thought they’d share together for the rest of their lives. But all that had been dashed as soon as she’d blurted out that she was engaged to another man. Engaged. His June.
“I want to show ya something,” he blurts out instead of saying any of this. “It’s a surprise! Will ya come?” Oh, god, you have to come, he thinks. His heart might shatter if you don’t, though he’s not exactly sure why. You’re not his—you and Jack have been dating for nearly a year—so it’s not as though if you don’t come that it really means anything. Yet, still he hopes. He needs this. He needs to share this moment with someone he cares about.
Despite the fatigue in your eyes, you nod quickly, and then as if you can’t leave the house fast enough, you grab your purse and coat and shut the door behind you without a word.
He smiles gratefully, and relieved, he grabs your hand and practically skips to the car. Once he has you tucked in safely, he runs around the front of the Cadillac, jumps in, and peels away. It’s not too far of a drive, and he yammers on about the last few months he’s been away, the words flying out of him. You nod and ask all the right questions, but he notices that you are pensive, quieter than usual.
His verbal diarrhea halts for long enough for his brain to take into account that you don’t seem your usual self, and he asks, “Are you okay?”
You look down at your hands and then out the window, as if contemplating if and how much to share, which makes him a little nervous. Your fingers twist in your lap.
“Honestly? It’s been a hard few weeks, E,” you finally say, still unable to meet his eyes. “My nana passed last Tuesday.”
He’s mortified that he’d just been going on and on about himself and here you were dealing with such a loss. “Oh, darlin’, I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t know. I know how close you two were,” he says remorsefully, reaching his hand over to clasp one of yours.
You shake your head, sniffling back tears. “It’s okay, you’ve been away. There was no way for you to know. And I keep telling myself that she’s in a better place now, but that doesn’t really help all that much. I guess it still doesn’t seem real.”
He nods, because he can’t seem to think of anything to say that will make any of this better for you. “We can do this another time, baby, if you’re not feeling up to it,” he finally gets out.
“No, no. I need something to do instead of moping around the house. I’m worn from being sad and worrying about the rest of it. No, I’m glad you showed up, E. I can’t wait to see your surprise,” you add quickly, trying for a smile.
“The rest of it? What’re you so worried about, baby?” It’s obvious you don’t expect him to pick up on that because he sees the quick look of panic that flashes over your face at the question, so he’s quick to add, “I mean, you don’t hafta talk ‘bout it if ya don’t wanna, but I can tell somethin’ else is weighin’ on ya.”
“You could say that,” you sigh, raising your eyes to the roof and back down again. The twisting fingers are back. “God knows I haven’t been sleeping, and it’s giving me these terrible headaches.” You pinch the bridge of your nose for respite. “I…well, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to tell you, Elvis, because it’s about Jack, and I really don’t want him to think I’m running around telling everyone our business.”
A warning rush rolls over him at this because he suddenly and very desperately wants to know what has happened with Jack, and that is a dangerous game for all kinds of reasons, many of which he’s not ready to admit to himself.
“I swear and cross my heart I won’t say a word, if you wanna tell me,” he says instead, a little too eagerly, so he quickly adds, “If it’ll help ya feel better and all.”
He forces himself to watch the road and not you, but he can practically hear your mind whirring.
“Oh, fine, but not a word out of you to anyone, Elvis Presley, I mean it. I know how bad you are with secrets,” you glare at him.
“I promise, I promise!” he concedes, crossing his heart. “I swear on my mama!”
“Well, in the midst of all this with Nana, I found out that Jack was dating other women a while back while we were going together. Apparently, I thought we were exclusive, but he didn’t, and well…” you trail off bitterly.
Elvis has to bite his tongue and bite it hard because somehow this wasn’t what he expected, and oh, lord, he knows too much for comfort.
Thankfully, you take this as him listening intently, because you continue, “I know I shouldn’t be too mad at him. I suppose it’s an honest mistake, seeing as maybe we didn’t communicate clearly enough about where we stood with each other. But it was so obvious to me, and I don’t understand how it wasn’t obvious to him. It’s not like I was going around with other guys all the time! I know it was months ago, but damn if it doesn’t really sting. Part of me feels like such an idiot, you know? What else don’t I know about him and what he’s doing? It just makes it hard to trust him, even though he was truthful about it when I asked.” He can sense the conflict in you, as your voice fills and shakes with the emotion of your held-back tears.
His heart is beating fast now, and all he is seemingly able to do is nod furiously, as if agreeing vehemently with all you are saying. The problem is that Elvis is complicit in all this and you have no idea. You have no idea that he was the one who pushed the showgirls onto Jack when he came to visit him in Vegas in November. You have no idea that “dating” didn’t have much to do with it at all. And now he feels altogether shitty for being the one to put Jack in that position in the first place. He’d managed to spread his own unfaithfulness and debauchery right on over to Jack, and now you are the one paying for it.
Shit.
Although, knowing Jack, it’s also possible that there was other dating happening, too. Either way, Elvis knows he’s got to tread real careful here and needs to keep his trap shut.
But Elvis can’t stand that hurt look in your eyes when he dares to take his eyes off the road to glance at you. He hates how angry and sad you look, the blue-black circles under your eyes conveying your distress.
And his emotions feel complicated, too complicated for comfort. He suddenly wonders if he didn’t present Jack with those temptations on purpose because there is a very deep and selfish part of him that desperately wants you to kick Jack to the curb for this, and that terrible, selfish part of him wants you to finally see Elvis in the same way he sees you.
Maybe there’s a reason that things didn’t work out with June, that voice pokes at him hopefully.
Stop that shit right now.
All this is playing through his head and leaving him outwardly silent. He realizes he has to say something, anything, because you are waiting for him to do so.
“I-I’m sorry that happened, ‘specially finding out at the same time as all this with your Nana. W-What are you gonna do about Jack?” he says, trying not to gulp.
He watches your eyes narrow and then he quickly looks back at the road. He can feel you shift in your seat.
“I…well, right now, I wanna pummel his brains out, so I told him I need some space to figure out what I want to do. I just—I thought we…” you trail off dismally. “I don’t want to go through this again,” you add quietly.
Elvis knows you are talking about Ted. Stupid Teddy who stepped out and got Judy Cole knocked up and then left you brokenhearted in his wake. It still pisses him off, even though he knows he’s got no right to judge Ted, not now, not after all the foolin’ around he’s done.
But when it comes to you, he can’t help but be protective. It’s in his bones, the way he wants to take care of you. In fact, he wouldn’t mind punching Jack in the face right about now for hurting you like this. And he’s even more pissed at himself for his part in it all.
Elvis just wants you to be happy and to be with a man who deserves you, and deep down, he doesn’t know if that man is Jack, even though he loves Jack like a brother. But the real problem is he’s not sure if he thinks any man will ever be good enough for you.
But his brain is wary to dwell on the meaning of that, wanting to avoid anything else that feels uncomfortable, so instead, he lets the excitement of showing you his new home overshadow any other unwanted feelings he might be experiencing.
“Okay, baby, we’re almost there, so close your eyes,” he says excitedly, changing the subject abruptly, before pulling up the long drive.
“Alright, Elvis, this better be a big surprise with how hyped up you are,” you chuckle, letting the mood turn by doing as you are told.
“The biggest,” he breathes, sliding to a stop in front of the Colonial mansion. “Don’t open your eyes yet! I’ll come around!”
You wait until you hear the car door open and feel his hand take yours. He gently brings you out of the car to standing, an excited energy vibrating through him.
“Okay, darlin’, open!” he drawls dramatically.
You do, blinking out the early Spring sunlight. He watches your face light up as you take in the architecture.
“Oh my god, Elvis, it’s beautiful,” you say in awe. “Is it yours?”
“Yes, baby, it’ll be all mine very soon. And for Mama and Daddy, of course,” he adds hastily, as if you’d thought he’d abandon his parents.
“Of course,” you smile, looking at him with those pretty, though tired, eyes of yours. “Can we go inside?” you ask.
All he can do is nod excitedly. Elvis takes your hand, pulling you up the steps and past the huge white columns on either side. He can’t unlock the door fast enough, the keys rattling and shaking in his hands. Once inside, he pulls you through the house, mouth running a mile a minute about what he wants to do in each room, how he wants it to look.
Finally, you make it to the top level, the last room. “This is gonna be my bedroom,” he rambles on. “I’m gonna get the biggest bed you’ve ever seen in your life, made special.”
You gently pull your hand out of his, and he watches as you take a small pill bottle out of your purse and pop two of the pills before downing them dry. Aspirin, probably, for the headache you were talking about in the car.
“E, stop a minute,” you say. “This is all amazingly wonderful and beautiful, and I am so excited for you, but…well, what exactly am I doing here?” You look at him with curious and concerned eyes.
“I…uh…I…,” he stammers, unsure of what to say or how to say it, as it’s all been spinning inside for hours and hours. He looks away, unable to meet your eyes. He certainly doesn’t want to put any of his stuff onto you, not now, not after what you told him earlier. His hands fall to his sides, and he shakes them, wiggling his fingers like he does to come down after a show. It doesn’t help. There’s just too much emotion rolling through him all the sudden.
You step to him, first putting your hands on his shoulders, then you run them gently down his arms before grabbing his flailing hands, absorbing some of that wild energy. The feeling still manages to send little electric shocks through him, even after all this time. Only then does he finally still and dare to look at you.
“E, what’s wrong? You let me talk earlier, so why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?” you ask, your eyes searching his, open and concerned. He should’ve known you’d see right through him. Maybe that’s why you’re here, because he knew you’d understand, that you’d be able to tell he wasn’t okay when no one else cared to.
It takes a moment for him to gather his words as his emotions get in the way. Emotions he stoically hid from the guys the rest of the way to Memphis. Emotions he pushed down when he saw his mama because he just couldn’t bear to break her heart yet with the news. God, he’s spent so much time recently learning how to hide everything real about himself in order to become the man everyone wants him to be. But here, now, with you, it all begins to overflow.
“I-I-I told June to meet me in New Orleans. I-I w-w-was gonna bring her back here, to show her w-what I-I wanted to buy…for us,” he says, bouncing on his toes, tears welling and clouding his vision. He hates how it’s tearing him in two to say this.
You squeeze his hands, urging him to continue, and for you, he does.
“But when I-I got there, she was acting so strange. There w-wasn’t much time and, uh, she told me she’s engaged to someone else.” He blinks and the tears run over, finally spilling down his cheeks. Saying it out loud suddenly makes it feel all too real. His chest aches with betrayal, with loss.
You look at him with such care, though you do not look shocked at this news.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, E. I know you how much you loved her,” you say, squeezing his hands again gently.
‘Loved.’ As in past tense.
“Did you know?” he asks suddenly, stepping back, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
You take a conscious deep breath. “No, I didn’t. But she did call me a few times wondering where you were, if you were okay. She said she hadn’t heard from you in months…” you say awkwardly, petering off.
“Aw, shit,” he curses, running a hand through his greased hair. A wave of anger rolls through him, burning him from the inside, but as much as he wants to put it on June and her spiteful engagement, he knows the anger is mostly towards himself. He fucked up. He fucked around. And he’d expected June to just sit back and wait for him while he did it. He didn’t even make the time to call her.
And you know what he’s done. He can see it on your face. He looks down, unable to meet your eyes.
You don’t speak. You don’t lay into him or tell him he’s an asshole, although it might be better if you did. God knows he’s already thinking it. You just look at him with sadness and understanding and forgiveness, even though he doesn’t deserve it.
With that ache in his heart, he finally realizes that he couldn’t have loved June the way he said he did and then leave her hanging like that. But he did love her…at least, he had. They’d had such a beautiful summer together and he was sure he wanted to marry her, once his fame was settled. Three years, he’d told her.
Shit, I didn’t even make it six months, he thinks absently.
And then everything changed almost overnight. His fame exploded. There was Hollywood, then Vegas. And the girls, good god, there were so many beautiful girls who wanted him, needed him, who threw themselves at him. He’d been weak. He hated being alone. He couldn’t help it. It was just sex, he’d told himself, just a way to blow off steam as his world became smaller and smaller and nearly suffocated him. A thousand excuses run through his head, but in the end, it was his choice not to pick up the phone. It was his choice to screw around, to live this life.
It’s no wonder that June moved on, he thinks. I’m a first-rate asshole.
“Y/n, I messed it all up,” Elvis finally chokes out. The sob fully breaks the dam holding him together, the pressures of his fame and the realization hitting him like a truck: he is never going to be able to have that normal life with a wife and kids he’d once dreamed of. His knees buckle under the weight of all of it—his decisions, both good and bad, the fame he doesn’t know what to do with, the unexpected consequences of this privileged but isolating life he’s chosen.
He sinks to his knees, defeated, on the carpet of his future bedroom, the one he’ll probably never share with someone who loves him for who he truly is. Because he isn’t just Elvis Aron Presley anymore—he is “Elvis Presley,” the celebrity, the commodity, the fantasy.
While he relishes in the luxuries of it all, in being able to provide the life his family deserves, a small part of him cannot help but feel like he’s made a deal with the devil. That this talent he has been blessed with will also be the thing that damns him. He is overcome by the feeling that he’ll never know ever again if he is loved for who he really is, or if it is his fame and his image they love. And there is something about that that crushes his soul.
But he can’t say all this to you because it sounds dramatic and indulgent, and he knows there are very few people in this world who’d actually understand. This is his cross to bear.
And yet you still comfort him. You are still here. “Oh, hon, I know. It’s okay, I know,” you say, kneeling down with him.
In the midst of all he’s achieved and gained these past few years, June is the representation of all that he stands to lose, all that he’s already lost. “She was my last chance, y/n. I’m never gonna be able to trust that a woman loves me for me and not for my fame after this. And I screwed it all up,” he says quietly, tears running freely. “I just feel so fucking alone.”
“Oh, that’s not true, Elvis, it’s not,” you say, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’ll find her, I know you will. And you have so many people who love you for just being you, not for the fancy cars or the mansion or the fame. You’ve got your family, you’ve got Jack and your true friends. And you’ve got me.”
The way you say it, so softly, yet so matter-of-fact hits him hard, so hard that his heart stops beating for a moment. If he wasn’t already kneeling, the honest way your tired yet beautiful eyes search his face might knock him right off his feet.
It’s you, it’s you, it’s always been you, he thinks suddenly. This is the feeling he was avoiding in the car. The feeling he’s been avoiding since he watched Jack kiss your cheek in the diner a year ago.
It takes his breath away. You take his breath away, you always have. He’s been enamored with you since you plowed into him all those years ago in the hallway at Humes High.
Suddenly, June is all but forgotten because you reach up, cupping his face in your cold little hands and wipe a tear off his cheek. He cannot help the way his eyelids flutter closed at the sensation of the pad of your thumb dragging softly across his face. His breathing, rapid from his cries is now labored for another reason entirely.
Opening his eyes slowly, he shouldn’t be shocked to see tears in yours, your grief and sorrow, not only for yourself, but for him, too, welling there, as if you are connected to him. In fact, Elvis feels like his brain is short-circuiting because you are too damn close and the tension in the room is suddenly so thick, he feels like he might suffocate.
Every cell in his body feels on fire as you lean in closer and closer until your lips press against his forehead. You’ve never kissed him, not once in all these years, and this alone sends heat rushing through his young body. Then when you kiss his nose, and then one tear-stained cheek, he holds his breath, feeling like he might die from this chaste sensation.
Warning bells explode in his brain because suddenly he wants you more than anything in this world, always has. And now you are so close. This is Jack’s girl, he thinks, and she’s my dear friend. Don’t be an idiot.
But when you lean in to kiss his other cheek, you place your lips alarmingly close to his, his tears wet underneath your soft lips, and his body is on high alert as only a twenty-two-year-old’s could be. His heart flutters as you pull back just enough to look deeply into his eyes, tears shining in your own, and then you lean in once more.
This can’t be happening. This should not be happening, his mind screams, but then your lips are grazing his and all rational thought ceases to exist.
You taste so sweet.
Heat blooms through the ache in his chest, and in his disbelief, he freezes. Part of him wants to devour you whole, but he is terrified that if he moves, he might spook you and he cannot bear that.
His confusion is overridden when your hands, shaking but demanding, pull him closer. Your lips are soft and sure, and he cannot help but be swept away by them. He’s kissed so many girls, too many to count, all over the country, but not one has ever made him feel like this, like his heart is going to leap out of his damn chest.
But this is a betrayal of a monumental kind, for both of you. While he is no stranger to betrayal, he does not want this for you. As much as he wants you with every fiber of his being, he does not want to be the source of your regret or heartache. He’s already done enough in that regard already, though you don’t know it. Mustering up every ounce of his self-control, Elvis pulls out of your kiss.
“Y/n, baby, you don’t want this. I’m no good for you this way,” Elvis says in a hushed tone, his forehead resting against yours. “I-I can’t have you regretting me, I-I-I couldn’t bear it.”
You lean back the slightest bit, and he thinks you might be listening, reconsidering, making him feel mostly dismay but also a little relief. What he does not expect is for you to press your little pointer finger up against his lips, hushing him, as you stare into his eyes. It’s as though your soul is as weary and needy as his and it feels as though you see him, truly see him, which is a new feeling for him. This sends a welcoming shiver down his spine, and he knows that despite every scrap of logic and propriety he is trying to lean on, with you he is powerless.
When your finger drags down his lips, catching on the bottom one, it sends a bolt of pleasure straight to his groin. Yet still he resists (even though he wants more than anything to see where this is going), thinking you might realize your mistake, and this will all be over in an embarrassed, yet still salvageable, flash.
Instead, you very deliberately scoot closer, your knees bumping his on the carpet. You lean in again, your lips grazing his again with a yearning he cannot help but return in kind. It’s barely a kiss, but the intent is there and when you pull up, effectively opening your mouth to him, the way he can feel your warm breath mingling with his own has him struggling to control himself.
You are testing him, testing the waters, hesitant but somehow insistent at the same time. His long lashes flutter closed when your fingers brush his jaw then rake into his perfectly styled hair. But it’s when the tip of your tongue touches his, sending a hot shockwave through him, that he can stand it no longer and closes the gap between your mouths with a longing sigh.
Pressing his pliant lips to your yielding ones, he rolls his tongue softly but firmly against yours, earning him a quiet moan from you. This is like fuel on the fire, finally spurring him into action, and his hands fly to the back of your head, pulling you closer.
If there is one thing besides music that Elvis excels at and loves to do, it’s kissing. He plays with it the same way he plays a crowd, listening to you and adjusting his performance as necessary. The buzzy way it makes him feel, like every nerve is magnetic, is one of the only things in this world that is anything like how it feels for him to perform for an audience. He loves the way it makes him feel.
But kissing you is unlike anything Elvis has experienced before. It’s as though you are tuned to the exact same frequency, finding his rhythm immediately, adapting easily. The usual fumbling of people getting acquainted in this way does not seem to apply to the two of you, the ebb and flow so natural it’s as though you had done this with each other many times before.
But the passion of it stokes a fire that has been denied a long time. Intense heat crashes over him, sending tendrils of warmth through his limbs and deep into his belly. He drinks you in as deep as he can without being desperate, and oh how close he is to being desperate for you. His grief over June melts away the more he tastes you, and he wonders how he ever lived before having the taste of your lips on his.
It's all very dramatic and romantic, which he is both at heart. From just a few kisses, he suddenly knows that if he could kiss you and only you for the rest of his life, he would be a happy man indeed. This surprises him.
But what truly shocks him is when you lean so far into him that it pushes him over, his knees screaming a little, and he falls back into the wall with a thump. He scrambles backwards, maneuvering his long legs into a more comfortable seated position while you don’t even miss a beat or attempt to come up for air. And when you crawl into his lap, hoisting the flowing fabric of your dress up just enough so your warm, bare thighs are straddling his, his heart actually flies right out of his goddamned chest.
Speaking of which, you are currently running your hands down his, pulling his silky shirt up enough to dance your fingertips over his stomach. His breath hitches then hisses at that, his arms involuntarily encompassing you, large hands splaying across your back to draw you ever nearer.
And you go willingly, inching up his lap until you are straddling his hips. When you grind down into his lap, he thinks he might’ve died and gone to heaven, his blue eyes rolling back into his head with a low moan.
He'll admit he’s dreamed of this, fantasized about this, but nothing could truly prepare him for the reality of the way you are making him feel. A trickle of attraction that began six years ago is now a roaring river, and is so, so much more than anything he’s felt before with anyone else.
He doesn’t understand it. He loves women. He always falls in love too fast, enjoying the rapid descent into the madness of it all. There have only been a few that he feels were true, though every girl he’s with, he loves in his own way.
But you are not like any of them, not at all. With you, it has been slow, so gradual sometimes that he didn’t even realize it. A teenage crush turned into friendship, and within that has blossomed a love that he didn’t know he was capable of. It is not until this very instant that he realizes it truly for what it has become. He doesn’t just care for you. He loves you.
He is in love with you.
Fuck.
Realizing this as your hips begin to rock steadily over his crotch is not the best timing. He’s as hard as a rock, fighting both the swell of his physical need for you while wrestling with the emotional needs he’s quickly realizing at the same time.
If he didn’t love you, he might not care if this is just a quick fuck between friends, but he does care. And he’s worried about where this is coming from, likely your overall grief and your anger at Jack. No, he doesn’t like the messiness of that at all.
But another grind of your pelvis into his, coupled with your tongue down his throat has the physical quickly taking over any and all rational thought. He wants you, more than he’s ever wanted anyone. And he desperately wants to give you what you need, which based on the mewls escaping your lips, is a physical release, a connection.
God, he can feel the wet heat of your cunt now through your panties and his pants as you slide over his length, back and forth, again and again. He clings to you as your hands wind through his hair, burying his head in your neck, his lips taking in as much of your skin as he can. He revels in the scent of you, your perfume and your irresistible musk that is permeating the room. He is positively dizzy with it.
You are frantic in his lap now, chasing something he’s not entirely sure you’ve ever had. He knows about Ted, but he highly doubts Ted knew what to do with you. And with Jack, well, he’s not sure how far the two of you have gone, but he can only guess based on Jack’s recent actions and your desperation for no one to know that Ted had popped your cherry that you’ve been trying to be good and pure and wait.
But as you reach for his belt, pawing at him, for the first time in this whole event, he gets the distinct impression that you’re not sure what to do next, only that you are needy for something. And goddamn him, he is willing to give you what you need, but only if you really understand what it is you’re asking for.
“Wait, baby, just…wait,” Elvis pants, stilling your hips with one hand while grabbing the hand at his belt with the other. You whimper a little at the interruption, rolling your hips for emphasis, but despite the groan he can’t help, he’s having none of that.
“Baby, I need to know that you really want this,” he says, brushing your hair off your deliciously pink cheeks, your lips swollen from his kisses. He looks into your eyes, almost getting lost in them and forgetting what he set out to do. “You’re absolutely sure?”
“Yes,” you whisper, and then add, “Elvis, please,” in a begging tone that sets him completely aflame.
“Oh, damn, okay, baby, okay,” he breathes, barely able to contain himself with that. He’s only human, after all. He races to help you with his pants, pulling them over his hips and down his legs in record time, his erection springing free, precum already glistening the tip. You lift up on your knees, you move your panties aside, and touching the silky soft skin of his cock, you help him line up with your entrance. He can’t help but gasp at the feeling of your cool little fingers circling his shaft, losing it a little more when he feels how incredibly soaked you already are.
He can’t believe this is happening. It shouldn’t be happening. But all logic is gone from him, replaced by the sweetness of your mouth and the wetness of your pussy and his desperate need for whatever love you have to give him.
He watches as you bite your lip in concentration, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you try to take him in. You are incredibly tight around the sensitive tip of his cock, and he moans a little at the constriction. That’s when he knows for sure that no one else has touched you like this for a long time. You aren’t ready for him, not yet.
Reaching under your skirt, he deftly finds the delicate little bundle of nerves there and begins to work it ever so gently. He shifts his hips down, his cock regretfully released from your hold on it. Sliding his fingers through your folds (oh, god), he gently slips one finger into your tight heat, then two, allowing you to adjust around him before pumping them in and out. Your eyes go wide and you gasp with the intrusion, but then they flutter closed with a sigh, and then another, and another before your hips begin to rock again.
He watches you in your ecstasy, taking in every delectable reaction he can and committing it to memory. The way your brow scrunches and your mouth falls open into a little O. The feel of your thighs clenching around his hand as he massages and fingers your dripping pussy. Those alluring little breathy moans escaping your lips. Every part of you has him completely mesmerized and he knows it. He knows his mouth is agape and he is moaning softly right along with you. He is so aroused just by watching you, he feels like he could come without you even touching him.
“E, I need more…I need you,” you breathe with your eyes closed and brow concentrated, and oh sweet lord, those might be the best words in the English language with the way they come out of your mouth.
He is utterly unable to deny you this. He can’t even speak, he just pulls his fingers out of you, lifts your hips, and maneuvers his cock back to the place it wants to be most. And you are more ready for him now, your tightness yielding much more easily around the sensitive tip of him.
It’s in that moment, as you sink down ever-so-slowly onto him and he is enveloped by your wet heat, that Elvis realizes he is utterly ruined for any other woman, ever. They cannot and will not ever hold a candle to you. He should’ve known before. He should’ve stopped this while he still could. But as you finally settle in his lap, taking him in completely, your fingers relaxing and your eyes bright and glassy, he knows he is well and truly fucked in every way.
He kisses you deeply again and again, memorizing your mouth, as you begin to raise and lower yourself on his cock. You feel so good, so completely perfect, it’s as if you were made just for him. He is drunk on you, hands wandering your body, finding what makes you keen, and he’s unable to get enough of you.
But you are so needy and ready that unfortunately it doesn’t take very long of you riding him and him playing with your clit for you to begin falling apart at the seams. Based on your surprised gasps, he’s not sure you’ve ever come before, so he does his best to help you get there while holding on to his own release for dear life. You begin to shudder around him, clenching his length, and with a strangled moan you hit your peak. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, the way you are coming undone on top of him, around him, your eyelashes fluttering closed and then popping open, all wild-eyed and rosy cheeked as the hushed sound of his name falls out of your perfect mouth.
He's so fucking enraptured that his orgasm hits harder and faster than expected, chasing yours almost immediately, not giving him time to pull out like he should have. But he can’t bring himself to care because it’s all you. All he’s ever wanted or needed—it’s you.
Oh, sweet Christ, I love you, I love you, I love you, he chants in his mind as he follows you over the edge.
He clings to you, head pressed into your breasts as he pulses hard into your warmth with a grunt, then stays there as he comes down from the high. And then you are both gasping in the silence, and there is an air of disbelief that fills the room that the two of you just did that, together.
This is making love, he realizes suddenly. It must be, considering the incredibly overwhelming feelings he has for you that are pouring through him in unreasonable amounts. He never wants to let you go, not ever.
He pulls back enough to kiss you tenderly, lingering a little too long. There is a sinking, nearly unbearable feeling that this may never happen again, and it threatens to break him, so he pushes it as far away as it will go.
You press your forehead to his, silent, you still enveloping him as he eventually begins to soften inside you. Neither of you rushes to move. He cannot read what you are thinking and that makes him nervous.
“Are you okay?” he finally whispers, his thumb grazing your cheek.
You nod but say nothing.
“Okay, baby.”
You both sit there a while, simmering in what you have done, and he wishes you would say something, say anything at all to let him know what is going on in that head of yours. But you are quiet, unreadable.
Finally, you remove yourself from his lap and stumble your way into the ensuite bathroom to clean up.
Elvis runs a hand down his face, wiping away the mixture of salty tears and sweat that has collected there. He uses his handkerchief to wipe himself off and then puts himself back together. Blissed out in his refraction, he is so full of love for you that he almost can’t stand it. He thought he’d known love before, and perhaps he did, but this realization of love for you is so big that he doesn’t know what to do with it. God, he feels like with you by his side, he could conquer the damn world.
But you’re not his girl.
Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit.
His head falls back onto the wall with a thump.
Somehow, he’s both on top of the world and completely buried by it at the same time. You interrupt his thoughts, coming back in quietly and falling, exhausted, into his arms. He takes off his coat and puts it on top of you both. He can’t help but pull you closer, up into his lap, so your head rests against his chest. This is where you are supposed to be, he can’t help but think.
He knows the two of you need to talk about this. While he has been having his epiphany, he has absolutely no idea what you are thinking. He has no clue if you feel anything even close to what he feels for you. It is possible that all of this was just some sort of revenge on Jack, and that breaks his heart a little. And even if you did do it for that reason, you chose him. You felt safe enough with him to choose him.
But something deep inside him tells him it isn’t just that, not with the way you kissed him, not with the way he felt like his damn soul was connecting with yours. That deep connection he’s always felt to you, it can’t possibly be one-way.
But what if it is? a worried little voice creeps in.
He wants to ask you, but he looks down and sees you passed out on his chest. Fatigue begins to hit him, as he hasn’t slept in over a day.
It’s not long before he, too, falls into an exhausted slumber.
*
He’s not sure how long you sleep, but when he wakes, the sun has moved and the room is nearly dark. Disoriented, it takes a moment for him to realize that it’s you in his arms, and when he remembers why, his cheeks flame with heat.
Oh. Oh.
Drowsy, he rubs his eyes with one hand, trying to wake up. As the memories of your lovemaking resurface, his heart beats faster, and he knows the moment you wake you will both have to face what you’ve done. You’ll have to decide what comes next. And more than anything, the hopeful little voice inside him realizes that he wants to share this all with you—that’s why it is you he brought to Graceland today, and why it was so important to him that you like it.
“Y/n, honey, wake up,” he says quietly, not wanting to shock you awake, but you don’t even stir. He shifts under you, hoping that might get you moving, but you just lie there.
“Hey, baby, it’s time to wake up,” he says at full voice now, but you remain still, too still, and silent.
His heart starts to pound. Something isn’t right.
“Y/n! Honey, I need you to wake up!” He is getting frantic now, his hand gently tapping your face, which feels too cold. But still, you do not wake.
“Fuck. Fuck! Y/n, wake up!” He shakes you. Panic and confusion roll over him as he tries to figure out why you are knocked out. His sleep-addled brain runs through what happened before you both fell asleep, before you made love.
Her headache, he thinks. She took pills for her headache.
He had thought they were aspirin, but as he frantically rummages through her purse, pulling out the little prescription bottle, he reads “Percodan, one tablet every 6 hours for pain and sleep relief” on the label.
Elvis swears you took two tablets, not one, way too much for a girl your size. You hadn’t read the bottle.
Shit.
Having been in Hollywood, he knows that this happens. People overdose from taking these narcotics, usually to get high, but he knows that you did it on accident. Based on how full the bottle is, he’s guessing that you maybe hadn’t even taken the meds before today.
Regardless, he’s not taking any chances with you. There’s no phone hooked up at the house, so with his adrenaline now working overtime, he lifts your unconscious form and quickly carries you to the car. He peals out, driving to Baptist Memorial Hospital as fast as he possibly can.
The those few hours are some of the most terrifying of his life.
He bites every nail down to the quick in that waiting room, pacing there as your family sits, equally worried. He can’t help but feel that they are judging him for letting this happen, even though it was an accident.
He can’t bring himself to call Jack.
Guilt eats away at him, even though he knows he had no idea about the pills, but if he hadn’t fallen asleep, maybe he would’ve realized sooner that something was wrong. Part of him feels like this is punishment for his sins, for what he let happen in the house. He prays and prays to God, harder than he’s ever prayed before.
Please, God, I love her. I can’t lose her. Do what you want to me, just let her be okay.
His prayers work.
You wake up. The doctors say you are going to make a full recovery. His heart nearly explodes with relief.
He offers to stay while your family goes home to get some rest. It is past visiting hours, but being Memphis’ own superstar, the nurses take pity on him and let him stay, as long as he doesn’t keep you awake.
When you finally stir, it’s the middle of the night.
“E—Elvis?” you croak. “What happened? Where am I?”
He sits up straight and leans forward to take your cold little hand in his. “Y/n! Oh, baby, you took too many of your headache pills and I couldn’t wake you up. You scared the hell outta me. You’re in the hospital, but you’re gonna be okay,” he whispers, squeezing your hand.
“Wake me up? Why—why was I asleep?” your brow furrows in confusion.
His heart drops into his stomach, dread like ice in his veins. He doesn’t want to ask, but he knows he must:
“What’s the last thing you remember, honey?”
Obviously still groggy, you close your eyes for a moment to think. “Um, I remember you picked me up and took me to…to your new house,” you say, then your eyes pop open, “You were showing me your beautiful new house, and then my headache got really bad, so I took some of my pills, and then…” You stop, looking at him blankly. “And after that, I don’t remember. You said I fell asleep?”
Oh, God, no. No, no, no. He feels like he’s going to vomit.
The force of his dread hits him like a tsunami as he runs through what happened in his head again. You took the pills first and then he told you about June and then you kissed him.
But you don’t remember. You don’t remember because you were accidentally fucking high.
“Elvis, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” you say.
“Sorry, baby, I-I-I was just really worried about you, is all. I-I guess it’s all kinda hittin’ me at o-once, now that you’re o-o-okay,” he says, unable to keep his voice from shaking, unable to keep from stuttering through the half-truth.
“Please, go get some rest, E. I’ll be fine. I’m so tired, I feel like I could sleep for days…” you say, drowsily, eyes fluttering closed.
“Okay, okay, baby, I will…Get some rest,” he says, kissing you on the top of your head as you drift back into slumber.
In a panicked daze, he manages to make it down the hallway and to the men’s room before his stomach rolls and he is violently sick into the toilet.
Oh, sweet Lord, he took advantage of you. You were drugged and didn’t know what you were doing, and he had sex with you.
He vomits again, tears running down his face.
I didn’t know, I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have ever let it happen if I’d known! I would never hurt her! the reasonable part of his brain cries out.
Shame eats at him from deep inside, cutting him. He deserves it.
How could he do this? How could he let this happen?
I should’ve known. I should’ve known the moment she kissed me that she wasn’t in her right mind.
But he didn’t, and what the hell does that say about him? He’s fucking selfish and he took something from you that you weren’t in your right mind to give.
He dry heaves, wanting desperately to expel his regret but knowing that he never will, not until the day he dies.
And what’s even worse is that he is still left with the fact that he is desperately in love with you. You don’t remember what, up until a few minutes ago, was one of the most amazing moments of his young life. You can’t share that with him. And that makes him feel even more selfish because the last thing he should be thinking of is his own damn feelings.
Sitting there on the cold floor, he tries to convince himself it’s for the best. It’s much less complicated for you this way. For you, there was no betrayal. For you, making love with him can never be a mistake you once made in a moment of anger and desperation. For you, there is only the love of friendship between you two.
Yes, it’s better this way, he thinks. He can carry the burden for both of you. He deserves to.
Because he knows he cannot give you what you need. He cannot be there for you, day in and day out, holding you tight and keeping you safe. Especially not now. Not after what he’s done.
He has to lock this away. You can never know, not ever. He must protect you from this and from his guilt. He knows you wouldn’t be able to look at him if you knew.
Oh, God. Please forgive me.
He can’t stop crying. He has to stop crying because he has to go out there and he has to look fine. He has to be fine, for your sake. You’re alive and going to be okay, and it’s that which he latches onto as a mantra in order to slide into the persona that has made his name.
He manages to make it to the car without losing it again, as the dawn starts to break on another day. He can’t bring himself to go home; he can’t look his mother in the eye right now. So, he drives aimlessly, for hours, his sins eating away at him until he finds himself at the church.
He waits for Reverend Hamill in a pew, his thoughts dark and churning. This is just the straw that broke him, for he knows that since his fame began two years ago, he has fallen so very far. He has been self-centered and vain. He has fornicated and broken hearts and caused pain to those he claimed to love, all in the name of this new life of his. And he’s pushed his friends to do the same. His stupid, selfish actions have had a ripple effect that has completely ruined lives.
Not only had he driven June away and into the arms of another man, he’d played with your life and Jack’s as well. If he hadn’t pushed Jack to cheat, you would never have needed those pills in the first place. You almost died because he didn’t want to be alone in his debauchery, and he knows that some sick part of him pushed Jack to it because he wanted to sabotage your relationship.
Then he realizes that, on top of all that, he did another incredibly selfish and stupid thing. He came inside you, which means that you could be pregnant. And that would ruin you completely, and you wouldn’t even know why, you wouldn’t understand. He would do the right thing, of course, and maybe, someday, you would learn to forgive him, but it would ruin you all in the process.
Oh, Lord. Oh, Jesus.
He thinks he might vomit again.
When the Reverend emerges, he looks surprised to find Elvis sitting there.
“Pastor, I am the most miserable man you’ve ever seen. I am doing the things you taught me not to, and I’m not doing the things you said I should,” he sobs, “Please, please pray for me.”
“Oh, son…come in,” Reverend Hamill says.
Deflated, consumed, and heavy with his guilt and the repercussions of his actions, he follows the pastor into his office. He can’t bring himself to admit what he’s done, to admit how horrible he is. He just cannot get the words out. Instead, he weeps and prays, over and over, the Reverend praying with him.
All he can whimper out is, “Please, please forgive me for my sins. Please.” He’s not sure if he’s asking the minister or God or both. He only knows he cannot live with himself for hurting you, even if you don’t know it.
After over an hour of this, by the grace of God, he finally calms some. His entire body and soul aches.
But he knows what he has to do now. He understands the deal he has made.
It doesn’t matter what he wants or needs. You being okay is all that matters. He has to make sure you’re taken care of. He has to make sure that you are happy.
In the days and weeks and months that follow, Elvis pretends he is having the time of his life, becoming every bit the budding superstar that the country insists that he is now. Sometimes, he even believes it; sometimes, he even forgets. Though every time he sees you, his heart breaks a little more, his love for you permeating him to the core.
But he knows he can’t have you. He knows he doesn’t deserve you.
Instead, he plants seeds in Jack’s ear. “You love her, don’t ya, Jacky Boy? When are ya gonna make an honest woman of her?” He pushes Jack to fully commit to you. He even goes with Jack to buy the ring, though he stops himself from paying for it. Jack has his pride, after all.
Instead, he throws himself into work, grateful for the grueling cycle of touring and recording and appearances and acting. He throws himself into fixing up Graceland for his family, building a life of extravagance that he never could’ve dreamed of.
And, God help him, he starts seeing other girls. He leans into the image of the playboy they all want him to be. He dates and he fucks, thinking that maybe, just maybe, one of these girls will make him forget the perfect way you fit into him, forget the way your face looked when you came undone around him. That maybe one of them will come close to the wonder that is you. That they will help him forget his past sins by cutting new ones. He cannot seem to help but do the sinful things he swore he wouldn’t do, lest he drown in his sorrows, but the girls help keep him from the one thing that is off limits: You.
When Jack finally pops the question in the summer, and you accept immediately, he can barely keep himself together. He convinces himself this is the right thing, that he is happy for the both of you as he stares into the night sky knowing deep in his soul that it should be him. He reminds himself that this is the deal, this is what he wanted, to see you happy and taken care of.
And he will damn himself for your salvation every time.
December 28th, 1957, Graceland
Oh, God, what have I done?
The moment you appear down the aisle, looking ever the most beautiful, blushing bride, every part of him aches with love for you. He’d thought that by giving you the life you dreamed of, the life you needed, that it would be enough to let you go. But as Elvis stands by Jack’s side at the altar, he realizes that no matter what has happened, no matter what he has done, he is always going to love you and it’s never not going to hurt, especially not after this.
Not after the quick look you shoot him as you step up to meet Jack, your pretty, wide eyes full of excitement and emotion. Not after seeing you all in white and wishing to God that it was him marrying you right now. Not after he keeps his peace after the minister asks if there’s a reason these two should not be married.
He somehow manages to keep himself from openly weeping during the ceremony by biting the inside of his cheek repeatedly but still finds himself caught in your radiance more than once and must force himself to look away. During the wedding pictures, he cannot help but maneuver himself close to you to press a lingering kiss to your cheek, to be memorialized for all time on film. The press of his soft lips into your warm cheek sends that tell-tale shiver through him, one that drives in the fact that he still loves you. He gives himself this tiny thing, and no one questions it because they all know you are close friends, and a congratulatory cheek kiss on your wedding day is not strange.
Discretely, he makes sure to let the photographer know he wants copies of the pictures, with the excuse that he is paying for them and wants to make sure they are perfect. This, too, is not questioned, as if it is the most normal thing in the world.
To torture himself even more, he offers Graceland up for the reception. These are his two best friends, after all, now cleaved together in holy matrimony for the rest of their lives. No expense should be spared because they deserve all the happiness in the world.
And they do, he reminds himself throughout the day. They do deserve all the happiness in the world.
At least if you are with Jack, he thinks, he still has you in his life. He can still see those beautiful, wide eyes whenever he wants without question or suspicion.
He clings to this.
Even so, he feels as though he is being sucked into a riptide. It seems fated that his life is going in a much different direction than the newlyweds. The draft notice he received a week ago confirms this, weighing heavy on his heart and feeing like a nail in the coffin of his hopes and dreams.
God is testing him, he thinks. It is all a very clear and stark reminder that where he goes, you cannot follow. He cannot help but feel that God is punishing him for his sins by taking him away from the fame he has just settled into to, taking him from the people he loves and the things he loves to do. He wants to lament that it isn’t fair, but part of him knows that he deserves this, too, for what he’s done and for what he’s done to you.
And perhaps God works in mysterious ways, as while he is loathe to leave his parents and his career and his fans, he cannot help the small part of him that is relieved he doesn’t have to watch you and Jack in your newlywedded bliss for the next two years. It’s the only upshot to this entire disaster.
But he won’t let his sorrow overshadow your big day. With a smile plastered on his face, he gives a charming and loving speech of how wonderful it is to see his two best friends find such happiness with each other. He only stutters once or twice, which comes across as endearing rather than damning. But the thing is, even though he is miserable, he is still happy for you two. He wants more than anything for you to have everything you’ve ever wanted and more, and if that is with Jack, then so be it.
The only time he truly falters is during the dance.
Your little sister (who at 18 is not so little anymore), Rosie, as the Maid of Honor, dances with Jack, while he, the Best Man, dances with you. The moment he touches you, sparks fly through him and down his spine, and he cannot help but pull you in a little too close, even though everyone is looking. His large hand wraps around your smaller one and the other clings to your waist.
The thing is, you do not react to this at all, not outwardly, anyway. You let him hold you and press his cheek against your temple. You let him breathe in your scent and lean into you, as if memorizing everything about you. You let his hands contract, pulling you in closer. You let him lead because it’s like somehow you know, in your soul, that he needs this, even if you’re not exactly sure why.
And for that he is grateful. He is grateful as he takes in every bit of you, committing you to memory, knowing that soon that is all he will have of you. All you will be is a memory, imprinted on his heart, for the rest of time.
When the song comes to an end, he leans back slowly, his eyes searching your face for any recognition, any understanding of his plight, any feelings of your own that might linger in your subconscious. You stare back at him openly for a moment, and for a second he thinks he sees a glimmer of something in your eyes, but then Jack is pulling you away and the moment is gone.
As the party continues into the night, he feels like he is suffocating and escapes upstairs to his room. And as people know not to enter his bedroom without express permission, he feels safe to let out the shaking sob he’s been holding back for hours.
He’s not sure how long he cries before a tap at the door startles him into motion, frantically wiping at his face.
“Bewbie, sweet boy, can I come in? It’s just me,” his mama’s voice echoes through the door.
“Yeah, Mama, come in,” he croaks out, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. While he is relieved that it’s her and not one of the guys, or God forbid, you, he still doesn’t know how he’s going to explain the state he’s in.
His mama comes in quietly, shutting the door quickly behind her. She looks him over and in one fell swoop seems to understand, even though he’s said nothing, even though he’s spent months perfecting his nonchalantness for the world, what is going on.
But a mother knows.
His mama sits next to him on the edge of the bed, putting her arm comfortingly around his broad shoulders. “Oh, my wittle baby, it’s her, isn’t it? Our beautiful y/n. You love her,” she says, less of a question and more stating a fact.
That does him in, the way his secret is exposed so easily by his mama. It terrifies him that she knows him so well, and terrifies him that if she knows this, what else does she know? There’s no point in denying anything, so he curls into her like a child and lets go of it all, the tears streaming once again down his cheeks as his body shakes with quiet sobs.
His mama has always loved you, taking quickly to your genial ways and how you always made time to spend with her. Maybe she suspected something from the start, he doesn’t know, but she doesn’t judge or scold him now.
“H-hurts so bad, Satnin,” he hiccups out. And it does, now that he’s letting it. It feels like his heart is being ripped from his chest.
“I know, baby, I know,” she coos, rubbing his back. He can sense all the questions she wants to ask but doesn’t.
“I-I-I couldn’t…I-I ain’t w-w-what she needs or wants, Mama,” he stutters out. It’s as close as he’s willing to get to telling her the truth.
“It takes a brave man to let the girl he loves marry another, when he knows that’s what she wants, though I can’t say I wish it didn’t work out the other way,” his mama tuts.
“Y-you knew?”
“Course I knew, Bewbie. A mother always knows. To be fair, I been watchin’ the way ya look at that girl for the past few years and it didn’t take much t’put it all together, baby,” she says. “But the question is, does she know?”
He stills and stays silent for a moment, before answering truthfully, “I don’t know, Mama. I don’t think so.”
“Hmm,” she tuts, “I’m gonna trust you had good reason for lettin’ that wonderful girl go without tellin’ her how ya feel?”
His heart constricts, causing him to doubt his choices, but he can’t explain how he nearly killed you with his terrible decisions. He certainly can’t tell his mama that he made love to you when you weren’t yourself, no matter that it was you came on to him. And he knows his mama would balk if he told her how much he doesn’t deserve your love because of his sins.
“It’s better this way, Mama,” he says quietly, sitting up and staring at his hands. “And she’s happy, both she and Jack.”
His mama nods, resigned. “Alright, my sweet baby, puttin’ your friends’ happiness before your own…I know ya made the choice ya thought was best,” she says, wiping his face and pinching his cheeks, “but ya get yourself cleaned up now ‘n go be at least a ‘lil happy for your friends, okay?” She leaves the obvious unsaid—that he’s leaving to film in a few days and straight from there, it’ll be into the Army, so this will be one of the last times he can spend with them.
He nods. “O-okay, Satnin.”
And with that, he does as he’s told.
*
And then, in a blink of an eye, she’s gone. His mama is gone and his world fully collapses and it’s all his fault.
You are the only one who saves him from being completely swallowed in the blackness of his despair, and he’s not in his right mind to think or care how that looks. All he knows is you’re there when he needs you the most. You’re there to get him through the absolute worst of it before they send him a world away, and then, he loses you, too.
He loses everything that means anything to him—his mama, you, his career—and he wonders how long God will continue to punish him for his misdeeds, until he can’t bring himself to care much anymore about anything at all.
Germany feels like a cold fog that clouds his brain, even when he brings his Daddy and Dodger and Red over to live with him off base. In his haze, he writes Anita promises he wishes he could keep but deep down knows he won’t. Then, he turns around and does all the things he shouldn’t do because he can and what does it even matter if it’s all lost anyway? He takes the pills they give him to keep him awake in the field, and those make him feel pretty good, for a time anyway, and then he starts taking other pills they give him to bring him down after. In his off time, he screws and tries to forget the life he used to know.
And in those horrible quiet hours when he lies awake, trying to sleep when even the pills won’t let him, trying to escape and can’t, he thinks of you. He thinks of his love for you and your hold over him even now, a world away, and when he’s extra lonely, he imagines you on top of him, writhing and beautiful. And when he comes undone, there’s nothing left but a gaping hole in his heart and a mess in his hand.
*
March 1960
Elvis bites his nails to the quick on the long journey home. It’s not just because of the planes and the exhaustion and not knowing if he’ll ever get back to being “Elvis Presley,” but he knows he’ll be seeing you in a matter of hours. Not years or months or weeks, but hours.
And he thinks that maybe he is finally over you, that maybe he’s healed enough from everything and that he’s on his way to start something new, something fresh.
But, God, somehow you are more beautiful now than before, but you act so strange around him, and his heart wants to leap and implode all at once. Somehow everything has changed…but you, you still own his heart.
Once he discovers your pregnancy, he is over the moon for you because he can sense how badly you want this. He doesn’t care that the baby is Jack’s—he loves it more than anything because he loves you and seeing you so happy brings him true joy for the first time in a long, long time.
His career is taking off again, his new image impressing those who denounced him a few years ago, and he already has appearances and recordings and films lined up to go. Life feels…almost good, like maybe he’s finally paid his karmic debt.
Then you almost bleed to death in his arms.
His terrified confession of love is spoken in an act of desperation, a singular hope that if you know he loves you, you won’t be able to go, that the string of fate that draws you both together cannot be broken, that he can somehow will you back to life with the power of his love.
He begs God, begs as he’s never begged before, an inner wail of blood-soaked prayer that does not cease as he rides with your near-lifeless form to the hospital, nor when he calls Jack and your parents, nor as paces the waiting room.
Singularly focused on his pleas to God, he doesn’t even realize he’s covered in your blood until Charlie and Jerry arrive shortly after the ambulance and look at him in shock.
“Jesus, EP,” Charlie gasps quietly, taking in the macabre scene, “We need to get you changed and cleaned up before Jack gets here.”
That’s when he looks down and sees your life’s blood staining his pants, his shirt, his arms, his hands. God, it’s even under my nails, he thinks as he watches his hands shake, feeling utterly disconnected from his body.
He’s frozen, unable to move, repeating his prayers again and again, until Charlie whisks him away and has to physically help him strip down and wash the blood from his body in the bathroom. As he watches the pink-tinged water swirl down the drain, he cannot bear the thought that maybe it’s the last thing he has of you, these stains, and that maybe he’s truly lost you.
He just got you back. He can’t lose you. He won’t.
No, his inner mantra of prayer doesn’t cease until he is absolutely sure you are going to be okay.
Though “okay” is relative, he learns quickly. You have a long recovery ahead of you, the surgeons say, wiping their sweating brows, and the next few days will be crucial. The baby is gone, and the doctors say that more tests need to be done once you are well to see if that is even an option in the future.
He is heartbroken for you, and for Jack. But you are alive. You are alive.
Lamar and Red have to physically drag him from the hospital in the morning to get him ready and put him on the train to Florida for Frank Sinatra’s special, which is the very last thing he wants to do. But it is absolutely pivotal in his career comeback, so he tells Rosie in no uncertain terms that she is to keep him posted about her sister and any developments.
As he showers and packs, exhaustion seeping into his bones, it suddenly hits him that he told you he loved you, and it’s likely there will be fallout from that. It makes him incredibly worried, and he is even more loathe to leave until he knows where he stands with you. It’s possible you won’t even want to see him again.
Or it’s possible she loves you, too, a little voice hopes. But he knows better than to feed that monster. You don’t love him, not like that, and it’s selfish of him to even consider at a time like this.
“It’ll take your mind off things, EP,” Jerry tries to convince him, seeing his trepidation, prodding him along to get on the train. “And it’ll give y/n and Jack and her family time to get situated.”
The message is clear. Elvis is not in the inner circle of your life, not anymore, not as he wants to be. This fact is both sobering and cutting at the same time. It reminds him yet again that where he goes, you cannot follow, and where you go, he is not always welcome or needed.
He nods solemnly, thinking he finally understands, yet again, the terms of his deal with God. You live and he keeps his distance, he keeps his sins from tainting you. You live and he lets you go.
He pops a couple of pills, brought over from Germany, to wake him up, to get him in the performing mindset, to rev him up to being THE Elvis Presley. “Anything she needs, anything at all, comes to me,” he tells Jerry, “Hospital bills, recovery costs…and I want the best doctors helping her figure out her pregnancy issues. Oh, and send flowers, every day.”
Jerry nods, eyes observant and keen. “Of course, EP. Anything for y/n and Jack.”
Yes, anything for you.
*
You don’t remember a thing from that night, he learns from Rosie, and most of him thinks it’s for the best. But a small, egotistical part of him thinks bitterly that you certainly have a knack for forgetting anything monumental that happens between the two of you.
But he is busy. So busy, in fact, that he barely has time to think of you at all after that.
Except half the songs he chooses for his comeback album have something to do with you, which he only consciously realizes when he steps up to the mic to sing. And just as he thought of you the night of the talent show, he thinks of you now, singing about the girl of his best friend and how it feels so right being with you. He pours his hopes and dreams and frustrations and sorrows right into that album.
Perhaps it will cleanse him of needing you. Perhaps it’ll help him let you go.
When you find out that children are likely not in the cards for you and Jack, he sends more flowers, every day for a week. Jack is devastated and practically begs to come out to Hollywood to escape the sadness, so he agrees.
Anything for his friend, right?
He takes care of you from afar. He takes care of everything. Anything you could possibly want or need is yours. But he keeps his distance.
That is the bargain.
He falters at Christmas, almost letting his grief and yours ruin everything. He swears that you feel something for him, that maybe your impulse to be with him was not entirely driven by the drugs all those years ago. That maybe you do somehow remember his confession. Part of him swears if he had let it happen, you would’ve been his once again.
But you are not his, you never really were.
And while he knows this on a logical level, the more he is away, the more he fills his days with mindless movie making and wooing his costars and taking pills that bring him up and more that pull him down, the more he lets himself imagine you are his. From a distance, he can take care of you. From a distance and in the deep recesses of his mind, you belong to him and him alone.
“Elvis Presley” becomes a household name, now with a clean-cut image, alluring to both housewives and teenagers alike. His fame and wealth grow, and so does his isolation and loneliness. So does the need for the pills and to bring the rest of the guys into it all with him. Even Jack.
Especially Jack.
But he doesn’t like to think about why that is.
He manages to destroy his relationship with Anita along the way. He loved her, in his way, he really did. But she was not you. Neither is Ann, though he thinks for a moment that she may be the answer to his prayers, but in the end, he screws that up, too.
As the years drag on, he thinks he finally understands why he sabotages every relationship he’s ever had—it’s you—none of them are YOU. So he flits from fling to fling without ever truly landing because all he really wants is your love. But he doesn’t deserve it, he never has.
He knows this as he watches Jack descend into alcohol and drugs and women, and a small, horrible part of him wants Jack to self-destruct, and even though he knows this hurts you, he is too selfish to stop it. And the guilt of this, coupled with the downturn in his career, pushes him to self-destruct, too.
Still, he keeps his distance. When he’s home, he tries not to shoot you too many lingering glances. He reins himself in, most of the time, but in moments of weakness, he allows himself to get too close. He catches you alone, he makes a pass. But because you are you, you always rebuke him with a laugh. Silly Elvis, ever the jokester.
But sometimes, in the dark of night, in your beautiful, wide eyes, he sees something else. That deeper connection that drew you together in the first place, mixed with a heat he has only seen once or twice. And it is that which keeps his hope alive.
In an attempt to bury it and fill the hole in his heart, he almost marries, but in the end, he can’t go through with it. He’s wildly unhappy and dissatisfied, and it’s not until he finally gains some control over his career again that things take a turn for the better. He finally starts to clean up his act. He seeks knowledge and spiritual clarity. He finally finds his passion for music and performing again after nearly a decade.
But it’s too late for Jack. He managed to drag Jack to hell and while he made it back, Jack has not. And you are miserable because of it. This breaks his heart.
He tried to give you everything you wanted and needed by stepping back to let Jack do so. He kept his distance. He did what he’d promised God, and yet life still destroyed your dreams.
Jack no longer makes you happy. Jack is no longer the man who can give you what you need.
And suddenly Elvis wonders if he was wrong all along. That perhaps he wasn’t the man you needed then, but he is now. Perhaps his sins have been forgiven. Perhaps the more he pushes you away, the worse things become for both of you because you are indeed supposed to be together.
You are his. You’ve always been his.
So, riding high from his first Vegas performance, he finally allows himself to pursue you. He pushes away a decade and a half of guilt and shame and lets his charm and confidence entice you. He lets the sparks fly between you, finally free after all this time, and more intense than ever. To his gleeful surprise, you accept him willingly, if not a bit hesitantly.
Maybe it is just sex, he thinks at first, this carnal need he has for you, but he knows better. As soon as he tastes you after all these years, he knows he can never let you go again. As soon as he coaxes, then watches you come undone again and again, he realizes that still, after all this time, this is it for him. You are it. You always have been. And he will do anything to keep you, to make sure you know that you are his.
He thinks you might remember it all after that first night, but you don’t, not right away. He senses your fear to let go, to let yourself have him, to have this affair. He knows you want this to be only sex. And maybe it is for you, at first.
But he will have you. He doesn’t care how many mountains he must move or what he has to do to convince you to stay, but he loves you more than anything in the world and he’s not willing to part with you, not anymore.
It’s true that his fame, wealth, and influence have spoiled him into always getting what he desires. Of course, what he truly desires always has been you. Now unlocked, his love and want and need for you is insatiable, and he will do anything to keep it that way.
Anything for you. Anything but letting you go.
*
As the blackout of his rage starts to dissipate and he comes to, he assumes that his friends are holding him back from quite literally killing the disheveled and beaten man who used to be his best friend, and he watches with deep satisfaction as you slap the shit out of your husband.
He also feels the immense guilt of letting it get this far, of not knowing just how bad Jack was to you, and his part in all of it.
But when you vomit and promptly fall to an unconscious heap on the ground, his fear is what overshadows his rage and guilt. Something is wrong, he knows it.
Not again, not again, not again.
Triggered by your history, Elvis, with untold strength, wrenches himself from the four men holding him down and clamors to your side, everyone else forgotten.
Pulling your limp body into his lap, he screams for someone to call the doctor. His heart pounds so hard he thinks he might need one, too.
Please God, please God, please God. Not now, not after all we’ve been through.
That deep-seeded, old shame creeps back in as he rocks you: This is your fault. Your selfishness did this. You destroyed Jack, he took it out on her, and you’ve put her at risk, yet again. You are a scourge on this woman you claim to love so much. A pestilence.
He’s getting lost in this fearful despair, and then Jerry’s voice in his ear snaps him back: “EP. EP! You have to let her go, man. The doctor is here.” Jerry pulls his arms off her as the doctor examines her.
Elvis’ fingers go straight to his mouth, his obsessive habit of biting his nails taking over as he watches the doctor carefully.
The doctor looks up, taking in the scene. He looks at Elvis, then at Jack bleeding against the wall, and purses his lips. “Will somebody tell me what happened to this young lady?”
“There was an incident…” Jerry begins diplomatically.
“Her husband slammed his fist into her face!” Sandy yells over him, furious, earning scathing looks from the entourage. They knew better than to give details, knowing to keep things close to the chest and avoid any legal issues, to protect him at all costs.
“Sandy!” Jerry admonishes her.
“No, it’s okay, Jer,” Elvis says firmly, waving him off. “I’m sure the doctor knows to be discreet.”
The doctor looks up at his hovering, intimidating form, and says nothing for a moment. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I need to get her to a hospital and stabilized as soon as possible. She needs x-rays. It’s likely she has a serious concussion, Mr. Presley.”
The men start to argue, knowing that as soon as she leaves this room, a whole host of problems could fall down on them, but that’s the last thing he cares about right now. All that matters is you.
Elvis holds up his hand and everyone goes silent. “Do what you need to do, Doc. Anything she needs.”
The doctor nods and asks that someone phone for an ambulance.
Elvis looks up and sees that the men cleared the room at some point, leaving only the major players. Jack still sits, leaning on the wall next to Red, his face battered and bloody, watching the doctor. Elvis can’t tell if Jack is sorry or not. Elvis walks towards Jack, his anger tempered only by his concern for you.
“EP!” Jerry says in a warning tone, signaling for the men to flank him.
“I’m fine,” he commands, crouching at Jack’s side.
Jack flinches.
“Are you proud of yourself, Jacky Boy? Are you satisfied, seeing her laid out on the ground like that? Is this what you wanted?” he hisses.
Jack says nothing. He sees the tears in Jack’s eyes, the regret through the pain, and for a second, Elvis almost sees the man he used to know in there.
“Hmm,” he tuts, looking over his friend with disgust, shaking his head. “I’ll deal with you later. And you, too,” he says, with a low, deadly calm, pointedly to Red. Then he rises easily from the floor, his attention on the men with the stretcher who just entered the suite.
“It’s never enough with you, EP, you selfish motherfucker. The man who gets everything he wants, no matter how many lives he has to destroy to get it. The rules never apply to you, do they? Dammit, you coulda had anyone, anyone! Why did it have to be y/n?” Jack spits out mournfully from behind him.
Shame snakes through him, through the anger that continues to boil under just the surface, covering the sorrow that flows under that. There is truth in Jack’s words, he knows that, even though he wants to deny it.
“How long, Elvis?”
He supposes he owes Jack that much, though he doesn’t even turn his head.
“Opening night.”
“No, you bastard. How long have you been in love with my wife?”
The room goes silent yet again.
Elvis turns around, but he cannot bring himself to look Jack in the eyes for a moment. A lifetime of memories flashes through his head, of times much better than this, of times when they had each other’s backs. Ultimately, he knows what Jack has become is partially his fault. Ultimately, he knows it was wrong of him to want you when you weren’t his, wrong to have sex with you, even before the debacle of you and the pills. It was wrong of him to manipulate Jack into marrying you.
As much as he hates Jack right now, he once loved him, and still, he betrayed him.
Jack chuckles darkly, “That fucking long, huh?”
Elvis finally looks Jack in the eyes but says nothing. Nothing he can say will make any of this less of a fiasco. Nothing he can say with make it right, no matter how much he wants to jump in to defend himself, to tell Jack he saw you first, to tell him he wanted you first, to fucking explain that you’re his goddamn soulmate and he’s had to watch you be with someone else for almost two fucking decades.
“Ahhh, and she didn’t even know, did she?” A hint of a smile plays on Jack’s bloodied lips. “Didn’t even give the King the time of day! Well, at least I got that goin’ for me,” he laughs.
His brow furrows as he fumes, and he steps towards Jack again. Lamar puts himself between the two men.
“It’s fine, Lamar, let him at me. What do I have to lose now anyways?” Jack laughs, which turn suddenly to sobs, “You were my brother. I gave up my life for you! I loved you, man!”
The words cut Elvis to the bone, flooding his fury with more guilt.
“And I love her,” Jack sobs.
“You don’t fucking love her,” Elvis says, infuriated, pushing past Lamar to grab Jack’s chin, wrenching his head to look at you being put on the stretcher. “You hurt her. You been hurtin’ her. And Jack, if she dies, I don’t care what brotherly love was between you and me—I will fucking kill you,” he says, low and vehement in Jack’s ear, for only him to hear.
He pulls back to stare Jack in the eye, to let him know just how serious he is, to make sure he understands that through the pain and the alcohol and whatever pills he might be on.
Jack blinks through his tears and nods his head once, shakily.
Elvis releases him.
Then he steps in behind you, still unconscious, on the stretcher as they take you out of the penthouse and to the elevator.
“EP, I really don’t think it’s a good idea to…” Charlie starts, hustling behind him.
He turns, seeing the stares of the men who have given him their lives to stand by his side. Some of them are befuddled, some understanding and resigned, some even a little suspicious after tonight’s events.
“I don’t give two shits if it’s a good idea or not, I’m goin’ with her. Anyone wanna argue with me about it?” he says impatiently, shooting up an eyebrow.
No one does.
It’s good it’s the middle of the night, otherwise he would’ve caused a huge scene at the hospital. But the nurses and doctors seem to gather by his demeanor that now is not the time for autographs. Instead of putting them in the waiting room, they set up an empty room at the end of the hall for the lot of them, a gruff old nurse warning them they best be quiet and not wake any of the patients before she closes the door on them.
And for the third time in his life, he waits to know your fate.
He waits for you, just as he’s been waiting for you for the last 18 years.
He waits and he prays, though this time, he makes no bargains with God.
He stills when the doctor finally comes to tell him that, yes, you do have a concussion and though you will likely experience symptoms as you recover, you should recover fully. He feels like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders.
When the doctor leads him and him alone back to your room, the doctor mentions the other symptoms you’ll likely experience and that you might have issues with your memory leading up to the event. Elvis cannot help but chuckle at that.
“Oh, I’m betting she will,” he says under his breath, though this time, he thinks it might be best after what you went through tonight.
He sits by your side in the quiet, dimmed room, and is taken aback by the angry bruising already spreading over your beautiful face. His fury at Jack swells through him once more, followed immediately by sadness. You look so innocent and fragile lying there. Suddenly, he feels afraid to touch you, as though you might break.
So, he waits. He waits for you to wake and he prays. He thinks of the lifetime he’s had without you and the life he wants with you going forward. And this time, he knows he won’t be leaving your side for anyone or anything.
But his secrets still lay heavy and dark on his heart. There are those things he cannot tell you of that day at Graceland so long ago, and the things he still cannot bring himself to admit to, like his confession of love as you almost died in his arms and his meddling in your life. He doesn’t want to tell you how all of it has led to you lying here in this hospital, hurt and fragile but somehow still his, he hopes.
He doesn’t know what he’s going to do about it yet, so for now he just waits for you to come back to him.
He’s been too rough with you, he thinks, in his quest to show you how you are his. Pushing you too hard to keep up with his rockstar lifestyle and his insatiable need for you sexually has not been good for you. You’re exhausted, not eating, and have been on an emotional rollercoaster for days, and he was too consumed by his own selfishness to listen, so much so that he almost drove you away. The hurt, the feeling of pure panic that shot through him when you said you were leaving was enough to bring him to his knees, but of course, he could not tell you that. He couldn’t show you that weakness. Instead, he’d covered it with anger and passion, fucking you into submission.
He realizes his dominance, while fun in the bedroom, is perhaps masking his true feelings. He has told you in so many words how desperate he is for you, how he wants you to be with him, to let him take care of you, how he is yours, that he needs you. But in truth, he is afraid. Afraid that you don’t and never will feel the same towards him as he does towards you. That it is only his coercion, manipulation, and his sexual prowess that keeps you here with him. No matter how much you say you are his and that you will stay as he fucks it out of you, he’s not convinced that you’ll feel the same in the light of day, of your own accord.
Lord, the way you said you needed him tonight flashed him right back to that first time with you at Graceland. The time you don’t remember. He is putty in your hands now, just as he was then. But that need of yours was only sexual. If it is truly just sex for you and you are only staying for that…well, that scares him and makes him want to hold onto you so tightly that you can’t leave even if you wanted to.
If you don’t ever feel that same pull inside your heart, in your soul, that he has for you, he’s not sure what he will do.
Gone is the bravado and confidence gleaned from years of being Elvis Presley. Instead, he sits here at your bedside feeling stripped to his core: a nervous, stuttering boy with a funny name who loves you more than life itself. He is that boy who picked your books up off the ground, the one who you calmed backstage with your sweetness and wit. For you and you alone, he is just Elvis. And he’s worried he won’t recover if you don’t ever grow to love him.
Anxiety courses through him, a throbbing pulse that serves to remind him that for all he has and is in this world, he is still only a man. And you are the girl who has comforted him through some of his worst moments, yet now after all this time he’s still terrified to let you truly see him. If he lets you in, you will see him for all that he is and all the terrible parts of himself he’s ashamed of: his selfishness and possessiveness, his overindulgence, his obsessive tendencies, his goddamned vanity and ego. His secrets. If you know the things he’s kept from you, he’s not sure you’ll ever forgive him. Certainly, you could not love him.
His heart aches at that thought, flooding him with despair. He needs you so badly that he cannot bear to risk showing you everything; however, a deep part of him wants to flay himself bare to you, to expose himself in a way that he has never done before, not with anyone.
Elvis puts his head on the bed near your hand. He is going to be gentler with you, especially after tonight. He will prove to you that he is worthy of your love, that this is so much more than just sex. He’s going to take care of you and give you the life you’ve always deserved.
God has humbled him once again tonight, and he knows he must do better.
He loves you so deeply he can hardly breathe.
So, he waits. He prays.
And he hopes that one day, you will love him, too.
*
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I will always be here for you-J.S
find parts 1-4 here
Warnings: Cussing, pregnancy, childbirth, rooster being sweet, jake being domestic af as usual, one big happy family, a plot twist oooo
this may or may not be the final chapter of this mini series. i haven’t decided how i wanna end this so i might make this the finale or i may continue. who knows?
Taglist: @emma8895eb @archetypesoflife @sarahjoestewy-blog @gizmodear @topguncultleader
sorry if i missed anyone!!
enjoy! it’s a longer one!
After finding out the gender of the baby, you and Jake had finally decided on a nursery theme. It was pink and tan with floral paintings on the walls. It was beautiful and made you almost emotional. You couldn’t believe you were now a week away from your due date and you had made it this far. Looking at the final product you called the baby’s room, Jake hugged you from behind, rubbing his hands on your very large belly. “It really is perfect isn’t it?”
You sighed, “It really is. Now all we gotta do is come up with a name.” Even though that was the only thing left on your to do list besides give birth, you had a lot more on your mind.
Since the baby shower, Rooster has been slowly showing a more sympathetic side of himself. While he hasn’t blatantly apologized, he has been doing small things to almost do it without the words ‘i’m sorry’.
You were just passed your 6 month mark sitting and waiting for Jake to get off work. You didn’t live far from where he was working at the time with the Dagger Squad, so you would walk there on Friday’s to see him come out all hot and sweaty.
It would be a miracle if you made it through the allotted time your doctor gave you after birth to not have sex. That man was asking for baby #2.
Bradley had come out first while you were waiting for Jake. He had seen you and changed the course of his path to come talk to you. “How’s the little girl doing?” He kept his arms at his side, as if afraid to touch you or move wrong and scare you off.
“She’s good, been kicking me a lot though.” You tried to muster out a laugh but you couldn’t. You couldn’t forgive Brad yet for what he did to you when you told him. You knew he was trying to make it up to you, but you couldn’t help but feel like he had an ulterior motive to his kindness.
“I wonder who she gets that from- I’m sorry.”
He looked to the ground. “It’s okay, but probably me.” He laughed and that was the first time you’d heard him laugh since your fling. It made you crack a smile and when he saw, his whole demeanor changed.
“There’s that beautiful smile. I miss seeing that.” You froze. What were you supposed to say to that? “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. You do have a beautiful smile though. I hope she has your smile too.” Again, what were you supposed to respond with?? “I’ll just leave, I have to take Bob home anyways. You look amazing, you’re glowing. Everyone here sees it. Ask around.” You smiled and thanked him and off he went to his Bronco.
That Bronco. It’s seen things.
Again, when you were 7 and a half months along, you were in the commissary getting some stuff for the house when you had ran into Bradley. He took notice of the large size difference of your bump since your 6 month mark. “I don’t mean this to sound rude, but she’s getting big.” He let out a breathy laugh.
You couldn’t help but return the laughter. “Yeah, I’m really hoping she doesn’t destroy me. She’s getting heavy and she’s not even born yet.” That caused Bradley to smile.
“Have you and Jake picked out a name?” You looked up at Bradley.
“Uh- we. No, not yet.” You swallowed hard. Something had Bradley’s mind turning, and you could see it all over his expression. “Brad?” He looked up. “Do you wanna feel her kick?” His eyes lit up but he was hesitant to reach out.
“Are you sure? I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I’ve been too much, I just feel-“ You interrupted him before he could embarrass himself and took his hand and placed it on your belly. Almost immediately as if your little girl knew who was there, she kicked- and HARD.
You let out a grunt and gripped your stomach and bent over a bit, reaching for your cart. “Are you okay?!” Bradley immediately went to your aid. One hand was on the cart to keep it steady, the other on your right shoulder. He was studying your expression, looking for any signs of relief or pain. You took a deep breath and made yourself upright letting out a chuckle. Bradley was still on you, looking for any confirmation that you were truly okay.
“I’m okay, she’s just never kicked me that hard. Knocked the wind out of me.” You looked up and noticed how close he was to you. You watched his eyes drift down to your lips and you felt a surge of nausea swirl in your stomach. You cleared your throat and he immediately gave you space.
“I’m so sorry.” He swallowed hard, face turning red.
“It’s okay. I gotta get going though before my frozens melt.” You gave him one last smile before heading down the isle to the checkout.
The time that really stood out to you though was just 2 weeks ago. You were at the doctor getting your checkup to see how your baby was doing and moving. You were in the waiting room when Bradley walked in carrying a sickly looking Javy on his shoulder. He talked to the nurse before she took him back, leaving you and Brad alone in the waiting room. He took notice of you and asked to sit down next to you.
“Javy came into work looking awful and refused to go home. I finally convinced him to come in when he threw up and the puke was green. I think he has food poisoning.” He let out a laugh at the expense of his friend.
“I’m just here to check up on our girl here.”
“Our?” Your eyes went wide as you caught your slip up.
“I mean technically-“
You started to correct yourself but he quickly fixed it for you. “You and Jake are going to be amazing parents. You guys are going to have a beautiful baby girl.” You suddenly felt a pang of guilt at his words.
“Brad.” You took his hand. “I know you aren’t active in the pregnancy and you didn’t want this baby to begin with, but it is OUR baby. You and me. We made this.” He looked at you and started tearing up.
“I’m so sorry. I panicked. I wasn’t ready and I didn’t know what to do. Then I saw how happy you were that you were pregnant and I realized that was what I wanted. I may not want to be a dad yet, but the way your as radiant as ever with that beautiful belly made me realize one thing. I want you to be happy, and if this makes you happy then I’m okay.” He took a ragged breath, “I know you and Jake are happy and that we take over that father role, and I’m okay with that. I’ll happily watch on the sidelines if that means I get to see you smile.”
You didn’t know what to say. Should you forgive him? Should you call his bluff and remind him of what he said to you? The way he made you feel?
“Brad-“
“Don’t say anything, I don’t ever expect you to forgive me.”
“But I do.” He looked at you with wide teary eyes. You nodded to confirm what you had just said.
“Thank you…please don’t feel obligated to make me a part of the baby’s life. It never has to know if you don’t want it to.”
“Can we try to be friends Brad?” He smiled and nodded.
“I’d like that. I can be Uncle Brad if you-“
“No. I think when she’s old enough, she should know. I’ll have to talk to Jake but, I think he’ll understand.”
Bradley froze in his spot. “I- really- please. Don’t feel like you need to do that just because I apologized.”
“I’ve been thinking it over since the baby shower Brad. I saw the way you looked when we discovered it was a girl. It broke my heart that you aren’t able to connect with something you helped create. This baby is equal parts of you and me, so shouldn’t it know both of its parents?” Bradley still hadn’t moved. “Brad, I’m serious. I asked myself, ‘if I was raised never knowing my dad and being told my stepdad was my real dad, how would I feel?’. The answer? I’d feel betrayed. I don’t want our child to feel that way.”
“Thank you.” It was barely above a whisper, and his voice sounded broken even at such a low volume. Before he could say another word, the doctor came out and called your name. You said your goodbye and waved and you hadn’t seen him since.
You hadn’t yet brought it to Jake and you didn’t bother texting Bradley as you didn’t have a solution yet. Gazing upon the room soon to be full of laughter and diaper changes, you knew in your heart it was the right thing to do. Even if Brad wasn’t always around, he deserved to at the very least meet her.
“Hey babe.” You turned around in Jake’s arms to face him. He looked at you with such admiration, it made it hard for you to say what you wanted to. You didn’t want to hurt Jake.
“What’s up?”
“I’ve been thinking about Bradley.” Jake’s face became one of confusion. “He is her dad and I’ve told you about how he’s been lately. I think he’s sincere and I think he deserves to at least meet her. If I grew up being told my dad was someone else and never knew my real dad I’d feel hurt. I don’t want baby girl to be hurt.” Jake sighed and nodded.
“I understand but I don’t know. How do we know he’s not just doing this to try to kick me out and weasel back in? What if he just wants to claim you and the baby for housing allowance? Time off?” Jake had a point, but you would never leave Jake. He’s done so much for you and always a drop of a hat.
“You know I would never leave you right? After everything you’ve done for me I’d have to be an idiot to walk away. Look at the life you’ve made for us. A cute adorable house, my comfortability during my pregnancy, and now a nursery for baby girl. You’ve given me safety and stability and pure happiness, Jake. I’d be a fool to leave you.” Jake smiled and planted a kiss on your forehead, staying there for a moment and took a deep breath.
“Can I sleep on it?”
“Of course. She’s not due for another week anyways.” You both grabbed the others hand and went downstairs to finish off your Sunday evening.
Monday morning came and as you woke up, you had peed yourself. “Shit.” It smelled and you were lucky Jake had already gone to work. You quickly got up to clean yourself before heading back to get the sheets washed when you nearly collapsed from unimaginable pain in your abdomen. “No, no, no, no, no. Not now!! You’re too early!! Fuck!!” You searched for your phone in a panic when the pain wouldn’t go away. You yelled out in pain and quickly dialed the first number you could get your hands on in your emergency contact list. The ringing hit your ears and you didn’t even wait for a voice as soon as you heard the line connect.
“My water broke! I’m going into labor!”
“Oh my god!! Shit!!” You recognized Natasha’s voice anywhere. “Oh my god!! Someone find Jake NOW!” Her voice was commanding as voices chattered on the other side. You groaned out in pain again before it subsided and you felt like you were going to pass out. “How far apart are your contractions?”
“I don’t know, I woke up and thought I peed but then I got this bad pain and it just now went away.”
“Shit shit- where is he?! Stay calm, grab onto something we’re getting you help-“ Another wave came on and you yelled out, nearly screaming. “Oh my god you’re not far apart. FIND HIM!!” Voices filled your ears, and you picked out Bob’s panic.
“I haven’t seen him all day! Coyote went to find him. Where’s Maverick?! He’ll know what to do!” You tried to giggle at Bob’s adorable voice. He was always cute when he was nervous, like a kid who had been caught eating halloween candy when he wasn’t supposed to.
You yelled out in pain again and Natasha’s words became faded. You heard her yelling and screaming at people before finally you heard ‘just give me the phone please’ followed by a calming voice.
“Hey, just breathe. They found Jake, he’s on his way to get you. You got this. Stay calm and focus on your breathing. Breathe with me.”
You knew it to be the one and only Bradley Bradshaw.
You yelled out again, the pain still not subsiding. You had no clue how long it had been since your water broke in your sleep, so you had no idea how long your body had technically been in labor. “Breathe in for four,” you took a breath in, listening to his voice. “One, two, three, four. Now hold it for four-“ He calmly and slowly counted you through each breath, a nice change of pace from Natasha’s yelling and you felt your body relax with each number. It felt like time slowed down as he spoke to you and you felt peace amongst the contractions. “You got it, keep breathing okay? Jake should be there any minute now. I’m sure he’s speeding like the devil to get to you. You’re gonna be okay. You’re so strong, you can handle this no problem.” He kept giving you encouragement as you felt another wave of pain. You gritted your teeth as you yelled, this one worse than the last. You felt your vocal chords ripping at the intensity of your scream, you didn’t even hear the door slam open downstairs.
“Hey, you’re okay! Breathe Y/N!! Breathe! Remember in for 4, come on do it with me!” Bradley’s voice distracted you from Jake’s yelling until you physically felt Jake around you. He was sweating, and he looked so afraid, you must’ve looked horrible to cause him such fright. “You got her?”
“Yeah I got her, thanks Rooster. Tell Maverick I won’t be back today.” He hung up the phone and grabbed the hospital bag and quickly scooped you up, practically running to the car.
You blinked and you were in a hospital bed with an epidural. The nurses and doctor were all in the room, Jake at your side gripping your hand and giving you little bits of motivation. In all honesty, he was more of a wreck than you were, you thought he might pass out.
Even with the medicine, you’d been in extreme pain, causing you to become dizzy and weak. You’d been at this for nearly 5 hours now and you were only 3 cm dilated. They gave you all they could to speed it up, and the doctor even said he’d suspected you’d been in labor for nearly 15 hours now including the morning.
“The head isn’t in position! If this baby drops, it’s gonna wrap the chord on its ne-“ Before you could comprehend what the nurse was saying, you felt a shot of pain and the heart monitor went out. All the staff jumped to remove you from your stand and get you to an emergency C-section. You started to freak out, you couldn’t lose your baby, and you didn’t want to die either. You were so scared and just when you needed Jake the most, he was told to wait outside.
The last thing you remember is the doctor telling you it’s gonna be okay before you blacked out from pain.
When you woke up, it was the next morning from the time on your clock on the wall. The TV was playing some cooking show really quietly and you felt incredibly weak. You could barely muster a breath, let alone move your head. You felt a hand on yours and you slowly tried to turn your head. To your left, Jake was in a chair, a blanket and pillow accompanying him. His eyes were red and puffy, and you assumed the worse. “I’m so happy you’re awake.” He leaned in to give you a soft and gentle kiss, which you reciprocated.
“What happened?”
He took in a shaky breath. “She wasn’t head down, and she caught herself in her umbilical chord and flatlined, when they got you back there you went with her. I was so scared that I would lose you both. After hours, they finally brought you back in here to me. You were fast asleep and so pale I thought you were dead. When they hooked you back up and I saw your heartbeat, I broke. You are so amazing, you know that? You are so strong and I love you so much.”
“But…what about? Baby girl? Did she-“ You were starting to breathe quickly and Jake was a blubbering mess. You assumed she didn’t make it due to your state of health. He went to speak when another voice appeared followed by a face to match.
“She’s beautiful. She looks just like you.” You followed to see Bradley. Your eyes widened.
“I didn’t know what to do, they wouldn’t tell me anything, so I called him. He helped me through it all. They wouldn’t even let me see her.” Jake leaned down to cry into your hand. You hadn’t even thought about that. Jake wasn’t your husband nor was he your child’s father. Of course they would only tell Bradley the information as the proven biological father.
“I took Jake up there to see her through the window. But only I was allowed to hold her after your surgery.”
“You were in there?”
“I came running as soon as I saw his name light up on my phone. I knew something was wrong. When I got here and they figured out who I was, they scrubbed me up and shoved me into the room to keep an eye on you if you were to wake up. They wanted you to have a familiar face there so you wouldn’t panic, but they only allowed the mother’s parents or the father of the child in.” You couldn’t believe he showed up.
You couldn’t believe Jake went to him.
“They pulled her out and I heard her cry-“ he choked back his tears. “It was the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. They cleaned her off and handed her to me, to get skin to skin while they stitched you up. She’s stunning Y/N. I’m so proud of you.”
“What happened to me in there Brad?”
“It was horrible.” Jake spoke up now. “The nurse came out and told me Brad gave the responsibility to me to decide whether or not I wanted them to try and save you. Bradley gave me the choice. I couldn’t handle it.”
You looked to Bradley. “When she finally was born and they took her away ti be cleaned, all your monitors started going off. You were losing too much blood too quickly. They asked me the question and I couldn’t do it. Jake is your partner, so I thought it best for him to be the one to decide since he took the responsibility when I decided to leave you in the dust. Watching you bleed out on that table killed me. You became pale, your under eyes turning yellow. I thought you were gone.”
“But I’m not.”
“I donated blood for you.” Jake looked at you, attempting to pull himself together. “They wanted Bradley too but I was the only match for your blood type out of us two. So they took a ton of blood so you could be okay.” You tugged on Jake’s hand to give him a kiss. You wanted to cry.
“Thank you Jake. I don’t know where I’d be without you. I love you.”
“Don’t thank just me. As much as I hate to admit when I’m wrong, Bradley has changed. I remember wanting to get him sent on different orders for months. I wanted to tear him from the sky on every training exercise. Now, I owe him everything for what he’s done today.” Jake looked at Brad and extended a hand for him to shake.
“Bradley.” He turned to you and sat on the bed by your feet. You reached out with your other hand and grabbed his, Jake helping you sit up. “Thank you. I knew something had sparked in you the moment I saw you at the gender reveal. You’ve changed so much since I told you about our girl. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“I wasn’t even there.”
“But you were when it mattered. You talked me through my contractions on the phone. The peace I felt when you calmly spoke to me was such a relief. You ran a snap of a finger when Jake called for you. You two hate each other!” All three of you laughed. “Both of you, I really am so greatly for you two. I couldn’t have done it without you. And Brad, I’m so glad to got to see her, hold her. I’m really happy you were there with me when Jake couldn’t be.”
Just then a nurse walked in. “Ah! Moms awake! How are we feeling mom?”
The nurse checked all your vitals and checked on your scar to make sure everything was normal. She said the weakness is nothing to worry about and that it will go away with time.
“Do you want to see her?” You nodded as she stepped out and returned in a bit with a clear bassinet. A swaddle of pink blankets lay in it. The nurse took her out and placed her in your arms, pulling your gown down for skin to skin.
“I’ll leave you be to soak it all in and have some privacy. I’ll come check on you in awhile. Congratulations.”
As she stepped out, you burst into tears. “Did you pick out a name?” You turned to Jake. “Either of you?”
“I did.” Jake spoke up. “It’s not official yet in case you hated it. Bradley doesn’t even know her name yet.”
“You have a name?” Bradley spoke up, clearly as clueless as you.
“I did. Her name will be Caroline Mae Bradshaw.” You and Bradley both shot shocked faces his way. “Caroline after your mother, Carol.” He gestured to Bradley. “Mae after your mother, Mary Mae.” He gestured to you. “I feel it only appropriate for her to take her father’s name. I don’t feel right giving her mine. So, she’s a Bradshaw.”
“Jake. You don’t have to-“
“I want to Bradley. She’s yours. I love Y/N and this beautiful baby girl with my entire being, but I did nothing to make her existence. It doesn’t matter if her creation was an accident. You still played a huge part without even knowing it and after all you’ve done for Y/N over the last few months, I think it’s only fitting.” You broke out into sobs. You were overcome with so much love and emotion you couldn’t handle it. Watching the two men in your life connect right in front of your eyes, getting something you never thought you would. You looked at Jake.
“Do you wanna hold Caroline then?” Jake nodded as he carefully took her from your arms.
“She really is beautiful, but I think you don’t give yourself enough credit Brad, look at her again.” Jake sat down next to you as Brad took the chair at the bedside. You all took a good look at her as she slowly began to open her eyes.
She may have had some of your defining features like the shape of your lips or the point of your nose, but her dark head of hair and beautiful deep brown eyes were all Bradley. She was a beautiful mix. She looked up at Jake with wide eyes, studying his face. “Hi prettt girl, I’m your stepdad. This is your mom,” he tilted her up a little so you could wave a coo at her, “and this is your dad.” He looked at Bradley, handed her over so he could hold Caroline.
“Hey peanut. It’s dad.” She let out a couple excited breaths at the sound of his voice and it caused you to laugh. “I think she likes me.”
“She better.” You chimed in.
You leaned your head against Jake as he wrapped his arms around you. “Why don’t you get some more rest okay? I think we got this. You need to gain your strength back so we can take you gorgeous girls home.”
You muttered out a small ‘okay’ as Jake adjusted you to wear he could hold you while you slept. “You take care of mom, I’ll take care of the little one.”
“Deal.” Bradley got up to go rock Caroline while Jake brushed through your hair with his fingers and quietly talked to you while you drifted off to sleep.
To an onlooker, it was a beautiful view. Bradley rocking his brand new baby girl, cooing at her and talking to her. You fast asleep after the accomplishment you made today and the hardship your body went through. Jake right there by your side, propped up on an elbow, fingers brushing your hair while he hummed softly to get you to rest.
Despite the differences between the three, they came together to make a beautiful family. A happy trio for one pretty special kid.
(a year and a half later)
You were hosting your first get together for the dagger squad since you gave birth. You and Jake agreed to give it a year for your recovery since you took your time regaining your strength. Bradley was often over to take care of Caroline so Jake could focus on you. You were sick for months after giving birth. In and out of the hospital for the first 4 months of Caroline’s life. Once you got better, you and Jake got a marriage license and you officially became Mrs. Seresin. You enjoyed the first couple months of your marriage in private while Bradley took over Caroline. So after a year, you were well and back to your normal self. But, Jake wanted to give it a few more months just to be safe, so here you are with an 18 months old and a new last name.
You had Caroline in a wrap against your chest while Jake was in the kitchen cooking. Bradley was setting up in the living room with Natasha and Bob. You had just gotten Caroline dressed and headed down the stairs as everyone started to arrive. You greeted everyone and Caroline babbled to a few of the pilots. She was quite fond of her Uncle Bob.
Everytime Bob was over Caroline just clung to him. If Bob set her down or stopped giving her attention, she started to whine. It was cute but poor Bob couldn’t catch a break. So today, she was glued to your chest.
You walked into the kitchen as Jake began plating the food. “Are you nervous?” He asked when he. priced you coke in.
“A little bit, but I think it’s all going to turn out.” He set the last plate down before grabbing your hand.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
You both walked into the living room where everyone was started to get drinks and catch up. “Lunch is ready but first we have something to announce.”
As Jake was talking you reached into your back pocket and pulled out a little white stick with a plus sign on it. You shouted, “We’re pregnant! Baby Seresin due i. 8 months!” You we’re already a month along, but decided to wait until everyone was together to announce it.
The room burst into hoops, hollers, cheers and congratulations. You looked to Jake as he kissed you.
“Don’t call me in a panic this time, because I won’t be able to to shit.” Bradley quipped as you all began laughing.
“Shit!” You all fell silent as Caroline said her first word.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You pinched the bridge of your nose as the laughter fired up again. With a little Bradshaw and a Seresin on the way, you were going to have your hands full.
#jake seresin#top gun maverick#bradley bradshaw#top gun rooster#top gun au#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin x you#bob floyd x reader#hangman seresin x reader#hangman x reader
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In the Mood for Love (Austin!Elvis x Reader)
Summary: Elvis breaks up with you just as his career is taking off, as if your support for him meant nothing. You finally manage to work through your heartbreak and start what you think is a new chapter in your life with someone who seems to understand what you’re going through. After two months of guilt and regret, Elvis returns to Memphis to find that you’ve apparently moved on, but he’s determined to win you back.
Note: This is based off of an anonymous request. Reader is gender neutral. I listened to the soundtrack from In the Mood For Love (one of my favorite movies ever) while writing this, and Frank is inspired by Tony Leung’s character Chow. Please let me know what you all think. Requests are open🔮 Do not interact with my blog or posts if you are under 18 or post ED/thinspo content.
Word Count: 4.6k
Warnings: Mentions of cheating. Some jealous behavior, but nothing disturbing.
Walking up to ‘Miss Louann’s Dance Studio’ as the sun set purple behind you, you felt your stomach flip at the prospect of stepping out of your comfort zone. You signed up for a beginner’s Latin dancing class on a whim, wanting something to take your mind off of Elvis, your boyfriend of two years, breaking up with you as soon as he started getting famous.
Even if you ended up being terrible at it, you hoped a new hobby and making new friends would be a step in the right direction of getting yourself out of the funk you’d been in for the past two months. You’d go to work and feel sorry for yourself, come home and cry yourself to sleep, and be an absolute drag whenever you went out with friends because inevitably his music was playing somewhere. If anyone but your ex had recorded ‘Heartbreak Hotel’, you’d probably have the record on non-stop. You decided enough was enough, and you needed to move forward with your life.
The dance class was held twice a week in the evenings, which fit in perfectly with your work schedule. The modest dance studio showed signs of wear, especially on the wood flooring with grooves and scuff marks from years of dancers moving across it. Miss Louann had opened the studio after the war, and it seemed like she hadn’t updated anything since.
You set your bag down next to the others that were piled against the wall. Scanning the room, you noticed a mix of a few dozen couples and singles, all appearing to be in their late teens to mid-thirties. You walked over to a small group of people, awkwardly introducing yourself. To your relief, they were all friendly, and you enjoyed the casual conversation with them.
Miss Louann walked into the studio wearing a bright red dress with ruffles at the hem, her matching heels clicking against the floor. Certainly a bold look, but she caught everyone’s attention right away.
"Circle please, my dears! I want to see everyone’s lovely faces!" she declared, her voice as loud as her outfit. "Since this is a large class, we’ll skip over introductions, which is a shame because I’m extremely nosy and like to know as much about people as possible."
This brought on chuckles and laughs from the other people in the class. You liked Miss Louann already.
"If you currently do not have a partner, please raise your hand so I can pair you up. Now, the person you’re partnered with may rotate, depending on the number of people in the class,” she said, “but if you don’t mind being paired with a person of the same gender, I certainly don’t have any objections. C’est la vie!"
You lifted your hand. You didn’t care whether you were paired with a man or woman, truth be told. Miss Louann busied herself with partnering people up, while the couples who’d come together took their places on the floor.
"Your name, dear?" she asked when she walked up to you.
"Y/N," you answered.
"Y/N, let’s see which of these bums is good enough for you, hm?" she joked as she scanned the men standing around without a partner. There were a handful more women than men in the class, but some of the girls seemed to know each other already and paired up anyway.
Miss Louann’s eyes lit up, and she waved her manicured hand. "Frank, dear, you’ll be Y/N’s partner."
Frank gave you a warm smile as he walked over to you. He was handsome, with a boy next door look that immediately endeared you to him. Not as handsome as Elvis. You shook the thought from your mind. He was the last person you wanted to think about.
You and Frank stood next to each other as Miss Louann explained the basics of Latin dance, having studied it as she lived in various parts of South America before the Depression. Even then, she said that the style was diverse, ever evolving, that you could never truly stop learning. She demonstrated a simple dance to start, one to get everyone into the rhythm of the music and dance style.
"This first class isn’t about how good you are. I want you to have fun tonight," she said. "Now get to it!"
You turned to face Frank, who held his hand out for you.
"Sorry in advance if I trip you up," he said.
"I’ve never done this before either, so no judgment," you said.
During your dance together, Frank confessed over Nat King Cole’s cover of ‘Quizas quizas quizas’ that he joined the class to get his mind off of a recent breakup with his longtime girlfriend. You quickly divulged that you were there for almost the exact same reason. Strangely, you felt comforted knowing you were lonely, but certainly not alone. You spoke with Frank as you danced, getting to know each other better. While he told you that his ex was named Cynthia, you didn’t tell him your ex’s name. After all, how many guys named Elvis were walking around?
The class ended far too soon for your liking, but Frank offered to drive you home, which you gladly accepted. You knew how it’d look to have a guy dropping you off at your place late at night, especially one you’d only just met, but for the first time in weeks, you arrived home in a good mood. Your parents were visibly relieved when you walked in with a smile on your face, chattering on about how fun the class was. They’d expressed concern for you, but you’d brushed them off, wanting to wallow and mope instead. It was nice having something to look forward to again.
You ended up becoming friends with some of the people from your dance class, much to your delight. While none of you were trying to make it professionally as dancers, it was fun getting together to practice at the nearby park and then go out to eat or get drinks afterward. Even though everyone came from different backgrounds, you at least had the dancing that brought you together.
You and Frank especially grew close, spending more and more time with him outside of class. Usually the two of you would find a diner that was open 24/7, spending hours talking over baskets of fries and glasses of milkshakes. You felt validated knowing that your response to the breakup wasn’t an overreaction, that he’d felt the same hurt and betrayal you did and sunk into a hole of loneliness and depression he never thought he’d claw his way out of. His ex-girlfriend Cynthia had cheated on him with one of his best friends, just as Frank was saving up to buy a ring and propose to her. He spent the money on the dance class instead.
He spoke about Cynthia the same way you did Elvis, a nostalgic bitterness at the heartache, unable to even appreciate the memories of the good times without falling to pieces, and the knowledge you’d do it all over again in a heartbeat if given the chance. Frank was honest and sensitive, and you found yourself developing a bit of a crush on him from how much you’d opened up to each other in just a few weeks of being friends.
One night, when your parents were out late, he brought over a new album of assorted Spanish-language songs specifically for Latin dancing. What began as just listening to the album turned into impromptu dance practice, until during one particularly slow and sensual song, he boldly dipped you, kissing you sweetly and softly. It was like a scene out of a movie, and definitely not unpleasant, but you didn’t feel anything like when Elvis kissed you, where it seemed like nothing was real except you, him, and the butterflies you felt in your stomach.
From the disappointed expression on Frank’s face, you could tell the kiss didn’t live up to his expectations either.
"Do you still love him?" he asked softly.
"Yeah,” you answered. “Do you still love her?"
"Yeah."
You sat down on the worn-out living room couch with him. "You know how he broke up with me to focus on his career," you said.
He nodded. You trusted him, but you didn’t want things to change between the two of you if he knew who your ex was. "Well, up until about two months ago, I was in a two year relationship with Elvis Presley."
"You’re kidding. The guy who does the thing with his hips and all that? I think one of my sisters has a poster of him in her room."
You laughed. "He sings too. Just when he started getting really famous, he dumped me. Said it was better for business if he was single, or something," you recounted sadly.
"I’m sorry, Y/N," Frank said. "I like you a lot, but if you’re not ready to be in a relationship, I’m happy to stay friends. I don’t think I am either, to be honest."
"Thank you, Frank," you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "You’re a good kisser, by the way."
"Good to know," he said with a smile.
Things were going well, you were nailing the new dances Miss Louann taught, so much so that you and Frank spoke about signing up for the intermediate class together.
You’d be glad to keep going to Miss Louann’s, and especially to spend more time with Frank. You did hang out with some of the other people from the class on your own, but none of them seemed to understand you like he did.
During one of your days off from work, you were running errands before meeting with Frank. In the produce section of the local grocery store, you ran into Gladys Presley. You’d been avoiding the Presleys since Elvis dumped you. His parents had always been kind to you, and you knew they had nothing to do with the breakup, but it was still too close to him.
You gave her an awkward smile, unsure how to respond when she went marching over to you. She engulfed you in a hug, kissing your cheek.
“Y/N, honey, how are you?”
“I’m good, Mrs. Presley,” you said. It was weird to call her that, early on in your and Elvis’ relationship, she said you could just call her ‘Mama’ too.
“She must really like ya,” Elvis had whispered to you, a bright smile on his face.
Her expression fell a bit, “We miss seein’ ya around, but I understand, honey. And believe me, I raised my boy better than to do you like that. It’s that damn Colonel–”
“I know,” you assured her. “How have you been?”
“Well, worryin’ myself sick,” she sighed. “He calls but you know him. The Colonel’s got him workin’ like a dog and all the press does is say he’s some delinquent. Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t talk so much. I have missed seein’ you, Y/N. You should come by for dinner sometime.”
“I’d love to, but I started taking a Latin dance class recently. Just to do something different,” you said with a shrug. “So I’ve been busy with that most evenings now. Some of us practice at the park up the street from the apartments.”
“That’s nice, honey. I’m glad you’re doin’ good.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Presley. It was great catching up with you.”
“You too, Y/N,” she said.
You walked down to an empty aisle to silently congratulate yourself for not breaking down when she mentioned him. Considering it a win, you treated yourself to a carton of your favorite ice cream, throwing it into the cart with a smile.
Meanwhile, in a roadside motel somewhere in Alabama, your ex-boyfriend was not having as good of a time of things as you were. He thought that the regret he felt at breaking up with you would go away, like the Colonel said, but he couldn’t get you off his mind, except when he was on stage. Even then, he found himself instinctively looking at the crowd for you.
He had fans waiting outside of his motel rooms at all hours of the night, but he felt so deeply alone, like it threatened to consume him. He often found himself dialing the first few digits of your phone number before hanging up. It was a mistake. You were the one, and he blew it.
During his frequent phone calls with his mother, he resisted the urge to ask about you, but this time he couldn’t help it. He was going home for the first time since he broke up with you, there to stay for a few weeks while the Colonel worked out his next album and supporting tour schedule.
"How’s uh—how’s Y/N?" Elvis asked.
"Y/N? You know, I ran into them at the grocer’s just the other day, and they said they started takin’ a Latin dancing class. We don’t see much of them anymore, though, Bewbie," Gladys said.
He sat on the motel bed, bewildered. He didn’t even know you liked Latin dancing, you’d never mentioned it once while the two of you were dating.
"Bewbie, you still there?"
"Yeah, I’m here, Mama."
"Darlene across the hall, she told me that she’s seen Y/N all over town with this boy they met dancin’. Think his name is Hank? No, Frank! And she said that she sees them dancin’ most every night at the park, you know the one right up the street here."
“Every night?”
“They sure are.”
"Well, I’ll be home for the next few weeks. Maybe I could see them there.”
"Bewbie, I love you, but the way you broke that sweet thing’s heart? I thought I raised you better."
"Mama, the Colonel said—"
"I don’t give a damn what that man said! A person’s heart is not somethin’ to be toyed around with, ‘specially not one like Y/N’s," she said, before letting out a wistful sigh. "Y’all woulda given me the cutest little grandbabies."
"Mama, c’mon," Elvis groaned.
"You made your choices, now you gotta live with it," she said.
He quickly ended the call, lying back on the motel bed as he processed what his mama said. You going out dancing, and with a new guy at that. He couldn’t just sit around at home next week knowing he had the chance to make things right.
Of course, it was near chaos when he arrived home. He could hardly get to the front door of the apartment building, and was stuck signing autographs until his mama pulled him inside, shouting for everyone to go away. It was nice to be home, in his own bed and eating home-cooked food, but he kept looking at the clock, wondering what time you’d be likely to go to the park.
Around 8, he told his family he was going out. His mama gave him a warning glare, which he tried his best to ignore as he left. He was glad to find the emergency exit of the building open, so he could slip away without causing another scene with the handful of fans who were still waiting outside for him.
The park wasn’t far, only a few blocks from where he lived. The night air was cool and refreshing against his skin as he walked.
He noticed a dozen or so people sitting around one of the empty basketball courts. An older looking couple had a portable record player with them, along with a stack of albums. From a few yards away, he could hear the sound of an upbeat salsa tune, and watched as a couple began to dance. His breath caught in his throat when his eyes landed on what he knew to be you, sitting awfully close to a man. You were focused on the dancers, whispering to the man you were sitting next to every so often.
Elvis moved through the shadows, getting closer to where the group was. He leaned against a nearby tree, hoping to remain undetected by you until he could get you alone.
“Y/N, Frank, you go next,” a young woman called out, appearing to startle you.
“Gracie, do you just like to put me on the spot?” you joked, the rest of the group laughing and making their own comments in response.
“I don’t wanna catch you slackin’, Y/N,” Gracie said with a mischievous smile.
Elvis felt his chest tighten at the sound of your laughter. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it.
You walked under the soft glow of the streetlamp, hand-in-hand with who he could only assume was Frank. You were nervous, he could see the tics from a mile away. Your eyes never left Frank, though. Instead, you put your hand on his shoulder, and he placed his on your waist. A few silent moments later, the song began to play out. He recognized it vaguely. Perfidia.
He was stunned at the way you moved. Confident, graceful, in tune with the music and your partner. He slunk down against the tree, guilt and jealousy washing over him. He could remember when you used to look at him the way you did Frank, like there was no one else in the world but him.
The group clapped for you and Frank, who you hugged tightly. You looked up from the hug to see Elvis standing alone, a few feet behind the group. You blinked rapidly. It had to be a dream, there was no way he was actually there. You had no idea how he’d even know about it, until you remembered you told his mother, who told him pretty much everything.
As you and Frank moved along for the next duo to practice, Elvis walked up to you. You stiffened, squeezing Frank’s hand. Elvis felt a pit in his stomach, did you hate him that much?
“Y/N, I—how are you?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” you answered coolly. “Elvis, this is my friend Frank. Frank, this is Elvis.”
Frank stuck out his free hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah,” Elvis said, giving Frank a half-hearted handshake. “You were incredible,” he said, looking at you.
“Thank you.”
"Can I talk to you?" he asked. "Alone?"
You looked to Frank, who nodded, staying behind to watch the next couple dance. You and Elvis silently made your way to another one of the empty basketball courts, the lamp illuminating that court flickering every so often. Shifting uncomfortably, you avoided eye contact with him.
"I didn’t know you dance,” he said.
"That’s because I didn’t, not until a few weeks ago.”
“If I’d known you wanted to dance I woulda—”
"Why did you come here tonight, Elvis?" you snapped.
He scratched the back of his head. "See, I was thinkin’ maybe we could give us another chance. I miss you, Y/N. I shouldn’t have broken up with you.”
You shook your head. Weeks ago you would have jumped at the chance to get back together with him. It wouldn’t be fair to Frank to go back to Elvis so easily, not when you and Frank had been trying so hard to get over past your relationships. You wanted to so badly, though. You still loved him.
"You can’t just come back here and say that. It’s been two months, Elvis. I have something good going with Frank."
"Frank? Darlin’ you only met him a few weeks ago,” he argued in exasperation. “He don’t know you like I do."
"And whose fault is that? Elvis, you made it clear I didn’t have a place in your life anymore."
"Y/N, please, I’ll do anything to get ya back."
"Can you just leave?" you asked, getting choked up by the words you’d dreamed him saying over and over for weeks.
"No, I did that before, and it’s the stupidest mistake I ever made."
"Look, I have to go. Congrats on the new single," you said, running off of the court and back over to Frank.
"Hey, are you alright?" Frank asked, putting his arm around you.
"He said he wanted to get back together," you said, your breath shaky. "That it was the stupidest thing he ever did, breaking up with me. I wanted to just say yes, but—"
"I know," he said softly. "If Cynthia did the same thing, I think I’d go back."
You sniffled. "We’re a couple of idiots, huh?"
"Seems like it," he said. “We’d be perfect together if it weren’t for that.”
You laughed, putting your head on his shoulder as he walked you over to the group, where you said goodbye before leaving with him in his car. Elvis watched the display of affection you showed Frank, feeling jealous yet again.
He shouldn’t have followed Frank’s car back to your place, he knew that. But seeing Frank walk you up to your front door, the two of you talking quietly for a few moments before you kissed Frank’s cheek, bidding him goodbye made Elvis feel like lava was running through his veins. It wasn’t even a real kiss, but he punched the steering wheel in frustration nonetheless.
He watched as you walked into your house, turning to wave at Frank one more time from the doorway before heading in. Frank lingered on the doorstep for a moment before going back to his car. As Frank pulled away, Elvis wondered what was so special about Frank. You’d only known him for a few weeks, but it seemed like you were close. Did he treat you right? Did he think about you all the time? Did he love you?
Elvis hadn’t realized how long he’d been sitting in his car until he glanced down at the clock on the car dashboard. Chewing his bottom lip, his eyes moved back and forth from the keys in the ignition to your darkened bedroom window. Finally, he grabbed his keys and got out of his car.
He stood on your front lawn, trying to figure out how exactly he was going to get up to your room. He’d never sneaked in through your bedroom window before, your parents had liked him enough that they let him come in any time of day. Now, he figured if he knocked on the front door, your dad would kill him.
The lattice on the side of the house went only halfway to your room, which meant he’d have to grab a tree branch and maneuver over. He’d do it, though. You were worth the possibility of falling out of a tree and breaking his neck.
You were half asleep when you heard tapping on your bedroom window. Ignoring it as the wind, you closed your eyes—until you heard the window sliding open. You sat up, reaching for the lamp on your nightstand, ready to shout for your parents.
“Y/N? You up?” Elvis said before climbing through the open window.
“Elvis Aron Presley, get the hell out of my bedroom! What are you doing?” you whisper-yelled, throwing a pillow at him.
“Somethin’ wild and spontaneous to show my love for you?” he offered weakly. “I had to see ya, Y/N. The past two months have been miserable. I can hardly sleep because I spend so much time thinkin’ about you. Food don’t even taste the same. It’s like everything got the good taken out of it. Maybe I deserve that much, but I’d do anything for a second chance.”
“A second chance,” you repeated. “You made me feel like no one could love me, and just when I thought I could make something work with Frank, you come back here and ask me to trust you to not put me through that again.”
“Darlin’, I swear on my life I won’t.”
“How could you do that to me? Like I didn’t even matter! Like I wasn’t there where you were still that kid too afraid to sing with the lights on! And the fact that you let some stranger talk you into dumping me like I was last week’s garbage. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? I could barely function for weeks! Then I meet someone who has the same hurt I do, and now you want me to hurt him? Who do you think you are?” you ranted, finally taking a breath.
“Tell me you love him. If you tell me you love Frank, I promise I won’t ever bother you again,” he said.
Your lip trembled. You wanted him to feel as dejected as you had, say it just for spite, but you couldn’t do it. Perhaps part of you did love Frank, but you knew you’d never be completely happy together. Not when he was just as hung up on Cynthia as you were on Elvis, no matter how hard either of you tried.
“I love you,” you whispered.
He wrapped his arms around you, crying into your shoulder. “I love you so much, baby. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s going to be a while before I can really trust you again though.”
Lifting his head, he nodded, tears tracked down his reddened cheeks. “I’ll earn it back. I’ll make sure you can be on tour with me. I’m gonna tell the whole world you’re mine, album sales be damned.”
“Well, I’ll believe that when I see it,” you scoffed, knowing the Colonel wouldn’t allow it.
“First thing in the morning, I’m callin’ every newspaper and radio station in the city myself,” he promised. “Hell, I’ll walk right into one of those tattoo parlors on Beale Street and get your name over my heart.”
You smiled, putting a hand on his chest. “Easy, cowboy. Papers and radio are fine for now.”
He nodded. “I wish I’d known you wanted to dance,” he said, repeating his sentiment from earlier. “You looked so graceful.”
“I didn’t before,” you answered honestly, “but thank you.”
He got up from your bed, leaving you confused as he looked through your record collection. It had changed since he was last in your room. Previously blues and gospel albums outnumbered any other genre, but the Latin music was getting close.
“What are you trying to find?” you asked.
“Somethin’ good, so you can show me how to dance with you,” he said.
“You don’t know what to look for,” you said, getting up from your bed. It didn’t take you long to grab a single that you knew would be perfect. I’m in the Mood for Love.
In whispers, you explained the steps to him, trying to remember what Miss Louann had demonstrated on the first day of class. The two of you giggled over the soft music while he tried to follow your instructions.
“C’mon, Elvis, I know you don’t have two left feet,” you teased.
“Hard to concentrate when I got such a beautiful partner,” he said, almost bashfully. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” you said. “But you have to dip me.”
“Dip you?”
“You know, tilt me back while we’re dancing,” you explained while dropping the needle back at the beginning of the song.
“I can do that,” he said, holding out his hand for you.
He did well remembering the steps, the two of you dancing in an intense silence. At the perfect moment, the one you were thinking of, he dipped you back, his soft lips meeting yours. This time, it was magical, perfect even. You felt the butterflies in your stomach again. When you pulled away, looking into his eyes that shone with nothing less than adoration, you knew you made the right decision.
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Words: 4,162
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Reader pronouns: she/her
Era: S10/S11, The Reapers
Warnings: language, mentions of injury
A/N: This is part of a series! You can find the rest on my Master List, the pinned post on my blog.
Summary: Injured and scattered, the group tries to find each other.
Your name: submit What is this?
Daryl,
Our son is two years old today. You wouldn’t believe how much he’s changed in only the last few months. It used to be that you could only make out baby babble with a few words here and there, and now he’s stringing together full sentences, expressing his own original thoughts. He looks less like a toddler every day and more and more like a little kid, soon to be asking questions about the world that will be harder and harder for me to answer. He reminds me of you in so many ways and I hold onto this part of you extra tight. When I think of how much you’ve missed of his little life, of all the milestones we’ve already passed, every part of me aches, and to know he’s missed out on having you too... that hurts even worse. I know you would be the most amazing dad. You love as fiercely as anyone could.
When I think of you at all, it nearly stops me to a grinding halt, could bring me to my knees, the pain is still that sharp. If we never find each other again, I think I’ll walk around forever with this poignant sense of something profound missing. It’s hard to write this, but if it wasn’t for DJ, I may have given up by now… But if I know anything, it’s that you’re out there somewhere, still alive, still surviving, still protecting the people you love. I know that beyond any doubt, because that’s who you are. I just hope that in our continued wandering that we find some sign of you. I don’t know what it would be—but Jen keeps telling me not to give up hope, to trust that my intuition is right.
I’m not having that dream anymore—the one I wrote about before where you’re calling for me from the other side of the glass—but lately I’ve been having a new one. I find you again, out in the woods, wandering, and then the next moment you’ve vanished. It’s almost worse than the last dream, because I think I have you and then a moment later I lose you all over again. It feels so unbelievably real. I wake up completely gutted with my cheeks wet. I have to reach for DJ every time.
God, I miss you.
It’s hitting me hard today, on DJ’s birthday. I hope you’re safe wherever you are…
With love,
Y/N Daryl was mentally running through the parts of your book he’d already read, and wishing he’d made the time to read more, but he was also thanking himself for not bringing it along. He was certain The Reapers had gone through his pack. He didn’t know what would have happened if Leah had found it… She’d know he’d found you again and then all of this—his pretended disconnection from “those people on the road” and the implied feelings he was manufacturing for her—it wouldn’t have been available for him to try to keep his family and Alexandria safe.
His hand strayed to the left breast of his vest and he could feel the stiffness of the picture in the lining. It was comforting. He hadn’t slept. He was too afraid to. His mind was too busy. He laid on his back on a cot, far off in a corner, and waited.
It had to be near first light when he heard bootsteps coming up the hallway outside. He turned his ear toward the sound, listening intently for anything else that could signal what was happening.
Carver showed up in the doorway. “Get up, dickhead,” he spat. “We’re moving on that info.”
_ _ _ _ _ _
A hand on your shoulder shook you awake and you startled at the sudden jolt.
“Easy.” Negan’s voice. His hazel eyes were looking right into yours beneath his raised eyebrows. The point of your blade was at his throat.
You let out the breath you’d been holding and lowered it.
Negan was in front of you, palms out. He relaxed as your knife left his neck. “I’m a little worried that reflex isn’t going to stop short one of these times,” he said.
You shifted so you could better sit up against the back of the dingy armchair. “Then stop surprising me,” you said. You winced as you moved and couldn’t help drawing in a sharp hiss of breath between your teeth. Your side, the knife wound from The Reapers, felt like it was on fire. “Fuck…” you murmured, shifting to attempt to relieve the worst of the pain to little success.
Negan’s brow furrowed. “How ya feelin’?” You thought you could hear genuine concern in his voice.
You shook your head. “Not at my best, but I’ve had worse,” you said.
He went on frowning at you. He swept a hand back over his short hair. “I don’t doubt it but, uhh, no offense… you look like shit. I don’t think the whole pale, graying skin thing suits you at all. I woke you up because I was starting to get a little paranoid that you might not wake up.”
You rolled your eyes. “Stop being so dramatic,” you scolded him.
Negan gave you a small tight smile despite the situation. “Can’t. Drama. Theater… It’s kind of my thing,” he retorted. He watched as you pulled your shirt up to look at the wound on your side. The surrounding area and the wound itself were an angry shade of red.
Negan saw it. “Well, fuck. That doesn’t look good.”
You closed your eyes for a moment and leaned back against the chair. You’d flushed the stab wound out as best you could and applied ointment but it didn’t seem to have been enough. “No shit,” you said. “Any other earth-shattering observations you want to hit me with?”
Negan let out a dry laugh and straightened up, grabbing his crowbar from where it was leaning against a dusty couch and swinging it absently. “You know, I am actually trying to help you here. You see anybody else around?”
You sighed. “Right. Right… Sorry. Just—this whole situation is—”
“Complete and utter-fucked, five ways ‘til Friday bullshit?” Negan finished for you.
You gave him a long look but eventually nodded. “Yeah.” You pulled your shirt up again and looked at the neatly stitched wound. Negan had helped you with that the night before, and you had to hand it to him that he’d done a good job. “It’s a local infection or the start of one,” you said softly. You paused to think. You had limited medical supplies left and had used the last of the antibacterial ointment the night before patching up your side and Negan’s leg.
“Alright, so, can we kick its ass before it becomes un-local? From what I hear, that’s something to avoid, what with the lack of hospitals and meds these days.”
You chewed anxiously on your bottom lip. The burning and pulse you could feel in your whole side made it hard to think. “Hopefully…”
He stared at you for a long moment, his expression darkening like a cloud passing across the face of the moon. “You have a fever?” he asked, and you heard some apprehension in his voice.
You shook your head. “I don’t think so.” You mopped at the cold sweat on your brow even as you answered, but you were pretty sure that was just from the pain.
Negan cleared his throat and stepped closer hesitantly. “Can I check without you slitting my throat?” he asked. “I’ve actually already had that done, courtesy of Rick, and it isn’t something I’d like to repeat.”
“Fine.”
He bent his tall frame and put the back of his hand on your forehead. He shook his head and let out a hugely relieved sigh. “No. No, I think you’re good.” You gave him a questioning look. “I had the thought that maybe they’d coated their blades… so that anyone that didn’t die right away would go full-blown undead asshole.”
You fixed a steely stare on him. “Oh, you mean like you did. To the Hilltop.”
Negan gulped and his face fell. His eyes turned down to the floor. “Maggie told you about that, huh?” he said softly.
“Mhm…”
“Yeah. That was pretty fucked up.” He was still avoiding your eyes. “But it was effective...”
“Negan—” you started angrily.
“Hey, I’m just stating a fact! And to be fair, it was a fucking war! I was looking after my own the same way—” he broke off abruptly at the look on your face.
You shook your head. “No. Not the same way I do. Not the same way they were. Not even close.”
“So, you’re telling me that you’ve never done anything royally fucked up to keep yourself or people you care about alive? Hmm? Doll,” he said, swinging his crowbar up onto his shoulder, a smirk on his face, “I ain’t buyin’ it.”
You scowled at him. “Don’t call me ‘doll.’ In fact, let’s just table any more nicknames you’ve got floating around in your head. And let’s get one thing straight, Negan. You didn’t care about those people at The Sanctuary. You gave them barely enough to stay alive and it wasn’t even a life. The only person you actually gave a shit about was yourself. And have I done fucked up shit? Yeah. Plenty. To keep me and my son alive… not to set myself up as some sort of wannabe god to assuage my bloated ego,” you spat at him, wincing and putting a hand over your side again and shutting your eyes.
There was a tense pause and then Negan rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and another small laugh escaped him. “I can’t really argue with most of that. You’re right. And I see that Maggie and Daryl have been pretty thorough in catching you up already.” He sighed and sank back down on the wooden chair across the room from you. “But none of that shit matters right now. So, what do we do about your tidy little ticking time bomb there? You have any more of that—”
“No, we used almost everything up last night,” you interrupted him.
Negan laughed humorously. “Now let me make something clear here; you’ve gotta be okay,” he said emphatically. “If something happens to you while you’re with me, Daryl will fucking murder me. That is not an exaggeration. No, he won’t just murder me—he’d probably carve off little pieces slowly. He isn’t gonna hear that it wasn’t my fault. So, for your health and mine,” Negan said, fiddling with the crowbar across his knees, “we’ve got to figure this out. So, what do I need to do? You obviously can’t go anywhere fast at the moment, which is really what we need.”
Your ground your teeth together and Negan saw the muscle in your jaw tense. “You’re going to have to find me some moss and get us some water and fuel for a fire.” Negan stared at you blankly.
“Sorry, did you say fucking moss?”
You nodded. “Yeah. A specific kind. I’m gonna tell you where it grows and what it looks like.” You pulled your pack closer and dug around inside it until you pulled out a small cloth bag and held it out to him.
“Is now the right time for a scavenger hunt?” he asked, but he got up and accepted the bag from you.
“A lot of mosses have antimicrobial properties that should fight the infection and—look, just do what I’m fucking asking, okay? Or I can go myself. Like I said, I’ve had worse,” you started getting out of the chair, pushing yourself up on the arms but the pain in your side seemed to ricochet through the rest of your abdomen and chest and you quickly froze, only partially standing.
“Whoa!” Negan grabbed your upper arm and helped you lower back down into the seat. His leg didn’t feel great, but it was definitely better than your side. “I’ll get it! Fuck, just sit the fuck down,” he shook his head at you. “I can see why you and that pain in the ass Daryl are together. Stubborn with an attitude,” he said with some amusement. “Moss. Water. Fuel. I can handle that. Just tell me what I need to know…”
You did. And Negan set out and returned a couple hours later with all of it.
Soon you had a fire going in one corner near a broken-out window, any smoke trailing up and out—though you’d made sure all the fuel was dry as a bone so it wouldn’t lead The Reapers straight to you. The water had finished boiling and was sitting to cool a bit. Negan was watching you with interest from his seat again as you cleaned as much debris out of the moss as you could.
Negan was casually peeling the bark off a stick, sitting on the stiff wooden chair and watching you work. “Are you going to tell me what the deal is with you and Daryl or what?” he asked.
Your eyes flickered up to his face for a moment and you paused, completely still. Then you went back to what you were doing. “No,” you said simply.
“Ahh, come on. What the hell else are we gonna talk about? I’m dying to know how exactly he ended up having a kid he didn’t seem to know about. Especially one that looks to be about ten years old.”
You tossed the handful of debris you’d been picking out of the moss into the fire. “I’m sure you are. But you’re the last person I’m going to discuss my personal life with, Negan.”
Negan sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Come on. It’ll pass the time!”
You fixed your gaze on him for a long moment. “I’ll give you one question,” you said, dusting off your hands.
“Hot damn!” Negan grinned. “I better make it a good one… Hmm. Let’s see…” A smirk grew on his face. “So, are you guys fucking again? I mean what’s the current status?”
“Negan!” you barked back at him angrily, color flaring in your face. He only chuckled.
“It’s just a question! Anybody can see the guy is head over heels. That was obvious by the way he looked like he was mentally dismembering me anytime I came within ten feet of you.”
You only glared at him. “Do me and yourself a favor and shut the fuck up,” you growled. You collected the moss and plunged some of it into the still warm water and let it soak for a few seconds. Then you removed it and wrung most of the water out. Negan watched with interest as you packed it over the wound in your side and secured it around your body with a long makeshift bandage you’d fashioned from a spare flannel you’d had stowed in your pack.
“That’s gonna fight off infection?” Negan asked, interested. “Seems counter-intuitive to stick some dirty shit you found outside right over a wound.”
“It’s not dirty. And yes, hopefully. Long before we had modern medicine, plants were doing what doctors and pills used to,” you said, climbing to your feet and sinking back into the armchair again with a sigh.
“How the hell did you learn this?” Negan asked, digging in his pack for his MRE and tearing off the top.
You shrugged. “Aren’t we all picking up new things all the time? One of my people, from my last community, knew a lot about medicinal and edible plants. I paid attention.”
Negan nodded, scooping another bite into his mouth. “So, we gotta just wait now?”
You nodded. “Just have to let it do its job.” You sunk back more heavily into the chair and closed your eyes, but they were only shut a moment before Negan’s voice broke the silence again.
“You’re really not going to tell me about you and Daryl?”
Your eyes opened. “No. I’m not.”
He sighed. “What if I tell you about my wife?” he said softly.
Your brow furrowed. “Which one?” you asked sharply.
“The real one.”
_ _ _ _ _ _
The next morning, you woke up gently. Negan was already awake, standing at one of the dingy windows, staring thoughtfully outside. He turned when he heard you shifting. “You’re looking better,” Negan commented.
You stood and moved without pangs of pain and sighed with relief. Unbinding your bandage and peeling the poultice from the wound, you saw that the redness was gone and it was no longer inflamed. The moss had done its job. You applied fresh, dry moss over the stitches and rebound the bandage.
Negan wandered over, watching you closely. “You good?”
You looked up and nodded. “Yeah.” You paused. “Thanks. For your help yesterday with getting all that stuff.” He nodded once. You slung your pack up onto your shoulder. “Come on. We’ve gotta get to that house. Maybe the others are waiting there.”
“You can’t be serious,” Negan said, nearly stepping in your way as you moved toward the door. “You want to keep going? We don’t even know if anyone else made it.”
You started to unbarricade the door with a grunt of effort. “They did,” you said matter-of-factly.
Negan shook his head. “You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do!” you snapped at him, standing up straight. For the first time, Negan saw something like desperation in your eyes. “They made it,” you said firmly, but he heard the shake in your voice. “Now, help me move this…”
Negan looked at you for a long moment and then sighed and pushed the heavy oak desk out of the path of the door.
_ _ _ _ _ _
Maggie, Gabriel, and Elijah waited in silence. The air was heavy with anxiety and Maggie found herself alternately pacing the length of the room and then standing frozen at the window, peering out through the wooden slats. Through the narrow space, she saw figures moving on the street outside but it was difficult to see through the leaves of the shrubs close to the house. “I got movement comin’ up on this side.”
Elijah stood and went to another window near the front door. His knife was in his hand.
“Oh my God. Oh, thank God,” Maggie suddenly sighed. “It’s alright. It’s Negan and Y/N,” she said, happy tears in her eyes.
A moment later, Elijah pulled the door open and the two of you stepped into the dilapidated interior, Maggie rushed over and grabbed you in a hug. “Thank God you’re alright,” she said.
You tightened your free arm around her, bow in your hand at your other side. “You too. All of you,” you said, looking at Elijah and Gabriel as she broke away, but at the same moment your heart sank. “Daryl?” you asked, your brow furrowing and casting a shadow over your momentary relief at seeing the others.
Maggie shook her head. “We don’t know. We haven’t seen Daryl or Frost. Alden’s hurt bad. I left him someplace safe,” she said, her voice breaking. “Agatha. Duncan. They’re gone...”
You hung your head and closed your eyes for a long moment. “Fuck…” Your knuckles shone white as you gripped riser of your bow hard. “Goddammit… I’m so sorry.”
She nodded solemnly and then scrutinized you and Negan more closely. “How are you two?”
You moved farther into the house and stood beside the small stash of supplies. “We took a little damage but I think we’ll be fine. What’s the plan?” you asked, getting straight back to your purpose.
“We’ll wait a little longer for Daryl and Frost, in case they’re tryin’ to get here. But then we have to move. It’s not too far to Meridian from here.”
Negan let out a small scoff and paced away in a small circle, rubbing a hand over his forehead.
Maggie bristled. “Somethin’ you wanna say?”
“Maggie, look at us. We’re hurt. There are only four of us. One more encounter like the one we just had and that number is going to drop to zero.”
“People back home are dependin’ on us. Hungry kids. If we can’t make this work, Alexandria is done.”
Negan sighed and leaned back against the wall, but he stayed quiet.
“So, unless you’ve gotta somethin’ helpful to add, just keep your mouth shut for once in your life,” she snapped at him.
“Hey—” Elijah said suddenly. “Something’s up.” _ _ _ _ _ _
The heavy bootsteps overhead seemed to press on your ear drums as the Reapers moved through the house. Your heart was hammering in your throat. Then suddenly—Daryl’s voice. You clapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from gasping with relief. Alive. He was alive. He was okay. But then your stomach plummeted into the pit of your stomach. But why was he with them?
It didn’t take long for you to realize what was going on. A voice. A woman. “You’re either with us, or you’re not.” Leah. It had to be Leah. It was the only thing that made sense.
Your chest tightened and it was harder for you to draw in even shallow breaths. You closed your eyes, straining your hearing. Daryl again. “What do you want me to do?”
Then it was obvious; Daryl was dropping as much info as he could to you hiding below. 20 people. Weapons. Supplies. Walls. And then he was picking a fight on purpose with this “Carver” asshole.
“Shaw. Wake. Up. Everything is a test now,” Carver spat. “If you think this guy is ever going to give a shit about any of us, you’re gonna fail.”
“He’s right,” Daryl said quickly. “I don’t give a shit about any of you. Except you.” You felt a sharp pain between your lungs. “I’m here for you. It’s no secret I made mistakes. But I’m here right now.”
You were trying to suppress a rising wave of nausea. You could feel Maggie and Negan looking your way and you ducked your eyes, kept them down-turned to the cement of the cellar floor. A second later, Maggie touched you on the sleeve and tilted her head toward the cellar door. With Daryl distracting Leah and Carver, you snuck away, but the painful bubble in the middle of your chest stayed with you.
When you were finally safely away from the town the Reapers had been combing, Maggie stopped all of you. “We can stop for a minute,” she said, out of breath just like the rest of you from rushing through the woods. “We’re getting’ close. About three miles out.”
Negan let out a disbelieving laugh again, but you silenced him with a look. Maggie turned to you and touched you on the arm and spoke to you in a soft undertone. “You know Daryl was only sayin’ those things to—”
“I know,” you interrupted her, nodding, but your face was downturned. It still felt like a knife was lodged upward between your lungs. Listening in on that, Daryl saying those things to another woman, to her, had been excruciating. You hadn’t even realized how much so until you were out of the immediate danger. They seemed to ring in your head. “I’m here for you.” “I made mistakes.”
Maggie frowned softly. “Y/N, you and DJ are his whole life. I was there. I saw it. I saw how he was after. We almost lost him when he lost you. And then he never gave up on you. He never stopped searchin’. Whoever she is, she’s nothin’ to him compared to you. Believe that. Trust it.”
You gulped and nodded again and managed to give her a forced smile, though the worry line stayed between your brows. “What’s the plan for taking care of these assholes?”
You all turned as sticks cracked nearby. Walkers were wandering in. Everyone fingered their weapon but Maggie stopped you. “Wait,” she said, looking at more following behind out of the trees. She glanced back at the group of you. “Think we can find more?”
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon twd#the walking dead#twd fanfics#daryl dixon drabbles#daryl imagines#daryl x y/n#fanfics#writers of tumblr#twd drabbles#daryl x you#twd reader insert
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Phantom bride event-Seeing you in formal wear (suit/wedding dress/whatever) Pt. 1
Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit, Jack Howl
Self-aware au
I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!
WARNINGS: Yandere themes, obsession, possessiveness, violence, marriage, murder
Leona never thought that he would be touched by a person wearing a specific piece or multiple specific pieces of clothing
But nu-uh! He is barely hanging there
So you are there even after all of them failed to make miss blue bride fall in love with them
And then our local neighborhood lion bluescreens
Reason for that? Well... he might have had that fantasy when he was still younger to marry the esteemed Overseer at some point of his life
U know, like those imaginary crushes kids have because they still don't know what love really is just with him being neglected and all of that... ouch
Later on he became more mature and knew that he couldn't marry a person who was basically worlds apart from him but... you don't need to want things consciously, the subconscience is also a thing
So then you walk in, all black or white and his soul just left his body
May or may not he definitely will remember this moment for all eternity
Like, he imagines himself at the other end of the way, dressed in clothes for a wedding himself...
And then he questiones if the food Ruggie brought him earlier was poisoned and he starts to hallucinate
He doesn't want to admit that those are his and only his thoughts alone
The entire time ha can't take his eyes off of you
But then he realizes that he could never marry you in such a way because there would simply be too many eyes on you
The only reason why he hasn'ttired to bite Vil who stands besides him is because technically, this isn't even his own wedding and because you are doing this to fool the princess
I would recommend being careful after this because who knows how long he can endure before he snaps and forces you to marry him for real?
If you were anybody else and he wouldn't be in such a situation he would have criticized how little work you put into yourself
That suit isn't tailored to fit perfectly and your hair also isn't styled and your makeup!!! You done even wear any at the moment!!!
In other words: under normal circumstances he would have slapped you for being neglectful on such a special day
But now he is questioning how what color of eyeshadow would match your clothing on your wedding
You think he wouldn't try to get you to fall for him after you came into his world??! Think careful sweety!
He has already planned what flowers to get, your wedding venue and the champa- ah yeah this is a blog also for minors... *ahem* “refreshments” you would drink on that day
If he could move then he would call that one designer specialized on clothing for weddings which no normal person could finance
The second that “damn spoiled brat” would squeal and say that you are perfect he rips the clothing apart within his mind
This belongs to him and him only!
He has worked until his family told him to keep it easy or else he would collapse just to be somewhat good on the eye for you!
And what has she done??! Sitting at a window and starting out whilst dreaming about her prince charming with that damned dog and a white horse which could sing and much more!
If she wasn't dead already then he would make sure that would be the case
He is mad
So all he can do is just stare and curse in his mind (u think he would say that? Nah he has to keep up appearances) whilst reminding himself to search later for ways to exorcise ghosts
Safe to say that he won't let anyone see you after your wedding in the future (which will happen) simply out of jealousy and if someone does then... he is good with potions you know?
Just don't ask where he got your size to to a T. Just... don't...
I think Jack would have already known that he would like to marry at some point at his life
He just didn't know that the subject could make him feel so much like he wanted to rip someones head off
Until now he didn't even spare it much thought
Just that he would most likely live in a nice little cottage in the woods whilst being happy
And as you might have realized, this doesn't include feral, head ripping off, absolutely dangerous wolf
But Jack can control himself! I think
Truth to be told, he might be a better impersonation of the wolf from red riding hood instead of his role in Savannaclaw
You know, with all that eating other people up and that...
At this point the nanny should have said “thank goodness we are already dead” instead of weeping about it because... yeah sharp teeth you get me
But let's talk about his reaction when he saw you
Just head in the clouds, flying higher than cloud nine (probably at ninety)
But then he remembered that you are proposing to someone else who isn't himself and now I start to think that the title “red riding hood” should have rather been “blue riding hood”
There isn't much to say, just pure anger, madness and bloodlust
But he does like you in that clothing
Suits you and makes him realize that those kind of shoes should probably not be worn at your wedding with him because you are shaking so much in them
The man over here doesn't realize that this is the case because you are 50% scared of turning into a removable observer and 50% scared of the look in his eyes
So uh... red roses or lilies? What? I'm just asking. There is no way you can escape a wedding with him in the future after this.
#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twst#yandere twisted wonderland x reader#yandere twst x reader#self aware au#yandere leona#yandere leona x reader#yandere leona kingscholar#yandere vil#yandere vil schoenheit#yandere vil x reader#yandere jack howl#yandere jack x reader#yandere jack#tw: yandere#tw: obsession#tw: possessiveness#tw: violence#tw: marriage#tw: murder
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hi everyone! i hope january has been kind to you and that february will be even kinder. just a few quick updates:
i haven’t remade yet and honestly im thinking that i’m not going to (so if you reached out for my new url please know im not ignoring you!). ive opened the app and lurked a little from time to time but honestly not posting / generally staying away from tumblr and other social media has definitely made a noticeable difference w my mental health. i am still very much struggling w depression but spending majority of my time touching grass has genuinely helped a lot 🥲 i still have a LOT of recovery to do but ithink im in a much better place now than i was when i made that post last month and im (nervously) hopeful that i’ll never be in a headspace that dark again. as much as i miss it here and am sad to not be as in touch w my mutuals anymore, i really think it’s the best choice for me right now. but im still “here” and i may drop in from time to time to say hi just like im doing rn!
also i have a VERY exciting update i want to share: im finally moving out!!!!!!! into my own apartment!!!!!! in less than a month!!!!!!!!! im SO excited and scared and stressed and relieved and proud of myself. and even though im stepping away from tumblr for the foreseeable future and took this huge step without talking about it here, i truly couldn’t have done this w/o all of the encouragement and comfort so many of you have given me over the years when i needed it most. it feels overdramatic / cringe / etc to say in part bc it was an unhealthy coping mechanism for me to share it all and seek relief in the way i did, but im truly so grateful to everyone who has borne witness to the some of the hardest and most formative moments along my journey. it hasn’t been an easy path at all but it has really, truly eased the hardship of it to know im not alone and there are ppl who have been through / are going through similar things. thank you for helping to light my way 💗 im considering starting a tinyletter / substack / etc (basically an email newsletter / blog) focused on what i will (hopefully) be learning and discovering as i build this new life for myself, so if you’re interested in that please send me an ask! again, im not sure if im actually going to do it… but just like w potentially making a new tumblr someday, i’ll send a link to anyone who’s interested if and when i do decide to go for it 🥹
that’s all for now! im wishing each of you a fabulous february 🫂❣️🐈☕️
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