#it sounds so emotional and devastating yet so beautiful

[davidtennantgenderenvy]

On David Tennant and Aging

So, I’ve seen a lot of posts in response to Tumblr users’ habit of affectionately calling their favorite middle aged dudes “old men”, David Tennant in particular, saying things like “clearly you’ve never met an actual old person”, “omg you talk about these guys like they’re 80”, “please be normal about people aging”, etc. And on one hand, all of these statements are objectively right and true! But as someone who’s always been really fascinated by and found a lot of beauty in getting older (which I’ve explored in some of my writing on A03 because nobody else is going to do it for me), I’d like to provide a bit more nuance on how I think this label applies to David in particular.

David, obviously, in literal terms, is not “old”, at least not to me- I don’t personally consider people old until they get past 60. 52 is middle aged, simple as that. And yet, when I see David stuck with the “old man” label, it still somehow feels weirdly right, for a number of reasons.

It annoys me so much when people say David “hasn’t aged a day since Doctor Who”, because, well…

He clearly has. A lot. He’s got forehead creases, deep crows’ feet and eyebags, and I think that post-Fourteen we’re gonna see him rocking the grey temples a LOT more. He also has the voice of an older man now, his upper range is still there but the default is much more deep and rich, with a gravelly, rumbling quality that just goes straight through you. I personally think Broadchurch was when David finally started to embrace looking his age- Alec Hardy just wouldn’t have been served by Ten’s fresh-faced boyishness.

Obviously, these are the kinds of changes you’d expect any 52-year-old man to have, but something about David just makes it all seem a bit more… intense? The expressiveness of his face combined with his almost gaunt frame makes his wrinkles very prominent, and when he works his voice to its emotional extremes, his lower register can sound positively ancient, to devastating effect.

David, I think, is someone with an old soul- I don’t think he could be as good as he is at playing ancient characters like Crowley and The Doctor if he weren’t. He has lived so many lives, given so much of himself to so many characters, often incredibly tragic ones, and I think it wears on him. David also has five kids. FIVE. Do you know how exhausting it is to be one of the hardest working actors alive and be a present, loving father to even ONE child? But David somehow does it anyway! Nowadays I see him and my heart breaks because he looks so tired, so weary and fragile. But he’s all the more beautiful for it to me because I know that that is because he is kind. He’s a deeply empathetic person who feels and lives to the absolute fullest, and that story is written so clearly on his face, along with every other story he has ever been a part of.

There’s other things about David that make the label endearingly fitting- his utter hopelessness when it comes to technology, for instance. And he’s just got that warm, wise, grandpa energy too sometimes- look at that above Fourteen picture and tell me I’m wrong!

I once showed my friend who’d only seen David in Doctor Who and Harry Potter a picture of David from Around The World in 80 Days. It was a particularly emotional scene, and his face had just the most beautiful expression of compassion and sadness, every wrinkle on full display. And she said, in a less than complimentary fashion, “he looks so old!” Which, of course, offended me quite a bit at first. But to me, referring to David as old almost feels like a badge of honor, something he’s earned by living fully and selflessly, working hard and being wise and compassionate beyond his years. I think David himself is secretly more than a little insecure about the fact that he’s getting older. There’s sadness behind every jovially self-depreciating remark he’s made about his age in the past year, particularly in comparing himself to Ncuti Gatwa. I know how much David struggles with his impostor syndrome and how people perceive him, and I can clearly see in his eyes the fear of being discarded, the anxiety he feels about if he’ll still be as loved as he was back in 2007 now that he’s closer in age to King Lear than he is to Romeo. So I hope David knows it’s a privilege to watch him grow older, to watch his soul and talents deepen with the crinkles around his eyes. If I, in my silly goofy tumblr girl-ness, call David Tennant an old man, it’s because it’s a label that suits him beautifully- even if it isn’t TECHNICALLY an accurate one yet.

#David tennant #doctor who #the tenth doctor #the fourteenth doctor #good omens #crowley #shakespeare #around the world in 80 days #phileas fogg #pro aging #growing old

[meraxesmoon]

Ok but imagine the adventures of Daemons Bastard!reader and grumpy grandpa Balerion!!!!

I’m seeing reader coming out and spending her first nights with Daemon and his fam sneaking out to gramps and curling up against him and just crying silently until she falls asleep😭😭😭

Then some random losers one day make fun of reader in the palace courtyard for being a bastard and gramps just pokes his head in and is NOT amused

Gramps just sensing when reader wants to leave somewhere and just yoinks her out of whatever situation she’s in

note: pap pap balerion supremacy

warnings: yandere content, but like, centered around bastard! reader and her dragon, if you squint readers mother is a sex worker, first time dragonrider, I'm obsessed with bastard (name), like she's my daughter tbh

┍━━━━━━━ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗━━━━━━━┑

She absolutely hated Dragonstone, or whatever this cursed place was called.

It was dreary and cold, but she supposed that the weather matched her emotions perfectly. She had a good life before the Targaryen's entered it. She had lived peacefully with her mother and two younger brothers. They had a small hut away from the city, and it had been beautiful. Her mother had a love for plants, so they had a gorgeous, yet humble garden at the back of their home. (Name) thinks that she misses her cat the most, and her brothers.

Mostly her beloved mother.

Her sick mother, who could barely work and provided for them via means she did not appreciate. Everything had been fine until he had shown up. The day (Name) met her father was the worst day of her life. She had been looking after her younger brothers when a white-haired man showed up on their doorstep, and the way her mother's face contorted at the sight of Daemon should have been her first warning that the night would end up terribly.

And it absolutely had.

She had been devastated when she was dragged away from her mother and brothers, and she had been horrified when he loaded her onto his dragon Caraxes like it was nothing. It was, obviously, her first time seeing a dragon, and Caraxes had been huge, both in size and personality.

It had been horrible the rest of the night, because Daemon had forced her to meet his wife and children. Seeing Aegon and Viserys reminded her of her younger brothers, so she had wandered off to the shore once dinner was done to sob about the predicament she had found herself in. (Name) had always been tough, her mother would call her that all of the time.

Now she just felt vulnerable.

Feeling alone, she collapses against a mount of rocks, her small body shaking as she thinks about the circumstances that had led up to this. Except... the mountain of rocks started to shake and make odd sounds. (Name) shoots up from her leaning position and tries to look for a quick escape. Instead, she breathes heavily as the mountain of rocks becomes a very, very large dragon. He was about ten times larger than Caraxes, and he was so dark that the only clear thing she could see were his smoldering eyes, slitted and narrowed at her.

Now, (Name) may have not been around dragons her entire life, but everyone knew about The Black Dread.

"Oh, Gods..." she mumbles, her lips turned downwards in a nervous manner. (Name) looks at the ginormous creature in front of her and can't help but take notice of how beautiful he was. Once her eyes got accustomed to the darkness of night, she could see his black scales and his large snout. Balerion's nostrils flare as he glowers down at the small human before him, she was so tiny that she looked like an ant to him.

Wiping the tears from her cold cheeks, (Name) wonders why this fearsome creature hasn't burnt her to a crisp yet. She had woken him from a nap, and she knew how unpleasant that could be. Not only that, but she had heard that Balerion was the oldest dragon, even more old than the Queen of Dragons, Vhagar. He was well past two hundred at this point, and (Name) was surprised to find him here of all places.

Though... Daemon had mentioned something about his older brother dying recently and that the king was a good man. King Viserys had been Balerion's last rider, so maybe the dragon was just trying to find somewhere to rest. So, this had been her uncles dragon, (Name) realizes as she stared at the majestic creature in front of her.

Balerion lets out a loud sound, one that sort of reminds her of a sound a cat would make when excited, and he bumped her with his nose, knocking her over immediately. (Name) let's out an 'oof' before falling on her behind. However, a giggle left her lips as she did so, finding the whole situation quite funny. This dragon, who was about fifty times her size, just booped her with his huge snoot.

Balerion adjusts his weight, and his huge, battered wing comes down next to (Name), and he lets out another sound, this one more whistle-like. His crimson eyes connected with (Name)'s, and she freezes when she realizes that she can understand what he wants from her. It was like something just connected in her brain, chaining her consciousness to Balerion's.

Hesitant, she grabs onto one of the many horns sticking out of him and she starts to climb up Balerion's wing, her skin tingling as she felt his scales. Balerion had many scars and blemishes on his body, showing how experienced he was, and (Name) found that amazing. She makes it up to his back finally, and settles on a saddle, which was much too big for her. Her small hands gripped the steering straps and she nervously wraps them around her wrists, just to make sure she wouldn't go flying off.

(Name) didn't know High Valyrian, but she remembered something Daemon had said before Caraxes had started flying.

Steeling herself, (Name) shouts out the word.

"Soves, Balerion!"

And they fly.

i just made this a lil drabble of the first night, I'll do more parts bc i love this concept ♡ also I love dissecting how the bond between a dragon and rider works, it's so interesting to me

tbh vhagar being claimed by aemond is my favorite scene

#cw: yandere content #cw: yandere blog #cw: yandere #yandere daemyra #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere team black #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere content #yandere #kay writes #rhxegal

[alltoolewis]

Timeless- Mason Mount

I'm finally off for the summer & finally back writing! This one is super special and is inspired by timeless by Taylor swift, if you haven't heard the vault track please listen to it while reading this! This has to be one of my favourite things I have ever wrote... Hope you all enjoy & I can't wait to write more! Hope this apologies for my absence Love you guys x

P.S I will not comment on him leaving to united btw... as Liverpool fan I am devasted 😒

Summary- When you and Mason are cleaning your nan's attic you discover a book of your grandparents love story... helping Mason think of the perfect anniversary present for you...

Words- 2.6k

"Mase please.." you squealed as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, taking you by surprise as you continued to search through the old dusty boxes "This really needs doing and I never would of agreed to let you help if I knew you'd be messing around like this!" You didn't realise that agreeing to clean you nan's old attic would result in your clingy boyfriend of almost 5 years joining you. What was suppose to be a solo task, turned into a duo one the minute his brown eyes grew wide at your claim that you were leaving him for a couple of hours alone.

"I didn't know showing my beautiful girlfriend of 5 years love was classed as messing around..." he pouted, loosening his grip of you but of course not fully as his arm still hovered your waist. "It's not 5 years yet loser" You smirked, throwing something you believed was an old sock that was hiding in the box at him "We're still 3 weeks of that title!"  You still couldn't believe that it had already been that long. It felt like just yesterday that he caught your attention in the dimmed lightened room, his laugh being the loudest noise as the speakers blaring out the music you had always hated silenced, allowing you to hear what has since been your favourite sound. Since that night you had been by each others side, through the ups and downs, the spot next to him was always yours and vice versa... there was no Mason without (y/n) and he prayed there'd never have to be!

Silence filled the room once more, however the smiles never faded as you sorted through all your nans precious things. Growing up you never thought of your nan as a hoarder, her house was also tidy barely anything on display except the odd pictures of core memories but little did she know that she kept the purest things locked up here. From her old ballet shoes to her old school books, her old prom dress to a rock she found on her secret dates with your late grandfather... she kept everything.

"What's this?" Mason asked curiously, lifting up a book covered in dust and cobwebs. Being nosy of his new finding, you quickly went to where he was sitting next to him on the old fragile footstool, floor creaking as you did so. Your eyes hovered over the brown book in his hands, that it was safe to say that  time has took its toll on. Crouching down in front of him, your hand swept across the front cover, tears immediately filling your eyes as you read the words...

'THE STORY OF ANNIE & JOHN'

The words were followed by a photo of them together, smiles brighter than the stars as the look of love was written in there eyes. You had already heard the story of your grandparents many times from your nan... but seeing it in hidden pictures made your whole world freeze.

Noticing the sudden emotion in your face, Mason sighed "You okay, darling?" wiping away the fallen tears as they fell down your cheek, letting his hand hover there as a guard. Nodding, you gulped "Yeah... yeah I'm good.." Smiling he patted his knee, silencing telling you to come over which of course you obeyed. 

Now the book was on your knee as Mase held you tightly on his lap, head leaning over your shoulder as he traced comforting shapes on your arm. "Are you going to have a look honey?" He could see your clear hesitation to open it, as your hands strummed over the outskirts of the pages. Apart of you wanted to open the book, see the love of your grandparents everybody talked so dearly about, the love that was always compared to yours and Masons, however the other part of you couldn't help but think you were invading the privacy... you knew there story like the back of your hand. A secret romance that was forbidden by there families, your grandmother being in a privileged family who had a tradition to pick other privileged people for there children to fall in love with. While your grandad was the son of the maid, 2 years older than her but fell head over the heels the second he caught eyes with in his word 'a princess' They hidden what they had for years, scared that there families would tear them apart... but faith took its role and 12 years later they were happily married as a runaway couple, ready to start there new lives together.

As your mind wondered away, you felt his hand lace over yours, squeezing it tightly "It's okay (y/nn)? She would want you to see this??" You knew he was right... she'd be screaming for you to open it if she was there. Listening to him, you squeezed his hand back before opening it up. 

The pages looked just as battered as the front cover, but the love was still clear as rain. The book had different chapters, just like a fairy tale. It began with there first year, where your pop's mum first got the job and he was allowed to be involved in the staff picture where your grandmother stood just 5 people away. 

"I didn't know your grandad was in the war.." Mason whispered, scared to ruin the moment as you were flicking through there years together. It was there 7th year 'together'... the year your dad got drafted to fight in the war. "He didn't want to go" You mumbled back, hand touching the envelopes your nan had clearly stuck in the book "He wanted to stay with her although no one knew about them... he wrote her love letters, signed them off as Dave so no one knew it was from him"

"Didn't she call him Dave all the time..." Mason chuckled, squeezing your hip gently. He only had a few years with your nan, while with your pops he only had 1 short one & for the longest time he was convinced he was called 'Dave' "Yep!" You giggled back "Even after all those years together she still called him it. It was there secret code word..."

For the next couple of hours you flipped through the rest of the book, pausing to read the letters, see the small details of the grainy images. From there wedding to the birth of your mum, from the day they ran away together to the day your grandad came back to find your nan had been set up to marry someone else... it had all be recorded in the book.

Your heart broke when you flipped to the last filled page in the book, your grandads order of service leaflet from his funeral. Your heart broke even more when it came clear that your nan had placed it in by herself... ending there story together...

Noticing the tears falling faster down your face, Mason closed the book placing it gently down as he wrapped his arms tighter than ever around you, allowing you to sob in his chest. He didn't say much as you cried, just rubbed your back and whispered a few words of comfort, knowing what you needed most was time to absorb what you just saw.

Once you calmed down, you lifted your head back up to look at his warm brown eyes, his hand instantly going to your cheek "They we're amazing (y/n).." He smiled, causing you to mirror it back "They would been so happy you got to witness it through there eyes..."

"They were timeless..." You breathed out, looking down to the book on the floor that was bound to come home with the two of you.

"Just like we will be.."

Your head shot up to look at him with blood shot eyes "You think?"

"Oh I know we will!" He smiled, causing you to cuddle deeper into him "I hope so Mase..."

---------------

3 weeks later.....

"Mase stop!" You laughed as he picked you as you went to put the key in your new shared home in manchester  "Please stop we need to get in before it rains... stop messing around!"

"I didn't know showing my girlfriend of 5 years of affection was classed as messing around..." He sulked as your laugh continued to echo around the house, taking the heels that had killed your feet all night "and before you start I can call you that now!!"

"I know..." You smiled, turning around to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss, one of many that day "and I couldn't be prouder to now say it.." Mason returned the kiss as he muttered I love you, which of course you mumbled back. Somehow you two ended up in your bedroom, his jacket through on the floor as the zipper on your dress began to be pulled down.

Just as it was about to get even more heated, he pulled back causing you to sigh dramatically. "Don't be dramatic lovie, we have all night to do that.." He laughed, dragging you to the end of the bed "But first I want to give you your final present of the night.."

"but mase you've already given me loads today.." You groaned, hating how much he had already spoiled you today. Giving you far to many presents, making you bed in breakfast and then taking you to the fanciest restaurant in Manchester. You honestly didn't know how he'd make the day even better before he pulled out a box placing it gently on your knee... "Now this one is kind of for the both of us..." He smiled wrapping his arm around you "But I think you'll appreciate it.."

Carefully, you untied the little red bow on the box lifting the box up with the expectation of finding more personalised jewellery. However your heart dropped to the floor as you saw something you'd never thought you'd see...

A book... Similar to the one of your grandparents but instead of there names it read...

'THE STORY OF (Y/N) & MASON'

And just like the other one, a picture displayed below it. One of you and him at the champions league final, your smiles brighter than stars and the same look of love they had.

"Oh my god M-Mase..." You speechlessly gasped, covering your mouth as tears escaped your eyes "I c-can't believe it.."

His eyes mirrored yours with tears as he placed his hand on top of yours "Open it darling.." He whispered, voice full of love "Don't be scared to read this one... it's ours only"

Listening to him like always, you opened the book, smile immediately spreading across your face as you flipped through to see the many filled pages of your story so far.  The first day you met at that party, the first selfie you took together, your first chelsea game, the day you moved together... every memory shared together was captured in perfect unison to the orginal.

"I didn't even know this exsisted!" You laughed messily, as you looked at the picture of you drunkenly asleep on Mason's lap at his Chelsea leaving party. You couldn't remember much of that day, other than you drunk the night away in hope that it took the sting away from living the beloved club and city... 

"Ben took..." Mason smirked "He sent it me the next day along with the video of you doing my celebration on top of the table..."  "Please say that's a joke.." You muttered as you hid your head in embarrassment, hoping that he  was lying..

"Nope!" He chuckled "I'll show you that later darling, first you have to finish this book!"

So you did. There wasn't much after that, other than his first day at united and your new home in Manchester... little did you know there was one final page to your story you were yet to experience...

"What's this?" You questioned as you flipped the page to see a brown envelope stuck to the page, similar to love letters your grandad use to write. Unable to say much, Mason whispered "Open it and see..."

With shaking hands you pulled out letter which was folded in half, his scruffy handwriting evident. You shot him one last look, nervousness written all over his face as you began to read the love letter addressed to only you....

My dear (y/n),

I've never been good at doing speeches or expressing how I feel, but with you by my side I feel as though I can do anything, so here I am... Ever since I saw you my whole world changed for the better. You fixed the hole in my life like a puzzle piece and ever since then I knew I'd never want to lose you.

The other week when I held you in your nan's attic made me think of if we met in another life, would be the same as we are right now... and the truth is sweetheart we would of have! Even if we met on a crowded street in the 40's or if I was sent to war and you were forced to marry another man... my head would of still turned for you just like it did at that party...

you still would have been mine, I'd of make sure of it!

I'm going to love you for the rest of our lives, till we have grey hair, mini mounts running around the place, a cardboard box stored of memories we made, we'll have it all! 

Our story starts now Angel... 

we're going to be timeless...

look forward...

Mase x

Tears poured down your face as you followed the letters instructions, showing him down on one knee, a small box with the most gorgeous diamond ring displayed in it, one that coincidently resembled the one your nan had...

"Mase..."

"(y/n)... will you please make me the happies man alive & spend the rest of your life with me??"

Unable to speak you nodded your head, falling to your knees as you wrapped your arms around him. "I love you so much.." You sobbed into his neck.

"I love you so much more..." He cried back, pulling back from you for a brief second to slip the gorgeous ring on your finger "This is your nans ring" He smiled "I asked your parents if it was okay if I gave it you... I want us to be a timeless classic like your grandparents, I want to fill that book up with you till the day we are torn apart by fate..."

Once more you were speechless as his arm wrapped around you, your head lay on his chest listening to the heart which had loved you for 5 years... there was no (y/n) without Mason and you prayed every minute of the day that you'd be the couple your grandparents were. A love so strong it could be seen from miles away, a love everyone dreamed of but only a rare few could experience... one that even time couldn't forget... Your going to be... 

TIMELESS

#england nt #football #football imagine #chelsea fc #money mase #mason mount #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfic #mason mount one shot #mason mount fic #mason mount blurbs #mason mount blurb #mason mount imagine #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagines #manchester utd

[cookii-moon]

I really like it when powers are used for more than just fighting. Like it’s part of the character and their expressions. I wish Ninjago did it more and I really like when people explore it. Also it’s so cool in like animation or art.

Cole will cause the ground to shake whenever he walks when he’s upset or after an argument. You can tell when he’s growing annoyed by the sand and dust gathering and whipping around him like a mini sandstorm. When he feels infuriated or lashes out spikes of earth will erupt from the floorboards much to the dismay of those who have to fix it. When he’s distraught the earth will crack and lava will pool out of it. His wounds have a strange molten look to them. Anything earth related will cling to him and it’s so hard to get it off, you’ll spot him at the beach his entire lower body and arms coated in sand while an entire wave of it trails behind him like a dress trail. Sand will poof out of his hair when he’s surprised. His eyes, hair and skin will start to glitter and glisten like a geode when he’s excited, nobody knows if they’re just imagining it or not. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll leave a bed of beautiful flower-shaped crystals behind after making a particularly happy memory. If Nya was watching the crystals bloom around him as they talked, she didn’t say anything

Jay will cause a slight wind around him and the the air will be filled with buzzing electricity when he’s annoyed. Lightning will accumulate under his skin and give him a pulsing glow you’d rub off as the lighting when he’s angry, jumping from him to any power source or conductor nearby, hair standing up on end as it comes close. When he feels guilty or anxious, his body will go frantic, regularly twitching with nervous spasms and seizures. His eyes have that extra little energetic spark to them that makes it look like pure plasma or the middle of a thunderstorm. When he’s excited, his hair will poof up and frizzle, small arcs will shoot off of his form and there’ll be a quick bounce in his step. Maybe one day, when he’s dancing together with Cole, beautiful spheres of lightning and veils of plasma filled the room like a light show or a concert in response to his genuine joy. Of course, no such scenario has ever happened yet… to our knowledge, at least.

Zane will cause the air to chill around him under annoyance and his eyes will turn ice sharp. Frost spreads around him when he’s upset and blizzards will form and encase his body in ice when he’s devastated. Sometimes you can hear a soft crack in his step and a thin layer of ice will coat where he walked. When he’s excited powder snow will accentuate his movements and vanish in a trace as if his hands were coated in glitter. His skin might have a cold touch and ice-like shine to it when he’s content and comfortable. His hair will be coated in frost and light snow will begin to fall around him when he’s happy, but it isn’t an uncomfortable cold, rather a peaceful, ethereal type of snow that drowns out all other sound and leaves you in silent awe. When he gave Kai an ice sculpture of a seadragon in one such instance, Kai was sure it would melt within the next day, yet the sculpture has remained and not so much as a drop of water has ever been shed from it. Perhaps the emotions of elemental masters have a greater effect on their powers than previously believed.

Kai will cause the very air to smolder in his rage, flames will lick up his hands as ashes and embers fly in the wind and his hair dances and glows like a roaring fire consuming the sky. He will sizzle and crackle under annoyance as short lived sparks and embers entwine around him like a firecracker. His body emits just that tiny bit more warmth that makes him the favorite person to hang out with in the winter, whether the attempts be disguised and subtle or obvious and straight to the point. When content his entire body seems to emit a soft, sun-like glow and a gentle warmth will radiate out of him. One time, Lloyd begged and pleaded for Kai to take him to see his first ever festival. Little did he know it was Kai’s first as well. Lloyd could swear he saw shimmers and patterns and lights trail up his arm and through his hair before bursting around him in the air like fireworks as he watched a traditional Ignacian performance, though who really knows if that was more than simply the prop flames on stage.

Nya will cause waves to gather around her as an eerie blue light encompasses her eyes and bright blue markings trail down her skin and reflect off the water when she’s angry. When she’s aggravated, nearby water-based appliances may suddenly burst (see Seabound) and shower the room. Near the ocean, waves will lap at her feet and rise up to envelop her hair and sweep her away in an attempt to take her back to where she belongs. If light hits her the right way, you might see the way her skin looks so strangely translucent with the slightest hint of blue, and the light reflecting off of it like her skin were the surface of the ocean. When she’s glad or content water seems to spray around her in just the right way as a faint rainbow traces her movements and arcs around her. When she’s at shore with Zane after a long day and a heavy discussion, maybe coral will sprout around her and bubbles will float into the air as she pulls away from the hug, leaving Zane alone to wonder at the beautiful fairy tale land. And.. well.. relocate the coral. Just in case.

And finally Lloyd. Lloyd is unique in that his don’t often manifest physically. Sure, there’s the green glow of his eyes, the faint gold coming off of his arms and the slight pointed ears, but for the most part they figured his powers simply didn’t show themselves like the others. Which was correct, partially. But there was just that feeling that they brought with them. Sometimes there would be an anger originating from the very air they breathed, so strong that it would nearly choke them. Other times there would be a deafening silence surrounding them, as if blanketing the world itself. The only common factor in these occurrences was, well, Lloyd. It wasn’t until a late night video game session, after they had defeated emperor Garmadon, that Jay finally put the pieces together amidst the raging emotions that encompassed the room, that were later silenced as Lloyds golden glow grew brighter than ever.

so anyways this is a call to action for you to think about their powers more. My job here is done.

#ninjago #ninjago cole #cole ninjago #jay walker #ninjago jay #jay ninjago #zane julien #zane ninjago #ninjago zane #kai smith #ninjago kai #kai jiang #kai ninjago #ninjago nya #nya ninjago #nya smith #nya jiang #ninjago lloyd #lloyd ninjago #lloyd garmadon #Cookie’s thoughts #elemental powers #powers #I’m sorry for the long post #jdjfdjfrjf #and the long paragraphs #So like would you guys read me ranting about random concepts or characters or do you prefer in depth posts #I guess this is a test for that #If there’s errors that’s because this was written over the course of several days and at different times of day so #And I finally finished it and can’t be bothered to edit it bc I’m posting it at a time where I am no thoughts head empty

[iovebarca]

can you write a pedri series inspired by a quevedo song for example like columbia

but plz make it a happy ending my heart hurts too much already bc of this season 😭😭😭😭

Fountain of Love - Pedri

Authors note: I've never written something like this so give me feedback! and please send in some requests!🫶🏼

+ I could turn this into a series but yall have to give me songs😭 and it doesn't necessarily have to be by Quevedo.

Warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me

WC: 800 ish

Summary: You meet Pedri, a talented footballer, in the city. Despite challenges, your love grows stronger. Now, watching the sunset together, you find solace in each other's arms, knowing your love will endure.

Meaning of the song: Columbia by Quevedo is about a romantic relationship, with the lyrics expressing themes of love, desire, and passion. The song likely explores the ups and downs of being in a relationship, perhaps touching on emotions like longing, excitement, and devotion.

The first time you laid eyes on Pedri was like a scene out of a romantic novel, a moment etched into your memory with the vividness of a dream. It was a balmy summer evening, the kind where the air hung heavy with the scent of street food and the sound of laughter danced through the bustling streets. The town square was alive with activity, a vibrant tapestry of colors and sounds that captivated your senses as you strolled through its midst.

And then, amidst the chaos, you saw him—Pedri, standing by the fountain like a serene figure in a painting. There was something about him, something magnetic that drew you in, like a moth to a flame. Not too tall but incredibly handsome, with tousled dark hair and hazel eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe, he exuded a quiet confidence that set him apart from the crowd.

As you approached him, your heart fluttered with anticipation, unsure of what to expect from this enigmatic stranger. But when he turned to look at you, a warm smile gracing his lips, all your doubts melted away. "Hello," he said, his voice soft and melodic, sending shivers down your spine. "Enjoying the evening?"

His words were simple, yet they held a world of meaning, a silent invitation to join him in this moment of serenity amidst the chaos of the city. And so, with a smile of your own, you nodded, feeling a sense of connection blooming between you like a flower in bloom. "Yes, it's beautiful," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, the words carrying a weight of their own.

And just like that, your journey with Pedri began—a journey filled with twists and turns, highs and lows, laughter and tears. He wasn't just any ordinary guy; he was a footballer, a rising star in the world of sports, with a talent that left spectators in awe and opponents trembling in their boots. But despite his fame and success, he remained humble and down-to-earth, a quality that only made you fall for him even harder.

Together, you navigated the highs and lows of his career, from the exhilarating victories to the devastating defeats. You were his biggest fan, cheering him on from the sidelines with unwavering devotion, even when the odds seemed stacked against him. And through it all, he never failed to make you feel like the most important person in the world, showering you with love and affection every chance he got.

But amidst the excitement of his career, there were moments of doubt and uncertainty, moments when you wondered if your love could withstand the pressures of fame and fortune. There were rumors and scandals, gossip columns filled with speculation about Pedri's personal life, threatening to tear you apart.

But through it all, you stood by him, your love stronger than ever in the face of adversity. You were his rock, his anchor in the storm, reminding him of the person he truly was beneath the glare of the spotlight.

As the years passed, your bond with Pedri only grew stronger, deepening with each passing day. You shared your hopes and dreams, your fears and insecurities, knowing that no matter what the future held, you would face it together.

And then, one magical evening, Pedri got down on one knee and asked you to be his forever. It was a moment you would never forget—the way his eyes sparkled with love and adoration, the way his voice trembled with emotion as he professed his undying love for you. And as you said yes, tears of joy streaming down your cheeks, you knew that your life would never be the same again.

Now, as you stand hand in hand with Pedri, watching the sunset paint the sky in hues of pink and gold, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. For in Pedri's arms, you have found your home, your safe haven in a world filled with chaos and uncertainty.

As the stars begin to twinkle overhead, you lean in to kiss Pedri, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude. For in Pedri, you have found not only a lover but a partner, a soulmate to share life's journey with until the end of time. And as you gaze into each other's eyes, you know that no matter what the future may hold, as long as you have each other, you will always find your way back home.

#pedri #pedri fluff #pedri one shot #pedri x reader #pedri imagine #pedri fanfic #fc barcelona

[alcestas-sloboda]

I see so many reflections today from different people: someone woke up from the explosions, some from a phone call, some woke up and saw hundreds of notifications from different telegram channels. It is still so unimaginably bizarre. I have no ability to put into words the feeling of your world falling apart and we didn’t even understand half of the danger that was surrounding us. We were so damn close to disaster with half of Europe believing that nothing good will come out of it.

Ukrainians didn’t care what Europeans thought though, I personally saw news pieces about "Russia will take control of Kyiv" a lot later, somewhere in May, when Ukrainian military took control over the north of the country. And I’m so eternally grateful to every Ukrainian who made sure that all this "experts" sat in those flashy studios red from guilt. I’m grateful for my life, I’m grateful for our Ukraine. She persist. She is still the love of our lives. She’s hurt and devastated but she lives despite all the attempts to destroy her. Same as us. Somehow still here.

Yet I feel more detached from the western world than ever and I’m so fucking jealous of you all. It’s not even about the rockets or shakheds - somewhere along the lines you accept the fact that you may die in any moment - it’s about normal things like your Twitter feed that doesn’t look like a necrology, military terms that don’t make any sense to you, your city that doesn’t stop everyday to mourn the dead, you don’t feel guilty for trying to live a normal life while your classmate, who wanted to be a director, posts stories from the trenches. All of that and more. I’m not even entitled to my emotions because there always will be someone who says that my country is not suffering enough. I no longer react to comments like this as emotionally as I’ve done before but it is still so bizarre to see stuff like that from people whose countries have always been the one to inflict suffering on others.

I may sound mean or sarcastic or whatever but there is so much negativity inside of us that was put there by people like I’ve mentioned above that it is going to be released from time to time. "Your country shouldn’t exist", "Only 9 thousand killed", "You all are nazis/racist/zionists/any of the -ist terms" - yet you should always react in a constructive way because the moment you let your emotions go, you are the worst person on the planet. But who am I kidding, some people here do believe that we are. There is a thousand bad people with sketchy patches in a 40-million country and suddenly "That’s why I no longer support Ukraine". Well, honey, that means you never did. Because Syrian flags were quickly replaced with Ukrainian ones and just as quickly with Palestinian. It’s not about the "Support the oppressed", it’s "Anything to not feel guilty" because then you’ll find the reason to hate Palestinians, just as you did with us. If only you cared about the problematic shit happening in you country as much as you care about our political and social life.

But there are people who still are there for us. Countries that are still here. We may not say it as often but we are thankful. So very thankful for everything you’ve done and are doing for us. Thank you for hearing us and uplifting our voices.

Recently one of the most beautiful people here have lost her life defending me and you. She was always in my notes, always making sure that we didn’t feel uncomfortable even if she of all the people had all the right to be upfront about her thoughts and feelings. I don’t think I will ever get rid of the feeling of guilt. She was there while I wasn’t. She said to mourn her through anger. Anger towards the oppressor. Anger that should be directed into something useful: donations, sharing info, contacting your MPs and so on.

The soldier‘s death is not something out of ordinary during the war, it’s not considered a war crime but what if half of the army are civilians? Volunteers who left their homes to protect them. What if the soldier was a teacher, a poet, an actor, an IT-specialist, a scientist, what then? Isn’t it a tragedy? My country is loosing yet another generation of beautiful talented people and it makes my view of the future even darker.

But what can I say? I’m still here. My country still stands. Ukrainian air defence is doing everything possible and impossible to protect the lives of the civilians. Ukrainian military is still the only thing keeping us all alive. Heroes, titans, gods. Glory to them. Eternal glory to those who lost their lives defending Ukraine.

To Ukrainians: якось буде, прорвемся.

#reflection I guess

[naughtyneganjdm]

Naughty or Nice - Chapter 14

Summary: The aftermath of the fight at the Greene farm and Y/N denying Negan's proposal takes place.

Characters: Negan, the reader (OC), etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51464518/chapters/134560708

Warnings: Swearing, severe angst, etc.

Notes: I'm sorry this wasn't up yesterday. I got tired and I passed out. It was a rough day. Thanks to everyone that still kept with the story. I appreciate each and every single one of you!

Twenty-four hours ago, Y/N was in the arms of the man that she loved. She was happy. She felt safe. Even though she was in pain, she felt loved and cherished. In Negan’s arms she felt more comfortable than she ever had in her life. Now? She was miserable.

This was not how Y/N thought she would be spending Christmas Eve. Alone in her apartment. Depressed and sad. Last night she was hopeful. Tonight she was miserable. Sitting in a chair in front of one of her windows that overlooked the city had her feeling more alone than she had in a very long time. Outside the snow was heavy and she felt like it fit her emotions right now. It was a vast difference from how she felt last night. Even though her father broke her, in Negan’s arms she felt far from alone.

Looking to the bottle of Cognac she had in her hand made her let out a long sigh. She probably looked ridiculous sitting in the dark alone. Having the lights off just fit her mood better. There was a darkness settling inside of her heart after what she had done today. Turning Negan down after his beautiful proposal was terrible. Did she want to marry Negan? Of course she did. Negan was everything she could have asked for and more. He was gorgeous and he made her happy. A lot of people were never that lucky to find someone that made them feel so incredibly loved and joyous. Even in the worst of times, Negan was always good at making her feel good. Yet being at her family’s home made her realize that she didn’t think she deserved all of that. After years of trying to break away from the person that her family made her believe she was, she realized that it never left her to begin with.

Turning Negan down was the hardest thing she ever had done in her life. Technically they were already engaged before but telling him no made it clear that it wasn’t real to begin with. And she hated that. She hated hurting Negan because seeing him cry like he was when she left was one of the most devastating things she had ever felt in her life. What she had done was just her trying to do the right thing. Allowing him to eventually find happiness with someone better than her is what she wanted for him.

Lifting the bottle up again, she knew that it was the same one that she had shared with Negan at the Christmas party. She hadn’t drank any of it yet, but she felt like it was in her future. Getting drunk to numb the pain was beginning to sound like the only way out of her feelings and emotions right now. Sitting alone, drunk in her woes sounded much better than being sober. Of course the fact that she shared it with Negan previously had her mind lingering back to him and it hurt. Negan was an incredible man that deserved an incredible woman. Not someone like her. No matter how much she loved him, she knew it was for the best to let him go.

Observing the buildings surrounding her, she imagined that so many families were together. Getting ready to go to sleep to prepare for their big holiday. Christmas was often about joy and family. Yet here she was all alone to herself and heart broken. Right now she just wished the world would swallow her whole.

Since she had left the farm her cell phone had been off. After everything she put up with, she didn’t want to talk to anyone. Especially if it was someone from her family. Even though she loved Annette, Beth and a few others, she just knew that she couldn’t handle talking to them. So much happened that just made her feel like the worst person on the planet and it was for the best to just shut the rest of the world out.

Even thinking about everything that happened had her mind lingering to Glenn. If Glenn was really as upset about things as he claimed to be, he would have come home back to the apartment. He would have found a way. Yet, here she was. Alone. There were no doubts that Glenn was still at her family’s home likely starting a life with Maggie. Why wouldn’t he be? Love was mentioned several times there so it was clear he was in love with her older sister.

It wasn’t so much that he was in love with Maggie that upset her. It was the lack of remorse for it. There was no jealousy or really anger from it. To be fair, she never really loved Glenn. Glenn was not the man that she wanted to spend forever with. He was her friend. Probably her best friend. So, even his actions based on that alone were upsetting. Maybe he tried to call her? Maybe he didn’t. Regardless, the things he also said and did weren’t that of someone who truly cared for her either. So much time was wasted with her worrying about hurting Glenn’s feelings. Yet, the moment he found something better, Glenn eagerly jumped ship and didn’t care.

With everything going on, she had no doubt that Negan had called her. It shattered her to know that because he was trying his best. But she couldn’t face Negan or talk to him right now. It would just hurt too much. For both of them.

A soft knocking sound was heard. Originally, she thought it was just movement from another apartment until it repeated. That was definitely a knock at her door. Gazing back over her shoulder, Y/N let out a grunt. Maybe with the lights off, the person would take the hint that she wasn’t home and leave. At least she hoped they would. She wasn’t in a very talkative mood. But there it was again. Another knock. This time it was louder and determined for her to hear it. Slouching down further in the chair, she felt a lump developing in her throat. Answering that door was the last thing she wanted to do.

“Hello?” a familiar voice called out and amongst the silence. It made her heart skip a beat. Clutching tightly to the neck of the bottle, she sat forward in the chair and sighed. She knew that voice. Setting the bottle down next to the chair on the ground, she bit at her bottom lip and determined her next move. “I know you’re in there Y/N. I asked the doorman if you were here and he told me that you were. He’s the one that let me up here. So please open the door.”

“Fuck,” she scoffed hating that she was even debating not answering the door. Once the next knock was heard, she slowly stood from her seat. This was a case where she couldn’t not answer the door. Heading over toward the door, she was sluggish in the way that she moved. Depression had taken its toll on her. Probably her crying too. It had brought forth an exhaustion and weakness into her that she couldn’t describe. If she would have known what was good for her, she would have been in bed right now trying to sleep it off, but she wasn’t.  

“I hear you moving around in there, so please…just open the door,” the voice begged once more from the other side. Was she really making that much noise? Flicking the lights on, she heard another knock and shook her head.

“I’m coming,” she assured them with a sigh, finally getting to the door. Undoing the lock, she pulled the door open. Being met by the familiar set of hazel eyes had her clutching onto the knob and the doorframe at the same time releasing a long exhale deep from within her. “Beau? What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to talk to you,” Beau pulled the hood of his jacket down, his cheeks a rose color from the snowstorm that he had obviously been in. Tugging at the hat he was wearing, Beau shoved it into the pocket of his jacket. Slicking his hair back, Beau tried to straighten his dark hair that had gotten messed. Shifting on his feet, Beau seemed nervous at first before pushing his hands into his pockets. “Thank you for opening the door. I was wondering if you were going to ignore me.”

“I’d never ignore you,” she whispered, reaching out to brush her fingers in over Beau’s cheek to feel the coolness of his rosy cheeks against her touch. It had Beau’s long eyelashes coming to a close and she sighed. Brushing her fingers through Beau’s dark hair, she stepped out in the hallway to see that Beau was alone. “Is your father here?”

Upon her question, Beau’s hazel eyes grew wide and he cleared his throat uneasily, “About that…”

“Beau?” she tipped her head to the side realizing that he was avoiding the question.

“We were at home in the apartment, watching movies…” Beau began, throwing his hands up in the air when he spoke. “I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I got Erin to distract him. I told him I was going to go grab something from the kitchen and…I snuck out.”

“Beau! Your father must be worried sick about you,” she commented, grasping tightly to the doorknob. Mirroring his father’s expressions, Beau tipped his head from side to side and let out a long sigh.

“Not really,” Beau’s face scrunched up, his lips parting when he contemplated what she said. A dramatic expression flooded his young features, his eyebrows bouncing up. “Okay, that’s a lie. He was furious with me for taking off.”

“I can imagine,” she noted, folding her arms in front of her chest, resting her shoulder against the doorframe. “It’s hard to believe that he wouldn’t demand you to come home.”

“Listen, he called. A lot. He wanted to know where I was, but I wouldn’t tell him,” Beau explained to her, his words coming out almost in a whisper like he was afraid to admit this all to her. “I just told him that I was safe and that I would be home soon.”

Giving Beau a worried glance, she reached out to place her hand in over his shoulder. Stepping aside, she held her hand up in the air motioning Negan’s son into her apartment. Moving slowly, Beau stepped inside with her closing the door behind them. Leading him toward the kitchen, she placed her hand in over his shoulder motioning him toward the table. Pulling out a seat for him, she got Beau to sit down and he stared up at her with his big, hazel eyes.

“You’re freezing,” she commented, brushing her fingers in over the side of his face again. Shaking her head, she moved over toward the cupboard to pull out a mug. Setting it down on the counter, she went over to another part of the kitchen. Grabbing some items for hot chocolate, she immediately started to make him something warm. Glancing back at Beau, she noticed that his eyes were hooked on her watching her every movement. “I assume you are okay with hot chocolate?”

“Of course,” Beau whispered, placing his hands on top of the table.

“Do you want anything in your hot chocolate? Marshmallows? Whipped Cream? Peppermint? Sprinkles?” she asked, bracing her hand on the counter while she put together the hot chocolate for him in a pot on the stove. A smirk tugged at Beau’s features and he shrugged his shoulders. “What?”

“It’s nothing,” Beau shook his head, rubbing his hands together in attempts to get some warmth into them. “Surprise me.”

“Sure thing,” she went back into her cupboards to grab something else. “Why would you run away on your dad like that?”

“You have to ask?” Beau muttered, his eyes narrowing when she looked back at him. “He’s miserable Y/N. He’s doing his best to be there for us, as he always does, but I’m not stupid. We all go get a ring together for you and he comes home looking heart broken. It doesn’t take much for me to realize what happened.”

Hearing that drew a breath from her throat and she clutched tightly to the mug that she had grabbed for Beau, “I wanted to talk to you. I needed to talk to you,” Beau corrected himself with a sigh, shrugging his shoulders when he adjusted in the chair that he was in. “I knew that if I told him what I was doing, he wouldn’t let me go. He’d tell me to leave you alone. But I just…I couldn’t do that.”

“How did you even know where I lived?” she wondered, pouring the hot chocolate into the mug. Grabbing some whipped cream from the fridge, she put some on top before topping it off with chocolate sprinkles. Setting it down on the table before Beau had a small smile tugging at his lips when he looked to it. “I put some peppermint extract into it to make it more…Christmas like?”

“Thank you,” Beau accepted the mug, pulling it in closer to him on the table. Lifting it carefully, he took a small sip of the hot liquid. Lowering it made Y/N smirk when the whipped cream covered his top lip from his first sip. Grabbing a napkin for him, she slid it across the top of the table while she lowered down in the seat before him at the table. Cleaning his face off, Beau let out a hesitant laugh before stroking his fingers over the mug she gave him. “I found your address online. You can find pretty much anything on the internet if you know how to look.”

“Touché,” she agreed with him knowing that he was right. Beau took another cautious sip of the hot chocolate, getting comfortable in his seat. Once Beau set his mug down, he felt her hand sliding in over his and he lowered his stare. “You’re still freezing.”

“I’ll be okay,” Beau assured her hearing the worry in her voice. “I’ve got the hot chocolate to warm me up. I’ll just hold onto the cup.”

“You shouldn’t have come out here in the storm Beau,” she pointed out, feeling Beau’s fingers hooking with hers. “Is your father’s place even close to here?”

“Not really,” Beau was honest with her, thinking about how long it took him to get here. By the expression over her face, Beau knew that she was upset with his answer. “I had to do it Y/N. I needed to talk to you and it couldn’t wait.”

“How did you get here Beau?” she inquired, brushing his dark hair back behind his ear. Bringing the mug to his lips, Beau took a long sip of the hot chocolate that she made for him. It was obvious that he was trying to avoid the question. “Beau?”

“It’s complicated,” Beau whispered when he lowered the mug back down. There was an innocence in his eyes when he looked back to her.  

“You sound so much like your father,” she acknowledged, leaning back in her chair. An ache grew at the center of her chest thinking about how she had Negan’s son sitting with her in her apartment when he should have been home with his family.

“I got dad to talk to me about what happened with you Y/N. I know that you told him no when it came to marrying him,” Beau conceded to what he knew and it made her let out a saddened sound. “And I don’t understand why. You told my dad yes originally. The two of you were already engaged. I know you want to be with my dad. So why tell him no this time? Especially since you might be pregnant.”

“I’m not pregnant Beau,” she interrupted Beau’s thoughts noticing that he seemed confused by it. “Your dad and I really only were trying for two days.”

“That’s still two days,” Beau reminded her with a huff, “You don’t know if you are pregnant or not. But regardless, it’s still not answering my question. You said yes to marrying my dad. So much so that you two planned to have a baby together. So why suddenly have those emotions changed Y/N?”

“Because things have changed since that day Beau. That time in the woods wasn’t exactly official,” she thought of the first thing she could. But god. That sounded awful when she thought about it. A lump was growing in her throat the more she thought about it. With Beau’s hazel eyes on her, she didn’t exactly know what to say. “It’s adult stuff.”

“Come on,” Beau scoffed, his eyebrows furrowing showing that he hated that response. “I’m thirteen years old. I’m not a baby. I think I understand things more than most adults do.”

Beau reached or his mug to wrap his fingers back around it to warm himself up, “Don’t do that to me. You’ve always been honest with me. Don’t stop now.”

Hearing that took her breath away and she nodded, “Because I think your father deserves better than me. You saw what happened with my family when we were at the farm. It’s because of me everything happened. I can only imagine that the same thing will happen to your family if I’m in it. And I don’t want that to happen to your family. Sometimes if you love something, you have to let it go.”

“No, I don’t think that’s true,” Beau countered, his young features scrunching up after her answer. It surprised her that he was willing to shut her down that fast. “Anyone with eyes could see that all the drama came from your family. You were just doing your best in a situation that you were destined to fail at because the people you were fighting to get the love from were never willing to give it.”

Yeah, that last sentence was incredibly deep for a thirteen-year-old boy, but he wasn’t wrong, “Do you know what gaslighting is Y/N? because your family is a perfect example of it.”

“I…I know what gaslighting is, Beau,” she responded back with a frown, brushing her fingers over her forehead knowing that it was something that Negan had said a few times.

“Then how can you not see that is what your family did to you?” Beau pushed, sliding his chair in closer to her at the table. “I understand why you are feeling the way you do. It’s hard to have the person that is meant to love you treating you the way your father does. Abuse effects everyone differently and I’m trying to understand that, but you have to know that you are not the problem. You were never the problem. Deep down, you know that.”

Lowering her head, Y/N swallowed down hard and Beau leaned forward, “I think it scares you to be happy because you have no idea what it feels like. For the first time in your life, you knew what it was like to be happy with my dad. To not feel alone and I think that scared you because you have always been alone. You got used to it. You let the loneliness become part of you and you got scared. You let that voice inside of your head become your father. You let it tell you all the awful things that he did growing up and you decided to believe it. But that voice? It’s not real. You have to shut it out because you are not your father. You will never be him.”

Tears burned at her eyes hearing Negan’s thirteen-year-old getting emotional the more that he spoke to her, “How old are you again? Because you sure as hell don’t sound thirteen.”

“I had to grow up fast Y/N,” Beau explained, his raspy voice hitching with his eyes burning. “You think you’re a bad person. You think you don’t deserve happiness, but what was the first thing you did when I got here? You took me into your kitchen, sat me down and got me a hot chocolate to warm me up. Your first thought was to take care of me. It’s the most…mom coded thing that someone could do.”

“Beau,” she half smiled that he was going to bat for her, much like he always did since she met him. “I did what was right. Anybody would do the same thing.”

“No. No they wouldn’t,” Beau denied that thought, sliding his hand across the table to place it over hers in a supportive grasp. “Other than my dad, there is only one person in this world that would do what you just did for me and that was my mom.”

After talking about Lucille, Beau’s lips parted and he let out a tiny whimper that he clearly didn’t want to when his mom came to his mind, “I’ve experienced a lot of this world Y/N and I’ve never found someone I’ve connected with like I have you. We’re so much alike. You and I.”

“Beau, we’re so vastly different too,” she confessed and he let out a hesitant breath. Beau was so much purer than she ever thought she was.

“Yeah, because I was given a chance you never were,” Beau retorted with a frown recalling everything he knew about her family. “I’m a positive example of how things can be when people are depressed because I had a support system. I have a support system. Something you never did.”

It was amazing how a teenager understood her life so much more than most people did. A long exhale fell from her throat with Beau’s fingers curling tighter around hers, “If someone would have loved you the way you were meant to be loved when you were my age, you wouldn’t have had to feel this way. Why won’t you allow yourself the chance to finally be loved that way?”  

“Beau, I appreciate what you are doing here, but we need to call your dad. Do you have any idea what time it is?” she tried to avoid this whole thing, looking back over her shoulder to see the time. Getting up from the table, she reached for her phone that was plugged in on the counter. “We need to get you home.”

“I love you,” Beau stammered, pushing the seat back when he let out a whimpering sound. It made Y/N turn on her heel to stare out at him and he shrugged. “Not in the way that my dad loves you. That would be creepy. I love you in the way that…someone loves a mom. Or a potential mom. It wasn’t just my dad that fell in love with you. Because I love you too. And I think you feel the same way about me. Which is why it doesn’t make sense why you are doing this to yourself. Why you’re doing this to us.”

“Beau,” she frowned hearing him start to cry. Moving forward, she lowered down before him and knelt on her knees. Reaching out, she stroked her fingers in over the side of his face attempting to comfort him. “Of course I love you. How couldn’t I love you? You are the most amazing young man I’ve ever known.”

Hearing his cries continue, Y/N lifted up and felt his arms wrapping around her tightly to hug her. Hushing him, she stroked her fingers through his dark hair and felt her heart breaking, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. That is the one thing I wanted to avoid more than anything.”

“And you thought by taking the one person I’ve connected with the most since my mom passed away would be the way to do that?” Beau’s bottom lip tremored when he pulled back enough to stare out at her. “You didn’t just have my dad falling in love with you Y/N. I did too. And I don’t think it’s fair that you are letting your family take us away from you and you away from us. Because all of us are miserable Y/N.”

It broke her heart to hear that. What she was doing she thought was best for Negan and his family, but hearing how broken Beau was over everything hurt.

“I know you think you don’t belong with my dad…with us,” Beau started with a broken breath, “But I’m certain that my mother sent you to be with us. That you were meant to find my dad because…she knew that me and my dad…we were both broken. That we both needed someone like you in our lives.”

Motioning her to wait, Beau took out his wallet and stood from the table. Pulling out the drawing that Y/N had done for Beau had a breath catching in her throat seeing that he had kept it. When they talked in the past, he told her that he carried two notes with him always. One from his mother and another from his father. Seeing that she was added to the notes took her breath away. Grabbing one of those other notes from his wallet, Beau unfolded it, put it down on the table and pointed between both of them.

“To Beau, your heart shines brighter than the sun. Never stop being you because you are one in a million. You’re a shining star in the night sky,” Beau read what she had written to him with the drawing when they had spent time together that first time. Pointing to the note that was a little more withered, Beau shook his head and let out a whimpering breath. “My sweet Beau, your heart shines brighter than the sun. Never let that leave you because you are one in a million. You’re my shining star and never stop shining.”

Beau’s hand dropped at his side, the tears sliding down his face harder after he read both things to her. A shuddering breath fell from her throat after hearing Beau compare both things. Dramatically Beau pointed between both her drawing and the note from his mother, “If that’s not a fucking sign, I don’t know what is.”

Wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, Beau stared out at Y/N and bit down on his bottom lip, “I know you’re not her. I know that. I’m smart enough to know that. I’m old enough to not be that stupid, but I think my mom is out there somewhere. Maybe she’s one of the stars out in there in the sky. I think she saw that I was broken. That dad was broken. And I think she found you and she brought us together. Even if it was in a way that you consider wrong, it happened for a reason. You were meant to find my dad. You were meant to find me.”

Shakily reaching her hand out, Y/N hooked her fingers with Beau’s and he instinctively grasped a tight hold of them, “I saw my mom die, Y/N. She died in my father’s arms holding onto my hand,” Beau thought back on the hardest moment of his life. “My father has always been the strongest man I’ve ever known. But that day? I watched him break down. I’ve never seen him cry like that. And he wouldn’t let go of her. It took a long time before he was finally willing to let her go,” Beau was sobbing and she didn’t know what she could do to make everything better other than to listen. “That night I watched the light in him disappear. My dad was broken hearted and there was no fixing it. It was gone. And it was gone from me too. But I tried to hide it the best I could. My mother asked me to watch over him before she died, so I did. I held it in. And I never saw that light return to him, until I saw him with you. Something I never thought I would see again with my father, I saw when he was with you.”

Not crying was impossible when Y/N looked down at the ground, “And you did it for me too. I felt like I finally had a mother again. That’s how I knew my mom had to have a hand in this. She knew you were hurting and you needed us just as much as we needed you,” Beau insisted, placing his other hand over Y/N’s too. “So if you love me, if you love my dad…how could you possibly think this is the best option Y/N? I don’t care what your family has told you. I don’t care what that voice in your head tells you because it’s wrong. We love you. And we both need you. So much.”

Instead of responding, Y/N moved forward to wrap Beau up in her arms feeling his tears soaking her shirt the longer than she held onto him, “I do love you Beau, very much. But I don’t know how your father would feel after I told him no to his proposal. I can only imagine how much pain I’ve put him through.”

“He’s head over heels in love with you,” Beau tipped his head back, allowing her to brush away his tears while she stared down at him. “The pain of not having you in his life is worse than you telling him no. I’m not trying to guilt you into doing what I want Y/N, I just need you to see how important you are. How important you are to my dad. How important you are to me.”

“I know baby,” she hushed him hating that he thought she may have even considered that. “I know you wouldn’t do that.”

“You do want to be with my dad, right?” Beau confirmed, drawing her to lean back and let out a shuddering breath. “Because you told him yes when he asked you to marry him the first time. I still think you want to marry him. I still think you love him and you want to be with him.”

“Of course I do, Beau,” she was truthful with her answer. Negan was everything she wanted and more. She just hadn’t felt like she was good enough for him. “I love your father more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I told you, the only place I’ve ever felt like I’ve belonged is with you and your dad.”

“Then come home with me. Tell him how you feel,” Beau suggested, shaking his head and squeezing her hands in his tighter. “I know that he will be accepting of everything because he loves you. I love you. Please?”

Right when she was about to answer, she heard the sound of a knock and Beau did his best to reach up to wipe at his face to get the tears away, “Beau?”

“There’s something else,” Beau announced motioning her to wait. A sudden rush of nervousness flooded his body and she couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. “I really hope you don’t get mad at me for this. You see, dad was really distracted today. Even though he was doing his best, I was able to get away to my room for a while and I called someone. I got them to come pick me up and they are the person that brought me here. They couldn’t find a parking spot, so I just hopped out when we got here and left them to find a spot to park. I wanted to talk to you first. Alone.”

Tipping her head to the side, Y/N watched Beau moving away from her and heading for the door to pull it open. There was a sinking feeling in her gut when she saw Hershel moving toward the entrance of the kitchen. Beau closed the door and moved around Hershel to return to Y/N. Lowering her head, she didn’t know how to respond to her father being there.

Hershel looked between the both of them, sliding his hands into his pockets. It was obvious that both Beau and Y/N had been crying and he wasn’t sure what to say.

“I take it I missed something big?” Hershel concluded as Beau moved in beside Y/N. Grabbing a hold of Y/N’s hand, Hershel knew that Beau was incredibly protective of his middle daughter. With a nod, Beau stood his ground almost declaring in his body language that he was there to protect her. After a minute, Y/N lifted her head, her eyes locking with her father’s. It seemed like Hershel wanted to say something, but he stopped. Pointing over toward Beau, Hershel cleared his throat and sighed loudly. “This young man loves you a lot. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” she spoke softly, standing up from the chair that she was in. Wrapping her arm around Beau’s shoulders, she pulled him in closer to her and gave him a tight squeeze. “And I love him too.”

“Good,” Hershel uttered, giving a firm nod. “It’s good that the both of you have each other.”

They stood silent for a moment. Hershel was motionless, his eyes dropping to the ground when he shifted slightly before them. Taking in a long, shallow breath Hershel nodded toward the living room that he saw in the distance, “Do you think that we can sit and talk for a minute?”

“Sure,” she didn’t know how to respond to things when Hershel moved from her kitchen into her living room. Beau grabbed his letters from the table that he had pulled out so he could put them back into his wallet. Leading Y/N toward the living room, Beau looked up at Y/N with tears still in his eyes. “Just hear him out. If he upsets you, I’ll kick him out myself.”

“Okay,” she faintly smiled, brushing her fingers through Beau’s hair and moving over toward the couch with Beau. Taking a seat, she realized that Beau sat close to her making sure to show her that he was still going to be her support system no matter what. That was never anything she questioned. Beau was always there for her and that was never going to change.

“This is a really nice view,” Hershel spoke, heading over toward the large window that looked over the city. With a nervous nod, Y/N wondered what her father was really doing there anyways. “You did really good for yourself Y/N.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, still having a hard time looking at Hershel. The only reason she wasn’t losing it was because of Beau. Obviously, this was something that was meaningful to Beau, so she was going to hear her father out for that reason alone. “What are you doing here Hershel?”

“Well, I was at home. There was a big family meeting going down when this young man called me,” Hershel explained pointing over to Beau who looked to Y/N with his big eyes. “He asked me not to talk and to listen to him. So I listened for once in my life. I listened to everything he had to say. It was a long conversation with some back and forth. We hung up. I spent some time alone in the kitchen and it didn’t take long for me to think about what he said. I called him back, I drove out here to the city and I picked him up. We drove here together, he took off while I parked and that’s pretty much it.”

“Not to be rude,” she started, her head tipping from side to side, “that just explains the steps of how you got here. Not why you’re here Hershel.”

Hershel’s expression showed that he was surprised that she called him out on that point, but it was true. Sure, it was a good lead up, but there had to be more of a reason why he was there.  

“I owe you some explanations,” Hershel began, heading over toward the seat that was across from Beau and Y/N. In his body language, it showed that he was uncomfortable and it was strange to see from her father. Usually, Hershel didn’t care about anything, but to see him uneasy was not a sight that she was used to. “And I’m going to do my best giving them to you,” Hershel tried to gather himself, hooking his fingers together. “I think you know some of this, but it’s important to things. When I was younger, my father was very abusive. I hated him. He was an alcoholic and it ruined our family. The second I could get away, I did. My father was a cold man. Always mocked me for having a love for animals, but I didn’t care. When I was gone, I became a veterinarian because it’s what I wanted. And hell I did it just to spite him. Kind of like you with your art.”

“Yeah,” Y/N breathed out, she knew this information. It was something she had only heard somewhat about, but it was something more so directed at Maggie. Hershel always let Maggie know that the reason he stopped drinking was for her.

“You and I were a lot alike when we were younger,” Hershel informed her, giving a shrug knowing that she would probably hate hearing that. “Only when we were younger though. We both had our fathers that were unbearable and we desperately wanted to get away. Prove to them that we could be what we wanted without judgement.”

It hurt being compared to her father, but he wasn’t wrong. From what he talked about when it came to his father, their pasts did sound very similar. Especially with them wanting to do what they loved and escaping so they could.

“When my father was dying on his death bed, I came back to that farm. I saw what he became and I vowed to never be like him,” Hershel thought back on his past, his words coming out shaken because he was visibly trying to hold himself together. “I had become an alcoholic in that time away from him. It was the best way I could deal with all the pain I felt because of him growing up. Hell, it was kind of in my blood to become an alcoholic. The day I saw him on his deathbed is the day that I vowed to stop drinking because I never wanted to be like him. Especially after I found out about Maggie. I didn’t want to have my family growing up the way that I did.”

A tremoring breath fell from her lips when she dropped her head down. That sounded very familiar to her, but from her own point of view and it hurt hearing that come from Hershel’s own mouth considering everything that Hershel put her through.  

“I thought I had the perfect life. I was married to Josephine, we had Maggie and everything felt right in the world until she got sick. When she got sick, it was the hardest thing I had ever had to experience in my life,” Hershel recalled back on his life, his eyes lifting to Y/N’s to show that he was emotional. “I had this little girl that I had to take care of and I knew that her mother was dying. And when she did? It broke me.”

Even though these were things that they knew growing up in their family, they were never things they really touched on. Hershel wasn’t always open with his emotions. In fact, he was rather cold when it came to him opening up. When it came to loving Maggie and Beth, he was mostly warm to them, but never when it came to getting deep about feelings.  

“I never thought I would fall in love again. And because of that, I fell. I was so close to drinking again because I remembered what it was like when I was younger. I remembered how it helped to ease the pain that I had when I thought about my past with my father,” Hershel declared, holding his hands out as if drawing together his thoughts from the past. “It was a while after Josephine had passed. I wasn’t doing good. I was a single father. Maggie was sad. I was failing in all the areas that I should have been thriving with, but it was hard. It was really hard. So one night, I went to a bar. Maggie was in bed and I left her alone. I should have never done that, but your sister was a deep sleeper when she was younger. I knew I’d be fine until morning…”

Hershel took a moment to stop and catch himself. Lowering his hand, Hershel rubbed it against his knee and raised his gaze. Both Beau and Y/N were listening to him intently. Neither one broke from him and it was strange that both of them were actually giving him a chance to explain things after everything that they had been through.

“That night was the night I met your mother,” Hershel explained to Y/N seeing her posture change once he finally mentioned her mother to her. “I hadn’t been to a bar in a very long time. So everyone there was a stranger for me. I was deep in my sorrows and I had gone to the bar. I took a seat and almost immediately I had spotted your mother. People were drawn to her. She was standing by this jukebox. There was a light on her and like I said, she was hard to miss. With her smile and her energy. Even the way the room was lit, it was like it almost brought the attention directly to her. But of course she was surrounded by other people. People were always drawn to your mother.”

Noticing that Y/N seemed to tense up, Beau squeezed his fingers around hers and gave her a small nudge. This was everything that she wanted and more growing up, it was just hard hearing it for the first time.

“I was about to drink. The bartender put it right in front of me and when I was about to take my first sip, someone fell right on top of me,” Hershel chuckled, shaking his head while deep in recollection of his memories. “The drink spilled all over me and the person who fell on me was your mother. You see, your mother was wearing a new dress that day and she tripped over it. Even though it was her that fell, she ripped me a new one for spilling that drink all over the both of us. She was a spitfire.”

There was something that changed in Hershel’s features when he sighed loudly and reached up to rub at the back of his neck, “We bickered back and forth. But God, she was so beautiful just standing there lecturing me. I thought she was my guardian angel. A sign sent from God to show me that I wasn’t supposed to have that drink. I tried telling her that, but she didn’t want to listen to me. I guess she was on a date that was going horrible at the time and she just wanted to get the hell out of there. I followed her out of that bar like a lost puppy, just trying to get her to listen to me.”

“And she fell for it?” she wondered watching the smile tug at Hershel’s lips.

“Nope, she told me to screw off,” Hershel declared with another laugh, his face having a light shade of pink flooding into it. “Before she did that, I told her everything. I told her about my past, why I was there and how I thought she was my guardian angel. Of course doing that meant I told her about my alcoholism and she wanted nothing to do with me. Why would she? I had a lot of baggage in my life and someone like her didn’t need all of that. I thought I would never see her again after that night. Maybe she was just put there to stop me from having that drink. So I went home back to Maggie and made sure to make a promise to myself that I would never drink again. I even threw away the clothes so Maggie wouldn’t be able to smell that.”

There was a silence between them when Hershel looked down at the ground again, “At that time I was very careful with your sister. See, Maggie was like Beau. She lost her mother too. She was younger than Beau, but it did something to her. So I was always protective of her,” Hershel claimed, lifting his gaze to both Beau and Y/N. “After Josephine died, Maggie just wasn’t…right. I think we all know that your sister is, I don’t know the word. A bit reckless maybe?”

“Hershel,” Beau muttered his name trying to get him to focus on what he wanted him to talk about since it seemed like Hershel was getting distracted.

“I’m getting there son,” Hershel assured Beau with a frown, holding his hands up to motion him to wait. While they agreed that losing her mother was hard for Maggie and they understood him being protective of her, it was getting away from the point he was really there for. “I took your sister to a fair that was in town one night. While we were there, we ran into your mother again. She was there with her godson and she was so good to your sister. I was smitten with her almost immediately. I knew when I saw her interacting with Maggie that I had to have her, so I asked her out on a date. She reluctantly agreed, but she was cautious. I think the only reason she said yes to me was that she fell in love with Maggie and liked the way that I was with her.”

Maggie was young, so it was likely that she never remembered much about her mother, but God Y/N wished that she would have. It would have been nice hearing things about her mother from Maggie because it sounded like Maggie actually had gotten to experience love, real love from her mother. If even for a short time.

“We went on our first date and I proclaimed my love for her at the end of the night. I asked her to marry me almost immediately. It was there. That special thing that I had with Josephine. I felt it. I know she did too, but she knew about my past. I was honest with her from the start and no matter how many times I asked her to marry me, she wouldn’t,” Hershel continued on with his story, biting at his bottom lip when he paused to think things out. “But it didn’t stop us from being together. She fought it, but you can’t stop real love. Can you?”

A tiny smirk tugged at Y/N’s lips hearing him say that as he continued, “Eventually she got pregnant with you and she was scared. She had lost her parents a long time ago and she didn’t have a lot of family, but I promised I would take care of her. That I loved her and I would always take care of her,” Hershel’s eyes started to tear over and, in that moment, she could actually sense the pain in her father’s tone. “God she was so excited to have you. Always writing down names in books that she wanted if you were a boy or girl. And when she went into labor, she finally agreed to marrying me. I was so happy. I felt like the luckiest man alive. I was in love with someone perfect. She really was perfect. I had a beautiful daughter and a beautiful new baby girl. I couldn’t have been happier.”

This story was not the one that she was used to. It was completely different and hearing it for the first time had chills running down her spine. Goosebumps covered her arms and she didn’t know if she should say something or just keep listening.

“We brought you home and everything was perfect up until you were about nine months old,” Hershel’s voice got raspier, his body becoming stiffer when the worst part of his memories returned to him. “Your mother started feeling run down. She never sat still that woman. Always on the run, always helping other people. I just thought she wasn’t getting enough sleep. And then she went to the doctors…”

It was then she heard the hurt sound escape Hershel’s throat and he lowered his head down, “your mother was sick. With the same…exact…thing that kill Maggie’s mother. There was nothing that could be done. We couldn’t stop it from happening. How does that happen? Two women in a row getting sick from the same thing? It didn’t make sense. I wanted to believe that a miracle would happen because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that I found love again and she was going…she was going to leave me. Just like Josephine.”

Leaning back on the couch, Y/N felt her throat tightening hearing what it was that finally did kill her mother in the end.

“This time it was fast. Not like Josephine. At least with Maggie, she got time to be with her mother. The sickness, it took your mother so fast. She was one of the strongest people I knew and she was always going, but it took her so fast. You were so young. The last thing she made me do was promise to take care of you,” Hershel thought back on Y/N’s mother showing that he was truly shaken up by the idea of losing her. “You don’t understand. I loved her, so much. I fell so hard. I thought I had found two soulmates in my life. And then the world took her away from me. I was broken. So broken,” Hershel tried to explain, pulling himself to the edge of the seat so he could look more directly at Y/N. “Even though I said I never would, I started drinking again.”

A sense of shock flooded her veins. Hershel always insisted that he stayed away from alcohol once he learned about Maggie, but to hear that he had lost his way in the time after her mother passed away had really shaken her up.

“I had two little girls at home waiting for me. The thought of her destroyed me. It broke me in two. I realized that the problem had to be me. I was poison. How could the two women that I fell in love with die of the same exact thing?” Hershel emphasized his words, tears sliding down his face when the two women he lost were remembered. And he wasn’t wrong. That was incredibly bad luck. “Then I started thinking, if I would have never approached your mother, maybe she would be still alive. Maybe she would still be here if she didn’t get with me.”

Beau’s arm hooked tighter around Y/N’s when he could see that she was getting more upset listening to her father talk about her mother. Looking to Beau, she felt her throat tensing up and Beau laid his head on her shoulder.

“I was drowning and no one was there to take care of my babies. I had a friend tell me it was time to wake up, so I had to do the one thing that would keep me alive for the two of you. And that was erase the memory of her. It was the only thing I thought I could do to help carry on. I tried setting everything on fire that reminded me of her, but I couldn’t do it. I loved her too much. Instead, I went up to the attic and I put those things there for years. Even if I wrote her off, she was still there in the back of my mind,” Hershel pointed toward Beau since he was the one that found the things that Y/N had approached Hershel about. It wasn’t the best excuse, but it made sense in how closed off from emotions her father was. Seeing her father crying was new for her. It was rare and it was a sight she never thought she would see. Especially when it came to her mother. “It was the only way to keep myself from falling again. I was so afraid of getting too close to someone because of how they always ended up sick. Annette I just got lucky with. When I was failing, she was there to pick up the pieces and take care of you girls. She’s put up with my shit for so long.”

Tears still lingered in her eyes when Hershel frowned, “I know I’ve not been a good father to you. You look so much like her Y/N. It hurts looking at you because I’m reminded all the time of the love that I lost. The woman that saved me…the woman that died because of me.”

“You didn’t make her sick,” Y/N interrupted her father knowing that if she died from the same thing that Josephine died from, there was nothing that he could have done to cause it. “That was just really bad, unfortunate luck, but it wasn’t your fault.”

“Isn’t it though? How does that happen?” Hershel looked to Y/N for an answer, her lips parting, but she had nothing more to say. Hell, if it was her in his position, she would have thought the same thing. That it was her fault. She just knew that she would have never taken it out on her child like Hershel did. “I thought I would lose you girls. I thought I would lose Annette. I know I’m poison. I’m no good. I wanted to so desperately be what my father wasn’t and I was so blind because my pain drew me to become just like him in many ways for you. I always knew you were going to leave me. You were so much like your mother. So independent. And it just made me cold. You looked like her, you acted like her and I just couldn’t handle it. That’s no excuse. I know it’s not, but I was so afraid that you were going to leave me that I broke myself off from you. It was wrong. I know that. I just did what I thought was the best way to keep myself from being my father and it’s not what I should have done. I should have let your mother live on through me and you. Instead, I erased her because I was scared. Scared that I would break down and leave you girls with nothing. So I made the wrong choice. It was very wrong, but you saw those photos.”

“I did,” she looked to the booklet that was sitting on the table in the distance and she agreed with him, she did look like her mother. Hershel was crying and Y/N was doing her best to be strong even though everything hurt to hear. “Thank you for telling me.”

“If there is such a thing as an afterlife, your mother is going to kick my ass when I finally meet my end,” Hershel proclaimed with a frown, reaching to wipe at his face. “I don’t expect you to ever forgive me Y/N. After this long, I should have been able to man up and be honest with you. I just convinced myself that if I allowed myself the time to grieve, I would become what I was so scared of being all over again. Just to make the pain stop. Because every time I think of your mother, I feel that pain…”

Hershel raised his hand up to place it over the center of his chest, his bottom lip quivering showing that he was emotional in the moment, “So I let you believe the lies I told. I even wanted to believe them myself so I didn’t have to face that pain again. It’s no excuse, but I am so very sorry. I know you won’t believe me, but I do love you. I just didn’t want what happened to your mother to happen to you. When we fought and you left…when you never came back, I just shut down that part of me like I did your mother. Instead of facing my feelings and taking on the pain, I was so cold to everything. I was just afraid of being hurt, so when the idea of pain reoccurred, I just tried to erase everything. And it was the wrong decision. I wish I could go back and change it, but I can’t. You were the last bit I had left of your mother and I lost you. This time it was completely my own fault.”

“Dad,” she breathed out watching when he stood up and moved before her. Hershel lowered down, reaching out to shakily cup her face in his hands. A loud exhale fell from her throat because she was not used to this kind of affection from the man knelt down before her.

“Your mother would be very proud of the person that you became. You’re none of the things that I’ve said. I’m just a mean old man that is angry that you left me and never looked back. I just never realized it was all my fault that it happened,” Hershel declared, his own words coming out shaken while he spoke to her. “I am so sorry. I know the mistake is mine and mine alone. I’m proud of who you are and what you have done. I should have been there every step of the way encouraging you and helping you instead of shutting down like I did.”

At this point, she was a mess when Hershel moved in to wrap his arms around her to hug her. It was the first time in her life she had ever heard him say something like that to her and she knew it was a big deal because of everything that happened, “I don’t want you gone from my life. I want you in my life because you are my daughter and I should have been showing you the love you deserved your whole life. I am so sorry that I didn’t.”

Forgiving him would be hard because of all the pain she went through her whole life, but this was a start. She just needed to know that he really meant it.

Pulling back, Hershel brushed her hair behind her ear and frowned, “Then this boy calls me and tells me that you turned his father down to a marriage proposal because you are torturing yourself over me,” Hershel recalled what had happened with Beau during their conversation, “If there is one thing I can tell you honey, it’s not to let that happen. I may not like Negan’s approach, but the things he said to me that day when he was upset with me in the attic, it’s exactly what I would want a man to say if he loved my daughter. That Negan loves you and if you learned anything from what I told you today, it’s that you can’t waste a minute if you truly love someone. Your mother was so scared about marrying me that we never did it and I regret every minute of it. I lost the woman I loved twice, don’t give up real love. Not when it’s there right in front of you.”

Looking to Beau, Y/N could see that his eyes were still damp from the crying that they had done and he was emotional with her being upset as well.

“What I’ve seen from both this boy and Negan is real love. You don’t always get that in life,” Hershel suggested with a shake of his head. “So please don’t make a mistake that will leave you broken hearted because of the words of this miserable old man that has done nothing but make mistakes his whole life. If you love that man, really love him, don’t let happiness slip through your fingers. Because if you mean what you said, that he’s the only person that makes you feel like you belong, then that’s the man that is for you. That’s who you are supposed to be with.”

A tense laugh fell from her throat. That took a lot out of Hershel. She was sure of that since Hershel and Negan had butted heads more than a few times. But with Hershel even telling her not to let that slip through her fingers, she knew that it was a big deal.

With a nod, Y/N looked between both Beau and Hershel before letting out a shuddering breath, “Are you willing to give us a ride?”

“Of course I am,” Hershel leaned forward to press a loving kiss against Y/N’s temple. Once he stepped back, both Beau and Y/N stood to their feet, but he motioned them to stop before they could get ready to leave. “Although, you’re going to have to wait a minute because I have no idea where I parked and I need to find the car first.”

“We’ll help you,” she responded, hooking her fingers with Beau so she could lead him toward the kitchen to grab her things.

As they were all about to head out, Y/N called out to Hershel and he stopped to look back at her. Heading over to him, she wrapped her arms around him to give him a hug. At first, he didn’t know how to respond, but after a moment he wrapped his arms around her. It was a firm hug, one that she had needed to have for a very long time from her father.

“Thank you for telling me what you did. If you really mean what you say, I’d like to spend more time with you and learn more about my mother,” she admitted with Hershel squeezing his arms around her tighter. "Because from what you say about her, I think she’d want me to forgive you and I’m willing to. As long as you put in the work too.”

“I will,” Hershel assured her, leaning back enough to stroke his fingers in over the side of her face. “I promise.”

----

Shifting uneasily on the couch, Negan looked to his watch to see the time. When Beau assured him that he would be coming home, Negan thought immediately. So the fact that it was taking this long for Beau to return was really making Negan panic. Beau had sent him multiple texts assuring Negan he was safe, but it was scaring the hell out of Negan. They had been watching Christmas movies when Beau had taken off and he still was with Erin. Well, Erin had fallen asleep in his lap while they stayed up waiting for Beau. There was no way that he would go to bed until his son was safely home.

Letting out a long sigh, Negan slid his hand into his pocket to pull out the jewelry box that was still there. Pushing it open with his thumb, Negan stared out at the ring and felt his chest aching at the sight of it. Earlier he thought he would have been spending his Christmas Eve with his children and Y/N. After she turned him down, it broke his heart, but he was doing his best to still show up for his children for Christmas since they were really what Christmas was about anyways.

Hearing the sound of the elevator ding, Negan turned his head back to look for Beau. When Beau didn’t walk into the room, he let out a small grunt. Adjusting Erin carefully, Negan moved his daughter so that she was sleeping comfortable on the couch. Cautiously getting up, Negan moved quietly to make sure that she stayed asleep before heading for the hallway that led to the elevator.

When he was met with an empty hallway, Negan’s head tipped to the side and he dropped his arms down at his side. The sound the elevator made was that it did when someone was returning to the level his apartment was on.

“Beau?” Negan called out to his son, worried when there was no response on the other side. Sighing loudly, Negan assumed that it was probably because Beau was moving slow, worried about his father getting upset with him. “You don’t have to hide Beau. I’m not mad at you, I’m just relieved that you are home. I promise. So why don’t you just come give me a hug and we can all go to bed. We can talk about whatever you did in the morning after we open gifts.”

A loud exhale fell from Negan’s throat when Y/N stepped out into the hallway and he felt his heart skip a beat, “Well shit. I was about to ask you not to go hard on him, but you have to go being the good father again. Don’t you?”

Speechless, Negan didn’t know what to say when she stepped forward in the hallway. Undoubtedly, the first thing he wanted to do was go up to her and wrap his arms around her, but after everything, he didn’t even know if that would be appropriate. “Beau was with you?”

“He was,” she answered with a frown, holding her hand out. Stepping forward, Beau accepted her hand and moved in beside her. There was a rosy color to Beau’s cheeks and he almost looked worried with how his father would respond to everything. “Beau showed up at my apartment and we had a good talk. Where he opened my eyes up to a lot of things. A lot of important things.”

“Oh yeah?” Negan’s eyebrow arched in curiosity when Beau rest his head in against her shoulder. Whatever their conversation was, it had no doubt an effect on the bond between his son and Y/N. “What kinds of things did you realize?”

“That I’m head over heels in love with you, him and Erin,” she explained stammering through her words, bringing Beau’s hand up to press a kiss over the back of his hand. Giving Beau a wink, she released his hand and stepped closer to Negan. The expression over Negan’s face was everything that she needed to see. Hearing that she still loved him drew him to let out a shuddering breath of relief. “Beau made me realize that it didn’t matter what someone said to me or what that voice inside my head tells me because it’s wrong.”

“He’s right,” Negan responded with a weak smile. “You are so much better than you really give yourself credit for.”

“And it’s because of the two of you that I see it,” she was close enough to Negan to draw him to let out a tremoring exhale. “Beau also made me realize that there was something in this world that brought us together. We were meant to find one another and be together.”

“Yeah?” Negan’s voice was broken, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat when he felt his eyes burning over.

“Yeah,” she answered, stepping before Negan who was frozen where he was standing. Lowering his head, Negan saw the back of her hand pressing in against his and he bit down on his bottom lip. “I’m so sorry I did what I did with running away. Your son is right about me. I got scared. I’ve never felt happiness like I do when I’m with you and your children. I was afraid that I would lose you or make life worse for you so I pushed you away. But you are the first person in this world that makes me feel like I’m not alone Negan. Like I’m actually special and I don’t want to lose that.”

Holding her hand out, she saw Negan look down at it, his lips parting and his bottom lip tremoring, “I want to be with you and your family Negan. I love you. I love everything about you. I love your smile. I love your personality, even when you are pissing people off. I love how good of a father you are. I love how much you love me. I just love you…”

“I love you too,” Negan whispered, accepting her hand, squeezing it firmly in his. Sweeping his thumb over the back of her hand, he could see that his son was watching on with awe in his eyes.

“You’re not wrong Negan, being separated from you hurts and I don’t think I would survive without you,” she repeated some of the things he had said to her in the past drawing a tiny smile from him. Lowering down onto one knee had a confused expression flooding in over Negan’s features. Digging into her pocket, she pulled out the ring pop that Negan had given her that night on the trail. A muted laugh fell from his throat when he saw it. “I’ve wasted enough of my life on things Negan. I need you. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. The love from both you and your son saved me when I didn’t even realize that I needed saving. I’ve never felt more alive than I do when I’m with all of you. So would you do me the honors of being my husband? Will you marry me Negan?”

“What do you think?” Negan scoffed, watching her smile when he nodded his head about. “Yes. Fucking of course I will.”

Sliding the ring pop up his finger as best as she could, they both laughed when it got stuck about a third of the way up. Pulling her up to him, Negan wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in against his chest. Bringing their lips together, Negan drew out the kiss and hummed against her lips before they separated.

“You stole my move,” Negan lifted his hand to stare out at the ring pop that she had proposed to him with.  

“It was a good one,” she responded, nuzzling her nose in against his. Slipping his hand down, Negan managed to grab the jewelry box from his pocket. Opening it up, he grabbed the engagement ring he had bought for her and raised her left hand up. Sliding it down her finger, Negan stared down at it for a minute before lowering his head to press a kiss over the back of her hand. “I’m sorry for saying no earlier. I just wasn’t thinking with a clear mind. But now I know. I love you so much and I can’t be without you.”

Instead of responding, Negan brought her into another loving hug that had him nuzzling his nose in against the side of her neck, “you don’t have to apologize to me Y/N. I love you and I was going to wait for you as long as I had to because I knew that we were meant to be together. I love you so fucking much and I would have never given up.”

“I know,” she pulled back enough to stroke over the side of his face in a tender sweep. “Are you going to be okay with the fact that I’m the one that asked you to marry me?”

“Well, technically I asked first, well, twice, but…” Negan teased with a wrinkle of his nose, stealing another quick kiss from her. “I’m okay with telling people that you were the one to propose. Whatever makes you the happiest, makes me the happiest.”

The sound of something knocking over was heard and it drew Negan to lift his head to see Beau standing at the edge of the kitchen. Giving a half wave, Beau smiled uneasily before shifting on his feet.   

“So I owe this to my son?” Negan wondered, squeezing his arms tighter around Y/N who eagerly accepted the gesture.

“You do,” she acknowledged that this was all because of Beau that she was here right now.

“Come here,” Negan ordered, wiggling his finger out at Beau who gave a big smile. Nodding, Beau moved forward swiftly, eager to accept the group hug from the both of them. “Thank you, buddy. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you.”  

“He always knows what to say,” Y/N informed Negan with a weak smile, pulling back enough so that she could press her hand in over the side of Beau’s face. “I’ve never met someone with a bigger heart than Beau.”

“My beautiful, sweet boy,” Negan brushed his fingers through Beau’s hair noticing that Beau’s eyes were tearing over. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too,” Beau whispered dropping his head down to cuddle it in over Negan’s shoulder. “I just want all of us to be happy. And I knew that the only way for all of us to be happy…was to be together.”

Taking that moment to cherish the two in his arms, Negan closed his eyes and squeezed them close. Even though this didn’t turn out exactly the way that he thought it would, this was the best outcome that he could have wished for after everything that occurred. They were together and that’s what counted most.  

“How in the world did you get all the way out to her house?” Negan blurt out, pulling back and interrogating his son, surprised that Beau was able to pull off what he did. “I know you hate the subway and you wouldn’t get into a cab…”  

Someone cleared their throat making Negan lift his head to see that Hershel was in his hallway with his hands behind his back alerting Negan that it was him that Beau was with, “Well shit. You don’t have a shotgun with you. Do you?”

“Oh, no,” Hershel pulled his hands forward to show that they were empty. “And no more shotguns. Unless you plan to break her heart. Then, I might have to reconsider on the shotguns. I am sorry for that.”

“I don’t plan on breaking her heart,” Negan snickered, leaning down to nuzzle his nose in against the side of Y/N’s neck. “So I think we’re going to be good Hersh.”

“I may have called him and talked to him while Erin had you distracted. I convinced him to come down here to talk to Y/N so she could finally know about her mother,” Beau educated his father on what happened and what he missed. Surprised, Negan looked to Y/N who simply gave him a nod. “They are willing to work on things together.”

“Really?” Negan was surprised to hear that considering everything that happened.

“Really,” she informed Negan with a loud swallow. “We will talk about things tonight.”

“Are we all better now?” Erin’s tired voice was heard and they looked to see that she was standing in the doorway of the kitchen staring out at them with her big, tired, green eyes. Her polar bear stuffed animal was under her arm and she looked like she was ready to pass out. Waving Erin forward, Negan picked her up in his free arm pulling her in close so they could all be together.  

“Much better,” Negan peppered kisses against the side of Erin’s face.  

“Well, then…what are we still doing up?” Erin asked, pointing back toward the Christmas tree. “If we don’t go to sleep Santa won’t come. You know that.”

“You know what? She’s right,” Negan agreed with Erin, looking beyond them to Hershel. “I have a guest room Hersh. What do you say? You can stay with us until morning and then you can leave in the morning after Santa has come. I think with all the snow it would be a good idea for you to stay here for the night.”

“Are you sure?” Hershel confirmed and Negan gave him a slow nod.

“We’ll set you up in a minute,” Negan assured him, lowering in to press his forehead against Y/N’s. Having both of his children and Y/N in his arms was everything to him. Especially now after everything they had been through. “This is the best Christmas gift I could have ever asked for. With you, Erin and Beau. I couldn’t picture anything better than being with the things I love the most in this world.”

“I’m sorry the present came a little late,” Y/N hummed against his lips, stealing another quick kiss from them.

“Better late than never,” he whispered with a smile, nuzzling his nose in against hers. “I have a whole life to look forward to with you and I don’t plan on wasting a single second of it.”  

----

ONE YEAR LATER

“Is dinner almost ready babe?” Y/N called out from where she was before the Christmas tree with Beau and Erin putting the presents under the tree. Looking to her watch, she stole another quick glance at the time before sighing. “I think Maggie said she would be here with Glenn and little Hershel in less than a half hour. My parents and the others will be a little bit later.”

“Almost,” Negan called out from the kitchen getting her attention back on him to see that he was standing in the doorway with their three-month-old son in his arms. “Felix and I are doing our best to get everything done, but daddy needed to take a break to feed him because he got hungry.”

“Aren’t we all?” Erin questioned with a small laugh, gazing upon the presents that were before her. “I’m glad everyone is coming here this year just for dinner. Last year was nice, but home is so much more comfortable than being at the farm all that time.”  

“You’re not wrong and we’re lucky they are going home after dinner,” Beau piped in with a tiny snicker getting up from the floor. Heading over toward Negan, Beau grabbed Felix and held him closely to his chest. “Unlike last year where we had to spend days with everyone, at the end of tonight we get to kick all of them out of our apartment.”

“What are you trying to say?” Y/N smirked drawing Beau’s eyebrows to bounce up before he chuckled and started humming something to his little brother who was cooing out.  

“I’m saying I think we’re all going to be happier when it’s just us at the end of the night together on Christmas,” Beau answered as he made a silly face down at Felix who was staring up at him behind heavy eyelids. “I know you are getting close to your family again, but it’s still nice to have them leave. We have Christmas Eve with your family, they leave and then Christmas is for us. I think that will be nice. Don’t you?”

“I think Christmas alone with all of us will be wonderful,” she agreed with Beau, letting out an amused sound before pressing a kiss to his temple.

“He’s not wrong you know, it’s nice getting people to leave at the end of the day,” Negan commented when they all headed into the kitchen. Negan helped Erin into her seat where she stole one of the sugar cookies that they all had made together earlier. “I like when it’s just all of us together.”

“That’s my favorite too,” Y/N hummed, stepping forward to draw her finger down over the center of Negan’s chest. Tipping up on her toes, she brought their lips together which had Beau letting out an overwhelmed sound.

“We’ll be quick,” Negan promised his son with a wrinkle of his nose, hooking his arms loosely around Y/N’s hips. “It’s interesting how I predicted our future almost a year ago. Married with a young baby…”

“Anyone could have predicted the baby with how the two of you are,” Beau reminded them moving forward to hand Felix to Negan again carefully. Once he had Felix in his arms again, Negan headed over toward where Erin was sitting so that she could see her little brother. “I have to get the food out of the oven.”

“Hey,” Y/N called out motioning both Erin and Beau in so they could all do a group hug. “I love you all so much. I hope you know that.”

“And we love you too,” Negan hummed, pressing a lingering kiss over her cheek, enjoying the way that their little family still continued to love one another. “And we always will.”

----

Tags: @slutlanna976 @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @de-gabyconamor @ibelongtonegan @smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams  @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan @redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted @akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03 @sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf @hollyismentallyillhelp @promiscuousbarnes​ @tone-stark @lanadelnegan @flippittygibbitts @stickyhuesos @dilfsandmartinis

#Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Negan #The Walking Dead #negan fanfiction #negan x reader #twd fanfiction #negan x you #negan smith

[thefrogdalorian]

Hold Me Close

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Word Count:  3.4k Rating: General Summary: In the aftermath of Grogu's departure to be with his own kind, your riduur is nowhere to be found, with little indication - other than a message disk - as to his whereabouts. You anxiously await his return. Yet the man who eventually comes back to you is a broken, shadow of the man you fell in love with. Content Warnings: Slight mention of blood/injuries but nothing too graphic. Author's Note: I made this post about hugging Din and then this just sort of took root in my brain. I don't know why he is always going through it in my fics, poor man cannot catch a break with me ha. Anyway hope you enjoyed! Was nice to just sit and write out a little brainworm, I loved just getting this one out of me and using some more Mando'a! Such a cool language and you can express so many beautiful sentiments. Hope you enjoyed!

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

The rain thumped against the windowpane with such veracity that were it not for the luxurious hotel you were staying in, you would be concerned that the glass was about to fail. The sun had not long set and a brilliant array of technicoloured signs were beginning to light the Uscru District. It was usually your favourite time of day, but this time, as evening set in, you were devastated by your desolation. The fading light marked another day of solitude. The third since he had left, meaning you had one more night.

Watching some of the planet’s three trillion inhabitants go about their lives on the bustling street far below had helped distract you from the queasy feeling that had first formed in your stomach several days ago when you had woken up to an empty bed. It was crushing to know that he should be here now, with you. Both of them should be.

Instead, there was no love, light and laughter filling the room thanks to the presence of your boys. Instead, you had been left in the impossibly opulent suite of an extravagant hotel – with the price tag to match – completely alone. You had baulked at the figure that the protocol droid had recited for a five night stay. But Din had not hesitated in placing the credits on the desk before the droid, despite your protestations.

You knew you should be grateful that he had at least arranged such comfortable lodgings for you, before he left. Yet the vastness of the suite only added to your feelings of emptiness. There was no laughter as your riduur played with your adiik. Only the gut wrenching sounds of the sobs and whimpers torn from your body, as the pain threatened to envelop every fibre of your being. 

Now that it had happened, you chastised yourself for failing to adequately prepare for the inevitability of the day. When your ad would return to his kind. After all, when you had first met the little one’s buir, he told you that the child was only with him temporarily. Didn’t stop either of you from getting attached, though.

You sighed and padded across the room, towards the nightstand where the message disk that had answered all of your questions had been placed after he left. You knew that watching it one more time would only serve to cause you more pain, but you found yourself drawn to pressing that little button. It was the only way to feel close to him. 

Immediately, a projection of the helmet you loved so much appeared, suspended in mid-air with a pale blue glow around it. You yearned to see his face again, the fact that he was wearing his helmet indicated to you that Din had pre recorded this. It had always been his plan to leave, it seemed. The thought that he had acted so calmly around you as you had prepared yourself to sleep that night chilled you. He was accustomed to a life of compartmentalising his emotions though, given his former profession as a bounty hunter. A profession that had brought the two of you together. 

But then his rich, gravelly voice filled the room and your ruminations were brought to an abrupt end as your body responded to the sound. 

“Cyare,

I need some time by myself to come to terms with recent events. I am sorry for leaving you and I know you will be worried, but I know you would have never agreed to let me go otherwise. I will be fine. There is nothing on Coruscant more dangerous than obstacles I have previously overcome.

Please, do not come looking for me. I want you to enjoy the amenities that the hotel provides.

I will be back before the credits I put down expire.

Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.”

You sighed. There was no way you could possibly have enjoyed the amenities, like Din had suggested. You had heeded his request not to come looking for him, though. 

Instead of appreciating the luxuries of the expensive hotel, you had found yourself in your room, with nothing to do but gaze out of the window in between dissolving into sobs. You had replayed Din's message so many times over the last few days that you had feared the flimsy little disk might disintegrate in your palm. Each time looking for new meaning that wasn't there. Din had done his best to comfort you, but you felt anything but comforted. Speaking that affection to you in Mando’a, a phrase that you had been so blown away by when you had first been told of its meaning.

“I know your name forever,” he had said, in the typical Mandalorian declaration of love. But Din’s actions felt anything but loving. He had left, abandoned you to comprehend the void that had been opened by the sight of your beloved boy being carried away in the arms of the Jedi.

You had been stunned when, aboard Boba Fett’s ship, Din had requested passage to Coruscant when you had reunited with him after the mission aboard Gideon’s light cruiser. It was the last place you would have expected Din to want to travel to, given how busy the planet was. You spent most of the journey questioning why precisely Din had chosen such a bustling planet to escape to. You had expected that he would have wanted to find some peace of mind after the heartbreaking events on Gideon’s light cruiser somewhere far more peaceful than a planet with a population of three trillion people.

After everything that had happened, surely Din and you would have been far happier on a secluded planet with plenty of nature to ground yourselves in and come to terms with the devastating loss. But Din did not consult you. If he had, you would have suggested Naboo, with its beautiful countryside and warm climate – especially in the secluded Lake Country – it could have been the perfect place. 

Now, as you sat on the edge of the luxurious four-poster sleeper, your mind wandered to thoughts of how differently things could have turned out, had Din’s desire to isolate himself not taken over. You daydreamed about lush grass, gentle breeze and crystal clear water lapping at your ankles as you and Din strolled hand in hand through one of the lakes. Sighing deeply and allowing the fresh, sweet air to envelop you as you glanced over at Din. Appreciating the way his tousled brown hair was still slightly from an earlier swim in the lake and how the tips of some of his curls were slightly blond thanks to the sun. His brown eyes flecked with honey in the sunlight as he gazed at you with equal reverence. His bronzed, sunkissed skin making him look a world away from the pale shell of a man you had last observed in this very hotel room…

The sound of the door opening caused your eyes to fly open. You realised that you were lying back on the sleeper, the dryness of your mouth indicating that you had dropped off to sleep, your exhausted mind demanding the rest that you had neglected to give it.

Now, disorientated and panicking at the intrusion into the room where you had been wallowing for days, you sat bolt upright on the sleeper. 

“It’s me,” that familiar, deep voice declared. 

Din had returned.

You fumbled with the lamp on the nightstand, feeling your heart constrict at the sight that greeted you as the room was bathed in a warm glow. The first thing you noticed were the various dark splatters of unidentified origin darkening Din’s ordinarily-pristine helmet. You noticed that his cowl was slightly torn, exposing just a sliver of tan skin. It was unlike him, to be so careless in his appearance. As your eyes descended lower, you noticed the way his broad shoulders were hunched forward, a visible indication of his anguish. He usually stood tall and proud. Ner cerar. Your mountain. It was unsettling to see Din so utterly broken like this.

“Are you alright?” You frantically questioned as you pushed yourself off the sleeper and closed the distance between the two of you. You were still angry with him, but the time to discuss his actions could come later. For now, your priority was making sure that Din was okay.

Din’s lack of response, save for a shaky intake of breath that was amplified by his vocoder, threatened to break you entirely. You understood now that he did not want to talk about whatever he had been up to; wherever he had been and whoever he had encountered which had clearly inflicted such damage upon him. Din would only talk about it when he was ready to. It was pointless to bring it up and deal with the inevitable shutdown before then.

Despite the armour somewhat hindering your ability to wrap your arms around Din’s waist, you managed to secure your arms around him. You held him tightly, your arms resting in the gap above his belt, underneath the beskar which covered his chest and abdomen. Although the shock of the ice-cold steel against your cheek was initially uncomfortable, as you brought your head against Din’s chestplate, just next to his ka’rta beskar, you felt truly calm for the first time in days. 

Having Din back in your arms brought you the comfort that you had been missing for days. Feeling the warmth of the man beneath that cold, hard armour as you held him tightly in your arms, drawing his strong body to you, brought you immense relief. Din seemed to be deriving solace from your embrace, too. Your heart soared as you heard a shy little huff, barely audible from underneath his helmet as he adjusted to being held in your arms.

That sound gave you more confidence, you knew that Din was relishing the contact. You moved your hands up slightly and began to rub tentative circles into his back, beneath his back armour plate. Din sighed contentedly and you moved your hands to his sides, rubbing your hands up his waist and feeling the firm warmth of his skin below his dark brown flightsuit. You stood there for a few moments, your small, tender movements appeared to be going some way to ease Din’s anguish. You felt his body loosen as he practically melted into your embrace.

Eventually, Din’s large gloved hands began caressing your back in return, showing his appreciation for your soothing touches. You felt immensely relieved that you were able to help him, grateful that he had returned to you. You had never doubted for one second that Din would not keep his word and come back to you. He was a man who kept to his word; a decent man of integrity and of honour. Yet, there was that nagging fear that something would prevent the two of you from being reunited, events beyond your control. Coruscant was a planet with many seedy areas, including a sleazy underworld. It would be all too easy for Din to become embroiled in something, a misunderstanding or a disagreement perhaps, with devastating questions given the nefarious characters that lined the streets there…

“Thank you, cyare,” Din breathed, distracting you from that depressing line of thoughts that your mind had once again slipped into. 

“I missed you so much,” you whispered. “Oh, Din… I was so worried about you.” 

“I'm sorry for worrying you. I just needed…” Din swallowed thickly. “I needed to deal with things, wrap my head around the fact that he's gone.” 

“I know, I know,” you attempted to soothe Din. But the truth was, thinking about what had been taken from you on the light cruiser was too devastating to contemplate. Instead, you decided to focus your efforts on comforting the man before you. “Is there anything I can do, now?”

“Hold me close, cyare. Don’t ever let me go,” Din squeaked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You wrapped your arms around Din’s waist once again, squeezing him tightly. You were more than happy to comply with his request, drawing as much comfort and strength from the way your bodies fit together as Din did. But you felt the cold bite of beskar against your hands and recoiled slightly, wishing Din would just remove the awkward, cumbersome barrier to your embrace. 

“It might be easier if you took some of this off, you know,” you said, voice light. It was an observation rather than a complaint. You hoped that acknowledging the barrier between the two of you would go some way to lightening Din’s mood, but there was no response. The man who was usually so stoic and composed had crumbled before you, devastated at the loss of the little boy that he had cared for as a father. 

You would never forget the tears in Din’s eyes as he watched the terrible scene unfolding before him, of the Jedi walking off with the child who meant everything to him. Removing his helmet like that had been a violation of his Creed, something the two of you had not yet discussed. As far as you were concerned, your riduur was still every inch the Mandalorian that you had always known him to be. 

You wondered if knowledge that he was technically an apostate explained his sudden apprehension at removing his helmet in front of you. You were frustrated that Din was hiding behind his helmet, wanting more than anything to give him a reassuring kiss on the cheek and stroke your fingers through his soft dark brown curls. You did not want to not push or prod him to take a step that went beyond his comfort zone, though. The man had been through enough recently.  

You looked up questioningly as Din dropped his hands from where they had been resting on your back. Then, with trembling hands, Din reached up and removed his helmet. Nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greeted you.

Din Djarin looked utterly broken, a shell of himself. Your handsome riduur was almost unrecognisable. It was clear that wherever he had been, he had not been taking care of himself. His eyes weren’t meant to be this sunken and haunted. Din’s cheeks were hollow, he looked gaunt; a shadow of the man you knew and loved. As you stared into the warm brown eyes you adored you noticed to your horror that they were utterly devoid of any vibrancy or joy. Instead, they were bloodshot and both their appearance and the deep, dark bags under his eyes, was an indication that he had not slept since he had marched out of your hotel in the dead of night almost four days ago. The fantasy of running your hands through Din’s soft curls was to be unrealised as his hair was matted. His facial hair was unkempt too.

His dishevelled appearance utterly shattered you. 

How could you ever begin to repair his fractured soul? You had a vague notion that if you brought your fingertips to his forehead and cheeks, perhaps you could smooth out the deep wrinkles that lined his handsome face, more pronounced than you remembered. 

“Oh, Din… you haven’t been taking care of yourself,” you observed, as much as yourself for him.

Din shook his head in response.

“Where did you go?”

“Tracing an old contact in the lower levels. Got into a few fights in Cantinas,” Din explained, slowly removing his gloves and showing you his swollen, bruised knuckles as proof. The blood that had oozed from the wounds now dried and blackened. 

You shook your head and took his large hand in yours, bringing the tender, misshapen knuckles to your lips and kissing them softly, one by one. If only a simple kiss could undo all of the hurt.

“I thought you left this life behind, Din.”

“I thought Grogu would never leave.”

You inhaled sharply. Hearing his name was difficult. Another punch to the stomach. 

“He’s with his kind, now, Din,” you murmured, voice cracking under the weight of the words. “We have to move on. Together.”

Din nodded, gaze finally meeting yours. 

“I’m sorry for leaving you. I shouldn’t have done that. We’re a team, you’re my riduur…”

“I am,” you agreed, relieved he seemed to have remembered that. “Don’t shut me out, Din.”

“I won’t,” Din shook his head. 

“Good,” you breathed. There was still much you wanted to discuss, especially Din's tendency to isolate himself in times of stress. But the time for such onerous conversations would come. For now, it was clear that the two of you needed to lean on each other for support during such a terrible time.

“The contact gave me a name, by the way. For a planet,” Din explained. “Somewhere called Glavis Ringworld. It’s many parsecs from here, it’ll probably take us several months without a ship and I…”

“Din.” You raised your hand, stopping him in his tracks. “You look like you haven’t rested properly since the last time I saw you. How about you take a shower? It's a real one, not a sonic. The jets are hotter than Mustafar and powerful too, unlike anything I’ve felt for years. Take a shower. Then we need to sleep. I’ll hold you all night, ner cerar,” you promised, using the nickname you always used for Din: my mountain. He was your pillar of strength and even if he did not feel strong himself, it was important for him to know that you still revered him as much as ever. 

Din nodded slowly, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it softly as he headed to the ‘fresher. You sighed in his wake. Still unsettled from the arduous events of the day, the emotional upheaval. But Din was back with you now. It seemed that he had already formed a plan for the next steps that the two of you would take. His way of coping with losing Grogu had been moving between the various shady establishments of Coruscant’s underworld, as though a hunter stalking his prey.

You supposed that side of Din would never truly leave him. You and Grogu had done your part in bringing the love that you knew had always been buried deep within him to the surface. Yet it was not a straightforward process. Progress would not be linear. But you had taken those sacred vows that declared you were one when together and when parted; that you would share all and you would raise warriors. The little warrior you had been raising together was gone now, back with his own kind, who would nurture and cherish his talents in a galaxy so fraught with danger.

Now it was up to you and Din to live up to the other vows. You hoped that he would truly share everything with you now, as you travelled to some far-flung planet at a distant corner of the galaxy. There was nowhere to hide now. The worst had happened. It was up to the two of you to get through it and adapt to a new life together. 

Din emerged from the ‘fresher, the spark somewhat restored in his eyes. You noticed that his hair no longer matted; it was damp and slightly tousled, as it had been in your Nabooian fantasies. You wondered if it could be a possible pit stop on your journey to the planet Din had mentioned.

But all thoughts of Glavis Ringworld were far from your mind as you held the surprisingly narrow waist of your riduur tightly. It was as though you feared he would slip away from you again. If Din found the strength in your grip painful, he did not vocalise those thoughts.

“Jate ca, cyare,” Din sighed, wishing you good night in the beautiful ancient language of the Mandalorian people.

“Jate ca,” you breathed. “Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, ner atin cerar.”

Din’s recent actions in shutting you out were stubborn, so you did not feel too bad at affixing that description to the affectionate nickname you had for him. You kissed his cheek softly, grateful that he had trimmed his facial hair. You relaxed when you noticed his shallow, even breaths which indicated that he was finally getting the rest he so desperately needed.

Din had given you a terrible fright with his departure, but the broken state he had returned to you in and the comfort he had drawn from you had made you feel more secure than ever in his love for you. Now, as the two remaining members of Clan Mudhorn, you would begin your travels across the galaxy to your ultimate destination. 

Together, sharing all as you went. 

Mando'a phrases:

riduur - spouse

adiik - young child

buir - father

Cyare - beloved

Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum - I know you eternally (I love you)

ka’rta beskar - iron heart

Ner cerar - my mountain

Jate ca - goodnight

Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, ner atin cerar - I love you, my stubborn mountain

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #my fics

[bpsmuts]

Truth or Dare - Rose [PART 2]

Part 1 here

Rose x Male Reader

Words: 1.090

Summary: Rose keeps her side of the deal and returns the favor, before things escalate....

You look deep into her eyes as Rose gets closer and cuddles up next to you. You two are watching Finding Nemo and just passed a sad scene, that left Rosie sniffling next to you.

"Come here babe" you console her. "You know Y/N its just so sad, how is this fish gonna find his son??" Rose stammers. As the extremely adorable girl next to you continues to sniffle you suddenly begin to feel a little hazy.

It gets even weirder as something in the room starts to make suction and slurp sounds. You finally open your eyes and realize what had happened. You were sleeping... dreaming... of Rose.

The sounds however continued and you felt awfully nice. You look down and see the Kiwi Girl with her beautiful white and purple hair between your spread legs.

She is in the middle of softly taking your hard dick into her mouth and sucking on it ever so slightly. Since she hasn't noticed you yet, you try to stay quiet and enjoy it for just a little longer, but as Rose took your dick out of her mouth and continued to lick and kiss it you couldn't help yourself.

"Mhhhh.." you moan. The girl stops and looks up at you. "I was wondering how long it was gonna take" Rose responds in her sweet New Zealand accent. You still seem a little lost, so Rose continues "I'm returning the favor... you know... from last night".

"Oh.. y-yeah" you stumble. "Anything wrong Y/N?" she asks you. "No.. its just, I was dreaming of you, before I woke up" you answer Rose's question.

"Dreaming of me? What happened?" Rosie asked as she continued to slowly stroke your length. "We were watching Finding Nemo and you were devastated when Nemo lost his dad". Rose cant help herself but to burst out laughing in the sweetest laugh you've ever heard.

"It is a very emotional movie you know" she smirks as she lowers herself, placing her mouth right in front of your dick. "Well, should I continue or do you want to reminisce about your dream?" Rose asks you.

Feeling the girl's breath on your tip acted like a spark and you instantly became horny again, totally forgetting about the absurd dream. "Please Rosie" you respond.

She smiles as she lowers her head, licking your length from the base to the tip before letting it glide into her mouth. Seeing and feeling her head move up and down almost hypnotized you.

"A-Aah Rosie" you stutter as the sweet kiwi girl continues to give you the single best blowjob you've ever received. You could definitely see, why so many guys liked her back in High School, now.

You can feel yourself getting closer as Rose pushes your dick further into her mouth taking your entire length with gagging only slightly. "Ooooohh my god babe" you moan surprised.

"Babe?" Rose asks stopping briefly. "Sorry Rosie, just slipped out" you respond getting a little red. "Its alright love" Rose reassures you before continuing.

"I'm getting close Rosie" you moan. Rose slows down and then comes to a complete stop. She moves up a little. "How about we have some real fun?" she asks seductively. "Are you sure this is a good idea Rose? I don't want to ruin anything between us or have it be weird" you speak out.

"Why would it be weird Y/N? We've already had Oral Sex, why not have Vaginal Sex?" she asks "Plus you'd get to shoot your load inside me" she adds in a very erotic manner.

"Fine" you say before pulling her close and starting to kiss her. Rose sinks into the kiss and before you know it, the two of you are making out. As you roughly kiss each other, your hands slowly move onto Rose's ass, squeezing it slightly.

You get a moan of approval from Rose and your hand continues its way a little further down until it reaches her core. You instantly feel how wet Rosie is and start to move your finger up and down her pussy.

"How are you so good at this?" Rose asks in between moans before meeting your lips once again. Your finger now being wet as well, you slowly push it inside Rosie's vagina, earning you more and louder moans from the sweet kiwi girl.

You continue to finger her for a while before she breaks the kiss. "P-Please Y/N... I'm ready" Rose tells you as she sits up and aligns her pussy with your dick before she slowly slides down onto you.

You instantly feel her tight folds wrapping around your length as both of you let out moans of pleasure. Once you're completely inside Rosie, she quickly takes off the white t-shirt that she had been wearing since last night, giving you full view on her boobs.

Rose then starts to move up and down, letting out heavy moans with it. Your hands move onto her boobs for the first time and you can't help but smile as you play with them.

She picks up on that "Y-Y-You like em?" she stammers in between moans. "I do Rosie" you let her know.

Rosie continues to move up and down on your dick, giving both of you the pleasure you haven't had in ages. "I'm getting close" Rose moans loudly. "Me too Rosie" you exhale gasping for more air.

You can feel your cum about to shoot, right as Rose's walls contract around your length. Shortly after you finally shoot your load deep into Rose who has stopped moving and is now sitting on top of you leaning on your shoulders for support.

Rose shrieks as she feels your cum inside her and reaches her climax shortly after, before collapsing on top of you.

You both catch your breath for a moment before Rose moves off your dick, dropping some of your semen onto it. "Oops.. let me get that" she says, turning you on again.

She moves lower and once again taker you entire length into her mouth, sucking your dry and showing you her tongue, with your cum on it before swallowing.

"Oh my god Rose.. why are you so hot?" you ask her while still catching your breath. "Yeah... says you Y/N" Rose replies.

You two both lie next to each other, catching your breath before Rose breaks the silence. "Breakfast?". "Only if we stay naked" you answer.

"Haven't had enough of the sight yet? I get it." Rose responds before getting up.

#blackpink imagines #blackpink smut #blackpink x reader #male reader #blackpink #rose x male reader #rose x reader #rose smut #chaeyoung

[crash-and-cure]

If I Were You Part 5 (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: Love is the only rational act. Call him crazy or unhinged all you want, that sounds just about right to Elvis. 

A/N: Well... it’s been a minute. Sorry y’all I’ve been having to deal with a move recently which set me back alot in terms of finding free time to write but I’d rather it be late and good than early and rushed. This chapter is going to be from Elvis POV so if it feels like there is a bit of a heel turn from reader know that that is why. We’ll also be getting insight as to how reader has been feeling these last few months and how she handles what happened in this chapter in the next.

Warnings: Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of obsessive, manipulative, jealous, and heavily delusional behavior as well as references to previous blackmail, emotional and otherwise, here too. Dubious consent in some areas. Inappropriate relationship with a Therapist (Though she is no longer one at the moment). Depictions of a therapy session. Explicit sexual content depicted that includes Penetrative sex (m/f), Daddy Kink, Praise kink, a bit of somnophilia (she does not stay asleep), vaginal fingering, and a tiny bit of anal play. Also mentions of Elvis' mommy issues, though he’ll never call them that and reader’s daddy issues because parallels. Period typical misogyny depicted and reflected by POV character’s attitude towards women in the orkplace. Finally depictions of a toxic relationship that include power imbalances, emotional manipulation, heavy use of coercion, grabbing that leads to bruising and deception. Please do not interact if you are under 18.

Word count: 14K

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4

Masterlist

Humility is something Elvis always tries to work towards. Even as his star grew to new heights he could never have dreamed of before, he always in the back of his head felt as though he was just a step away from losing it all. And he almost did, not in the sense of losing the fame or the money, but he did lose sight of what he loved, in who he loved and 

But people didn’t stop loving him. 

He’s been honest with you that this was a heavy burden he had to bear, that need to fix himself not for his own sake but for others. The idea that him running himself ragged into an early grave felt less like a fear, and more like an inevitability. 

And yet he beat the odds, and now he looks forward to all that life has to offer now.  

Elvis tries to be humble, but it’s hard to do so when every morning he gets to wake up next to the most beautiful, most intelligent, and most caring woman in the world, with the full knowledge that you’re his alone. 

He never thought it was possible to love someone so deeply like this. 

Sure at first you yourself used to see an issue in this kind of love, but he eventually brought you around. Sure it can be an awful thing when someone is vile, and taking advantage of the other, but he knows he never has to worry about that from you. 

You take care of each other, and ain’t that what it’s all about? 

Those other people don’t know what the two of you got, and have never experienced a love like yours. If they could even experience a fraction of the love he felt for you, they would understand why nothing could keep him away from you. How cruel it would in fact be to keep either of you apart. 

Now as he holds you in his arms he’s content in the knowledge that no one has any right to do so. 

Those first few months of your relationship, there would be times when he woke up and even seeing you he couldn’t entirely trust it was truly you. His mind had played tricks on him before with all those other women he had had right before you, and he would have to feel the devastating grief that these women weren’t you. 

He doesn’t even remember most of their names, considering how many of them left because of how often he would say your name when he wasn’t being careful, it was probably for the best. Part of him wonders if any of them ever figured out they were stand-ins for you, the other part worries that he doesn't feel particularly guilty even if they did. 

But these worries quickly die as he looks down on your beautiful face. 

He liked seeing you so sleepy, those early months, it’s when you were most honest he thinks. Too tired to think too hard about anything save for the feelings he knows he brings out in you. Just awake enough to know what you’re doing and more importantly to know how to enjoy yourself. When you’re soft and pliable just the way he likes you, but just as ravenous and willful as any wildcat to really make him work up an appetite. 

He lifts the covers off of the both of you and he gets to see how the hem of your baby doll had ridden up well past your hips, and he licks his lips seeing his breakfast. 

He knows that your body wanted him before your mind did. That on some deeper level you wanted him, long before you could think so, let alone admit it. And he sees it in these moments as you’re still dead asleep but you squirm under his touch. Breathy sighs fall from your plush lips as he lazily brushes his fingers along your inner thighs  

He wonders what you dream about these days. You once told him how dreams can have any meaning you assign them to have, and it’s within his power to decide. 

He once told Priscilla that he was “all outta dreams,” and he could safely say he feels the same way with you. Before those words meant how he felt hopeless in such a bleak situation, but now they mean the utter contentment he feels everyday when he’s with you. 

Something you gave him, and in spite of all that he’s done to get you here, he will happily spend the rest of his days paying you back. You’ve helped him in ways you probably couldn’t imagine, as now, he wants for nothing but you anymore. 

And when his hand finally reaches into that warm piece of heaven between your legs, there is no hiding the way he makes you feel. You squirm under his touch, not having even been anywhere close to waking up. He hopes that he now occupies your dream world now as you have done since he’s met you. 

Your eyes don’t immediately shoot open, but you jump a little as he starts to drag you back to the waking world. With a half-lidded unfocused stare, you’re all lazy smiles and breathy moans as you buck your hips against his hand all the while your ass rocks against him, stirring up little Elvis from his slumber. He wonders if you believe you’re still dreaming, after all in his mind everyday with you feels like one. 

You’ve become so compliant since you left your job for him. You don’t gotta worry about no office to be at or other patients you need to see. You don’t mind being seen with him out and about anymore. You especially don’t mind the marks he leaves on you, which is a good thing especially now as he’s in a mood to mark you where he can today. 

But you, in your half-asleep state, apparently have other plans. He feels as you blindly reach between your legs to grab a hold of him, catching him off-guard slightly as he starts to feels his cock part your folds. Then without a word of warning you close your thighs, and it’s like a punch to the gut it feels so good. You’re warm as all get out, and your thighs are still slick from last night, but the major difference between this and your little love cavern is your teasing fingers that gently bring the very tip of him up to continuously nudge at your clit. 

It’s enough to drive any man insane. 

It truly takes everything within him to pull away from you, and from the needy little whine you give, you feel the same. He turns you around and puts you right to straddle his lap. Your head lolls a bit at the swift motion, not entirely awake, but you practically jolt awake when he grabs your behind. 

“Now why you gotta go teasin’ like that Mama,” he growls relishing in the feel of your ass beneath his fingers. He wonders how hard he would need to squeeze to leave a couple marks down there. 

“‘M sorry daddy,” you mewl unconvincingly, lowering yourself to kiss him, something you’re no longer scared to initiate. A sharp slap on your ass has you realizing he meant business right now. But still you wait for him to tell you what to do. 

He’s taught you well.

“Well now you gotta fix it Sweetheart,” he purrs, and you shudder as his thumbs glide up your inner thighs, . “Can’t have your daddy goin’ out there lookin’ like this now can we?”

You shake your head no and the desire to just bend you over and take you like an animal grew but he wanted you to finish what you started. Granted you may not have started this specifically this morning but there ain’t no getting around the fact that this all started with you. 

He bites his lip to really focus on you in that moment; that little contented sigh that would fall from your lips feeling the fat head of his cock brush up against your eager clit, before turning into a lazy smile, as you slowly but surely guide him to that place he loves so much. That filthy moan that falls from your lips as he finally begins the descent into your entrance, before it turns into a needy little whine as he slowly retracts his hips and before he suddenly slams them back into you full force. 

That little wiggle your ass does as you give a breathy “daddy” is all the encouragement he needs before he presses upward. One hand threads through his own right on your hip, while the other . The whiny little noises you make each time he even nudges that precious little spot you bashfully admitted only he was ever able to reach. 

The material of your nightie by now has fully slipped off your shoulders, now leaving it only as a useless ring of fabric around your waist. You don’t seem to mind a single bit as you eagerly bounce up and down his cock, your gorgeous tits on full display and, to his chagrin, offensively clear of any bruises. In fact a quick once over of your body shows that the marks he’s left on you before were already healing up. 

He’s really gotta do something about that soon. Afterall for as smart as you can be, you’re often liable to forgetting who you belong to. 

But for as tempting as your nipples can be, he actively has to stave off his own desires, just to fully appreciate the image before him. That of the good doctor fucking herself stupid on his cock as she shamelessly licks her own juices right off his fingers, and begs for more from her daddy while the early morning rays give an almost angelic appearance. But that image of purity is swiftly done away with as he reaches around you and with his still wet fingers he lightly presses on that tight ring of muscle you’re far too demure to ever ask him about but he knew you loved when he did this. And with tears in your eyes and unrestrained cries flying from your lips, you seemingly fall apart and your walls clamp down on him like a vice.

Truly there ain’t ever gonna be a more perfect woman, he thinks as feels euphoria rocket through him and he proceeds to paint your inner walls white. Your hips stutter as you try to catch your breath, still quivering through some aftershocks, and you try to catch yourself on your hand from fully collapsing into him. Well he ain’t having none of that, and he wraps his arms around you to bring you as close as possible to him, never wanting to let you go.

Though the absolute best part for him is that you no longer get that left over guilty look afterward. The shy act was cute the first few months but as time went on it lost its appeal and he wished you would stop treating him like something you had to feel ashamed of. But now when you open your eyes to look at him all he sees are equal parts adoration and hunger. And it’s all for him.

Thanks to you he’s gotten far better in terms of communicating what he wants from people and it’s probably the worst kept secret in all of Graceland how much he wants and needs you at any given moment. You're able to ignite him in ways no girl has ever been able to do, and he doubts there will ever be another like you.

Though he thinks he most especially loves mornings like these because it’s all the proof he needs that that old job of yours wasn’t worth all the trouble it was causing in your head. After all, how can anything that doesn’t hurt no one and makes you feel this good be bad?

He ain’t one to talk though, he remembers those early months when he did try to fight off his feelings for you.

It’s wild to think he ever had doubts about therapy. Dr. Wilson was fine so far in that he was able to help him through his addiction without making him feel awful about it while also helping him realize that there was a lot more going on in his need for the drugs that he wasn’t even aware of. He was always able to remain coolly neutral no matter what ever fucked up thing the rockstar had told him. Elvis got the sense that he had been at this so long and with so many different celebrities that hardly anything phased him at this point. Which was good in a way, didn’t make him feel so outta place there but it also felt so…impersonal. As though the person that came right before him or right after him would get the same advice and insights as he did. 

Overall he was fine in terms of easing him into therapy and being able to express his thoughts and feelings with someone without having to be afraid of being judged. But he will admit that Wilson did do right by him by recommending you in the first place. 

He still remembers that day, there was an odd sense of euphoria to not only have a name for what he had but also that there were specialists who could handle this sort of thing professionally. But at the same time it clashed with his hope of his life going back to the way it was any time soon.

“Co-dependency is a relatively new term within the psychology community, so there aren’t many who are equipped to handle this condition.” Wilson says, eyes firmly on his notes. “But you’re in luck as I believe there is a specialist located in the Memphis area last I checked.”

“Doc, you sure I even need this?” he would question, as he fidgeted with the sleeve of his robe, the material having become a tad bit scratchier than when he had arrived. “I mean I don’t, even get cravin’s for them pills no more.” 

“Yes Elvis, we’ve treated the more overt and life-threatening symptoms of your addiction, but we’ve yet to truly tap into the underlying cause. Without doing that you would be liable to fall right back into old habits all over again. Maybe not with the pills, but some other vice.” he says calmly. “It’s why we enforce rules as to moderation within the facility as oftentimes getting rid of one addiction will lead to seeking solace in another. You’ve done better than most in abstaining from the more overt addictions and in order to keep up with this, I think it would be best if you continue treatment with Dr. Y/L/N.”

Elvis has a long sigh at this but he does genuinely want to get better, yet he still holds doubt as to whether more of this is necessary. He thinks at best you will be able to show him what to look out for in people that could take advantage of him again and you could go your separate ways after a few sessions. After all he did at least want to show Priscilla that he was actually making an effort to get better, and what better way than to keep going to therapy. 

He hesitated a bit during that first call, when he found out you were a woman. He knows it’s a whole new era and women can work outside the home if they want and all that, but he still wasn’t too sure about it. And he ain’t never met a woman who called herself a doctor, so there was that. 

But he also knew himself well enough to know that any excuse he could get to get out of going he would take, and having to drive all the way from Memphis to Nashville was a pretty good one. Besides women are naturally good with talking and feelings and shit, so it kinda makes sense in a way to see a woman about this kind of stuff. So it was worth a shot. 

That all changed when he met you in person for the first time. What he almost immediately noticed about you was how warm your eyes were. Not necessarily in color, but how you looked genuinely happy to see him. And not just in the way he’s used to from women who want him, but more… something he can’t quite put his finger on. But when you looked at him for the first time he felt as though he was being seen as Elvis, not just as The Elvis Presely. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Presley, it’s nice to meet you.” You said to him with a friendly smile on your face and a firm handshake.

“Same here, Dr. Y/L/N,” he would say, as all of his doubts seemed to melt away. You were beautiful in a way he wasn’t used to, all professional and button-upped like a secretary yet also comforting and very approachable like a librarian. It was an odd combination no doubt but you pulled it off well. 

There’s something about you that just puts his mind at ease, not only as you talk but as you listen. He felt like he was being heard instead of just listened to, which isn’t something he ever realized was lacking in his life. When you sat there you looked as though you could listen to him talk for hours, not the slightest bit of impatience to be seen. And the way you looked at him as he talked, as much as you may have been trying to hide it, he saw that you felt what he felt when talking about these things, his joy in performing, his sadness over the state of his family, his anger at Colonel. 

That was another thing, the little tidbits of advice you gave, that in retrospect seem so obvious, but hearing it from you that Parker didn't have any control over him anymore and he didn’t have to call him something that made it look like that. It’s hard to believe you're younger than him and yet so much wiser.

There was one thing you said to him toward the end of that first session and you were talking about his goals overall. 

“There’s a lotta things I want Doc,” he says. “I want my family back. I want to get back with ‘Cilla. I want to get back into music and perform again. I… want to know what to look out for so I don’t make the same mistake again.”

That last one apparently peaks your interest, as you say with a gentle smile on your lips, “Mr. Presley, many people when they walk into my office expect to be given answers as to their conditions or the issues ongoing in their lives. But the reality is that I don’t have the answers but what I can do is act as a guide so that you may be able to find what you may be looking for in a healthy and effective manner.” 

”I-I think I see what you’re sayin’ Doc,” he says. “A-and you can call me Elvis,” he states, ifa bit shyer this time around.

“Of course Elvis,” you say with a smile radiating warmth. “Now, as we’re getting towards the end of our session, I would like to express my goals for you.” 

He’s very curious as to what you have to say, so he leans forward eager to listen.

“Elvis, contrary to what it may sound like, my goal is not to espouse total self-reliance and to never trust anyone again. Nor is it for you to simply find ‘better’ people to rely on totally,” you say. “My goal for you, as it is for all of my patients, is to trust yourself most of all to know what’s best for you. Good or bad, regardless of another's opinions, these are your choices to make.” 

Those are simple words but they have a monumental impact on his perspective of things. And for the first time in a long time he looks at you and sees someone he can trust to do right by him. 

And now the first thing he’s gonna trust himself about, it’s that you’re gonna be good for him overall.

It was a bit difficult to get into the whole routine of seeing you, especially as he didn’t want certain people in his circle knowing that he was even still going to therapy. Not even necessarily because he feared it would somehow get back to the papers but because most of them were all under the same belief that therapy was just a crock of shit and all he needed to do was man up. So he just simply didn’t bring it up to them specifically and let only a few people really know what he was doing. And only they know just so they can sufficiently cover his ass when he’s out with you. 

None of them seemed to mind his scheduled “alone times” too much since he always came back and nothing newsworthy would happen so they let him be. 

Over the next few weeks he found himself looking forward to sessions with you. He’s taking his health seriously, he’s getting to see Lisa more and more, he’s sleeping better, everything in his life is slowly but surely improving thanks to you. Though the better sleep had its flaws as he had been having some weird dreams for awhile. Not so much nightmares, but they definitely left him with some odd feelings in the morning. 

They almost always started off the same way, he was back on that couch in Dr. Wilson’s office and the way he was being spoken to, it felt less like therapy and more like an interrogation. He would never remember what he was being asked, but the longer it went on the worse he would feel. 

And then you walk into the office and Wilson disappears. In the beginning you would simply take Wilson’s seat, and he feels himself start to relax. Something about you just made it easy to do so. You could even be asking the same questions Wilson was asking, but you’re far gentler in your delivery, and it helps ease the answers out.

A lot of his dreams have been going this way but recently you’ve been getting closer and closer, and now you sit beside him on the sofa. You would rub his back, play with his hair and even sometimes hold his hand all the while listening to what he had to say. Which then progressed to him even laying his head in your lap.

He vividly remembers how he would nuzzle into your chest as you continuously ran your nails through his hair. Neither of you speak but he can’t recall ever feeling so at peace than in those imaginary moments with you. 

Of course there were also less than wholesome dreams where he the ones where you ride him right into the couch or he takes you on your desk. Though arguably the most memorable had to be when he rested his head on your lap as he’d done in his dreams a million times before and you would slowly unbutton your blouse. 

Undoubtedly one of the most fucked up things he’s ever dreamt as you proceeded to jerk him off as he sucked on those gorgeous tits of yours. But still he couldn’t get out of his head that look of utter adoration in your eyes as you threaded your fingers in his hair and whispered how he was a good boy.

He woke up that morning needing to literally peel his pants off of him. 

He’s not an idiot. He has a daughter and so he knows what that could only look like from the outside. He has a pretty good idea what it may mean, seeing you in such a motherly role, but he’s also seen Psycho and knows he’s far from dressing up as his Mama to stab women in the shower. So really it doesn’t mean anything.

“Doc?” he asks, and you look up from your notes. He knows he should probably bring up the dreams, as you’ll definitely have something to say about it. But seeing you in that Turtleneck that made your tits look phenomenal made his brain short circuit a bit, and he worries even hinting at anything like this may scare you off and have you believing he’s a Norman Bates type. So instead he asks, “Why don’t you got one a them couches?”

Your brow furrows at that. “A… fainting couch?” You ask tentatively.

“That’s the one,” he snaps his fingers. “Why don’tcha got one of those?”

“Oh, well…” you say, pausing to bite your lip, looking for the right words. This simple act causes him to swallow hard, and he prays you don’t notice as you continue. “Given the patients I work with, I find that keeping us on the same level is far more beneficial than the alternative. It acts as a good reminder that we’re equals in this environment,” you explain with a gentle smile.

“Same level huh?” he questions. “So if I sat down on the floor you would follow?”

“If that’s where you feel most comfortable,” you say amused.

He doesn’t exactly know why, but part of his brain took that as a challenge, while the other part wanted to really test as to whether or not you would follow through. In either case he gets off his chair only to lie flat on his back on the shag carpet of your office. He looks back up and sees you raise an eyebrow at his antics, with a look of “seriously?” on your face. There is a bit of a stare down before you let out a small defeated sigh before you make motions to follow suit. 

“Don’t say I’m not a woman of my word,” you would explain as you lay down on the floor parallel to him, though the table kept a good distance between the two of you. Not an easy feat for you considering you were wearing a skirt that day, but in spite of that you were somehow able to make the act look as dignified as possible. Though that doesn’t prevent a brief but very dangerous image of you hiking up your skirt and taking a seat over his face. 

Woah… Where did that come from? he would ask himself as he ripped his eyes away from you and looked up at the ceiling. 

“Comfortable?” Both real and fantasy you would question. 

“Very,” he would answer, lying only slightly.

You give a mirthful smile before you get right back to business. “Now that we’re down here, I would like to discuss some of your risk-taking behavior upon your return from Germany,” 

“I wouldn’t say layin’ down on the floor is risky,” he quips. He’s trying hard to not focus on the gap that’s appeared between the buttons of your shirt nor the way that your notebook keeps your skirt from sliding down further. But at the same time focusing on your face right now feels dangerous for some reason he can’t quite place.

Something blooms in his chest when he hears you huff in amusement at him. “I’ll admit not my most graceful of transitions, but my point still stands. When you look back on your time after your return stateside, do you believe you were doing things that were considered far more risky?”

“I mean… I guess,” he would admit. “Aside from the drugs, nothin’ too wild, really. Just pushin’ each other down… and drivin’ around real fast… and shootin’ fireworks at each other… I see what your sayin’.” It’s funny that he only now realizes just by talking to you about them. 

“And nobody ever protested to you doing these things?” 

“Well my daddy did at first, but then stopped once he figured I wouldn’t stop. Most times it was The Colo-shit! Parker… he was the one who always made big stink ‘bout what I was doin’ if it was dangerous or made me look bad.” 

You bring your pen to your mouth, simply resting it on your lips, mulling over his words before you say, “Elvis correct me if I’m wrong, but it sounds to me that Parker occupied a very… parental role in your life?”

“I guess,” he says, unsure of it until a long dormant memory comes barreling to mind as he recalls his own words to that man from what felt a lifetime ago. “I even said as much to him at my own Mama’s funeral.” He says covering his eyes, and taking a deep breath, willing no tears to fall right in front of you. “I feel like such a fool.”

And then he feels something on his palm. He looks to his side to see that your hand now holds his. It’s such a simple gesture, one that anybody could have done, but coming from you it feels like everything.

“Elvis…” you start off slowly, your thumb rubbing soothing lines onto the back of his hand. “Grief is a terrible thing to experience. It can knock out your knees and snatch the breath right out of your lungs. And it’s certainly not uncommon for people like that to take advantage of those in such a vulnerable position.” you say in your most soothing voice. 

“Don’t think less of yourself for staying as long as you did. Instead I ask you to think of it as you left when you were ready to do so.”

He has to pause to contemplate your words for a second there, because it’s such a simple twist of perspective but it seems to make all the difference as he feels a long present weight of guilt lift. “Yeah… yeah you’re right,” he says, his chest filling with a sense of warmth he hadn’t realized he’s been missing for a while now. “I-I took all of the rat bastards shit for years, because I could take it… a-and I left when I didn’t want to do that no more.” 

“Exactly,” you say, slipping out of his grasp and giving a friendly pat on his hands as you return to your side of the table. 

The rest of the session is pretty light, all things considered, talking about Music, something he can do at literally any given moment and he left your office that day with a newfound appreciation for women’s office wear. He gets the sense that it’s very intentional on your part. The way you can steer a conversation is so fucking impressive and it served you well when you were dodging something.

But he eventually learned your ways. And he was able to get you to open up about yourself like when you learned his favorite hero growing up was Captain Marvel Jr. and you confided in him your favorite was Wonder Woman, and how you learned to appreciate her even more when you learned she was created by a Psychologist. Or when he told you about his sleep troubles and you taught him your trick to falling asleep was to eat Pancakes, something that came as a bit of a routine from your waitressing days since that was your usual order at the end of your shift. Little things that made you more than just his shrink to him. 

He swears he didn’t realize what he was doing at first, and it wasn’t until Jerry pointed it out to him that same night. He and the rest were at some show that he doesn’t really remember, and he sees you walk past the table he was at. He’s so caught off guard that he even turns his head fully around as you walk away.

Jerry knows about his therapy and tends to cover for him when he goes to see you, but has never actually met you, so it surprised him when Jerry asked if he wanted him to go get you for him. 

He’s glad for the low lighting of this place as he doubts he would otherwise be able to hide his inflamed face right now. “What? No… No. Wh-why’d ya’ think I want her?”

“Well she’s your type ain’t she?” he asks, glancing at the bar behind Elvis’ shoulder where you’re standing. Elvis is trying hard not to look back because the dress you’re wearing is far more revealing than he’s ever seen you wear, and he doubts if he keeps looking he’ll be able to stop, still that question eats at him. 

“The hell are you on Jer?” 

“EP, you’re a lot a things,” Jerry says as he gets up, patting him on the back. “Subtle ain’t one a them.” 

He knows one more word and Jerry will stop and not approach you, but something stops him from doing so. He figures you’re going to say no anyway, as you made it clear in your first session that you were never going to approach a patient in public, and that’ll be the end of that. Still the thought of you saying no does leave a sour taste in his mouth that the whiskey can’t quite chase away. He steals a glance over his shoulder and with the better lighting at the bar he realizes that that girl ain’t you. Her nose is a different shape, hair color is not quite right in the new light, and this girl doesn’t have quite the same dignified posture that you’ve got.

He shakes his head at these thoughts. It’s ridiculous that he even thought that was you for even a second. You work everyday and he doubts this would be your scene on a Thursday night. He imagines you would be in bed by now or at least settling by this time. You have the look of a good girl who reads at night to fall asleep and he can just about picture the way you would look lounging against a headboard that looks suspiciously familiar. This line of thought leads to him idly wondering what you wear to bed at night, which is quickly broken when Jerry approaches with the girl. 

The girl has a face-splitting grin and in her eyes, he finds that star-struck look he’s seen in hundreds of other women's eyes before her. Despite her eyes being similar in color he can’t help but be reminded of the stark difference in your eyes when he met you for the first time. She’s seeing a god where you saw a man.

Still he tries to give the girl, Jackie, a fair shake, but the longer the night goes on the more he has to pick apart. Her voice is a little too high-pitched to be yours. Her make-up, not as pristine as yours usually is. Even her nails seem to annoy him as they are a little longer than how you usually keep them, and they only really drew his attention while she was drumming them along the table as he spoke. The girl is practically shaking in her seat, itching to get out of here with him. 

Well at least this one knows what she wants, he thinks to himself as he asks if she would mind a more quiet place to talk. 

It’s wrong on so many levels what he’s doing, and he recognizes that as he puts his arm around her shoulders and leads her out of the place. Jane gushes about how big of a fan she’s been since she was a kid and how this is a dream come true. All Elvis could really focus on is if he squints just hard enough he can almost see you saying that to him, and that’s just enough to get him going, as he buries his face into the girl's neck, and he hears sweet moans he wishes came from you. 

Jenna was gone come morning, and Elvis is glad for that small mercy. And in the early morning rays, Elvis is left alone with his thoughts, and he gets to truly think about the women he’s been with recently. He thinks of Shannon who drew his eye when he got a whiff of her perfume, and it happened to be the same one he knows you’ve worn before, and he would bury his face in her neck as he pounded into her. Amy whose hair was almost the exact same color as yours and whom he really only liked taking from the behind without truly looking at her face. Carol whose voice sounded eerily close to yours and in the dark he was able to imagine someone else entirely as she moaned his name over and over again. And finally there was Jamie who was almost the spitting image of you save for a few things here and there.

It’s nothing, he tries to lie to himself. 

It doesn’t matter.

They don’t matter. 

They shouldn’t matter really, they were all gone before the morning came, so obviously none of them weren’t interested in anything serious. Which is good…

…Right?

It fucks with his head something fierce, that he ends up bringing it up the next time he sees you. “I think I lost my way with women.” he would say as soon as he sat down, before you even got a chance to crack open your little notebook. 

You quickly put the pen between your lips, in that cute way he likes, to hold while you open your notebook, and ask “in what regard Elvis?” This has got to be a sign as to how comfortable he’s gotten with you. He would never have dared to talk about something like this with anyone else, not so much because he feared that he would be laughed at, but because more than likely he would be plastered with denials and reassurances as to how much of a ladies man he still is, without ever even getting into detail why he felt like that. 

Still he finds himself clamming up, wishing to take the words back, shame burning in his belly over these thoughts. You were having none of it, as you put down your notebook and pen on the table between the two of you and lean forward. “Elvis you can talk about this with me,” you coax in your softest voice, something he’s come to expect look forward to. 

He smiles at this as he’s come to appreciate this about you. You get right to work and listen as he expresses his fears about his romantic life. You’re a great listener, though he supposes that comes with the job, but in the way you move and watch him, he never doubts that you are. You’re always watching him, you rarely if ever glance at the clock, and nothing about your body language ever says that you’re getting tired of hearing him talk. Even Wilson had that annoying leg bounce thing toward the end of sessions with him. 

The only thing he could really complain about was how often you touched your lips while listening. Whether it was simply resting a fist to your mouth or pinching your bottom lip, you’re almost always doing something of the like when you’re concentrating he’s noticed. He doubts you’re doing it on purpose, but he still finds it very distracting. That being said he was never about to tell you to stop. 

“Elvis as I understand this dilemma you’re having,” you say. “You’re worried that the only type of women you attract these days are women who are not seeking long-term relationships.” 

“I don’t know Doc, it might be nothin’,” he says, still trying to downplay how uncomfortable the concept makes him. “

“If it bothers you Elvis, then it’s not nothing,” you gently encourage. “People thrive on connections to one another, and I’m glad to see that you’re taking steps to establish new connections after all that you’ve faced before. Perhaps these women aren’t all opposed to a romantic relationship, but they may perhaps be under the impression that you are, given your fame.” 

“So my reputations workin’ against me on this,” he asks solemnly. 

“In a sense, yes. Reputation is a bit of a funny thing like that,” you say. “It’s not so much your actions that make it up, but other’s perceptions of said actions. And if you feel you’re ready to embark on a new long-term relationship, then I would encourage you to start on a solid foundation of honesty.”

“What do you mean? Tell them I’m lookin’ to get married again?”

This gets a small huff of laughter out of you, “Perhaps not that strong in the beginning,” you say. “But something along the lines of… ‘when can we meet up again?’ just a little something like that to establish that you are at the very least interested in a long-term relationship.”

“Doc, would you wanna be with me,” he says, and he would be lying if he says he didn’t enjoy the way your eyes practically bugged out of your head before he recovered with a “or someone with a reputation like me?”

You try to pass off your sigh of relief as simply a deep breath before you answer with, “I personally try not to let others' perceptions of potential partners affect my own feelings toward them. And I reassure you that there are others of the same mind and should you signal that you want something more… permanent, you’ll find someone.” you say with a reassuring smile on your face. “While we’re still on this topic as to your romantic life…” you trail off slightly. “You stated one of your goals in therapy was to rekindle your relationship with your Ex-Wife. Is she the one you’re talking about trying to have a relationship with?”

“... no,” he sighs, as he eyes you sitting directly across from him. “I-I love her and all but… I-I don’t know if I want her in the same way I did before. And… I-I think I want someone else.” He thinks this is the first time he’s been able to say this out loud, but it admittedly does feel like a weight lifted off his shoulders as he admits to it. You give a soft, reassuring smile at his words, and while he knows that it’s probably because you’re happy to see him moving forward with his life, a small part of him wants to believe it’s because you want him to be available.

“I understand, Elvis,” you reassure him. “And rest assured that should you at any point choose otherwise you’re, of course, free to do so.”

He leaves later on reassured in his worth as a partner, but the thought that you had been approached by men before leaves an otherwise good meeting with a sour note. That’s the first time he realizes that you have a life outside of your office and somehow worse, you have other patients you talk to. It’s like seeing a teacher at a grocery store and realizing they don’t live at school.

He knows it ain’t right to feel this way, that you’re a person too, who has more to offer than just what you do for your job. But he can’t help the way he feels. Saddest part is the person he would go to talk about these feelings with is the person he has to talk about. 

And so rather than actually dealing with it, head on he tried to satisfy these feelings for you in other ways, but he promised himself he would never act on them. 

At least… not yet.

It was working for a time, he would see you twice a week, he would bear his soul to you alone, and slowly but surely you also opened up to him as well. There were small comments here and there about simple preferences which eventually gave way to you talking a bit about your time and school and your friends, and to his relief you never brought up any sort of boyfriend. But outside of your office he accepted that he did in fact have a “type” and most of his boys made it their mission to find girls that look even a little bit like you. 

And yet the more he saw you, the more he fell for you. 

After the wine incident he knew he couldn’t deny himself what he wanted anymore and he gradually started to lay the groundwork in order to make that happen. 

When he would casually slip in pet names for you, kiss the back of your hand, or even when he would linger a little too long after a session you never said anything about it. And he always took that as an opportunity to go further and further each time. 

He even started reading up on Psychology, and to his surprise some of it was down right fascinating, especially learning how it stems from Physiology meeting Philosophy. Sure the dog studies and the Milgram experiment ended up being very useful to him later on, but he does believe Freud was onto something there. But he can’t wrap his head around why you tend to get very skittish when you do on occasion bring up his Mama.

He likes to think she would’ve liked you very much for how smart and responsible you are. She maybe wouldn’t have loved the whole working outside of home thing, but he eventually fixed that. 

The same way he taught himself to play music was the same way  he got you to fall in love with him: laser-sharp focus and unwavering persistence.

But then you had to go and almost throw that all away. You spat in the face of his gift and tried to reprimand him for doing a nice thing for you. So he had to play it cool for a while after that. You seemed to retreat a bit from him, but you were no less warm and caring for him. You even stopped really remarking when he would “accidentally” bump into you when you’re out and about. 

But no dice the next time he tried. It was only as Jerry returned with a guilty look on his face did he realize his mistake in A. sending someone else and B. not framing it as a part of his therapy, which he knows you wouldn’t have refused. 

“EP…” Jerry says lightly. “Y-your shrink…”

“What ‘bout her Jerry,” Elvis asks in no mood after your refusal.  

“I-I noticed that she-she kinda looks like some a the girls you been seein’,” he swallows a bit. Seemingly praying to god he’s wrong about this.

“No,” the rockstar says simply, not really caring to beat around the bush anymore, and Jerry seems almost relieved until he continues. “They look like her,” and for as callous as it sounds he can’t even muster an ounce of sympathy for them, as though it’s their fault that they’re not you. But the reality is, none of them could hold a candle to you, and they only matter so far in preventing him from getting too frustrated with how slow you're taking things. 

“Elvis… I-I don’t think it-it’s such a good idea to get so… involved with your doctor again,” Jerry would say tentatively, unsure how he would react. 

“Jerry,” he says, trying to control his temper, and remembering those breathing exercises you went over with him. “I think my business is my business.”

“I-I know but-”

“But nothin’ Jerry!” he yells. “Y’all had fuck all to say when I was runnin’ myself in the grave! And now that I’m gettin back on track, now you wanna step in?!” Jerry gaped at him, before quickly shutting his mouth, a guilty look taking over his face as he looked down at the ground, having nothing to say. “Get the fuck outta my face Jerry.”

Jerry and the rest that knew about you since the beginning would eventually come around on you, seeing hat you did for him and how much he needed you. It served him all the better later on. Though now that all feels like ancient history now, especially now that you’re together in private, in public, and pretty soon under the eyes of the lord.

As far as you know Elvis didn’t want to acknowledge the “blackmail” and simply announced your engagement. He didn’t even want to acknowledge Parker, as that would imply there’s anything wrong with your relationship that he could have exploited.

The way he tells the story is that a couple months after rehab, he was out and about in Memphis when you caught his eye from across the room. He described it as nothing short of love at first sight, but the problem was he had no idea how to approach a woman as sophisticated as you. It was made all the worse when he did approach and you introduced yourself as Dr. Y/L/N, you weren’t so awestruck by him, and in fact talked to him like a normal person. He was so caught off guard that when you had revealed that you were a therapist he jumped at the chance and said he had been looking for one in the area after rehab and you had given him your business card.

How the next few months were about how you became his therapist, and how he was more or less scheming to sweep you off your feet the moment he could. How you tried your best to keep things professional until you could no longer deny your feelings nor could he deny his. None of which was a lie, but he did have to clean up the story for the reporters (didn’t stop Penthouse from begging for the dirtier details).

The story was simple, almost the ideal story of the recovery of a troubled man and how it was the love of a good woman that helped him heal from all of it (Say what you will, he knows you’ve loved him longer than you’re willing to admit). And the people ate it up. 

Everybody could see how good you were for him, how he’s back and better than ever because of your efforts. 

He wishes you wouldn’t focus so much on the others who want to make this out as a bad thing for either of you. They don’t know you and they especially don't know him, so how can they judge what either of you do. That board of therapists may say that the two of you being together is wrong, and for a time you may even have believed that but he knows in his heart of hearts that this was meant to be. 

Afterall you yourself showed him how other people’s perceptions of you shouldn’t affect your own perception of yourself. 

As far as days in Graceland it’s a pretty typical and quiet one, Mary makes the two of you breakfast, you both practice tai chi while it’s still early, you sit with him at the piano as he worked on music, and later he would bend you over the piano so you could make some music for him, you have lunch. It’s looking to be a perfect day. 

You’re never too far from him anymore but he doesn’t think he’ll ever have enough of you. He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Sometime after lunch, Jerry comes around with those books you ordered. As much as you tried to hide it at first, he could see you were excited for the world tour. Studying up on the history of practically every city he was going to be performing in, trying to learn a couple languages, sharing almost everything with him. 

You look so in your element when you’re reading, and he can’t help but intrude and make his dreams into a reality. You're startled at first as he rests his head in your lap, but you quickly adjust and ease into the new position.

He’s close to purring with the way you run your nails along his scalp, so familiar and comforting a gesture that it’s not long before his eyelids go heavy and he finds himself drifting off to sleep with a smile on his face. 

With you around, sleep is coming easier and easier these days. You worry about this, fearing that he would become too dependent on you for sleep. 

He can’t help it that you’re such a dependable person. 

He would wake up later, only the slightest bit distressed that you were gone, but he knows that you wouldn’t have gone too far. And he didn’t have to look too hard to find you, as you stepped out of your dressing room, and sees you wearing something very familiar.

He doesn’t think he'll ever forget that night.

He thought at the time that nothing could happen between you two. He had accepted that at first, tried to content himself to having you in his life in whatever way he could, even if only platonically. He admits he may have stalled some days, especially the sessions after you would remark how far he’s come in therapy, all in order to drag out his time with you. 

It truly felt like the stars had aligned for the both of you that night. He wasn’t really one for fancy places like this, any other day he would have taken a cheap little diner, but he had been craving a real good steak for a while and figured some fancy place like this would be his best bet. Imagine his surprise when he just idly glanced down at the reservation book and saw your name.

He had been hoping to build something between the two of you outside of your office for a while by that point, but that day you just so happened to have ended up at the same restaurant as him. This just solidified in his head that the two of you were meant to be, because it couldn’t be just a coincidence that the two of you ended up at the same place that night. He gathered up the nerve to approach you that night, thinking about what you said as to how you would like to be approached by a man, ready to put himself out there. 

His breath hitches as he sees the little white dress you’re wearing and his palms sweat a bit when he approaches. Overall he feels like a kid trying to ask the prettiest girl for a dance, terrifying yet exhilarating all the same.

“Dr. Y/L/N, funny meeting you here,” Elvis would say in his best attempt to sound casual. 

“Mr. Presley, how are you?” you would say, surprise evident in your eyes but the small smile on your face genuine as any. 

“I’m doin’ just fine.” 

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad.”

“Are you here alone?” he gently probes, trying to figure out a way to get the rest to leave the table if he can get you to join him. 

“No, my date is just in the restroom.” you say pointing in the general direction of the bathroom.

Something almost akin to betrayal flashes through him in that moment, but he quickly tries to stamp it down as even he realizes that he had no right to feel that way. “Well, have a good night.” he says, trying to be as amiable as possible. 

“You too,” you say with an uneasy look in your eyes. 

Gorgeous girl like her, it’d be crazy for her not to have a date, he thinks, sitting back down with his buddies. Not a single one of them acknowledges what just happened and somehow it feels all the worse. Still it doesn’t sit right with him, the idea of you being out of your office and looking so beautiful and only to waste it on some undeserving mook. 

But… in all the months he’s been seeing you, he ain’t ever seen a ring on your finger, so he doubts it’s that serious. He can’t see your table, which he’s thankful for, because it at least removes the temptation to keep looking your way. But with how sparsely populated the restaurant is at this point he can just barely make out your voice, and he can clearly hear your laugh. It’s such a beautiful thing to hear, and it takes him fully out of the conversation he’s having with Sonny, which pretty much makes all of them take notice of how weird he’s acting but they won’t say anything about it. 

But quickly bitterness takes over in his mouth when he hears the accompanying chuckle from your faceless companion. Especially when he’s only ever awarded small huffs of amusement in your office while that motherfucker can get you to laugh like that.

… He really shouldn’t be thinking like this… 

It practically spits in the face of all you’ve been doing for him to go back to his old jealous ways. He drinks some of the wine to calm himself down and earnestly tries to go back to the talk he was having. 

He does try, but by the third glass in, he becomes a bit distracted by the wine. He’s not usually much of a fan of the stuff, but even he can appreciate a good bottle when he has it. Not too sweet but just enough to mask the burn of alcohol, while pairing well with his steak.

All he’s really thinking at that moment is how much you would probably appreciate it too. So he flags down the stuffy waiter and insists that a similar bottle be brought to your table, on him of course. 

He doesn’t really think too much of it, and later as Charlie’s doing his best impression of Parker to a host of hoots and hollers from the rest, does the waiter return. “Your friends send their thanks for the wine,” he says simply walking away. 

So you took it… he finds it very interesting. 

If there was nothing there, you could have said no and he would’ve put it behind him. But you accepted the wine… there had to be something more to it. Especially since you were on a “date” with another man, and what woman accepts a drink from another man if she wasn’t at the very least interested. 

As he leaves, there is a part of him that aches leaving you behind, especially with another man, and the only solace he takes is that you accepting that bottle of wine had to mean something. 

His home feels achingly empty as he walks in, even as he’s surrounded by his buddies. He’s trying to follow your advice with the whole set sleep schedule thing so it’s only midnight by the time he walks through his front door. 

Even if come Monday you flat out reject him, he tries to content himself to have you just be his therapist. How maybe even after you graduate him out you can still continue being friends outside of your office and he won’t have to lose you as well.

Still all of that rings hollow that night as he recalls furiously jerking himself off in his bed, tears streaming down his face and your name on his lips, as he thought of you in that dress. What’s worse is that the fantasy he has of you is not even necessarily erotic, and by most standards, it’s practically mundane. But it’s precisely because of how normal it is that it feels so foreign yet nonetheless attractive to him, and thus far more dangerous than any wet dream he’s had of you before. 

He imagines bringing you to Graceland from the restaurant. How you would strip yourself of that dress, effortlessly seductive as you swap it for a nightie, and how you would get a little bashful as you notice him staring before crawling into bed beside him. But unlike other dreams he has of you, you simply lay back and allow him to bury his face in your chest. “What’s on your mind Elvis?” you would ask him. 

He can almost feel the scrape of your nails on his scalp, as you listen to his woes. The slight rise and fall of your chest as he rests his head on it. How all of your ministrations are comforting and relaxing rather than teasing or playful, like your content to simply sit and be with him alone rather than doing anything else. Like you’re there for him, not for Elvis Presley.

He wanted that. He wanted you. 

And now he has you.

And nothing will ever take you away.

“Mmm, I remember this,” he hums to you while wrapping his arms around your waist as you put the finishing touches to your face. You preen under his attention, and wriggle a little as his fingers brush the hem of your skirt, both of you practically itching for a repeat of that first concert. 

While in general he would have preferred you wore something he gave you, he has no doubt that the dress is not gonna survive the night once you get home. 

“Where you headin’ lookin’ this good?” he asks, trying not to sound too sore about it. 

You sigh as you put down your brush, squaring your shoulders as though you’re about to step into a battlefield. “Ma’s throwing me a Bridal shower remember,” you answer. 

Yeah he does remember, but he honestly wishes you hadn’t. Though he can hardly begrudge you for being less than ecstatic about your party, as he also doesn’t want you to go but for very different reasons. Try as he might, he couldn’t justify going with you, and just the idea of you being out of reach made his stomach uneasy. His only solace in the situation was that he was able to convince your Mama to not invite any of your old college girlfriends, as the last thing he needs is for any of them to be putting ideas in your head again. 

Besides, it marks the first time in awhile since he’s gotten all of his buddies together at once, so he’s determined to enjoy the night as much as he can without you. He thinks he’s had his fill of the bachelor life, so his party ain’t nothing too crazy all things considered. 

For as much as he did clean house once he booted Parker out, there were still those in his circle he could do without personally but still served their purposes well. 

He’s made it clear he won’t stand for any of them talking any kind of nonsense about you, but that doesn’t stop them from bemoaning the “life” he’s giving up all in order to get hitched yet again. The partying, the girls, the drugs he would give up ten times over for you. 

By midnight he’s even close to calling it for the night hoping that you’ll be home soon.

For as much as they rag on him for becoming so domesticated he’s well aware of the fact that they are nonetheless happy for your presence in his life. He knows that while some of them are genuinely glad that he’s now better for his own sake, he’s all too aware that some of them only “care” because their very livelihoods depend on him.

Not you though. What you gave up when you thought you were protecting him, you proved yourself to be far more caring and loyal than anyone he’s ever met. And he rests easier knowing you’re watching out for him, even at a great cost to yourself. 

It almost makes him feel guilty for what he had to do.

Almost.

And, as though summoned, you make your way through the front door. The second you walk in, he loses interest in just about everything else in the room. You look like you just got through twelve rounds with Muhammad Ali.

He already knows you don’t got the best relationship with your folks but understands you couldn’t get out of going without raising questions. But if it went bad it saves him the trouble from having to talk you out of visiting them too often. 

Truly it makes his heart soar the way you light up a bit upon seeing him and he hopes 

And then it goes to shit. 

He sees you lazily look around the room, probably trying to figure out a tactful way to get rid of them all. But then your brow furrows, and you give the entire room a once over again, and then you seem to look intently at every single person in the room as though you’re tallying them up. And once you finish that, it only seems to distress you more. 

You’ve got that same look in your eye when you’re reading your mysteries, with your brow furrowed and your hands to your lips. He’s confused as to what may be going on in that pretty little head of yours, until he looks around and remembers that ALL of his buddies are here now.

Something that shouldn’t be if he had really handled the ones that had apparently squealed the two of you out to Parker.

Huh… you figured it out just like that, he thinks. This is honestly what he gets for choosing a smart one like you, but he can't say he’s not a little proud that you were able to do so. Besides it’s not much of a choice when it’s meant to be. 

He takes one last puff off his cigar before stamping it out into the accompanying ashtray, after all no use in trying to pretend anymore. You're cracking a case wide open in your head and he figures there ain’t no point in drawing it out for much longer. 

“Hey Charlie,” he draws out, and your eyes snap back to him, apparently terrified to be proven right. 

“Yeah EP?” he answers, always the good friend who would go along with any plan regardless of how he personally felt about it if it meant getting him back on track. 

“Why don’tcha do that voice,” he says smiling a bit as his friends goes a bit ashen at the request. “Always gets a good laugh.”

Charlie thinks he’s subtle when he steals a glance your way. He is not. 

“You sure ‘bout that EP,” he asks, nervously swallowing, his eyes begging to not have to do this. Which gets the attention of all of them, and some of them shift uncomfortably at what’s about to go down, downing the last of their drinks and nervously gathering their things hoping to make a quick getaway. The ones who don’t know are looking at Charlie anticipating a good laugh but they quickly pick up on how worried he looks and quickly follow suit, figuring nothing good would come of this. 

Elvis only has eyes for you though, morbidly curious as to how you’re going to react, the same way your eyes are firmly fixed on him, no doubt fearing that you’re right. He almost calls it off at that point, but call it what you want he believes that once this secret is over and done with, the two of you will be all the stronger for it and there will be absolutely nothing to hold you back.  

“Who am I talkin’ to?” Elvis asks Charlie all the while making full eye contact with you. Contrary to what you may believe he doesn’t in fact enjoy hurting you with these hard truths, he’s just not as skilled as you in breaking them to you in a more delicate manner.

Charlie lets out a deep, tired sigh before, without any more preamble, he says, “You’re talking to the man that gave the world Elvis Presley,” in his most perfect Parker impression. 

Your face fully falls. 

Once upon a time you had told him how sometimes people need to be guided by another to get what they wanted. And he knows for a fact that you wanted him, it was only your damn job and it’s rules that held you back. That’s where his head was at after that fucking anniversary party.

You are the only woman alive who can proudly say she’s broken his heart not once, not twice, but three times. The first time being when you threatened to switch him to another therapist, but luckily he saw right through that ploy. 

The next time when you had the gall to lie to his face about where you were going. When you started speaking about Saturday, he could feel his heart flutter a bit, truly believing you were gonna invite him to meet your folks. Even now he could imagine how it would have felt to be offered such a thing, to be brought home and be introduced as your boyfriend proper. Even after you brought up your friends he could have dealed with that if only it would bring him much more into your life. Only for you to bring him back down to Earth with your refusal to bring him.

The last time was when you couldn’t say you loved him back. God was that a kick to the chest because he may not be the smartest man, but even he knew that it meant one of two things. Either you wanted to say it and you couldn’t for whatever reason… or you didn’t love him and you were just feeling particularly guilty about it that day. ‘

He couldn’t accept that though. Something in your life was preventing you from saying it back and really he knew there could only be one thing. Was it really so monstrous to remove it if it left you feeling like this?

You love him, he knows that you do and you only need a push in the right direction in order to admit it.  

And if you didn’t… he couldn’t afford to think like that. 

So he had to push through. Had to do what was necessary. Had to believe you love him. 

Had to believe he was still worth loving.

He knew words meant nothing at the end of the day (you taught him as much) he had to find a way to prove you did love him and that you weren’t in it for yourself. 

The only question was how.

After he sees you leave that place, looking devastated, it takes everything within him to not take you in his arms. But he has a goal in mind and he has to figure out where exactly you're at mentally in order to push through. 

For all he knows you’re on your way to pack up your office right now, but he has to be sure. 

Red tries to stop him before he gets out of the car, but ends up backing off, with a single glare his way. He waits for a bit before approaching the modest looking house after you had left, and knocks on the door, and once it opens he has to remind himself who he’s doing this for, and knock that fucker’s lights out. 

Even when he has never met them before, people weirdly enough have a lot of trust in him. And Mark Whatever his last name is, proves to be no different. Elvis greets him with his first name and a quick hug as though they were old friends and lets himself into the house as Mark still gapes at the doorway. 

He finds a den with two identical mugs on a coffee table, and he finds a very familiar lipstick color on one of them (how could he not there’s still a ring of it around his cock). Mark shuffles his way into the sitting room, absolutely struck dumb by Elvis' presence, and Elvis finds it hard to believe that he ever saw him as a rival for your love. 

Mark notices the mugs still on the coffee table and makes a motion to grab them, stammering out an apology about the mess. Before he could do so, Elvis notices the light color from your mug and hides a self satisfied smirk at that. Where once you only took your coffee black, your tastes have now become closer aligned to his own. 

Elvis puts a hand down on the mug as he says, “Why dontcha take a seat right down there Mark?” It’s kind of pathetic really seeing a man take orders from a stranger in his own house, but it serves Elvis’ purposes all the better. And with the way Mark awkwardly takes a seat it’s apparent that he is still flustered at Elvis’ presence in his den. 

Good, he thinks. Should keep him honest.

“Wh-what’s this about?” Mark asks, uneasily.

“It’s about our good friend, Y/N of course,” he says as though it were so obvious.

“O-Oh, uh, she was over here not too long ago,” he stammered out, before his brows furrowed even more confused. “How do you know her?” 

“Through her daddy,” Elvis lies coolly. “I don’t know if you noticed but she’s been a bit outta sorts recently. And I’m hopin’ you could help me figure out what’s been botherin’ her.”

“I-I don’t think it’s my place to say,” Mark sputters out.

“C’mon Matt,” he says, leaning forward just a little bit to really sell the concern. “You can talk to me ‘bout this,” echoing your own words from way back when. 

If he noticed the wrong name he didn’t say anything as he nervously looks down at his own hands, before muttering out a soft “she’s been having some trouble with a patient of hers.”

“Huh…” he says, raising his brows a bit at this. “She tell you who?”

“She would never tell me anything like that,” he quickly defends and Elvis relaxes a bit. “But ummm… she-she just needed some advice as to how to handle this patient. And I-I let her know that whatever consequences she imagines would happen, are not as bad as the reality. So it would be better to act now as opposed to later.”

“Hmmm…” he hums, and just like that he can already feel you slipping through his fingers. But he holds on to that look you had leaving. How distressed you looked at the idea of having to drop him all together, but he also knows you’re a tough one that can make the right decisions, even when they’re hard, and that’s why he loves you so. “Tell me Max, what would you do if you were in her situation?” he asks even though he already figures the answer.

“Personally… I would’ve dropped the patient a long time ago,” he says without any remorse. He says this next part so coldly that he finds it hard to imagine that you have ever had anything in common with him save for your chosen field. “Not just because it is the right thing to do, but because, for as little information as I have about the situation, this patient is simply not worth all the grief they’re causing her.” 

But it’s not me, Elvis wanted to defend. It’s her work, if it weren’t for that gettin’ in the way she wouldn’t have to be so goddamn worried all the time. 

“And did you tell her that?” Elvis asks, worried as to what may be brewing in that little head of yours if this son of a bitch has been whispering in your ear.

“God no,” the professor says. “I told her to do what she can live with. But I know her,” he says leaning back, sure in his opinion, though unaware that these words perhaps just saved his life. “She’s gonna make the right choice on her own or it won’t mean much.”

For all his degrees, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, is all Elvis can really think in that moment. He can’t possibly even begin to understand the kind of relationship you have with him, and how in fact he is the right choice for you, as you’re his. 

If a baby was about to walk into a pool, would he just let it happen because it was it’s choice? That’s downright evil in his book. Sometimes you need to make the decision for others and step in when they’re about to make the wrong ones. And if that’s what he has to do to for you then goddamnit he will. 

“Well, I think I best get going,” Elvis would say after contemplating this man's words. He knew how impressionable you can be, so he needs to act fast to undo whatever poison this asshole put in your head.

“O-oh of course,” he stutters. “Umm.. thank you for stopping by today.” 

“Now Mark, that fancy title you got, tells me you’re a smart man, right?” Elvis says a hand on his shoulder as he makes his way to the door. 

“...yes?” he answers tentatively.

“Now this story, I think it best you keep it to yourself.” he says, and he watches the man's brow furrowed in confusion. “Afterall I don’t think you wanna be known in your field for blabbin’ anything to anyone who just walks in your door.” 

“Of course not,” he says uneasily. “Thank you for your concern for Y/N, Elvis. Hopefully she’ll be back to normal soon.”

“Course,” Elvis would reply, holding out his hand for the professor, which Mark takes. “And please, call me Mr. Presley,” and on that confusing note he turns around and heads back to the car. 

He stews on that asshole’s words the whole way home, no one daring to talk about it until he did. He wants to trust 

But he knows if he lets this stand and doesn’t interfere, you’re going to make the wrong choice. Ultimately he decides to make the choice for you for your own good. He’s let chance rule his life for far too long, so he’s gotta make his own luck.

He cycles through just about everything he knows about you and tries to figure out how it could possibly help him.

And then he remembers how you once told him how your worst fear is seeing your patients fall back to their old ways, especially with those who abused them. 

Just the thought of going back to Parker makes him sick to his stomach. For as much as he loves you, he’s not willing to do anything that will bring that bastard back into the fold, and he doubts you would want that either. But he almost resolves himself to do it until he’s pulling into the driveway and sees Charlie’s car. 

And then he’s reminded that Charlie always did do a pretty spot on Parker impression. Especially if you ain’t ever heard that old toad talk before. And finally an awful plan began to form in his head.

It’s sneaky and underhanded, and it literally leaves a bad taste in his mouth that could only be chased away by that Wine. That sweet taste on his tongue reminds him of that first night in your office. He remembers how you cried so sweetly for him. How you pushed him away so overwhelmed with what you felt for him. How excited you got when he called you by your name. How you called him daddy for the first time. 

What he remembers most of all is how he had to apply some pressure to you in order to break through that tough professional wall you’ve set between the two of you. But it was worth that sweet sweet outcome. 

And if he gets the answer he wants from you, it would be worth it yet again. 

You wanted him to take charge then, and you want him to take charge now. 

So this is something he has to do and this is his cross to bear.

Ideally you never had to know. 

Once the call was over Charlie could hardly look him in the eye, and practically scrambles to get the hell out of there once given the signal. He feels a twinge of guilt and hopes that this be the last morally bad thing he asks of the man. But with the way you’ve been able to keep him on the straight and narrow since you’ve met him, he thinks it will be. 

Still he welcomes the solitude, knowing that this is undoubtedly going to be the worst minutes of his life, and the only one he could even fathom spending them with is the one he’s currently waiting on. He knows you well enough that you wouldn’t be one to sit on this for too long, so tonight he’s going to learn one of two things about you: either you tell him about “Parker” and try to help save him from the rat bastard… or you say yes to “Parker” and you prove yourself to be like the rest.  

He tries to chase that nasty feeling out of his head with the wine, and the sweet taste of it reminds him of that first night with you. How for all of your fighting and protesting you still gave in, how you kept coming back even as he knowingly put you through the wringer. How you would settle just as easily in his arms as he did in yours. 

If that ain't love, then I guess I don’t know what the hell is, he remembers thinking. You’re the last hope he has to believe that he can be loved for him, not for Elvis Presley. To love him through his fears, his hopes, his anxiousness, his temper, his jealousy, his dreams, all of it. 

And his faith in you is rewarded as you as his phone rings within minutes.

Where most people would blow up in a rage and scream and curse till their hoarse about something like this, you’re not like most people. No you’re far too composed to ever do that. Growing up in a house where your wants and feelings were second to everything will do that to you he guesses. 

You’re like that with everyone… except for him. You freely express all your thoughts and opinions with him, never afraid to give him the business when necessary but always honest in a way few people in his life are these days. 

You’re at your most vulnerable with him. You’re so used to hiding how you feel for others' benefits, and he’s glad you don’t have to do that with him. It was a long hard road to get to this point but goddamn if it wasn't worth every moment.  

He’s almost… giddy knowing that you’re going to be mad and he’s gonna be the only witness to it.

But for all your anger and fury, righteous or not. Ain’t none of it will change the fact that at the end of the day you still chose him. 

And even as you wordlessly turn and walk almost robotically up the stairs he’s confident that you’re going to choose him again. 

He barely has time to get the words out before the rest of them are in a frenzy to get out of the house, apparently unwilling to stick around for the fireworks. He doesn’t know what they're so squeamish about, he knows for a fact that they would’ve done worse if he asked them to. 

He trots up the stairs, maybe going a little slower, wanting to really rile you up. When he gets to your shared bedroom, you’re packing up a storm. 

It’s honestly cute that you think you’re going anywhere. 

A part of him knows he should feel more guilty about it. He does feel some guilt of course he’s not a monster, but it does feel roughly the same amount of guilt if he had broken a vase or something. It felt bad in the moment, and he tried his damndest to hide it, but ultimately it didn’t mean much. 

Sure you had been upset those first few weeks after the story dropped but eventually you did get over it and finally learned to enjoy your newfound life as his girl. Yes it cost you your job, but in the grand scheme of things it didn’t matter much. 

And if he’s being honest it only really mattered in getting you to meet him.

Most people would be either on their knees begging for forgiveness from you or continuing to feign ignorance to all of it.

But he’s not most people. He knows what he did and he knows he ain’t got nothing to be sorry over. 

“Can you believe them Hollywood producers ain’t never wanted me in no serious movies?” he says casually, now that there are no more secrets between either of you. 

You throw a bottle of wine at him. 

-------------------------

Ending Note: As Battie as my witness I’ve had this twist planned since the beginning. It’s up to you if I did enough to justify this choice but I am happy with the results. 

Taglist

@venus-haze​ @djsjs13949​ @ilovehobi101​ @butlerslut​ @richardslady121​ @giabelia​ @sydneyyyya @meetme0614 @tacozebra051​ @myradiaz​  @thelifes-world @maythesunshineagain @rakitirakiti @lostteenagetale​ @j-v-9-2  @eliseinmemphis​ @dkayfixates​  @immi547 @thatbanditqueen​   @marriedtoeddie​ @cuteejeno​ @itlover8000​  @isthlsfate​  @mgparker​  @thatbanditqueen​   @softsatnin  @literally-just-elvis-fics​ @adaydreamaway08​ @airyx0x0 @domoron​​ @angelborn-1998

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presely smut #austin butler elvis #austin butler #austin!elvis presley x reader #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis fic #austin!elvis smut #austin butler x reader #yandere elvis #yandere austin!elvis x reader #yandere elvis x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere!elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #austin!elvis #elvis 2022 #elvis x reader #sorry its super late #yandere!elvis

[cherry-holmes]

E R E S M Í A | Javier Peña x F!Reader❤️‍🔥

Glimpse of a life with Javier Peña – Chapter 11.5

aka I’m ovulating

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: You and Javier have funniest things to do than packing your stuff from your apartment.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous chapter

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word count: +1.6k

Warnings: this is pure and complete SMUT. Oral sex (fem receiving). Unprotected P in V sex. Doggy style. A little bit of spanking. Dirty talk. Praise kink. Breeding kink if you squint.

A/N: SO… I’m tryin’ to save my semester here, so I’m having a delay on chapter 12, but since I’m so fuckin’ horny here’s some smut. Hope you like it and stay tuned for chap 12 very soon!!!!

A/N 2: READER DOESNT HAVE PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION. The image of the collage is use just as visual.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You didn't know how did you both ended up on the floor, but you didn't care. You just couldn't think or care about anything else that wasn't his mouth on your pussy. The couch was right there beside you, yet he had you completely naked and whimpering on your apartment's floor.

He was so concentrated down there, licking your core, drinking every trace that might remain of your long gone innocence. Your fingers were between the strands of his hair, your back arched as you tried to cope the devastating pleasure of his touch.

Both of his hands reached to your breasts, massaging them at first and then his fingers began to stimulate your nipples, making your cried out louder. The slurping sounds filled the room, along with your voice full of lust calling his name.

"Javi... Javi..." you moan, and you caught his attention, "I... need you... oh, I need you inside... please!"

He stopped and looked up at you, his mustache and chin glistening with your slick. "We don't have condoms," he remembered to you.

"Please, I can take the pill," you insisted, and you could tell by the way his pants seemed to be suffocating him, that it would be easy to convince him.

"Those pills are full of hormones, baby, you know what I think about..." he started, but cut himself when your hand traveled down your body to your wetting folds, touching yourself.

"Don't tell me you don't want this, Javi," your voice was devilish and provocative. "I know you've always wanted to have my pussy dripping with your cum."

"Fuck..." he hissed, eyes darkening as he saw your fingers pleasuring yourself. You were so sensitive, so needy of his cock. "You're gonna kill me, baby," he said as he started to unbutton his jeans.

Your eyes followed his already naked torso, his tanned skin, broad shoulders and his irresistible slutty waist. He was painfully beautiful, manly and all yours. Javier Peña was your man.

"On your fours, baby," he ordered and you obeyed immediately. "Easy, if your ankle hurt just tell me," he said and you nodded as you accommodate yourself for him. His hands caressed your ass, exploring your waist, bending over you to trace a path of kisses along your spine to your shoulders and the back of your neck. You gasped when he spanked your ass, the perfect mix of delicacy and intense that made your pussy soaked with anticipation. "Such a nice ass, bonita," he praised as his fingers parted your folds, searching for your swollen clit to keep you wet. "I love making love to you, baby. You make me cum like no one else," he said, and it was true.

He had been with others, many times, but that was just sex. No attachments, no bonds, no feelings. He never cared about feelings; he thought he would never need them in matters of sex. It was better for him, easier. But you came into his life and changed his perspective. Javier learned that love, passion, and emotional bonds could change the way he enjoyed sex. And he loved sex with you.

His length made its way through the stretch walls of your pussy; gentle as he let you adapt to him. You felt his warm hands and his hairy pelvis against your ass. He bend over again, pushing himself further, making you whimper as you felt your own body trying to embrace his cock. You were sure you'll never get use to its size.

"Look at you, taking my cock so fuckin' good," he praised to your ear, low and raspy voice sending shivers down your body where you clenched your walls around him. He grunted at the sensation. "You're such a bratty, though, begging for my dick," he added, his hands taking your tits, squeezing them so delicious and torturous. "Tell me what you want, baby."

"I-I want you to fill my pussy up, Javi," you answered, almost at the edge of lost every piece of control. You were already surrendering to him, to his desires. "Please, fuck me," your cheeks burned just to hear yourself.

He grinned, straightening up and finding a good position behind you. "As you wish, mi amor."

Javi's hips started thrusting in a slow pace, in and out, the friction giving both of you some relief, but you wanted more. You wanted Javier Peña to ruin you.

"Harder," you whispered sounding more desperate than you expected. He wanted to punish you, play teasing and torture you, but you looked so damn hot on in that position, you ass up for him... so his hands took a new place on your waist, pulling you against him as he pushed harder towards you. "Fuck, like that!"

The skin-to-skin sounds filled the apartment as your mouth emitted the most wonderful sounds of pleasure, whining and quivering with each bucked of his hips.

"Fuck damn it," he groaned roughly as he felt himself reaching your deepest point. Your back arched up as a response to the feeling, it hurt a little bit. "You okay?" He asked, concern filtering through his breathlessly voice, but he didn't stopped completely.

"Mhm," you nodded, "Don't stop, it feels so good," you encouraged him, and he took a second to find another signal of uncomfortably from you. When he didn't, his pace restarted. He angled his hips to push inside deep as he could go, and this time you just cried out with completely pleasure.

As he was making sure he wasn't hurting you, his movements became more confident and then he was fuckin' you like he had never done before. Holding your hips as his thrusts were desperately but right to that sweet point.

"That's what you wanted?" He asked in a sharp breath, words coming out between his panting. "You fuckin' little thing, such a naughty girl." He spanked you, harder than before, and your walls clenching around him.

"Yes, Javi... don't stop, don't you..." words coiled at your throat, sinking in a hole of lust and passion.

He didn't showed mercy as he kept his hungry moves on you, adding some more spanks on your butt-cheeks, nasty words praising you and your body. His hands were all over your butt, the soft flesh of your tummy, his hands cupping your pussy.

Suddenly, his arms wrapped around your torso, pulling you up and against his warm chest, holding you in a tight embrace. You sat on his lap, legs parted on each side of his, both kneeling as he buried himself deeply into you. One of his hands cupped one of your breasts roughly, while the other kept you still, his breath quivering in your ear as your moans escaped as broken sobs.

"Eres mía, sólo mía," he sighed with pleasure, his lips on your neck and shoulders as he traced soft wet kisses, some of them you knew would left a mark. "Te amo," he added at the time his hand left your breast to find your clit, tracing soft circles, "y amo tus labios, tu coñito, tus ojos, tus tetas... todo, todo lo que es mío."

You were entangled in sensations, thoughts full of love and lust, emitting incoherent moans. Your hips moved almost of their own volition, tracing circles on him as his fingers traced circles on your sensitive clit. You felt a river of sticky slick running down your core to his dick and balls. "You want more?" He asked and you could heard him grinning when you nodded, "Wanna have your sweet, tight, little cunt full of my fuckin' cum?" He asked, but this time when you nodded, he tightened his grip on your body and ordered you with a mandatory voice, "Say it, I wanna hear you."

"Ye-yes," you managed to say.

"Yes what?" He pushed.

"I want your cum dripping out my pussy, Javi, please, I want you to cum inside," your voice quivered, your cheeks burned and his balls shuddered at your words.

“Shit,” he groaned. Then, his arms released you, pulling back but still very inside of you. “Bounce on it, then, make cum,” he demanded.

Your hands went to the floor, founding a better position so you could start moving. Your hips went up and down, back and forth as you whimpered and whined at the overwhelming feeling.

Javier was mesmerized by the way your ass bounced, his big cock disappearing inside of you and coming out soaked with your honey. He was moaning, praising you, grunting as he felt his release coming closer. You were very close too.

“Ah! Ah! Javi… I’m gonna cum…” you warned him, and he took your hips to help you fastened your movements as he he growled full of lust and passion.

“Keep going, just like that, I’m coming, baby.”

Javier cum inside of you with a loud groan, eyes shut and his heavy weight curling over you. And when you felt your pussy filling with his thick, warm load, you came as your body convulsed under his. You could perfectly feel his cock twitching inside as both of your releases came out of you cunt, over the floor.

“You alright?” He whispered after a few moments, still trying to recover his breath.

“Yeah,” you answered, cock drunk, not wanting him to came out of you. “That was… awesome.”

“I know,” he agreed, his lips placing kisses on your back as he finally came out.

When you tried to climb to the couch, he took you by your waist, pulling you back to him. You laughed and sat on his bare lap, over his still wet, half-hard cock. His arms wrapped around you once more, his lips on your mouth to share a passionate kiss. His fingers traced a soft circles on your legs, and your fingers went to his hair to pull him closer.

You still have a lot of stuff to packed to officially moved to his place, but when his fingers found the way to your core filled of himself, you couldn’t say no.

CHAPTER 12

#pedro pascal #fanfic #narcos #pedro pascal x reader #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #javier pena imagine #javierpeña #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier peña scenes #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #pedro pascal smut #agent pena smut #smut #javierpeña x reader

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

HANDS ON YOU — 024

IN WHICH; ILAND 2 happened and you debuted first place as the leader of LUMIÉRE. Having been told that your group is involved in a lore crossover with ENHYPEN, you navigate work, friendship, and love while trying to make it in an industry filled with animosity and condemnation. When life throws you lemons, you gotta make lemonades chuck it right back!

smau + written (1.1k words)

❥･• chapter 24 — you

You stand behind a van at the entrance of the park, seeking cover beneath a magnificent tree. It didn’t help much that it was still bright out and your tear-soaked mask fails to conceal your emotions, which have been pouring out ceaselessly since you excused yourself from the dorm.

Fortunately, it being a quiet Monday afternoon, there are hardly any passersby. The few exceptions, mostly older individuals taking their customary walks, do not pay you much attention.

Silently, you rock back and forth, noticing the coolness in the air and the leaves on the trees around you transitioning to hues of amber and gold, signaling the impending arrival of autumn.

You can't help but find it ironic that the person you long to see after Ray dropped such a devastating bombshell on you is him. Somewhere amidst the late-night conversations and intimate moments you shared, Heeseung became your anchor. In times of adversity, he is the one who offers solace, the same guy who held you in a headlock nearly three months ago.

"Y/N!" Your head whips toward the sound of the familiar voice, and you see Heeseung running toward you. Chuckling softly, you notice he has thrown a coat over his sleeping hoodie, his tousled bed hair still in disarray, and his shoelaces untied. "You didn't have to rush!"

"I didn't want to keep you waiting—oh my God, are you crying?" Instinctively, he cups your face, trapping you between the unassuming van and his body. As if on cue, all the emotions you have been suppressing burst forth once again, and you find yourself uncontrollably sobbing, seeking solace in his arms. Heeseung gently caresses your hair while you try to muffle your sobs against his shoulder.

"God, I hate seeing you like this," he grumbles, his breath brushing against the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

"I'm sorry. Come to think of it, I always look like absolute shit whenever you see me."

"Hey, every time I lay my eyes on you is a blessing. Unless you're suggesting that I'm not only rizzless but also tasteless, I don't want to hear you say that about yourself." He huffs, and you laugh at his playful antics, grateful that they manage to lift your spirits, even if only momentarily.

"So, do you want to talk about what's troubling you?" He prompts, carefully studying your expression before delving deeper. "If it makes you feel any better, Ray seems much calmer now than when she first showed up."

"That's good.” You breathe a sigh of relief, your voice surprisingly calm. You create some distance between the two of you which leads to his hands dropping from your face to your waist, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your sides, much like the times when the two of you practiced the partner choreography together. Heeseung has always made sure you feel comfortable during rehearsals, and you've come to find solace in the little things he does for you, perhaps way too much.

You look up at him, a lone tear escaping the corner of your eye, and Heeseung swears he has never seen you so vulnerable yet so breathtakingly beautiful. It is no secret that he has an enormous crush on you, but he has never been certain if you reciprocate his feelings or if you consider him just a close friend, like you do Jungwon.

Heeseung smiles encouragingly, urging you to speak, and after deliberating for some time on how to articulate your thoughts, you finally do. "I just found out something that supposedly happened during I-LAND, and now I don't know what to do with this information."

"I know it's been ages since the show ended, and I shouldn't dwell on what happened, but I can't help but feel..." You trail off, averting your gaze while toying with the strap of his coat.

"Hurt?" Heeseung finishes your sentence, causing you to snap your eyes up to meet his. "Yeah, how did you…?"

"Ray filled me in before I left. YN, I've been where you are, more than two years ago. I know better than anyone what you're going through." It takes you a moment to grasp his meaning, and once you do, a laugh escapes your lips. "How did you manage?"

"Back then, we were all young and desperate," Heeseung begins, his fingers gently caressing your hair as he speaks, and you instinctively lean into his touch. "I believe everything happens for a reason. No matter how fucked up the situation was, it played a part in leading you here as the leader of Lumière."

"How so?"

"For instance, if you had ended up taking on the vocal representative role, you wouldn't have shown the rest of the I-landers that you in fact, don't consider yourself better than them." He squeezes your cheeks playfully, causing you to pout as memories of the incident resurface.

"Remember that conversation you had with Minjung on the balcony? You mentioned feeling pressured because of everyone's high expectations?" You nod, recalling the context of the heartfelt talk that was showcased in that episode.

"And if I know a thing or two, you were probably relieved when they took you off the role, weren't you?" He arches an eyebrow, and you mimic his expression, surprised that he read you like an open book despite not being there physically. "Honestly, yeah. But at the time, I genuinely thought it was because I wasn't good enough. For the sake of the team, I was willing to do whatever they wanted. I just didn't realize they saw me that way back then. I must have looked like a complete fool walking around like I owned the place."

"Y/N, respectfully, shut up." You stifle a laugh, and he smiles down at you. It's in that moment that you become acutely aware of how close you are to each other. A slight movement, and your lips would be pressed against his—not that you’d complain if it ever comes down to it.

"All that matters is that you proved them wrong. And if anything, I'm sure your members feel just as remorseful as Ray does, doesn’t excuse her for being a B-word towards you though.” Heeseung pouts, somehow more angrier than you who is in the unfortunate predicament in the first place. You mentally thank Heeseung for still respecting your members despite being visibly upset over it. It’s one of the traits you like about him.

“Talk to them, Y/N."

"I'm not planning to avoid it. I'm just unsure of how I should approach it," you confess, feeling deflated as thoughts of confrontation fill your mind. Yes, you may be the leader of Lumière, and may always seem like you’re calm and somehow have the answer to everything, but just like everyone else, you're human; you get lost and your feelings get hurt too.

“Come to think of it, if you knew what happened during our I-LAND, you must’ve watched the show didn’t you?” A mischievous smirk plays on your lips as you recall how Heeseung vehemently denied watching it, only remembering you from the final episode.

"Be honest, you planned this to get it out of me, didn't you?" He playfully pokes your side, causing you to cave in on yourself, laughing.

“How could I not when someone as talented as you was performing one of our songs? On top of that, it was Fever?” You know he’s playing with you but you could still feel your cheeks heating up, as you smile foolishly to yourself. You were suppose to be the one teasing him, not the other way around!

"That means you voted too?" you ask, intending to turn the table on him.

“Of course, I did.”

“For who?”

“You.” (you in fact did not turn tables 🤡)

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♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

authors note: i love how i’m going back and forth between heeyn and drama with these chapters 💀 some context for all my fellow engenes who didn’t manage to watch I-LAND (just to be clear, y’all don’t have to watch it to be engenes! in fact i recommend against watching the show, it was traumatic asf 😀). basically for their first mission, based on what i rmbr, Heeseung was originally part 1 (centre) for the signal song but a few of the ilanders didn’t really like the way he lead practises. So they, kinda conspired(?) behind his back and instigated to vote him out of the part and put Ni-ki up instead, he basically ended up in part 10 with one line in the song even though he was the most capable one there. this is not intended to throw any shade at any trainees at that time of the show (maybe seon 🫢), only for the development of the plot!! only love for all members of enha allowed <3 also heeyn situationship era is so fun to write y’all have no idea 👀

taglist! open @softiehee @annoyingbitch83 @hoon0logy @aernx @lhees01 @flower0930 @harperwasstaken1 @haechansbbg @renjunoya @heeheesang @spilled-coffee-cup @jwnghyuns @ocyeanicc @neozon3nha @pshchives @casualzo @captivq @suvgs

#belift #enhypen #heeseung #hybe #jay #jungwon #sunghoon #heeseung x reader #idol au #iland #jakesim #sunoo #nishimura riki #heeseung smau #enhypen fluff #enhypen social media au #enhypen smau #enha smau #tfwy handsonyou #jake sim #enhypen angst #jake #kpop smau #smau

[lovejosephquinn]

Authors Note: I had so much love for Part 1 of my new mini series, I'm so excited about it you'll all be sick of hearing it by the time it's done. I think it'll be a four or five part mini series depending on if I make the parts shorter! If you want to be added to the tag list as it goes along, drop me a message or a comment 🥰 thanks for reading! Summary: You're marrying a man for an easy life, yet you're so in love with your best friend it hurts. What would happen if everything changed drastically between the two of you before you were due to be wed?

Under 18's DNI. Warnings: Smut, heartbreak, friends to nothing? Slow burning (not sorry) Word Count: 2.5k Taglist: @kayleeelena97 @eddiemunson-mylove @itsfreakingbats @creoleguurl @almightywdm @xlilithb @shawnamae87

Part 1 ✨ Part 2 ✨ Part 3 ✨ Part 4 ✨ Part 5

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Joe hovered behind you, pressing his fingers to your hips, gently caressing a part of your skin that each of his fingers held softly.

"More than anything." You whispered, slowly moving your head round to meet Joe's in a sensationally passionate kiss. Your lips fit perfectly together, the sounds of smacking in unison as your mouths moved as one. His hands elevated up towards your breasts, grazing the palms over your nipples as he massaged them lightly, making sure you felt each ounce of touch in a different way, the only thing you could feel was the electricity and pure adrenaline running throughout your body.

You were about to sleep with your best friend. And for what? You'd just had a bad few nights suffering without him.

Your neck was engulfed with saliva that let off from his tongue, it worked every sweet spot, a mark almost raising from where he sucked at you, you swerved around quickly, pushing him down onto the bed behind him, immediately coming up to sit on top of him, your hips started working at a slow rate, grinding yourself down upon his length. Joe watched you with eager eyes, drinking the entirety of you in, his focus wasn't set on anything less and it was beautiful.

"You're so wet for me princess." Joe moaned, quickly latching his hands back to your hips to guide you along, slowing you down whenever you fastened just so he wouldn't cum too soon.

"It's all for you." You tilted your head back, your hair tossing back and fourth as his force pushed you to grind harder.

"Leave him."

"I-I can't." You bit your lip. It hurt that you had to deny him after all you wanted Joe so badly, but you couldn't quite get over the devastation and ridicule you would face if you were to call the wedding off.

"Please, I- I love you." You could've mistook the whimpers for begging, the way he stuttered those three words could have caused your heart to burst into flame more than it already had.

Joe sat up, gripping onto your back, panting as his breath hit your neck once more, thrusting his hips up to push himself between your slit.

"Wake up." Joe said abruptly.

"Wait, what?" You threw yourself back, startled and brows furrowed.

Your eyes opened immediately the sound of your fiancé next to you, his hand patting at your shoulder rapidly.

"Wake up!" Oh. It was all a dream.

"Are you ok, you were breathing so weirdly." You looked over through the glimpse of light shining onto him, smiling weakly, you nodded and turned over to face away from him.

"Just having one of those nights I guess." Your fiancé moved his arm around you in some what of an attempt to comfort you, your face almost repulsed by the feeling but as you closed your eyes again, all you could feel was Joe. The thought calmed you instantly, but the pit of your stomach still felt the nauseating emotion of the fact that your dream was not a reality and you were still stuck in the same position.

The days just creeped on, you'd booked the venue, you'd left it to your girl friend's to plan your hen night. Something had sparked in you in the last few weeks and you were just ready to get it over and done with, your fiancé had asked if you wanted to wait to get married but you'd shook your head in sheer enthusiasm, insisting that the wedding happen as soon as possible so you could get on with your life and move onto the next chapter.

It was a sad state of affairs that you didn't have Joe there to do it by your side, even if the circumstances were still pretty raw, you needed the person you'd always entrusted with your whole heart and soul to be around, but you'd heard nothing from him. Attempts of reaching out were few and far between due to the lack and next to no response from him and deep down it hurt. He still rotated in your brain like nobodies business, but you kept quiet about it, not leaving anything to the imagination, only what your dreams allowed. If your friends asked, you knew they wouldn't pry too much into it, purely because they didn't know the truth, about the eventfulness of prom night or your heavy and quite frankly unsaid feelings for one anther. You'd just let them know he was busy, but there was only so many times you could cover for him without his knowledge, especially when there'd be talks of why he wasn't around come the actual day.

This particular day was the only one you'd been looking forward too, picking out your dress. Your mum and a couple of your friends joined you at the shop, each of you huddled around the different racks of styles trying to find a few for you to try on, you didn't necessarily give a damn on what type you got, seeing as you weren't too fussed about the occasion you were wearing it for, but it was something a woman naturally got excited about and dreams about for most of her childhood, so it was only right you felt a tiny bit of elation.

Coo's of happiness and tears erupted the room when you came out in the first dress, your mum clapped her hands giving a standing ovation for every single one. When you were behind the curtain getting fitted by the assistant into the last dress, the doorbell rang and footsteps entered through the door, you kept an ear out to listen to what was being said, yet all you could make out was rustling and whispers.

"What's going on out there?" You shouted, eyeing yourself in the mirror in extreme confusion. The assistant tugged at you to keep still whilst she hooked up the buttons at the back of the dress, keeping you in a statue like position when all you wanted to do was run out and see what the commotion was about.

"Nothing sweetness." Your mum called out.

Approximately no more than a minute later, the doorbell rang again and the door slammed shut, leaving pure silence lingering around the room. You shook your head and focussed on the task ahead, but seeing yourself in this last dress took your mind off of out there and brought you to the present. Wow. You couldn't believe how beautiful you looked, truth be told it was your dream dress, something you'd never of thought would of been placed onto your own body, but needless of the opinions of the others, you were having this one based off of your own gasp that let out of your throat.

"Ready?" You spoke out and all eyes were swept to the curtain, the assistant pulled it back and you stepped out, clutching to the length of the dress so that you could move easier.

"This is it." You grinned, watching the jaws of everyone around you fall to the floor.

"Perfect!"

"Beautiful!"

"I'll have it if you don't." your friend stated confidently, winking at you to the response of your eyes rolling heavily.

Everybody looked slightly unnerved yet tried to hide it, you scanned their features individually trying to figure out what exactly had happened in the time scale of you leaving to try on said dress before coming back out into the open to reveal it.

"What's going on?"

"I'll be buying the dress!" Your mum called out to the assistant, ushering you behind the curtain in a hurry.

"Mum what's going on?" Her face dropped from the attempted and apparent grin she was faking just a second ago.

"He just came by." She struggled to keep a calm tone, she knew the very name was going to send you into a spiral as soon as she mentioned it, even from her own mouth. Your mum was under wraps about what had happened at your party, but a more shortened version of how Joe and you had fallen out over something completely different than what it actually was; so only half of it was a lie.

"Who did?" The assistant shouted through to come to get you out of the dress, interrupting before she could get it out.

Your mum left the booth so that you could get changed back into your normal clothing, the dress was rung up at the till and you left the store, it reserved and ready for any alterations you may need to go back for in the coming weeks.

After saying goodbye to your friends, you went over the road to the beautiful and quaint little café, sitting by the glass window that overlooked the busy road between that and the bridal boutique. After ordering your drinks, you found your foot tapping impatiently on the ground, settling your hands on the table, you scanned the menu and then looked back up to her.

"So who came by mum?"

"Joe." She breathed in, it practically felt like she'd stolen the air from your lungs when she uttered the one syllable.

"W-w-what did h-he want?" You gulped, holding the tears back stubbornly, not letting your sadness show. You didn't know if it was a good thing or not that you'd missed him stopping by... And how did he know where you were? All of these questions and so little answers.

"He told me not to mention who was here but then asked me to give you this." She pulled out an envelope, signed in his own hand with your name, marked under it for her eyes only.

"What is it?" A letter you dumbass.

"I have no idea. Open it in your own time though. It must be important if he wants nobody else to read it."

"I'll be back in a second." You stood up from the table, the letter grasped in your hand and moved fast to the bathroom.

Locking the toilet stall door behind you, you sat down on the toilet seat, staring down at your name written in the black ink. Taking a deep breath and ripping open the envelope carelessly, you unfolded the piece of paper inside to a whole essay, something told you inside that you knew you would indeed not be back to your mum in a hurry.

Another nauseous sigh fell out and you began to read:

Hey princess. Well I don't know if you want to be called that anymore, you never really liked it anyway. I might repeat myself over and over here and you should see the amount of trees I've probably killed from trying to find the right words to say. I've wanted to speak to you about what happened at your birthday party that night, the way we left things wasn't like us.

We know each other better than that, I shouldn't of stormed off the way I did, I shouldn't of left in the circumstances that I did, but I can't take that back now.

It's true. I can't be a part of your life with him, I mean that with my whole heart and it kills me to say that for as long as he's around, that means you can't be a part of my life anymore. My heart is done breaking and we have to move on. Of course I'm scared that you'd of rejected me if I ever told you the truth, who wouldn't be?

The last few years have ripped me apart seeing you being loved by someone that's not me. It was easier to handle when we were younger because I guess I knew things probably just wouldn't work out. But I guess I haven't done myself any favours by not telling you the truth of why or what. I know we've been friends for a bloody long time, you get less for murder nowadays :) but nobody told me how hard it would be to be in love with your best friend, to want to go to the ends of the earth and protect her at all costs. To want to be the only man to make her smile and laugh, to be the one who's there for her when times are happy and times are dark. I wish I could of done things differently. But maybe it's too late. I regret how things have ended and now it's like I have nothing. That's my fault. But just one thing I want you to know is that I will always long for your happiness, even if it's never going to be me. You're the best thing that ever happened to me and I'll never forget the memories we made or even that one time we never bring up. You know what I'm referring to? Prom night? You're so beautiful.

Please keep this to yourself and read it when you need to hear from me, I'm sorry that I ruined everything about us and probably have even stabbed my own back further by doing this letter. I just needed to say it in the only way I could think was easiest. Always yours. Joey.

Tears streamed down your face and splattered onto the page that had started to crease from the intensity of your touch, your heart clenched and you wished the ground would just swallow you whole, a dark place where you would never get out. Of course the letter was beautifully written in every single way and his confession was so him, the sarcasm did make you woefully chuckle in some respects but you couldn't help but have that slight humour masked by the emptiness that consumed you.

You were startled when a tap on the stall came from the other side. "Everything ok in there?" It was your mums voice.

You wiped your eyes and grabbed some tissue to blow your nose, flushing the toilet in great timing so that she wouldn't hear the vile amount of snot coming through.

"Yeah I'll be out in a second."

The bathroom door opened and closed shut soon after and you pushed the letter up to your heart, giving it a quick squeeze before putting it back into the envelope and into your back pocket. Walking over to the mirror, tears still making their way out from the fresh hurt of Joe's letter.

Did it really have to be over just like that?

#joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfiction

[thedoover-if]

THE EX ROUTE IS GOING TO KILL ME, WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO US😭😭

IM SORRY😭 to be fair id never forgive cheating but in games i usually always let it slide so i really wanted to have a ro where it feels very vulnerable to not only move on but also allow oneself to fall in love AGAIN... i think itll be a very interesting dynamic to explore (and i love drama LOL love when authors rip my heart to shreds and then stomp on the pieces too)

fyi youll be able to be hesitant, fearful or whatever OR you can cheat with them, not caring for their current partner and be like rory from gilmore girls where she's like "dean was mine first" (iykyk!!!!)

added a little snippet of a potential scene ive got planned with MC on 'the ex' ro route. call it a little taster LOL (under the cut)

(fyi its from the pov of an MC who still involuntarily feels something for the ex)

“don’t do that,” you spit, gaze slowly travelling down your ex-spouse’s frame. they’re seated on the opposite side of the living room, on the same exact sofa they used to occupy – be it during game nights, movie nights, or simply weekends spent quietly enjoying each other’s company. it felt like the perfect fit. they were the unique key to your lock. the gentle notes on your sometimes out of pitch days… until the music abruptly came to a halt, never to be played again. and ever since that day, three years ago, your life has been muted – dulled even. “do what?” they tilt their face up, and for a moment you’re transferred back in time. but you snap yourself out of it just as quickly; you refuse to go down that path again. although you’re stood a few metres away, you’re able to make out a shapely outline – it's you – on the otherwise empty page of the sketchbook propped on their lap. “you’re drawing me – I don’t want you to draw me.” “why can’t I? you look beautiful.” the stupidly crooked smile creeping upon their features is like a stab to the heart, and those last three words shove the knife straight through your body. just like that, your lungs implode – you’re in too deep. a tsunami of emotions rips open every old wound you nurtured close so carefully over the past months. the hours spent in therapy, flushed down the drain by a sweet compliment. soured by the wrong person. “because that’s what you did when you were with them. when I see you doing this, it makes me think about every night you lied.” your throat grows tight, your vision blurs, and yet you continue, “every night you spent with [redacted] while I was right here… waiting.” for seemingly the first time, you notice sun rays peeking through your beige curtains. it’s almost like the sun has sensed the devastation ongoing in the pit of your stomach, and so with each passing second of your skin soaking up the warm orange beams, the grey clouds inside your head clear more and more. it takes one large breath to relax the tightness of your vocal cords, before you’re able to force a sound out. “you really hurt me [redacted]…” as soon as a look of regret takes over [redacted]’s otherwise painfully gorgeous face, a small flame of hope lights up in your body – one you didn’t grant permission. it’s soothing… and familiar, yet you starve that spark and let it die. “you drawing me like that – it hurts because you know I’ll like it… and that’s not fair, [redacted]” you whisper, before standing tall, a surge of determination coursing through your veins, “I’m not going to let you do this to me again.”

#inbox <3 #ro: the ex spouse #snippet

[ravenpostpublishing]

An Abridged Excerpt from Edgar Allan Poe's "The Masque of the Red Death" (1842)

"The 'Red Death' had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avator and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.

"But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys … The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the 'Red Death.'

"It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.

"It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade. But first let me tell of the rooms in which it was held. There were seven—an imperial suite … [The] windows were of stained glass whose color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example, in blue—and vividly blue were its windows. The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third was green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was furnished and lighted with orange—the fifth with white—the sixth with violet. The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue. But in this chamber only, the color of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes here were scarlet—a deep blood color … But in the western or black chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to set foot within its precincts at all.

"It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to harken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused revery or meditation. But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before...

"[It] was [Prince Prospero's] own guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm ... There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. There were much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these—the dreams—writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away—they have endured but an instant—and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods. But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments...

"And thus too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise—then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust…

"The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood—and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror..."

– Edgar Allan Poe, 1842

To read the entirety of this classic tale and bask in its ghoulish glory, please do pay a visit to The Raven Post.

To contribute your own short story to The Raven Post's library, please visit our Submissions page.

#edgar allan poe #19th century #prose #short story #short horror story #short fiction #history #historical fiction #dark academia #the masque of the red death #fiction #horror #reading #writeblr

[raincitygirl76]

A terrific review of Young Royals Season 2 in The Sophian.

The Sophian is the student newspaper of Smith College in Northampton, MA, USA. I don't know how long college newspapers keep their archives up, so just in case, I copy-pasted the article below. But assuming the link above works (and it worked just fine right now), please go to the link, don't read my copy-paste.

All Things Real: a Review of “Young Royals” Season Two

BY CATE CHRISTINIDIS ON NOVEMBER 15, 2022 | 

ARTS AND CULTURE, POP CULTURE, REVIEWS AND TV

Photo by Robert Eldrim via Netflix.

Hillerska: a private boarding school tucked away in Sweden; horseback riding, rowing, rowdy parties and, most notably, 16-year-old Crown Prince Wilhelm. Still, “Young Royals” (2022) is no fairytale. A simmering pot of angst, romance, betrayal and battles of the conscience, “Young Royals” displays unadulterated teenage reality. Season One ended with Hillerska’s most scandalous term to date, and Wilhelm, played by Edvin Ryding, reluctantly left it behind to the promising tune of Elias’ “Revolution.” In the rubble of Season One, audiences couldn’t help but wonder: would Season Two be that revolution? 

The short answer is yes. The romance that blossoms between openly gay Simon Eriksson (Omar Rudberg) and closeted Crown Prince Wilhelm enters uncharted territory. Wilhelm’s self-discovery is thwarted by the looming sense of duty pressed upon him by Sweden’s royal court, who deem queerness as a threat to the monarchy. Yet, the essence of the story does not lie in Wilhelm’s royal title, but in the title of the show itself: “Young Royals.” It is easy to forget, and equally important to remember, that the students of Hillerska are just kids. Their mistakes are children’s mistakes, and their resilience and bravery are monumental. 

This also means that every catastrophe is that much more devastating. Both seasons deal with a case of child pornography –– a cellphone video of Simon and Wilhelm, recorded through Wilhelm’s dormroom window. Regardless of social power, money or fame, the problems that overwhelm Wilhelm and Simon’s relationship are unmistakably larger than they are. 

“Young Royals” is all things real –– the bodies and situations portrayed on screen all reflect some semblance of teenage existence; simultaneous chaos, uncertainty, imperfection and beauty. The series doesn’t shy away from the ugly side of teenage life: where partying and stress meet drug use and where jealousy leads to impulsive, criminalizing mistakes. “Young Royals” is both dark and refreshing, unusual in its ability to look life right in the face. 

The American media tends to place a beauty filter over the formative years. Audiences lapse into patterns of falsified viewing, scarcely aware enough to ask themselves: Hey, aren’t teenagers supposed to have acne? “Young Royals” doesn’t blink twice at these “blemishes” –– acne, crooked teeth, etc. In fact, they are clearly embraced, normalized and desirable –– clear skin and perfect teeth are not deal-breakers for being the most popular girl in school or the Crown Prince. 

“Young Royals” likewise considers the psychological realities faced in the war between authenticity and duty. Season one introduced Wilhelm’s struggle with anxiety, but Season Two pursues the extent to which anxiety and panic consume Wilhelm after Season One’s events. It may sound cliché –– the prince who can’t handle the pressure of the crown –– but Wilhelm doesn’t ask the audience to feel sorry for him, and neither does “Young Royals.” Wilhelm is much messier in Season Two. He explodes with emotion –– fear, pain, anger, guilt and sadness –– and, without Simon, there is nowhere for it to go. He is selfish, rude, depressed, spoiled and makes bad choices. But Wilhelm’s reasons for not wanting to be Crown Prince are rightfully selfish; at 16, he is resigning himself to an empty and dishonest life. Forced by his mother, the Queen, Wilhelm begrudgingly sees a therapist, and while he resents the need for it, Season Two’s “revolution” finds Wilhelm overcoming his personal barriers to enact change.  

Wilhelm and Simon are separated by class more than anything. Wilhelm, as a member of the royal family, is an elite, while Simon, a non-boarder, can’t afford to live at the school. While Wilhelm tries to understand Simon (and vice versa), there are times when their differences speak louder than they do. Simon’s inability to understand why Wilhelm, as Crown Prince, can’t disregard the crown and take a stand, clashes with Wilhelm’s inability to see how Simon’s social status caused him to receive the brunt of the backlash for the sextape. Season Two is a testament to revisions and the rightings of wrongs; as Wilhelm works through his own emotions, he learns to use his power and status for progress.

Season Two of “Young Royals” is all about decisions; specifically, revising and listening to one’s conscience to make the right one. Which decision will start a revolution, which will fuel it, which will kill it? Despite the tumultuous path to togetherness, Simon and Wilhelm have an incredibly realistic and healthy relationship. They show love through communication; their need to be seen, heard and understood by each other is unshakable. It makes the moments when they do touch –– which are surprisingly few and far between –– feel all the more worth fighting for. Wilhelm certainly agrees; each season begins and ends with his eyes locked on the camera. This is his story, and he’ll go to war for it.  

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