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godricgryffinsnore · 3 months ago

Note

HELLO HELLO HELLO!!!

so I just stumbled on your page and realised that I really like your writing style, kudos to you and I have a request!!!

ahem ahem

so this has been on my mind for a while and idk maybe I just have a thing for time travel fics

so can we do james x femreader where during yk the typical time travel fic, she gets hit and sent bsck to like marauders era!

also background info she’s like bffs with golden trio and stuff

and she’s a slytherin!!! (idk u can use ur creativity to figure out how they become friends or something)

but it’s sorta like forbidden love cuz she becomes friends with narcissa and Bella AND ALSO is bffs with his son, so they can’t exactly be together

ps nobody knows that she’s been sent back in time

YOU CAN FECIDE THE RESTTTT

is it unrequited? does James still like Lily? what happens to HARry?!!!

Splintered In Time ♡ : A James Potter Fan Fiction.

pairing : James Potter x female!slytherin!reader

summary : When a spell gone wrong sends you hurtling back to the Marauders era, you find yourself entangled in a life you were never meant to live. Torn between the friendships you left behind and the forbidden love you were never meant to have, you must face the impossible choice: to hold on to a borrowed future or fight for the one slipping through your fingers. But time is never kind to those who dare to rewrite it. And love—love is the most reckless magic of all.

warnings : Emotional whiplash, time travelling, poetic language, heavy yearning, Marauders banter, but with a hopeful conclusion, angst with happy ending, slight ‘Snily’ in the ending. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

word count : 10k {Longest fiction I have ever written}

main master list <3

della's note : Babe! This request made me question and challenge my creativity. Thanks A TON for requesting!!! It felt wonderful to write about time travelling. Oh and btw, originally this was supposed to be a sad ending fiction. But I just can't do this to our James <333 I hope you like it!!!! Oh and it's a super long fiction. Like, I got really carried away while writing!!! I AM SO EXCITED. This is a really long fic, so sit back, grab your popcorn and ENJOYYYYY <33333

banners : @uzmacchiato and @roseschoices

There are no stars tonight—only the burn of borrowed time.

You didn’t see it coming.

The curse, emerald and vicious, came hissing through the battlefield. You only heard Hermione’s choked scream, Harry’s ragged breath, Ron’s hoarse shout—everything distorted by the thunder of chaos. The three of them were only feet away, desperate and bloodied, backs pressed against stone as the fight splintered around them.

You reached for Harry, fingers outstretched, but the magic hit you square in the chest.

And you were falling— Through time itself.

── .✦

When you opened your eyes, the Forbidden Forest was far younger. The trees were taller, the air less burdened with ghosts. You tasted autumn in your throat. Time had slipped backward, cruel and nameless, and dropped you into a decade where your existence was an error.

But you were alive.

Alone.

You spent the first week haunting the forest’s edge like a ghost, walking its shadowed paths with trembling hands. You whispered Harry’s name into the wind, over and over, as if he might somehow hear you across time. You expected Ron to stumble through the underbrush, muddy and panting, calling you an idiot for getting yourself cursed. You waited for Hermione’s clever hands to grab your wrist and yank you back into the war.

But they never came.

Instead, you stood before the castle doors—haunted and hollow—and walked back into the school you had already left behind.

── .✦

You were sorted into Slytherin. The Hat perched on your head seemed to hum with ancient curiosity, peeling back your layers and tasting the war on your tongue.

“Oh,” it murmured, almost gently. “You’ve already fought your battles, haven’t you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. Please, just make it quick.

It considered you carefully. Measured the iron and fire in your bones, the loyalty stitched so violently into your chest.

But it placed you in Slytherin, and you didn’t argue. You were already too tired to protest.

── .✦

It started with James. It was always James.

He had a terrible habit of appearing out of nowhere. You’d be walking down the hall, perfectly content to avoid unnecessary attention, when suddenly, his arm would be slung over your shoulders as if it belonged there.

“You’ve got to stop looking so suspicious, snake,” he drawled one day, grinning lazily. “People might start thinking you’re up to something.”

You glanced at him, unimpressed. “I am up to something.”

James’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Yeah?” he smirked, leaning closer, voice low with mock suspicion. “Planning to kidnap me? Hex me into oblivion? Steal my heart?”

You deadpanned. “I was thinking more along the lines of poisoning your pumpkin juice, but sure.”

He laughed far too loudly for the middle of the corridor, earning glares from passing professors.

“Oh, she’s funny,” he announced loudly to no one in particular, hands over his heart. “Merlin, I think I’m in love.”

You shoved him off, fighting the way your stomach fluttered, but he caught your wrist before you could escape. His grip was firm but gentle, and when you glanced at him over your shoulder, his eyes were far too soft.

“Let me walk you to class,” he murmured, the grin slipping into something warmer.

You should have told him no. But you didn’t.

── .✦

You found yourself tangled with the Marauders far too quickly.

They were impossible to avoid—loud and ungovernable, a storm of mischief and chaos that you had no hope of resisting. You were stolen into their orbit before you could fight it, dragged into their endless schemes and reckless antics.

One morning, you were sitting by the lake, boots kicked off, enjoying the rare sliver of peace. You had foolishly thought you were alone.

Then a shadow fell over you.

“Hello there, Slytherin,” Sirius Black’s voice drawled lazily from above you.

You didn’t bother looking up. “Go away, Black.”

Sirius plopped himself down beside you, entirely ignoring your protest. He stretched out his legs with a contented sigh, as if he belonged there.

Moments later, James appeared, dropping down beside you with a casual grin.

“Morning, love,” he greeted cheerfully, far too pleased with himself.

You narrowed your eyes. “Why do you sound so smug?”

James’s grin widened. “Oh, no reason. I may have just turned McGonagall’s teacup into a toad. But, you know, totally hypothetical.”

You stared at him. “You’re going to die one day, you know that, right?”

“Probably,” James agreed easily, slinging an arm around your shoulders with infuriating charm. “But at least I’ll die with you scolding me. Very romantic.”

Before you could shove him into the lake, Remus strolled over with an exasperated sigh. He paused, taking in the sight of James practically draped over you, and arched a brow.

“Are you bothering her again?” Remus asked, voice dry as parchment.

James beamed. “She likes it.”

You snorted. “I loathe it.”

Sirius, clearly feeling left out, threw himself dramatically into your lap, draping one arm across his forehead with an exaggerated sigh.

“Why,” he drawled dramatically, “why does she only have eyes for James?”

You shoved him half-heartedly, but he only cackled and threw his arms around your waist.

“Get off me, Black!” you spluttered.

James, narrowing his eyes with faux jealousy, nudged Sirius none too gently with his knee. “Oi, off. She’s mine.”

Sirius gasped, clutching his chest. “Yours? Possessive much, Prongs? I knew you were a selfish bastard, but this—this is heartbreaking.”

James rolled his eyes, giving you an exaggerated look of betrayal. “Are you cheating on me with my best mate?”

You snorted. “If I were, you’d deserve it.”

Peter arrived late to the scene, holding a half-eaten pastry, and squinted at the chaos. “Wait—are you two dating?” he asked, blinking between you and James.

“Of course we are,” James said with mock indignation, eyes glinting wickedly. “Didn’t you get the wedding invitation, Wormtail?”

Sirius, still sprawled across your legs, clutched at your hand. “It’s true! She’s only marrying him for his money, you know. I tried to warn him.”

You shoved Sirius off you with a laugh, but James caught your wrist before you could scramble away. His grip was warm, his fingers curling around yours, far gentler than they should have been. When you glanced at him, his eyes were bright with mischief—but there was something softer beneath it. Something you weren’t quite ready to name.

And you hated that you didn’t pull away. Hated how much you liked the way he held on.

── .✦

You should have left. You should have walked away.

But when James kissed you for the first time beneath the clock tower, you let yourself fall.

── .✦

There are no stars tonight—only the burn of borrowed time.

James kissed you in every corner of Hogwarts.

He kissed you by the Black Lake, where the reeds bent with the wind and the water lapped at your boots. He kissed you in the hidden passageways behind the tapestry of Gregory the Smarmy, his fingers fisted in your robes, dragging you against him as if he could anchor you there forever.

And you let him. You let him because he didn’t know the truth.

He didn’t know that when you kissed him, you were tasting borrowed time. That when you clutched at his robes, you were holding on to something already slipping through your fingers.

Because you knew. You knew that one day he would look at you and see nothing but betrayal.

And when the truth finally came—it broke you.

── .✦

It was never meant to slip out.

You had spent months dodging questions, weaving careful half-truths and white lies. James had been curious, of course. He was a Gryffindor, after all—reckless and brash, always needing to know why.

But he trusted you. And it made it too easy to lie.

Until one night, when it all came unraveled.

── .✦

It happened in the Gryffindor common room.

The fire had burned low, its light casting long, honeyed shadows across the rug where the Marauders sat sprawled in their usual disarray. Sirius was lounging with his head in Remus’s lap, tossing Bertie Bott’s beans at Peter, who swatted at him with a scowl. James sat on the floor with his back against the couch, legs stretched out, fingers idly playing with the fraying hem of your sleeve.

You had barely noticed. You were too lost in the sound of their laughter, the way their voices filled the room—so young, so unbroken. For a moment, you let yourself forget. You let yourself imagine that this was your world. That you belonged here.

And then Sirius, ever reckless with his sharp-edged tongue, grinned at you through half-lidded eyes.

“So, how’d a Slytherin like you get mixed up with the likes of us?” he teased, lazily twirling his wand between his fingers. “You never did say, y’know.”

You smiled faintly, already preparing a half-hearted lie. “Fate, I suppose.”

But Sirius was grinning now, mischievous and sharp. “Come on,” he pressed. “I want a proper story. Surely you’ve got some deep, dark secret.”

Your breath caught slightly.

James must have felt the way you tensed beneath his touch. His fingers stilled against your sleeve, and he glanced at you, concern flaring subtly in his eyes.

But you forced a laugh, too light, too strained. “I hate to disappoint, Black,” you said, voice tight, “but I’m painfully boring.”

“Liar,” Sirius grinned, poking you in the ribs with his wand.

And then— Without meaning to— Without thinking—

You said his name.

You said it softly, a slip of the tongue, a betrayal on your lips.

“Harry.”

The room fell silent.

For a heartbeat, the only sound was the low crackle of the dying fire.

And then James stilled.

The playful glint in his eyes vanished, his fingers curling slightly in the fabric of your sleeve. You felt the tension flood his limbs—the subtle stiffening of his spine, the sudden sharpness in his breath.

He turned slowly to look at you.

“Who?” His voice was low, almost gentle.

Too gentle. Like the eye of a storm.

Your throat tightened. You opened your mouth, scrambling for a lie, but the name hung between you—raw and damning.

Sirius frowned. “Who’s Harry?”

And James— James was already staring at you, the light in his eyes splintering into something sharp, something disbelieving.

You tried to move, but his hand shot out, gripping your wrist with a force that was far too desperate.

“Wait,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Wait.”

The others were watching now, their laughter gone, eyes narrowed in confusion. But James—James wasn’t looking at them. He was only looking at you.

“Say it again,” he breathed. His voice cracked. “Who did you just say?”

You opened your mouth. Nothing came.

James’s grip tightened slightly, his knuckles white around your wrist. His voice, usually so steady, shook.

“Please.”

You felt yourself tremble. Because you couldn’t lie anymore. Not to him. Not when he was holding you like that— As if you were already slipping through his fingers.

And so you whispered it. Soft. Barely louder than a breath.

“Harry.”

The color drained from James’s face.

He dropped your wrist like it burned him, his hand falling limply to his side. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came—only a sharp breath, hitched and uneven.

“Harry,” he echoed, voice hollow.

You saw it then— The moment the pieces fit together. The realization in his eyes. The slow, devastating comprehension.

And then he was on his feet.

“James—” you started, reaching for him.

But he stumbled backward, out of reach. His chest was heaving slightly, his hands shaking at his sides.

“Don’t,” he croaked.

Sirius and Remus were on their feet now, eyes wide and confused.

“James, what the bloody hell is going on?” Sirius demanded.

But James only shook his head. He took another step back, looking at you as if he had never seen you before.

And then he turned and left.

── .✦

You found him in the Astronomy Tower.

The night was cold, the stars scattered wide and indifferent. He was leaning against the stone railing, knuckles white where his hands gripped the edge, his back to you.

“James,” you breathed softly.

He didn’t turn around. He didn’t look at you.

“Who is he?” His voice was hoarse, barely louder than a whisper.

You stared at him. The boy you loved. The boy you were going to lose.

You swallowed hard. “He’s your son.”

James stiffened. His knuckles went even whiter against the stone. For a long moment, he didn’t move.

And then he exhaled, sharp and broken.

“My son,” he repeated slowly, voice cracking. “From the future.”

You stepped toward him, cautiously, as if you might scare him off.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out,” you rasped. “I—I didn’t know how to tell you. I—”

But James spun around sharply, and his eyes—oh, his eyes.

They were wide and wild, brimming with too much emotion for one person to hold.

“You lied to me,” he choked.

You shook your head violently. “No, I didn’t—James, I didn’t lie—”

“You knew!” His voice cracked, sharp with anguish. “You knew this whole time. And you let me—” His voice broke, and he dragged a shaking hand through his hair. “You let me love you anyway.”

Your throat tightened, your heart splintering in your chest.

“James,” you whispered.

But he only stared at you, eyes glimmering with disbelief, with heartbreak.

“You’re not mine,” he rasped, voice raw. “You never were.”

You choked on a sob, closing the distance between you. Your hands cupped his face, trembling fingers brushing against his cheeks.

But when you leaned in—when you pressed your mouth against his, desperate and pleading— He didn’t kiss you back.

He only stood there, motionless, as your lips pressed against his. And when you pulled away, he was already slipping through your fingers.

But you didn’t let go. And somehow, impossibly, he didn’t either.

── .✦

There are no stars tonight—only the slow ruin of hearts breaking in real time.

You stood in the Astronomy Tower long after James had gone.

The stone railing was still warm from where his hands had been, but the boy himself—the boy with honey eyes and a wicked grin—was gone. You pressed trembling fingers against the cold stone, the ache splintering in your chest so violently you thought it might hollow you out.

And you stayed there. Even after the stars grew weary. Even after the wind bit cruelly at your skin.

Because the only thing worse than knowing James Potter might never love you again— Was knowing that he once did.

── .✦

You tried everything to make it right.

But he was gone.

He was still there, of course—still James, still a boy with fire in his chest and golden laughter in his throat. But he was no longer your James.

He stopped sitting beside you at breakfast. He stopped brushing against your arm when you walked beside him.

He didn’t meet your eyes when you passed him in the corridor. Didn’t glance at you when Sirius slung an arm around your shoulders in the common room.

It was worse than hatred. Because there was no fire in his eyes. Only distance.

And you were drowning in it.

── .✦

The Marauders noticed. Of course they did.

You were walking beside Remus one morning, heading toward Transfiguration, when he slowed his pace, falling into step beside you. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, too perceptive by half.

“You look tired,” he murmured softly.

You offered him a weak smile. “I’m fine.”

Remus sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not fine,” he countered gently, his voice low. “And he’s not fine either.”

You didn’t say anything. You only gripped your books tighter.

And Remus—Remus, who had always known how to read you—lowered his voice slightly.

“He still looks at you, you know,” he murmured, so softly it was nearly lost to the crowd.

Your throat tightened.

You didn’t ask who he meant. You didn’t have to.

── .✦

You tried. Merlin, you tried.

You cornered James in the hallway once, days later.

You didn’t think. You just grabbed his wrist as he walked by, gripping him too tightly, too desperate. His breath hitched slightly at the contact, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t meet your eyes either.

“James,” you rasped, your voice barely louder than a breath. “Please.”

You didn’t even know what you were begging for. But it didn’t matter.

Because James closed his eyes, as if you hurt him just by standing there, and carefully pried your hand from his wrist.

And he walked away without saying a word.

── .✦

You started avoiding him after that.

If he didn’t want you, you wouldn’t force him to see you. You let him have his space. You sat at the Slytherin table for meals again, pretending you didn’t feel his eyes burning into your back.

You stopped walking by the Quidditch pitch in the evenings, unwilling to watch him practice, unwilling to risk seeing him so golden and alive when you were breaking apart.

You no longer reached for him when you were cold. You no longer leaned against him in the common room. You no longer laughed when he tugged at your hair or stole the last of your pumpkin pasty.

And you told yourself it was for the best.

But oh— It hurt.

── .✦

You were going to give up.

You had almost made your peace with it. Almost.

Until that night.

── .✦

It was raining. The sort of rain that slapped against the windows in sheets, a relentless downpour that filled the corridors with a low, mournful hum.

You had been walking back from the library, exhausted and hollow-eyed, your boots heavy against the stone floor. Your hair was damp from the drizzle that had clung to you on your way back from the Owlery.

You didn’t even see him at first.

James was standing by the window at the end of the corridor, his back turned to you. His hands were braced against the sill, shoulders hunched slightly, damp curls clinging to the nape of his neck.

You should have walked away. You should have kept going.

But you didn’t.

You stood there, watching him in the half-light, letting yourself pretend for one final moment that he still belonged to you.

And then you turned. Ready to leave. Ready to walk away.

But then he spoke.

“Don’t.”

His voice was low, hoarse—so quiet you barely heard it over the rain.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat.

And slowly, slowly, James turned around.

You saw his face, and your heart splintered. Because he was staring at you the way he once did. Like he was falling. Like he was still falling.

And then he was moving. Two steps, then three— And suddenly he was right in front of you, too close, his chest heaving slightly.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. You only stared at each other— Breathless. Broken.

And then he cupped your face with trembling hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if memorizing the shape of you.

“I hate you,” he rasped.

Your throat tightened.

“I know,” you whispered brokenly.

But James shook his head sharply, his grip tightening slightly. His voice cracked, raw and uneven.

“No, you don’t,” he choked. “I hate you for making me fall in love with you, knowing you’d leave.” His breath hitched. “I hate you for letting me hold you when you already belonged to a different time.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, a sharp sob splintering in your throat. “James—”

But his hands tightened on your face, trembling slightly, pulling you closer.

“And I hate,” he whispered brokenly, forehead pressed against yours, “that I never stopped loving you.”

You let out a soft, broken sob— And then you were kissing him.

Hard. Furious. Desperate.

Your hands fisted in his robes, dragging him closer, anchoring yourself to him. And James—James was everywhere. His hands slipped into your hair, fingers tangling desperately, as if he could keep you there forever.

When you pulled away, both of you were gasping. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath uneven, his eyes burning.

“You idiot,” you whispered softly, trembling against him. “You absolute idiot. I was never going to leave you.”

James let out a low, choked sound, half-sob, half-laugh, and then he was kissing you again.

And this time— When he held you, He didn’t let go.

── .✦

You stayed. Time bent for you.

The war came. You fought beside him. You saved them all—James, Lily, Harry. The future was rewritten, the grief undone.

And when you stood with James beneath the canopy of a thousand stars, his hands holding yours, you pressed your lips to his knuckles and whispered,

“I would have loved you in every timeline, you know.”

And he smiled. Because he already knew.

── .✦

Time is not linear. It bends for love. It always does.

── .✦

You never thought you’d get to see it—the future you were fighting for.

But somehow, impossibly, you did. And it was beautiful.

── .✦

The war ended differently this time.

Voldemort fell. Not in the ruins of Godric’s Hollow or the halls of Hogwarts, but in a forest clearing, far from the children who should never have had to bleed for a future that should have been theirs.

You were there beside James. You fought with him—back to back, his voice hoarse with spells and shouted warnings, his hand reaching for yours even in the chaos.

And when it was over—when the last curse had been cast and the world stood still—James found you in the crowd.

His hands were shaking when he grabbed you. His knuckles bloodied, his robes torn, his hair damp with sweat. But his eyes were bright and wild and alive.

And he kissed you like you were oxygen. Like he had spent a lifetime holding his breath. Like he had been waiting for you across a thousand timelines.

── .✦

You stood beside him when the world was rebuilt.

You were there when Sirius was declared innocent, when he was free to walk into the sun with his head held high, grinning like a boy unburdened by ghosts.

You were there when Remus spoke softly in the quiet hours of the morning, voice trembling with hope, confessing that he had always wanted more than to simply survive.

You were there when Harry was born—alive and safe. When James held his son in his arms and cried without shame, his tears falling into the wild tufts of black hair on the baby’s head.

And you were there when James placed a trembling kiss against your temple, Harry cradled between you, and whispered,

“We did it.”

── .✦

Two years later, you were standing beside James at Lily and Severus’s wedding.

You had almost laughed when the invitation arrived. The ornate script, written in Lily’s elegant hand, had carried far too much smugness for a simple piece of parchment. The words had been formal and lovely, but you could still hear her voice in them—sweet and knowing, the subtext far too clear.

Told you so.

And now, standing in the evening glow of the wedding canopy, you watched as the girl with fire-bright hair clasped her hands with the boy who had once nearly lost her forever.

Severus stood at the altar, tall and lean, still a little stoic, still a little brooding—but there was softness in his eyes. A gentleness in the way he held Lily’s hands, his thumb brushing over her knuckles with quiet reverence.

And Lily—oh, she was radiant. Her hair was loose and wild, tumbling down her back in copper curls, adorned with tiny white flowers that twined through the strands. Her smile was bright enough to soften even Snape’s sharp edges, her eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as she gazed at him with unguarded adoration.

You glanced at James, who was watching them with a boyish grin, his arms folded lazily across his chest. His hair was windswept and unruly as always, the golden sunset catching the edges and turning them molten.

“They’re going to be insufferable about this, you know,” James murmured with a grin, leaning slightly into your side.

You hummed softly, tilting your head toward him. “Oh, absolutely. Lily will probably gloat about being right for the next decade.”

James smirked, dark eyes glinting with mischief. “Ten galleons says Snivellus cries during the vows.”

You shot him a deadpan look. “James, you can’t bet on their wedding.”

But he only grinned wider. “What, afraid you’ll lose?”

You rolled your eyes but fought a smile, elbowing him lightly in the ribs.

And when Lily walked down the aisle—when Severus turned toward her with something painfully soft in his eyes—James slipped his hand into yours.

His fingers wove between yours, warm and steady. His thumb brushed slow circles against your palm, as if he were trying to memorize the shape of your hand.

And when you glanced at him— He was already looking at you.

His eyes were dark and golden and entirely too soft, shining with something far too raw for a wedding.

And you knew. Right then. That he was thinking about every version of you he had ever lost. Every version of you he had loved.

And so you leaned over slightly, your voice barely louder than a breath.

“Stop looking at me like that, Potter,” you murmured teasingly.

James’s lips curved slightly, but his eyes didn’t soften. They only burned brighter.

“Like what?” he whispered, his voice barely louder than the breeze, laced with unmistakable reverence.

“Like you’re in love with me,” you teased softly, arching a playful brow.

And James—James smiled softly, eyes molten with warmth, voice rough with emotion.

“I am in love with you,” he whispered simply.

And then he was leaning down, brushing his lips against yours—slow and gentle, as if the whole world had slowed just for you.

── .✦

Later, when the sun had dipped below the horizon and the stars spilled carelessly across the sky, you stood in the garden with James, Harry fast asleep in his arms.

The evening was warm, the wind gentle, carrying the faint sound of music from the reception. The canopy was still aglow with golden lights, casting everything in soft, honeyed hues.

You watched as James shifted Harry carefully in his arms, his hand splayed protectively across his son’s back. The baby snuffled softly against his chest, tiny hands curled into fists, his breathing slow and steady.

You reached out, brushing a soft lock of hair from Harry’s forehead, and James glanced at you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You only stood there, bathed in the amber glow of the evening, watching the stars blink sleepily overhead.

And then James, voice barely louder than a whisper, murmured,

“Marry me.”

You froze.

Your eyes flicked to him, searching his face—certain you had misheard. But James was only looking at you softly, his eyes wide and unguarded, his voice steady despite the slight tremor in his hand.

You stared at him, your heart stuttering violently.

“James,” you breathed softly, barely able to say his name.

But he only smiled. Soft and slow and so achingly sincere.

“Marry me,” he whispered again. His voice was hoarse, barely louder than a breath. “I—I know it’s sudden. I know we’ve already stolen so much time. But—” He exhaled sharply, his voice breaking slightly. “I want this. With you. Always.”

You stared at him, your throat tightening, your eyes burning with tears you couldn’t hold back.

And when you reached for him—when your hand pressed against his cheek and you nodded, unable to speak through the lump in your throat—James let out a shaky, disbelieving breath.

And he kissed you.

Soft and trembling and impossibly tender, tasting of hope and home and every version of you he had ever loved.

And you kissed him back— Knowing that this time, In this life, You were his forever.

── .✦

Love is timeless. It does not belong to one lifetime. It exists across all of them.

── .✦

You were trembling.

Not with fear, not exactly. But with something bigger. Something heavier.

The morning sun spilled through the enormous windows of the bridal suite, bathing everything in soft, golden hues. You stood barefoot on the cool stone floor, wrapped in a silk dressing gown, staring at your reflection in the floor-length mirror.

Your fingers were cold. Your knees felt a little weak.

You were getting married. To James Potter.

And somehow, the thought made it harder to breathe.

Not because you were afraid. But because the weight of happiness pressed so fiercely against your chest, you thought it might shatter you.

── .✦

“Are you trying to hyperventilate, or does that just come naturally?”

You glanced over your shoulder to find Bellatrix standing in the doorway, one dark brow arched, her lips curled into a smirk.

She was stunning, as always, dressed in elegant silver robes that caught the morning light, the fabric shimmering faintly as she stepped into the room. Her black curls tumbled in perfect, wicked waves down her back, and her eyes glimmered with mischief.

But when she saw the trembling in your hands, the playful glint softened slightly.

“Hey,” she murmured, striding over, her voice low and surprisingly gentle. She took your hands in hers, squeezing them slightly. “You’re all right.”

You let out a shaky breath, laughing weakly. “I feel like I might pass out.”

Bellatrix’s lips twitched faintly. “I mean, if you want to cause a scene at your own wedding, be my guest. Would be pretty dramatic. Very on brand.”

You let out a watery laugh, squeezing her hands.

And then you felt a soft hand on your shoulder.

Narcissa appeared beside you, her pale blonde hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders. She was elegant and ethereal, dressed in ice-blue robes that brought out the sharp cut of her eyes. But her voice, as always, was soft.

“You look beautiful,” she murmured, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face.

You swallowed thickly, your throat tightening.

And then there was Lily.

She stepped into the room, her auburn hair glimmering with tiny pearls woven into the braid that circled her crown. Her smile was impossibly bright, her eyes warm with too much emotion.

She held up a handkerchief dramatically. “Don’t even think about crying yet,” she teased, her voice trembling slightly despite her playful tone. “Save it for the aisle, or I swear, I’ll hex you.”

You let out a strangled laugh, already blinking back tears.

And when the three of them crowded around you—Bellatrix playfully poking at your hair, Narcissa fastening the delicate bracelet around your wrist, and Lily brushing a bit of gloss onto your lips—you felt the trembling in your hands finally still.

── .✦

The music began to play.

You stood at the edge of the garden, your hands trembling slightly around the bouquet of white lilies and wildflowers. The sun was warm against your face, the sky a soft, cloudless blue, the air perfumed with the scent of roses and honeysuckle.

And then— Harry, your precious little ring bearer, toddled out onto the stone pathway.

He was dressed in a tiny, perfectly tailored black suit, with his wild black hair sticking up in every possible direction. He held the little velvet pillow in his small hands, his bright green eyes wide with delight as the crowd let out a collective coo.

When he spotted you standing in the archway, his face split into a gap-toothed grin, and he squealed,

“Mummy!”

You let out a watery laugh, your chest tightening painfully.

But when you finally took that first step— When you slowly made your way down the aisle, surrounded by the people you loved— Your eyes found only one person.

James.

And oh, he was already crying.

You saw him before he saw you. Standing there at the end of the aisle, dressed in tailored black dress robes, the collar slightly askew, his hair hopelessly messy in that perfectly disheveled way. His hands were trembling faintly at his sides, his lips parted slightly as he stared at you.

And when his eyes finally met yours— His breath caught audibly in his throat.

You saw the moment it hit him. The moment he realized that this was real. That he wasn’t dreaming. That you were walking toward him— To be his. Forever.

And then he let out a sharp, uneven breath, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears. He dragged a hand roughly through his hair, laughing wetly through the emotion clogging his throat.

Sirius, standing beside him, smirked and clapped him roughly on the back, grinning smugly. “Told you you’d cry, mate.”

James sniffled, his voice breaking slightly. “Shut up, Pads.”

And then his eyes were back on you.

And he was beaming. Like he was seeing the sun for the first time. Like he was falling in love with you all over again.

You barely remembered walking the rest of the way. All you could see was him.

And when you finally reached him—when he took your trembling hands in his—you felt your whole chest constrict.

Because he was crying so softly, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles as if he were trying to memorize the shape of you. His hands were warm and trembling, his voice rough with emotion.

“You’re so beautiful,” he choked, voice barely louder than a breath. His eyes burned fiercely, glassy and golden. “You’re—you’re so beautiful, love.”

You let out a watery laugh, squeezing his hands.

And then the vows came.

James was shaking slightly when he slipped the ring onto your finger. His voice cracked halfway through the words, and he let out a shaky, breathless laugh, blinking rapidly.

His hands were warm, his eyes glassy and reverent as he whispered the words against your knuckles.

“I choose you,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I’ll always choose you. In every time, in every life. It’s you.”

And when you pressed your trembling lips to his—when you felt his hands tighten desperately at your waist, holding you as though you might slip away—you knew.

That you had never belonged to just one lifetime. You had belonged to all of them. To him. Always.

── .✦

Later, when the sun was low and the garden was alight with golden lanterns, you stood with James in the orchard.

The reception carried on behind you—the clinking of glasses and soft laughter drifting through the night—but James didn’t seem to care.

He had abandoned his tie long ago, and his hair was a mess of unruly curls, golden in the lantern glow. His arms were wrapped around you, holding you too tightly, as if he was still afraid you might disappear.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered playfully against your ear, his voice low and honeyed, pressing soft kisses against your neck.

You smiled against his shoulder. “I was always yours.”

James pulled back slightly, eyes dark and molten. His voice softened, barely louder than a breath.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he whispered hoarsely.

And when you kissed him beneath the canopy of golden lights, with the stars spilling wide and endless above you, James Potter held you like he had loved you across a thousand timelines.

Because he had. And he always would.

── .✦

Time had bent for you. It had splintered and unraveled and stitched itself back together just to bring you here— Into his arms. Where you were always meant to be.

── .✦

The stars were burning softly above the orchard, spilling across the inky blackness in glimmering constellations, as if the entire universe had come to witness the ending of your story.

Or rather, the beginning of it.

Because you weren’t running anymore. You weren’t slipping between timelines or losing yourself to fate. You were here—rooted firmly in this life, this time, with James Potter’s hands tangled in yours.

And Merlin, he was still looking at you like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

── .✦

The reception was still alive behind you—laughter and music floating lazily through the orchard. Golden lanterns swung gently from the low branches, casting honeyed light over the dark grass.

But James didn’t seem to notice any of it.

You were his whole world.

His tie was long discarded, and his robes hung loosely around him, a few buttons undone at his collar. His hair—already unruly from the hours of dancing—was an utter mess, windswept and falling into his eyes in hopeless curls.

He was absolutely breathtaking.

And he was holding you too tightly, like he still wasn’t entirely convinced you were real.

“Merlin, I can’t stop looking at you,” he murmured, his voice rough with something deeper than reverence. His thumb brushed slowly over the back of your hand. “You’re so—bloody hell, look at you.”

You let out a breathless laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. “You’re making me sound like some divine vision, Potter,” you teased softly.

James’s lips curved slightly, but his eyes softened with something almost dangerous—something entirely too raw and reverent.

“Because you are,” he murmured, his voice so low it made your skin flush.

Your breath caught slightly at the weight of his words. At the warmth in his eyes. At the softness in his touch.

And then—because you were helpless against him—you reached up, brushing your fingers softly through his windswept hair. You let the tips of your fingers trail down the side of his face, tracing the sharp edge of his jaw.

James’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment. His breath stuttered slightly, the warmth of it fanning against your wrist.

And when he opened them again— His eyes were dark. Molten. Utterly ruined by you.

── .✦

You didn’t know how long you stood there, swaying slightly in the golden lamplight. You didn’t know how many times James pressed his lips to your knuckles, as if trying to memorize the feel of you in his hands.

But you knew that you weren’t in a hurry.

You let him pull you close, let him bury his face against your neck, breathing you in like you were air. His arms were loose around your waist, his thumbs slipping beneath the fabric of your dress, brushing slow, idle circles against the small of your back.

And when you shifted slightly in his arms, leaning into him— James let out a low, breathless sound that made your skin flush beneath the fabric of your dress.

── .✦

“Dance with me,” he murmured against your ear, his breath warm against your throat.

You let out a breathless laugh. “James, there’s no music out here.”

But he only pulled back slightly, his eyes glimmering with boyish mischief. “Since when do I need music to dance with my wife?”

The word wife sent a shiver down your spine, settling warm and heavy in your chest. And he must have seen it in your eyes. Because James’s lips curled into a wicked grin.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” he murmured, voice low and teasing, his nose brushing lightly against yours. “You like being my wife.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, rolling your eyes. “I suppose it has its perks,” you teased lightly.

James’s grin widened, his voice a low, playful rasp. “Oh, does it?”

And then he was spinning you in the dim light of the orchard, twirling you beneath the canopy of golden lanterns, his hands warm and steady in yours.

You laughed breathlessly as he tugged you close, arms winding securely around you. You pressed your face against his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat settle against your cheek.

And James— James pressed his lips against your temple, his voice a low, lazy drawl.

“You’re stuck with me now,” he murmured playfully against your hair, his hands sliding slowly, reverently over your back. “No take-backs. You married me. It’s legally binding and everything.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, tilting your head back to meet his eyes. And Merlin, he was still looking at you with so much love it made your knees weak.

“Oh, I think I’ll manage,” you teased lightly, brushing your fingertips over the back of his neck.

James’s eyes glimmered with warmth, but his voice softened, barely louder than a breath.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered reverently, as if saying it too loudly would shatter you. His thumb traced along your cheekbone, eyes dark with awe. “You’re—you’re so bloody beautiful, love.”

You leaned into his touch, your lips parting softly.

And then he was kissing you.

Softly at first. Slow and reverent, his lips barely brushing over yours— As if he were still tasting the promise of forever on your mouth.

But then— Then the kiss deepened.

James’s hands slid lower, gripping your waist tightly, pulling you flush against him. You let out a soft, surprised gasp, and James swallowed the sound with a low, breathless hum, his lips dragging over yours with slow, teasing purpose.

His fingers splayed over the small of your back, slipping just beneath the fabric of your dress, his touch impossibly warm. He pressed you closer, as if he could make you a part of him— As if he were still afraid you might slip through his fingers.

“Merlin, I love you,” he rasped against your lips, his voice low and uneven, hoarse with longing. His teeth grazed your bottom lip slightly, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

And oh— You were trembling slightly in his arms. Not with nervousness. But with want.

And James— James, who had always been golden and mischievous and utterly smitten— Noticed immediately.

His eyes darkened slightly. His lips parted faintly, breath uneven.

“Love,” he murmured lowly, his voice rough around the edges, “if you keep looking at me like that, I might do something utterly indecent at our wedding reception.”

You let out a breathless laugh, cheeks flushing faintly. “Oh? That’s unlike you, Potter,” you teased, your voice barely louder than a murmur.

And James— Oh, he grinned wickedly, lowering his mouth to your ear.

“You have no idea, Mrs. Potter.”

His voice was a low rasp, his lips grazing the shell of your ear with slow, torturous reverence. His breath was warm against your skin, and his fingers—Merlin, his fingers were dangerously slow as they traced teasing circles along your spine.

Your breath caught slightly, your heart hammering violently in your chest. And James—James only grinned wider.

“Shall we sneak away, love?” he murmured silkily, brushing a teasing kiss against your throat, lips warm and deliberate. “Or do I have to suffer through another hour of dancing with respectable people before I get you all to myself?”

You laughed softly, breathless, your cheeks warm and flushed.

And when you leaned up on your toes, brushing your lips teasingly against his, you whispered,

“Take me home, Mr. Potter.”

And James— James smiled against your lips, utterly ruined by you. Because you already were. You always had been. His home.

── .✦

The universe had been cruel. It had torn you from your timeline, stripped you from the arms of the people you loved, and scattered you across history. But in return— It gave you this. Him. Them. A future you had never dared to dream of.

── .✦

The cottage was small, but it was yours.

Tucked away in the countryside, hidden behind sprawling fields of wildflowers and enchanted thickets, it stood like something out of a dream. The stone walls were weathered but sturdy, honey-gold in the morning sun. The windows were always open, letting in the scent of lavender and fresh-cut grass, and the chimney was forever puffing lazy ribbons of smoke into the sky.

It wasn’t grand. It wasn’t a manor. But it was warm and worn and safe. And it was home.

── .✦

You awoke slowly to the feel of warm, slightly chapped lips pressing soft, lazy kisses along your shoulder.

You let out a drowsy sigh, rolling over slightly to meet James’s half-lidded gaze. His hair was an absolute mess—dark and rumpled and deliciously wild against the pillows. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, golden in the morning light, and he was looking at you like you were the first sunrise he had ever seen.

“Morning, Mrs. Potter,” he murmured hoarsely, voice thick with sleep, his lips brushing lightly over the tip of your nose.

You smiled faintly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Morning, Mr. Potter.”

James let out a soft, contented hum, burying his face into the curve of your neck. His arms tightened slightly around your waist, pulling you closer, as if the entire bed were too big without you in his arms.

“Mmm, don’t move,” he grumbled drowsily, his voice muffled against your skin. “You’re warm. Stay right here. Forever.”

You let out a sleepy laugh, running your fingers lazily through the thick curls at the nape of his neck.

But then— A loud crash echoed from the hallway, followed by the unmistakable sound of something heavy hitting the floor.

You and James froze.

Then— The distinct sound of tiny, gleeful giggles.

James groaned dramatically, his face still buried against your throat. “Your son is a menace,” he mumbled, voice muffled with mock exhaustion.

You smiled, brushing your lips lightly against the crown of his head. “Our son,” you corrected softly, but there was nothing but adoration in your voice.

James let out a low, exaggerated groan, flopping onto his back. “Merlin help me.”

And then the bedroom door burst open.

“Da!! Mummy!!”

Harry, still in his little blue pajamas, came sprinting into the room, clutching a suspiciously bent toy broom in one hand. His wild black hair was an absolute disaster—sticking up in every possible direction, an adorable replica of his father’s morning mess. His green eyes were wide with childish delight, a bright, mischievous grin tugging at his tiny lips.

He launched himself onto the bed with absolutely no regard for either of you.

James let out a low oof as Harry pounced onto his chest, sprawling over him with all the elegance of a baby thestral.

“Merlin’s beard, Prongs Junior!” James groaned dramatically, mock-gasping for air. “You’re going to break my ribs, you absolute menace.”

But Harry only grinned wider, clearly unimpressed with his father’s suffering, and bounced gleefully on James’s chest.

James made a loud, strangled, dying-man sort of sound, throwing his head back with mock agony. “Darling!! Help me! Our son is trying to murder me!”

You arched a brow, lips twitching. “Oh no,” you deadpanned flatly. “How tragic.”

James shot you an utterly betrayed look, gaping at you like you had personally destroyed his soul.

“You betrayed me, wife?” he gasped, clutching his chest dramatically.

Harry squealed with delight at his father’s theatrics, utterly oblivious to James’s Oscar-worthy performance of a man meeting his untimely end.

You simply shook your head with mock solemnity, rolling your eyes. “Potter, you’re being outwitted by a four-year-old.”

James stared at you, lips twitching with mock indignation, then turned his attention back to the tiny boy currently using him as a human trampoline.

“Oi, you,” he gasped weakly at Harry, voice hoarse with false agony. “Don’t you want to save your dear old dad? Be my hero? My knight in shining armor?”

Harry only giggled maniacally, gripping his bent broomstick and declaring with great importance, “I’m gonna be a seeker!”

James let out a soft, incredulous laugh, eyes bright with warmth.

“Merlin, you’re going to give me a heart attack,” he muttered, ruffling his son’s hair fondly. But he was grinning like a fool, eyes glimmering with a ridiculous amount of pride.

You watched them quietly for a moment. James. Harry. Your entire world pressed into the same bed, giggling beneath the golden morning light.

And just for a moment— You allowed yourself to pretend you had always belonged here.

── .✦

The fireplace roared suddenly with green flames, and in strolled Sirius Black, entirely uninvited.

“Prongs!” Sirius barked cheerfully, arms flung wide as if announcing his arrival to a crowd of thousands. “I come bearing whiskey, terrible advice, and absolutely no concept of personal boundaries!”

James’s grin widened immediately. “Now there’s my responsible fatherhood role model.”

You groaned softly, covering your face with one hand. “Oh no.”

But it was already too late.

Sirius strolled into the living room like he owned the place, his black hair tousled in artful disarray, a cocky grin tugging at his lips. He bent down dramatically, ruffling Harry’s hair with enough force to make the boy squeal with delighted laughter.

“Look at you, little menace!” Sirius crowed, plucking Harry off the ground with exaggerated flair, tossing him lightly in the air. “Merlin, you’re almost as big as your old man.”

Harry squealed gleefully, grabbing at Sirius’s hair with tiny fists.

James’s eyes widened slightly. “Oi, gently, Padfoot!” he barked, though he was grinning far too widely to be genuinely concerned.

But before James could intervene, Remus strolled in through the front door, already exuding the aura of the only sane person in the room.

He shook his head fondly, running a hand through his sandy hair. “Honestly, I don’t know why I still expect you lot to act like responsible adults.”

Sirius snorted loudly, tossing Harry lightly onto the couch with a dramatic flourish.

“Responsible adults?” he sneered with mock outrage, planting a hand on his chest. “I’ll have you know, Moony, I once drank half a bottle of Fire whiskey, dueled a goblin, and convinced a centaur to let me ride him through the Forbidden Forest—all in the same night.”

Remus arched a brow, utterly unimpressed. “You also got a month’s detention and lost two teeth, if I recall correctly.”

Sirius’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s slander, Lupin. Absolute slander.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, watching them fondly. And for a moment— Just for a moment— You forgot that they had once been nothing but memories. Phantom faces in a future you could no longer reach. For now, they were here. They were real. And Merlin, you held on to them like they might slip through your fingers.

── .✦

The cottage was silent that evening—Harry long since tucked into bed, his tiny hands clutching the worn stag plush James had gifted him.

You stood by the window, staring out at the endless black, your breath fogging the glass.

And when you closed your eyes, you could see them.

Ron, throwing his head back in laughter, eyes glinting with boyish mischief. Hermione’s soft, steady voice as she carefully unwound the impossible knots of the world with quiet brilliance. And Harry—your Harry— Older. Burdened. Carrying too much weight for one boy.

You pressed your palm lightly to the windowpane, as if you could reach through the glass and touch the life you left behind.

But it was James who found you. Always.

You didn’t hear him enter the room. But you felt his arms slip around you from behind, warm and familiar. Without a word, he pressed his lips softly to your shoulder.

“Can’t sleep, darling?” he murmured softly, voice low and sleep-rough.

You swallowed thickly, leaning back into him, your fingers tangling loosely with his.

“Just thinking,” you whispered faintly.

James was quiet for a moment. And then— He squeezed you a little tighter.

“About them?” he asked softly, no accusation in his voice. Only understanding.

You nodded, your breath hitching slightly. And James— He pressed his lips against the curve of your jaw, his voice barely louder than a breath.

“You don’t have to forget them, my love,” he murmured, softly, reverently. “You just have to keep living.”

And you let him hold you. Because somehow, James knew how to make the grief feel a little softer. A little quieter. Like something you could carry, rather than be crushed beneath.

── .✦

The evening was soft and golden, the fire crackling faintly in the hearth. James was slouched in the armchair, legs dangling lazily over the side, a book balanced haphazardly on his chest. His hair was a complete mess, dark curls tumbling over his forehead.

You sat on the couch with your legs tucked beneath you, an old quilt draped over your lap, fingers absentmindedly running over the worn fabric.

The room was quiet, save for the occasional flutter of parchment as James absentmindedly flipped a page.

Then— Without warning, James’s voice broke the silence.

“Do you ever regret it?” he asked softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

You blinked, looking over at him, your breath catching slightly at the softness in his eyes.

“Regret what?” you asked faintly, though you already knew.

James’s eyes didn’t leave yours. “Staying,” he murmured, voice quiet and earnest. “Choosing me. Choosing this life.”

Your chest tightened slightly at the rawness in his voice—the quiet, vulnerable plea behind his words.

You were silent for a long moment. And then— You rose slowly from the couch, padding across the room and climbing into his lap.

James’s arms wound around you immediately, pulling you closer, holding you like he was still afraid you might slip away.

You pressed your lips softly to his temple, voice low and trembling with certainty.

“Never,” you whispered fiercely. “Not for a second.”

James let out a breathless sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

And he held you. And you held him back. And the life you left behind—the one you would always carry with you—felt a little lighter, a little softer.

Because here, in this time, In this life, You were home.

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wings-of-ink · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 5 is finally here!

Tumblr crew, please let me know right away if you see any issues with running the game. I *think* I fixed the issue with fonts not changing but I did the upload a different way so I'm paranoid. It works for me though.

This was a big one – do not anticipate your saves working. Such is the nature of a work-in-progress. Some of the code for early chapters had to change. I do apologize, I know it's a lot of content to click through.

I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know if you find any serious problems/errors – especially ones that break the game. I have tested it myself a few times, but I can only do so much on my own. I will be watching Tumblr closely for a bit, so if there are any urgent issues you can pop them into my ask-inbox.

This chapter was written using a different method. Mostly, it worked out for me and helped me find more typos and grammar issues, but I found more programming errors than normal. My hope is that all the major ones have been resolved. A game-breaking issue was found just this morning and took a few hours to resolve (it was a mess so I redid the entire section - peeps, if you see issues in the moment with Zahn let me know because they were my troublemaker, go figure).

A couple of new trigger warnings were added as well, so be sure to peruse the list if you may have areas of sensitivity. In the future, a couple of areas of this chapter may receive options to bypass segments with certain difficult content, so be advised that these do not have a skip function enabled currently.

Coming in the future…

Lunan is taking a break through the end of the year! I will still be monitoring Tumblr, answering questions, and resolving any technical issues of course. But I will not be writing chapter content. Some short extras may be posted in the meantime to Tumblr.

Each chapter will get a passage-by-passage check for typos and grammar issues before the release of Chapter 6.

A chapter skip function will be arranged so you can bypass content you've already read. This will likely be implemented before or with Chapter 6.

The release time for Chapter 6 is currently unknown but estimated for late Spring of 2025 (March-May *ish).

The Patreon will likely start up in January 2025 and will focus on early releases of new content and extras/POVs (including the spicy kind).

Thank you so much for sticking with me. I hope you enjoy this chapter and have fun with it!

~Lunan ^_^

PS: Also let me know if you find weird stuff in there that might be from testing, lol. I think I deleted all that stuff, but I am more than a little bit frazzled today and there is a real possibility that I left some garbage behind...

Itch.io Link:

#god cursed if #asks #twine if #if wip #twine wip #interactive novel #if game #interactive fiction #cyoa #cyoa game #amare game #amare #I have earned my nap today #game update #chapter update

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kisblle · 4 months ago

Text

Quenched

Pairing piece to Starved - you can find here -

https://www.tumblr.com/kisblle/769006797246840832/starved?source=share

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Author's Note: For some reason I LOVE imagining High Honor Arthur so confused, awkward, and utterly obsessed with women - especially after your last rendesvouz with him *wink wink.* If you haven't read the first part, I highly encourage you to read it as I have it tagged above (I apoligize for the ugly link, I'm still trying to figure out Tumbr.) I've had the first part of this written for sometime now, but for the past few weeks I've been going back and forth between several other Arthur fan fictions I've been wanting to write, and I finally got around to finishing this one. So all in all, enjoy!

PS: My 2019 Macbook air decided to stop spell checking for me, so please give me a break on any errors present.

Summary: It's your turn.

Warning: MDNI, graphic sexual contact, oral sex

It was no secret that Arthur liked to wander.

And for the past several days he had been wandering over New Hanover doing absolutely nothing but trying to shake the thought of you.

Shot a rabbit once or twice, caught a couple fish near Owanjila, bought a treasure map off of a so called “adventurer.” But nothing seemed to cure him from the incessant memory that was you with his cock down your throat.

Now, as Arthur kicked pebbles down the Dakota River, a budding erection forming in his work jeans, he couldn’t help but to feel guilty. Arthur was no saint, and Hell would have to freeze over before he called himself one, but he knew the difference between right and wrong.

The cowboy knew you weren’t some cheap pair of legs he had bought at the saloon. He didn’t pay for your company, everything you did was out of your own free will. And perhaps that’s why he felt so guilty. Because when you stared at him, with that god awful grin plastered on your face, he didn’t take your hand and throw you on the cot with him.

He didn’t return the favor.

And now that’s all he dreamt of.

Your sweet juices pouring down his stubble as your delicate hands roamed through his hair. His tongue dancing against your sweet cunt as he looked up at your disheveled face. Your legs tightening around his neck in such pleasure that you were forced to moan into a pillow to silence yourself.

The thought itself turned him mad.

The cowboy let out an exuberant huff, realizing what he had to do. Whistling for his Turkoman, he jumps on the back of his mare, riding swiftly to Horseshoe Overlook as the sun falls below the horizon.

“Good to see you Arthur,” Hosea chimes as the gunslinger enters back into camp, slinging his saddle across the hitching post with a loud thump.

But the outlaw ignores his mentor.

Like a man on a mission, Arthur's sharp eyes scan the camp until they land on you standing by the fire, a half-drunk beer in hand. His stomach tightens as he watches Sean tell a joke, the small crowd, including you, erupting into a deafening roar of laughter.

Without another thought, the cowboy stalks towards the crowded campfire, placing himself silently beside you, doing his best to remain unnoticed. With a shaky exhale, he drags his calloused pinky across the side of your hand inconspicously, desperate to divert your attention from ostentatious irishman.

Like rain on a cool summer day, Arthur's heart pitter-patters inside his chest when your eyes widen in realization, meeting his with a dumbfounded gaze. His stomach nearly dropping as your lips gently part, just as they had for him in privacy all those days ago.

“Mr. Morgan,” you whisper in acknowledgment, a knowing grin tugging at your lips.

As your sultry gaze met his, Arthur had gone mute.

What was he supposed to say?

As if his vocal chords had been ripped out as a form of torture, the best he could choke out was, "I....You....Sorry."

Your brows furrow in confusion, tilting your head as if you were trying to decipher his mess of words.

Arthur attempts again, only for another string of nonsensical babble to spill from his lips. Frustrated, he lets out a curse under his breath before grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the drunken commotion without another word.

"Arthur?" You're able to drawl, awkwardly stumbling behind the cowboy as he swiftly drags you across camp, his hand fiercely attached to yours like a predator to prey. "Arthur!" You innocently laugh as he pulls you into the closed quarters of your private abode. "What'r doin'?"

The cowboy rapidly pulls down the flap of your canvas tent, turning to you with a scowl etched on his face. He grabs both your hands into his own, and opens his mouth in any attempt to just speak his mind. But once again, he is only able to choke out a string of meaningless rabble. In frustration, he drops your hands and quickly rubs his temples before falling onto his knees in front of you, not breaking your gaze.

And with a clear, desperate message, he hoarsely breaths, "Let me." Just as you had done days before.

Arthur's cock hardens as you look down at him, biting your lip out of seduction and bobbing your head up and down with a definite yes. He lets out an exhale of relief, quickly standing back up and instantly crashing his lips into yours without a second thought.

It was if God himself had given Arthur the ability to speak again as between kisses he is able to muster, "you've driven me mad." His hands reach up to cup the backs up your thighs, easily lifting you off the ground and setting you in your cot so your legs easily hang off the side. As if he were a godly man, he falls onto his knees in front of you with every ounce of prowess running through his veins.

You prop yourself up on your forearms, watching the man make slow work of the laces on your boots, refusing to loose eye contact as he slips your shoes off and neatly places them under your cot. "You've turned me into dog, woman," he confesses, shaking his head in utter fascination.

You push yourself to a sitting position, "Oh, Arthur," you yearn, knowing that for days, months, years, that this moment is what you had dreamt off.

You cup his chin in your hands as he stares deep into your soul, making work of your socks as he stares back at you, completely in awe of the beautiful creature in front him. He grabs your right leg, his calloused finger pulling them to his lips where he lands several soft kisses. Only stopping to inhale your sweet scent; worshipping you as if you were an ancient goddess.

You shudder as you fall onto your forearms, your head tilting down as you watch the cowboy hike your skirt onto your hips and place tender kisses upwards towards your thigh. His right hand, tensly gripping your left leg outward as you tilt your head up in pleasure

His stubble gently pokes at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, taking his right hand and slowly pulling down your bloomers, tossing them into the corner of your tent without care. His hands find their way to your thighs, cocking your legs outward to him as if you were his to feast on.

Dumbfounded, the cowboy remains silent for several moments, admiring you bare cunt as if it were a prized painting hanging in The Louvre. "S'beautiful," he whispers.

Before letting himself touch you, he looks up at you one final time for that permission he so desperately wishes you to grant him. His eyes widen like the grand canyon, so intrigued and hypnotized by your body that he would do anything at your command.

You bite your lip seductively with a small grin, taking that as his permission to rub his lips up your thighs one more time before dragging his tongue up your seam.

His delicate, crystal orbs refuse to break eye contact as his lips connect with that bundle of nerves he knows every woman enjoys, simultaneously hauling both your legs up onto his broad shoulders.

With another hitched breath, your chin tilts upwards to the top of the tent out of gratification, slowly exhaling as his mouth works you. "Look at me," the gunslinger commands against the warmth of your cunt, his tongue rocking back and forth in steady beat.

You swallow and peer back down, his eyes already glued to yours as he observes every hitched breath and moan leave your lips, still pleasurably feasting your core.

Arthur couldn't help but to feel like the luckiest man alive as he tastes you, your sweet juices melting down his stubble as his cock twitches below his jeans. Your hands find his chestnut locks, gripping his shoulder length hair into your palms, gently pulling at the strands every which way. You fingers twist through his mane, just as he had fantasized days priors.

But Arthur was a greedy man; he wanted more.

He lifts your legs off of his shoulders, taking your right thigh into his left hand and pushing it outward on the cot. With his tongue still deligating your bundle of nerves, he thrusts his right index finger into your core almost without warning, causing you to loudly exhale.

But that wasn't enough.

He enters his middle finger, curling his two digits upwards as he gently hits that sweet spot of yours.

You were helpless at that point.

You let out a loud, pleasurable moan as his fingers rocked back and forth, his tongue violently massaging you, his blue eyes glued to your blush ladden face.

Arthur can't help but to smile into the warmth of your cunt, knowing that he was doing a good job at every loud moan that escaped your mouth.

"Gotta keep quiete girl," he's able to assemble, quickly grabbing the small pillow off the head of your cot and placing it over your mouth, barely missing a beat of his tongue.

You hold the pillow to your mouth, hiding the sweet sounds of Arthur's accomplishments as he continues to work at you.

Second by second you can feel yourself heading towards your finish, his tongue licking back and forth as if it was dancing to a steady beat, his fingers pushing in and out of you as if his life depended on it.

Almost without warning, your hips jut upward at his mouth like a feral animal in heat as even the pillow you hold barely hides the loud, wreckless moans of your finish. The feeling of your rapidly beating heart, pumps below your belt as sweat perperates down your forehead.

Arthur's tongue doesn't leave your cunt until both your legs are cocked open lifelessly to him, your breath finally evening out as you sprawl across the cot, utterly spent.

The cowboy stands up, proudly surverying his work. Taking his sleeve and wiping off your juices from his chin, the sweet taste of you still echoing on his taste buds. His cock rock hard behind the thin fabric of his jeans.

But just as you did to him days prior, he smiles at you and turns to the flap of your tent without antoher word.

"Wait," you call out.

The cowboy turns around, his brows raising in intrigue.

And you say the words he couldn't.

"Stay."

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #red dead smut #arthur morgan #red dead redemption two

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memoirofasparklemuff1n · 5 months ago

Note

omg just read ur long sleeves fix it was sSOOOO GOOD! if u write part 2 i will be tuned in & reading ☝️☝️

i miss you, i'm sorry- r.c. x reader

part 2 of long sleeves!!!

OMGG IM SOO GLAD YOU LIKED IT <3

warnings: swearing angst (?) mention of drugs, rehab, and reader is so fucking codependent, like girl?? anyway, this is horrible y’all i cannot for the life of me write a happy ending so i tried my best 😞 can you tell i’m depressed LMAOOO? YALL SHES DEPRESSED TOO 😔 but seriously if i could make it happier hmu, i won’t get mad i promise. i’m new at this whole writing thing 🤠 not proofread cuz i wanted to post this already so tell me if there are big mistakes and my first language isn’t english so sorry if there are errors

disclaimer: the reader's depression is based on my own experiences, everybody is different and what i might go through isn't the same as what another person goes through. with that said, if you find any of these topics triggering, i understand! so, please always take care of yourself <3

ps: sorry this took so long, i've just been busy with school and my dad has been sick for a few days now so i haven't had time.

I'M ALSO HALFWAY DONE THROUGH THE FLASHBACKS FOR NO BODY, NO CRIME. i just haven't had the time fml. hopefully tomorrow 🤞. ok enough whining and into the story 🥁

want it, so i got it, did it, so it's done

making the bed started playing and the first line felt like a punch to the gut. i hated when life kicked you when you were already down.

i quickly changed to a cheery workout playlist that felt more mocking, in a sense, but decided it was better to not relate to the lyrics than listening to my despair sing back to me.

after that day in tannyhill, i'd decided to start running at night. in a silly way i thought that maybe running would burn away my pain in a healthy way. though how healthy running on barely any sleep, with nothing but depressive thoughts in my brain, was beyond me.

still, at least this way i felt like i was doing something. that i was taking action instead of moping. that doesn't make any sense. ugh, shut the fuck up. i really didn't know whose side i was on half the time.

the night sky was clear, making the stars wink at me as if they knew something i didn't. the sea breeze caressed my face, combing its fingers through my hair and drying away my tears.

running equated crying but by the time i got home i would be so exhausted that i couldn't even think. which was, of course, the ultimate goal. not think of him.

six months had passed and it didn't hurt any less. on the contrary, all i could think was how i'd abandoned him. probably when he needed me the most. two weeks after our breakup, sarah called me to tell me that rafe was terribly sick and they were taking him to the hospital. i'd debated whether i should tell her what had happened but she then said that she was aware of the situation and that i shouldn't go see him. she was only letting me know and, in a way, it felt like she was blaming me.

that was the last time i had contact with the camerons, town gossip and my mother becoming the only ties left between us. he'd gone to rehab and was apparently taking better care of himself, his family supporting him every step of the way.

fucking hypocrites. ward never cared when i told him about his son's addiction, instead saying that i should keep quiet, that everything would be okay. rose only cared about new shopping places to spend the family's money. sarah had started spending time with her new boyfriend and barely came home and wheezie was far too young.

so that left me. it had always been me, but when word got out of how bad rafe he was, they then played the card of ignorance and became the holy family.

i took a deep breath and slowed down to a jog, unaware of where the fuck i was. i looked at my surroundings for the first time and of course, i was in front of tannyhill. the gates were close but i could hear muffled voices on the other side. stepping closer to listen like the eavesdropper i was.

i looked through the bars of the gate, only to see him or well his back. he was with ward, who was lowering another suitcase to the ground. i frowned but i then heard his voice saying my name.

Ward turned his head sharply in his direction, "you are not seeing her again, alright? she's the one that got you into this mess in the first place." oh so the asshole blamed me.

he turned to face his dad and i gasped. his hair was buzzed and he looked older, healthier. he looked good but i couldn't help but feel like this was a different person entirely. i felt a slight pang in my chest because i'd been the one who had insisted on him leaving his hair longer and now he'd erased that too.

his voice interrumpted my thoughts, "dad, that is not true and you know it." why was he defending me? in a way what ward said was true. i'd left him alone that night.

his father stepped closer to him and put his hands on his son’s shoulders, “son, trust me when I tell you that it is best for you to stay away from her. don’t set yourself up for disappointment. We know where that led you.” Ward then kissed his forehead like one did to a child in a condescending manner.

Ward then picked up the suitcases left and turned to enter the house, leaving him standing there with a strange expression on his face. He lifted his gaze and somehow found mine, like they always did. I’d forgotten how we always sensed the other, no matter how much time had passed. My heartbeat sped up, causing me to quickly turn around and ran away from him as fast as I could.

“He is such a good father to those kids, especially Rafe.” Vanessa, my mother’s friend said, swooning over ward. Like god, he’s married, get a life.

Either way it seemed like every corner of this island is haunted. Ever since he’d come back as a stellar young man, all the women at the country club started obsessing over him, but more so his father. They practically held him as a saint and it only made my blood boil.

I felt my mothers gaze on me when his name was mentioned, noting the way I flinched and seemed particularly interested in the half eaten strawberries on my plate. They continued to chatter, causing me to tune them out and look at my surroundings for a distraction. Big mistake.

The doors had opened as if on cue, and there he was with a new found confidence that was unfamiliar to me. Before I could look away his eyes found mine, quieting everything around me, dèjá vu flooding my body. We looked at each other for what seemed an eternity until ward came up behind him, clapping his hand on his shoulder to turn him away from me. The colder version of his son’s eyes bore into mine in a warning. Stay away from him.

I looked back down at my plate no longer interested in my food. My eyes welled up and I knew that if i stayed a minute longer on this table I would start sobbing or worse.

“Mom? I’m not feeling well so I’m going home,” my voice quiet in her ear and she realized what I meant.

She nodded, “take the car, ok?”

“It’s ok, I can walk home.” I needed to clear my head and driving wasn’t the best idea.

“Are you sure?” The concern in her eyes made my heart wrench.

“I’m sure, mom. Thanks.” I stood up and voicing my goodbyes, leaving the club as fast as I could.

The sun was out and the sky was clear of clouds, a stark contrast of how I felt inside. I walked down the path, golf carts filled with kooks passing me by. All of them chattering about the next party or newest deal they had closed.

I kept walking and walking until I reached the boardwalk, which was thankfully empty. I sat down on the edge, swinging my feet over the water with the girl staring back at me and somehow looked as if she was drowning.

The wind carried the sound of footsteps behind me, my body tensing as his perfume arriving along with his shadow looming over me. The drowning girl hid away, leaving me alone. I almost begged her to take me with her.

“Why do you always run away?” my heart sank and then restarted when I heard his voice. For the first time in months, I heard the world clearly again. I hadn’t realized the power it had over me. Didn’t you?

Who was I kidding? He would always be my favorite person, everything about me was shaped by him. My favorite color was blue, my favorite smell was his cologne, my favorite taste were his lips, my favorite sound in the world was his voice, his body my favorite thing to touch. But most of all, his soul.

I took a deep breath before lifting my gaze to his. The knot on my throat made it hard to speak, “Who said I was running away?”

He scoffed before sitting down next to me. “I know you. Or at least I thought I did.” His tone sounded reproachful, his eyes searching my face. this time i really looked at him, gone were his red, glassy eyes, the gauntness of his cheeks but most importantly, the anger that had felt permanently etched into his features every time he looked at me.

the buzz cut now made his features more prominent, his body was stronger and not as skinny as when he’d been living off cocaine and god knew what else.

he looked more like the rafe i’d met forever ago, but there was still something that wasn’t quite there. his innocence. which wasn’t the one of a child, but more so the type of innocence that comes with ignorance. the type where you think you can get away with anything and that bad things only happen to somebody else, but never to you. no matter how bad you behave, you genuinely believed there would be no consequences.

and the boy in front of me knew how untrue that belief was.

“rafe, i—” the knot on my throat became worse, preventing me from talking further. great, now here come the waterworks!

i turned my face away so he couldn’t see my tears but it was too late.

he took hold of my face, “look at me.”

i tried to jerk away but it was no use. i had no other choice but to cry silently while he judged me.

“im going to talk and you’re going to listen, understood?” his voice now held a tone of authority i’d never heard before.

that’s kinda hot. dude, now is not the time.

i nodded because what the fuck was i supposed to do?

he turned so both of his hands held my face now. then he did something i wasn’t expecting, he leaned in and kissed my forehead for what felt like an eternity.

when he pulled away his gaze held mine, with a force stronger than any physical restraint i could possibly be held in.

the tears were flowing freely so i probably looked like a drowned cat at the moment.

“im not mad at you, ok? i hope you know that i never asked for you to not visit me. i know it was my dad that didn’t want you near me, but i swear that the only person i ever wanted by my side was you.

“i won’t deny that i was furious when you left me that night. i only got worse because i didn’t have anyone to stop me, or at least try to. i felt like you were the last person that still believed in me, who would always be beside me. and i took you for granted.” his words felt like a knife through my heart. i abandoned him.

“rafe, im sorry. i shouldn’t have left you like that. not when you needed me the most.” my words barely made sense but he somehow understood. he always did.

“no. you did the right thing. i hurt you, i told you that i hated you. when all you’d ever done for me was love me. i’m sorry, ok? if you hadn’t left then maybe i wouldn’t have gotten help.” he lowered his hands to his lap, my face burning where they had been resting.

“i know you tried to help me. that you talked to my dad about how i was and i know that he dismissed you. he only took me to the hospital because i overdosed and he didn’t want the island to know how ward cameron’s perfect son was a drug addict.” he laughed in a humorless manner, “hell, he even paid everyone at the hospital to keep quiet. that didn’t help much, frankly. gossip always finds its way.”

i wanted to say something but i could tell he wasn’t done so i waited until he felt ready.

this time his voice was hoarse, making me realize he wanted to cry too. i couldn’t take it anymore because nothing could hurt me more than seeing him in pain.

“rafe?” i murmured. he looked up with a broken expression causing me to wrap my arms around him. i felt him tense for a second before he hugged me back tightly.

my shirt got wet with our tears and we clung onto each other like a lifeline, with rafe repeating my name like a mantra. after a while, we pulled away and he held my face between his hands like before, only this time much gentler.

“i miss you, im sorry.”

“i miss you too, rafe.” i fell back into him, resting my head on his shoulder. we sat silently for a while before he spoke.

“can we at least be friends?” the question caught me by surprise.

“you’ve always been my best friend, rafe. but again i’m sorry for not being there, i should’ve done more.”

“no, you couldn’t have. it was the way things were supposed to be.”

he played with my hair like he used to, “you’ve always been my best friend too, kid.”

i punched him playfully at the name, making him chuckle. i pulled back to see his face and i wiped away the few tears that were left with my hand. he fell silent, leaning into my touch, “i love you, you know? not being close to you drove me insane. and it makes me so happy to see that you are healthy, at least physically.

“i want to help you in any way that i can and i want to be there from now on, if—“ his lips crushing onto mine cut me off before i could finish. his hands were in my hair, holding me in place as if afraid i’d run away again.

only i knew i wouldn’t. not this time. he groaned when i bit his lower lip, softly. he ran his tongue along mine before i let him in. i sighed into the kiss and pulled him impossibly closer. our lips explained more than any words that came out of them ever could. i separated from him to breathe and he only kept kissing my cheeks, jaw, neck until he reached my collarbone where he rested his head with quick, short breaths.

“i love you too,” he said. i touched his hair and ran my fingers over the short strands.

“i like your hair, by the way,” i murmured.

he laughed, pulling back. “really? i got it because i thought you would hate it.”

i rolled my eyes, “are you serious? either way, you look good with any haircut.”

“i wasn’t exactly planning on this to go like this. in my head, i was going to confront you and tell you all the ways i’d been miserable but that went away when i saw you that night by my house.”

“oh.”

he chuckled, “yeah. oh. anyway, i was telling my dad how i was going to ask why you never visited me and that’s why he said what you heard.

“i then realized it had been him and as if life liked playing tricks on me, there you were at the gate with a sad expression. yet before i could say anything you left running. i wanted to go after you but my dad called me inside and i didn’t want a fight that night. so i waited until i saw you today and when i was going to ask you to talk to me, again my dad came along. but then i saw you leave and i figured it was now or never, so i excused myself and he was so busy talking to the others at the table that he didn’t notice.”

i scoffed, “well, i’m guessing he noticed by now.”

he laughed, “yeah.”

we fell silent but i still had one more thing to ask, “how did you know i was here?” though i think i already knew the answer, after all i hadn’t exactly been surprised when he came. more like a sense of having your intuition confirmed.

“remember the night we met? i was alone and drunk, saying i was going for a night swim when i saw you sitting here alone. which should’ve alerted me that you were a weirdo but between your beauty and the alcohol, those thoughts went to shit.”

i blushed slightly, “i’m not a weirdo, jackass. i’d had a rough night.”

“i know, kid. i’m just messing with you and besides, i might’ve drowned that night if you hadn’t been here,” he smiled fondly but a bit sad as well.

“so, that makes me your knight in shining armor?” i grinned.

he scowled in mock annoyance, “how dare you mock a damsel in distress?”

i chuckled and felt a heavy weight lift off my chest. i felt lighter than i had in a while, and all because of him.

“my apologies, dear.”

he took my hand with a smile and brought it to his lips for a kiss, before placing it against his cheek.

“but to answer your question, we always find each other,” his words sinking in. that was true. we always did as if there was some invisible string tying him to me.

“you’re right. although you’re still not beating the stalker allegations,” i teased.

“ugh shut up, it was one time!” he groaned.

i burst out laughing, “you followed me for a whole day! that’s some stalker behavior type shit.”

“c��mon, kid. i wanted to give you your bracelet back and i didn’t know where you lived,” his eyes widening in a too innocent way which caused me to narrow mine.

“a bracelet that wasn’t even mine. plus you could’ve just given it to me when you first saw me,” i crossed my arms in front of my chest with a raised brow.

“oh c’mon, but where’s the fun in that?”

i pushed his shoulder, playfully only for him to laugh and hug me.

“i really just wanted to know if you were with someone else, so i wouldn’t make a fool of myself.” he whispered in my ear.

“you could’ve just asked,” i rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me.

“i wanted to be cool about it, ok? i had a reputation to maintain,” he joked but i knew he was a little serious. he’d been the epitome of a rich, arrogant, country club boy.

“i thought you were such an asshole.” who the fuck wears shades inside of a convenience store? you guessed it: rafe cameron.

he gasped in mock surprise, “you’re just saying that because you had the hots for me.”

“pfft, sure buddy. i think you’re projecting a little,” i laughed.

“i never said i didnt,” this time his tone was a little too serious making my heart beat faster.

“can we try this again?” he asked shyly.

i pondered for a moment before answering, “yes, but i want you to let me help you this time, ok?”

he moved his head to look me in the eye, “i promise.”

“ok, but wait. what about your father?” i’d somehow forgotten how he hated me now. or maybe always had.

“what about him? i’m an adult, i can make my own decisions. besides it’s none of his business. he’s the one that got us here in the first place.” his tone was now angry, which was rare when he spoke of his father. it was usually filled with frustration and sadness when it came to him. and i knew how important his father’s approval was to him.

“rafe, i don’t know. he’s still your father and i don’t want to come between you two,” i lowered my eyes so he wouldn’t see the tears threatening to spill.

he was silent for a moment before lifting my chin with his finger, frowning when he noticed my expression.

“you’re the love of my life. i’m not losing you again, ok? he’ll have to understand and i will talk to him. i’ll tell him how things really went down. plus, he isn’t innocent in any of this either.”

pursing my lips, i nodded. “ok” i didn’t really believe ward would be capable of changing his mind, but if it made rafe happy then i would try and compromise.

rafe searched for my eyes with a soft smile, “i love you.”

i returned the smile, “i love you too.”

he then got up to his feet, reaching his hand down to help me stand. after a few more kisses and a hug, he took me to his truck. we drove around with no particular destination in mind but with the sole purpose of being by ourselves without prying eyes and judging remarks.

i hoped deep down that i wasn’t making a mistake and that everything would be ok.

and as if on cue, “everything is going to be ok.” i turned my head in surprise at his words.

“don’t act so shocked, kid. i know you better than i know myself.” he then lifted my hand again and kissed it like he’d done on the boardwalk.

i chuckled and leaned my head back, closing my eyes. with the windows down, the ocean breeze, his hand drawing circles on the back of mine, and the soft music playing, i felt myself float away.

“sleep, angel. i love you.”

and then i woke up.

JK JK IT’S NOT A DREAM.

or is it? HEHEHEHEHE

ALSO WHY IS SHE SO CODEPENDENT??? LIKE GIRL STAND UP (says the one who wrote her 👯‍♀️)

anywayyyy, if you made it this far THANK YOU. I LOVE YOU!!!

please feel free to write comments or whatever, i love talking to you all 💞

and if you liked this check out my other stories!!

im currently writing a murder mystery kind of story and i only have two chapters for now, but i will make flashbacks with like text messages and diary entries and stuff. i’m trying to make it as if the reader is part of the investigation (I HOPE IM DOING A GOOD JOB) and i already have how i want the story to end but writing it is the hard part. like how long do i make it?? i don’t want to rush it but i really want to finish it because the characters take a mind of their own when i write. does that make sense? prob not lol

div creds!!- by @anitalenia

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sinning-23 · 1 year ago

Text

Twice the Fun (Zoro x Reader x Sanji)

Because i need them both in a way that is concern to feminism and they could literally do whatever they wanted to me (respectfully) ahem. This ones for my sick, freak, nasty, touch-starved bitches It's really just prn with A LITTLE plot yall and a little more attention to detail.

18+ DUH?!

Warnings: Tagteam, creampie, gagging, choking, biting, scratching, p in v, unprotected, degradation, teasing, praising, spanking, double penetration (holy shit this is a lot even for me lol)

Hope yall enjoy (smut is a bit of a specialty of mine)

PART 2 HERE

Ps. PLEASE EXCUSE ANY SPELLING ERRORS!

What were you truly meant to do? Turn down the pair to try and make yourself look like less of a slut than you really were? Well, slut was kind of harsh. We'll say, more sexually inclined.

Yeah, that sounds classier.

Anyway, when Sanji and Zoro approached you in a more physical than verbal way, you couldn't decide whether or not you should say no to try and keep up an image they already saw past, or simply let them Eiffel Tower you. How the hell did you end up in this predicament in the first place???

___3 days ago___

You sigh, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you nudge the man beside you. You didn't quite care if he woke up or not, you'd just go to your other 'friends' room to fulfill your insatiable need for dick...and love and affection...but of course, Sanji didn't know that...and neither did Zoro and hell you'd like to keep it that way.

Perfectly balanced...sorta. Part of you feels bad though, you do love him...and Zoro too but damn it you just had to have them both. And with the way that two bicker and act like they can't stand each other, there was a fat chance you'd get your wish.

You nudge Sanji again, pressing soft kisses to his temple, and brushing his hair out of his face. He stirs, eyes slightly opening to reveal a set of lovely blues.

"Good morning. Pussy put you to sleep?" You tease, seeing him smile in recollection of the events of the night prior.

"Its not nice to tease." He groans, sitting up on his elbows and forearms to kiss your lips.

Its sweet, your heart stuttering with guilt. You know he loves you but this whole thing was supposed to be no strings attached. You pull away, noticing a brief hurt behind those eyes you just stared so lustfully into hours ago.

"Hurry up, youve got breakfast to make and I'm pretty sure someones getting a bit suspicious. You chuckle, pointing to the alarm clock.

He swears, shuffling a bit faster to find his briefs, dress pants, and shirt in a hurry. He doesnt forget to kis your temple before he leaves though.

"Come to my room again tonight, yeah?" He asks, and you nod. How could you not?

When you're sure he's long gone, you hide your face in your palms, groaning deeply before gazing into the mirror. Shit...he marked you up worse than before. You roll your eyes, that funny butterfly feeling filling up your stomach again. Damn him for making you love him. This wasn't the first time you'd have to cover up hickeys and it wouldn't be the last.

Your shoes echo down the hall a bit as you pass zoro's room now, curiosity getting the best of you. You crack the door open and there he is, pulling on that same old tan shirt over that damn gorgeous body.

"Good morning." You hum, slipping in and closing the door behind you.

He doesn't respond back, only nods in your direction. Zoro was more...blunt with these things. He thought he'd almost gotten perfect at hiding how he was feeling from you, but you had already clawed your way up and over the walls he put up. Essentially you could see right through him.

Before he can protest about you not knocking, you've got your arms around him in a hug, one he definitely needed seeing as he missed your touch far more than he would admit out loud. In his head, you were his girl. All his. He knew it wasn't true, this...whatever this was, being nothing more than a beneficial friendship. You weren't really his and it tore him up inside. He knows he loves you, but damn it if he admits it.

"Missed me? I see that look in your eyes Roro." You tease, knowing the nick name bothers him in th best way.

"I wish you would quit calling me that." He responds, letting his arms wrap around you to return the embrace, his chin resting atop your head. He needed you bad.

"Coming here tonight? Or do I have to drag you from your quarters to mine?" He smirks, making you laugh and bury your face in his chest. Gods he loved your laugh.

"How could I not?" You respond, swallowing a bit hard, knowing you were wrong for that.

Double booking a dick appointment was a big NO-NO. This leaves too much opportunity for one to find out about the other. But in hindsight, would that really be so bad? You wanted and loved them both, and being sneaky was starting to weigh on your conscience despite not being in an actual relationship with either of them.

"You alright?" He asks, cupping your face with his free hand. You drank up moments like these, it was truly a privilege to see the softer side of Zoro.

You nod, kissing him quick before making your leave.

The rest of the crew is already up and working on odds and ins of the ship. You managed your end of the chores, first mopping, then tying knots, and lastly laundry. You chatted with Nami, hoping a village is coming up soon but no luck.

Damn, the day had really gotten away from you. The sun was already setting and your heart sank to the pit of your goddamn stomach. It's sunset...which means night is right around the corner...

Oh fuck.

You scramble off the front deck and head straight to your quarters, skillfully dodging both Sanji and Zoro, who you had managed to have run into each other instead of you. Bad idea, because if you knew anything about Sanji, it's that he had a funny way of letting things slip rather sneakily. And if you knew anything about Zoro, its that he would easily catch a slick comment, and match it.

You lock your door, pacing back and forth in hopes of coming up with a plan. The truth? Yeah maybe tell the truth! You swallow your pride, taking a deep breath, only to head a kock at your door. Oh god. Your hands tremble, that sickly nervous feeling seeping into your pores. Its hot in here.

"Hey honey, um, how about we reschedule to tomorrow?" Sanji hums, something...off in his tone.

You pull the door open, that same facade over your face. You swallow, nodding at him in response.

"I see. I mean yeah we can. Something come up?" You ask, eyes shifting all over. You can bring yourself to keep direct contact with him and damn he can tell. You could've sworn that you saw someone turn the corner...was that Zoro. Nevermind that. Apparently, Sanji had said something to you but you hadn't heard it you were panicking so damn much.

"Uhh sure. You okay?" He questions, more smug than anything. He knows...

__2 days ago___

It was far too quiet for your liking. Sanji seemed to avoid you...and so did Zoro. Well, not really avoid you. In all honestly you were paranoid and reading into everything. You had FABULOUS intuition so when the energy was out of wack it went straight to your head.

They know. They have to. There's no way they don't. The two of them had gotten a lot bolder you noticed. It was all so clear to you. They were...competing almost. Zoro would leave his hand on your hip, and Sanji would roll his eyes. Sanji would pull your hair up into a ponytail to keep it out of your face when you were cleaning? Zoro would scoff and move on.

Okay, so they definitely knew. Now they were playing the "She likes me more game." That was the least of your concerns. If anything you were drinking up the attention. What you really wanted to know, was how they had found out about each other...the ship is small so that doesn't help the situation.

Today, you managed to find yourself in the kitchen while both your blonde and green-headed sneaky links were ALSO in the vicinity. You swallow hard, bidding them a good day whilst making your way to the fridge, which Sanji usually keeps locked up otherwise Luffy would get in it.

"Sanji, um, the key please." You ask, clearing your throat as the two seemed to watch your every move.

He smiles, stepping beside you, his hand trailing from your waist to the curve of your ass. He's grinning the whole time, his eyes cutting to Zoro before squatting down, using your leg as a means to steady himself to retrieve the well-hidden, key. His fingers dance over your thighs and inwards, just barely brushing over the crotch of your shorts. You yelp, tensing when Zoro gives a slight 'tch'

Sanji stands, plopping the piece of metal in your hand before returning to the stove from whence he came.

"Thanks." You rasp, fianlly feeling a pinh at ease before oepenign the fridge.

Too bad the peace only lasted for two seconds, becuse right when you had cracked it open, Zoro was already behind you, reaching for his desnated bottle of alcohol, his hand right at your waist, just where Sanji's had been.

Instead of squatting however, down to more or less 'politely' show ownership of you, Zoro opts to wind his hand back as far as possible.

SMACK

You yelp louder, steadying yourself agaisn the fridge as you moan at the sting. There was no doubt there was a bit of a mark again toyu melenated skin now. Zoro only grins, all too smug at Sanji's enraged expression.

"Thats it. You just have no sense of respect do you." Sanji argues, Zoro standing a bit taller now.

If you hadn't been squeezed between the two now, they'd surely be chest to chest. Your body is beginning to betray you, heat flooding your face and between your thighs. This wasn't about them. This was about you and who you liked more...They each wanted your attention. Rightfully so, I mean not only were you a sweetheart with a smart mouth but that mouth could do a lot more than just talk shit. And either one of them would be happy to accept death between your thighs.

"If you knew anythign at all, youd kne she likes a little desrespect." Zoro shoots back, your eyes widening.

"If you knew anything you'd know she likes being treated like a princess." Sanji scoffs.

"Lets not talk about me like im not here-"

You're cut off when they shoot that same look your way. A look you'd seen one to many times, bent over, facing a conveniently placed mirror...or wit your back against the matress, one of them over you while your legs cramp up from being so close to your chest.

Damn fr two guys who seemingly didn't 'get alog' they sure had a lot in common.

In the heat fo the argument, you slide pst the pair and out of the kitchen. Unfortunetly for you, a head of orage just happened to be outside and heard part of the last three statements.

"I dont even want to knw what or how you're gonna get out of this. Youll figure it out." Nami half encourages as you groan.

Is that what good pussy did to a mf? Start wars?! It blew your mind but you had less than a few seconds process to the situation. Before you could even realize what was happening, Zoro exited the kitchen and scope you up. And right behim him was a very serious, looking Sanji....

oh you’re so screwed.

——————————————

Authors note: HI YALLL ok so this one’s been sitting in the drafts for literally I wanna say a half a year now lmao uhhhhh let me know if you’d like to be tagged for pt.2 that’s where all the HOT SHIT HAPPENS! Anyway love you all! Drink water lol

#x reader #one piece #one piece live action #reader is black #i don't care he's hot #headcannons #one piece x reader #opla #smut #hes so hot #zoro one piece live action #roronoa zoro x reader #opla zoro #opla zoro x reader #sanji opla #black leg sanji #opla sanji x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader

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httpknjoon · 2 years ago

Text

(re)starting over again | kth; 11

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 2.8k

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

warning/s | -

note | AAAAND WE'RE BACK! it's been a month since the last update! consider this as a new season for mc and tae :)) u might find this chapter a little fast-paced or not idk.. let me know ur thoughts! enjoy reading <;3 ps. sorry for the errors!

main masterlist | series masterlist

A couple of years passed, two to be exact, and a lot of things happened. The bakery became more crowded. It was renovated and had a larger space instead of moving the entire bakery to another place. They began hiring extra help, usually part-time working students who used to be customers in the shop too.

Also, turns out that Jimin has a kid. Taehyung met Jihoon just a week after his best friend learned about his existence. Jihoon is a carbon copy of his dad, Taehyung thought. His eyes disappear when he smiles. Now, they have a little baker running around the kitchen usually on weekends.

Aside from those changes, Taehyung now lives in a studio apartment just a five-minute walk away from the bakery. He moved in just weeks after you left. The said apartment is not that big, just enough for him to rest in after work. Jimin commented that he treats that place like a hotel since Taehyung didn’t really personalize it to make the ambiance like a home. The whole place was plain, not even considered minimalist. Just plain. The walls were untouched. It was off-white when Taehyung came and it remains the same now. He didn’t really bother to invest anything in the place.

The house you two bought and lived in is still being taken care of. By him. Taehyung cleans up there once a week, just in case you reach out to visit home again and maybe talk about what to do with it. And when he feels like it, which is almost rare, he sleeps on the couch in the living room. He never really entered the guest room, which became your bedroom after the accident, except the time he got home after Jisoo and Namjoon’s wedding. That room was spotless, just like how you left it. The only things you left that night were on your vanity table; your house keys, the vintage pearl ring he bought you back in the flea market, and a folded paper.

The letter says, “Feel at home, this house is yours too. Paint the walls with the colors you like, buy new furniture, and fill the frames with new memories. Just please don’t sell it. I’ll try to reach out as soon as I can. For now, live the last years you missed.”

He never painted the walls with another color as he found the shade of blue that spreads around the house perfect. He never bought any furniture and still kept the same ones you had. He thought it fit the theme of the house and his preference. And yes, the picture frames show the same photos they originally had. It felt home that way for him. But he chose to move to the apartment because he always felt like he was missing something. The house is cozy and comfortable. But whenever he tries to lie on supposedly his bed, it feels empty. Once, he tried playing jazz music around the house, but it just got lonelier so he turned it off and just continued cleaning.

But he did try to keep up and look back at the things he forgot through his friends and the things he found at the house. Jimin, Namjoon, and sometimes Jisoo were patient with his questions. Jisoo, your best friend, was understandably distant from him at first after you went away. But she adds details to the stories Namjoon tells and later, became amiable with him. Jimin’s mom still looks after him and brings him food when she visits the city. There were a few times she mentioned Taehyung’s mother but he didn’t really care about her. So he ignores it.

“You know, you’re a handsome man. Don’t you have any lady?”

One of their common customer, a man in his seventies once asked him. It was not the first time someone asked him such a thing. He always shakes his head with a smile as an answer. It would lead later with an offer to meet someone they know. Taehyung would shyly and kindly decline these offers, saying he really doesn’t feel like dating for now. It’s true. The idea of him dating someone else felt wrong. It was like his own body rejected the idea as he felt uneasy with that thought.

“So, it’s that time of the year.”

Taehyung was pulling his third pan of cheesecake out of the hot oven with his oven gloves when he heard Ava, their longtime part-time staff, say that. She sounded amused but not surprised. He looked up and saw her leaning on the door frame with her arms crossed. She had a smug smile on her face.

“I swear, you should just declare this particular day as Cheesecake and Banana Bread Day just to make it official,” she added, teasing.

Taehyung looked at her, unimpressed, “It’s selling. In fact, my cheesecakes are one of our best sellers here… What are you doing here anyway? Go back to the front.”

He scolds her, she just rolled her eyes, unbothered. Ava was one of the students who knew Taehyung even before his accident. She went from being a loyal customer to a reliable staff of the shop. She has been enjoying the pastries in the shop ever since she was twelve and now, sixteen, she also enjoys getting into small banters with her older bosses. She is usually candid, and not shy to share her thoughts. Taehyung sees her as a little sister most time.

Given that she began working here after you left, Ava doesn’t really have an idea why Taehyung bakes a few batches of cheesecake and banana loaves on this specific date. She doesn’t know you and that you are celebrating your birthday today. Taehyung learned about that fact after his phone notified him weeks after you went. Since then, he has baked your favorites on your special day.

It’s the third time now. It’s probably a slim chance but he hoped to see you around the bakeshop, enjoying pastries. But so far, he hasn’t seen you around. In fact, he hadn’t even heard from you ever since that night. He thought he saw you a year ago in the subway when he came to Incheon to go sightseeing, but he lost you before he could take a second glance. He didn’t know where you moved since he respects your space but he wondered if you really moved that far. He wonders about you every now and then.

Jisoo posted a short clip in her Instagram Stories months ago. It’s just a clip of a long trail and he swore he heard you in the background noise of that clip, telling your best friend how tired you are from hiking. Then, the clip ended.

“Not because it’s best selling you would make a ton of it. It’s something about demand and supply– I don’t know,” she conceded, breaking Taehyung’s train of thought. “Anyway, I’m here because someone called on the phone, asking for you.”

Taehyung’s heart stopped for a second. His hopes almost blasted out of his soul but he tried to stay calm before asking Ava, “Who is it?”

“I don’t know. But it’s a woman. They said they want to specifically talk to you.” she replied, unaware that the man in front of him was holding his breath. She continued, “They are actually waiting on call right now.”

Taehyung almost sprinted to the front desk of the shop. Still in his mint green oven gloves, he reached for the telephone. His heart is beating fast while his gut is twisting tight. He paused when he realized he had nothing to say. He doesn’t know what to say if it’s you. Are you going to talk about the house? Should he greet you with Happy Birthday first and offer you your favorite cheesecake? Maybe you won’t like– Stop.

Taehyung took a deep breath before exhaling. He spoke, “Hello, this is Kim Taehyung, co-owner of The Sweet Spot. How can I help you?”

“Oh, hi.”

His heart dropped. Okay, relax. He told himself. It’s not you.

There were nights when Taehyung would find himself awake. And tonight is one of those nights. He just lay on his bed, staring at the blank ceiling. He always had trouble falling asleep, maybe a side effect of his accident. He doesn’t know anymore. But he knows that it makes his head go crazy with random thoughts when times like this happen. And now, he thought of something.

That’s when he picked up his phone and keys, along with his coat. He drove away from his apartment.

The bell above the door rang when he entered the convenience store to pick up a few beers and chips. His cold hands stayed in his coat’s pockets as he looked around the store, waiting for the clerk to scan his stuff. Just when the worker was about to say the prince, the bell clung again.

“No, wait. I’m just really hungry. Wait for me… Yes, I have money here.”

Everything went quiet and suddenly all that he could hear was that voice. Your voice. He’s sure of that. He looked back and saw a woman’s back going into one of the aisles. His heart raced once again. You’re here?

“Dude, you okay?” the tired clerk asked, looking at him with heavy bags under his eyes.

Taehyung looked at him, and broke out of his headspace, “Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry.”

He pulled out his cash and paid. He can still hear your voice like you were talking with someone on your phone.

“Do you want anything– Oh, the honey-butter chips I want ran out of stock.”

Taehyung looked at the chips in his hand. He looked at the clerk who also looked at him like they understood each other without saying anything. Taehyung placed the chip back on the counter.

“Just give this to the girl,” he whispered before turning his back.

He didn’t look back. A cool blow of wind brushed on his face when he walked out the door. For a second, he inhaled and exhaled again to calm his nerves. He got in his car, putting the pack of beer on the other seat. As he started the car, his eyes landed on the side mirror.

Yes, it’s you. Definitely.

You just walked out of the same store, still on your phone, as you walked away grinning with your honey butter chips. You walked on the other end of the pathwalk. Taehyung pursed his lips and drove away.

His lips remained sealed but his head was exploding with questions. That was the closest he had seen you since the night you said goodbye. How are you? Why are you in the city? Did you live around here? It can’t be. Jisoo told him you left the hospital you used to work at.

Instead of driving back to his apartment, Taehyung ended up parking in front of your deserted house. He had his beer with him as he turned the key on the doorknob. He stepped into the said home feeling colder even though he still hadn’t removed his coat. He placed the drink on the center table in the living room and plugged in the TV for background noise. He put on a random show, which happens to be FRIENDS.

Opening a can, he sat on the couch, pulling a couple of books he left under the same table. Photo albums and scrapbooks. You never told him such things exist in here, he just found them after cleaning around the house. It was personalized by you and him. He could tell by the design and handwritten captions.

Almost everything was documented through photos and other knick knacks like receipts from a movie you two saw together. Browsing through the pages of it, it felt like looking at other people’s relationships even though he was in the photos himself. In one of the photos, he saw himself with a camera. He didn’t even know he had one. He tried searching around the house for it but he never found it.

You had more solo portraits in the said books than him. He figured out why. Maybe he really loved capturing you as his subject. You looked the same in every picture: happy and in love. Most of your pictures were candid, taken without you knowing. Then, a handwritten date by him will be seen below it. Each photo was adorable. Some are just random ones. You were brushing your teeth or showing off your colorful scrubs (which was written in the caption: BOUGHT HER YELLOW DUCKIES SCRUBS I THINK SHE LIKES IT).

Taehyung spend his sleepless nights like this, looking back at what he missed. He read through articles before that the possibility of getting his memories back is a hit or miss. So he learned to just go on and maybe accept how things became. He tries to move forward at the same time he tries to look back. It’s quite confusing sometimes.

IT’S HER… I’M SURE

That was the caption in one photo of you dating just weeks after you two moved into this house. In the picture, your back was turned as you sat in front of your vanity table. You can be seen fixing your hair while looking at your reflection. Taehyung’s eyebrow raised with the caption. He wondered what it meant. He turned the page to the next one but was greeted with nothing but a blank page. Turns out, that was the most recent one.

“The main branch of their restaurant is somewhere in Incheon. I’ll send you the address after the call.”

Taehyung listened to Jimin through a loudspeaker call. His hair is still damp from a shower. Standing in front of the mirror, he compares two coats that would suit the rest of his outfit. He felt the need to look presentable tonight.

“You will meet the owner herself, Ashley. She said you can just introduce yourself to the host and he’ll lead you to your table… Ava kept the samples in the shop. She said she put them in different Tupperware so you can spot it right away.” Jimin instructed.

“Okay, okay.”

He heard his best friend sigh on the other line, “I’m sorry for the short notice, Tae. I totally forgot Jihoon will be staying with me tonight.”

Tonight, Taehyung will be meeting a special client. It’s the one who called a couple of weeks ago, during your birthday. it‘s a big restaurant that is planning to put the bakeshop’s products on their menu for dessert. Specifically, the cakes. The head chef was the one who brought up their product to the owner, whom he will meet now. Jimin initially agreed to meet the said client but his co-parenting schedule had some shifts. Just an hour ago, Taehyung learned he’d be the one meeting the client. It’s not like he had plans anyway. So, he immediately prepared himself.

After picking the clothes, Taehyung blow-dried and brushed his hair. His best friend sent the main address minutes later and so he left his apartment. He first drove by the shop, which closed a little earlier today. A lot of cakes were made for sample. It includes Jimin’s Carrot Cake, his own cheesecake, and six other more. Taehyung left with a brown bag of the samples.

His fingers tapped with the beat of the song playing on the radio as he drove his way to the restaurant. It was a peaceful night on the road.

This will be the first time Taehyung will be going back to Incheon since that time he went sightseeing. He stayed there for just three days before, it was days after his phone notified him about your supposedly fifth anniversary. His emotions were all over the place because of the aftermath and the demanding work in the bakeshop around that time. So he asked Jimin for a very short break. He still hasn’t got a car then so he took the subway throughout the whole time. It was during his last day there when he saw a glimpse of you in the crowded subways of that city. He remembered you were in your scrubs, your hair was cleanly kept in a low bun, and you were walking opposite of his direction. Then, he blinked. You were gone in the crowded place.

“Good evening, sir.”

Almost forty minutes later, Taehyung arrived at the restaurant, Starry Night. He was greeted by the host as he entered the elegant place. It has a great ambiance, romantic. It is a fine-dining restaurant and seems like a perfect spot for dinner dates.

He said his name when he was asked. And while the man looked down at his guest list, Taehyung’s eyes traveled around the place. And not even a minute in, his eyes stopped at someone who he felt had been staring at him.

His eyes widened at the sight. A stunning woman, clad in a black dress, stares back at him with surprise. His mouth ran dry, he had to gulp. Now, he’s sure. He’s sure.

It’s you.

taglist rules

RESTARTING OVER AGAIN TAGLIST [🔧🔨 ]

@iamkookiesforyou @aianloveseven @hoodalmighty @taebangtanbabe @kthsmoon @nooojaaam @hiimnothing @hiqhkey @annenakamura @taebangtanbabe @shin-ie @prlan @zzztaegizz @starlight-night0 @teddybeartaetae @http-fayeradise @kiwuki @tannies-luv @fuckthinking @betysotelo18 @honsoolgloss @aurorathi @paulaaa97 @satisfied18

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @ficluvr613 @misshale21

#bts angst #bts x reader #bts series #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung au #taehyung series #bts amnesia #taehyung amnesia #bts established relationship au #taehyung established relationship #restarting over again kth

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eschergirls · 7 months ago

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Dec. 2024 Update & Patreon Thank You!

Hi everyone! November is over, so it's time for our monthly Escher Girls site update and to thank all our wonderful Patreon subscribers & others who have supported us!

No major updates this month, I've been dealing with a health thing, so major site changes were paused a little, but as a reminder, I have improved the submission page for those who don't want to submit or Tumblr or don't want to link their Tumblr to their submission. As a reminder, if you don't click that it is okay for me to reply to your email address, you won't get a reply if there's something wrong with your submission or I otherwise don't post it for not fitting criteria reasons/not being able to find a source.

As usual, I've spent a lot of time this month fixing up old broken posts, cleaning them up to fix formatting errors, adding sources to them, and adding screenreader descriptions to all the images. I've also fixed up the Tumblr versions of those posts, and linked them to and from the EscherGirls.com posts.

Some of the highlights that of what I've fixed up this month that people might want to check out are:

The cover of Spider-Woman pregnant and also in a Tetris/centaur pose from Spider-Woman vol. 6 #1

This screenshot from a knock-off "Barbie" dress-up doll game with an equally horrifying pregnant "Barbie" (and a creepy Ken)

Yet Another Unfortunate Avengelyne Cover from Avengelyne vol. 4 #3

A white-washed Tiger Lily in a painful boobs and butt pose from Grimm Fairy Tales: Neverland - Hook #3

Two Tetris girls washing a car from Grimm Fairy Tales: The Dreameater Saga part 1

Yet More Psylocke from Marvel Age #104

Boobs and butt Alice from Alice in the Country of Diamond

And two pictures from Dragon's Crown of the Sorceress and the Amazon

All the posts should be cross-linked between the Tumblr and the main site if you want to check out what the comments on the other site were, etc...

And now I want to give a big thank you to Escher Girls' Patreon subscribers for November! I really appreciate the support, especially during these times that are rough for everybody. Your support helps me pay for web-hosting, keeping the domain name, and for site upgrades and updates, as well as just helping me keep the site going in general. It also allows me to keep Escher Girls up even if something happens to Tumblr or their policies change again, so I really appreciate it. <3

So without further delay, thank you SO much to:

Anne Adler Cat Mara Chris McKenzie Em Bardon First Time Trek Greg Sepelak Karrius Ken Trosaurus Kevin Carson Kim Wincen Leak Manuel Dalton Mary Kuhner Max Schwarz Miriam Pody Morgan McEvoy randomisedmongoose Rebecca Breu Ringoko Ryan Gerber Sam Mikes Sean Sea SpecialRandomCast Thomas

And a very very special thank you to JohnnyBob8 again for buying me another coffee on Ko-Fi!!!

And also a big thank you to everybody who reads and interacts with the blog in general! Your comments, feedback and interactions like with the caption contest are really a highlight of my day every day, especially this month when I've been having a rough time irl. You're the reason this site is still going :3

Thank you and I hope everybody has a great holiday season,

Ami

PS: As a reminder, we added a button that links to the Escher Girls Tumblr and to our RSS feed for those who want to follow that way. (For newbies, RSS stands for Really Simple Syndication and is basically a feed you can read using an RSS reader. Simply copy and paste https://eschergirls.com/rss.xml into an RSS reader and it will keep you up to date on Escher Girls!)

Make sure it is eschergirls.com and not eschergirls.tumblr.com, as that is Tumblr, and not the self-hosted site.

If you have any issues with the site or suggestions to improve it, please do not hesitate to contact me and let me know!

If you wish to support Escher Girls, you can subscribe to our Patreon at: https://www.patreon.com/ami_angelwings or donate through Ko-Fi at: https://ko-fi.com/amiangelwings.

#patreon #update #note

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jainiss · 2 years ago

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hello!

bringing reactions of shanks, mihawk and buggy, from one piece, when they do something that makes yn very angry. Yn have an angry attitude towards them and walk away.

Hope you guys like it ~

Ps: forgive me if there are english mistakes. English is not my native language.

Ps2: these are guesses at what I think it would be. all fictional.

Shanks stood on the deck of the Red-Haired Pirates' ship, a hint of recognition in his eyes as he saw you approaching. Your face was twisted with anger, and you marched directly toward him. Shanks greeted you calmly, "Yn, it's been a long time." Your fists clenched even tighter, your voice dripping with bitterness. "Don't act like you don't know what you did, Shanks!" Shanks nodded solemnly. "I remember, Yn. I know I made a mistake, and I regret it deeply."

Your anger flared as you shouted, "Regret won't change what happened! You left me to fend for myself!" Shanks's gaze remained steady. "I can't change the past, but I hope we can find a way to move forward." Your anger seemed uncontainable. "Move forward? After everything?" You turned to walk away. Shanks watched you go, his heart heavy with guilt and sorrow. He knew the pain he had caused, and he wished for nothing more than a chance to make amends. He knew that reconciliation would take time and effort, but he was willing to try.

---

Mihawk was taken aback by the sudden surge of anger in your eyes. You had always been patient and understanding, but now, you were seething with frustration. Your voice quivered with anger as you exclaimed, "Mihawk, you promised you would be here for my important event, and you didn't show up!" your disappointment was palpable.

Mihawk's heart sank as he realized his grave error. He had indeed promised to attend your significant event, but circumstances beyond his control had prevented him from keeping that promise. "I know I let you down, yn," Mihawk admitted, his voice heavy with regret. "Something urgent came up, and I couldn't make it. I should have informed you sooner." Your anger was mixed with a deep sense of hurt. "It was a crucial moment for me, Mihawk. I needed you, and you weren't there. I felt abandoned."

Mihawk reached out to you, but you took a step back. Your anger was still raw, and you needed time to process your emotions. "I understand if you're angry with me," Mihawk said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I will make it up to you in any way I can, yn. Please give me a chance to make things right." As you walked away, your anger remained, but Mihawk was determined to mend your relationship and prove that he valued your feelings and commitments.

---

In the bustling streets of Loguetown, the Straw Hat Pirates found themselves in yet another adventure. Buggy the Clown, had unexpectedly crossed paths with you, a member of the Straw Hat crew. You had always been known for your calm and collected demeanor. However, there was one thing that could set you off like a cannonball - Buggy's antics. And today, it seemed like Buggy was determined to push your patience to the limit.

As the crew gathered at a local market, Buggy, with his trademark red nose and cackling laughter, decided to show off his sword skills. Swinging his dual knives around with reckless abandon, he sent fruits and vegetables flying in all directions. "Watch out, everyone! Buggy's on the loose again," Nami shouted, trying to protect her precious tangerines. But you had had enough.

With a furious scowl, you stormed over to Buggy. "That's it, Buggy! Your childish antics have gone too far this time!" Buggy, still grinning foolishly, turned to face you. "Oh, what's the matter, yn? Can't handle a little fun?" Without warning, you reached out and grabbed Buggy's red, bulbous nose, yanking it hard. Buggy's eyes widened in shock as pain shot through him. His laughter turned into agonized cries. "Fun, you call this fun?" You seethed. "This is a market, not a playground!" With a final twist of Buggy's nose, you released him and turned away, leaving the clown pirate clutching his face in pain.

The entire market fell silent, shocked by the sudden turn of events. Later, as the Straw Hat Pirates continued their adventure, Buggy sat alone, nursing his nose. He couldn't believe he had finally met someone who could put him in his place. Perhaps it was time for him to rethink his childish ways. Little did he know that this encounter with you would be the catalyst for a change in his pirate career. Buggy the Clown would begin to mature and it all started with one angry, nose-twisting encounter with you.

Byebye~

#one piece shanks #one piece buggy #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk #mihawk #buggy the clown #buggy #shanks #anime #manga #one piece #reactions one piece

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tashdemetriou · 2 years ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/cerxei/724969506862235648/wandavision-for-mcuchallenge

^^^ How'd you do this amazing gifset? Especially the circle gifs, how'd you do them, please?

Hi! Thanks for asking ^_^ I have never made a tutorial before, so this is sort of my first try, if you have any more questions or need any more clarification please feel free to ask! This tutorial requires basic PS and gif-making knowledge, but again if you would like more help please let me know, I am happy to help where I can!

I started with a 540x540 white background and then used the ellipse tool to make the circles. You can make these whatever size and shape you want, but if you would like to do them the same way I did I included screenshots for you to do the same!

The size of the large center circle + the drop shadow settings:

Note: I only used the drop shadow on the center circle, but you can use it on them all if you want. It is just personal preference! This is the settings for the smaller circles:

I centered the center circle first and then placed the others around it and it was sorta trial and error until they sorta snapped into place and formed the shape I needed lol, so you should have this after you place all of your circles:

Note: you cannot see the drop shadow effect here despite it being on because there is no background image on the white.

So, for the background gif, I just made one that was 540x540 with the basic sharpening settings you can find in any gif tutorial on Tumblr ever lol, I don't do anything special there.

IMPORTANT! I found that making the gifs, coloring and sharpening it, exporting the gif, and then opening the gif was the best way to transfer it into this because otherwise the frames were all off and the size of the gif was too large to post on here.

After doing that, I dragged the background gif and just placed it behind the circles and you are done with that part.

For the center gif, I made it 300x300 and then did everything I said in the "important" section above about exporting it, opening it again, and then dragging it to the layout file. With the center gif being 300x300 you can see it is larger than the actual circle, I did this one purpose so I could just drag the corners and resize. You want to make all of your gifs a little bigger than the circles, or else you will have these odd lines of your square gif inside of the circle, which... when making circle gifs is not something you want lol. So, always size it up a bit more and just drag the corner until it fits in the circle and is placed how you want it!

To get the gif "inside" of the circle you press alt and hover between the gif and the circle you want it to be inside of and they like snap together, I don't know the actual term for this lol, but basically like this:

I followed the same steps for the smaller gifs and made those gifs 150x150.

For the font I used "Brandish Regular" in all caps and I honestly don't know if this is just pre-installed in Photoshop or if I got it from somewhere lol. Here are my font settings and the gradient/stroke settings!

I just changed the color gradient to match the gif of the background, I think?

I really hope this was helpful, lol. Please let me know if you have any questions and I would love to see if anyone makes gifs with this layout I made! :D

#anon #ask #tutorial #ps tutorial #gif tutorial #*tutorial

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peachhcs · 2 years ago

Text

The 5 times Neteyam loved you and the 1 time he said it.

Neteyam x fem!reader

Word count: 15.6k 😳

Summary: pretty self explanatory I think, but the 5 times Neteyam loved you and the 1 time he finally said it 😌

Warnings: near character death, talk of absent parents, gun & knife violence, blood

ITS FINALLY HERE!! THE LONG AWAITED 15k+ fic I took like a week to write 😭 This is cliche but I haven’t seen anyone else do this prompt before. I listened to the people and put this into one large fic, so I hope y’all like it!! The ending is..a little rocky, but it’s what you get after forcing myself to finish this. There is a prologue in this & I wasn’t originally going to include it, but I liked it too much to delete it from the story LOL

If you guys want a Lo’ak version, I have one in the drafts, but idk if that is something y’all want. My requests for fic ideas are open, so send some in if y’all want! Thanks for all the love!! (ps, not quite proof read so if there’s some spelling or grammatical errors my apologies)

MASTERLIST

PROLOGUE.

It was no doubt that you were an extreme pleaser. Growing up as the eldest sibling to your parent’s five, it was your job to stay in line. Set the example. Follow the rules. Be the golden child. It was the whole reason why you and Neteyam bonded so quickly when you met.

He knew how it felt to be the perfect one. You both carried the same burden, the same pressure, the same expectations set by your parents. All you wanted was to please them and get the praise you desperately craved.

You saw Neteyam for a few weeks now. It started one day in the woods when you were out exploring. Foana and Ni`awtu insisted going out into the forest. You knew being the eldest that you couldn’t possibly leave them to their own devices, so you reluctantly followed after them.

That same afternoon, the Sully kids decided embarking on their own expedition. The clan was so large and spread out in nearly every part of the forest that you hardly knew every single person. You knew of the Sully children and their great father Jake, the Olo’eyktan and Toruk Makto, however you did not know them.

Everything changed for you and your siblings that afternoon when Foana wandered off. You had no idea that a certain Sully boy would change the entire trajectory of your life that day.

You were distracted with admiring the beautiful flora that you didn’t even realize your younger sister disappeared. A tiny tug on your tail made you spin around, hissing at Ni`awtu standing shyly behind you.

“Ni, what do you want?” You answered annoyed that she interrupted your gazing. Seeing her little worried features made you scrap any annoyance you ever possessed in the first place.

“It is Foana. I do not know where she went.” The fear laced through the young girl’s voice. Your eyes shot up, now realizing that the youngest sibling was no longer around the two of you.

To make matters even worse, you only brought your knife with you expecting a quick and short trip.

“Ni`awtu, you were supposed to be watching her at all times. Argh.” You pushed past her, beginning to sniff out any possible trails Foana may wandered off on.

“I am sorry, sister. I swear, I thought she was right behind me.” The familiar wobble of Ni’s voice and her trembling hands told you she was close to tears. Sighing, you collected her into your arms.

“Do not worry, it is not your fault. We will find her.” Being the eldest meant you could not be mad at your little siblings for long. You also could not let them take the blame for things—even if it was their fault at times. That was just what came with growing up as the eldest. You took nearly all the blame.

The two of you walked the tree lines, scanning every possible inch for that little rascal. She hardly knew the forest like you, so she couldn’t have been too far. If anything, she was probably cowering underneath a leaf or behind a tree because she did not know where she was anymore.

Your ears perked up when you heard voices ahead. In a quick maneuver, you shoved your sister behind you incase it was a threat. Not many from your clan ventured this far out into the forest by the old shack. It was forbidden by the Olo’eyktan—so whoever was ahead couldn’t possibly be Na’vi.

There was a tiny laugh, though. It caught you off guard and your defenses fell for just a moment. There came another laugh, louder and one you recognized this time.

“Foana.” You muttered and ran ahead through the brush.

When you came through clearing, you grew surprised seeing your little sister playing around with another younger Na’vi girl.

“Y/N, look! I made a friend!” Little Foana sensed your presence and motioned towards the other little girl. She smiled up at you with a toothy grin.

“Foana, what in Eywa are you doing all the way out here? You do not wander away from me or your sister.” Your mom voice came out, loud and booming. The little one looked down in shame realizing she was in trouble.

“I am sorry, sister. I did not mean to. I just..I saw a flying lizard and had to follow it. I found her on the way.” She stuck out a thumb at other girl. Another sigh escaped your lips knowing she must’ve also strayed off her path and probably had people looking for her as well.

“Tuk! There you are! Why did you wander off?” A new voice entered the scene. She raced past you, scooping up the girl in her arms.

“Sorry, Kiri. I found a friend, though.” Tuk pointed at your sister who gave a similar toothy grin and a wave.

“It is okay, sister. Just make sure you tell someone next time, okay? Neteyam, I found her, it is okay.” You didn’t realized there was entire group behind you now. Two boys, no three boys, stood behind you. Two Na’vi and the singular human boy you knew lived around here.

“Tuk, I told you to keep up with us.” The shorter Na’vi boy went past you to ruffle up her little braids.

You hadn’t moved a single muscle since their sudden arrival. You were too awestruck in the way they comforted the girl. Neither of them showed any signs of anger or annoyance that she wandered off. It was so unfamiliar to you—all of that sincerity and comfort to one another.

“Oh, please excuse us. I am so sorry. I am Kiri. This is Tuk, Lo’ak, Neteyam, and Spider behind you.” The girl that came in first finally acknowledged your presence with a warm smile as she introduced what must’ve been her siblings.

“Oh, no need for apologies. I am Y/N. This is Ni`awtu and Foana.” You did a bow of greeting which your sisters quickly followed after.

“It seems as though our sisters have befriended one another. We were so worried when we realized she had wandered off.” Kiri laughed and pinched Tuk’s little nose. You smiled at the affection.

“Yes, us too. I was glad I found them both unharmed.” You pulled your sisters closer, trying to show a tiny bit of affection like the other siblings displayed.

“Let’s just be glad we didn’t need to call dad in. He would have beaten our asses if we told him we lost Tuk.” Lo’ak laughed and then his older brother smacked him on the head. The unfamiliar terms and use of some English words intrigued you. Not many Na’vi knew English besides the Olo’eyktan—obviously being from the sky.

You began putting two and two together. The five fingers of Lo’ak and Kiri. Lo’ak’s use of English phrases you didn’t quite understand. These were the Sully children. The Olo’eyktan’s kids.

“Oh my Eywa, I am sorry. You are children of the Olo’eyktan. It is a pleasure to meet you.” You rushed out, flushed you had not picked up on it beforehand. You bowed again, urging your sisters to do the same.

“Woah, we’ve never been greeted like that before.” Lo’ak snickered and the older boy hit his head again.

“Lo’ak, stop it. Do not apologize. We are Omatikaya as much as you are. It is really our father who gets bowed to.” The older one spoke to you in a kind tone that had your face heating up in a way it had never done before.

“Well, it is still a great pleasure to meet all of you.” He grinned at you. There was something igniting inside of you just looking at his smile. Something you had never felt before.

“Can Foana and I have a playdate sometime?” Tuk spoke to you, her little voice adorable as ever. However, you were unfamiliar with the term she used.

“Playdate means like a hang out.” Kiri must’ve seen your confusion. You quickly nodded.

“Of course, anytime as long as neither of you wander off again.” You joked some, smiling down at your little sister. She grinned excitedly.

“Perfect, you may bring her over anytime or we can bring Tuk over. She has been so excited to start making new friends ever since our parents allowed her to go out more.” Kiri was so soft spoken and so gentle. Her presence alone just made you feel so warm and welcomed.

“You could bring your other siblings, too. You have two others, right?” Lo’ak spoke up more. You quickly nodded, a bit surprised he even knew that. It wasn’t like your family was well known like they were.

“Tsanten and Naria.” You did not miss the way Lo’ak’s face blushed at the mention of Naria.

“Well, bring them all and even yourself, we love the company.” Kiri beamed and you couldn’t help but smile yourself.

You hardly received invitations out often. You were always busy taking care of your siblings, cleaning up, staying in, following your parents’ orders. It didn’t leave much room for fun and going out.

Neteyam was still glancing in your direction. He just couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from your pretty hair flowing loosely down your back, or the way your eyes lit up when Kiri extended the invitation to you and the rest of your siblings.

He knew of your family through passing here and there. You were the eldest, just like him, yet he never saw you out much. Either you were hidden away in your tent, or out hunting. He knew you were a hunter because Beyral spoke of your name often.

You intrigued him. He liked the way the confusion floated over your face when Lo’ak or Tuk used phrases you didn’t understand. He liked the protective nature you held over every single one of your siblings—similar to him. How you held them close to you. He wanted to know more about you. He wanted to make you smile again because it sent an unfamiliar feeling of butterflies in his stomach that he enjoyed.

He wanted more of you. If only the two of you knew what your future held.

ONE.

Neteyam was protective over everything in his life—his parents, his siblings, and now you. Being the eldest, especially to the Olo’eyktan, it was his job becoming the protector when his father wasn’t there.

He fought off anyone who poked fun at Lo’ak or Kiri for having five fingers. He made sure someone was with Tuk at all times when she went out to the forest. He helped his mother anytime she asked whether it was with food or his siblings.

There was no denying how similar the two of you were. It was what drew him to you. You held the same protective nature as him. You took care of your siblings the same way he did. You understood the burdens he carried because you held them high on your shoulders as well.

It was when the two of you were together that he could let go of everything, even if it was just for a little bit. When the day was done and everyone was sound asleep for the night, tucked safely into their tents was when the two of you snuck out to spend time together.

It was more of a private relationship for the time being. Being the next Olo’eyktan in line, Neteyam knew that if he told people he was seeing someone it would spread like wildfire across the village. People would start talking and they probably wouldn’t ever leave you alone once the word was out. He wasn’t sure if you wanted that on top of everything else and if he was being honest, he wanted you to himself just a little while longer.

His feet worked quickly jumping from tree branch to tree branch. The luminescent forest was his guiding light through the night and he took one final swing to his destination. When he got his footing, there you were right where you met almost every night.

Your back was slumped against the tree and you hadn’t noticed him yet, instead, your gaze was focused on the glimmering stars above. Every time, Neteyam was so in awe of you. He knew how stressed you were throughout the day having to do this and that, so seeing you here waiting for him in the most relaxed state gave him a sense of pride.

“Oh, hi.” You finally noticed his looming presence. The boy grinned, walking towards you.

“Hi, sorry I am late. I had to make sure Tuk was truly asleep for the night.” The sound of your laugh made his heart swell in his chest. He snuggled himself in beside you with his head resting on your stomach.

When you put your hands across his back, all of his muscles finally relaxed. The stress slowly dissipated and everything felt right being in your arms. During the day, he was a leader who held no fear. At night when he was with you like this, none of that mattered. He didn’t have to put on the facade for you.

“She never falls asleep on time. I think she is afraid she will miss out on something. Foana is the same way.” He hummed when he felt your other hand begin brushing through his braids.

“That explains why she is always following Lo’ak and Kiri around.” Your stomach rumbled with laughter again and the vibrations were so calming to Neteyam. If he could, he would have your laugh on repeat.

“Your training, how did that go today?” Another thing Neteyam adored about you was how you never failed to ask him about his day. Any detail he told you, you remembered and talked about it the next night. He had never been listened to like that before. It made everything inside of him feel warm and appreciated like he had a purpose.

“It was okay. I think dad is getting mad at me because I can not seem to understand things as fast as he wants me to.” Neteyam sat himself up so he could look at you properly. His back fell against the tree in the same way yours did, still keeping your bodies close.

“You will get it, do not worry. It takes time learning all the ways of the Olo’eyktan. Your father probably struggled as much as you did once.” You clutched his bicep to give it a comforting squeeze. Neteyam’s gaze fell away to the sky, though. His mind beginning to turn elsewhere.

“Yes, but he was already strong when he fell into the position. He was an adult already. I am merely a teenager still.” He heard you scoff beside him.

“You are just as strong, Neteyam. Do not tell yourself you are not. You are learning and your father just wants what is best for you.” You always knew what to say to him to make him feel better. His gaze finally fell back to you, your gentle gaze making his face blush.

“I think my parents are catching up to the fact that I may be seeing someone.” You giggled, looking away as you changed subjects. Neteyam, however, stiffened up at your words.

“What do you say?”

“Well, I just laugh it off and say I am not. They do not ask much more after that.” He could not read your expression because you weren’t looking at him. He didn’t know if you were upset you had to deny it or something entirely different.

He certainly wished he didn’t have to be so private about his personal life, but he was afraid his mother wound disapprove—not that there was anything to disapprove of you. It was mostly the others in the clan. People would start talking. They would start seeking you out. You would have to start learning the ways of Tsahik, maybe (Hopefully in his mind). He wanted to make sure you were completely comfortable to be put into such a spotlight like he was before anything was really said about the two of you.

“Neteyam? Are you alright?” Your voice snapped him from his thoughts. You were already looking at him when he met your pretty golden eyes.

“Yes, sorry. I was lost in thought.” He gave you a gentle smile to reassure you.

“About what?” You loved to pick his brain though. His expression twisted and he found the need to place his arm around you and pull you closer towards him. Your head fell absently against his chest.

“It is not important.” He had this thing where he would sometimes hide his emotions from you. He did not want to burden you with this one right now.

“I feel like it is, though. I will not make you tell me, but you can if you want to.” Another feature he absolutely adored about you. You never pried, but made it known that he could tell you anything. He squeezed you a tiny bit closer as if there was anymore space left between you two.

“Are-are you..upset that our relationship is not..for the entire clan to know?” He blurted and then avoided your gaze so he wouldn’t see your expression.

“No, not necessarily. I like the privacy.” You answered honestly, but Neteyam wasn’t sure if he believed it yet or not.

“Are you lying?” You sat up more to look at him. He was gnawing at his lip, worried that you were lying.

If he could give you the world, he would. He wanted to give you everything. He wanted to show you off and take you on dates that weren’t in the dark. He wanted to hold your hand and kiss you in front of people so they knew you were his. However, he could not do any of that in fear that someone would be mean to you or say rude things. The entire clan was kind, but there were few who said things when they did not approve. Neteyam only knew because he heard the things people said about his father when he became Olo’eyktan.

He is demon blood. How would he know how to lead a clan?

Can we really trust him with our people?

What does she see in him?

Those children, they are demon blood. Five fingers.

They are not true Na’vi.

He could only imagine the things they could say when he announced his possible chosen woman. He wanted to keep you out of that. He wanted to protect you from it as much as he could.

“No, I am not lying. Why would I lie?” You gave a small chuckle; however, Neteyam was still not eased.

“Right, sorry. You would not lie about that.” He looked down, embarrassed he even thought you would lie to him. A gentle hand cupped his face and directed his attention back to you.

“What is going on in that head of yours? Tell me, it seems to be bothering you.” You observed his entire face and Neteyam was flushing under your intense stare.

He took your hands in his, squeezing gently and blowing out a long breath.

“I want to give you the world, but I can not. I only do not tell people about our relationship because I am afraid they will say things we do not like. I do not want them to hurt you and say things like they do about my father and mother. That is the only reason I have kept us from them. Not because I am embarrassed or anything of you.” Neteyam spilled his entire heart to you right then and there. He watched your face for a reaction and subconsciously prepared for a negative one.

Instead, you just grinned and stroked his hand with your thumb.

“I did not think you were embarrassed of me. I know you have a lot on your mind all the time. You do not need to explain yourself to me. I do not mind keeping our relationship private.” Your head tilted to the side, still grinning.

“I just want to make sure you are completely ready to have every eye on our relationship when and if we tell people. It is a lot of pressure and people will be talking. I do not want to just push you into that if you are not ready.” Neteyam continued.

“I am ready whenever you are ready. You worry too much about me.” You laughed and Neteyam’s head fell against your chest. You cradled the back of his head with a smile.

“So you are sure you are ready to handle it? You can tell me no.” He looked back up at you, scanning your face for any possible secret resentment you weren’t telling him.

“You forget I have thick skin. I grew up with parents who were perfecting my every move. If I can take them, I think I can handle being your girlfriend in public.”

It was then that Neteyam knew you were it for him. You held no fear in your eyes that he seemed to be harboring deep down in his depths. You were ready to be by his side under any circumstance.

He brought your face into his hands so he could pull you forward for a kiss. It was everything he could not say and everything he wanted you to know. The night was young and so were you two in that moment.

TWO.

Tonight was a big night as Neteyam ran around the hut like some mad person. He was shoving Tuk’s toys away, cleaning every single space, forcing his family to be on their best behavior—especially Lo’ak.

You were joining his family for dinner so they could properly meet you. Despite all of his siblings already knowing you, it was his parents who did not have much knowledge about you. It was mostly just name in passing, but one they never asked much about.

When Neteyam told his parents he was even seeing someone in the first place, their reactions were pretty priceless.

“Hey, mom, dad?” The eldest Sully walked into their hut while his parents worked away at their own separate projects. They turned his way at the sound of his voice.

“Yes, what it is ma son?” Neytiri questioned. The boy was flushed and picking at his fingers, unsure of how to even approach the subject.

It wasn’t that his parents were against him dating around, but he had never shown much interest beforehand, so he wasn’t sure how they were going to react now.

“I..I um-well, you see, I met this girl a few weeks ago. She is very kind, strong, intelligent, a hunter. I-I would like you to meet her one night over a dinner, maybe?” He carefully watched for their reactions.

His mother, wide-eyed, looked over at her husband. They exchanged a few glances, probably speaking with their eyes, but Neteyam had no idea what they were silently saying. He worried it was bad things.

“Oh! Yes, yes, of course. We would love to meet this girl. Who is she? Is she Omatikaya? Does she live around here?” His mother stood, embracing him while asking the hundred questions she had. His father sat back with a tiny, proud smile on his lips.

“Her name is Y/n. She is just a few huts down. She is a great hunter and warrior. Beyral speaks of her sometimes.” Neteyam explained your background as best as he could. Both of his parents were beaming widely.

“Yes, I have heard that name a few times before. She sounds wonderful, I am so excited to meet her. I had no idea you were seeing someone.” Neytiri was the most enthusiastic for her eldest. He had nearly reached all of his requirements that would make him one of the People and it was only a matter of time before he would begin looking for a future mate.

Tuk went on all day about her excitement that you would be joining them tonight. Neytiri worked all day preparing a great meal with the help of Kiri.

“Bro, I can’t believe you never told us about dating around with Y/n.” Lo’ak snickered as he helped with some of the cleaning. He earned a slap on his head for that comment.

“Well, it was not much of your business, was it?” Neteyam retorted and the younger brother only shrugged.

“I knew you were sneaking out late at night. I could just never have proof.” Another snicker and another slap. Lo’ak finally let up on his annoying teasing.

“Tuk!!” A little scream broke the boys from their conversation. Nearly everyone in the hut looked over to see a little Na’vi girl run in. Tuk was smiling widely, bringing her friend in for a hug.

“Foana! What did I say?—“ Suddenly, you appeared, grabbing at your youngest sister. Neteyam noticed your other three siblings just behind you. You met his eyes before darting them over to his parents who were glancing your way. Your entire face flushed.

“I am so sorry. Foana begged me to bring her to say hello to Tuk and then..well, I could not leave everyone else out.” You quickly explained yourself in small embarrassment. Neteyam rushed to greet you.

“Tsanten, Naria, what’s up?” Lo’ak happily got up to greet your other siblings. Ni`awtu stood shyly behind your back.

“I am so sorry for them.” You whispered to Neteyam when he was close enough. He only grinned.

“Do not apologize.” He kissed your cheek and then stepped aside for his mother who approached.

“It is nice to finally meet you, Y/n. I have heard many things.” Neteyam watched the exchange, still a tiny bit nervous for his parents approval of you. You smiled, nerves also evident behind your eyes.

“It is so nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Sully. I have heard so many things about you.” You bowed your head using the I see you gesture.

“Please, call me Neytiri. It is so nice to meet all of your siblings, as well.” She grinned again at the other little kids talking with her own children.

“Oh, thank you. They will not be staying, they just begged me to bring them to say hello.” You rushed out, eyeing each one of them to make sure they were being well-behaved in the home of the Olo’eyktan.

“Oh please, we have so much food. They can stay.” Your eyes shot to Neteyam. He only gave you a small shrug, ultimately it being your decision. He figured it would be easier to get your siblings’ introductions out of the way now too.

“Oh, no, you do not have to do that.” You shook your head, but Neytiri was persistent.

“It is no trouble. I insist.” She gently touched your arm. Neteyam could tell you were not used to such hospitality. He also touched your arm and you glanced his way. He nodded, saying if his mother thought it was okay, then it was okay for them to stay.

If anything, it would hopefully keep Lo’ak out of trouble or saying things he shouldn’t if he had other people to talk to that he liked. That was Neteyam’s biggest concern of the night, really.

“Okay, thank you, really.” You thanked Neytiri by bowing your head once more. She grinned and then walked away.

Jake came next to greet you. Neteyam knew you were worrying about him more than anything. He was Olo’eyktan and Toruk Makto after all and it was the most important to get his approval.

“Hello, Y/n. I am glad to finally meet you.” You bowed to him which he did the same back.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” Neteyam watched as you urged your siblings to bow before his father as well. They listened to you, doing as told.

You held such power over the little ones, but not in a bad way. Neteyam wondered if they listened to you more than your own parents. You had told him many stories of you becoming the main parent for your siblings growing up. Your parents were very absent. They were always on hunting trips, so it often left you caring for them. The eldest Sully could tell it wore you down—slumped shoulders, tired eyes, callouses on each of your hands, cuts, and bruises.

“Please, please, come in. Make yourselves at home. Our hut is your hut.” Jake ushered all of you in further. You smiled at him, not quite understanding the phrase, but you knew it was a kind one by his tone and expression.

“Y/n! Y/n! Guess what I did this week?” Tuk grabbed at your arm. You smiled down at her and crouched to her eye level.

“What did the mighty Tuk do this week?” Neteyam smiled at the way you ruffled up her hair.

“I caught my very first fish!” The little girl jumped up and down in excitement.

“That is amazing, Tuk! I am so proud of you!” You squeezed her tightly.

“Tell her how big it was.” Neteyam encouraged. His little sister held out her arms wider than herself. Your eyes widened.

“No way. That is bigger than you!” She giggled in excitement.

“I know! Everyone was so excited for me.”

“I certainly hope they were. That is a great accomplishment little Tuk.” You stood and Neteyam beamed at you. He saw your face flush a bit.

“You know she adores you, right?” He reached up to push some of your hair away from your eyes. You were wearing it loose like usual and some of it was pinned back with little petals hooked into it.

You blushed again. Neteyam loved how he could always make you blush like that.

The night went on just the way Neteyam planned. His parents asked you and your siblings many questions which you all happily answered. Just by the smiles and exchanges, Neteyam knew his parents loved you already which relieved him. He was worried something would go wrong. Lo’ak even managed to keep his comments to a minimal and mostly because he didn’t want to look like some fool in front of Naria.

Later, after helping his mom clean up, Neteyam went looking for you. He stopped short when he saw you sitting with Tuk, Foana, and Ni`awtu. You were playing some game with some sticks with them. There was a large smile on your face as you laughed at what Tuk would say. Even your sister, Ni`awtu, was smiling despite how shy she came off as.

Neteyam felt a hand come around his back. His mother appeared next to him, also watching the scene unfold. The sun began to set and eclipse was near. The forest was illuminating around you four. It was the prettiest sight Neteyam had ever seen—you with his little sister playing her games she always made up.

“She is a wonderful woman, Neteyam.” He smiled, glancing his mother’s way for a moment.

“So you like her?”

“We love her. If you do decide one day, she will make a great mate.” A small wave of relief washed through the older boy. He was so glad his parents approved of you.

Now it was just a matter of telling the rest of the clan. He knew most of them would be as supportive as his parents, but there was always the handful that had something to say. Neteyam would do his best to protect you from those who would say things.

Although, for now he would just enjoy the scene in front of him. He wanted to keep the warm feeling bubbling up in his chest for as long as possible. You were utterly perfect in his eyes.

“Neteyam! Come join us!” Tuk had noticed his presence. His mother squeezed his arm before letting him go. You made room for him to join the circle. The two of you exchanged a glance, knowing exactly what the other was saying.

You were definitely a keeper.

THREE.

Neteyam knew you were an excellent fighter. You were the best in the age group every time you went for trainings. He was always so in awe anytime he watched you skillfully use your bow and arrow to hit the targets on the ground from above. Or, your stealth as you dodged in and out of the trees. He knew he could never be as great of a fighter as you were.

However, with that also came the fear he held every time you left to go on missions. This one in particular was an especially dangerous one. His father appointed you to the head and it even shocked Neteyam a bit when he was told to hang back on this one but you were going.

You sat on the ground between his legs as he worked separate little braids into your hair for you. The only time you ever wore braids was for these missions or when you went hunting.

Neteyam did not want you to know he was worrying and playing every single worse case scenario in his head, so he kept quiet as his fingers worked quickly through your hair. However, his leg was bouncing right beside your head and that was hard for you to keep ignoring.

“Neteyam, are you alright?” You placed your hand over his knee. He realized it was bouncing and quickly stopped.

“Yes, I am fine.” You twisted your head around, pausing his braiding for a moment. The look on your face told him you didn’t believe him.

“Liar. What is wrong? Tell me.” You urged and Neteyam knew he couldn’t keep being quiet anymore.

“I am just worried is all. It always happens when you leave for missions like these.” He admitted, forcing a smile so you didn’t see all of his worry. You frowned a bit.

“You know you have nothing to worry about. I am a warrior. I always have been. When have I not come back from one of these?” Your tone was more of a “duh” tone. It didn’t ease Neteyam’s fear though.

“You never know what can happen, though.” He quickly make his defense. Instead of meeting your eyes, he just continued to work away at your hair.

“I suppose I do not, but you trust me, right? You trust your father. He would not send me into something dangerous.” Of course, Neteyam trusted both of you. It was the Sky People he had no trust in. He had seen them fight and the way they always had the upper hand with their crazy machine guns.

“Of course, but I am even not going. Is that not saying something?” He made a face and you were unsure what to say.

Neteyam finished off the last of your braids. The ends jingled together with the beads he added in. They were some of his own and he smiled at the fact that you two were going to match.

He turned you around and dipped his fingers into the bowl of paint beside his leg. You stayed still as he traced it around your face. He thought how jealous Lo’ak would be that you got to wear the war paint he didn’t on missions.

The two of you were silent. The feeling in the air changed ever since you didn’t know how to respond to Neteyam’s last statement.

You stood to look at yourself in the mirror when your face was done. The blue and yellow streaks went down your cheeks and around your eyes.

“Here, do not forget these.” Neteyam stood with your riding visor. He gently reached up to hook it around your ears.

You never flew with a riding visor, but then Neteyam made you one because he was worried about the wind drying out your eyes. You had happily accepted his very thoughtful gift and ever since then, you never rode without it.

“I am a warrior. I will make it back.” He felt comfort in the way you squeezed his arm. Your gaze was on him with a reassuring expression.

“I know you will. I just worry about you.” He cupped your face into his hands, bringing you towards him more.

“I have been doing this my whole life. I have my transmitter, too, so you will be able to listen in.” You placed the collar just above your necklaces and then hooked the earpiece into your ear. Neteyam remembered how thrilled you were when Jake gifted it you.

“We’re off in five minutes, everyone. Be ready!” Jake spoke through your ear. You glanced towards the opening where others headed out to their ikrans.

Neteyam brought your forehead against his. He closed his eyes, breathing you in and savoring every single detail about you just in case.

“Good luck. Be safe.” You smiled at his Earth phrases and brushed your hand along his cheek.

“I will see you soon.” He brought you in for one more kiss. His lips worked a bit rough like it was the last kiss he would give you. He was worrying that much.

You were the one to pull away, knowing you had to be out there very soon. He leaned into your touch when you kissed his cheek and then hurried out of his grasp. Neteyam hurried outside of your hut to watch you take off.

His dad took the lead as he dove off the cliff first. You were quick to follow, disappearing from his view almost immediately. Others in the clan who stayed behind clapped for the war party. Neteyam’s worry was only piling higher in his stomach, already anxiously awaiting your return.

—

Hours felt like days in his mind as he paced around his own hut. Tuk was in the corner playing with her toys and Kiri eyed on her older brother as he paced.

“Brother, you need to stop worrying so much. You know she will make it back. Y/n is very strong.” Kiri tried reassuring the anxious boy in front of her.

“I know, I know. This mission was a dangerous one, though. Dad did not even let Lo’ak and I go, yet he had Y/n go?” The logic still didn’t make much sense in Neteyam’s head. He wasn’t trying to discredit your abilities, but if you were going, he should’ve at least came along too.

“You have to remember that Y/n has been a warrior her whole life. Even when she was a kid. She was out hunting when she could walk. This is in her nature. Your father knows that and he knows she is a very useful asset to this mission.” His mother piped in from the other side of the hut. He didn’t even known she was listening to the conversation.

“Yeah, what mom said. She’s been fighting like this her whole life. She knows how to handle herself.” Kiri added on.

“Yeah, plus, she doesn’t always need you at her side and call.” Lo’ak had piped in now and Neteyam glared at him. Since when did his whole family become involved in this conversation.

“I am just trying to protect her.” He said in defense to what his younger brother said. Lo’ak just shrugged.

“Ma son, I know it is scary to not know what is happening, but we need to trust the Great Mother and everyone on that mission. They know what they are doing.” Neytiri squeezed Neteyam’s arm for comfort. The boy sighed, but nodded.

As if on cue, people started shouting outside of their hut. In the distance, ikran calls filled their ears. Neteyam instantly knew what that meant—the war party was returning. Everyone in the hut ran outside to greet them and check for any major injuries if any.

Jake’s ikran landed roughly atop the rocky cliff. You flew in not a moment later. The crowds were thick around the edge and it was hard to truly see what was going on. Being as tall as he was, Neteyam still could not see that well past the others trying to get a closer look.

He did not know where you were. You must have gotten down from your ikran, because it’s back was empty and there was no sign of you. Neteyam tried to push through some of the crowd, but it wasn’t much use because no one wanted to move.

“I heard it was bad. Many people were injured.”

“I can not believe he let that little girl go on such a dangerous mission.”

“This was one of their toughest missions yet.”

The words floated around his head as he heard people muttering to one another. He tried not to picture the worst for you. You had made it back, he knew that, but were you severely injured? Neteyam’s heart was practically beating a hole in his chest trying to find you.

Finally, he caught sight of some familiar braids and war paint near the edge of the crowd. He recognized Tsanten and Ni`awtu at your side hugging you.

“Y/n!” He finally was able to break out of the group. He hurried to you, joining in on your siblings’ group hug. He felt the way you clutched the back of his head with one hand and the other held onto his arm with a firm grip.

“Are you okay? Are you injured?” Neteyam pulled back to back to examine your face for any injuries.

Despite the minor cuts and scrapes, nothing looked too alarming to his knowledge. You had a pretty large gnash on your back, but it wasn’t bleeding out profusely or anything.

“No, I am not injured. Just scraped up.” You gave him a tiny smile. He was glad he got to see that again as he cupped your face and placed a quick peck onto your lips.

“Come on, I am sure Mo’at has medicine for these cuts.” You let Neteyam lead you away from the crowds and back to the huts. He sat you down on the ground and then disappeared to find his grandmother.

When he returned he had a handful of herbs, creams, oils, and bandages in his arms. You giggled at the sight.

“I did not think you were much of a healer.” He dropped everything at your side and then kneeled down to your level.

“Well my grandmother is the Tsahik after all. I happen to know one or two things.” Neteyam argued, his lips dancing with a tiny smile.

He gently worked to take your visor off and then wiped away the war paint. He knew you didn’t like to talk about the missions right away, so he enjoyed the comfortable silence between you two instead.

Neteyam’s hands were gentle as he rubbed the special herbs against your skin. You would occasionally hiss when it hurt a little bit more and he would mumble something about how he was almost done and you were doing so well.

He certainly wasn’t a healer like his grandmother or Kiri who had a special hand at medicine, but it meant a lot to both of you when he would heal your wounds for youor, when you would heal his after a long hunting day.

“Many, many people got hurt today.” You spoke after some silence. Neteyam hummed behind you.

“It was that bad?”

“Their machines are just so powerful. We are no match with our bows and arrows sometimes. They had to have known we were coming because they attacked back at us so harshly.” You shook your head some and Neteyam knew there was vivid images replaying in your mind.

“It is so hard to understand why they want us dead. If they were just a bit kinder then maybe there could be more peace worked out.” You continued on with your little rant, frustration becoming set in your body language. Your shoulders fell tense under the Sully boy’s hands.

“You know how hard they have tried with us. Someone always gets hurt. I suppose after all the failed efforts they have no other choice but violence, unfortunately.” Neteyam knew all about the schools his mother once attended in her earlier years. It seemed like the Sky People tried making an effort, but nothing ever held permanently.

“I know, it is just so frustrating. Tsanten and Naria are growing to that age where they will be old enough to go out on their own. I worry for them and what those demons could do to them.” A scowl sat on your face. Neteyam turned you around, cupping your face in his hands.

“I know how terrifying it can be. I worry for my siblings everyday, but you are very strong and you will be able to teach them well.” You smiled, but it didn’t stay for long as you casted your gaze away from him.

“I just wish I was not the one to always do it. My parents pay no attention to them anymore. They are always away. It should not be my job to teach my siblings every single life skill they will ever need.” You pushed yourself up from the ground, leaving Neteyam’s grasp.

He watched you wander to the entryway where you stared at the people moving about outside. Many were still tending to those who were wounded more worse than you.

Neteyam wasn’t a complete open book, but when he was with you, he felt comfortable enough to share the things bothering him the most. You, on the other hand, had a more harder time opening up to him. He knew you trusted him, but he couldn’t pull everything from you. He knew you parents were strict and absent people, always being away, which is why you held so much responsibility and burden. However, he didn’t know much more than that. You always closed it off.

Hearing what you were saying now, though, it was more than what you would usually say. Neteyam got up to join you at the entryway.

“You are right, it should not be your job, but unfortunately it is. You do a great job at teaching them and raising them.” His hand fell against your back. You leaned a tiny bit closer to him while your gaze was on Foana and Tuk a few feet away.

“I worry that they think I am too hard on them, but I am really just trying to help them survive on their own.” In that moment, Neteyam realized something. His whole life, his parents taught him how to hunt, fish, make kills, but their biggest motto was “Sully’s stick together.”

While yes, he was learning things on his own, he was also learning that he wouldn’t have to be alone because his family would always have his back. You did not have that.

You were the one who would always have your siblings’ back, but they wouldn’t always necessarily have yours. You were teaching them to survive on their own, not to depend on one another like he was taught growing up. Independence was a key feature of your family dynamic. Dependence was the key feature of his family dynamic.

“You are not too hard on them. You are doing what you know and hoping they will learn it too. It is a great feature to know you will always be dependable for them. However, you can always depend on me if you ever needed something.” You met his gaze and Neteyam smiled warmly at you.

“Your words are too kind. Thank you, my love.” Neteyam’s ears perked up. He had never heard that nickname before from you. You giggled upon seeing his surprised reaction.

“No, thank you, pretty girl.” He engulfed his arms around your shoulders to bring you into his chest. You chuckled and he knew you didn’t quite understand his nickname he gave you, but it didn’t matter.

He thought that maybe you going out on these missions weren’t so bad as long as he was the one to patch you up afterwards—and he always was going to be the one patching you up every. single. time.

FOUR.

Neteyam ventured out on a day-long hunting expedition with his father, brother, and even your own little brother. You remembered how excited Tsanten was when Jake approached him one night to ask if he wanted to tag along to get some pointers from the older guys.

It warmed your heart to see Neteyam’s family being so welcome to your own. Tsanten didn’t have your dad to take him out like this, so being able to finally go out was like a dream come true for him, especially with the Olo’eyktan.

You had a pretty slow day considering Neytiri decided to take Tuk, Kiri, and your other three sisters out for what she liked to call a “girls day.” She extended the invite to you, but you figured with everyone out of the hut was a great opportunity to get some cleaning done.

With a job that would usually take hours, it only took about two and you were done by noon. Toys were put away; the rug was cleaned; things were put back where they belonged—the entire hut looked spotless.

You ended up venturing over to the Sully residence to see if Neytiri and the girls returned yet. You thought it was empty approaching since it was practically silent until you saw Mo’at sitting near the back grinding some of her herbs together.

She caught your eye before you could walk away. You had never really spoken to the Tsahik before. Most times, you would send your siblings in if they had gotten hurt and waited outside for them. You knew she was a woman of few words despite being so highly respected within the clan.

You bowed to her.

“You must be Neteyam’s…oh what do they say..girlfriend?” The older woman cracked a tiny smile causing you to flush.

“I suppose so, yes. I apologize for interrupting you.” You nodded to her bowl of herbs. She waved you off though, beckoning you inside.

“I come here sometimes to get away when I want to be alone. There is always someone bursting into my hut needing fixing.” You smiled a bit, sitting down beside the older Na’vi.

“I understand. It is always nice to get away sometimes.” She smiled, glad you understood her.

You felt a bit strange being in Neteyam’s home without him there. Ever since the family dinner, you had only been over a handful of times, so being here alone with just his grandmother was definitely different. The usual organized chaos that filtered through his home was replaced with tranquility as the day grew shorter.

“You are a hunter and warrior correct?” Mo’at spoke up again. Flushing that she knew that about you, you nodded.

“Those are very useful skills to have as a Na’vi like you. I am impressed, especially with how much my grandson tells me about you.” She waved her finger around. You were sure that if Neteyam was here he would be embarrassed she had said that.

“Thank you, Mo’at. My parents grew up that way, so they raised me the same.” Your parents had always been die-hard warriors, so it was practically in all of your blood to become just like them one day.

“I do not see your parents around as often as I used to.” Who knew the Tsahik knew so much about your family. You scratched the back of your ear to find some excuse that didn’t sound horrible to tell her.

“They are always on hunting trips. They like to travel a lot.” Not a complete lie, but not exactly the entire truth.

“I see, I see. They always seemed to be very ambitious people.” You nodded. Yes, ambitious was certainly one way to describe them.

“It is mostly just my siblings and I around the hut. They like to take very long hunting trips.” Mo’at nodded once again.

“Yes, Neteyam says that you are the main caretaker of your siblings.” You flushed again. How much was Neteyam actually talking about you when you weren’t around? A lot, apparently.

“That task can be rather daunting, but he says you handle it very well. All of your siblings seem like very respectful people.” She continued before you could respond. You smiled. That compliment meant a lot coming from Tsahik of the village.

“Thank you, that means a lot coming from you.” She grinned at you while continuing to crush and grind away in her little bowl.

“Would you like to try?” She looked down at the bowl. You flushed realizing she was asking you to help grind up her herbs.

“Oh, sure.” She switched places with you and you began doing exactly what she had done. You crushed them down into tiny little bits and pieces.

“This could be your job one day.” Mo’at eyed you as she added in another handful. Your entire face deepened into a darker shade of blue.

“Oh..I do not know about that. Maybe?” You liked Neteyam a lot, but you two were teenagers still. His selection for a mate was still so far away and he would not become Olo’eyktan for quite some time.

“You like my grandson, no?” For a woman of few words, Mo’at seemed to have a lot to talk about with you.

“Yes, I do. He is a lovely young man.” You weren’t sure, but you thought you saw her grin from the corner of you eye.

“I do not know much about..what does Jakesully say..teenage love, but I know my grandson likes you a lot. He talks and talks about you so much. I know it can be scary stepping into that kind of love, but I usually do not steer wrong when I watch my children fall in love. I was not wrong about Jakesully and my daughter.” Hearing all of this coming from Tsahik meant so much to you. You held a lot of respect for the older Na’vi and now she was sitting beside you giving you advice about relationships like you were one of her own.

“Your hunting and warrior skills matched with your caretaking skills would make a wonderful Tsahik one day if that is what happens.” She squeezed your arm and everything in you felt so warm and comforted. No one had ever said things like that to you before and hearing it from Mo’at made it even more special.

“You are too kind. Thank you.” You flushed for the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes. Mo’at grinned once more.

“I know a kind soul when I see one. Eywa would not have brought you and Neteyam together if she was not wanting you two to be together in that way.” Obviously, Mo’at would know best when it came to Eywa. You smiled, glancing back down at the herbs.

Maybe one day this would be your fate.

—

Neteyam returned from his day-long hunting trip exhausted and ready to collapse into his hammock for a long nap. His mother was there to greet him with a kiss to the cheek and to his surprise, his grandmother was sitting inside eating her bowl of food.

“Hello, grandmother.” He bowed to her and she nodded back.

“Hello, my grandson. How was the trip?” Neteyam shrugged some, dropping his belongings to the ground for now. It was as best as it could be with Lo’ak being his usual self plus an added friend along for the ride.

“It was very informative. Father gave us great tips.” That part was not a lie. Jake always gave his sons great pointers for making their kills.

“That is great, I am very glad. I had a nice visit with your Y/n today.” Neteyam’s eyes widened a bit.

“You did? When?” He suddenly worried his grandmother told her embarrassing things about him or exposed how he would talk about her all the time.

“She stopped by here looking for you, I think, but I was here instead. I offered inside and we had a very nice chat. She is a wonderful young woman.” Neteyam couldn’t help but smile hearing that. You were amazing. He was glad to hear his grandmother liked her as much as he did.

“She would make a very wonderful Tsahik one day. She has nearly every skill necessary without even having much training for the position.” Mo’at eyed her grandson. Neteyam’s entire face flushed, but he also felt a sense of pride. You were great at nearly everything, he wasn’t surprised Mo’at thought that.

“Well, I hope one day it will happen. We are still young and—“

“Tsahik knows everything, son. It will happen.” Neteyam watched his grandmother beam at him widely. He flushed once more and then tried to hide the smirk forming on his lips by looking away.

In his head, he knew you were the one for him, but that was never definite. Hearing his grandmother basically confirm it was enough for him. You were it for him. Through and through.

FIVE.

You hadn’t snuck out during the night in awhile. Neteyam suggested it would be a nice way to get your minds off of things and just be with each other for a bit since your siblings were always interrupting or needing something.

Neteyam swung along the oh so familiar path to the tree he had taken so many times before. Eclipse had just begun and every time he was so amazed at how the forest lit up around him. It made Pandora that much more magical.

Like always, you had beaten him to the spot. Except this time, you weren’t alone. Your ikran was perched a few feet away and you had your riding visor on. Neteyam grew suspicious, but you only grinned at him.

“I thought we could go for a ride. We haven’t flown during Eclipse in so long.” You freckles were glowing and Neteyam could see the large smile on your face and your eagerness to fly.

“I did not bring any of my things and I only have my—“ You cut him off by revealing your hands that were hidden behind your back. You held his riding visor in your hands.

“I knew you would say that, so I planned ahead.” Neteyam could only smile at you. You always thought of everything.

“What if we get attacked or something?” Neteyam was still skeptical. He loved riding at Eclipse with you, but he felt under prepared if anything happened while you two were out.

“Nothing will happen, I promise. If it makes you feel any better, I have my bow. Come on, we have not ridden in so long.” You were tugging at his hand and he couldn’t resist your pleas. He took his visor from your hands and smiled.

“Okay, fine. Let’s do it.” He would do anything to be able to make you smile like you were right now. He called for his ikran while you hopped up on yours.

Once you two were both on, you exchanged a glance. There was a playful smirk on your lips as you pushed your visor down. Neteyam grew curious of the look.

“Last one to Ayram Alusing loses!” And then you were off before Neteyam could even process what you had said.

He quickly took off with you already five paces ahead of him. He had no idea how you gained so much speed already while he struggled to even pick up momentum. The wind blew against his face, making it burn some of his skin that was not protected. It was definitely not working in his favor tonight.

“You are losing, Neteyam!” He heard you call from ahead of him. He growled some and focused all of his energy into catching up to you.

He was finally able to catch up to your side. He smirked over at you.

“Who is losing now?” He teased and pushed ahead ignoring the harsh breeze as best as he could.

The two of you soared through the sky, the Hallelujah Mountains just ahead. Neteyam had the lead, but you were just on his tail, literally. If you reached out, you could probably touch the end of his ikran.

You had a competitive spirit, so there was no way you were letting yourself loose to Neteyam. From his peripheral, he saw you creeping up on him.

“You can not win everything, Y/n!” He called over to you, but there was something in your eye telling him you were definitely not losing this round.

He tried focusing through the bond to get his ikran to pull ahead as the first two mountains came up. However, you blew right past him like magic and crossed the imaginary finish like. Neteyam sighed in defeat as you pumped your arms up and down for another victory.

“I told you I would win. You do not win against me.” The eldest Sully still smiled nonetheless, enjoying seeing you so happy. He would lose a hundred times to you to be able to see you as happy and carefree as you were right now.

“My apologies, I should have known I had no chance.” Neteyam held his hands up in surrender. The little smirk continued to dance on your lips as you took off to keep flying around the mountains.

The boy stuck close to your side, the two of you smiling widely as you weaved in and around the large rock formations. You would occasionally dive over the larger branches hanging out to make it a game.

Neteyam felt like his parents where he knew they still snuck out at later hours of the night to do this. It was so thrilling, yet so relaxing at the same time. The breeze had finally died down and it no longer felt like bullets pelting his skin as he rode.

“You want to rest here? There is an open spot.” You pointed up ahead at a clearing in one of the mountain tops. Neteyam nodded and followed you to the landing.

You jumped off your ikran, taking in your surroundings. The entire area was glowing its bioluminescent glow. Each flora, leaf, tree moss, everything was shining bright acting as the light in the dark night.

“That was easily the best ride I have had in awhile. What about you?” You flipped your visor up and turned to Neteyam. In a swift move, he snaked his arms around your waist to bring you closer.

“That certainly was a great ride, but maybe next time you will lose the race here.” He grinned and earned an eye roll from you.

“In your dreams. You may be future Olo’eyktan, but you can never win against me.” You shook your head and Neteyam only chuckled.

“And you may be future Tsahik one day, so that competitive nature may need to die down a bit.” He smirked and your face flushed. You broke away from his grasp to look up at the blue-purple sky.

“Your grandmother speaks of the same thing.” You smiled, thinking about your time with Mo’at a few weeks ago.

“Is that what you two talked about that one day?” Neteyam questioned, always wondering what his grandmother could possibly be saying to you when he wasn’t around.

“She is a very kind lady. She knows what she is talking about.” You laughed some. Neteyam cringed knowing she definitely embarrassed him during that conversation.

“Did she say anything about me?” He had to ask even if he didn’t want to know.

“Oh, so many things. She loves you.” You found a comfortable spot against one of the trees to stargaze. Neteyam joined you.

“Anything embarrassing?” Your tiny giggle told him all he needed to know. He internally face palmed.

“If I told you, it would ruin the fun.” You grinned and Neteyam knew that Mo’at definitely embarrassed the shit out of him. Wonderful.

“Well, I am serious about your future Tsahik fate. Just think, you and I head of the clan one day. It would be perfect.” Neteyam threw his arm around you and you giggled at the image appearing in your head.

The Sully boy pictured it too. It looked very similar to his mother and father right now. You would still be a warrior while also caring for the people when they needed it. He would wear the large feather chest piece and headpiece his father wore—planning hunting trips, war parties, overseeing the entire clan. The future was so close yet so far. He knew it would be before him soon.

For now though, he wouldn’t worry about that and enjoyed the time he was spending with you by his side. It was enough waking up in the early hours of the morning, spending hours on specific skills, he didn’t need to wish it upon himself right now.

“Well, if it does happen, at least the people seem content with your choice of..me.” You giggled at your wording. Neteyam smiled.

“It is a miracle no one has talked much. I think they know my father will be at their throats considering I am their son if they did say anything about you.”

“I knew it would be fine. You worry too much sometimes, you know.” You poked at his chest, making him squirm away from you.

“I am merely just caring about you. It is not worry.” Neteyam attempted to defend himself, but it was clear he had a weak defense.

“You also worry. Do not be afraid to admit it. It is charming knowing you worry so much.” Another grin came from you.

“Well of course I am going to worry and care. It is who I am.” You pulled him back towards you so he could cuddle into you.

“And I love who you are.” You cradled his head, pulling your hand through his pretty braids.

He almost said it. He almost had the courage to tell you.

Jake taught Neteyam the phrase when he once asked what it meant after hearing him tell it to his mother. Jake explained how it was much more intimate than I see you. It was something the Sky People would tell those they cared deeply for.

Neteyam had been wanting to say it you for ages, but he never thought it was the right time. He didn’t know how you would react. Would you freak out? Would you say it back? Did you love him? He for sure loved you, but he wasn’t sure if you reciprocated his feelings that much. He didn’t want to scare you with such a meaningful phrase. It seemed like the right time, but it also didn’t at the same time.

Instead, he nuzzled his head further into you and breathed you in. He savored the way your hair smelled—somehow it always smelled like fresh flowers. He listed to your heartbeat, nearly putting him to sleep. The moment was taking him over. It was complete bliss and comfort being in your arms.

THE ONE TIME HE SAID IT.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

You planned a cute little picnic in the forest for you and Neteyam. He was dragged out of his hut with instructions to keep his eyes closed or he would ruin the surprise. Your grip on his hand was tight as he was dragged through the forest, occasionally knocking his head against a low hanging branch you forgot to push out of the way.

“Y/n, that was the third branch. Where are we going?” He laughed trying to figure out where he was, but it wasn’t much luck considering he was blindfolded.

“Just be patient. You will love it.” You hoped he would love it. You worked to put it together all day yesterday, so if he didn’t like it you’d be damned.

Trusting you, Neteyam kept accepting hits to the head and scratches to the arm knowing it had to be worth it in the end.

When you two finally arrived at your destination, you pulled the cloth from his eyes. He squinted, not used to the bright light, but when his vision finally leveled out, he was in awe of what he saw.

The little clearing had been decorated with numerous vines that wrapped around each tree branch. Flower petals were scatted along the ground. It looked like something from his dreams.

“Surprise! What do you think? A picnic in the forest.” You held your arms out, excitement bouncing across your face. Neteyam was still speechless at the effort that must’ve been put into all of it.

“You did this all for me?” You nodded, leading him further in.

“Of course I did. I had some help from Kiri and my sisters, but you deserve it after all the work you have been doing.” You turned to him, grinning widely. Neteyam cupped your face trying to find the words to express his gratitude.

“You are the best person ever. Thank you, my love.” He pecked your lips and then went to see what you had packed for your picnic.

You joined him on the blanket Neytiri let you use while Neteyam immediately began eating anything he saw. You laughed at his actions.

“Someone has not eaten yet today?”

“Oh, you have no idea. I have been out since the eclipse ended training with my father.” You grinned, glad you could feed him.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

Since it was a spur the moment surprise, neither of you thought to bring any weapons with you besides the knives you always carried. It was a part of the forest only Na’vi went. There was no possible way danger could lurk around the corner or behind a tree.

“If you could come back as anything you wanted, what what you want to come back as?” Neteyam laid across the blanket staring up at the clear sky. Your head was beside his as you laid the other way. Your stomach’s were full of food and now you were just relaxing in the sun.

“Anything?” That was a hard question. There was so many things you wanted to be.

“Anything.”

“I think I would want to come back as an ikran. They are so beautiful and just imagine being able to go anywhere you wanted basically. Flying through the sky with your rider. It sounds like such a dream.” You adored your rides with your ikran and being one would be a whole other level you would want to experience.

“I think I would want to come back as one of the good scientists like Norm or Dr. Max.” Neteyam’s answer surprised you and even himself. Sky People were evil and even some didn’t fully trust the good scientists who stayed behind, but he wanted to know what it felt like to live as human.

His father told him and his siblings countless stories of his time being apart of the Sky People and it always intrigued Neteyam.

“I know it sounds crazy, but my father told us so many stories as his time as one of them. It just seems so interesting to me.” He continued his reasoning when you didn’t respond.

“I understand it. I think it would be interesting to live as them for a day.” It was strange to Neteyam. Sky People could live like his people whenever they chose to, but he could not live like them. There was no science to make human bodies for Na’vi people who wanted the experience.

He got a lot of exposure from Spider, but it wasn’t really the same. Neteyam wanted to see it, feel it for himself.

“I have just always felt human because of my father’s blood. Even though I do not have the five fingers like Lo’ak and Kiri, I still have half of his blood in me.” Neteyam tore his gaze to his hands. His long, thin fingers that were just like his mother’s and Tuk’s.

His parents liked to say he took on more of Neytiri’s genes while Lo’ak gained Jake’s.

“It is okay to wonder and want to feel it, Neteyam. You are half human, half Na’vi. It is good you are curious.” You reached up to caress his cheek and the boy leaned into your touch.

“It just feels wrong, though. The Sky People are demons. They hurt us. Why do I want to wonder more about them?” In a sense, he also felt guilt. He knew how much his mother despised those people and even sometimes Spider because he was one of them. Why should he want to know more when all they did was hurt people?

“Do not feel guilty for wondering. Your father was them once upon a time,” He grinned at your english phrase you used. Him and Lo’ak were definitely rubbing off on you. “And he is a good human. You can still wonder and want to be like them and still be good. Norm and Max are good Sky People. It is your blood, your ancestors. Do not feel bad for wanting to wonder.” Neteyam liked the reassurance you were giving him. He was worried he sounded crazy or something.

He was about to respond when his ears twitched for a second and he suddenly got a random chill across his arms. A faint rustling noise floated into his ears. He quickly sat up.

Normally, he wouldn’t have been so alarmed, but the way his skin started to crawl told him it wasn’t some animal lurking.

“Neteyam? What is wrong?” You sat up seeing his quick change in demeanor.

“Shh, be quiet for a second.” He held his finger to his lips. His eyes bounced around the area you two were in and he grabbed for his knife.

The rustling noise continued and it got closer to where you guys were. Neteyam grabbed your arm, making you stand up with him. His actions were frightening you because you didn’t know what was going on.

“Someone else is here.” He whispered to you. He felt his heart beating a bruise into his chest at the idea of someone else lurking close by.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

A noise and then an arrow was flying just above your heads. You screamed out of instinct and fear. Neteyam’s hand was back on you about to hide behind a tree. When he spun around, two larger hands with a much stronger grip grabbed ahold of the two of you.

You screamed again. Neteyam hit them with his knife causing a minor distraction. He spun away from the prying hands, until four more people emerged from the bushes, large guns in their hands. He suddenly stopped, knowing he couldn’t take them with just a knife.

“Well, look at what we have here. Looks like we crashed someone’s date.” Neteyam knew it wasn’t a true Na’vi by the way they wore full clothes and spoke in english to him. It was Avatars.

The one, tall with a buzz cut haircut, crouched down to be at his eye level. Neteyam hissed at him as he scanned his entire face with his eyes. He held his knife out for defense.

“I heard you talking a few moments ago. You said your father was from the..Sky People. Your father doesn’t happen to be Jake Sully, does it?” With the English Neteyam did understand, he knew this guy was bad and clearly had his dad on his radar.

“Oe rä’ä tslam nga.” (I do not understand you) Neteyam growled out. The avatar looked at him, quirking his eyebrow and exchanging a glance with his accomplices with him.

You continued to struggle in the hands that held a tight grip on you.

“If you tell me where your father is, I’ll let her go.” He nodded towards you. Neteyam only hissed at him once more, knife high, ready to strike.

“Or we can do this the hard way, it’s up to you. You are definitely your father.” The avatar man grabbed Neteyam’s hand. He examined his fingers, raising his eyebrow once more.

“Sure didn’t get his genes though, that’s for sure.” The others snickered around them. Neteyam pulled his hand back, unsure of what to do. If he went for a hit, they wound shoot and he didn’t want that to happen.

His eyes gazed over at you. You met his gaze, the same unsureness resting in your look. If you were scared, Neteyam couldn’t tell because you hid it well.

He couldn’t call in his dad because that would just lead this guy right to him. He was out of any good options.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

“All you have to do is tell me where your dad is and no one will get hurt.” Neteyam thought of an idea.

He slowly raised his hands in means of surrender. The guy looked at him, curious. Neteyam set his knife down by his feet and then slowly moved his hands to where his transmitter sat on his neck.

He pushed into the buttons and began speaking in Na’vi since these guys clearly didn’t understand it as well as he could speak it.

(Let’s pretend this is Na’vi because I can’t translate the entire conversation 😌)

“Dad, we’re under attack, I need help.” Neteyam glanced warily at the man standing before him who watched his moves carefully.

“Neteyam? Where are you?” His dad came into his ear, urgent and worried.

“In the forest where the open clearing is. Avatar men with guns. We’re surrounded.”

“We? Who is we?”

“Y/n and I. We need your help.” The guy wasn’t exactly picking up on what Neteyam was saying which was good. His plan was working so far.

“Okay, we’re on our way.” And then he was out. Neteyam knew two things after that: one, his father was a much better fighter than these guys were. He was Na’vi, he had years and years to adapt. He could take these guys out easily. Two, his dad wasn’t going to give himself up to this guy and if they could defeat him, it wouldn’t even be in the question.

“He is coming now.” Neteyam spoke in english so the guy understood. He quirked his eyebrow once more, almost surprised.

“Well, that was easier than I thought it would be.” The others chucked around them. Behind his back, Neteyam made a small hand signal to you that he hoped you would understand.

Suddenly, there was a screech. You had bitten the arm that was holding you. Neteyam used that distraction to grab his knife from the ground. He went for the guy’s leg.

You wrestled out of the grasp. The others went for you, but being the skilled warrior you were, it was easy to take them out. You swung your leg around, taking one out with your foot.

Neteyam slashed the leg of the guy and went for his gun. His father had taught him and Lo’ak how to use one, so he knew exactly where to go to blow the amo out of it.

He used his knife to slash another one’s arm. It was pure chaos. Blood sputtered every which direction and the others were trying to fire their guns at you two. You were quicker than them, though. You knocked them from their hands and kicked their legs out.

One particular cut Neteyam made went across the entire face of one of the avatars.

“Quaritch, we need to fall back. We can’t take this many losses right now.” One of them urgently spoke to the one Neteyam slashed the leg of.

“I need Jake Sully. I am not leaving without him.” He argued bitterly.

“We’ll come back when we’re better prepared! At least we know they’re close by.” He seemed to finally give in. He called something Neteyam didn’t understand and all of his accomplices began retreating back into the forest where they had come from.

Relief flooded through Neteyam. They were leaving and the both of you were still safe. However, his relief didn’t last for very long.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

He turned to you, a smile spread across his lips until he saw the way you clutched your stomach. Your hands were trembling as they slowly revealed what was happening. Your knife handle was sticking out and blood was dripping from your skin.

There wasn’t a smile on his face anymore. His relief disappeared and was quickly replaced by fear.

“Neteyam..” You sputtered, swaying on your feet. He was quick to catch you before you hit the ground.

“No, no, no, no, Y/n. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. Look at me. Look at me. You’re okay.” He was sputtering, clutching your arm and staring at the way your knife was lodged into your stomach.

“Why am I so warm? Is it warm?” Your entire face was losing color by the second. Neteyam, even though he tried not to show it for your sake, was panicking.

“You’re fine. It’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. Help is coming. They’re coming to help us.” He knew better than to pull the knife out, but you were practically pouring blood everywhere.

“Am I dying? Is this what it feels like to die?” The blood loss was making you go into shock. Neteyam was cradling your head, trying to stay calm for you and himself.

“No, you are not dying, my love. You are going to be okay. You are not going to die. I will not let you die.” If he had his bow and arrow, maybe he would’ve been able to take down those other guys easier. If he had a better weapon, anything other than a knife then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

You were not dying.

Your breathing started becoming rigid. It was broken into heavy pants and you were sputtering again.

“If-if I don’t..If I don’t make it..Can you-will you take care of them for me?” Your siblings. Neteyam visibly shut his eyes for a moment. How would he explain this to Foana? Who would take care of them if you..no you were not dying.

“Do not say that. You are going to take care of them because you are going to live. My dad is coming. Everything is going to be okay.” It was mostly just so Neteyam would believe himself too. Everything was going to be okay.

His ears twitched and perked up when he heard sounds of ikrans coming. His father’s ikran came into view along with his mother’s. They landed and then rushed to where you two were.

“Dad! Someone put her knife into her. She..she is losing so much blood.” Neteyam’s voice broke that time. He couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Shit, shit.” Neteyam watched as his dad gently flipped you to your side. Luckily, there was no exit wound, but the blood kept coming.

“I-I do not feel very good. I-I-“ You were heaving at this point. Your eyes were glazing over and your entire skin had gone from a deep blue to an entirely lighter shade.

“Y/n, you need to stay with me. Please, please stay with me.” Neteyam cupped your face, trying to keep your eye contact with him.

“We need to get her to the village. To Max and Norm and Mo’at.” Neytiri had a look of pure horror on her face seeing you like that.

Your eyes couldn’t stay open much longer. The blood loss was becoming fatal. Neteyam began shaking you when he saw your eyelids drift closed.

“Y/n! Y/n!” He was in too much of a panic to even check if you were breathing or not still. He could not lose you. Not now.

“We need to get her to the village, right now. Neteyam! Are you with me?” His father was practically yelling at this point. However, his eldest son fell into what was his own shock.

He did not and could not move seeing your almost lifeless body in front of him. He didn’t process it as his dad lifted you up to his ikran. His mother had to pull him to his feet, trying to snap him back into attention. Nothing worked, though.

All he could think about was you. You, you, you. You were in love. His future woman. His future mate. You were the sister to his siblings. The sister to your siblings. You were their care taker. Who would..who would take care of them now?

He should’ve told you. He should’ve told you the other night on your night ride. It was so close on the tip of his tongue. Why couldn’t he find the courage to tell you then? What if he never got to tell you ever now?

Your body became so lifeless in his arms. Pale skin, gone eyes, blood nearly everywhere. This couldn’t be the end. There was so much life ahead for the two of you. Your future plans. He couldn’t possibly do it all without you.

His mother somehow managed to get him onto her ikran. She flew quickly through the sky after her husband who clutched your body tightly.

When they landed, you were rushed directly to Max and Norm. Mo’at was brought in to give you a heavy sedation medicine so they could pull the knife out without damaging anything serious. It was near chaos. No one but Mo’at was allowed where they were inside the labs.

Neteyam chewed on his bottom lip. Guilt, fear, anger, sadness, everything at once was eating him up inside. He figured he should be the one to tell your siblings what happened, so he did.

Their faces were enough for him to finally break down right in front of them. It should’ve been me. It should’ve been me. It should’ve been me. The phrase repeated in his head like a broken record.

All five of them sat on the ground of your hut hugging one another close. For a moment he hated your parents for not being here in this moment. They had no idea what was happening to their daughter right now.

Neytiri offered their hut to your siblings without hesitation to stay in.

Hours were ticking by it stated to feel like days to Neteyam. There was no word on the progress or your condition. It was merely a waiting game at this point. The knife was lodged deep and you lost a lot of blood.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

Mo’at finally emerged after what seemed like almost six hours where a large group had gathered outside of the lab doors—Neteyam and his family included. All of them deeply concerned about your well-being.

“The knife has been removed. She is stable, but she is sleeping still and will be for a few days.” A tiny bit of relief washed through Neteyam knowing the operation was at least successful.

—

The days went by and you had finally awoken. Once visitors were allowed, your siblings were the first to check on you, of course. Neteyam hung back, a bit anxious and nervous to see you again.

He felt so guilty for what happened. He could not protect you after saying countless times that he would at any given moment. His failure caused him to hang his head low and avoid looking people’s way when he went out.

Kiri, Tuk, and Lo’ak were the next group of visitors. Neteyam still hung back. Maybe it was fear that was holding him back?

Could he possibly look you in the eye again after seeing you with a knife lodged into you? Not really. His fear made him feel upset in a sense. Why could he not face you? You were his love, yet he could not find himself to step foot into the lab.

A few more days passed and eventually the doctors and Mo’at agreed to move you back into your hut for more comfort. Neteyam avoided the entire village that day, in fear that he would see you.

What was wrong with him? One minute he could not stop seeing you and now he was afraid to even make eye contact with you.

It made him feel even more guilty.

One night, he sat outside by one of the drop-off spots. His head pounded and every single thought he ever had was swirling around like a school of fish.

He didn’t feel another presence until he caught sight of his mother sitting down beside him. She had began recognizing his absent behaviors and his avoidant gazes anytime he was around people. She knew how hard this was on her son.

“Have you seen her at all?” She crafted her words gently. Neteyam shook his head.

“I cannot. It pains me and the guilt is eating me alive.” He grabbed his chest like something was actually messing with him in there.

“Well, she is asking for you. She is confused why you have not seen her yet. You should go see her, Neteyam.”

“I can not. Every time I look at her I remember the horrid images of the knife deep in her stomach as the blood seeped through. It was the worst part of everything. I promised her protection and I can not even do that anymore.” He wanted his mother to understand, but he knew she wound not. Not completely, at least.

“Neteyam, this is not your blame. You did everything you could and no one is blaming you. I promise you, son.” Her arm outstretched to bring comfort to her son. She rubbed his back, trying to get him to understand.

“Then why do I feel so, so guilty like it is my fault?” He pleaded for an answer. His mother tried to come up with as best of an answer as she could.

“When you care for someone as deeply as you do, whatever happens to them begins to feel like it is your fault. It is not your fault, though. You take the blame because you think there is no where else to place it. My son, you did everything you could. No one is upset at you or mad or angry. Y/n is not upset with you. Do not think that.” Neteyam’s head hung low.

“I think it will fix a lot of things if you go see her. You will begin to realize this was none of your doing or fault.” Neytiri urged once more and Neteyam knew he couldn’t keep refusing. He had to be mature. He was almost Olo’eyktan and he couldn’t even face his own injured (almost) mate.

“Okay. I will go see her.” Neytiri smiled, giving her son a nod of encouragement.

The Sully boy stood and turned in the direction of your hut. He started bracing himself—for insults? Anger? Sadness? Frustration?

The closer he got to you, the faster his heart would beat against his chest. From inside, he could hear your siblings talking and at times arguing with one another.

He tapped on the wood before pushing aside the flap that covered the inside. Tsanten and Naria looked his way.

“Neteyam! You’re here!” Foana was at his legs, hugging him much like Tuk did. He smiled down at the little girl.

“Hello, Foana. Tsanten. Naria. Ni`awtu.” He bowed before them. Their looks told him they had never been greeted that way before.

In the corner, Neteyam caught sight of your figure. You were sitting upright carving something when you finally noticed his presence in your home.

“Neteyam, hello. Come in, come in.” You urged him in further. He slowly went to you and your siblings filtered themselves out knowing you two probably needed some space.

“You look so much better. How are you feeling?” He questioned taking in your skin that returned to its usual blue shade. You smiled some.

“I am definitely feeling a lot better. How are you?” You took ahold of his hands. The questioned seemed silly to him considering he wasn’t the one who got stabbed.

“I am doing okay. I am not the one who got stabbed, though.” He stifled a small laugh. You rubbed at his fingers and he was just glad to be able to feel your hands in his again, not the lifeless feeling they once were.

“Well, I have not seen you yet, so I was making sure you were okay.” Neteyam grimaced just a bit. He felt guilty for not visiting you sooner, but he just couldn’t bring himself to face you in the state that you were in.

“Yes, I am okay. I am sorry I did not visit you sooner. I..I just felt guilty about all of this and I was being selfish with myself.” His head hung low, ears dropping. You grabbed his chin though, shaking your head.

“There is nothing to feel guilty about, Neteyam. You did everything you could. Eywa gave me life again because she knew my time was not over yet. This was not your fault.” Your words were reassuring. He forced a small smile.

“Plus, you forget how strong I am. I have thick skin. Literally.” You laughed this time. The joke was corny, but it made both of you smile.

You allowed yourself to pull Neteyam closer and he situated himself so his head laid in your lap. He closed his eyes at the feeling of your fingers raking through his braids. It was a familiar feeling he had grown to miss while you were recovering.

“Hey, Y/n?” You turned your attention to the boy in your lap.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” Neteyam’s heart was pounding, nervous for your reaction. He wasn’t sure if that was an Earth phrase you knew or understood, but he hoped it was.

A tiny smile danced on your lips. You caressed his cheek, leaning down to kiss it.

“I love you.”

The rest of the evening was spent wrapped in each other’s arms.

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missmaywemeetagain · 3 years ago

Text

Pink Scarf - PART 18.2 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

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

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

TW: Sex. SO MUCH ANGST. Medication/drug use/overdose. Dub con (sort of?). References to medical trauma, miscarriage, infertility. Blood. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 16.3k (LOLOLOLOLOL)

A/N: Y'ALL, I'M SO SORRY, it's a monstrosity. I couldn't help it. There was just so much to be said while still in E's POV, so that's how we ended up here, over 16k. But we finally learn Elvis' BIG SECRET and experience the mighty fallout from that in his eyes, so hopefully it's worth it. This is my Thanksgiving gift to all of you, but you may want to pace yourselves. I feel like I had to rip my heart out a little bit to really get in E's headspace. Prepare yourselves emotionally. That's all I will say.

A quick note about the pictures...the first is actually from when he bought Graceland in March 1957 and it just works PERFECTLY for the beginning. I couldn't resist the pics from Red West's wedding in 1961, even though I know the timeline and the people don't match but the VIBES, the VIBES my friends, are oh so Jack and Reader's wedding so I just had to include them. The one for 1960 was taken the night of the Rollerdome. *sob*

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

Speaking of Thanksgiving, I am so FREAKIN' GRATEFUL for every single one of you babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE EXTRAORDINARY which is always evident but especially so when someone tried to steal PS last week and y'all went 'ride or die' for me instantly, without question, getting it taken down in record time. I didn't in a million years expect this kind of support and response for Pink Scarf, and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

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

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

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

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

(Elvis in March 1957, Graceland)

March 1957

Elvis parks in front of your house, his mind whirling with noise. He’s not exactly sure how he ended up here, but as soon as he’d gotten off that train, he knew he needed something that he couldn’t get from any of the guys or even his mama. So, he finds himself unexpectedly here.

Turning off the car, he seeks any sort of relief from the heartache he feels. He’s been holding it all in since the train stop in New Orleans, the one that sent the world crumbling under his feet, destroying the pretty picture he’d had for the future. But all that is gone now and here he sits, hands tapping on the steering wheel with nervous energy.

He nods to himself, finally leaping out of the car, and then he saunters down the walkway to the front door. The chime of the doorbell can be heard through the door, and he listens carefully, grateful to hear light footsteps from beyond.

When you open the door, it’s like he can breathe again for the first time since the train pulled away in New Orleans. You look surprised to see him, those big eyes of yours widening the slightest before you speak.

“Elvis, you’re home?” you ask with a hint of confusion, but overall, you seem pleased at finding him on your doorstep.

“Just got in, baby,” he says, that boyish smile curving up. He gathers you up into a big bear hug and instantly feels better as he breathes in the unique scent of your shampoo and lingering perfume. A scent that feels like home.

“And you came right here?” you ask, brow furrowing when he pulls away. He notices that you look a bit worn around the edges, darker circles rimming your eyes as if you haven’t been sleeping well.

You’re right to be confused. Of course, he hadn’t planned to see you right away. He’d planned to sweep June off her feet in New Orleans, wanting to show her Graceland immediately, the home he’d thought they’d share together for the rest of their lives. But all that had been dashed as soon as she’d blurted out that she was engaged to another man. Engaged. His June.

“I want to show ya something,” he blurts out instead of saying any of this. “It’s a surprise! Will ya come?” Oh, god, you have to come, he thinks. His heart might shatter if you don’t, though he’s not exactly sure why. You’re not his—you and Jack have been dating for nearly a year—so it’s not as though if you don’t come that it really means anything. Yet, still he hopes. He needs this. He needs to share this moment with someone he cares about.

Despite the fatigue in your eyes, you nod quickly, and then as if you can’t leave the house fast enough, you grab your purse and coat and shut the door behind you without a word.

He smiles gratefully, and relieved, he grabs your hand and practically skips to the car. Once he has you tucked in safely, he runs around the front of the Cadillac, jumps in, and peels away. It’s not too far of a drive, and he yammers on about the last few months he’s been away, the words flying out of him. You nod and ask all the right questions, but he notices that you are pensive, quieter than usual.

His verbal diarrhea halts for long enough for his brain to take into account that you don’t seem your usual self, and he asks, “Are you okay?”

You look down at your hands and then out the window, as if contemplating if and how much to share, which makes him a little nervous. Your fingers twist in your lap.

“Honestly? It’s been a hard few weeks, E,” you finally say, still unable to meet his eyes. “My nana passed last Tuesday.”

He’s mortified that he’d just been going on and on about himself and here you were dealing with such a loss. “Oh, darlin’, I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t know. I know how close you two were,” he says remorsefully, reaching his hand over to clasp one of yours.

You shake your head, sniffling back tears. “It’s okay, you’ve been away. There was no way for you to know. And I keep telling myself that she’s in a better place now, but that doesn’t really help all that much. I guess it still doesn’t seem real.”

He nods, because he can’t seem to think of anything to say that will make any of this better for you. “We can do this another time, baby, if you’re not feeling up to it,” he finally gets out.

“No, no. I need something to do instead of moping around the house. I’m worn from being sad and worrying about the rest of it. No, I’m glad you showed up, E. I can’t wait to see your surprise,” you add quickly, trying for a smile.

“The rest of it? What’re you so worried about, baby?” It’s obvious you don’t expect him to pick up on that because he sees the quick look of panic that flashes over your face at the question, so he’s quick to add, “I mean, you don’t hafta talk ‘bout it if ya don’t wanna, but I can tell somethin’ else is weighin’ on ya.”

“You could say that,” you sigh, raising your eyes to the roof and back down again. The twisting fingers are back. “God knows I haven’t been sleeping, and it’s giving me these terrible headaches.” You pinch the bridge of your nose for respite. “I…well, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to tell you, Elvis, because it’s about Jack, and I really don’t want him to think I’m running around telling everyone our business.”

A warning rush rolls over him at this because he suddenly and very desperately wants to know what has happened with Jack, and that is a dangerous game for all kinds of reasons, many of which he’s not ready to admit to himself.

“I swear and cross my heart I won’t say a word, if you wanna tell me,” he says instead, a little too eagerly, so he quickly adds, “If it’ll help ya feel better and all.”

He forces himself to watch the road and not you, but he can practically hear your mind whirring.

“Oh, fine, but not a word out of you to anyone, Elvis Presley, I mean it. I know how bad you are with secrets,” you glare at him.

“I promise, I promise!” he concedes, crossing his heart. “I swear on my mama!”

“Well, in the midst of all this with Nana, I found out that Jack was dating other women a while back while we were going together. Apparently, I thought we were exclusive, but he didn’t, and well…” you trail off bitterly.

Elvis has to bite his tongue and bite it hard because somehow this wasn’t what he expected, and oh, lord, he knows too much for comfort.

Thankfully, you take this as him listening intently, because you continue, “I know I shouldn’t be too mad at him. I suppose it’s an honest mistake, seeing as maybe we didn’t communicate clearly enough about where we stood with each other. But it was so obvious to me, and I don’t understand how it wasn’t obvious to him. It’s not like I was going around with other guys all the time! I know it was months ago, but damn if it doesn’t really sting. Part of me feels like such an idiot, you know? What else don’t I know about him and what he’s doing? It just makes it hard to trust him, even though he was truthful about it when I asked.” He can sense the conflict in you, as your voice fills and shakes with the emotion of your held-back tears.

His heart is beating fast now, and all he is seemingly able to do is nod furiously, as if agreeing vehemently with all you are saying. The problem is that Elvis is complicit in all this and you have no idea. You have no idea that he was the one who pushed the showgirls onto Jack when he came to visit him in Vegas in November. You have no idea that “dating” didn’t have much to do with it at all. And now he feels altogether shitty for being the one to put Jack in that position in the first place. He’d managed to spread his own unfaithfulness and debauchery right on over to Jack, and now you are the one paying for it.

Shit.

Although, knowing Jack, it’s also possible that there was other dating happening, too. Either way, Elvis knows he’s got to tread real careful here and needs to keep his trap shut.

But Elvis can’t stand that hurt look in your eyes when he dares to take his eyes off the road to glance at you. He hates how angry and sad you look, the blue-black circles under your eyes conveying your distress.

And his emotions feel complicated, too complicated for comfort. He suddenly wonders if he didn’t present Jack with those temptations on purpose because there is a very deep and selfish part of him that desperately wants you to kick Jack to the curb for this, and that terrible, selfish part of him wants you to finally see Elvis in the same way he sees you.

Maybe there’s a reason that things didn’t work out with June, that voice pokes at him hopefully.

Stop that shit right now.

All this is playing through his head and leaving him outwardly silent. He realizes he has to say something, anything, because you are waiting for him to do so.

“I-I’m sorry that happened, ‘specially finding out at the same time as all this with your Nana. W-What are you gonna do about Jack?” he says, trying not to gulp.

He watches your eyes narrow and then he quickly looks back at the road. He can feel you shift in your seat.

“I…well, right now, I wanna pummel his brains out, so I told him I need some space to figure out what I want to do. I just—I thought we…” you trail off dismally. “I don’t want to go through this again,” you add quietly.

Elvis knows you are talking about Ted. Stupid Teddy who stepped out and got Judy Cole knocked up and then left you brokenhearted in his wake. It still pisses him off, even though he knows he’s got no right to judge Ted, not now, not after all the foolin’ around he’s done.

But when it comes to you, he can’t help but be protective. It’s in his bones, the way he wants to take care of you. In fact, he wouldn’t mind punching Jack in the face right about now for hurting you like this. And he’s even more pissed at himself for his part in it all.

Elvis just wants you to be happy and to be with a man who deserves you, and deep down, he doesn’t know if that man is Jack, even though he loves Jack like a brother. But the real problem is he’s not sure if he thinks any man will ever be good enough for you.

But his brain is wary to dwell on the meaning of that, wanting to avoid anything else that feels uncomfortable, so instead, he lets the excitement of showing you his new home overshadow any other unwanted feelings he might be experiencing.

“Okay, baby, we’re almost there, so close your eyes,” he says excitedly, changing the subject abruptly, before pulling up the long drive.

“Alright, Elvis, this better be a big surprise with how hyped up you are,” you chuckle, letting the mood turn by doing as you are told.

“The biggest,” he breathes, sliding to a stop in front of the Colonial mansion. “Don’t open your eyes yet! I’ll come around!”

You wait until you hear the car door open and feel his hand take yours. He gently brings you out of the car to standing, an excited energy vibrating through him.

“Okay, darlin’, open!” he drawls dramatically.

You do, blinking out the early Spring sunlight. He watches your face light up as you take in the architecture.

“Oh my god, Elvis, it’s beautiful,” you say in awe. “Is it yours?”

“Yes, baby, it’ll be all mine very soon. And for Mama and Daddy, of course,” he adds hastily, as if you’d thought he’d abandon his parents.

“Of course,” you smile, looking at him with those pretty, though tired, eyes of yours. “Can we go inside?” you ask.

All he can do is nod excitedly. Elvis takes your hand, pulling you up the steps and past the huge white columns on either side. He can’t unlock the door fast enough, the keys rattling and shaking in his hands. Once inside, he pulls you through the house, mouth running a mile a minute about what he wants to do in each room, how he wants it to look.

Finally, you make it to the top level, the last room. “This is gonna be my bedroom,” he rambles on. “I’m gonna get the biggest bed you’ve ever seen in your life, made special.”

You gently pull your hand out of his, and he watches as you take a small pill bottle out of your purse and pop two of the pills before downing them dry. Aspirin, probably, for the headache you were talking about in the car.

“E, stop a minute,” you say. “This is all amazingly wonderful and beautiful, and I am so excited for you, but…well, what exactly am I doing here?” You look at him with curious and concerned eyes.

“I…uh…I…,” he stammers, unsure of what to say or how to say it, as it’s all been spinning inside for hours and hours. He looks away, unable to meet your eyes. He certainly doesn’t want to put any of his stuff onto you, not now, not after what you told him earlier. His hands fall to his sides, and he shakes them, wiggling his fingers like he does to come down after a show. It doesn’t help. There’s just too much emotion rolling through him all the sudden.

You step to him, first putting your hands on his shoulders, then you run them gently down his arms before grabbing his flailing hands, absorbing some of that wild energy. The feeling still manages to send little electric shocks through him, even after all this time. Only then does he finally still and dare to look at you.

“E, what’s wrong? You let me talk earlier, so why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?” you ask, your eyes searching his, open and concerned. He should’ve known you’d see right through him. Maybe that’s why you’re here, because he knew you’d understand, that you’d be able to tell he wasn’t okay when no one else cared to.

It takes a moment for him to gather his words as his emotions get in the way. Emotions he stoically hid from the guys the rest of the way to Memphis. Emotions he pushed down when he saw his mama because he just couldn’t bear to break her heart yet with the news. God, he’s spent so much time recently learning how to hide everything real about himself in order to become the man everyone wants him to be. But here, now, with you, it all begins to overflow.

“I-I-I told June to meet me in New Orleans. I-I w-w-was gonna bring her back here, to show her w-what I-I wanted to buy…for us,” he says, bouncing on his toes, tears welling and clouding his vision. He hates how it’s tearing him in two to say this.

You squeeze his hands, urging him to continue, and for you, he does.

“But when I-I got there, she was acting so strange. There w-wasn’t much time and, uh, she told me she’s engaged to someone else.” He blinks and the tears run over, finally spilling down his cheeks. Saying it out loud suddenly makes it feel all too real. His chest aches with betrayal, with loss.

You look at him with such care, though you do not look shocked at this news.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, E. I know you how much you loved her,” you say, squeezing his hands again gently.

‘Loved.’ As in past tense.

“Did you know?” he asks suddenly, stepping back, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

You take a conscious deep breath. “No, I didn’t. But she did call me a few times wondering where you were, if you were okay. She said she hadn’t heard from you in months…” you say awkwardly, petering off.

“Aw, shit,” he curses, running a hand through his greased hair. A wave of anger rolls through him, burning him from the inside, but as much as he wants to put it on June and her spiteful engagement, he knows the anger is mostly towards himself. He fucked up. He fucked around. And he’d expected June to just sit back and wait for him while he did it. He didn’t even make the time to call her.

And you know what he’s done. He can see it on your face. He looks down, unable to meet your eyes.

You don’t speak. You don’t lay into him or tell him he’s an asshole, although it might be better if you did. God knows he’s already thinking it. You just look at him with sadness and understanding and forgiveness, even though he doesn’t deserve it.

With that ache in his heart, he finally realizes that he couldn’t have loved June the way he said he did and then leave her hanging like that. But he did love her…at least, he had. They’d had such a beautiful summer together and he was sure he wanted to marry her, once his fame was settled. Three years, he’d told her.

Shit, I didn’t even make it six months, he thinks absently.

And then everything changed almost overnight. His fame exploded. There was Hollywood, then Vegas. And the girls, good god, there were so many beautiful girls who wanted him, needed him, who threw themselves at him. He’d been weak. He hated being alone. He couldn’t help it. It was just sex, he’d told himself, just a way to blow off steam as his world became smaller and smaller and nearly suffocated him. A thousand excuses run through his head, but in the end, it was his choice not to pick up the phone. It was his choice to screw around, to live this life.

It’s no wonder that June moved on, he thinks. I’m a first-rate asshole.

“Y/n, I messed it all up,” Elvis finally chokes out. The sob fully breaks the dam holding him together, the pressures of his fame and the realization hitting him like a truck: he is never going to be able to have that normal life with a wife and kids he’d once dreamed of. His knees buckle under the weight of all of it—his decisions, both good and bad, the fame he doesn’t know what to do with, the unexpected consequences of this privileged but isolating life he’s chosen.

He sinks to his knees, defeated, on the carpet of his future bedroom, the one he’ll probably never share with someone who loves him for who he truly is. Because he isn’t just Elvis Aron Presley anymore—he is “Elvis Presley,” the celebrity, the commodity, the fantasy.

While he relishes in the luxuries of it all, in being able to provide the life his family deserves, a small part of him cannot help but feel like he’s made a deal with the devil. That this talent he has been blessed with will also be the thing that damns him. He is overcome by the feeling that he’ll never know ever again if he is loved for who he really is, or if it is his fame and his image they love. And there is something about that that crushes his soul.

But he can’t say all this to you because it sounds dramatic and indulgent, and he knows there are very few people in this world who’d actually understand. This is his cross to bear.

And yet you still comfort him. You are still here. “Oh, hon, I know. It’s okay, I know,” you say, kneeling down with him.

In the midst of all he’s achieved and gained these past few years, June is the representation of all that he stands to lose, all that he’s already lost. “She was my last chance, y/n. I’m never gonna be able to trust that a woman loves me for me and not for my fame after this. And I screwed it all up,” he says quietly, tears running freely. “I just feel so fucking alone.”

“Oh, that’s not true, Elvis, it’s not,” you say, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’ll find her, I know you will. And you have so many people who love you for just being you, not for the fancy cars or the mansion or the fame. You’ve got your family, you’ve got Jack and your true friends. And you’ve got me.”

The way you say it, so softly, yet so matter-of-fact hits him hard, so hard that his heart stops beating for a moment. If he wasn’t already kneeling, the honest way your tired yet beautiful eyes search his face might knock him right off his feet.

It’s you, it’s you, it’s always been you, he thinks suddenly. This is the feeling he was avoiding in the car. The feeling he’s been avoiding since he watched Jack kiss your cheek in the diner a year ago.

It takes his breath away. You take his breath away, you always have. He’s been enamored with you since you plowed into him all those years ago in the hallway at Humes High.

Suddenly, June is all but forgotten because you reach up, cupping his face in your cold little hands and wipe a tear off his cheek. He cannot help the way his eyelids flutter closed at the sensation of the pad of your thumb dragging softly across his face. His breathing, rapid from his cries is now labored for another reason entirely.

Opening his eyes slowly, he shouldn’t be shocked to see tears in yours, your grief and sorrow, not only for yourself, but for him, too, welling there, as if you are connected to him. In fact, Elvis feels like his brain is short-circuiting because you are too damn close and the tension in the room is suddenly so thick, he feels like he might suffocate.

Every cell in his body feels on fire as you lean in closer and closer until your lips press against his forehead. You’ve never kissed him, not once in all these years, and this alone sends heat rushing through his young body. Then when you kiss his nose, and then one tear-stained cheek, he holds his breath, feeling like he might die from this chaste sensation.

Warning bells explode in his brain because suddenly he wants you more than anything in this world, always has. And now you are so close. This is Jack’s girl, he thinks, and she’s my dear friend. Don’t be an idiot.

But when you lean in to kiss his other cheek, you place your lips alarmingly close to his, his tears wet underneath your soft lips, and his body is on high alert as only a twenty-two-year-old’s could be. His heart flutters as you pull back just enough to look deeply into his eyes, tears shining in your own, and then you lean in once more.

This can’t be happening. This should not be happening, his mind screams, but then your lips are grazing his and all rational thought ceases to exist.

You taste so sweet.

Heat blooms through the ache in his chest, and in his disbelief, he freezes. Part of him wants to devour you whole, but he is terrified that if he moves, he might spook you and he cannot bear that.

His confusion is overridden when your hands, shaking but demanding, pull him closer. Your lips are soft and sure, and he cannot help but be swept away by them. He’s kissed so many girls, too many to count, all over the country, but not one has ever made him feel like this, like his heart is going to leap out of his damn chest.

But this is a betrayal of a monumental kind, for both of you. While he is no stranger to betrayal, he does not want this for you. As much as he wants you with every fiber of his being, he does not want to be the source of your regret or heartache. He’s already done enough in that regard already, though you don’t know it. Mustering up every ounce of his self-control, Elvis pulls out of your kiss.

“Y/n, baby, you don’t want this. I’m no good for you this way,” Elvis says in a hushed tone, his forehead resting against yours. “I-I can’t have you regretting me, I-I-I couldn’t bear it.”

You lean back the slightest bit, and he thinks you might be listening, reconsidering, making him feel mostly dismay but also a little relief. What he does not expect is for you to press your little pointer finger up against his lips, hushing him, as you stare into his eyes. It’s as though your soul is as weary and needy as his and it feels as though you see him, truly see him, which is a new feeling for him. This sends a welcoming shiver down his spine, and he knows that despite every scrap of logic and propriety he is trying to lean on, with you he is powerless.

When your finger drags down his lips, catching on the bottom one, it sends a bolt of pleasure straight to his groin. Yet still he resists (even though he wants more than anything to see where this is going), thinking you might realize your mistake, and this will all be over in an embarrassed, yet still salvageable, flash.

Instead, you very deliberately scoot closer, your knees bumping his on the carpet. You lean in again, your lips grazing his again with a yearning he cannot help but return in kind. It’s barely a kiss, but the intent is there and when you pull up, effectively opening your mouth to him, the way he can feel your warm breath mingling with his own has him struggling to control himself.

You are testing him, testing the waters, hesitant but somehow insistent at the same time. His long lashes flutter closed when your fingers brush his jaw then rake into his perfectly styled hair. But it’s when the tip of your tongue touches his, sending a hot shockwave through him, that he can stand it no longer and closes the gap between your mouths with a longing sigh.

Pressing his pliant lips to your yielding ones, he rolls his tongue softly but firmly against yours, earning him a quiet moan from you. This is like fuel on the fire, finally spurring him into action, and his hands fly to the back of your head, pulling you closer.

If there is one thing besides music that Elvis excels at and loves to do, it’s kissing. He plays with it the same way he plays a crowd, listening to you and adjusting his performance as necessary. The buzzy way it makes him feel, like every nerve is magnetic, is one of the only things in this world that is anything like how it feels for him to perform for an audience. He loves the way it makes him feel.

But kissing you is unlike anything Elvis has experienced before. It’s as though you are tuned to the exact same frequency, finding his rhythm immediately, adapting easily. The usual fumbling of people getting acquainted in this way does not seem to apply to the two of you, the ebb and flow so natural it’s as though you had done this with each other many times before.

But the passion of it stokes a fire that has been denied a long time. Intense heat crashes over him, sending tendrils of warmth through his limbs and deep into his belly. He drinks you in as deep as he can without being desperate, and oh how close he is to being desperate for you. His grief over June melts away the more he tastes you, and he wonders how he ever lived before having the taste of your lips on his.

It's all very dramatic and romantic, which he is both at heart. From just a few kisses, he suddenly knows that if he could kiss you and only you for the rest of his life, he would be a happy man indeed. This surprises him.

But what truly shocks him is when you lean so far into him that it pushes him over, his knees screaming a little, and he falls back into the wall with a thump. He scrambles backwards, maneuvering his long legs into a more comfortable seated position while you don’t even miss a beat or attempt to come up for air. And when you crawl into his lap, hoisting the flowing fabric of your dress up just enough so your warm, bare thighs are straddling his, his heart actually flies right out of his goddamned chest.

Speaking of which, you are currently running your hands down his, pulling his silky shirt up enough to dance your fingertips over his stomach. His breath hitches then hisses at that, his arms involuntarily encompassing you, large hands splaying across your back to draw you ever nearer.

And you go willingly, inching up his lap until you are straddling his hips. When you grind down into his lap, he thinks he might’ve died and gone to heaven, his blue eyes rolling back into his head with a low moan.

He'll admit he’s dreamed of this, fantasized about this, but nothing could truly prepare him for the reality of the way you are making him feel. A trickle of attraction that began six years ago is now a roaring river, and is so, so much more than anything he’s felt before with anyone else.

He doesn’t understand it. He loves women. He always falls in love too fast, enjoying the rapid descent into the madness of it all. There have only been a few that he feels were true, though every girl he’s with, he loves in his own way.

But you are not like any of them, not at all. With you, it has been slow, so gradual sometimes that he didn’t even realize it. A teenage crush turned into friendship, and within that has blossomed a love that he didn’t know he was capable of. It is not until this very instant that he realizes it truly for what it has become. He doesn’t just care for you. He loves you.

He is in love with you.

Fuck.

Realizing this as your hips begin to rock steadily over his crotch is not the best timing. He’s as hard as a rock, fighting both the swell of his physical need for you while wrestling with the emotional needs he’s quickly realizing at the same time.

If he didn’t love you, he might not care if this is just a quick fuck between friends, but he does care. And he’s worried about where this is coming from, likely your overall grief and your anger at Jack. No, he doesn’t like the messiness of that at all.

But another grind of your pelvis into his, coupled with your tongue down his throat has the physical quickly taking over any and all rational thought. He wants you, more than he’s ever wanted anyone. And he desperately wants to give you what you need, which based on the mewls escaping your lips, is a physical release, a connection.

God, he can feel the wet heat of your cunt now through your panties and his pants as you slide over his length, back and forth, again and again. He clings to you as your hands wind through his hair, burying his head in your neck, his lips taking in as much of your skin as he can. He revels in the scent of you, your perfume and your irresistible musk that is permeating the room. He is positively dizzy with it.

You are frantic in his lap now, chasing something he’s not entirely sure you’ve ever had. He knows about Ted, but he highly doubts Ted knew what to do with you. And with Jack, well, he’s not sure how far the two of you have gone, but he can only guess based on Jack’s recent actions and your desperation for no one to know that Ted had popped your cherry that you’ve been trying to be good and pure and wait.

But as you reach for his belt, pawing at him, for the first time in this whole event, he gets the distinct impression that you’re not sure what to do next, only that you are needy for something. And goddamn him, he is willing to give you what you need, but only if you really understand what it is you’re asking for.

“Wait, baby, just…wait,” Elvis pants, stilling your hips with one hand while grabbing the hand at his belt with the other. You whimper a little at the interruption, rolling your hips for emphasis, but despite the groan he can’t help, he’s having none of that.

“Baby, I need to know that you really want this,” he says, brushing your hair off your deliciously pink cheeks, your lips swollen from his kisses. He looks into your eyes, almost getting lost in them and forgetting what he set out to do. “You’re absolutely sure?”

“Yes,” you whisper, and then add, “Elvis, please,” in a begging tone that sets him completely aflame.

“Oh, damn, okay, baby, okay,” he breathes, barely able to contain himself with that. He’s only human, after all. He races to help you with his pants, pulling them over his hips and down his legs in record time, his erection springing free, precum already glistening the tip. You lift up on your knees, you move your panties aside, and touching the silky soft skin of his cock, you help him line up with your entrance. He can’t help but gasp at the feeling of your cool little fingers circling his shaft, losing it a little more when he feels how incredibly soaked you already are.

He can’t believe this is happening. It shouldn’t be happening. But all logic is gone from him, replaced by the sweetness of your mouth and the wetness of your pussy and his desperate need for whatever love you have to give him.

He watches as you bite your lip in concentration, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you try to take him in. You are incredibly tight around the sensitive tip of his cock, and he moans a little at the constriction. That’s when he knows for sure that no one else has touched you like this for a long time. You aren’t ready for him, not yet.

Reaching under your skirt, he deftly finds the delicate little bundle of nerves there and begins to work it ever so gently. He shifts his hips down, his cock regretfully released from your hold on it. Sliding his fingers through your folds (oh, god), he gently slips one finger into your tight heat, then two, allowing you to adjust around him before pumping them in and out. Your eyes go wide and you gasp with the intrusion, but then they flutter closed with a sigh, and then another, and another before your hips begin to rock again.

He watches you in your ecstasy, taking in every delectable reaction he can and committing it to memory. The way your brow scrunches and your mouth falls open into a little O. The feel of your thighs clenching around his hand as he massages and fingers your dripping pussy. Those alluring little breathy moans escaping your lips. Every part of you has him completely mesmerized and he knows it. He knows his mouth is agape and he is moaning softly right along with you. He is so aroused just by watching you, he feels like he could come without you even touching him.

“E, I need more…I need you,” you breathe with your eyes closed and brow concentrated, and oh sweet lord, those might be the best words in the English language with the way they come out of your mouth.

He is utterly unable to deny you this. He can’t even speak, he just pulls his fingers out of you, lifts your hips, and maneuvers his cock back to the place it wants to be most. And you are more ready for him now, your tightness yielding much more easily around the sensitive tip of him.

It’s in that moment, as you sink down ever-so-slowly onto him and he is enveloped by your wet heat, that Elvis realizes he is utterly ruined for any other woman, ever. They cannot and will not ever hold a candle to you. He should’ve known before. He should’ve stopped this while he still could. But as you finally settle in his lap, taking him in completely, your fingers relaxing and your eyes bright and glassy, he knows he is well and truly fucked in every way.

He kisses you deeply again and again, memorizing your mouth, as you begin to raise and lower yourself on his cock. You feel so good, so completely perfect, it’s as if you were made just for him. He is drunk on you, hands wandering your body, finding what makes you keen, and he’s unable to get enough of you.

But you are so needy and ready that unfortunately it doesn’t take very long of you riding him and him playing with your clit for you to begin falling apart at the seams. Based on your surprised gasps, he’s not sure you’ve ever come before, so he does his best to help you get there while holding on to his own release for dear life. You begin to shudder around him, clenching his length, and with a strangled moan you hit your peak. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, the way you are coming undone on top of him, around him, your eyelashes fluttering closed and then popping open, all wild-eyed and rosy cheeked as the hushed sound of his name falls out of your perfect mouth.

He's so fucking enraptured that his orgasm hits harder and faster than expected, chasing yours almost immediately, not giving him time to pull out like he should have. But he can’t bring himself to care because it’s all you. All he’s ever wanted or needed—it’s you.

Oh, sweet Christ, I love you, I love you, I love you, he chants in his mind as he follows you over the edge.

He clings to you, head pressed into your breasts as he pulses hard into your warmth with a grunt, then stays there as he comes down from the high. And then you are both gasping in the silence, and there is an air of disbelief that fills the room that the two of you just did that, together.

This is making love, he realizes suddenly. It must be, considering the incredibly overwhelming feelings he has for you that are pouring through him in unreasonable amounts. He never wants to let you go, not ever.

He pulls back enough to kiss you tenderly, lingering a little too long. There is a sinking, nearly unbearable feeling that this may never happen again, and it threatens to break him, so he pushes it as far away as it will go.

You press your forehead to his, silent, you still enveloping him as he eventually begins to soften inside you. Neither of you rushes to move. He cannot read what you are thinking and that makes him nervous.

“Are you okay?” he finally whispers, his thumb grazing your cheek.

You nod but say nothing.

“Okay, baby.”

You both sit there a while, simmering in what you have done, and he wishes you would say something, say anything at all to let him know what is going on in that head of yours. But you are quiet, unreadable.

Finally, you remove yourself from his lap and stumble your way into the ensuite bathroom to clean up.

Elvis runs a hand down his face, wiping away the mixture of salty tears and sweat that has collected there. He uses his handkerchief to wipe himself off and then puts himself back together. Blissed out in his refraction, he is so full of love for you that he almost can’t stand it. He thought he’d known love before, and perhaps he did, but this realization of love for you is so big that he doesn’t know what to do with it. God, he feels like with you by his side, he could conquer the damn world.

But you’re not his girl.

Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit.

His head falls back onto the wall with a thump.

Somehow, he’s both on top of the world and completely buried by it at the same time. You interrupt his thoughts, coming back in quietly and falling, exhausted, into his arms. He takes off his coat and puts it on top of you both. He can’t help but pull you closer, up into his lap, so your head rests against his chest. This is where you are supposed to be, he can’t help but think.

He knows the two of you need to talk about this. While he has been having his epiphany, he has absolutely no idea what you are thinking. He has no clue if you feel anything even close to what he feels for you. It is possible that all of this was just some sort of revenge on Jack, and that breaks his heart a little. And even if you did do it for that reason, you chose him. You felt safe enough with him to choose him.

But something deep inside him tells him it isn’t just that, not with the way you kissed him, not with the way he felt like his damn soul was connecting with yours. That deep connection he’s always felt to you, it can’t possibly be one-way.

But what if it is? a worried little voice creeps in.

He wants to ask you, but he looks down and sees you passed out on his chest. Fatigue begins to hit him, as he hasn’t slept in over a day.

It’s not long before he, too, falls into an exhausted slumber.

He’s not sure how long you sleep, but when he wakes, the sun has moved and the room is nearly dark. Disoriented, it takes a moment for him to realize that it’s you in his arms, and when he remembers why, his cheeks flame with heat.

Oh. Oh.

Drowsy, he rubs his eyes with one hand, trying to wake up. As the memories of your lovemaking resurface, his heart beats faster, and he knows the moment you wake you will both have to face what you’ve done. You’ll have to decide what comes next. And more than anything, the hopeful little voice inside him realizes that he wants to share this all with you—that’s why it is you he brought to Graceland today, and why it was so important to him that you like it.

“Y/n, honey, wake up,” he says quietly, not wanting to shock you awake, but you don’t even stir. He shifts under you, hoping that might get you moving, but you just lie there.

“Hey, baby, it’s time to wake up,” he says at full voice now, but you remain still, too still, and silent.

His heart starts to pound. Something isn’t right.

“Y/n! Honey, I need you to wake up!” He is getting frantic now, his hand gently tapping your face, which feels too cold. But still, you do not wake.

“Fuck. Fuck! Y/n, wake up!” He shakes you. Panic and confusion roll over him as he tries to figure out why you are knocked out. His sleep-addled brain runs through what happened before you both fell asleep, before you made love.

Her headache, he thinks. She took pills for her headache.

He had thought they were aspirin, but as he frantically rummages through her purse, pulling out the little prescription bottle, he reads “Percodan, one tablet every 6 hours for pain and sleep relief” on the label.

Elvis swears you took two tablets, not one, way too much for a girl your size. You hadn’t read the bottle.

Shit.

Having been in Hollywood, he knows that this happens. People overdose from taking these narcotics, usually to get high, but he knows that you did it on accident. Based on how full the bottle is, he’s guessing that you maybe hadn’t even taken the meds before today.

Regardless, he’s not taking any chances with you. There’s no phone hooked up at the house, so with his adrenaline now working overtime, he lifts your unconscious form and quickly carries you to the car. He peals out, driving to Baptist Memorial Hospital as fast as he possibly can.

The those few hours are some of the most terrifying of his life.

He bites every nail down to the quick in that waiting room, pacing there as your family sits, equally worried. He can’t help but feel that they are judging him for letting this happen, even though it was an accident.

He can’t bring himself to call Jack.

Guilt eats away at him, even though he knows he had no idea about the pills, but if he hadn’t fallen asleep, maybe he would’ve realized sooner that something was wrong. Part of him feels like this is punishment for his sins, for what he let happen in the house. He prays and prays to God, harder than he’s ever prayed before.

Please, God, I love her. I can’t lose her. Do what you want to me, just let her be okay.

His prayers work.

You wake up. The doctors say you are going to make a full recovery. His heart nearly explodes with relief.

He offers to stay while your family goes home to get some rest. It is past visiting hours, but being Memphis’ own superstar, the nurses take pity on him and let him stay, as long as he doesn’t keep you awake.

When you finally stir, it’s the middle of the night.

“E—Elvis?” you croak. “What happened? Where am I?”

He sits up straight and leans forward to take your cold little hand in his. “Y/n! Oh, baby, you took too many of your headache pills and I couldn’t wake you up. You scared the hell outta me. You’re in the hospital, but you’re gonna be okay,” he whispers, squeezing your hand.

“Wake me up? Why—why was I asleep?” your brow furrows in confusion.

His heart drops into his stomach, dread like ice in his veins. He doesn’t want to ask, but he knows he must:

“What’s the last thing you remember, honey?”

Obviously still groggy, you close your eyes for a moment to think. “Um, I remember you picked me up and took me to…to your new house,” you say, then your eyes pop open, “You were showing me your beautiful new house, and then my headache got really bad, so I took some of my pills, and then…” You stop, looking at him blankly. “And after that, I don’t remember. You said I fell asleep?”

Oh, God, no. No, no, no. He feels like he’s going to vomit.

The force of his dread hits him like a tsunami as he runs through what happened in his head again. You took the pills first and then he told you about June and then you kissed him.

But you don’t remember. You don’t remember because you were accidentally fucking high.

“Elvis, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” you say.

“Sorry, baby, I-I-I was just really worried about you, is all. I-I guess it’s all kinda hittin’ me at o-once, now that you’re o-o-okay,” he says, unable to keep his voice from shaking, unable to keep from stuttering through the half-truth.

“Please, go get some rest, E. I’ll be fine. I’m so tired, I feel like I could sleep for days…” you say, drowsily, eyes fluttering closed.

“Okay, okay, baby, I will…Get some rest,” he says, kissing you on the top of your head as you drift back into slumber.

In a panicked daze, he manages to make it down the hallway and to the men’s room before his stomach rolls and he is violently sick into the toilet.

Oh, sweet Lord, he took advantage of you. You were drugged and didn’t know what you were doing, and he had sex with you.

He vomits again, tears running down his face.

I didn’t know, I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have ever let it happen if I’d known! I would never hurt her! the reasonable part of his brain cries out.

Shame eats at him from deep inside, cutting him. He deserves it.

How could he do this? How could he let this happen?

I should’ve known. I should’ve known the moment she kissed me that she wasn’t in her right mind.

But he didn’t, and what the hell does that say about him? He’s fucking selfish and he took something from you that you weren’t in your right mind to give.

He dry heaves, wanting desperately to expel his regret but knowing that he never will, not until the day he dies.

And what’s even worse is that he is still left with the fact that he is desperately in love with you. You don’t remember what, up until a few minutes ago, was one of the most amazing moments of his young life. You can’t share that with him. And that makes him feel even more selfish because the last thing he should be thinking of is his own damn feelings.

Sitting there on the cold floor, he tries to convince himself it’s for the best. It’s much less complicated for you this way. For you, there was no betrayal. For you, making love with him can never be a mistake you once made in a moment of anger and desperation. For you, there is only the love of friendship between you two.

Yes, it’s better this way, he thinks. He can carry the burden for both of you. He deserves to.

Because he knows he cannot give you what you need. He cannot be there for you, day in and day out, holding you tight and keeping you safe. Especially not now. Not after what he’s done.

He has to lock this away. You can never know, not ever. He must protect you from this and from his guilt. He knows you wouldn’t be able to look at him if you knew.

Oh, God. Please forgive me.

He can’t stop crying. He has to stop crying because he has to go out there and he has to look fine. He has to be fine, for your sake. You’re alive and going to be okay, and it’s that which he latches onto as a mantra in order to slide into the persona that has made his name.

He manages to make it to the car without losing it again, as the dawn starts to break on another day. He can’t bring himself to go home; he can’t look his mother in the eye right now. So, he drives aimlessly, for hours, his sins eating away at him until he finds himself at the church.

He waits for Reverend Hamill in a pew, his thoughts dark and churning. This is just the straw that broke him, for he knows that since his fame began two years ago, he has fallen so very far. He has been self-centered and vain. He has fornicated and broken hearts and caused pain to those he claimed to love, all in the name of this new life of his. And he’s pushed his friends to do the same. His stupid, selfish actions have had a ripple effect that has completely ruined lives.

Not only had he driven June away and into the arms of another man, he’d played with your life and Jack’s as well. If he hadn’t pushed Jack to cheat, you would never have needed those pills in the first place. You almost died because he didn’t want to be alone in his debauchery, and he knows that some sick part of him pushed Jack to it because he wanted to sabotage your relationship.

Then he realizes that, on top of all that, he did another incredibly selfish and stupid thing. He came inside you, which means that you could be pregnant. And that would ruin you completely, and you wouldn’t even know why, you wouldn’t understand. He would do the right thing, of course, and maybe, someday, you would learn to forgive him, but it would ruin you all in the process.

Oh, Lord. Oh, Jesus.

He thinks he might vomit again.

When the Reverend emerges, he looks surprised to find Elvis sitting there.

“Pastor, I am the most miserable man you’ve ever seen. I am doing the things you taught me not to, and I’m not doing the things you said I should,” he sobs, “Please, please pray for me.”

“Oh, son…come in,” Reverend Hamill says.

Deflated, consumed, and heavy with his guilt and the repercussions of his actions, he follows the pastor into his office. He can’t bring himself to admit what he’s done, to admit how horrible he is. He just cannot get the words out. Instead, he weeps and prays, over and over, the Reverend praying with him.

All he can whimper out is, “Please, please forgive me for my sins. Please.” He’s not sure if he’s asking the minister or God or both. He only knows he cannot live with himself for hurting you, even if you don’t know it.

After over an hour of this, by the grace of God, he finally calms some. His entire body and soul aches.

But he knows what he has to do now. He understands the deal he has made.

It doesn’t matter what he wants or needs. You being okay is all that matters. He has to make sure you’re taken care of. He has to make sure that you are happy.

In the days and weeks and months that follow, Elvis pretends he is having the time of his life, becoming every bit the budding superstar that the country insists that he is now. Sometimes, he even believes it; sometimes, he even forgets. Though every time he sees you, his heart breaks a little more, his love for you permeating him to the core.

But he knows he can’t have you. He knows he doesn’t deserve you.

Instead, he plants seeds in Jack’s ear. “You love her, don’t ya, Jacky Boy? When are ya gonna make an honest woman of her?” He pushes Jack to fully commit to you. He even goes with Jack to buy the ring, though he stops himself from paying for it. Jack has his pride, after all.

Instead, he throws himself into work, grateful for the grueling cycle of touring and recording and appearances and acting. He throws himself into fixing up Graceland for his family, building a life of extravagance that he never could’ve dreamed of.

And, God help him, he starts seeing other girls. He leans into the image of the playboy they all want him to be. He dates and he fucks, thinking that maybe, just maybe, one of these girls will make him forget the perfect way you fit into him, forget the way your face looked when you came undone around him. That maybe one of them will come close to the wonder that is you. That they will help him forget his past sins by cutting new ones. He cannot seem to help but do the sinful things he swore he wouldn’t do, lest he drown in his sorrows, but the girls help keep him from the one thing that is off limits: You.

When Jack finally pops the question in the summer, and you accept immediately, he can barely keep himself together. He convinces himself this is the right thing, that he is happy for the both of you as he stares into the night sky knowing deep in his soul that it should be him. He reminds himself that this is the deal, this is what he wanted, to see you happy and taken care of.

And he will damn himself for your salvation every time.

December 28th, 1957, Graceland

Oh, God, what have I done?

The moment you appear down the aisle, looking ever the most beautiful, blushing bride, every part of him aches with love for you. He’d thought that by giving you the life you dreamed of, the life you needed, that it would be enough to let you go. But as Elvis stands by Jack’s side at the altar, he realizes that no matter what has happened, no matter what he has done, he is always going to love you and it’s never not going to hurt, especially not after this.

Not after the quick look you shoot him as you step up to meet Jack, your pretty, wide eyes full of excitement and emotion. Not after seeing you all in white and wishing to God that it was him marrying you right now. Not after he keeps his peace after the minister asks if there’s a reason these two should not be married.

He somehow manages to keep himself from openly weeping during the ceremony by biting the inside of his cheek repeatedly but still finds himself caught in your radiance more than once and must force himself to look away. During the wedding pictures, he cannot help but maneuver himself close to you to press a lingering kiss to your cheek, to be memorialized for all time on film. The press of his soft lips into your warm cheek sends that tell-tale shiver through him, one that drives in the fact that he still loves you. He gives himself this tiny thing, and no one questions it because they all know you are close friends, and a congratulatory cheek kiss on your wedding day is not strange.

Discretely, he makes sure to let the photographer know he wants copies of the pictures, with the excuse that he is paying for them and wants to make sure they are perfect. This, too, is not questioned, as if it is the most normal thing in the world.

To torture himself even more, he offers Graceland up for the reception. These are his two best friends, after all, now cleaved together in holy matrimony for the rest of their lives. No expense should be spared because they deserve all the happiness in the world.

And they do, he reminds himself throughout the day. They do deserve all the happiness in the world.

At least if you are with Jack, he thinks, he still has you in his life. He can still see those beautiful, wide eyes whenever he wants without question or suspicion.

He clings to this.

Even so, he feels as though he is being sucked into a riptide. It seems fated that his life is going in a much different direction than the newlyweds. The draft notice he received a week ago confirms this, weighing heavy on his heart and feeing like a nail in the coffin of his hopes and dreams.

God is testing him, he thinks. It is all a very clear and stark reminder that where he goes, you cannot follow. He cannot help but feel that God is punishing him for his sins by taking him away from the fame he has just settled into to, taking him from the people he loves and the things he loves to do. He wants to lament that it isn’t fair, but part of him knows that he deserves this, too, for what he’s done and for what he’s done to you.

And perhaps God works in mysterious ways, as while he is loathe to leave his parents and his career and his fans, he cannot help the small part of him that is relieved he doesn’t have to watch you and Jack in your newlywedded bliss for the next two years. It’s the only upshot to this entire disaster.

But he won’t let his sorrow overshadow your big day. With a smile plastered on his face, he gives a charming and loving speech of how wonderful it is to see his two best friends find such happiness with each other. He only stutters once or twice, which comes across as endearing rather than damning. But the thing is, even though he is miserable, he is still happy for you two. He wants more than anything for you to have everything you’ve ever wanted and more, and if that is with Jack, then so be it.

The only time he truly falters is during the dance.

Your little sister (who at 18 is not so little anymore), Rosie, as the Maid of Honor, dances with Jack, while he, the Best Man, dances with you. The moment he touches you, sparks fly through him and down his spine, and he cannot help but pull you in a little too close, even though everyone is looking. His large hand wraps around your smaller one and the other clings to your waist.

The thing is, you do not react to this at all, not outwardly, anyway. You let him hold you and press his cheek against your temple. You let him breathe in your scent and lean into you, as if memorizing everything about you. You let his hands contract, pulling you in closer. You let him lead because it’s like somehow you know, in your soul, that he needs this, even if you’re not exactly sure why.

And for that he is grateful. He is grateful as he takes in every bit of you, committing you to memory, knowing that soon that is all he will have of you. All you will be is a memory, imprinted on his heart, for the rest of time.

When the song comes to an end, he leans back slowly, his eyes searching your face for any recognition, any understanding of his plight, any feelings of your own that might linger in your subconscious. You stare back at him openly for a moment, and for a second he thinks he sees a glimmer of something in your eyes, but then Jack is pulling you away and the moment is gone.

As the party continues into the night, he feels like he is suffocating and escapes upstairs to his room. And as people know not to enter his bedroom without express permission, he feels safe to let out the shaking sob he’s been holding back for hours.

He’s not sure how long he cries before a tap at the door startles him into motion, frantically wiping at his face.

“Bewbie, sweet boy, can I come in? It’s just me,” his mama’s voice echoes through the door.

“Yeah, Mama, come in,” he croaks out, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. While he is relieved that it’s her and not one of the guys, or God forbid, you, he still doesn’t know how he’s going to explain the state he’s in.

His mama comes in quietly, shutting the door quickly behind her. She looks him over and in one fell swoop seems to understand, even though he’s said nothing, even though he’s spent months perfecting his nonchalantness for the world, what is going on.

But a mother knows.

His mama sits next to him on the edge of the bed, putting her arm comfortingly around his broad shoulders. “Oh, my wittle baby, it’s her, isn’t it? Our beautiful y/n. You love her,” she says, less of a question and more stating a fact.

That does him in, the way his secret is exposed so easily by his mama. It terrifies him that she knows him so well, and terrifies him that if she knows this, what else does she know? There’s no point in denying anything, so he curls into her like a child and lets go of it all, the tears streaming once again down his cheeks as his body shakes with quiet sobs.

His mama has always loved you, taking quickly to your genial ways and how you always made time to spend with her. Maybe she suspected something from the start, he doesn’t know, but she doesn’t judge or scold him now.

“H-hurts so bad, Satnin,” he hiccups out. And it does, now that he’s letting it. It feels like his heart is being ripped from his chest.

“I know, baby, I know,” she coos, rubbing his back. He can sense all the questions she wants to ask but doesn’t.

“I-I-I couldn’t…I-I ain’t w-w-what she needs or wants, Mama,” he stutters out. It’s as close as he’s willing to get to telling her the truth.

“It takes a brave man to let the girl he loves marry another, when he knows that’s what she wants, though I can’t say I wish it didn’t work out the other way,” his mama tuts.

“Y-you knew?”

“Course I knew, Bewbie. A mother always knows. To be fair, I been watchin’ the way ya look at that girl for the past few years and it didn’t take much t’put it all together, baby,” she says. “But the question is, does she know?”

He stills and stays silent for a moment, before answering truthfully, “I don’t know, Mama. I don’t think so.”

“Hmm,” she tuts, “I’m gonna trust you had good reason for lettin’ that wonderful girl go without tellin’ her how ya feel?”

His heart constricts, causing him to doubt his choices, but he can’t explain how he nearly killed you with his terrible decisions. He certainly can’t tell his mama that he made love to you when you weren’t yourself, no matter that it was you came on to him. And he knows his mama would balk if he told her how much he doesn’t deserve your love because of his sins.

“It’s better this way, Mama,” he says quietly, sitting up and staring at his hands. “And she’s happy, both she and Jack.”

His mama nods, resigned. “Alright, my sweet baby, puttin’ your friends’ happiness before your own…I know ya made the choice ya thought was best,” she says, wiping his face and pinching his cheeks, “but ya get yourself cleaned up now ‘n go be at least a ‘lil happy for your friends, okay?” She leaves the obvious unsaid—that he’s leaving to film in a few days and straight from there, it’ll be into the Army, so this will be one of the last times he can spend with them.

He nods. “O-okay, Satnin.”

And with that, he does as he’s told.

And then, in a blink of an eye, she’s gone. His mama is gone and his world fully collapses and it’s all his fault.

You are the only one who saves him from being completely swallowed in the blackness of his despair, and he’s not in his right mind to think or care how that looks. All he knows is you’re there when he needs you the most. You’re there to get him through the absolute worst of it before they send him a world away, and then, he loses you, too.

He loses everything that means anything to him—his mama, you, his career—and he wonders how long God will continue to punish him for his misdeeds, until he can’t bring himself to care much anymore about anything at all.

Germany feels like a cold fog that clouds his brain, even when he brings his Daddy and Dodger and Red over to live with him off base. In his haze, he writes Anita promises he wishes he could keep but deep down knows he won’t. Then, he turns around and does all the things he shouldn’t do because he can and what does it even matter if it’s all lost anyway? He takes the pills they give him to keep him awake in the field, and those make him feel pretty good, for a time anyway, and then he starts taking other pills they give him to bring him down after. In his off time, he screws and tries to forget the life he used to know.

And in those horrible quiet hours when he lies awake, trying to sleep when even the pills won’t let him, trying to escape and can’t, he thinks of you. He thinks of his love for you and your hold over him even now, a world away, and when he’s extra lonely, he imagines you on top of him, writhing and beautiful. And when he comes undone, there’s nothing left but a gaping hole in his heart and a mess in his hand.

March 1960

Elvis bites his nails to the quick on the long journey home. It’s not just because of the planes and the exhaustion and not knowing if he’ll ever get back to being “Elvis Presley,” but he knows he’ll be seeing you in a matter of hours. Not years or months or weeks, but hours.

And he thinks that maybe he is finally over you, that maybe he’s healed enough from everything and that he’s on his way to start something new, something fresh.

But, God, somehow you are more beautiful now than before, but you act so strange around him, and his heart wants to leap and implode all at once. Somehow everything has changed…but you, you still own his heart.

Once he discovers your pregnancy, he is over the moon for you because he can sense how badly you want this. He doesn’t care that the baby is Jack’s—he loves it more than anything because he loves you and seeing you so happy brings him true joy for the first time in a long, long time.

His career is taking off again, his new image impressing those who denounced him a few years ago, and he already has appearances and recordings and films lined up to go. Life feels…almost good, like maybe he’s finally paid his karmic debt.

Then you almost bleed to death in his arms.

His terrified confession of love is spoken in an act of desperation, a singular hope that if you know he loves you, you won’t be able to go, that the string of fate that draws you both together cannot be broken, that he can somehow will you back to life with the power of his love.

He begs God, begs as he’s never begged before, an inner wail of blood-soaked prayer that does not cease as he rides with your near-lifeless form to the hospital, nor when he calls Jack and your parents, nor as paces the waiting room.

Singularly focused on his pleas to God, he doesn’t even realize he’s covered in your blood until Charlie and Jerry arrive shortly after the ambulance and look at him in shock.

“Jesus, EP,” Charlie gasps quietly, taking in the macabre scene, “We need to get you changed and cleaned up before Jack gets here.”

That’s when he looks down and sees your life’s blood staining his pants, his shirt, his arms, his hands. God, it’s even under my nails, he thinks as he watches his hands shake, feeling utterly disconnected from his body.

He’s frozen, unable to move, repeating his prayers again and again, until Charlie whisks him away and has to physically help him strip down and wash the blood from his body in the bathroom. As he watches the pink-tinged water swirl down the drain, he cannot bear the thought that maybe it’s the last thing he has of you, these stains, and that maybe he’s truly lost you.

He just got you back. He can’t lose you. He won’t.

No, his inner mantra of prayer doesn’t cease until he is absolutely sure you are going to be okay.

Though “okay” is relative, he learns quickly. You have a long recovery ahead of you, the surgeons say, wiping their sweating brows, and the next few days will be crucial. The baby is gone, and the doctors say that more tests need to be done once you are well to see if that is even an option in the future.

He is heartbroken for you, and for Jack. But you are alive. You are alive.

Lamar and Red have to physically drag him from the hospital in the morning to get him ready and put him on the train to Florida for Frank Sinatra’s special, which is the very last thing he wants to do. But it is absolutely pivotal in his career comeback, so he tells Rosie in no uncertain terms that she is to keep him posted about her sister and any developments.

As he showers and packs, exhaustion seeping into his bones, it suddenly hits him that he told you he loved you, and it’s likely there will be fallout from that. It makes him incredibly worried, and he is even more loathe to leave until he knows where he stands with you. It’s possible you won’t even want to see him again.

Or it’s possible she loves you, too, a little voice hopes. But he knows better than to feed that monster. You don’t love him, not like that, and it’s selfish of him to even consider at a time like this.

“It’ll take your mind off things, EP,” Jerry tries to convince him, seeing his trepidation, prodding him along to get on the train. “And it’ll give y/n and Jack and her family time to get situated.”

The message is clear. Elvis is not in the inner circle of your life, not anymore, not as he wants to be. This fact is both sobering and cutting at the same time. It reminds him yet again that where he goes, you cannot follow, and where you go, he is not always welcome or needed.

He nods solemnly, thinking he finally understands, yet again, the terms of his deal with God. You live and he keeps his distance, he keeps his sins from tainting you. You live and he lets you go.

He pops a couple of pills, brought over from Germany, to wake him up, to get him in the performing mindset, to rev him up to being THE Elvis Presley. “Anything she needs, anything at all, comes to me,” he tells Jerry, “Hospital bills, recovery costs…and I want the best doctors helping her figure out her pregnancy issues. Oh, and send flowers, every day.”

Jerry nods, eyes observant and keen. “Of course, EP. Anything for y/n and Jack.”

Yes, anything for you.

You don’t remember a thing from that night, he learns from Rosie, and most of him thinks it’s for the best. But a small, egotistical part of him thinks bitterly that you certainly have a knack for forgetting anything monumental that happens between the two of you.

But he is busy. So busy, in fact, that he barely has time to think of you at all after that.

Except half the songs he chooses for his comeback album have something to do with you, which he only consciously realizes when he steps up to the mic to sing. And just as he thought of you the night of the talent show, he thinks of you now, singing about the girl of his best friend and how it feels so right being with you. He pours his hopes and dreams and frustrations and sorrows right into that album.

Perhaps it will cleanse him of needing you. Perhaps it’ll help him let you go.

When you find out that children are likely not in the cards for you and Jack, he sends more flowers, every day for a week. Jack is devastated and practically begs to come out to Hollywood to escape the sadness, so he agrees.

Anything for his friend, right?

He takes care of you from afar. He takes care of everything. Anything you could possibly want or need is yours. But he keeps his distance.

That is the bargain.

He falters at Christmas, almost letting his grief and yours ruin everything. He swears that you feel something for him, that maybe your impulse to be with him was not entirely driven by the drugs all those years ago. That maybe you do somehow remember his confession. Part of him swears if he had let it happen, you would’ve been his once again.

But you are not his, you never really were.

And while he knows this on a logical level, the more he is away, the more he fills his days with mindless movie making and wooing his costars and taking pills that bring him up and more that pull him down, the more he lets himself imagine you are his. From a distance, he can take care of you. From a distance and in the deep recesses of his mind, you belong to him and him alone.

“Elvis Presley” becomes a household name, now with a clean-cut image, alluring to both housewives and teenagers alike. His fame and wealth grow, and so does his isolation and loneliness. So does the need for the pills and to bring the rest of the guys into it all with him. Even Jack.

Especially Jack.

But he doesn’t like to think about why that is.

He manages to destroy his relationship with Anita along the way. He loved her, in his way, he really did. But she was not you. Neither is Ann, though he thinks for a moment that she may be the answer to his prayers, but in the end, he screws that up, too.

As the years drag on, he thinks he finally understands why he sabotages every relationship he’s ever had—it’s you—none of them are YOU. So he flits from fling to fling without ever truly landing because all he really wants is your love. But he doesn’t deserve it, he never has.

He knows this as he watches Jack descend into alcohol and drugs and women, and a small, horrible part of him wants Jack to self-destruct, and even though he knows this hurts you, he is too selfish to stop it. And the guilt of this, coupled with the downturn in his career, pushes him to self-destruct, too.

Still, he keeps his distance. When he’s home, he tries not to shoot you too many lingering glances. He reins himself in, most of the time, but in moments of weakness, he allows himself to get too close. He catches you alone, he makes a pass. But because you are you, you always rebuke him with a laugh. Silly Elvis, ever the jokester.

But sometimes, in the dark of night, in your beautiful, wide eyes, he sees something else. That deeper connection that drew you together in the first place, mixed with a heat he has only seen once or twice. And it is that which keeps his hope alive.

In an attempt to bury it and fill the hole in his heart, he almost marries, but in the end, he can’t go through with it. He’s wildly unhappy and dissatisfied, and it’s not until he finally gains some control over his career again that things take a turn for the better. He finally starts to clean up his act. He seeks knowledge and spiritual clarity. He finally finds his passion for music and performing again after nearly a decade.

But it’s too late for Jack. He managed to drag Jack to hell and while he made it back, Jack has not. And you are miserable because of it. This breaks his heart.

He tried to give you everything you wanted and needed by stepping back to let Jack do so. He kept his distance. He did what he’d promised God, and yet life still destroyed your dreams.

Jack no longer makes you happy. Jack is no longer the man who can give you what you need.

And suddenly Elvis wonders if he was wrong all along. That perhaps he wasn’t the man you needed then, but he is now. Perhaps his sins have been forgiven. Perhaps the more he pushes you away, the worse things become for both of you because you are indeed supposed to be together.

You are his. You’ve always been his.

So, riding high from his first Vegas performance, he finally allows himself to pursue you. He pushes away a decade and a half of guilt and shame and lets his charm and confidence entice you. He lets the sparks fly between you, finally free after all this time, and more intense than ever. To his gleeful surprise, you accept him willingly, if not a bit hesitantly.

Maybe it is just sex, he thinks at first, this carnal need he has for you, but he knows better. As soon as he tastes you after all these years, he knows he can never let you go again. As soon as he coaxes, then watches you come undone again and again, he realizes that still, after all this time, this is it for him. You are it. You always have been. And he will do anything to keep you, to make sure you know that you are his.

He thinks you might remember it all after that first night, but you don’t, not right away. He senses your fear to let go, to let yourself have him, to have this affair. He knows you want this to be only sex. And maybe it is for you, at first.

But he will have you. He doesn’t care how many mountains he must move or what he has to do to convince you to stay, but he loves you more than anything in the world and he’s not willing to part with you, not anymore.

It’s true that his fame, wealth, and influence have spoiled him into always getting what he desires. Of course, what he truly desires always has been you. Now unlocked, his love and want and need for you is insatiable, and he will do anything to keep it that way.

Anything for you. Anything but letting you go.

As the blackout of his rage starts to dissipate and he comes to, he assumes that his friends are holding him back from quite literally killing the disheveled and beaten man who used to be his best friend, and he watches with deep satisfaction as you slap the shit out of your husband.

He also feels the immense guilt of letting it get this far, of not knowing just how bad Jack was to you, and his part in all of it.

But when you vomit and promptly fall to an unconscious heap on the ground, his fear is what overshadows his rage and guilt. Something is wrong, he knows it.

Not again, not again, not again.

Triggered by your history, Elvis, with untold strength, wrenches himself from the four men holding him down and clamors to your side, everyone else forgotten.

Pulling your limp body into his lap, he screams for someone to call the doctor. His heart pounds so hard he thinks he might need one, too.

Please God, please God, please God. Not now, not after all we’ve been through.

That deep-seeded, old shame creeps back in as he rocks you: This is your fault. Your selfishness did this. You destroyed Jack, he took it out on her, and you’ve put her at risk, yet again. You are a scourge on this woman you claim to love so much. A pestilence.

He’s getting lost in this fearful despair, and then Jerry’s voice in his ear snaps him back: “EP. EP! You have to let her go, man. The doctor is here.” Jerry pulls his arms off her as the doctor examines her.

Elvis’ fingers go straight to his mouth, his obsessive habit of biting his nails taking over as he watches the doctor carefully.

The doctor looks up, taking in the scene. He looks at Elvis, then at Jack bleeding against the wall, and purses his lips. “Will somebody tell me what happened to this young lady?”

“There was an incident…” Jerry begins diplomatically.

“Her husband slammed his fist into her face!” Sandy yells over him, furious, earning scathing looks from the entourage. They knew better than to give details, knowing to keep things close to the chest and avoid any legal issues, to protect him at all costs.

“Sandy!” Jerry admonishes her.

“No, it’s okay, Jer,” Elvis says firmly, waving him off. “I’m sure the doctor knows to be discreet.”

The doctor looks up at his hovering, intimidating form, and says nothing for a moment. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I need to get her to a hospital and stabilized as soon as possible. She needs x-rays. It’s likely she has a serious concussion, Mr. Presley.”

The men start to argue, knowing that as soon as she leaves this room, a whole host of problems could fall down on them, but that’s the last thing he cares about right now. All that matters is you.

Elvis holds up his hand and everyone goes silent. “Do what you need to do, Doc. Anything she needs.”

The doctor nods and asks that someone phone for an ambulance.

Elvis looks up and sees that the men cleared the room at some point, leaving only the major players. Jack still sits, leaning on the wall next to Red, his face battered and bloody, watching the doctor. Elvis can’t tell if Jack is sorry or not. Elvis walks towards Jack, his anger tempered only by his concern for you.

“EP!” Jerry says in a warning tone, signaling for the men to flank him.

“I’m fine,” he commands, crouching at Jack’s side.

Jack flinches.

“Are you proud of yourself, Jacky Boy? Are you satisfied, seeing her laid out on the ground like that? Is this what you wanted?” he hisses.

Jack says nothing. He sees the tears in Jack’s eyes, the regret through the pain, and for a second, Elvis almost sees the man he used to know in there.

“Hmm,” he tuts, looking over his friend with disgust, shaking his head. “I’ll deal with you later. And you, too,” he says, with a low, deadly calm, pointedly to Red. Then he rises easily from the floor, his attention on the men with the stretcher who just entered the suite.

“It’s never enough with you, EP, you selfish motherfucker. The man who gets everything he wants, no matter how many lives he has to destroy to get it. The rules never apply to you, do they? Dammit, you coulda had anyone, anyone! Why did it have to be y/n?” Jack spits out mournfully from behind him.

Shame snakes through him, through the anger that continues to boil under just the surface, covering the sorrow that flows under that. There is truth in Jack’s words, he knows that, even though he wants to deny it.

“How long, Elvis?”

He supposes he owes Jack that much, though he doesn’t even turn his head.

“Opening night.”

“No, you bastard. How long have you been in love with my wife?”

The room goes silent yet again.

Elvis turns around, but he cannot bring himself to look Jack in the eyes for a moment. A lifetime of memories flashes through his head, of times much better than this, of times when they had each other’s backs. Ultimately, he knows what Jack has become is partially his fault. Ultimately, he knows it was wrong of him to want you when you weren’t his, wrong to have sex with you, even before the debacle of you and the pills. It was wrong of him to manipulate Jack into marrying you.

As much as he hates Jack right now, he once loved him, and still, he betrayed him.

Jack chuckles darkly, “That fucking long, huh?”

Elvis finally looks Jack in the eyes but says nothing. Nothing he can say will make any of this less of a fiasco. Nothing he can say with make it right, no matter how much he wants to jump in to defend himself, to tell Jack he saw you first, to tell him he wanted you first, to fucking explain that you’re his goddamn soulmate and he’s had to watch you be with someone else for almost two fucking decades.

“Ahhh, and she didn’t even know, did she?” A hint of a smile plays on Jack’s bloodied lips. “Didn’t even give the King the time of day! Well, at least I got that goin’ for me,” he laughs.

His brow furrows as he fumes, and he steps towards Jack again. Lamar puts himself between the two men.

“It’s fine, Lamar, let him at me. What do I have to lose now anyways?” Jack laughs, which turn suddenly to sobs, “You were my brother. I gave up my life for you! I loved you, man!”

The words cut Elvis to the bone, flooding his fury with more guilt.

“And I love her,” Jack sobs.

“You don’t fucking love her,” Elvis says, infuriated, pushing past Lamar to grab Jack’s chin, wrenching his head to look at you being put on the stretcher. “You hurt her. You been hurtin’ her. And Jack, if she dies, I don’t care what brotherly love was between you and me—I will fucking kill you,” he says, low and vehement in Jack’s ear, for only him to hear.

He pulls back to stare Jack in the eye, to let him know just how serious he is, to make sure he understands that through the pain and the alcohol and whatever pills he might be on.

Jack blinks through his tears and nods his head once, shakily.

Elvis releases him.

Then he steps in behind you, still unconscious, on the stretcher as they take you out of the penthouse and to the elevator.

“EP, I really don’t think it’s a good idea to…” Charlie starts, hustling behind him.

He turns, seeing the stares of the men who have given him their lives to stand by his side. Some of them are befuddled, some understanding and resigned, some even a little suspicious after tonight’s events.

“I don’t give two shits if it’s a good idea or not, I’m goin’ with her. Anyone wanna argue with me about it?” he says impatiently, shooting up an eyebrow.

No one does.

It’s good it’s the middle of the night, otherwise he would’ve caused a huge scene at the hospital. But the nurses and doctors seem to gather by his demeanor that now is not the time for autographs. Instead of putting them in the waiting room, they set up an empty room at the end of the hall for the lot of them, a gruff old nurse warning them they best be quiet and not wake any of the patients before she closes the door on them.

And for the third time in his life, he waits to know your fate.

He waits for you, just as he’s been waiting for you for the last 18 years.

He waits and he prays, though this time, he makes no bargains with God.

He stills when the doctor finally comes to tell him that, yes, you do have a concussion and though you will likely experience symptoms as you recover, you should recover fully. He feels like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders.

When the doctor leads him and him alone back to your room, the doctor mentions the other symptoms you’ll likely experience and that you might have issues with your memory leading up to the event. Elvis cannot help but chuckle at that.

“Oh, I’m betting she will,” he says under his breath, though this time, he thinks it might be best after what you went through tonight.

He sits by your side in the quiet, dimmed room, and is taken aback by the angry bruising already spreading over your beautiful face. His fury at Jack swells through him once more, followed immediately by sadness. You look so innocent and fragile lying there. Suddenly, he feels afraid to touch you, as though you might break.

So, he waits. He waits for you to wake and he prays. He thinks of the lifetime he’s had without you and the life he wants with you going forward. And this time, he knows he won’t be leaving your side for anyone or anything.

But his secrets still lay heavy and dark on his heart. There are those things he cannot tell you of that day at Graceland so long ago, and the things he still cannot bring himself to admit to, like his confession of love as you almost died in his arms and his meddling in your life. He doesn’t want to tell you how all of it has led to you lying here in this hospital, hurt and fragile but somehow still his, he hopes.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do about it yet, so for now he just waits for you to come back to him.

He’s been too rough with you, he thinks, in his quest to show you how you are his. Pushing you too hard to keep up with his rockstar lifestyle and his insatiable need for you sexually has not been good for you. You’re exhausted, not eating, and have been on an emotional rollercoaster for days, and he was too consumed by his own selfishness to listen, so much so that he almost drove you away. The hurt, the feeling of pure panic that shot through him when you said you were leaving was enough to bring him to his knees, but of course, he could not tell you that. He couldn’t show you that weakness. Instead, he’d covered it with anger and passion, fucking you into submission.

He realizes his dominance, while fun in the bedroom, is perhaps masking his true feelings. He has told you in so many words how desperate he is for you, how he wants you to be with him, to let him take care of you, how he is yours, that he needs you. But in truth, he is afraid. Afraid that you don’t and never will feel the same towards him as he does towards you. That it is only his coercion, manipulation, and his sexual prowess that keeps you here with him. No matter how much you say you are his and that you will stay as he fucks it out of you, he’s not convinced that you’ll feel the same in the light of day, of your own accord.

Lord, the way you said you needed him tonight flashed him right back to that first time with you at Graceland. The time you don’t remember. He is putty in your hands now, just as he was then. But that need of yours was only sexual. If it is truly just sex for you and you are only staying for that…well, that scares him and makes him want to hold onto you so tightly that you can’t leave even if you wanted to.

If you don’t ever feel that same pull inside your heart, in your soul, that he has for you, he’s not sure what he will do.

Gone is the bravado and confidence gleaned from years of being Elvis Presley. Instead, he sits here at your bedside feeling stripped to his core: a nervous, stuttering boy with a funny name who loves you more than life itself. He is that boy who picked your books up off the ground, the one who you calmed backstage with your sweetness and wit. For you and you alone, he is just Elvis. And he’s worried he won’t recover if you don’t ever grow to love him.

Anxiety courses through him, a throbbing pulse that serves to remind him that for all he has and is in this world, he is still only a man. And you are the girl who has comforted him through some of his worst moments, yet now after all this time he’s still terrified to let you truly see him. If he lets you in, you will see him for all that he is and all the terrible parts of himself he’s ashamed of: his selfishness and possessiveness, his overindulgence, his obsessive tendencies, his goddamned vanity and ego. His secrets. If you know the things he’s kept from you, he’s not sure you’ll ever forgive him. Certainly, you could not love him.

His heart aches at that thought, flooding him with despair. He needs you so badly that he cannot bear to risk showing you everything; however, a deep part of him wants to flay himself bare to you, to expose himself in a way that he has never done before, not with anyone.

Elvis puts his head on the bed near your hand. He is going to be gentler with you, especially after tonight. He will prove to you that he is worthy of your love, that this is so much more than just sex. He’s going to take care of you and give you the life you’ve always deserved.

God has humbled him once again tonight, and he knows he must do better.

He loves you so deeply he can hardly breathe.

So, he waits. He prays.

And he hopes that one day, you will love him, too.

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