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missmaywemeetagain · 1 year

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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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zcottwhathuh · 2 years

Text

OK SO WAIT

FOR ALL THOSE THAT ARE HERE FOR THE PUNCH OUT CONTENT.

THIS CAME TO ME OUTTA NOWHERE BUT IDC

(this post is long as fuck, if you don't wanna read, just scroll a bit,)

The other boxers go to Joe's apartment in Paris because he hasn't really been in many matches for a while.

They don't see him in the living room, sipping on cheap wine and actively enjoying bad French TV shows like he usually is, instead they find him in the room that was always empty, now decorated with Clay and Paints, he seems to be sculpting a Bust, of someone.

His hands are kind of messy with water and clay. They then look to the photo in his hands. It's a photo of Mac and him, at the end of Mac's first match against Joe. He looks to his side and notices everyone and nearly jumps out of his seat. Bear Hugger is the only one who knows French, so he asks what Joe's doing and why he hasn't been in many matches for a while. Joe says he hasn't been in any matches because it's getting to be too much, and his doctor told him that he may need to find another hobby, for the sake of his own health. He says even if he can't box, he'll still be there for the matches. He says the career wasn't really getting him anywhere, anyway, with his 1-101 win-to-loss ratio. (the extra one is from Gabby Jay fucking him up in his own school.) He says the sculpture was supposed to be a surprise and that it is, indeed, Mac. Eventually he was going to make the other boxers, but thought it only fair to make Mac the first one since he fucked everyone up, and thought that was impressive. Bear Hugger translates to everyone, and obviously, they're all pretty sad about it. They loved hanging out with Joe, and learning all about the culture of France, and all that jazz. Joe explained that they hadn't seen the last of him yet, and how just because he wasn't a boxer anymore didn't mean they couldn't be friends. He would still come to the matches, and he wasn't just gonna up n go, and how he'd still hang out with them, in broken English.

"Probably was not a good idea to put my weakness out in my name, live and learn, I guess." He says.

He gets up and hugs all of them, and gives them all little keychains he made out of clay, specialized for all of them.

"Those were my experiments. With clay, I mean. I ended up liking them. They're all yours. I'll never forget you."

More than half of them end up crying. The others have tears forming but they're holding them back. Even Aran Ryan has small tears in his eyes. Sandman and Von Kaiser are both holding onto him and sobbing. Big Guy's got a big heart, what can he say. Von Kaiser... Von Kaiser is trying his best to form words, but he's... He's having a hard time, but he's getting there.

Meanwhile Joe is holding onto them and shushing them like a mom, laughing to himself. He explains that, again, it's for his health, and he really does not want to drop dead in the middle of the ring, thank you very much.

They understand, and Sandman gets off of him, while Joe grabs a tissue box with his newly freed hand, passing it to Sandman. Von Kaiser is determined to make Joe change his mind, though. Joe does not. Eventually, he gives up. But makes Joe PROMISE to show up to all of their meet-ups, boxer or not.

"I guess, if it'll get you off of me."

They leave, all feeling better. Joe goes back into the room where he was sculpting, and continues. He laughs to himself, and takes a moment to look at the photo on the wall. All the WVBA's Best (haha, sure.) Boxers standing next to eachother, smiling. He smiles fondly, then goes back to his chair, finishing his sculpture. He gets a text from Aran. It's a photo of them all crying on the plane back. Including Aran himself.

(aran being < and Joe being >)

<you asshole.)

(I'm sorry that you all are crybabies. Thursday, right?>

<yeah. Careful. I might punch you in your stupid face.)

(you better not. then I could charge you for assault.>

<eeh, I should already be in jail anyway, with the stunts i pull in the ring. See you Thursday, im tired as shit and can't keep my eyes open.)

(Goodnight Aran. Tell everyone I'll see you Thursday. I won't miss it for anything. Promise.>

<you'd better keep your promise, joe.)

(i will.>

(SHOULD,, SHOULD I WRITE A FIC ABOUT THURSDAY?? TELL ME,, I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW AHAJKA)

#glass joe #punch out #punch out wii #aran ryan #mr sandman #von kaiser

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taestefully-in-luv · 3 years

Text

The Island | KTH (Eight)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, very slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 10.7k

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension (?) mentions of sex, someone gets punched by someone,

Notes: Enjoy this chapter guys:) Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat about the stories!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @707sblog @peacedreamer14 @dopedreamfireparty @everythingnamjoon @taebae19 @typicalgenzworld @mooniyooni @helenazbmrskai @justinetingball @jpeachytaev @marplest @calling-dips-on-j-hope @lecavivien @fancycollectormoon @mawwnsterr

Previous --- Next

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The room you are in is as cold and empty as you feel. The one single table with 3 chairs, 2 on one side and the one you are currently occupying across from them. The room feels chilling like ghosts haunt it. Maybe they do, you think. The silence is truly deafening and the wait for these 2 other chairs to be filled makes you anxious. It’s been a few months since you have been back here and it makes you uncomfortable each time but you know little by little you are receiving answers.

Finally, after a long wait the heavy door to the room screeches open. And in comes a man and woman in professional clothing—he in a suit and the woman in a dress suit. They smile at you awkwardly like they feel pity. They both pull out their chair and take a seat.

“Have you found it yet? The island?” you’re quick to blurt out and they nervously look at one another before frowning.

“It isn’t that easy unfortunately Miss y/l/n. We’ve been in search of this company for over 50 years.” The woman taps her fingers on the table. “We have yet to find them or this island you speak of.”

You can’t help the scoff that escapes you as you roll your eyes to the side.

“What kind of intel agency is this? You can’t even find some lame ass fucking love company.” You spit out.

The man hardens his eyes at you as he takes a long, deep breath. Obviously trying to gather his patience.

“Here’s what we do know.” He begins. “They tapped your home, your cell, all of your accounts and spied on you for over a year. Doing their…” he pauses, biting his lip. “Research…”

“And drugged you and your parents the night of the kidnapping.” The woman picks up where he left off, “And then they drugged you again to return you home and also your parents…assuming so it wasn’t to wake them while they were in your home…” she gulps…she understands how invasive this all is.

“You didn’t think to set up cameras around my parent’s house? For when they would return me? You didn’t think to keep an eye—”

“We did.” The man clears his throat, “But they….” He drags his hand down his tired face, “This company is smart. They obviously know what they are doing. The night of your return the cameras we had set up miraculously stopped working.”

You can’t help the laughter that erupts from your body. You begin shaking your head in disbelief, your laughter dying when you realize how serious this is.

“This is fucking bullshit.” You say with a tight lip smile. “Anyway…do you…do you guys…did you look into what I asked of you?” your eyes slide to the side as you nervously pull at the ends of your hair.

“The man you were with? Kim Taehyung…yes, we looked into it. We have been working with Korea’s intel in hopes to solve this case. He has been working together with them. I cannot release any personal information though.” The woman eyes her partner and her frown deepens. “Miss y/l/n…I know this is difficult and you two have been through a lot together. But I am sure you can find a way to reach out—”

“I just wanted to know how he is doing is all.” You cut her off, “It’s fine.”

~~~~~

You stare at the letter in your hands, it’s an off white color and the font in quite fancy. Your parents let you see it a few weeks after you returned home but every night you take it in your hands and stare at it. Not knowing how to take it. The company sent it to them the day you disappeared…explaining the company’s goals. They sent photos of you and Taehyung every week to prove you were alive and well. Your parents said this is what kept them sane…trusting you were okay because they couldn’t—wouldn’t accept any other reality.

Your heart aches thinking of what your parents must have been through but not just them…your sister found out through your mom and dad about the situation and she grew so worried without you. When she found out you were returned home she immediately came to you, sobbing in your arms and hasn’t left you since.

You set the letter down and pick up the pile of photos on your night stand…it’s a thick stack. You begin shuffling through them and you feel like someone has stabbed you in the chest with a dull knife and they begin to carve your heart out. It’s slow and painful…they finally take your slow beating heart and squeeze it in their hands, blood spilling and spilling. Killing you.

Some photos are just of you but majority you are accompanied by Taehyung and seeing his smiling face makes you relieve the experience of getting your heart carved out of your chest.

You glance up at your ceiling as tears begin building in your eyes, you try to blink them back, your eyes opening and closing repeatedly. But it’s no use, not when you feel this lost and hopeless. Suddenly, there is knocking on your bedroom door and your father is walking in.

“Ready sweetie? Got the rest of your things?” He steps into the room, a worried expression on his face but he tries to hide it behind a forced smile. “We should get going.”

You quickly sniffle and nod your head, shoving the stack of photos and letter into your backpack before you’re swinging it over your shoulders.

“Yup, ready.”

It’s moving day. Thankfully you found another job in your old town that you lived in, you found a new, better apartment that is close to where you use to live, you finally are getting out of your parents hair.

“Alright let’s get this show on the road!” your dad pats you on the back as you walk past him. He’s got the truck loaded and ready to go for the couple hour drive. Back to the city!

“This place is so much nicer than your last!” Your sister sets a box down on your new kitchen counter, “You actually have a decent sized kitchen! Not that you really cook.” She laughs.

“Hey!” you whine, “I told you I learned quite a bit of cooking while on the island.”

“You also told me that your boyfriend cooked a lot too…so I’ll just assume he did all the work.” She teases and your face falls.

“He isn’t my boyfriend.” Your lips curls so far down that it’s almost comical but alas, it is not because you feel your eyes sting.

“Sorry…” your sister walks to the living room, joining you. She reaches for the box in your arms and sets it down on the floor. “y/n…just message him.”

“…I can’t.” you feel your chest start to burn, “The way things got left…I don’t know how to speak to him.” you admit. “and it’s been so long. If he hasn’t already moved on then he at least hates my guts.”

“Yeah I probably would too.” Your sister nods her head and you swat her arm.

“Thanks Ellie.” You deadpan. “Anyway, I just can’t.”

“He is probably waiting for you…he loves you.”

“You don’t know him?” you laugh quietly, “So how would you know?”

“I’ve seen the pictures of you two, in the moment pictures, and dude, he looks so taken with you in every single one.”

You can’t help the way your heart drops to your stomach. You told him you thought your feeling may not be real…those are some of your last words to him and that kills you. Without a doubt he has had to have moved on from you…why would he torture himself?

Later that night you are snuggled up in your bed with your sister snoozing beside you. You have your phone (Damn you missed this device) and are scrolling through Taehyung’s Instagram. You notice he posted a new group photo just 4 hours ago. You look at all the tags and see all his friends…Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, Hobi, Jimin and Jungkook. But there are also a few girls in the photo. You notice the tag for Hana. You hate that your heart completely stops beating in your chest then suddenly starts racing. Hana. He’s hanging out with Hana? Wait, why are you surprised? You take a deep breath and click her name to view her page and then that’s when your heart really stops. Her most recent photo is of her and Taehyung, their faces smooshed together with wide smiles on their faces with the caption “Missed you.” With pink hearts.

She’s pretty. Really fucking pretty. No wonder Taehyung liked her. Liked? Or likes? Are they together now? They look awfully close. You feel your eyes sting for the millionth time this day and they begin to bubble with tears. This is your fault. You pushed him away, so far away, into another woman’s arms. You start to feel lost and hopeless again…you decide stalking Taehyung through social media probably isn’t the healthiest thing for you or your heart. You continue scrolling on Hana’s page…she has lots of photos with friends, pretty Korean scenery, selfies and more. She looks lively and beautiful, oh so fucking beautiful.

You exit the app and click your phone off. You squeeze your eyes shut and a few pathetic tears that you do not deserve slide out and down your face. You really need to move on, you really need to focus on you. But how can you when a huge part of you feels like it’s been ripped from you? Taehyung was a part of you and you think he still is. You feel crushed, fucking crushed. He is probably with Hana now and you absolutely cannot blame him.

Taehyung is doing fine. Just fine. With or without you. And that reality is setting in and it hurts. It fucking hurts. But you have no one to blame but yourself.

“Why are you doing this, huh? Things were so perfect.” He stops in front of you and pulls you up by the arms. Your chests almost touch from how close you are. “Unless…” he looks down at his feet, “You’re saying all of this because that’s how you feel. You’re the one unsure of your feelings. You’re the one who only likes me—loves me—because there’s no one else.” He looks into your eyes, searching for an answer.

“Maybe.” You finally say. And you wish you didn’t because Taehyung releases a shaky breath and his brows crease together as he forms the saddest smile you have ever seen. The canvas of his life is full of beautiful bright colors but you continue to splatter blue and grey paint all over it. The paint mixes together and drips down, a gloomy mess.

“Oh.” He steps back. “I see.” He takes another step back, carding his fingers through his hair. He looks into your eyes as his gloss over, “I’ll leave you alone then.” And he turns around and walks out of the room, leaving you behind.

Why does this scene replay in your mind every single day. Every single night. His sad, sad expression leaving an ever lasting imprint in your mind. You feel broken, but you also feel angry. How dare the company send you back when you and Taehyung have so much to resolve? What is the purpose? What are their intentions? You ball the sheets in your hands as you release breath after frustrated breath. What was the point of all this? Somewhere deep in your gut you feel like this isn’t over. You feel like the company still has some ties to you…you can’t explain it…just a gut feeling.

To say you hate yourself is an understatement. You truly can’t stand to even look yourself in the mirror. You ruined the best thing that has ever happened to you—Taehyung. But you should be happy, right? He’s doing well. He has his friends, his family, Hana. He is absolutely 100% doing just fine and you have to accept that.

~~~~~

“You can’t live like this dude.” Namjoon throws a trash bag on to Taehyung’s bed, signaling him to use it.

“Yeah…Joon is right.” Jimin starts picking up some trash off the floor…mostly empty food containers. “This is getting out of hand. I know things haven’t been easy—”

Jimin is cut off with Taehyung groaning loudly and dramatically. He lifts his head off his pillow, his face evident with sleep as he eyes his two friends in his apartment.

“Get up.” Namjoon lightly kicks the bed with his foot, “And open a damn window or something.”

“And maybe take a shower. You reek of this hangover I am sure you have…” Jimin sits down on the edge of the bed, his hand going to Taehyung’s back, rubbing it soothingly. “She isn’t coming around Tae.” Jimin says as softly as possible, “She isn’t—”

“We don’t know that.” Taehyung cuts him off, grumbling. “She could.”

“You said it yourself, she isn’t sure of her feelings…why aren’t you letting it go?” Namjoon sits down on the bed as well.

“I know her.” Taehyung begins to sit up from his place in bed, his hand flying up to his pounding head. “Fuck. I’m hungover.” He complains.

“You went too hard last night.” Jimin frowns, “Again.”

“So what? You think she lied to you? That she does love you?”

“She was just scared.” Taehyung whispers. “Trust me, I know her.” He repeats again.

Jimin and Namjoon share a look of pity mixed with concern. Jimin stands from the bed, taking the trash bag with him, he opens it up and starts filling it with the garbage around the apartment. Taehyung just watches Jimin clean up and he starts to feel a sense of guilt. Maybe he has been a handful the last few months.

Taehyung is trying his best though.

The unfamiliar bed along with the unfamiliar room was indication enough that Taehyung was in a place without you. It only took him halves of seconds to realize he was in his parents’ home in their spare room. A place he didn’t frequent very often. But he understood his situation right away. The island returned him home to Korea but suddenly this place feels like the last place like home.

When he made his existence known to his mother and father they cried over and over for their son. His father going on about his regrets, how he wishes he would have supported Taehyung more in following his own dreams and so on. His mother wishing she had cooked his favorite meal more often. They basically took his disappearance on the island as his death. At least that’s how Taehyung sees it.

His parents’ received the letter as well, even the photographs. They know all about you. They know that Taehyung is in love, they know Taehyung heart aches. They know everything. They were honestly rooting for you two…they could see how much love went on between the two of you even through pictures.

But as the days went on, as the weeks went on and as the months went on, Taehyung started to feel like he is withering away with every day that passed that you did not reach out to him. Did your time on the island with him mean nothing to you? Even if you ‘maybe’ weren’t in love with him like you claimed you were still friends for god’s sake. You still without a doubt had a powerful connection.

Things have been hard. Really fucking hard. But nothing is harder than the day when the Korean intel agency notified him that you were good, that you were okay. That you were home. But they could not release any personal information. You were home…you were okay…but you still have not reached out? He’s relieved you’re well but that also comes with the disappointment that you are choosing to stay to yourself.

“Yoongi wants to work on that new song tonight, what do you say?” Namjoon stands from the bed as well and makes his way into the small kitchen for a glass of water.

“Not in the mood.” Taehyung mumbles underneath his breath.

“Listen Taehyung…” Namjoon walks back into the room, his hands crossed over his chest as he looks at Taehyung with narrowed eyes.

“If you’re serious about this, being with her, that is. Then fucking do something about it.” Namjoon continues to stare down at him while Jimin keeps cleaning.

“I don’t have her number, I can’t find her anywhere on the internet and I barely know where she lives. What the fuck can I do?” Taehyung grits out, raising his voice just the slightest as he talks.

“….There has to be something.” Jimin speaks up. “A clue.”

“A fucking clue? What are we? Fucking detectives?” Taehyung throws his hands up, frustrated.

“Jimin’s right.” Namjoon uncrosses his arms and runs a hand through his hair, “She must have mentioned something, anything. You have to think.”

“You think I have the mental capability to think right now?” Taehyung questions with a bitter chuckle. “She doesn’t do much. She never mentioned some grand event she goes to every year, she didn’t mention what school she went to, she didn’t mention what company she worked for, she didn’t fucking mention anything. She stays to herself.” Then Taehyung’s eyes go wide.

“You know I use to go to this coffee place almost every single day. I miss it. That routine. It’s called ------------…a small, family owned shop. Only one of its kind. I would read, write, journal. Just relax. Every day.” You breathe out, missing your comfort spot.

Taehyung rushes to stand from the bed, he is quick to scoop Jimin up in his arms and place a dramatic kiss to his cheek.

“Jimin you fucking genius!” Taehyung suddenly remembered the night you had a panic attack. When you calmed down enough to speak you told him all the things you missed about your real life. Including some coffee place you would frequent on the regular. But he cannot remember the name of it for the life of him.

“What? What?” Jimin starts giggling, “Why?”

“A coffee shop! She used to go to a coffee shop!” Taehyung basically yells in excitement.

“Okay, what’s it called?” Namjoon smiles and immediately Taehyung expression turns sour.

“I…I don’t remember. But it was family owned, only one of its kind.”

Namjoon can’t help the frown that decorates his face but then he tries to smile.

“Better start doing your research lover boy.”

“Cozy Coffee. It’s in (Your city).” Taehyung slams a sheet of paper onto the bar top in front of Namjoon. “I found it.”

“What’d you find?” Jin asks from besides him, “Wait that place y/n goes to?”

Taehyung nods his head quickly with a wide ass smile adoring his face.

“Yup.”

“Now what, kid?” Yoongi brings his beer to his lips as he takes a generous sip. “You going to call that place and ask for her?” he laughs a little.

“No.” Taehyung straightens his back as he speaks. “I’m going there.”

“You’re…” Hobi begins but stops when he sees how serious Taehyung is.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Jungkook starts shaking his head. “This girl—”

“y/n.” Taehyung snaps.

“Right…” Jungkook gulps. “y/n…she ignores you these last 6 months and you are still trying to be with her?”

All of the boys share looks with one another, frowns on everyone’s faces.

“Jungkook is right—”

“Tae told her he would do whatever it takes…he also believes in her feelings. So let’s believe in him.” Jimin cuts in, his hand going to Taehyung’s shoulder and giving him a smile.

“Jimin is right…” Namjoon breathes out, “Let’s trust in our Taehyungie.”

“But don’t forget what she did to you Taehyung.” Jungkook whispers seriously. “You weren’t okay…”

Another day passes and still, nothing from you. Taehyung brings yet another bottle of soju to his mouth as he starts downing it. He feels his world collapsing around him. He feels how everything around him is cracking and breaking apart. But the most cracked, broken thing is him. He looks at himself in the mirror and stares into his empty eyes, these same eyes that used to gaze at you. These same eyes that saw your smile, laugh, cry. These same eyes that undressed you. These same eyes that saw you coming undone over and over. These same eyes.

Taehyung chugs back his drink, his eyes never leaving his reflection as he finishes the bottle. He made a mistake tonight, a drunken mistake but a mistake nonetheless. He slept with Hana. Taehyung, the boys and Hana and her girlfriends were all at the bar tonight and he just doesn’t see her that way. Yet, he was inside her just an hour ago. He slowly closes his eyes, regret and guilt filling his entire being. What the fuck did he do?

His life is all over the place, a mess, if you will. A big, fat messy mess. He got a new apartment, leaving his parents’ house and he doesn’t think he has cleaned it even once since moving in. He drowns in alcohol, he drowns in unfinished songs, he drowns in his friends concerns and mostly? He drowns in you.

He stares at your photographs an unhealthy amount. He has cried over your photos countless times, he has touched himself to them too. Somehow that is more satisfying than the sex he just shared with Hana. The empty fuck he just gave her haunts him in this very mirror. Did he betray you? Have you also fucked someone new? Have you moved on?

Taehyung stares at himself, hating what he sees. You’re doing this to him. He went from being miserably depressed to angry. He’s beginning to blame you for everything with rage. But as much as he wants to hate you—he does want to—he just can’t. He can’t gather that type of energy in your direction. He just can’t.

Hana looks very pretty tonight…she’s been trying extra hard lately, Taehyung thinks. She is always casually got a hand on his arm, she always finds a way to be standing next to him, talking to him, leaning into him. Taehyung isn’t stupid. She wants him still. She apparently dated during the 8 months he was gone but nothing serious came from it. And now here she is, sleeping on his bed as he drinks by himself in his bathroom mirror.

So many different thoughts have gone through Taehyung’s head. Is he hard to love? That’s the main question that came out of all of this. You spent every day with him for 8 months and you weren’t even sure of your feelings. Shouldn’t a person know by then? He’s trying to be understanding…he is trying so fucking hard to understand but how can he? When he is balls deep in love with you and he doesn’t have to question it at all.

He is spiraling, he is being sucked into a darkness that he can’t crawl out of. He looks at himself in the mirror again, his eyes narrowing at his own reflection—disgusted with what he sees. He grips the empty bottle of soju as he feels his eyes wet with tears. He grips on to the bottle harder and harder, tears now leaving his big brown eyes. He growls out, groaning in frustration as he lifts the bottle up and throws it at his mirror. Glass shattering everywhere.

Startled, Hana jumps from the bed and rushes to the loud sound, finding Taehyung just standing lifeless, continuing to eye himself in the broken mirror. He likes what he sees much better. The cracked glass making for a better reflection, a more accurate representation of what he truly sees when he views himself.

“What the fuck?!” Hana yells out, rushing to Taehyungs side. “Are you okay???”

Taehyung walks closer to the mirror and lightly slides his hand down the cracked mirror, his fingers careful not to get cut.

“No.” he answers honestly and quietly. “I’m not.”

“I’m fine, Jungkook.” Taehyung assures him, “At least I will be…when I see her.”

“What if she doesn’t want to see you?” Yoongi says quietly, worried for his friend. He brings his beer to the bar top and stares at the liquid.

“I’ll get to that when I get to that.” Taehyung sighs out…”I can’t let go of this until I know for sure.”

~~~~~~

Settling into your new job has been smooth, thankfully. It’s only been a few weeks but you can say you really like it. Your boss is an older woman, your coworkers seem nice and the work isn’t too taxing. Your apartment is starting to come together as well, only a few more boxes left to unpack. On the outside things are honestly going well…your life looks normal and put together. But on the inside you continue to fall apart.

“Come on!” Ellie whines, “Just give me one little, tiny, juicy detail.”

“Ew, no!” you laugh, “I have nothing to share!”

“Oh, bullshit.” Ellie takes a drag of her cigarette, blowing the smoke the other direction.

You two are sitting on your balcony, watching the evening sun set.

“You are trying to tell me you two didn’t fuck? Not even once?” Ellie gives you a knowing smile and you can’t help but laugh.

“Okay maybe once.”

“I call bullshit again.” Ellie starts to laugh, thrusting her hips forward theatrically, “I bet you two couldn’t keep your hands off each other.”

“Something like that.” You admit shyly.

“I don’t blame you. He looks so hot.” Ellie takes another puff of her cigarette. “What was he like in bed?”

“Ugh, Ellie.” You groan, “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Afraid of getting horny thinking about it?” She chuckles and you roll your eyes.

“Fine, I’ll tell you one thing.” You hold one finger up, giving her a look that says you are serious. Ellie giggles, nodding her head in agreement.

“He’s…big.” You basically whisper.

“He’s what?”

“Shut up, you heard me.” You laugh, “First time I saw it he wasn’t even fully hard and I was impressed.” You smirk, feeling proud of Taehyung’s gorgeous dick.

“Damn girl. Nice.” Ellie nods in approval, “Did he know how to use it?”

“Ugh….yes.” you roll your eyes back, remembering the feel of his cock. “He did. Aaaannnd he is probably using it on his new girlfriend.” You sigh, feeling your heart break piece by piece in your chest.

“What? What do you mean???” Ellie puts her cigarette out in the ash tray, “New girlfriend?”

“Yeah.” You keep it short and simple. “Anyway, I really do not want to talk about him anymore.”

“…Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

You give your sister a sad, small smile and she returns it. You feel your phone buzz in your lap and you go to pick it up, you quite literally feel all the color drain from your face. Your heart stops completely. What the actual fuck? Why is he texting you? Him of all people?

Finally gathering the courage to buy his plane ticket, Taehyung begins packing for his trip. He got a roundtrip flight for one week. He has one week to find you. He’s starting to get nervous, really fucking nervous. He had all this confidence to do this but honestly? Over the last 6-7 months he has become quite insecure. You left him in shambles. He grew weak without you, he grew pathetic in his eyes.

“Make sure you bring plenty of underwear.” Jimin teases, helping Taehyung pack. “You never pack enough and somehow end up going commando.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Taehyung is too nervous to even joke around, he is too nervous to even look at Jimin—his best friend—for more than a second because he is afraid he is going to see right through him.

“You’re nervous.” Jimin blurts out and Taehyung opens his mouth in shock. But should he be? Jimin is his best friend, he can read him like a book.

“Yeah…”

“I think you have every right to be.” Jimin pats him on the shoulder, “You have been through a lot…and so much is unknown.”

“Yeah….” Taehyung agrees, “I feel like I’m walking into this blind.”

“You kind of are.” Jimin admits quietly. “You kind of are.”

“Do you think…I’m making a mistake?” Taehyung sits down on his bed, messing with the blanket between his fingers.

“No.” Jimin answers honestly. “I am probably the one who has heard about y/n the most. I almost feel like I know her.” Jimin laughs, “And I think you’re right. She was scared. This company…fuck that company by the way, this company set you two up and tried to force love on you. Of course that’s going to fuck her up. Of course she is going to have her doubts…you can’t blame her Tae. Yeah, it’s fucked up she hasn’t reached out at all but dude…it’s a tricky situation.”

“I know…” Taehyung’s head falls into his hands, “Fuck…I know.”

“And…” Jimin sits down next to him, “I don’t want you to regret not looking for her, it sucks that it’s you doing everything, I can admit that. I wish she would grow some fucking balls and talk to you but looks like you got to do all the work buddy.”

“Yeah.”

Taehyung checks into some dingy hotel downtown in the city you live, the place is dark, gritty even. But it’s just one of the first places that was affordable that popped up when he was googling places to stay. He doesn’t totally mind, he doubts he will be spending much time in here. He receives his key from the girl at the front desk, she eyes him up and down, obviously liking what she sees.

Taehyung walks down a dark hallway to reach his room—he’s starting to feel like the main character in a horror movie. He reaches his door and unlocks it, opening it and shuffling inside with his luggage. The room smells dusty, the bed is small and the blanket thin. The room is loud with the AC unit blowing freezing air and the dark curtains don’t let in any light whatsoever.

He sets his luggage down on the carpet and sits on the bed…he takes his phone out and sends a text to his group chat that he made it alive.

Namjoon 4:02pm

Good luck man, we’re rooting for you.

Jungkook 4:02pm

Fingers crossed homie

Jin 4:03pm

Bring her back to Korea

Yoongi 4:03pm

He can’t just bring her back Jin

Hobi 4:03pm

I also vote he brings her back with him

Jimin 4:04pm

I agree, I want to meet the infamous y/n

Taehyung 4:04pm

Am I also allowed to vote that I want to bring her back with me?

Taehyung quietly laughs to himself as he clicks his phone off. He lays back on the bed and groans when he feels how hard the mattress is. But it doesn’t matter because he is here on a mission, a mission to find you and he wants to waste no time.

Day 1:

Taehyung wakes up early to grab a bite to eat at the diner next to the hotel, this place doesn’t even offer complimentary breakfast! The audacity. He orders pancakes but they definitely aren’t as good as yours.

Waking up and breathing the same city air you’re breathing makes Taehyung for the first time in 6 months—feel alive. Like being in the same place as you is slowly helping him regain some of his self back. He knows you are here. You live here. You walk these streets, you eat these foods, you breathe this air. The same fucking air he is breathing.

Nothing excites him and makes him more nauseas. He misses you. He wants to see you. But he is afraid at the same time. He’s so fucking terrified. How will you react? Are you okay? Do you really not love him? Have you moved on? Seeing someone new? His mind races as he cuts into these pancakes.

Taehyung pulls out his phone and checks the time…almost 7 am. He needs to hurry to the coffee place…because what if you stop by there on your way to work? Or maybe you don’t work right now and you go there just to chill? He doesn’t know but he knows he won’t miss a chance to see you.

Taehyung finishes up his plate of food and pays. He leaves the diner and starts walking towards Cozy Coffee, only a 15 minute walk. He inhales deeply, hoping to somehow get a whiff of you, he looks at all the flowers on the side of the sidewalks and thinks of you. Would you be interested in a bouquet of flowers? He recalls on your first unofficial first date he gave you a handful of flowers from the island and you liked it. Ugh, what is he thinking? All he needs to be worried about right now is fucking finding you.

Finally, Taehyung makes his way inside Cozy Coffee. It’s a pretty small place but big enough for a handful of people to be occupying the many tables. His eyes scan the area but they don’t come across you. He sighs and heads towards the counter to order a tea and take a seat at a table in the back near the restrooms.

He spends hours here in this spot. The entire day actually. No sign of you. And the owner has to literally escort him out when it is closing time. He walks back to the hotel with his head hanging low, he guesses today wasn’t a day for reading or writing.

Day 2:

These pancakes aren’t bad actually, not the second time around. Yours are still better, of course but he’s getting use to them. Maybe tomorrow he should try something different.

Taehyung walks leisurely towards the coffee shop, he somehow has this idea he might run into you on the street or something. But he doesn’t.

The coffee shop is a little less busy today, Taehyung goes inside, orders his tea and occupies the same table as yesterday. He pulls his backpack to his lap and brings out a notebook and pen, he decides he will work on song lyrics today.

Hours and hours pass, tea after tea is drank and still, no sign of you. Closing time approaches and he is once again, asked to leave. Taehyung nods in understanding, gathers his belongings and walks back to the hotel. Slowly of course, because deep down he thinks he just might run into you.

Day 3:

French toast today…not as good as the pancakes but still, pretty good. He wonders if you can make French toast? You never mentioned it. Taehyung realizes there is still so much he does not know about you. The thought kind of drives him crazy. He wants to know you. Know all of you. Know you better than anyone else.

The walk to the coffee shop is slow and enjoyable. The scenery is pretty as he strolls on the sidewalk, the flowers poking through the cement bring him a small level of joy for the day. Once he enters the shop, the owner gives him a smile. He orders his tea and makes his way to the back table, pulls out his notebook and starts writing his song lyrics.

On my pillow. Can’t get me tired. Sharing my fragile truth. That I hope the door is still open. Cause the window. Opened one time with you and me. Now my forever is falling down. Wondering if you’d want me now.

Taehyung sets his pen down taking a break from writing, he reaches for his tea and takes a few sips. The liquid has gone cold. He sighs out and lets the hours pass him by. Closing time approaches like it does every night and he is asked to leave.

Day 4:

He’s back to getting pancakes. He likes to pretend they are yours, that you made them for him. He likes to imagine a life where you make breakfast for him again. He likes to imagine a life where you’re just here again. It’s almost 7 am, he needs to head to the coffee shop. He strolls casually, wondering what you are up to on this Thursday morning. Are you finally going to make an appearance at Cozy Coffee? Are you running late for work? Are you in early today?

Taehyung enters the shop and the owner gives him a sweet smile and begins working on his tea. Taehyung feels grateful that it’s being made without him even ordering it yet, a smile adorning his face. He pays for the tea and makes his way to the his table, pulls out his notebook and continues working on his song.

I’m wondering are you my best friend? Feels like a river’s rushing through my mind. I wanna ask you if this is all just in my head. My heart is pounding tonight, I wonder if you are too good to be true. And would it be alright if I pulled you closer.

Taehyung lets hours and hours pass, his pen busy on his notebook paper. The lyrics coming to him so easily for the first time in months. He can’t help the sad smile that grows on his face as he reads and rereads his song lyrics.

Just like every day when the bell of the front door jingles his head shoots up to see who it is. Now is no different. A woman comes in and his heart almost stops because she looks like you at first glance. Taehyung groans at the disappointment. Because it’s not you.

Day 5:

Okay, he is back to French toast. It’s starting to grow on him, he definitely wants to ask you to make this for him. His imagination begins to run wild with dreams of making food with you again, kissing the side of your neck as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind you. Like the many times he has done it.

“Taehyung…” you whine as he nips your neck with his teeth. “I’m trying to concentrate on this recipe.”

“I’m trying to concentrate too.” Taehyung smirks against your soft skin, “On you.”

You can’t help the blush that begins spreading across your cheeks, his fingers dig into your hips and you moan out.

“Taehyung…”

“What is it baby?” he starts kissing your neck. “Want me to fuck you? Right here?” he digs his fingers deeper into your hips and you start grinding against him.

“Couch.” You breathe out. “I want to ride you.”

“Oh? You want to be in control? Maybe I will allow it this once.” He teases, his tongue licking a strip up to your ear, then he nibbles on the lobe.

Taehyung finds his pants getting tight as he recalls his memories with you. He misses kissing you, he misses touching you, he misses your scent, he misses your skin, your eyes, your lips.

Shit, it’s past 7. He needs to hurry to Cozy’s.

He’s seated in his spot with his tea and notebook out, he swears he is almost finished with this song…the chorus needs some work but he thinks he’s got it. Something about being ships in the night, but somehow he doesn’t have the courage to finish he song, he doesn’t want that to be his relationship with you.

Night time comes and still no sign of you. Tomorrow is his last day and he is starting to freak out. Where are you? He thought you came here all the time? Why aren’t you coming? Are you okay? He is asked to leave once again and he does.

Day 6:

Back to pancakes. Back to strolling on the side walk. Back to Cozy’s. Back to his tea. Back to his spot.

Taehyung feels the nerves in his body multiplying with every shaky breath he takes. Today is the last night, his flight is in the morning and he has made no progress on finding you. This place being his only hint.

“Excuse me…” Taehyung walks up to the counter and greets the owner.

“What can I do for you young man? Another tea?” he softly smiles at Taehyung but Taehyung shakes his head.

“I have a question…” he begins. “Do you know y/n y/l/n?”

“y/n???” the old man begins to smile after expressing his confusion, “Of course I do, that girl has been coming here for years.” He starts wiping down the counter with a rag. “Why? You looking for her? You aren’t some creepy ex-boyfriend are you?”

“No, no.” Taehyung laughs. “But I am looking for her…she usually comes here right?” he nervously chuckles.

“Usually. But she started a new job recently that has kept her a little busy…” the old man continues to wipe down the counter. “But she was in just last week! And It’s Saturday!” he cheers, “She always comes to write on weekends.”

Taehyung lights up at that. “Really??” he shows the old man a wide, boxy grin. He feels like he hasn’t smiled like that in what seems like forever. All because there is finally a chance he might see you.

“Oh…” The old man stops wiping to get a good look at Taehyung. “You look like a man in love.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen just a bit before he smiles, “Do I?”

The shop is busy today. Taehyung sits in his usual spot, writing and doodling in his notebook, his head lifting up quickly every time the door jingles. It’s never you though. It is already 6pm and there is still no sign on you and Taehyung hates that he is starting to lose hope. Are you not coming? He doesn’t have much time left.

Taehyung sits here, his pen between his lips as he thinks about you. He thinks about the first time he saw you…he really thought you were some girl he might have drunkenly hooked up with…he remembers your expression, how shocked, how scared, how overwhelmed you were. He wishes now he could go back in time and hug you. Tell you he’s with you, together. That you aren’t alone. Taehyung wishes he could kiss your temple, bring you in close and make you feel okay. He recalls the first time you two really interacted.

“We need to find out what’s going on.” Taehyung takes a deep breath, lifting his head up. He locks his eyes with yours again but you break contact to look at your feet.

“We don’t know anything…would if it’s not safe?” you quietly try to reason.

“Exactly, we don’t know anything and that’s a problem. You don’t expect us to stay in this room forever, do you?”

He has a point and you know it. You want to follow him out of this room but your feet seem to be glued to the floor.

“Well, no. But—”

“Didn’t think so.” He turns away from you, his body shuffling towards the bedrooms door but before he can become out of reach your hand flies to his shirt sleeve, tugging it softly.

“Wait! Just hold on—” Your voice wavers and Taehyung rolls his eyes. Rolls his fucking eyes at you!

“Listen, come. Or don’t. I don’t really care.” Taehyung releases your hold on his shirt, unsticking your fingers and throwing your hand towards your body. “Decide.” He states before swiftly turning around to head towards the door.

Oh. So this guy is a fucking asshole. Noted.

You end up following him because although he was rude about it, feeling someone’s touch when you feel so scared was slightly comforting and yes, you are aware of how fucking pathetic that is.

Taehyung stands in front of the door, his hand reaching for the knob when he turns his head to say, “Just trust me.”

And now you are the one rolling your eyes. Trust him? You just met the dude! 10 minutes ago his name was Future Murderer. How could you possibly trust this asshole?

“How can I trust you? I literally just met you.” The scowl on your face deepens when he smirks.

“Are you always such a fucking baby?”

“Are you always such a fucking baby?” you mock, eyes rolling so far into the back of your head.

Taehyung can’t help but chuckle. God, you were such a brat. It’s almost 7 now…still no sign of you.

“Maybe if you weren’t always following me, they would have sent us home by now.” Taehyung states bitterly as he puts his slice of bread on top of his now made sandwich.

“I’m not following you.” You roll your eyes, “I have to eat too.”

“You can’t wait until I’m done?”

“You look pretty done to me…” You point at his sandwich and he scoffs.

“I still have to eat it.”

“Eat in your room for all I care.”

You and Taehyung are getting along just fine…maybe not swimmingly but like, fine. It’s been a couple weeks and you have mostly stayed out of one another’s way but it’s moments like this that you end up interacting.

“I think I’ll eat at the table, thanks.” He grabs his sandwich and makes his way to the dining room table, sitting down with a thump. He aggressively picks up his sandwich and takes a bite while showing you a smart ass smile.

“Fantastic,” you state, “Me too.” You finish pouring milk into your cereal bowl and set it back inside the fridge. You dramatically make your way over to the table as well, giving him a wide grin as you sit down in front of him. You slightly slam your bowl down on the table, some milk dribbling over the edge of the bowl and Taehyung snarls.

“Great, you’re making a fucking mess.”

“If you went up and ate in you room you would have no idea about this mess.”

“But you still would have made this mess?”

“Ignorance is bliss, Taehyung.”

“You’re such a…” he stops, setting his lips into a firm line and you lean your head forward, clearly curious about what you are.

“Such a…?” you blink at him repeatedly and his lips curve upward into a charming smile.

“A fucking brat.” Taehyung grabs his sandwich again and takes an obnoxious bite while grinning and you give him your best annoyed eye roll.

Taehyung continues to chuckles as he goes down memory lane…he does regret being mean to you at first but god, you truly were a fucking brat. But he laughs about it now, loving every single memory he shares with you.

The door jingles and he shoots his head up, hoping it is you. But still, just like every other fucking time—it’s not.

Taehyung groans into his notebook, feeling lost and frustrated. What’s he going to do if you don’t show? He’s trying here. Is the universe really that cruel? And suddenly the door jingles again, but he doesn’t look up, he knows it isn’t you.

“Hi Mister Jones!”

Oh. Oh. That voice. That voice belongs to you. Taehyung whips his head up and there you are. You are standing at the doors entrance with a nervous smile on your face, why are you nervous? You are wearing jeans and a oversized t shirt, a casual but cute look. And Taehyung is falling in love with you. Seeing you in the real world for the first time has him frozen in place.

“The usual?”

“Yeah.” You reply calmly, glancing at the empty table at the front of the shop. You pull a chair out and take a seat, your back to Taehyung. He is still frozen. He all of the sudden feels unprepared for this. He all of the sudden feels sick. He clenches his jaw as he watches your back. You are here, living your life without even think of him aren’t you? Taehyung swallows down his anger now. He has to. Anger won’t do him any good.

He takes long breath after long breath trying to compose himself and find his confidence to go up to you and confront you. He blinks back his growing tears of frustration and stands from his table, the chair screeching against the wooden floors.

He stands here, frozen again. What if you really do not want to see him? That this was all intentional? He starts to feel sick again. He squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to get rid of the feeling of nausea.

“Taehyung…” you whisper his name, “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You think having feelings for me means that’s it? That it’s the end? Baby, it would only be the beginning.” Taehyung leans down again as he caresses your face. “I know you’re scared. I know you have trauma that you’re still getting through. I know your ex fucked you up. But I’m not him. I’m Taehyung. I’m…fuck, I don’t know. y/n, please just open your heart to me.” Taehyung looks at you with so much compassion that it physically hurts.

“I know,” your voice shakes, “I know you aren’t him, Tae.” You take his hand in yours, “I do like you.” You finally admit, shutting your eyes.

“Look at me.” Taehyung commands, “Look at me babe.”

You slowly open your eyes again, gazing into his dark ones and you feel yourself grow warmer and warmer.

“I’m only looking at you.”

Taehyung quickly opens his eyes as he finds his resolve. You love him. He knows it. He feels it. You wanted him, just like how he wanted you—wants you.

He nods his head, trying to pump himself up, about to gain the courage to walk to you when the door jingles again and a man walks in. A man that immediately looks at you and smiles.

This man takes a seat across from you at the small table and Taehyung feels his heart halting in his chest. He feels himself grow warm, he feels himself grow the company of something evil, something green. He feels himself grow incredibly fucking jealous. So you do have someone. You moved on. You have someone, someone that is not him. Taehyung slowly plops back down in his chair, his mouth slightly open as he watches this man talk and smile at you.

But suddenly, Taehyung notices how tense you become. How you grip on to your purse harder and harder with every word this man speaks. He can sense you from here…something is wrong. Who is this man? Why is he making you so uncomfortable? Is this not a date? Taehyung isn’t sure what to do. He could be reading this all wrong, he could be imagining this for his own sake. He could be creating this world where you don’t love anyone but him.

But then you stand from your chair abruptly and storm out of the shop, this man desperately tries to grab for you and quickly follows after you. Taehyung stands from his chair as well, already racing towards the shops door, in search of you. He didn’t even think about it, he just acted on instinct.

“y/n!” the man calls out after you but you continue to speed walk away until you feel a hand grab at your arm. You are quick to turn around, ready to give him an earful when your face goes completely pale.

“T-Taehyung…?” you stutter out, the shock riding in waves throughout your entire body.

“I said wait baby!” The man jogs up to you and Taehyung, Taehyung releases his hold on your arm and looks between you and this man.

“Baby?” Taehyung whispers out, already feeling his heart crack inside his chest. Maybe this is just a lovers quarrel. He continues looking between you and this man and you can see the hurt plastered all over Taehyung’s face.

“No—”

“Who is this?” The man stands between you and Taehyung. “Who are you?”

“Ben, you can leave. I think I have heard enough.” You spit out and Taehyung’s eyes widen before they are narrowing at you.

“Ben…?” he asks, not even sparing Ben a glance, only focusing on you. “Why are you with him y/n?” Taehyung’s voice goes dangerously low. “I asked, why are you with him?”

“He was just—”

“I was just talking with my girl. Is that a problem?”

“Your girl?” You and Taehyung ask in unison.

“You’re fucking kidding, right y/n?” Taehyung’s face is taken over with a scowl. “There’s no fucking way you are seeing this asshole again.”

“It’s not—”

“Asshole?” Ben scoffs, “Who the fuck are you?”

Taehyung doesn’t even look Bens way as he eyes you, he stuffs his hands into his front pockets and stares at you with his hard expression.

“Answer me.” He commands. “Now.”

“Listen buddy—” Ben begins but Taehyung just a holds a hand up in front of Bens face and tilts his head at you.

“I said, now.” Taehyung finally lowers his hand, then he is feeling his body being shove backward.

“I said who the fuck are you?” Ben pushes Taehyung, his hands still on his chest at the collar of his shirt. “How do you know my girl? y/n…you been fucking other men?”

“I’m not your fucking girl Ben.” You finally snap out of your daze, “I said leave.”

Ben lets go of Taehyung shirt to face you, he walks closer and closer until his feet are practically touching your own.

“Sweetheart I said I was sorry…” Ben tries to caress your face but you smack his hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You spit out, “Ever.”

Taehyung eyes the both of you with curiosity. What’s going on here? Are you with him or aren’t you? You notice Taehyung’s confused expression and move towards him to begin explaining.

“Ben is just here to explain why he did what he did…I don’t know why I agreed…but—”

“I’ve heard enough.” Taehyung stops you, he walks closer to you. “He’s bothering you?”

“I ain’t bothering anyone you fucking dick. And you never answered my question—who the fuck are—”

Your eyes are as wide as saucers and you watch the collision of Taehyung’s fist to Ben’s face. You swear you are witnessing it in slow motion, the way his fist crashes into the side of Bens jaw. The way Ben stumbles back and falls to the pavement. The way Taehyung grits his teeth as he brings his fist back to his own body. Did Taehyung just fucking punch your ex-boyfriend in the fucking face?

“She said to fucking leave.” Taehyung growls, “Now.”

“Taehyung!” you rush to his side, immediately reaching for his fist and inspecting it for any damage. You are hit with something massive…like the grandest bolt of electricity the moment your hand touches his. You try your hardest to ignore it, to ignore the fire that caught light, the raging fire that burns so wildly in your chest.

“Come. Come with me.” You say in panic, ignoring the fact that Ben lays on the concrete, probably knocked the fuck out. You hold on to Taehyung’s hand tightly as you lead him to the parking lot until you’re at your car. You hurry to let go of his hand, feeling so fucking nervous. What the hell is happening? Everything with Ben happened so fast that you haven’t even processed the fact that Taehyung is here. Here with you. In your city. In this parking lot. At your car.

“Tae—”

You stop before you can even finish his name. He looks at you with something you have never seen before. He goes to open his mouth but he stops himself, not knowing what the right thing to say is.

“I don’t know what to say anymore now that I am with you.” Taehyung finally says after a long while, his eyes are wet and his expression is troubled.

“I thought I would get here and I would tell you I am ready to make this work, that I missed you, that I love you. But now…seeing you. Really seeing you, I don’t know anymore.” He admits. “I think I am angry with you.” He says softly. “Really fucking angry.”

“Tae—”

“No.” he moves his head to the side, his eyes down at his shoes. “Let me speak. I have prepared a whole speech for you…but now, I don’t think I would mean any of the words.” He shuts his eyes, a tear escaping. “Did you go too far? Too far in hurting me?” he whispers. “Did you ruin me?”

You start breathing heavily, not knowing how to take his words. Why is he here?

“I had to fucking search for you. But did you even want to be found?” he questions you softly.

“Taehyung.” You say firmly. “I—”

“Am I a fool?” He chokes out, “A fool for doing this? Coming all the way here…sitting at this coffee place every single day waiting for you like the pathetic man that I am.” Another tear slips.

“Can I talk now?” you whisper. “Please?”

Taehyung gulps down his spit, anticipating what you might say. He gestures for you to speak and you take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry I didn’t reach out…” you begin, your chest getting tighter and tighter. “Every day that passed it got harder and harder to do it. If I’m being honest I stalked your account…” you admit with a bitter laugh, “You seemed happy. I wasn’t even sure you wanted me to reach out. Then Hana…”

“Hana?” Taehyung scrunches his brows together, “What’s Hana got to do with this?”

“You two are together aren’t you? I know, Taehyung.” You swallow hard.

Taehyung shakes his head in confusion, how do you know about Hana? You know he slept with her or?

“It was only one time.” Taehyung admits quietly…”but how do you know about that?”

“She posted you on her Instagram. I just assumed.” You say dryly, feeling a pang in your chest as you look at him. So he did get with her. You fucking knew it.

“Why are you here Taehyung?”

“I was here to tell you I love you. I want to make this work.” He says bluntly.

“Was?” you whisper and he nods.

“Now that I am here and I see you, I know I fucking love you still. But I think I’m lost and confused right now.” He admits between bated breaths. “I was so nervous to see you and to be honest looking at you now…I still feel nervous. Like, I could throw up.”

“I feel that way too.” You admit.

“You hurt me, y/n.” he steps closer to you, his gaze is dark and unwavering. “Can I forgive you?” he whispers and you choke back a sob. “Do you even love me back?...That’s also a main problem here.”

“I don’t know what to say.” You breathe out roughly, “I’m sorry for our last conversation on the island.”

“Are you?” he takes another step. “Are you really?”

“Yes, Tae…I …I…”

“You? You?” Another step.

“I was so scared, I was so confused.” You take a step back, but he continues walking towards you. “ But I was wrong.”

“Wrong about what?” he steps closer. “About that ‘maybe’ hmm?” he steps even closer until he is breathing the same zone of air as you. He reaches for your jaw with his hand and tilts your head up towards him. “I could have fucking told you that.”

“Taehyung…” you don’t mean to whimper, but you do. You fucking do. “I’m sorry. It just got so hard to talk to you but I have thought about you every second of every day.”

“Every second?” he scoffs, “Even as you were having coffee with fucking Ben?”

“It seriously isn’t what it looks like…” you rush to say, “He wouldn’t stop pestering me.”

“Tell me how you feel y/n. Right fucking now.” He roughly commands, his fingers still on your jaw.

“I—”

“I want everything, every detail. I want to know exactly what’s going on in this brain of yours.” Taehyung looks at you with hard eyes. “I want the truth.”

You scrunch your face up as you try not to cry, you feel so many overwhelming feelings all at once. You don’t know what to say. You love him. But is it that simple? “I…” You gulp.

“You?” his eyes soften just the slightest, “Just talk to me babe.” His voice loses all its edge as you begin to silently cry. His thumb wipes away your falling tears. “Just talk to me.”

“I miss you so fucking much.” Is the first thing that slips out of your mouth, “You have no idea…” you sob.

“If anyone has an idea, it’s me.” He chuckles bitterly.

“I let time pass me by Tae, I regret it so much. But as the seconds ticked by I knew I was losing my window of opportunity. And before I knew it 6 months had passed.” You choke, “I am so, so sorry.” You stare into his dark eyes. “The company did me a favor.” You laugh, “They gave me you. I fell in love with you, Taehyung. I just…I’m so sorry I doubted myself, doubted you.”

Taehyung’s features soften as he listens to you, he feels himself grow weak. Especially with his fingers touching your skin. He pulls back from you and leans against your car.

“Are you still in love with me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.” You sniffle, wiping your face of your tears. “I think I always will be, even if you decide you hate me.”

“I wish I could hate you.” Taehyung throws his head back, “It would make this easier, I wouldn’t even be here.”

“Make what easier?”

“Leaving you behind.” He says quietly, “Leaving us behind.”

Your body begins to shake as more tears escape you, you feel the heavy weight of his words fucking crush you. He wants nothing to do with you. He doesn’t want you anymore. You fucked up too badly. Taehyung watches as you sob for several minutes, his eyes never leaving your flushed face. He clicks his tongue and puts a hand on your shoulder and rubs it.

“That’s what I think I should do.” He says, “But I can’t.”

Wait, what?

“You c-can’t?”

“I love you too much. And I all my friends voted I bring you back to Korea.” He says with a small smirk.

“But you?” you cry, “You said you are leaving me?”

“I was thinking aloud. And to be honest I wanted you to suffer a bit.” He says with his dark gaze. “I wanted to punish you just a little.”

Your wide eyes narrow at him and you can’t help but cry harder. “You fucking sadist.”

“Maybe a little.” He admits with a growing sly smile. “We have a lot to talk about.” He says after a moment. “Do you want to make this work with me or not?”

“Are you serious? Even after all of this you still want to be with me?”

“We’re soulmates, baby. Or did you forget?”

“You fucking smartass.” You wipe at your face, wiping your snots on the collar of your t shirt. “But yes…I want to make this work.”

“Spend a couple weeks with me in Korea. I want to start over with you. Take things slow. I am still angry. But I fucking love you.”

“A couple weeks in Korea?” you shake your head, “I can’t take off work that long.”

“I am not going to beg you.” Taehyung warns, “But please.”

A couple weeks in Korea? With Taehyung? Meeting his family? His friends? Starting over? Going slow? Can you two really do this?

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #the island chapter 8

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andypantsx3 · 3 years

Note

Ahh I cannot believe your writing anniversary is here! Happy anniversary and congrats, booboo 💖

For the ficlets, may I request a himbo!Bakugou with the prompt “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Aaand of course, I gotta end it with I love you I love you I love you and I know this event is gonna be so dope.

Rest, my sweet angel princess!! I have no idea how to write himbo!Bakugou but I tried my best lol. Please accept gymbo!Bakugou.

Just Can’t Weight | Bakugou/Reader

Prompt: “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Word Count: 830 words Tags/Warnings: gym AU, slight praise kink, mostly SFW Notes: Thank you @bobawithpomegranate for beta reading!!

You mostly went to the gym for the hot blonde who functioned as the gym’s saltiest, angriest, most foul-tempered personal trainer.

Katsuki Bakugou had the face of an angel, and the musculature of a Greco-Roman god, with the petty ire to match it. You dared not hire him yourself, willing to part with neither your money nor your dignity, but that did not stop you from watching him constantly as he hovered angrily over his clients, adding weights to their racks with relish even as they sobbed for mercy, jamming the buttons on their treadmills up to speeds with the potential to launch them into orbit.

He was literally fucking terrifying, but so insanely hot that he never seemed to have a shortage of clients. Every morning there was someone, usually of the female persuasion, hanging off his biceps, letting out breathy little complaints of “Katsuki!” and bending over to pick up their water bottles in the most improbably flexible of ways.

Bakugou seemed immune to their charms, even the prettiest ones. He refused to move close to correct their forms in the manner that they were obviously angling for, instead shoving them about with a flat hand on their back, and he added on grueling numbers of reps and sets any time he was subjected to comments of a salacious nature. You never even bothered to attempt to draw his attention, content to watch him appreciatively from the safety of your own treadmill across the gym.

That was until the morning when things finally came to a head.

Bakugou was finishing up with a client across the gym, a fact you were very aware of because you had not unglued your eyeballs from him for the last fifty-four and a half minutes, eyes hungrily tracing his lean form as he guided the client through a set of very impressive stretches.

You were so focused, in fact, that you were not giving much attention to your bent-over row form.

Something that Bakugou, as he was shoving his charge out the door, apparently noticed.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, turning back inside the gym.

You realized with some alarm that he was growing larger in your field of vision—stalking towards you, handsome face twisted in a scowl. A quick glance behind you revealed that the source of his ire was you, as there was no one else currently in the weights corner.

You panicked. What did he mean, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Had he noticed you watching him?

Fuck, fuck.

“Uh, working out?” you asked, trying for a casual tone.

“Working out a way to be fucking hospitalized, more like,” Bakugou spat.

You stared at him blankly. Was he threatening to put you in the hospital just for looking at him?

Before you could stutter out some kind of rejoinder, Bakugou was already in your space. You caught the scent of some spicy, clean kind of body wash before your attention was wholly and completely captured by a pair of hot hands on you. Bakugou pressed the small of your back down, hard, the other pressing up just under your sternum, dangerously close to the edge of your bra.

You froze, staring up at him wide-eyed.

“This is the sloppiest fucking form I have ever seen,” he said, sounding disgusted. “Your back needs to be straight, not hunched over like you’re a thousand fucking years old.”

You blinked, having trouble thinking past the feel of his hands on you. They were still there, holding you in place, burning through your shirt like twin fires through a dry forest. He never touched his clients like this. What was he doing?

“I, uh—”

“You, uh are gonna fucking listen to me. Now pull the weights up into your chest,” he demanded.

You did as he instructed, mind numb.

Bakugou made an impatient noise as you did so. The next thing you knew, he was draping himself over your back, a hot line of muscle all along your spine, his calloused hands grasping the weights behind your own hands. He forced them down, and pulled them back up again, so close to your sides that his thumbs brushed the underside of your breasts.

“Pull up into your chest, not your friggin’ neck,” he growled into your ear.

You nodded, swallowing hard. Bakugou lingered a moment, still pressed to your back as you did it again. You were hardly breathing, not daring to do anything but what he had shown you.

“Good girl,” he said, when you’d finally done it to his satisfaction. Then, “Next time you want my attention, try asking for it instead of acting like a fucking idiot.”

Then he was moving off of you, stalking out of the gym in a whirlwind of blonde hair and sleek muscle, smugness rolling off of him in thick waves.

“Wait—” you called after him, “I wasn’t trying to—! I didn’t—!”

But Bakugou wasn’t listening. He was already gone.

Garbage Fest event masterlist in pinned post!

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha #garbage fest 2021 #garbage fest fics

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hoboal87 · 3 years

Text

The Fear

Title: The Fear

Pairing: Dean x pregnant!Reader, minor Sam x Eileen

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Summary: Dean comes home to find Y/N missing.

Word Count: 2300+

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, kidnapping, violence, fluff, pregnancy, non-graphic descriptions of childbirth, 15 x 20 adjacent.

A/N: my entry for @princessmisery666's #daily mix challenge combined with a Nonnie request.

Edit: I forgot to thank the lovely @lovealways-j for beta-reading this for me. Thanks, Sabrina!

My song is "The Fear" by The Score

My Full Masterlist

Something’s wrong.

Dean can sense it the moment he steps into his shared room with Y/N. He looks carefully around the room, trying to find a clue as to what’s got his hunter instincts in high gear. It looks no different then when he and Sam left three days ago, and yet, every bone in his body is telling him something is off.

“Y/N?” He calls out hesitantly as he makes his way towards her old room down the hall. She’d been in the process of turning it into a nursery for the last month and had a tendency to get lost in paint samples and baby supplies. As he closes in on the room, he can feel himself becoming more on edge and instinctively reaches for his gun. “Sweetheart? You in there?”

Dean’s heart sinks further into his stomach as he reaches the newly-converted nursery. The usually meticulously organized room was in a state of disarray as if there had been some sort of struggle. Dean calls out for Y/N again, willing her to give him some kind of sign that he was overreacting to what he was seeing.

He quickly pulls out his phone dialing Y/N’s number, he and Sam should have never gone on that hunt, Y/N was due in less than a month, but she insisted that they go.

This is Y/N, sorry I can’t come to the phone, if it’s an emergency please contact Sam or Dean…

“Fuck,” Dean mutters, waiting for her message to end. “Hey sweetheart,” he does his best to keep his voice steady. “Me and Sammy just got back and I just got a feeling…” he takes a deep breath. “Call me back. Love you.”

Dean pockets his phone, before taking in the room again, trying to convince himself that it’s his new-father instincts and not his hunter instincts that have him so on edge. That’s when he sees it: under a discarded bag, a small pool of blood. Dean’s breathing grows heavier, and he scans the room again, looking for any kind of sign of what may have happened in the room.

“Sam!” Dean yells out, his breath quickening. “Sammy!”

Sam’s behind him, skidding to a stop before taking in the sight of the room before him. Even with only a cursory glance Dean knows that Sam’s thinking the same thing as him, something’s happened to Y/N.

Dean hurries down to the infirmary, Y/N had insisted that they have everything to monitor her in the final months and in the worst-case scenario anything needed to help her deliver. The simple fetal monitor is right where they’d left it three days prior, Dean insists on listening to the heartbeat of his unborn child on an almost daily basis, letting the rapid thump thump thump put him at ease.

Dean’s phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he breathes out a sigh of relief when Y/N’s picture fills the screen. He takes a minute, calming himself, she doesn’t need to know that up until this moment he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Sweetheart,” he smiles, “y’know you had us worried for a minute.”

There’s silence on the other end of the call, save for heavy, scratchy breathing.

“Y/N?”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Y/N whispers, choking back a sob. “I shouldn’t’ve trusted her. Now–”

“Baby, listen to me,” Dean finds Sam in the hall and mouths trace the call, Sam nods and bolts towards the library. “Are you okay? The baby?”

“That depends on you, Dean,” an unfamiliar voice replaces Y/N’s. “Now, be a good little soldier and do as I say. Only then will your precious wife and child have a chance to make it through this unharmed.” Dean can feel his blood boiling, this is why he could never not be a hunter. He and Sam have made too many enemies over the years, and now Y/N and their baby may be paying the price.

All the fear that he felt when Y/N first told him she was pregnant comes rushing back to the surface. Dean never thought he’d get married, let alone be a father, but with Rowena keeping the demons in check, and Jack limiting the angels' interaction on Earth, with the exception of Cas, life became some version of safe for the brothers.

That’s why Y/N insisted that they take the simple salt n’ burn just one state over. She knew that they were going a little stir crazy, Bobby, Jody and Donna, had started training the next generation of hunters so that boys could retire. Dean was hesitant to leave, Y/N was only a month away from her due date, but she shooed them out the door, claiming to need her own space from her overprotective husband and brother-in-law.

“Are you listening, Dean?” The voice tuts and Dean tries to clear his head of ‘if’s’ and ‘could’ve’s’ all it’s doing is driving him crazy.

“I’m listening,” Dean repeats through gritted teeth. The voice gives coordinates to a location a few hours away and before he realizes it he’s in the Impala, ready to do whatever it takes to save his wife and baby. Sam tells Dean what he’s already sure of: this is a trap and Y/N is being used as bait. He doesn’t care, he can’t lose her, lose their baby, not when she’s done nothing more than love him.

The sun is setting when they pull up to the abandoned farmhouse, original, Dean thinks. Dean wants to go bursting in, guns ablaze, but Sam stops him, reminding him that they don’t know who or what has got Y/N, and they have to be smart. He wants nothing more than to punch his brother for suggesting that they wait even a second longer to rescue Y/N, but he lets the words sink in and reluctantly agrees.

Silver bullets, holy water, dead man’s blood, witch-killing bullets and machete’s are divided between each brother, knowing that whatever has Y/N, one of these things will most likely kill it. When they enter the farmhouse Dean’s eyes lock on Y/N, who’s against a wall, two chains around her wrists.

Dean rushes towards her, the only thing on his mind is getting her and the baby out of this place and back home. Her breathing is shallow when he reaches her, and he gently inspects her body. Gingerly, he touches her face, allowing her Y/E/C eyes to meet his and she smiles lazily at him. Knew you’d come, she whispers, and Dean leans forward to place a kiss on her forehead. His free hand lands on the swell of her belly, where he can feel a slight kick against his palm.

“I love you,” Dean says softly so that only Y/N can hear him. “I’m gonna get you outta here, sweetheart, okay?” Y/N nods slightly as Dean focuses his attention on freeing her from her bonds.

There’s a grunt behind Dean, and when he turns around, Sam’s on the ground, and there’s a somewhat familiar woman standing behind him.

“Dean Winchester,” she exclaims as two large men appear and pull him to his feet. “Been too long.”

“Jenny,” he utters, remembering one of the first cases he worked with Sam. “You look good, a little dead, but, good.”

“Always the charmer, weren’t you Dean?” She takes a step towards Y/N. “I could smell you on her the second she walked past me. Women always trust other women, made her think I was a hunter; a tragic backstory here, a name drop there, and bingo, the dumb bitch is leading me into your home.”

Dean feels his anger rising as he tugs against the two men, his eyes flicker to Sam, who slowly starts reaching for the blade next to him.

“Up,” Jenny orders and when Y/N doesn’t comply she produces a blade, and presses it against her stomach. Dean’s heart stops at the threat to Y/N and their baby. “If you want to give your baby a chance to ever see the light of day, I suggest you cooperate.”

Y/N’s legs are wobbly as she stands, tears glistening in her eyes as Jenny slowly runs the blade against her. Dean’s gaze doesn’t leave her, watching as Jenny uncuffs her, and leads her slowly over to him.

Adrenaline pumps through Dean’s veins and he frees himself from his two captors; headbutting one and throwing a punch at the other as Y/N is pushed out of the way. Sam is up on his feet and in a swift move, swings the blade through Jenny’s neck, her body falling limp to the ground. For the briefest of moments, Dean relaxes, only for a vamp to be coming at him again.

Dean can barely keep track of anything, his eyes tunneling in on the large vamp in front of him. He can hear the grunts of Sam, and the familiar sound of another vamp going down. Y/N isn’t in his line of sight, and through the blood pounding in his ears, he hears Sam call his name.

It was just the distraction that the vamp needed and he barrels towards Dean, slamming him against a wooden post. He feels something pierce his side but he keeps fighting against the vamp. As the vamp is about to take his final shot, his head is gone, and Sam is quickly resheething his blade.

Y/N cries out, cradling her stomach and even from a distance he can see the pool blood between her legs. Go, Dean orders Sam who quickly obeys.

“I think she’s in labor,” Sam mutters. “I don’t think we can get her to a hospital in time.”

Dean rushes to Y/N’s side as best he can, telling her everything will be alright. Dean returns to Baby, grabbing the first aid kit, hastily patching up the wound, and retrieving a blanket from the trunk. The pain hits him all at once, but he pushes through it, his pain doesn’t matter, all that matters is that Y/N and the baby are safe.

Y/N’s screaming out in pain, begging for someone to make it stop as Sam does his best to calm her. Dean closes the distance in only a few steps, positioning himself behind her. He takes her hands in his, whispering praises in her ear as Sam orders her to push.

Within only a few minutes, Evelyn Marie Winchester is brought into the world, wailing loudly as Sam wraps her in his flannel and hands her over to Y/N. Dean offers Sam a silent thank you as he takes in the appearance of his daughter. Evie’s the perfect combination of him and Y/N.

The moment of bliss doesn’t last long, as Sam reminds them that they still need to get Y/N and Evie to a hospital. Dean moves from his place behind Y/N and winces at the pain now radiating through his body. Sam gives him a curious look, and Dean shrugs, trying to convince his brother that he’s fine.

Dean takes Evie out of Y/N’s arms, and cradles her against him as Sam helps Y/N to her feet. Dean takes a few steps before legs start to give and his vision starts to blur. The last thing Dean hears before everything going black is Y/N and Sam calling out his name.

Five Years Later

Dean watches as Evie runs around the backyard of their new home, chasing Miracle and laughing hysterically. Y/N was right, the Bunker was no place to raise a little girl, she deserves everything that he and Sam never had, and he is determined to give it all to her. Evie will never know what it’s like to go to bed hungry or cold, or wonder when she’ll see her parents again.

The opening of the front door tears Dean’s attention away from his daughter, Sam’s voice filling the otherwise silent house. He turns to see his brother carrying a ridiculous amount of gifts followed by a very pregnant Eileen with a shaggy haired toddler attached to her hip.

“Unca De!” Little Bobby tries to squirm out of Eileen’s hold and she carefully lets him down. The toddler bolts for Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean’s leg. “S’Evie’s birfday!”

“I know, buddy!” Dean laughs at his nephew, “how ‘bout you go tell her ‘happy birthday’?” Dean opens the side door and lets Bobby out.

“You are going to spoil my daughter rotten, Sam Winchester,” Y/N appears from the back of the house. Dean’s still amazed that even after years together, Y/N can take his breath away.

“Well, if I had another niece or nephew, I could spread the love.”

“I think you’ve spread enough love, Sammy,” Dean jokes as he heads into the kitchen, Sam following behind him. “I mean, you’re basically having your kids back-to-back.”

“Three years is hardly back-to-back,” Sam reaches out to grab a beer. “You’re just mad ‘cause I one-upped you.”

“Actually,” Dean peeks into the living room. “We’ll be even. Y/N’s pregnant.”

The words have hardly left Dean’s mouth before Sam’s engulfed him in a hug. Dean’s positive that Eileen and Y/N are having a similar conversation at this very same moment, but what neither Sam or Eileen know is that they have a bet on who will crack first.

“Just found out a couple of weeks ago,” Dean continues with the ruse. “She wanted to wait until after yours was born, didn’t want to take Eileen’s thunder or something.” Sam nods, seemingly understanding.

Hours later, after the last present has been opened, and the final piece of cake has been eaten, Sam and Eileen take a very sleepy Bobby home. Evie sits at the kitchen table, listening carefully and a smile growing on her face as Dean and Y/N tell her that in six months she’ll have a little brother or sister.

“Or both,” Y/N corrects with a knowing smirk.

“Both?”

Please reblog or send me an ask with your feedback!

This one-shot was requested by a nonnie, my requests are currently open, you can send me an ask or DM me if you’d like to request something.

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#pmdailymix666 #dean x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean x pregnant!reader #angst #violence #kidnapping #angst with a happy ending

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aro-is-gay-af · 3 years

Text

The Midnight of Despair | Volturi Kings x fem!reader | Part 2

Part 1 | Part 3

I advise you to read it first, as this post is the continuation.

Yeah, there will be Part 3 for sure. As usual, sorry for gramatical confusion and/or any mistakes.

Love you all, thank you for 100 (!) notes under Part 1.

Warnings: Rape, Depression, PTSD, Swear words, Forced Pregnancy

Word count: 6768

Summary: [Y/N] and Bella are childhood friends. They were always there for each other. [Y/N] had tough times and struggles with everyday life. Bella faces depression after Edward had left her. [Y/N] tries to get her going and alive. One day [Y/N] is raped and gets pregnant with the rapist. Not long after that it turns out that Edward got himself into the mess with Volturi. [Y/N], even traumatized and in pieces, will not let Bella go without her supervision to Italy. What is going to happen when [Y/N] will stay at Volterra? Is she really predestined to be Kings’ mate? Is she going to have her baby or abort the pregnancy? Will the trauma go away or is she going to struggle for a long time?

ENJOY!

You tried not to break your eye contact with Aro, as it made you unusually calm and on place. As soon as you walked through the door to the throne room you felt almost like at home. You knew it would take some time to get used to the new place, especially a place like this, though, you didn't find it repulsive or frightening.

You sat down in the chair that Aro had pulled out for you. It was a little gesture but it made you a little less weirded out. Now, that you were alone with three kings, you were not as relaxed as you might have thought you’ll be, for your legs were trembling with exertion.

It wasn’t a surprise, though. You’ve barely eaten, been up on your feet since you got off the plane and through all day long, you were strongly convinced it was your last day on Earth. On top of this, you’ve just allowed Aro to touch your hand and then kiss it. You were certain that if it was for any other person, you wouldn’t be so willing to do so.

Aro took a seat opposite to you, whereas Marcus and Caius sat, probably, on their usual seats, not that far from you both. You were tired, but confident that some things needed to be established as soon as possible. You understood this perfectly. Also, even though Alice told you about basic things, you still were oblivious to most information.

“You have impressed me with your declaration” it was Caius who started the conversation. You looked directly at him.

“I’m not stupid, nor suicidal” you said, trying to remain as calm as possible. “At least, not anymore” you admitted, your upset tone impossible to miss. Caius tilted his head, eyeing you carefully.

“While on the plane, Alice told me briefly about basics,” you said. Seeing their stares, you rolled your eyes. “Yes, she also explained to me the laws. I knew this trip would’ve only two possible endings for me.”

Aro had known about this prior, but Marcus and Caius looked taken aback, to say at least.

“You knew you’d probably die and still came here?” it was Marcus who asked. It was a weird experience, even if you’d known him only for a few moments, to see such an authentic interest in his behaviour.

You nodded and smiled.

“Sure I did. Bella’s stupid ass didn’t give me another choice” you chuckled. Caius smiled again with that creepy smile, which he also had on his face while in the throne room.

“Stop that, brother” Aro scolded him lightly. “We don’t want to frighten [Y/N].”

Caius only rolled his eyes.

“You are familiar with the fact that I am as old as you, brother?” he asked Aro mockingly, sprawling comfortably in his chair. “There’s no need to scold me like I’m a child.”

Aro frowned.

“Yes, brother, I am certainly familiar with this. But nonetheless, you should be more gentle when it comes to [Y/N].”

Even though you’d been tired, somehow kings’ presence had risen your spirits. Also, it was quite funny to see them mock themselves like this.

“Can I say something?” you asked, visibly amused by their behaviour. You've relaxed a little and only then you felt how tired you really were.

“Of course, cara” said Marcus, who didn’t exactly talk much until now. All of them were looking at you, curious about what you wanted to say.

You smiled shyly, not being accustomed to receive so much attention at once.

“I don’t know if it’s normal but I’m not exactly…afraid of you? I guess I’m mostly curious. I wasn’t… concerned while we were heading here. Like, at all” you admitted, trying your best to find words, which would suit your emotions.

Three of them were listening very carefully, even Aro, who had already known your thoughts.

“Alice wasn’t trying to scare me, but I felt that she was extremely cautious when it came to your coven. Bella also was exaggerating with drama and I…” you immediately felt sick and couldn’t end the sentence. You were happy to maybe die? You were happy to have something to think about, other than rape? To think about something different than this unwanted child?

It was as they felt the change in your mood. You saw Aro wanted to touch you but restrained himself from doing so. Marcus’s expression was calm but you actually thought, he was being beyond emotional about this. And Caius…he looked genuinely concerned.

You smiled sadly, as none of them said anything.

“I’m not exactly aware of how this mating bond thing works, but that’s probably the reason” you said quietly, with insecurity so overwhelming that you couldn’t look at the kings anymore. Instead, you embraced your knees with yours arms and glanced at your feet resting on the edge of your chair.

You tried hard not to cry. You weren’t weak, you weren’t unstable. You were harmed in the most brutal way and you knew, it would take you a while to get out of this state of mind. Nevertheless, you didn’t want them to consider you weak or unworthy of their attention. Right now, they were the only ones you had in this world.

Your throat tightened and your lips trembled from the sob you denied yourself to make. One of them handed you a handkerchief, while making an effort not to touch you. You glanced up, as it turned out, at Marcus, who was holding the handkerchief in front of you.

“It is perfectly alright to cry, cara. You have no idea how many times I wished to shed at least one tear” he said, while you were wiping away yours. You believed him, of course. When you were in the throne room, at first Marcus looked completely lifeless and depressed. It changed after he spotted you, but you knew his behaviour didn’t come out of nowhere.

You’ve managed to calm yourself a little bit. After you regained your composure, Aro smiled gently at you, making you give him your full attention.

“My dear, we would be delighted to explain to you everything, but I can clearly see that you are extremely tired. So much has happened today, and the best way we can handle this, is when you are well rested. May I suggest coming back to the topic without any more delay, when you’ve had enough sleep?”

You smiled because of his intricate wording.

“Sure. Although, there’s no need for you to talk to me this way” you said amused, while also trying not to sound rude. The way Aro expressed his thoughts was extremely distinguished and you understood that this was part of his personality that he had acquired over three millennia.

Caius smiled to himself hearing your remark and Marcus didn't hide his amusement either. Even Aro seemed mildly entertained.

“Forgive me, cara mia” he said apologetically, mischievous tone of his voice never escaping your attention. “I am quite old by now” his remark made Caius laugh loudly. You laughed too.

“I don’t think your age matters in this case” you said, your spirits raised just a little bit.

***

After your brief conversation, it was Marcus who showed you to your room. Well, it wasn’t exactly a room, as you had all suite to yourself. As soon as you saw it, you decided that it was really too much, that a bed would suffice, but fell silent after Marcus explained, why you needed to be isolated from others.

You almost forgot they were vampires and you could die if you walked into the wrong one. You shared your concerns with Marcus, who was extremely amused to hear about them. Only the most trusted members of the guard knew of the whereabouts of your chamber. The lower ranks didn't even know that you were staying in the castle for an extended period of time.

Marcus assured that overnight the kings would consider, who would be the most qualified to become your personal guardian. You were a bit embarrassed, as you seemed to be creating quite a problem with your presence in the castle. Nonetheless, you thanked Marcus, making sure beforehand that you would definitely see the three of them, as soon as you got some sleep.

Your chamber was huge. You could’ve sworn it was twice the size of the house you owned in Forks. You had your own bathroom, walk-in-closet and even a small kitchenette with a fridge. The star of the room was the massive bed with a mattress so soft, you felt like you were lying on a cloud. Before you went to bed, you decided to have a bath, because it would be silly to sleep in such a bed while being dirty.

While searching for pyjamas, you realised there were not many clothes in the wardrobe. Could this have been a guest room? You concluded that it was very likely. Anyway, you had nothing against guest rooms which looked like this. You found a thin-strapped, ankle-length nightdress, in a fabric so pleasant that it was impossible to resist wearing it.

The bathroom was ridiculously large, with two sinks to the left of the entrance, a huge bathtub in the middle and a shower that was built into, what you assumed, was a marble wall. On the opposite side of the entrance there was a vanity, with all kinds of beauty products and perfumes. You also didn't expect the bathroom to be in bright colours, and yet, the walls and floor were white marble, whereas all other elements were golden. You didn't even want to think about the fact that indeed, you had real gold faucets to your exclusive use.

You continued to think about the fact that it seemed too much. The lavishness overwhelmed you and, at the same time, distracted you from unpleasant thoughts. The washing up part, as always, was difficult for you. You tried not to look in the mirror at all. Eventually, you decided you didn't have the energy to try a bath, so you went for a quick shower.

It wasn't until you were in the shower, before you truly felt tired. You doubted it was an evening, but you felt like you'd just done a double shift at the hospital. It felt wonderful to have your hair washed, only to cuddle up later in an incredibly soft towel.

While changing into your nightgown, you didn't even glance in the mirror. You were unable to look at your naked body in the reflection. You were afraid, even though the bruises and wounds had long been healed.

Climbing onto the bed, you tried not to think too much. You didn't want to think about what you were going to do with the baby. You didn't want to think about the fact that you would probably have to explain to Caius and Marcus, why you were pregnant in the first place. You also didn't want to think about Aro seeing those memories. You were glad that you could fall asleep and, at least for a little while, be relieved of the burden of reality.

***

“Alright. What is there that we need to discuss?” you asked, trying to focus. You were back in the study with the round table, except that there were many more papers and books on it than the day before.

It was the strangest morning of your life. According to what Aro told you, you slept for about fifteen hours. He was by your side when you woke up, but not in such manner as to startle you in any way. He came to ask how you were feeling and what you felt like eating for breakfast. You thought that with a kitchenette in your room you would be preparing your own meals. You were very much mistaken. When you said that you would like to eat scrambled eggs, Aro only smiled and told you to get dressed.

You didn't have time to ask what you were supposed to wear since the walk-in-closet was almost empty, but he had already disappeared. It turned out that you were wrong again. In those fifteen hours, someone had managed to restock your wardrobe at least halfway. You were too surprised to look at everything, but you had never seen such expensive and well-tailored clothes. You picked out the first pieces you were sure, you would feel comfortable in.

After a quick shower, you dressed up and when you came out of bathroom, Aro was already waiting for you. He brought you your meal and while you were eating, he would talk to you about things that were of minor importance. It was hard not to notice that he was in a great mood and you had to admit that you were sharing his optimism. He waited patiently for you to end your meal so that both of you could join Marcus and Caius in the study. If your human memory didn't fail you, a great number of issues had to be discussed.

You smiled, seeing so many papers and books on the wooden table. Caius and Marcus were sitting in the exact same places as yesterday.

“You should’ve wake me sooner, you know. I never sleep this much” you said, also sitting in the same place you were assigned the evening before. Aro sat in the chair on your right.

“You should sleep as long as you feel like it, dolcezza,” said Caius, focusing all his attention on you. You blushed a little. You weren’t used to being in the centre of attention. It didn't make you uncomfortable before, but after what happened... It was going to take some time before you could fully recover.

“Caius is right. You should get plenty of sleep, my dear. If there’s no need to wake you up, we simply will not do it,” said Aro, whose smile has not left his face even for a moment.

When Marcus had finished whatever he was doing, you could finally move on to the conversation between the four of you. You thought that Aro will lead the conversation but, apparently, you were really going to discuss this together.

“I gathered you were a nurse before. You also worked with Carlisle,” started Aro, getting straight to the point. You nodded your head in agreement.

“Yes. I worked on Paediatric Intensive Care Unit but hospital in Forks is so small that I usually ended up also helping Carlisle with many things” you admitted, trying to divide your attention between three of them. If you were to stay a human for a little while, you needed to work on that. It was rather problematic to look at them all at once.

“We became friends when Bella started seeing Edward, but then the whole moving out thing came up and right now, I don't really know if I know Carlisle as well as I thought I did,” you said, without a trace of regret in your voice. Aro knew very well that you had a grudge against the doctor. Sure, Edward had left Bella, but you were sure Carlisle would have at least told you about the promotion. Now you knew it wasn't about that at all, and yet the grudge continued.

Aro smiled lightly, but you saw a glint of sadness in his eye.

“After you transformation I will be pleased to invite here my old friend Carlisle along with his family. I hope everything will work out fine between the two of you” he said with hope in his voice. You had no idea that Carlisle new Aro to the extent that he called him an old friend. You promised yourself to talk about this with Aro while in private.

“I’m…a bit concerned about this, actually” you said anxiously. “I know I need to become a vampire one day, but…” You never ended the sentence. Were you afraid of pain? No, certainly not. However, you wanted to begin with knowing your mates just a little bit more. You wanted to know more about this world you were supposed to spend eternity in.

“It’s perfectly alright to be afraid, [Y/N]” said Marcus, leaning closer to you. You felt stupid and young.

“I don’t think I’m afraid. I’m only…uncertain, because I know close to nothing about your lifestyle and I’m not sure I’m quite ready to experience it,” you tried to explain, as best as you could. Aro was a little bit ahead of Caius and Marcus, as he saw at least parts of such thoughts in your mind. Caius was the one to answer you.

“It understandable, [Y/N]. While you’ll be spending time with us, we’re going to explain everything to you. One step at a time, as my dear brother said earlier. And tell me, how do you like your chambers?” he asked, clearly curious about your opinion. You smiled, but it was a shy one.

“I love it, really, but, as I asked Aro earlier, isn’t it too much?” you suggested, trying not to offend him. Aro and Marcus smiled softly, Caius snorted.

“Nonsense, cara. With us, you'll have the very best of all worlds” he assured you.

“In that case, thank you, all of it is truly wonderful, although I feel a little awkward.”

Again, all three just laughed, but it wasn’t impolite in one bit. Aro put a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“My dear, no need for you to fret about such things as money. The most important person to us is you and we will give you whatever you need” he assured you, still with that magnificent smile. You nodded shyly, not being able to say anything. You had only been with them in a room for a short while and you felt like you were drunk. The aura they exuded was irresistible. Simultaneously you wanted to be with each of them separately and with all of them altogether. It was not an affection, not yet, but this strange attraction did not allow itself to be forgotten easily. You yearned to be in the same room with them, just to be able to talk to them and look at each other constantly.

“I have… I have a house in Forks” you said, after a few minutes of silence.

“Would you like to sell your property?” asked Caius, raising an eyebrow. Aro was also intrigued. Marcus just continued to look at you, almost as he studied your face.

“I guess. I don't think I want to go back there again” you said quietly, recalling how many bad things happened there. You were no longer at ease, not even to mention amused. The kings, just as it happened the day before, felt the shift in your behaviour. “Ever” you emphasised, but it was only a whisper.

Bad memories deluged your thoughts. Your mother's illness and death. Your father's accident, then his death. Also, the most recent events. You swallowed hard, trying not to cry.

“I don’t want this house. I don’t want to come back to this godforsaken place ever again,” you said, wiping away a single tear with your fingers. You were ashamed, but you could not hold back the tears that followed. You did not deserve to go through all of this.

It was Marcus who spoke first.

“Cara, Aro told us nothing about your past, but I can assure you no one is going to hurt you here. You can be certain about this” he said gently, handing you a handkerchief. You accepted it gratefully, then began to quickly wipe away your tears.

“Marcus is absolutely right, [Y/N]. There is nothing in this world that we cannot protect you from. We will always be by your side. You won’t be in danger ever again” Caius assured you, while you were still trying to get these tears under control.

Aro seemed as if he wanted to lock you in an embrace and never let you go again, but he restrained himself. You knew it was because of your memories, because he saw what happened to you, and because he literally lived through it with you. You thought that probably the latter pushed you towards this decision. Who could know better what you’ve been through, than a person who knew about all things that happened during your life? You wanted a hug, desperately, and you already knew, you could trust Aro on this one.

Once he saw the permission in your eyes, you immediately found yourself in his arms. As usual, he was immensely gentle and affectionate, stroking your hair while not touching your skin, so as not to accidentally read your thoughts. You cuddled into him trustingly, not caring that he was cold. You had known him one day and he had managed to evoke more trust within you, than friends that you had known for years.

When the crying eased and you calmed down slightly, you rested your head on his shoulder. Again, just like yesterday in the throne room, you felt as if you had been home for a long time. They were your home, not some pile of stones and a roof.

“I’m sorry” you whispered, trying not to be ashamed. Aro stroked your hair again.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, cara mia,” he assured you, with a gentle tone of his voice. You glanced at Marcus and Caius, but they only seemed at ease, as you finally were calm and not crying. Not a hint of jealousy. You didn't want Aro to let you out of his embrace and apparently he wasn't going to do anything of the sort either. You felt safe within his arms.

“Can you take care of ‘selling the house’ thing?” you asked, trying to remember what were you talking about before your emotional breakdown.

“Of course, [Y/N]. You could call Isabella later, to gather things you want to have here with you,” said Caius, exceptionally calm. Maybe his behaviour in the throne room was only an act? Or maybe he was being this way only because you were a mess and he didn’t want to upset you more than you already were.

“Yes, I’d like that, please” you said politely, wiping away the last of your tears with the handkerchief you got from Marcus.

“Are you ready to talk about the child, cara, or do you want to postpone it until some other time?” Aro asked you, trying to be as gentle with the word choice as possible. You hid your face in his jet black hair. It smelled of something you couldn't quite define, but it had a calming effect on you. You heaved a number of deep breaths. He gently caressed your shoulder.

“If you feel like sharing this, cara mia, please do. If you are unable to, do not force yourself” he advised, with so much sensitivity in his tone, that you wouldn’t expect from a man, yet alone from a vampire. It seemed that nor Caius, neither Marcus wanted to push you only to get this information.

You didn’t want to ponder about it for too long. It would definitely come to an end with you simply telling nothing at all. While you were not ready at all to talk about it, you needed to explain this somehow. You weren’t ready for any unexpected touch. You were adamant that current thing with Aro was caused by situation and your emotions. While the thought of Caius or Marcus touching you wasn’t downright awful, the idea of unexpected, unwelcomed touch made you twitch uncontrollably.

“As Aro was kind enough to mention…” started Marcus, probably to assure you no words were truly needed. You might, as well, have said it already. You didn't want anyone to accidentally touch you. You wanted to welcome the touch of your mates, just as you did with Aro a few minutes before. Being touched when you didn’t want would be catastrophic, not only for your mental health, but also for the stirring relationship with kings. It would have been worse than talking about rape itself out loud.

“I was raped a few weeks ago” you choked out, trying to make your voice sound as toneless and apathetic as possible. “I haven’t decided what to do with the… with it. Yet” you added, feeling stupid and extremely anxious. You wanted to get it over with, and at the same time you knew, it would have to be talked about at some point.

Nobody said anything. They probably waited for more words, maybe more emotions. You weren’t tense or embarrassed in front of them. Although, the uncertainty, of what were their thoughts on the topic, was a little bit intimidating. As minutes passed and you were saying nothing, Caius spoke up.

“Do you want us to kill him?” he asked, sweeping you off your feet with the question. You stared at him with amazement, completely forgetting about Aro embracing you. Your gaze didn’t discourage Caius a one bit. “Maybe some tortures first? What do you say, brothers?” he asked Aro and Marcus, his eyes remaining on you.

“Could you really do that?” you asked, before Aro or Marcus could answer. Caius started laughing out loud. There was something terrifying and, yet, incomprehensibly appealing about it. He leaned towards you.

“We would burn the whole world for you,” he whispered perilously. “If you want him to suffer, to be terrified, just as you were, say the word” he clarified, with a nasty smirk on his face. “We’ll make his last hours on Earth a living hell.”

Caius had something dangerous within himself. Something primal. He wasn’t so self-composed as Aro and as insular as Marcus. He was violent, fierce, vicious. It should scare you away from him. Only it didn’t. You believed every word he said and wanted it done. Why this little man should live his life peacefully, when you were traumatised and pregnant with a child you didn’t want in a first place?

“Revenge isn’t going to make you feel better” Aro whispered warningly into your ear, but still with calm and gentle voice.

“Yeah, I know that” you said to Aro, while still staring into Caius’s eyes. His also were crimson, but with lighter shade than Aro’s. You weren’t anxious anymore, nor were you in emotional breakdown. “But women he wants to rape will feel better if he doesn’t” you said, smiling almost as darkly as Caius. You got the feeling that you two were going to get along pretty well. Caius leaned back into his chair.

“Fantastic. We’ll talk about it more in following weeks, dear” he said, obviously pleased with the outcome of the conversation.

“Regardless if you keep the child, you’re going to be one of us” reminded Aro, to change the subject. When he mentioned transformation, you were far more conscious than few moments before. You tried not to be pessimistic about the change. You knew questions needed to be asked, but you had plenty of time to ask about anything you wanted and exactly three most experienced vampires in the world to answer them.

“We established it before, Aro” said Marcus for the first time in a while. You gathered that he wasn’t the talkative one here. You disentangled yourself from Aro's embrace and returned to your chair. Enough touching for today. However, you were sure that the sense of safety and comfort that he provided you with, would remain with you for a long time.

“I’m not able to tell you now if I want to keep the child” you said with confidence. “Anyway, I need to know what will happen, whether I decide to terminate the pregnancy or not.”

You were looking directly at Aro. You knew he had the final word here. You had a feeling how it’ll end, but you wanted to hear it anyway and have it straightforward. Aro sighed softly and smiled warmly after.

“If you’d like to keep the child, you’re going to give birth to it and when it’ll be grown up enough, it’ll become one of us” he said, his gaze extremely soft.

“Okay” you agreed. “And what if I’m not going to keep the child?” you asked, because it was the more probable occurrence. Aro saw it within your thoughts and you weren’t going to act like it wasn’t the choice you were closer to opt for. His smile remained gentle and warm, his eyes calm and soft on yours.

“The things that need to be done, are going to be done” he said, and you were extremely grateful that he didn’t use the ‘abortion’ word. You were too emotionally unstable to talk about it so straightforward. “We are going to know each other a little bit more. You’ll also meet our most trustful guards to feel safe. When you’ll be ready, one of us will change you” he explained, as simple as he could. You smiled at him a little sadly.

“Alright. Do I have any time limitations?” you asked curiously, throwing a quick glance at Caius and Marcus.

“No, dolcezza. You can take as much time as you want. You’re finally with us. That’s what truly matters to us” he reassured you. He was neither angry nor upset with the thought of you postponing transformation till the child is being born.

“One step at a time” he said cheerfully and smiled. You also smiled. It was almost impossible not to. “Cara mia, you’re so pretty when you smile. I hope you’ll be able to do that more and more here” this sentence made you blush. All three of them laughed, which made you blush even more.

“Thank you” you whispered, but it was a little unsure and hesitant. You saw concern on their faces.

“May I ask you one more question?” this time it was Marcus who asked.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Have you checked how far along are you? You’ve told us that maybe you’ll want to terminate the pregnancy, but my concern is about your health and how your body is going to catch up with the decision of yours, regardless what it’ll be” he said, very politely, trying not to offend you. You appreciated that dearly.

Marcus did ask very good question, though. You had no idea how far along you were. It was at least three months since it happened, so your first trimester should be over very soon.

“I don’t know. I haven’t checked. I couldn’t find the courage to do so. The only thing the doctor did, was to confirm the pregnancy” you answered, trying hard to remember if something else was being said.

“We should probably call the doctor, then” said Marcus, concern noticeable in his voice. Aro and Caius agreed with him, so did you.

“So, do I have my own cook at my disposal?” you asked to change the subject and relieve tension a bit. Enough of difficult subjects for today.

“Ah, yes, my dear, of course!” said Aro with extreme enthusiasm. “I hope you enjoyed your breakfast today. If something isn’t the way you want it, tell any of us right away.”

“Oh, yes, I did! Hey, and I told you that already!” you said, quite amused. “Am I not supposed to be the one, who forgets?” you asked, laughing.

Caius laughed most loudly, clearly amused by what you’ve just said. Aro smiled, watching you being in better mood, than before. Marcus was just Marcus, but he also smiled.

You spent the rest of the day with the kings, talking about many important and less important things. Mostly, you talked about the matter of selling your house, the things you will want to have with you in the castle, the fact that you should give up your job and your personal guard. The latter has been the cause of endless discussion. Later that evening, Aro decided that Renata, his personal guard, would be temporarily assigned to you.

You wanted to argue but there was literally no point in it. You knew that for the time you were still human, you had to have some sort of guard, because you couldn't even handle half a vampire on your own. You weren't tired at all, so after eating dinner you spent time with Caius and Marcus, trying to figure out what you could do together to get to know each other better. Unfortunately, Aro was obliged to attend to some important business, but in this case, you had already established some kind of a bond with him.

Caius and Marcus deeply respected your wish not to touch you in any way. You visited the library and were sure you had simply fallen in love. Sadly, most of the books were written in languages the existence of which you were previously unaware. Marcus was more than happy to offer you to study with him. To begin with, learning Italian. You had not yet discovered what Caius liked to do, but you were sure you would soon find out.

When they too had to attend to important matters, they escorted you to your room, and you decided it would be a good idea to call Bella. Not just about the house, but generally to let her know you were alive. When you’ve finally reached her, you both couldn’t shut up.

“Hi, sister!” you squeaked, overly excited. You heard her laugh.

“Hi! Are you fine, [Y/N]? I was starting to worry, the only thing that kept me from calling you was Alice,” she said and you laughed.

“Hi [Y/N]!” you heard Alice in the background. You threw yourself on the bed, so that you could lie on your stomach. You hugged your pillow and made yourself comfortable.

“Hi Alice!” you greeted her, smiling to yourself like a mad person, who you probably were, given the circumstances. “I’m happy to hear you, Bella, seriously. Are you at Cullen’s place?” you asked curious, as where Alice came from.

“Yeah, exactly. We were all worried here, you know” she admitted, you heard how anxious she was. You couldn’t help it but laughed.

“Well, how could you leave me in the lion's den like that” you joked and heard someone’s laugh.

“She’s fun. I need to meet her” you heard again and also laughed.

“This will probably happen sooner rather than later,” you answer to this mystery someone with confidence. Bella’s side fell silent. “But, you know, I guess I’m okay. I had fifteen hours of sleep today and the best scrambled eggs in my entire life” you admitted cheerfully, thinking about you waking up and eating your breakfast in Aro’s presence. You smiled widely. You heard someone talking in the background, but you had no idea what was this all about.

“That’s good because I was worried sick when we got out of that room” Bella admitted, trying to sound not too worried, though.

“It’s better than fine, you know. And how are you? You seriously were as white as a sheet while in throne room” you said and this was your turn to be worried about Bella again. “Hey, and I hope this asshole isn’t going to leave you again. My threat is in force,” you said in a threatening tone, knowing that Edward could definitely hear it. You heard the same laugh as before plus Bella’s laugh.

“I’m sure he’ll not be doing it again. Carlisle has already scolded him decently.”

Your heart ached a little after hearing Carlisle’s name. You thought he was your friend, or maybe it was beginning of friendship, and now you had no idea what to think about it at all.

“Good. How are you, Bells?” you asked again, hugging your pillow tightly.

“I’m okay, really, [Y/N]. No need to worry about me.”

Of course you were going to worry about her. She was just like a little sister to you. No way you’d stop worrying. Suddenly, you remembered what happened in the throne room and became seriously concerned.

“Have you set a date?” you asked, and again, the other side fell silent. This time completely. You sighed heavily. “I’m not a spy, you know, but I’m worried about you. We will need to talk about all of this. I get why didn’t you tell me, but, seriously Bella, your self-preservation instinct does not exist,” you scolded her, just a little. You had a feeling that she gave no fucks, no matter what anyone could say about this situation.

“Says the “I’m staying here, Bella” person” she gritted out with sarcasm. You rolled your eyes.

“One, they wouldn’t let me leave. Two, you were in danger and I was alright with sacrificing myself to save you. Three…” this time you fell silent, realising something important. “…I wouldn’t go. I’m not able to. This bond, whatever it is, it’s strong shit. You probably now it, as you have this with Edward. I have got it triple.”

After really long moment of complete silence, Bella spoke up.

“Why would you sacrifice yourself for me?” she asked, her question as heavy as storm clouds. You sighed.

“Because I’ve got nothing to live for, ya know? I was prepared that I wouldn’t get out alive,” you admitted with sad voice, but it was downright true.

“You’re pregnant, [Y/N]” she said, like it was something, which could immediately improve your well-being and quality of life. You felt like throwing up.

“Yeah. I’m pregnant with the child I don’t want, with a man I’ve never met, who forced himself on me and made my life more miserable than it already was. I should probably send him a card or something because, guess what, I’ve never considered that my life is going to be more crappy than it already was after my parents’ death.”

When you ended the sentence and no one said anything, you just sighed heavily.

“You’ve got the date set?” you asked again, merely curious about this and to change the topic.

“Not yet” she said, her voice sad and full of emotions.

“Then do it. They’re patient, to some extent, but don't tempt fate. I don’t want to attend yet another funeral,” you said bitterly, trying not to think at all.

“How can you be so calm about all of this?” Bella snapped suddenly, making you shift uncomfortably on bed.

“And how you can be so calm? How was this your fucking plan from the very beginning? Once again, I try to understand you, while not understanding you at all” you snapped too, tired of any games. Before she could answer, you continued:

“I’m not coming back. I wanted to ask you if you could go to my house and get some things, I can make you a list if it’s going to be easier.”

You thought telling her this right away would be better than if she wasn’t aware for weeks or months.

“What?! Why aren’t you coming back?” she asked with raised voice. You wanted to shout and scream but you didn’t. It was too much for one day.

“Because I’ve got nothing to come back to. You’re going to be a vampire anyway, so I’ll see you in some time. I’m selling the house and I want to leave the past exactly where it belongs” you explained, trying not to yell. The hormone fluctuations didn't make it easy for you at all.

Another silence. You were tired of all of this.

“Can you do this for me, Bella? Because if you can’t, I’m sure…”

She didn’t let you finish.

“Of course I’ll do it for you. Can we talk tomorrow about the details?” she asked, her voice calmed a bit.

“Yeah, sure. It’s well after midnight here anyway, so I should probably go to sleep. I’ve got doctor’s appointment tomorrow in the afternoon” you said, trying to sound casually. Last thing you needed now was to argue about anything with Bella.

“Okay, so, call me tomorrow?” she asked. “And be safe.”

“You too, Bells. Take care. I love you, sis” you said, trying to stop the forthcoming tears.

“I love you too, [Y/N].”

Long after this phone call, you couldn’t get yourself to sleep. You tried bath this time, but it was mostly useless. At least, you were clean. First time after the rape, you decided to touch your belly on purpose. It began to curve gently, and, apart from that, you still felt pain and pressure in your breasts. You put on a nightdress and went to bed, this time actually trying to get some sleep. You also tried not to think too much about what the future would bring.

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ynscrazylife · 3 years

Note

Could you do a request where the superfriends are misjudging the reader because Lena is just super detailed with them and everyone think they are a gold digger so they treat them badly, mostly ignoring them so they put some distance between them and Lena since they knows Lena needs more her friends than them but Lena proves them wrong. Thank you!

Gold Digger

Summary: The Superfriends suspect that Lena’s new girlfriend is a gold digger. When Lena finds out why they’ve distanced themselves from her and Y/N, she’s furious.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting!

Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

DCEU Masterlist | Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/lkromanoff

“Do you see how many gifts Luthor gives her?”

“I doubt she’s actually attracted to Luthor, I mean, who would want her? It’s the money, I bet.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if Y/L/N magically got a promotion too!”

In the beginning of their relationship, Y/N had gotten awfully upset when she heard those comments. Lena found her crying once and when she found out the reason, she scolded her employees and the news reporters that said such things and that stopped them . . . For a bit.

Around the holidays when Lena had spoiled Y/N and gotten her the most beautiful of clothes, the rumors started up again, growing bigger and bigger. Y/N learned to brush it off and was used to it by now; since Lena had always told her to pay them no attention, they were just desperate people spewing silliness and lies.

Her brunette girlfriend also introduced her to her friends, the “Superfriends” as they were nicknamed: Alex and Kara Danvers, Winn Schott, and James Olsen. Y/N was charmed by all of them and, perhaps it was because of how much she was used to the public’s behavior, she didn’t notice the reason why they were acting a little cold, standoff-ish, with her.

In fact, when Lena and Y/N were running late for game night, the group took it upon themselves to gossip. “Did you see the necklace Y/N was wearing the other night? So fancy . . . Lena said she got it for her,” Alex commented.

“I know,” Kara murmured, going through her file of memories. “Lena bought her that dress, too!”

“Doesn’t Y/N work at L-Corp, too?” Winn asked, oblivious to what the sisters were getting at.

“She’s probably dating Lena for a promotion or money,” Alex said in a sing-song voice before taking a gulp of her wine. Her words made the rest recoil.

“You think so?” Kara asked, scrunching up her face.

Alex shrugged and then thought. “If she comes in wearing a new thing that Lena bought her, will you consider it then?” She proposed.

The group thought on it and to humor her, they said yes.

Alex claimed victory, though, when the fashionably late couple waltzed in, Y/N wearing some shiny new earrings. From then on, they began to conspire a bit; talking, judging, until one night they reached a decision.

It was a couple weeks later and Alex and Kara had pulled Lena aside to talk to her.

“Is everything alright?” Lena asked, crossing her arms and glancing between her friends.

“We’re a bit concerned, Lena,” Kara began softly and slowly.

Lena laughed off her nerves. “What about?” She said, unable to think of anything that would worry them.

“It’s . . . Y/N. We’ve seen everything you’re buying for and we’re just a little concerned that she may be using you . . . for your money,” Alex admitted.

Lena’s jaw dropped in horror and her eyes practically glowed red, body seething with the newfound and big wave of anger washing over her like a wave. Except it didn’t settle down like a normal wave would into the tide, as more waves came, each bigger than the last.

She opened her mouth, hoping to form her raging and rushing swarm of thoughts and feelings into a coherent sentence, but a loud, shrilled gasp cut her off.

The there turned around to see Y/N rooted in place at the doorway. Her eyes were wide, tears glossing them, utter hurt and confusion in her orbs. “I was just coming to get Lena because her phone was ringing . . . You left the door open,” she said, defeated, before turning around and rushing out.

Lena took a big breath and turned back to her “friends”. “How dare you?!” She exclaimed, shocking them. “You know little of our relationship to be making these kinds of accusations! Y/N is not using me for money. Yes, I buy her gifts, because I love it when she’s smiling, and you know what she says every time I get her a gift? That she doesn’t deserve it . . . God, you are cruel,” she said, leaving no time for them to react or to form a response, as she rushed out, in pursuit of her girlfriend.

Lena almost ran past her where she stood at the elevator, her sobs echoing off the walls. The anger in her dissipated and she let her caring nature kick in, wrapping her arms around Y/N and pulling her into a hug. “Don’t listen to them, okay?” She whispered, playing with Y/N’s hair. The woman sniffed and nodded into her girlfriend’s shoulder.

Lena then leaned back and took Y/N’s face in her hands. “They know nothing,” she said, maintaining eye contact, and then kissing her before putting her arm around her waist. The couple went back to their apartment and shared a lovely night, just the two of them.

Permanent Taglist: @natasharomanoffismywife @hehehehannahthings @paulawand @blackbat2020 @cerberus-spectre @marrymemcgrath @celestialbarnes

DCEU Taglist: @stephanieromanoff @basiclesbianbitch @extraordinary-fangrl @hi-i-1 @mmmmokdok

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aetheternity · 3 years

Note

Hello! I’ve read your work and fallen in love! I don’t know if your requests are open, but I really like the Armin x you x Levi post you wrote🥰 may I please request a smut of this? Thank you!

First of all thank you! I'm so glad you're in love with my work. 😊 Second of all I'm sorry this took a while I got sick and writing smut while being sick is honestly disgusting. Plus I recently fell in love with Saiki K and have been binge watching it . 🤭 N e ways! Hope you enjoy this.

Warnings: Polyamory, threesome, Nsfw content.

Ok you'll be honest with yourself four years ago you didn't expect to be as happy as you are now.

After you'd grown sick of your living arrangement with your parents. You'd left that life behind. Moving into the small empty bedroom your best friend since your last year of middle school had open in his surprisingly tiny apartment.

And when you said tiny. You meant tiny.

Some rooms in the apartment weren't even big enough for someone to stand in with their arms outstretched. Not to mention a couple of your nights were spent huddled next to Armin on the couch with a huge blanket around your bodies because the heat randomly shut off.

You'd think a situation like that would be worse. But weirdly enough it had been the best for both of you as your relationship had always had a sort of looming sexual tension that went unexplored.

Long lingering touches to your waist got just a little bit longer while trying to squeeze past you in the bathroom. "Sorry I just need my brush." Armin would whisper. Warm palm against your hip. The ghost of his pelvic bone so close yet so far away. Just the realization making you arch in his grasp. You'd hold his gaze and in the back of your mind you could watch the soft slither of his tongue as it wet his gorgeous pink lips so many times over.

Of course it escalated with neither of you ever saying a word about your feelings. You spraying water from the sink on a shirtless Armin during a heat wave that just wouldn't let up as he walked into the kitchen wearing only grey sweatpants. (Yup.. only sweatpants.) The way they hung so low on his hips practically begging for your tongue to stretch across the expanse of his pelvis.

Him hugging you tight around the waist for literally any reason he could think of. (And he found a new reason everyday.)

And then it escalated a little further.. you pulling back the shower curtain to "complain" about him eating your leftovers. Him pulling you into his lap while the two of you watched tv.

And one day it just ended. And by ended it meant you two opened a bottle of wine on New Years and the ball wasn't the only thing that dropped. He had you laying ass up, legs spread and pussy sobbing as he rocked your hips for eight fucking hours with no stop. Did that table break? During hour five but Armin managed.

And then you guys moved. After a mutual agreement that the two of you were aware of each other's feelings and wanted to be together. You'd both managed to pool enough money together to afford a bigger place with two bedrooms. One unused and one that was immediately broken in with Armin over stimulating you the second the boxes were halfway unpacked.

Fast forward to a man named Levi moving in across the hall, him developing feelings for you over a long period of seeing you daily thanks to his best friend absolutely adoring you and constantly inviting herself into you and Armin's home.

After a while you'd started picking up on the signs of his affection too. His long glances that sometimes didn't even break when you looked back at him. The little gifts that began to show up at your door. The way he'd bring over food when he knew Armin wasn't home.

Once you'd started to develop feelings too Armin allowed you a night. One night to see if those feelings were actually real and what they might mean. Cue a night of carriage rides, roses (lots and lots of roses), stargazing and a kiss that damn near floored you and it was more than one night.

Two nights and Levi had had you on his couch with him snuggled in what would soon become your favorite blanket. Three nights and Levi had you eating his mom's homemade spaghetti. And by a week you were begging for Levi to fuck you harder, fingers shaking on his white tiled kitchen floor. His relentless thrusts still causing your thighs to tremble hours after.

He looked so lost in bliss in a way you'd never seen him before and you hugged onto him so tight you didn't even go back to Armin that night. Just curled up under your favorite blanket on his couch with his cock nestled deep inside you. His kisses littering your face till the moment you fell asleep.

It was definitely a cause for fear. An unrelenting kind and you sat down on the couch with Armin the next day explaining how deeply you loved them both. Only to be shocked when he brought up the topic of polyamory. It definitely shocked you a ton when Armin agreed to it after some explanation of his own feelings but the real surprise was Levi explaining how he'd also thought about it and would be up for it.

And thus began the beautiful bloom of a poly relationship after him and Armin had gotten better acquainted. You know after you guys all moved because Levi hated living in the apartment.

The three of you left to live in a gorgeous house. (For once you were living in a place with more than one floor and an island in the kitchen.) A place you'd been calling home for over a year now.

~~~~

Your breath hitched soft moans stuttering off your lips. You don't even remember who started it but here you and Armin were, his breath tickling every bit of your face with sweet languid kisses. One hand brushing over every curve you possessed while the other was softly brushing in between your pussy lips.

Your body perched in his lap as he sat against the headboard. Pillows scattered around the two of you as you writhe and begged for more of his touch.

You were probably drawing blood where you were grasping his shoulders but you couldn't even begin to think about it. Armin's warm breath tickling your lips in a soft chuckle. The tips of his fingers softly caressing your clit as you let out little whimpers of pleasure.

"You promise you'll moan nice and loud for daddy's fingers?" He asked, closing the distance between your lips with a much slower kiss.

"Yes." You could feel his nail brush inside and you almost buried his fingers but his harsh grip on your ass paused your movements. Your thighs shook and you rubbed your forehead against his. Leaned into his broad chest with both hands. "Please daddy.."

"Good girl."

With one more small kiss he laid you out flat on the bed free hand coming up to squeeze your areola. With a tap of your outer thigh you spread for him watching the way his spit dribbled off his lips and directly onto your already wet hole. The mixture making a much wetter sound as he pumped two fingers fully inside.

With a gasp you yanked the sheets hard, almost squeezing your thighs together. His fingers curling, snatching your breath away. The bed creaked a little as he repositioned himself, stomach flat against the sheets with his mouth on your thighs. Spreading a soft array of little open mouthed kisses.

"A-Armin.."

"Keep your ankles in the air, love. I don't wanna punish you tonight." He breathed

You sucked in a breath, reaching out to hold your ankles. Almost immediately you felt embarrassed by the high pitched moan that fell off your lips at the first long slide of his flat tongue over your pussy lips.

And then right in between them in a beckoning motion over your clit that had you biting into your lip. The smile on his lips so evident over your core.

You lifted your head in time to watch the slow drip of more of his saliva stretch between your clit and his bottom lip. Tongue immediately outstretched with eyes drawn to your features as he lapped it back up again.

With his free hand he spread apart your pussy lips a little further giving your clit an almost harsh knead with his thumb. The friction making you cry out and almost drop your legs onto his back.

His fingers carefully slipped out of you to your own dismay. The slow drag against your walls almost painful, that is until his tongue was sliding in to replace them. Giving your inner walls a massage that made your gaze fall white.

You felt him hum. Sweet vibrations flowing through your cunt as he slurped down every bit of your juices. His arms snaking around your legs to yank you so much closer as he pushed his tongue impossibly deeper.

"Daddy.." You begged

"Shh, keep moaning for me baby.." He hummed, flicking your clit with his thumb.

You obeyed with an arch that probably could've launched you off the bed if not for Armin's tight hold. Your eyes squeezed shut, brain going completely empty.

"Such a good girl." He breathed "So good for daddy."

The pad of his tongue stretched over both sides of your lips with little nibbles. Sucking the skin into his mouth roughly. You could feel his eyes on you, practically see those bright blues pop with lust as he pressed his tongue back inside with languid thrusts.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ear and you felt the hold he had on your legs loosen. His two fingers delving and sliding back into your warm fluttering cunt. The overwhelming pleasure forcing your hands back on the bed holding out for dear life.

"Daddy.. daddy please.." You cried

"Getting close baby?" When you nodded vigorously he smirked. "Come on baby almost there." He hummed

He sped up his tongue, fingers stretching you open quickly adding another. Your breath caught with a high pitched cry that left tears flowing over your cheeks. An endless chorus of his name flooding off your lips. His own moans sending vibrations through your core.

Your stomach tightened, toes curling in the air as you tried and failed to steady your breathing. One of your hands unfurled itself from the sheets now sticking to your sweat soaked body. Carding it in the beautiful blond locks between your legs.

"Baby.. baby I'm about to-" He sucked your clit into his mouth and your eyes went hazy, head falling back.

"Finish baby, come on.." He whispered

Your lips spewed curse words between every breath lost. When his fingers tapped smoothly against your g-spot you knew that was it for you. And with one last shudder you came around his fingers, screaming his name as your orgasm racked over you in a loud burst.

And he licked up every drop, nose buried to collect it all like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

"A-Armin.." You shuddered body flush and hazy.

His fingers feel wet, a combination of your pussy juices and the sweat between both your bodies. You slowly blinked in the darkness combing strands of his hair back as your lips made contact. The mixture of your taste and his on your tongue, in an almost overwhelming way.

You tensed under him. Hands stretching over every part of him you could reach only for him to back away a bit. With your nails still gently grazing over your back he pressed his damp forehead into yours, fingers sweeping over every bit of bare skin.

With barely any warning he hoisted you to your feet next to the edge of the bed. And you reached out for his shoulders as he slipped his boxers down his legs. Inching himself back up to the headboard.

"Take a seat." He gestures, laying back.

He's got a hand around your waist in seconds. His cock soon just below you, so so close to where you wanted it. Where you needed it so badly.

Your knees came down on both sides of him, carefully administering your weight evenly until every inch of his hot cock was stretching you open. His tip soon resting firmly against your cervix like it always did and you both relinquished a sweet gasp.

"F-fuck.. so full.." You huffed

It felt like it had been so long when in reality it'd probably only been a week. And yet you were moaning like you'd been starved of him. Rocking your hips like he'd punished you with no cock for months.

Suddenly his arm wrapped itself around your waist again. He hoisted you up with a strong hold moaning directly in your ear as he thrusted up into you like it was the first time. His knees pressing your thighs open.

A hiss falling off your lips as he kissed over your shoulder and collar. Hands squeezing both your breasts like they were his personal stress balls.

You hadn't been aware of how hard Armin was going until the rough knocks of the bed hitting the walls finally began to settle in your ear. But you could barely care Armin's cock was hitting every spot inside of you and your leg was starting to twitch where it was forced outward.

His breath grew more ragged with every thrust. Sweat dripping off your forehead onto his. His sweet murmurs of praise turning you on even harder.

"Love, you take me so well.. You're doing so amazing…." He moaned

You leaned your head into him, feeling that sweet familiarity deep in the pit of your stomach. You reached around to the back of his head, yanking a little rougher than intended on his scalp.

The uneven slaps of your skin meeting managed to keep the two of you distracted until the sound of the door practically slamming into the wall shook you both to a halt.

Levi's dry sigh filled the once noisy bedroom. "Do you two have to make so much noise? I'm busy with a work project."

Despite Levi's gripes Armin angled his cock back towards your g-spot barely grazing it but it was enough to force a little mewl from your lips.

He laughed, pulling you a little closer. "Mm sorry Levi. Didn't know we were being so loud."

There was a small glint in Levi's eyes. The quick dart of his pupils to where you and Armin were joined and then back up to your face putting a devious grin on your face.

"You should take a break, daddy." You said

"Tch." Levi huffed, "This thing needs to be done by tomorrow. I don't have time for this."

You reached out for him with one arm. An arm that unsurprisingly didn't even reach close to him from his stance near the bedroom door. By this point Armin's thrusts were going at almost the same pace as before. Not as rough but enough to resume the gentle rock of the bed.

You let out a soft moan as Levi took the bait, slowly walking over to the bed. His finger carding affectionately through your tousled hair. He leaned in, pecking your kiss swollen lips.

If there was anything you knew for a fact about Levi it was that he always had a hard time saying no to you.

To be completely honest it didn't surprise you that Levi was already more than a little hard. Though it did surprise you how easily he gave in today. Watching with unchanged expression as you pulled his belt from the loops and buckle, undoing it with a light clatter which quickly followed the almost inaudible sound of his zipper being pulled down..

You let out a relaxed hum, lip pressed between your teeth at the sight before you. His thick cock poking out over the hem of his underwear. You grasped at the sheets with one hand a little shaky as you slipped his boxers down over his ass until they pooled at his ankles.

Armin slipped his hand under you right up against your stomach. Levi immediately followed suit already knowing what he was doing. He stepped over to the edge of the bed as Armin laid you down on your stomach. Levi's wet tip dangling in front of your lips. Before you could even register it Armin had your hips in the air slipping all the way back inside with a loud gasp.

Meanwhile you were wetting your lips. Hand curving up and down the length of his dick. You inched forward on your elbows to slowly surround Levi's dick in the warm confines of your mouth. The hiss he let out sending shivers over your spine.

"How's it feel? I know how much you love taking two dicks." Levi grunted

Armin reached forward, tugging your hips in close with one hand. The other hand on your ass as leverage. Allowing him to ease out to his tip before slamming back inside. Your eyes rolling back with pleasure.

As if it wasn't already difficult enough to take Levi he wasn't even fully hard yet. Just expanding in your mouth as you coaxed your throat into relaxing enough to slide every thick inch down.

"I know that pretty mouth can do so much better than this." He reaches out with zero warning to grab a fist full of your hair. Yanking you forward with barely any restraint.

Though you must admit the sound that leaves his throat when he does is almost worth the tears pricking over your hollowed cheeks.

"Baby I'm so fucking close.. I'm gonna fill your pussy." Armin sighs, his hand comes down to wrap around the base of your throat angling your mouth into Levi's rough thrusts.

Your heart is hammering but you close your mouth as best as possible without biting to take Levi's cock. Already feeling the effects on your jaw as he presses in a little harder with a deep moan.

By now his cock is fully hard rocking you back into Armin with deep rough thrusts that almost make you gag.

"That's my g-irl.." Levi grunts, even though they're small his nails dig into your scalp so roughly you could swear you felt something trickling down to the back of your neck.

You grip the bed sheets with both your toes and fingers, the creaking around you unmistakable.

"I'm cumming.. I'm cumming!" Armin cries out and you'd honestly give anything to see his gorgeous blue eyes roll back and the little smile that curves against his lips as he climaxes.

You finish just a couple seconds ahead of him. Eyes unfocused where they roll into shut. Little sounds muffled by the thick dick stretching open your throat. The feeling of Armin's cum flooding your walls makes you whimper and he lets out the softest moan as his orgasm slowly whittles away.

Your gaze soon fixes on Levi only to be met with the prettiest tint of pink brushed right up against his cheeks. His eyes pressed tightly closed, lips parted over every harsh breath.

It didn't take long for the sweet drag of Armin's cock to begin again. His light touches to your spine making you arch a little higher.

"You look so fucking pretty, you know that?" Armin mummered, cock slamming into your g-spot. "Doesn't she look gorgeous, Levi?" He asked with a little whimper.

Levi's eyes fluttered open a hint of a smirk cresting on his lips. "Like she's gonna.. pass out.." He combed your hair back again gripping it a little tighter forcing your head up. He paused at the back of your throat. "Can't take it baby? Want me to pull out?"

You grunted at every slam of Levi's dick until that all too familiar sound flooded your ears, followed by almost every curse in the english language.

"You're doing so well.. f-uck.." He moaned "Swallow my cum.. swallow it. I'm almost there.."

Levi hoisted his leg up against the already shaky foot of the bed using as much leverage as possible. His fingers tugging your head forward on every pump of his thick cock. Mixing with the loud gasps of Armin behind you as he also neared his end.

And with one more deep thrust Levi was spilling down your throat with a choked groan. Cock head nestled deep in your tired throat holding you still as his orgasm flooded from his body.

You were a little relieved when he stepped back allowing your jaw to relax. The still wet tip pressing sweetly against your lips.

"Such a pretty girl.." He said, so low you thought you imagined it.

"Switch with me." You heard Armin say

You sighed as his cock left you, feeling yourself immediately being flipped onto your back. His large hands coming down from where he now stood over you to perfectly envelop your breasts. Meanwhile Levi was pulling your hips close and sliding in as effortlessly as he always did.

"Levi!" You threw your head back

Armin smirked over you, his hands kneading a little rougher. You arched into his touch pressing the balls of your heels into Levi's back, pushing him just a little deeper-

God it was perfect. The feeling of his dick so much different from Armin's but honestly just as perfect. The moan you let out was downright pornographic and you pressed your head back into Armin's thigh.

One of Armin's hands came up to your face brushing aside your hair soaked in tears. "You look perfect. But I wanna make you more perfect."

He pulled himself off the bed, sliding a hand over your cheek. "I wanna paint your face baby. It's so perfect.." He mumbled already pumping his long dick over your face. "You'll let me right.." He whimpered

When he leaned in again it was to press a little kiss to your lips. "P-please.."

The curve of his lips made your heart flutter in your chest. "Mm.. let Levi see when I'm finished."

One of Armin's hands sat rather aggressively on the edge of the bed. And you could see the way every vein in his hand moved. Grip tightening a little with every pump of his cock, back and forth his knuckles practically ripping through his skin.

You gasped as Levi leaned over you, fat cock pressing into your G-spot. "Stop ignoring me." He grunted

He slid his teeth beneath your earlobe administering a barrage of sweet nibbles mixed with more aggravated bites.

"Levi.. Levi!!"

Armin gasped above you, "Almost there.." He moaned

A bright white was starting to take over your vision as you shut your eyes, mouth hung open for Armin's cock with absolutely no sound coming out as Levi continued to use your tired pussy.

Small huffs of fuck littering the air. You bore your nails into Levi's back and chest. His leg shaking against you as he pushed through his last thrusts.

"I-I'm.. I- shit!" Armin came first, missing Levi's head by a hair (literally) as ropes of hot cum plopped onto your face, you barely registering it as your own orgasm hit you like a two ton truck. Levi's thumb coaxing small spasms from you through your clit.

Levi huffed, face scrunched, lip bitten and eyes shut as he came for the second time with a hard gasp.

The room went quiet for what couldn't have been any longer than 2 minutes before Armin was pulling himself up from where he'd slumped over the bed.

"Levi, look how sexy she looks with my cum all over her face." He cooed

It stuck to your eyelids as you blinked though ultimately chose to keep your eyes shut. You felt Levi's small chuckle and the brief feeling of him slipping out of you to your own disappointment.

"Open baby." Armin said

As soon as you did his fingers slipped into your mouth. The salty/sweet residue of his cum littering your tongue. Quickly joined by Levi who swiped his thumb across your eyelids before pressing it into your mouth.

"How're you feeling?" Armin asked as you opened your eyes slowly.

You blinked in their faces standing above you with a small smile. "Tired."

"You can't sleep until you've washed off. It'll be better for you anyway." Levi replied, heading into the bathroom.

Armin quickly followed after carefully lifting your fatigued body off the bed. It took a couple minutes for Levi to get the temperature to perfect but once he did you slowly felt yourself sinking into perfectly warm water.

The soreness in every part of your body already beginning to dissipate as you leaned back against the edge of the tub.

"We did a number on you hmm?" Armin asked, carding your hair back.

"I'll make you some tea once you're cleaned up. Then we can cuddle under your favorite blanket." Levi said

"Thank you guys but I feel like I could fall asleep here." You say lifting your thighs for Levi to clean under.

"I promise I'll pay you back big time tomorrow." Armin replied, rubbing your arm with soap.

Your lips curled up deviously, "Now that I look forward to." You grab his chin pulling him into you, pecking his lips.

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