#look at them on the left 💔💔 sobs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mooooonnnzz · 1 month

Note

hi!!! I fell in love with your content and I wanted to make a little request, since it was on my mind for a while...

It's kinda cringe but I saw your hc's/fic about Stan's and Ford's reaction to their daughter having a partner, but what would they say about the break-up??? how would they react?? 💔💔

I'm Glad There Is You

Stan + Ford HC's of you getting broken up with!

ʚ♡ɞ 4,2k words

ʚ♡ɞ we're so back

ʚ♡ɞ i've been cooking this up for the past few days mwehehe

ʚ♡ɞ i won't be publishing fics as frequently! but its better cuz i wont be pushing out poopy fics. i can actually take my time with them and make em better :3

ʚ♡ɞ that's all enjoy! request are still open too :p

🎱 Stan

𝄞 Stan hadn’t suspected a thing when he saw you rush into your room after being out all day. You occasionally do that when you were exhausted and had no more battery left in you to uphold another conversation. But, when he saw you all disheveled in appearance. Not bothering to glance at him, let alone tell him about your day, he knew something was up. Springing your wellbeing in the conversation was tricky. He knows that if he straight up asked if you’re okay, you’d burst out into tears and cry out incoherent words that sounded like mushed up sobs into his ear. So how could he ease you into talking about yourself without having you break down? For the remainder of the day, he was tackling himself with ways he could ask about how you’re doing, stemming from slapping a sticky note on your forehead to passing a note under your door. But none of them seemed effective. His brain was splitting into two. He couldn’t decide and the day was coming to a close. The orange overhang of the sun shone into the shack and Stan was contemplating on asking your partner why you were sad because if he didn’t know what was going on, your partner had an idea or the full picture. He decided against it though. Maybe this was something you’d rather keep to yourself?

𝄞 The stress was so bad he had to go outside for a quick smoke. Seeing you in an emotional state of disarray sends him into one as well. He plucked a cigarette from his pack and pinched it in between his lips. Craning his head up a bit to light up the cigarette, he shielded the orange flame sparkling to life from the wind with his cupped hand. He blew a stream of smoke into the evening air, his electrifying nerves nulling into a soft calming buzz. He knew smoking was bad for him, but he couldn’t stray away from it in times like these. The door to the front porch painfully creaked open. Looking over his shoulder, he softly smiled upon seeing you. “Pumpkin,” He pats the side right next to him. You take the seat and inhale the crisp air—well, from what you can get with all the cigarette smoke littering the air. “Second hand smoking is way worse than first hand.” You mention, delicate amusement trailing in your words as you take a seat beside him.

𝄞 “You’re the one who walked out here knowing I was smoking.” He replied with a flick of his hand. Another trail of smoke escapes his mouth as he exhales, his body visibly relaxing into the familiar routine. “I should get a cigarette too.” You stretched out your arms, cracking a small smile. “Heh,” Stan flicked the cigarette, small shreds of ashes trickling down from the burning end of the stick. “You think you’re funny.” You nod intensely. “I think I’m very funny.” You look off into the horizon, eyes carrying such a thick somber look to them Stan had to finally ask the question he had been beating around the bush for who knows how long. “You okay, kiddo?”

𝄞 Your eyes glisten over with tears, bottom lip trembling as you hold back the words you’ve been dreading to say to your dad the minute news broke out to you. “Oh, [Name].” Stan burnt out his cigarette, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and bringing you closer to him. The pure affection coming from Stan made you pour out more tears, trembling sobs wracking your body as you mournfully cried onto his shoulder. “Let it out, sweetpea.” His hand comfortingly patted your back. This wasn’t how he wanted this to go, but maybe you needed a quick cry to comfortably tell him what happened. His stomach churned as the suspicion of the reason why you were crying into his shoulder rose. He had a feeling on why you were acting like that, but he had hoped he was wrong.

𝄞 He wasn’t wrong. He was right, unfortunately for him. After recollecting yourself to the best of your ability, Stan had discovered that your partner had broken up with you earlier today for reasons that they had not specified. Frustration bubbled up inside Stan and it took every bone in his body to not slam his fists on your ex’s door, gun in hand to shoot them down for breaking your heart. Instead, he opted to swallow down his anger and tend to you. You needed him to be right by your side and he wasn’t going to suddenly up and leave to shoot down a person. He’d wind up in jail and then you would have to deal with the loss of your partner and your dad. The thought sent chills down his spine. You peeled yourself off his shoulder, leaving a slobbering teary eyed stain on suit. “I’m sorry.” You mutter, eyes red and burning from the force of squeezing them closed. “It’s okay, sweetpea. You don’t need to apologize for things like this, you know that right?” His thumb swipes a stray tear off your cheek. “I know,” You hiccup. Stan seeing you like this infront of him shredded his heart into tiny little pieces. Who could hurt you like this? How could someone protect his child’s heart and break it the next day? Your partner even promised that they’d never pull a stunt like this, and yet here you are, bleary eyed and sniffily.

𝄞 Your face pinched with a forever sorrowful look and for a second he thinks that he’s never going to have you back, he’s never going to see your smile ever again and that alone terrifies him. There has to be something that can cheer you up, right? You’re not forever stuck in this pool of sadness? This is something someone can get over right? All prior knowledge to his personal relationship flies off his head and out the window. He removes himself from his thoughts and grounds him in the moment. What is something that’ll cheer you up? An idea sprouted in his mind. “Want to watch a movie with your old man?” He doesn’t know how you’d respond to his offer and it slightly scares him. He’s never been able to fully predict your every move, but he has made some sense of them later on, but he’s never seen you in this state before and he doesn’t know what to expect. “I’d like that.” You meekly nod your head and Stan has to contain himself from lurching up into the air and cheering out in happiness. Rather, he clears his throat and broadly smiles at you. “I’m gonna take a real quick shower. Pick out a movie you wanna watch and I’ll be back in no time.”

𝄞 The rest of the night was spent snuggled up in the sofa, a blanket of yours of when you were a kid was draped over you and Stan. It barely gave you any coverage but you claimed that it did when Stan would mention it. Stan didn’t want to disagree with you and besides, the blanket reminded him of when you were a little kid, carefree and giddy with little to no knowledge of idiotic people who’d carelessly shatter your heart and leave you without any consolation. The movie that was playing was and still is an all time favorite of yours. You and Stan had memorized the lines that have been forever sewn into your brain from how many times you forced Stan to watch it when you were little. Guess some things don’t change. The days following are full of extensive care and love, enough that would be overbearing to anyone that wasn’t you–at least sometimes.

𝄞 Fishing outings were a must. Stan would rapidly knock on your door, standing on the other side decked head to toe in his fishing outfit. Your fishing hat in hand. You couldn’t say no to him when he’s looking at you with such a sad look in his eyes and dressed up, putting on your worn fishing hat that has seen better days. Stan proudly smiled at you, wiping off a tear from the corner of his eye. “Why are you crying, Dad?” You chuffed nervously. “My eyes are sweating!” He covered his eyes with his forearm, violently sobbing as he walked away to get the fishing gear. In his defense, he hasn’t gone fishing with you in a good long while and seeing you wearing your fishing outfit really triggered the water works in his eye. The past week has been an emotional wreck for you and him, who could blame him? You had forgotten how much fun fishing was. A laugh rattles through your throat as you reel back your fishing rod. This must be your third attempt in catching a fish, and Stan’s enthusiastic commentary struck a funny cord within you. With a few more tugs and reeling back, you caught the fish. “Awesome catch!” He patted your back with so much force, you jolted forward, making the boat lean to the side, causing you to lose your footing and drop the fish in the water. When you were about to revel in your loss, you heard a large splash and large droplets of water sprinkling over you. You turned your attention over to where the splash was heard and to your luck, Stan bobbed his head out of the water, gasping dramatically as his arms flailed around. “Dad!” You laugh.

𝄞 “The water isn’t even that deep.” Talking was a task to do with how hard you were laughing. “Oh.” He stopped thrashing around and allowed him to sink to the bottom of the lake floor. And to his surprise, the water barely even passed his upper chest. That realization made you hunch over in laughter. “Oh, stop laughing!” He grabbed onto the edge of the boat and tried pulling himself up, but the sudden shift in weight made the boat tip over, sending you and all the other belongings in the boat into the freezing water. “[Name]!” He looked to where you were under the water, ready to dive in and grab you from below when you sprung out of the water. You stared at him, cheeks puffed as you struggled to hold back your laughter. “Oh, whatever.” His initial panic was washed off with playful annoyance. “Go ahead, laugh at your old man.” He rolls his eyes upon hearing your boisterous laughter echo in the air. “That was insane!” You wrap your arms around Stan’s neck, hoisting yourself up so you don’t drown while laughing. “Yeah, go ahead. Laugh at this poor old man who’s clearly struggling.”

𝄞 Singing your favorite songs in your karaoke machine was his favorite way to catch you off guard. He’d notice you reminiscing on the past and he’d make a beeline to your machine, slamming the buttons that would turn it on and play a song that you like. His gruff scratchy singing voice always pulled you out of your mind and into the present moment. Walking into the living room where he relocated your karaoke machine for times like these, you couldn’t help but laugh as he passionately sang into the microphone. “Disco girl, coming through! That girl is you!” He points the microphone at you, motioning you over to join him. It takes some convincing but when you do, you and him are blissfully singing your hearts out into the microphone.

𝄞 Seeing your partner around town was an immediate mood kill for Stan. Unaware and in a chipper mood, he found himself in the grocery store. Stacking up on food and snacks to fill your stomach and his. When strolling into the available cash register, his smile curls into a grimace when he sees who was behind the counter. “You,” he spat out. “Ah, Mr. Pines!” They nervously chuckled. “Good to see you. How’s it been?” They can’t make eye contact. The lazer like glare Stan was giving them was enough to know that things haven’t been good. Grabbing an item from the shopping cart, he hovered it over the conveyor belt, mulling over his thoughts. He could not pay for this and run out of the store or he could unscrew the carton of milk and squirt it all over your ex. Or maybe, he could do both? With speed no one could comprehend, he undid the lid and spilled the milk all over them, chucking the empty carton right on their head for extra measure. He then grabbed the cart and bolted out of the grocery store, leaving everyone in the store stunned. “Is anyone going to arrest him or?” A random passerby asked, watching how your ex just stood there, completely befuddled with milk dripping down their body.

𝄞 “Dad? Why is the news saying that you assaulted a worker in the grocery store with milk?” Stan scoffed. “Don’t believe everything you see on the news, sweetie.” He takes a good sip of his pitt cola. “But it shows camera footage of you doing it.” You gesture to the video that was playing. “Fake news. You know how technology is advancing. They can make anything these days.” He grabs the remote and switches channels. “There! Now, we don’t have to see that.” You smile, elbowing him. “It was cool that you did that.” You mutter. He chuckles. “The kid deserved that.”

𝄞 Drives around the town and wreaking havoc in rival attraction traps were a good stress reliever and anger outlet. You were swinging with all your might, your axe that was in hand was splintering through the large wooden statue. “Keep going!” Stan was serving as a lookout, his eyes switching through the front door and to you. Sweat rolled down your temples as you delivered one last final blow to the statue. The statue slowly tipped forward. “Let’s go.” Stan urgently whispered, running back to the family van with you in tow. Stan started the van and sped out of the parking lot and into the driveway. “God dammit, Stanley Pines!” The person emerged from his house, shaking his fist in the air. You clapped your hands together, laughing. “That was a fun one.” You noted, swiping the sweat off your forehead with your shirt. “Who’s next?” You ask eagerly. “Check on the map. You decided where we will go next.” This was the first time you fully smiled at him with your signature laugh following after. No remnants of sadness stuck to you. He knew right then and there that he got you back.

📖 Ford

𝄞 Ford was peacefully slumbering on the couch when the front door was slammed shut, scaring him awake. He jolted forward, the book that was covering his face fell flat on his lap, startling him. “[Name]?” He closes the book in his lap and pushes it aside. You didn’t respond and he was quickly resorting to the idea that it wasn’t you. Creeping towards your room, his knuckles knock on the door. “Sweetie?” He puts his hand on the knob and very slowly turns it. “I’m coming in.” He announces. Opening the door, his eyes land on your back. Quiet sniffles and hiccups could be heard coming from you and Ford’s heart clenched in his chest. He never liked hearing you cry. “[Name]?” He settles himself down on your bed. He couldn’t get to see your face properly since you were curled inwards with your blanket slightly obstructing your face, but he could see your body quiver as you suppressed your sobs. Ford sucked his bottom lip into his teeth. Equally as clueless as his brother, he doesn’t know how to approach this. He hadn’t had the slightest idea of why you’re crying and that truly bugs him.

𝄞 His hand rests on your hip, fingers tapping in a soothing rhythm. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” He’s chewing on his lip, anxiety running its full race through his body, relentless and awfully energetic. He’s sure by the end of this, he wasn’t going to have a bottom lip from how much he was nibbling on it. You shuffle further into your blanket in response. “You don’t wanna talk about it?” He croaks out. He never liked when you pushed him away in your most vulnerable moments. He knows you mean well but he detests being in the unknown. You let out a small hum. He had learned over the years that two hums were yes and one was no. It was a very asbured way to communicate but it did come in handy when you weren’t in the mood to talk. This was a way of telling him that you weren’t in the mood prevented Ford from asking an assault wave of questions.

𝄞 “Do you want me to stay here with you?” Two hums. Patting your waist, he shuffles to the other side of your bed and plops down right next to you, mindlessly staring off into the ceiling. His anxiety was still pounding through his body, his clammy hands and beating heart proved that but it quelled a little of it knowing that you wanted him beside you. That you found comfort in his presence. He’d hope you did, he didn’t raise you all these years just for you to hate him. Wait, you don’t hate him, right? You could never hate him. He’s your dad! Can kids hate their own parents? He hated his dad so that can be a generational—

𝄞 “I think hear your overthinking from here, Dad.” Your voice comes out muffled from speaking through the blanket covering your face. He blinks, swallowing his doubt and looking over to your blanket covered face. “Sorry,” he lets out a dry laugh, scratching his cheek. “It wasn’t my intention to annoy you.” You pull the blanket down to the bridge of your nose, allowing Ford to see your irritated swollen eyes. “You’re not annoying me, Dad. You being anxious makes me anxious.” Ford cracked a smile. “Like father, like child.” That managed to pull a smile from you. “Unfortunately, I grow to be more like you everyday.” You say with a roll of your eyes. An overdramatic offended gasp leaves Ford. “And that’s a bad thing, how?”

𝄞 Playful banter was tossed between the two of you, each quick remark and quip allowed you to pick yourself up from the hole you were cowering in. After a while, you mustered up everything you had and told him about the break-up. Ford really couldn’t believe it at first. You had to repeat it to him twice much to your dismay but once he caught what you said, his face fell. “They were a waste of time anyways.” He said with a flick of his wrist. “Dad!” You weren’t expecting him to come off so strongly over hearing the news. “It’s true. They couldn’t even take my work seriously! How could someone laugh at my face when I tell them that aliens are real? Someone is clearly stuck in the stone ages.”

𝄞 He was riding on the mindset of you need to forget this person and move on. Wallowing over losing them wasn’t ideal and you need to distract yourself with other things to prevent yourself from dwelling back on the thought of them. He was done with your ex, so should you. But he was real quick to find out that you weren't exactly like him in that aspect. He’d find you resting on the couch, eyes mindlessly staring at the TV as you’re cuddled up with blankets upon blankets. Tear marks were stained on your cheeks. Maybe you couldn’t distract yourself? Maybe he should be the one that distracts you? He’d scribble drawings of you and him on a piece of paper and fold it up into a cute little airplane and toss it over to you. You would unwrap the little gift with a smile, tears clouding your eyes. “Aw, Dad...” You held the piece of paper to your chest.

𝄞 Your favorite dinner would be cooked almost everyday, and if you have more than one, you bet he’d be coking it up in the kitchen, offering different favorite meals every night. Anything that would bring the smile on your face back. Adventures out into the woods, just like old times, was a thing he’d bring you along with. Even when you did protest and groan, whining how you would rather cry into your pillow, Ford stood his ground and made sure that you got ready for the adventure he had meticulously planned. The minute you step into the familiar lush woods, a sense of calmness falls over you and suddenly you’re a kid skipping around in the woods, in search of anything to show Ford so he could write about the new discovery in his book. Finding old discoveries lightened a smile on your face and unknowingly to you, Ford would draw you in his book like how he did when you were younger. Old habits die hard.

𝄞 A lot of nights were spent you talking your feelings out to Ford. He was a good listener and had a few quips of advice to lend over, since he’s been in a similar but not so similar predicament. But he was more intent on listening to your concerns and anxieties. “I can’t believe I let them do that!” You plop your back down on your bed, anger spilling out of you in sharp words. He shook his head, a very sassy “mhm,” leaves him. “They didn’t deserve you anyways.” He moved his finger side to side. “Why are you acting like that?” You laugh, gingerly pushing him. “Don’t your friends act like that when something happens?” You beam from ear to ear, a loud laugh escaping you. “No! Where did you even get that from?” Ford shrugs. “I don’t know. I just thought they did?” He pretended to act clueless and with a big smile of his own, he watched you curl up in laughter over his ridiculous act. He could only think of how much he missed your smile and beautiful laugh.

𝄞 Seeing your ex at the mall was a surprise both for him and them. Ford was scanning the shelves in search of something to get you when they approached them. “Sir, do you need any he…” Their words die in their throat when they register who they’re talking to. Ford hasn’t made the correlation yet, his attention so wrapped up in finding you the perfect gift. “Do you need any help?” They repeat, their voice cracking. Ford lazily looks over to them, dismissing them before looking back. Then, a look of recognition washes over him and he whips his head over to them. “You!” He loudly yelled. Customers in the store glance over to them. “Mr. Pines, keep it down.” They stressed out, teeth gritted together. “I will–.” An idea came to mind. “I’m sorry.” He rolled his shoulders back, untensing them. They look to the side, uncomfortable with the sudden change. “You’re sorry?” They repeat in disbelief. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be on my way.” A strained smile pulled to his face as he bid goodbye. Stepping out of the store, he sees you happily munching on a blueberry muffin you bought from the bakery. “Hi, Dad! You got anything?” He looks around you. “Do you have any food?” You place your muffin down on the table and grab the bag full of treats. “Yeah. I got some–” Ford dipped his hand in the bag and pulled out a cookie. His other hand digs into the inner pockets of his coat and pulls out a vial of pink sprinkles. “I knew I was going to use this at some point.” He mutters to himself, popping off the cork. “What are you doing?” You ask, watching as he sprinkled it onto the cookie.

𝄞 “You’ll see.” He winks at you before scooping it off the table and walking back into the store. Minutes later, he comes out with a big sinister smile on your face. “What did you do, Dad?” He pointed at the entrance of the store and it didn’t take long to see what he did. A flamingo human-like creature erupted into the store, squawking crazily as their head desperately swiped from side to side, looking for someone. Their black beady eyes landed on you and Ford. An angry squawk was heard from them, their chicken like legs slapping on the floor as they charged at you and Ford. “Run!’ Ford grabbed your wrist and darted away. In a quick swiping motion, you grabbed your bag full of treats before being whisked away. Loud bird noises were heard behind you and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Who is that chasing us?” Ford took a quick turn into another store, shuffling past people and hiding in a discreet corner with you. “That may be your ex angrily chirping at us.” You clapped your palm onto your mouth, an effort to muffle the laughter that left you. “Of course you’d do something like that!” The rest of the day was stealthily trying to escape the mall without being pecked to death by a very angry flamingo. When you did, you were laughing all the way to the car. “Do you always have that around for times like this?” Ford nods. “You’ll never know when you need to make someone a flamingo.” The automatic slide door pulls apart. “Pines!” The now fully turned flamingo human hybrid squawked out. “Get in the car, hurry!”

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen @cedarmoonzz, @katharine3000

dm or comment if you want to be added to my taglist :3

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anadiasmount · 8 months

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hey love! could you write a blurb about jude being mad at you and not talking to you and you make it up to him and he knows he cant stay mad so he forgives you and you cry and hes all like "dont cry bby" something super fluffy

hi hi hi!! here you go lovely! 🤍 i think i would cry the minute he starts ignoring me… 😟💔

| masterlist | jude's masterlist

you rolled your eyes and walked away from jude who scrolled through his phone quietly and undisturbed. he had been ignoring you since last night when you had accidentally forgotten to remind him you had plans. they were made super quick so he was left dumb founded when you were out and instead at home with him.

you texted him prior before you left and you guess he had not read that. jude was being cold, ignoring your hugs or attempts of kisses. last night when you got home all he could do was turn and face the door and didn't even utter a good night. you tried to make his favorite cookies but he looked at them and went to training. he hadn't said a word since the day before.

jude was chatty, sometimes you would lose focus on what he was saying because he went from one story to another in a span of seconds. it began to irritate you when he wasn't speaking, not answering texts, calls, and even questions you asked. he simply felt like a stranger.

you got up early to make him breakfast, even a small snack so he could have it after training. filled his training bag with clean clothes and his extra pair of boots, and his water bottle. he didn't even thank you, walking away and into the taxi to the training center.

it bothered you the entire day how distant and immature he was being. jude was the type to check in, so glancing at your phone every minute that passed also didn't help. he should be able to talk it out instead of acting like a jerk. you cursed at him silently in your head, pinching the bridge of your nose before returning back to your tasks.

on the way back home, you picked up his favorite meal from the grocery store, getting all his favorite snacks and drinks he would eat around the house. you got a deck of cards and a new board game to try out. you wanted to make it up to him, any way possible.

jude continued to ignore you throughout the evening, making you start feel uneasy and guilty for a small mistake you committed. part of you also still felt angry because he would even bother to answer anything or the fact he was in his own world making you feel like an outcast. your eyes burned with tears as you heard him walk upstairs, choking back a sob as all you wanted was to be held by him.

jude upstairs was also beginning to feel he dragged it out to much. a feeling in his chest when he remembered how defeated you looked as he came up to your bedroom. he wanted you to feel like he felt yesterday, but he could see it wasn’t the same for you. jude had to resist the urge to tell you about his day, the thank you’s for making him food and cookies, for going above and beyond all day so he could lay attention to you.

a plastic wrapping caught jude’s eyesight after an hour passed. you still hadn’t come up and he was afraid you wouldn’t because of how he acted. he was overreacting he knew it, but also he felt disappointed and upset at the fact you clearly forgot to tell him about your plans till last minute.

“what the?” jude asked himself as he approached the wrapping. he uncovered it being faced with a cartoon drawing similar to those they did at fair of the two of you. next to it was a small minion holding a small box of box of hershey kisses and a hand written note by you.

ilysm my little minion (jude) 🖤

- y/n 💋

he laughed feeling the guilt in his chest as he stared at the three pieces you got him yesterday while you were out. you always thought of him, like jude always thought about you. he grabbed the three items and headed downstairs where he saw you watching a movie, covered with a knitted blanket and laying on your side.

you yawned slowly drifting in and out of sleep, your body feeling as it sinked into the couch and would never come back up. you listened to jude as he paced around, your heart racing when he began approaching you. you continued to stare out into the tv, tears brimming your eyes again as you felt the need to apologize.

jude sat by your legs, looking directly at you not being able to hold it in any longer, “y/n? don’t cry baby…” jude said gently grabbing your arm and helping you pull yourself up into his arms. you let out struggles of scattered breaths and sobs, holding him tightly against your front and on his lap.

jude ran his hand on your back, soothing your choked sobs and whines. “i’m sorry y/n, i was being immature and a jerk when you didn’t deserve it. you made a mistake and i had no right to push and ignore you like i did,” jude apologized first pulling you back so he could wipe away the tears.

“part of me was hurt because i wanted to spend time you and you weren’t here. and you had advised me last minute you were going out. you always tell me a day, a week even a month in advance when you go out, i don’t know why i thought negative thoughts…” jude continued, kiss your hand and rubbing your cheek in comfort.

he watched you finally relax into his embrace, eyes closed and wet due to the tears, lips slightly plump and swollen from crying. “i saw your gift,” jude says happily, watching your glossy eyes lift up as you gave him a small smile. “where should we hang it up?”

“anywhere you want,” you say shrugging still trying to wrap your head if he actually stopped ignoring you. “y/n? you know i love you so much too right? i didn’t ever mean to make you cry, princess…” jude frowned pulling you down to him once again.

“but you did jude. i was so scared and nervous you wouldn’t talk to me because of that! you didn’t say goodbye nor a thanks, i called and you wouldn’t answer, texts straight to read! i was worried sick you wouldnt check in at all!”

jude heard you muffled out, feeling you hold him like you wanted and craved last night. jude peppered kisses onto your collarbone, “forgive me baby. i won’t ever do that again,” jude say between kisses. “ever ever ever again jude… we talk it out that’s how’s things work, okay jude?”

“and i’m sorry too. my head went to a different mind place and idk why i told you last minute when i had know the day before. i’ve been busy with the upcoming charity project it went through my head,” you apologized as well, holding his face between your hands as you placed small kisses on his cheeks, nose and temple. anywhere you had access to, feeling him smile and tug you closer to him.

“and i love you.”

“i know baby, i know. i also saw it on the note next to the minion holding the chocolates,” jude laughed making you giggle loud. “he kinda looked like you,” you joked hearing a small gasp come from jude’s mouth. “take it back!” jude says putting your against the couch and tickling your sides and neck. “never!”

“okay okay i take it back,” you say out of breath after laugh uncontrollably. jude and you never fought or argued, so holding him like this after not being able to felt like a reward. your leaned up and kissed him, sighed in delight as you felt the familiar plump lips with yours. “do i actually look like a minion,” jude said nervously, scratching the back of his head.

“yes yes you do…”

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #football fanfic #footballer #football x reader

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midnightcrw · 9 months

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hi if u don't mind could u pls write sth where simon and his wife wanna have a baby but the doctor says it may be risky for her to get pregnant so they kinda have an argument bc simon is reluctant due to the potential complications and he's afraid to lose her but she tries to reassure him that it's gonna be ok and says she's gonna be careful and make sure she's absolutely ready just sth angsty where he's worried about her😭💔

Pregnancy Risk

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader

Summary: You and Simon want to have a baby, but it seems there might be complications...

a/n: I hope you all will like this. I was very unsure how to write it, but then I came up with this. I'm also on the train right now. I'm very excited because I've never been to Paris before.

It was silent in your living room as you and Simon were sitting on the couch.

The two of you hadn't spoken since the doctor's visit, almost too afraid to say a word.

The only sound that could be heard was the ticking of the clock, and it seemed to make you both more nervous with each passing second.

"Simon, I still want to try," you whispered as you looked up from the floor at your husband.

You had wanted a baby for so long, and you were willing to at least try.

After the words left your mouth, Simon was torn from his thoughts as he clenched his hands into fists, closed his eyes, and breathed out.

"I don't think we should. You heard what the doctor said," Simon's voice was clear and monotonous, not letting his actual emotions be heard.

"But we can still try. After all, the doctor only said that it might lead to complications," you looked him straight in the eye, wanting to show him that you were willing to try, even if it might lead to potential complications.

Simon's face grew stern as he processed what you had just said, and he slowly began to lose his patience, "No, we won't try. End of conversation."

With that, he got up and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

He was terrified, even though he didn't show it, he was scared and it felt like his throat was starting to close itself up.

Simon couldn't bear the thought of something happening to you, knowing that he could have prevented it.

He had lost too many people in his life and he wasn't ready to lose another.

But you didn't let up as you followed him into the kitchen, "Simon, please," you pleaded, your voice breaking in the middle of your sentence.

"I said no!" Simon shouted suddenly, making you flinch as you backed away from him, tears beginning to well up in your eyes.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Simon cut you off before a single word could be heard, "We won't try for a child. I don't care if you beg or cry, but we're not having a baby!"

His words were harsh as he looked into your eyes, practically glaring at you, getting closer with each thing he said until he was right in front of you, forcing you to look up at him.

"You heard what the doctor said and I'm not going to let you do this," with that he walked away as tears ran down your face and you sobbed silently.

It wasn't easy for Simon either. He knew he was being harsh with you, but he wanted to get the point across, and he would rather have you hate him than actually try to have a baby that could result in your death.

Seconds turned into minutes and minutes turned into hours as it was now night. The only source of light was the moon shining through the window.

You were already lying in bed, looking up at the ceiling as you waited for Simon to finish brushing his teeth, wanting to talk to him about it again.

As you mindlessly let your eyes wander, you heard the sound of the door and Simon's footsteps. You looked at him as he made his way to his side of the bed.

It was quiet once again as Simon sat down with his back to you, removing his glasses from his face.

The glasses you had persuaded him to get and wear when the eye doctor said he needed prescription glasses.

When he put them in the box, he wasn't lying down yet. Simon's eyes were now focused on the moon, somehow afraid to lie down next to you.

He regretted yelling at you when you were in a vulnerable position. But he couldn't change it now, it had happened and Simon had to deal with it.

When you saw that Simon didn't lie down, you slowly sat up and thought about what to do, but then you just sighed.

Without making a sound, you wrapped your arms around Simon's broad chest from behind as you kissed his neck.

When he felt your touch, he tensed at first, but then slowly relaxed into your embrace as he felt your kiss.

Your hands drew small circles over his body as neither of you spoke for a while.

This time the silence didn't feel so tense, it almost seemed as if you both needed each other's presence now.

"I'm sorry for shouting and saying that to you," Simon's soft voice broke the silence as you hugged him a little tighter, letting him know that you were listening and that you forgave him.

It was the first time you had heard Simon's voice so defeated and broken. And it was obvious that the news from the doctor was not easy for him either.

"I'm scared," Simon admitted, his voice wavering as he uttered the word 'scared'. Your eyes widened a fraction when you heard that.

Ghost wasn't afraid, he never was. Ghost was the one who did what he wanted without fearing anything that lay in his wake, but Simon...

Simon was different.

Simon was fragile and vulnerable. Even though he had been through so much, he was still scared and afraid of every change that happened in his life.

These two were different and he wasn't even sure who he really was or which one of them was wrong, he just knew that he wanted you by his side no matter what happened.

"I'm more than scared," Simon let out a shaky breath as he continued, "I don't want to lose you.

I know the doctor said it's only a possibility, but there's also the possibility that you could die, even though I could have prevented it.

I don't want your blood on my hands.

I don't want your chest to stop moving when you take a breath.

I don't want your heart to stop beating.

I want you to live, and I'm terrified to hold your lifeless body in my arms," his voice wavered and broke with each sentence, but he had continued anyway.

And when he finished speaking, tears streamed down his face, not even trying to stop them as his hands trembled.

Hearing what he had just said made your own tears roll down your face. Slowly pulling your arms back, you sat down next to him on the edge of the bed, cupping his face in your hands as you moved his face to look at you.

Seeing his face made you so much more emotional as you kissed away his tears, letting your lips linger a moment longer on his forehead.

The feel of your lips on his skin made Simon's breath catch as he looked up at you when you were done peppering his face with kisses.

"I promise I'll be careful. We can go to the doctor regularly to make sure everything is okay. I won't leave you, I don't even want to think about ever leaving you behind," you whispered as you looked into his eyes.

Every word you said made Simon's heart beat faster as he was the one now, who leaned in to kiss you on the lips.

He let his mouth linger on yours for a second before pulling away to hug you tightly, wrapping you in his big arms as he stroked your back up and down, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

"Okay," he breathed out, closing his eyes and breathing in your scent, "we can try."

With that, he kissed your shoulder and whispered 'I love you' into your ear as you squeezed him tighter.

"I love you too."

#cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #ghost x y/n #ghost dad #ghost imagine #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley oneshot #simon ghost riley imagine #simon x reader #cod x you #cod imagine

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sansaorgana · 5 months

Note

I had an idea earlier about buck x reader, where after buck and the other 2 escaped and left bucky behind in part 9, they stumble upon a house near the forest (after the german kid soliders attacked them).

The reader lives there and she basically helps them hiding for a bit and also returning to the english base. She is against the war (which is the reason she helps them) and maybe a little angst where buck needs to protect her at the base bc she is still a german citizen.

What do you think?

hi! thank you for your request! 💞 honestly, I think it's the first 100% angst piece I have written for Buck because even the ones with sad events that I have posted so far had happy endings... but not this one 😅 since I have already written a similar fic and didn't want to repeat the same ending... I couldn't think of anything else how they could have their happily ever after 😪 I hope you can forgive me 💔

I had to currently close the requests because I got so many so I'm working on them atm 🙏🏻

In the heart of the enemy’s territory, he felt like a chased wild animal. Even though he was still human enough not to pull a trigger at a brainwashed German kid, Buck Cleven felt like a prey with nothing but survival on his mind. The forest was dark, muddy and unfriendly. A never ending maze with predators hiding all around. A thought of his dead friend and a thought of Bucky left behind were what kept him sane. The sun was going down slowly and he had no idea where to go. His other friend, Bill, was right behind him.

“Buck,” he hissed and waved his hand to make them both freeze in place. “There’s a house,” he pointed at the dark and old building by the country road behind the trees. “We’re close to town.”

“The lights are off. Maybe it’s inhabited,” Buck pointed out. “If it’s the case, we can find some supplies there.”

“Shall I go and check?” Bill asked.

“No, I will go,” Buck nodded and clutched on the gun in his hand hidden under the coat.

He walked carefully and slowly, making sure not to make too much noise, with his back hunched and breath steady. His blue eyes scanned the garden behind the house. It had herbs growing there but it was messy and the windows were dirty. Everything looked as if it was abandoned.

Encouraged by the looks of it, Buck walked to the front of the house and tried to push the door open but they were locked. However, the door was wooden and old, all it took was another, stronger push to open them wide with a loud squeak that made him wince.

He waited for a while to make sure there were no footsteps approaching him but when he heard nothing but silence, he entered the house and walked around curiously as the last rays of the sun going down lit the walls and the pictures hung on them. There were mostly family portraits and religious images – everything cosy and very cottage-like. There was only one portrait of a young soldier in a Wehrmacht uniform but his face was so friendly and sad that Buck didn’t even feel any hatred looking at it.

Focused on the picture, he lost his focus for a while. And then he heard a small noise and turned around with widened eyes as he spotted a young, scared woman in the corner of the room. She had a gun, too. Her hands were shaking and her pupils were huge out of fear but she was pointing the gun at him. He didn’t know if he should raise his hands and give up or point the gun at her in return – it was very doubtful she would actually pull the trigger.

He trusted no one. When he took a small step ahead to test her, she startled but she didn’t unload the pistol. So he pointed his own weapon at her and in that moment she dropped her gun and lifted her hands up while sobbing.

“P-Please, no,” she pleaded in English. “Please, don’t kill me,” her whispers were broken and shaky and Buck felt bad for her. Did she live in that house?

“Do you live here alone?” He asked, trying not to sound too nice. She nodded. “How so?”

“I lived here with my brother and my papa,” she explained and pointed her finger at the portrait on the wall carefully. “They took my brother away. In the beginning of the war. He didn’t come back. My papa, he was old now. But they took him too a few weeks ago. Because they need more men,” she was looking for the right words with her limited vocabulary.

“How do you know English?” Buck raised an eyebrow at her.

“Papa taught us. He was a soldier in the last war. He met the English and the Americans. He was a captive,” she explained and sniffled her tears. “Please, don’t kill me,” she begged once more and Buck felt stupid for still pointing his gun at her. He lowered his hand and she sighed out of relief.

“Do you need help?” He asked. Something about her and the state of this house made him forget about his own tragic situation at the moment. She was a young woman left alone in the middle of nowhere in a country that was on the verge of losing the war. It was not safe for her and she looked weakened as if she had not had any proper meal in a long while.

“Do you?” She asked.

“Me and my friend… He’s inside the forest… We ran away from the camp, too. We are American pilots. We need to get to the American soldiers. Do you know where we can find them?” Buck asked.

“They are in town,” the girl nodded. “I can take you to them tomorrow,” she offered.

“Why not now?”

“Because it’s dark already. And you need rest,” she pointed out. Buck squinted his eyes at her. “I don’t have a phone here. And German police are not here anymore. You are safe,” she assured him. “Tell your friend to come here,” the girl crouched down and picked up her gun again. Buck clutched on his but she hid hers into the pocket of her patched dress. “It’s not loaded,” she revealed to him with a sad smile. “I lost all my bullets two weeks ago when a few strange men came here and I had to scare them off.”

Buck nodded and slowly walked out of the house. He still was not sure if she was trustworthy but he craved nothing but rest. He came back for Bill and told him about the situation they had found themselves in.

“I’m not sure, Buck,” he shook his head. “Listen, what if I go there and scare her, steal some food and we run to that town on our own?” He proposed.

Buck understood where his friend was coming from. And he did not judge him. However, he did not agree to his plan.

“No,” he only said. “It’s just a girl.”

“They’re all just girls and boys. Like the kids back there in the forest,” Bill reminded him.

“I know. But she’s not like them.”

“How do you know that?” Bill requested an explanation.

“I just know,” was all Buck could say as he nodded at his friend to follow him.

Reluctantly, Bill went to the house after Buck. The girl was sitting by the round kitchen table and lighting a few candles. She looked up, giving them a doe-eyed look.

“I don’t have electricity here anymore,” she confessed. “But the candles are fine,” she added. “Here, I collected some of my brother’s and papa’s clothes for you to change. When I take you to town tomorrow, I don’t want anyone to know who you are. In the forest… There are a lot of people you can’t trust,” she explained.

“And you?” Bill asked, still not convinced. “Why can we trust you?”

“You have to,” she looked at him and then she turned around to point at the kitchen cabinet. “I don’t have much food left. And the fridge doesn’t work without electricity. I have some cans and a few wild berries I picked in the forest. Some cheese they gave me in town out of mercy.”

“We don’t want to eat your food,” Buck assured her. “Only a little bit.”

“I’m hungry,” Bill added and Buck shot him an unpleasant glance.

“So is she. And the food is hers. She doesn’t have to help us, you know?”

Bill went silent and took a pile of clothes to the living room where he began to change. Buck was left alone with the girl in the kitchen. She was looking down nervously, focusing on his hands to avoid his eyes.

“And what is your name?” He asked her out of courtesy.

“It’s (Y/N),” she whispered. “And yours?”

“I’m Major Gale Cleven,” he reached his hand out and she hesitantly shook it. She also dared to look up and meet his gaze. Buck felt his heart skipping a beat at the sight of how sad and broken those young eyes were.

Back where he was from, young girls were not affected by the war like this. Sure, they were worried about their husbands, fathers and brothers. But they were still drinking coke, danced at the parties, whined at the shortage of nylon and drew the lines on their calves to imitate the tights. They were slowly getting used to wearing jeans as they overtook the factories, they were poster girls and had their hair done up in victory rolls. They were marking the letters with red and pink lipsticks and perfumes. And this young girl in front of him already had the eyes of a very old and wise woman. It shouldn’t be like this.

“Major Gale Cleven,” she repeated. “Sounds like from a movie.”

He was just Buck. Nothing special at all. He was not even from Hollywood or New York. But to her he was already unrealistic enough. She batted her eyelashes and looked away, shyly.

“Not really,” Buck tried to convince her and she gave him a sad smile.

Bill came back in new clothes. It was Buck’s turn now but he was afraid of leaving (Y/N) alone with his friend, so he kept staring at them awkwardly.

“Go,” Bill rolled his eyes. “I won’t hurt her,” he promised.

So Buck grabbed a pile of clothes preparead for him and went to the living room to change as fast as possible. When he came back to the kitchen, Bill was already eating some canned food with a slice of cheese and a few wild berries. A similar meal was waiting for Buck, too. (Y/N) was sitting by the table but she had no food in front of her.

“And you?” He asked her as he sat down.

“I already ate,” she told him but he had a feeling she lied so he pretended to be full already after eating a half of the plate. He offered her the rest and she eagerly took it from him as her eyes sparkled. It was probably her first “proper” meal on that day.

After they ate, (Y/N) showed them to their rooms. One belonged to her father and it was downstairs. Upstairs there were two tiny bedrooms. One was hers and one was her brother’s. She wanted Buck to sleep in it. She didn’t have to say it out loud but he knew that she trusted him more than she trusted his friend. Bill was not complaining because the room downstairs was bigger and had a nicer bed.

When Bill was already in the bedroom given to him, (Y/N) was helping Buck to put the sheets on. He was insisting there was no need but she tried her best to be a good host even in such gruesome circumstances.

“When I do this… It’s a bit like… It’s still normal, you know?” She tried to explain the best she could. He nodded at her. He understood. “There you go,” she fixed the sheets for the last time and looked down proudly at the made up bed.

“Thank you,” Buck nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked up at the poster on her brother’s wall. It was very old and the colours were faded away now but he could recognise it. It was a movie poster of Charlie Chaplin’s movie City Lights.

“My brother liked Charlie Chaplin,” (Y/N) smiled. “And the films. Especially American ones. He didn’t get to see many but he liked the posters,” she explained. “When he was able to see a film, he would come back home and tell me everything about it.”

“I hope he’s alright,” Buck tried to cheer her up.

“He died,” she explained and he felt a stinging pain in his heart.

“You only said he hadn’t come back…”

“They sent us a medal and all. He’s dead,” she explained. “But papa threw the medal away. It’s in the river now.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t like Hitler. And my brother didn’t like him either,” she nodded. “I wish he was here, my brother. He would like you,” she added before finally approaching the door to leave him alone for the night. “Good night,” she walked away and closed the door quietly.

Buck was exhausted but he couldn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t stop thinking about the girl. What would happen tomorrow? She would take them to town, drop them off with the Americans and then what? She would just go back here? To that awful house in the middle of nowhere where she was starving and not safe? He hated to even think of such a possibility.

The walk to town was stressful and everyone kept giving them funny and suspicious looks. However, (Y/N)’s poker face and determination managed to take them to the town centre safely. It looked awful and empty – like a ghost town. She pointed at one of the soldiers patrolling the street and told them he was an American.

“Go to him,” she only said and turned around to walk away but Buck grabbed her by the sleeve of her coat and Bill hissed at him. Buck didn’t listen to that.

“What about you?” Buck asked her and her eyes widened.

“What do you mean? I don’t want him to see me,” she explained.

“You’re just going back home now?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“No,” Buck shook his head. “You’re coming with us.”

“What are you doing, Gale?” Bill asked, irritated.

“She deserves a warm meal at least,” Buck insisted and kept a tight grip on (Y/N)’s sleeve as they all approached the suspicious soldier.

They lifted their hands up and explained who they were. Their accents and believable numbers of their units made the patrolling soldier less hostile. But then he laid his eyes on the girl.

“And her?” He asked.

“She’s with us. She helped us,” Buck told him.

“I know her. She lives in this town,” the soldier squinted his eyes at (Y/N) and she took a deep breath in. “She’s German.”

“Yes, she helped us last night. We wouldn’t be here if it was not for her,” Buck repeated. “Listen, I just want her to eat something warm, alright?”

The soldier called for a few other men who came quickly after and had a short and quiet discussion. Eventually they nodded their heads at them and led them inside of a building full of soldiers. They all looked up curiously and suspiciously.

Bill left Buck’s side quickly to talk to the men stationed there. But Buck didn’t leave (Y/N)’s side as he felt he had to look after her in this place. They were given a proper, warm meal and they sat by the table in the corner. She was eating fast and with shaky hands like a starving child given food after a long while. Buck’s heart broke and he reached his hand out to hold one of her cold ones. She looked up, scared, and he smiled softly.

“Slow down,” he only whispered.

“The women here are nothing special,” one of the men sitting by the table nearby commented. “You should have seen the French ones,” he whistled.

Buck didn’t react to that as his jaw clenched. (Y/N) ignored that comment, too, but her eyes were saddened.

When she was done with her meal, Buck approached the man in charge of the unit and asked if they could give her a few cans of food and some other supplies. The man did not want to agree.

“We’re short on them ourselves, Major Cleven,” he explained.

“Yes, sir, I understand, sir. But she lives alone in the middle of nowhere. Her brother is dead, her father most likely, too. She helped us. She’s a good woman, sir,” Buck tried to convince him.

“There is no doubt about that, son. I’m sorry. She’s not the first and not the last good woman suffering in this war.”

Buck felt defeated and helpless when he approached (Y/N) who was already preparing to leave.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t convince him to give you supplies,” he admitted, ashamed of himself.

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine,” she tried to assure him and squeezed his arm. “You’re a good man,” she added. “Thank you for the meal… And the kindness.”

“I should be the one thanking you more,” he couldn’t help himself and he fixed her ruffled hair. Everything about her was screaming inside of him to help her, to take care of her. But he couldn’t and it was killing him. “I will never forget you, German girl.”

“And I will never forget you, Major Cleven,” she smiled and he could only watch her walk away, approaching the small road leading back to the forest.

If Bill hadn’t been there with him, he would have started thinking that she was nothing but a forest fairy he had imagined. After all he was in a land of fairytales.

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #rougegenshin #*buck #lilysfiction #gale cleven x reader #austin butler x reader

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iliketangerines · 3 months

Note

idk if you're writing or taking requests or not at the moment if you're not feel free to ignore this if are you tho...I need something with mk11 Kitana I wanna 69 with her, I wanna have scissor with her please anything 🙏 also also! can like Sonya join in? if not that's totally fine! just please I need to fuck mk11 Kitana 🙏 please I'm desperate 💔

a simple pleasure

a/n: hell yeah women

pairing: kitana x afab!reader x sonya blade

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), face sitting, pussy eating, finger fucking, overstimulation

you’re not sure how you ended up in this situation, perhaps a few too many drinks after the celebration of Kitana becoming Kahn and the repressed sexual tension

but right now, you’re laying on the bed, Kitana in between your legs with her tongue pressing firmly on your clit while Sonya keeps your arms restrained above your head with one hand while her other hand pinches at your nipples

you can only writhe in pleasure at the feeling and whine uselessly that it was too much

the Kahn had already made you cum on her tongue and fingers multiple times, but it seemed she was insatiable as your back arches off the bed again

pain mingles with the pleasure as you cum on her face, and you whine out saying that you don’t know how much you have left in you

Sonya just coos at you, telling you to be a good pet for them and let them relieve some stress, it’s been a long week for them both

Kitana moves back down with her tongue, curling her fingers right into your sweet spot to make you tremble and whimper as your vision starts to go hazy

Sonya’s rough fingers continue to pinch at your sensitive nipples, and you struggle to move, unsure of whether it should move into Kitana’s face or Sonya’s fingers

you opt to just gasp and whimper, biting your lip to try and stifle the whimpers, but the attempts are very much unsuccessful as Kitana presses her tongue firmly into your clit

Sonya hums, moving her fingers away from your nipple to trace her finger along your skin, trailing it down your neck, your chest, your stomach

she squeezes your wrists and takes something out from her utility belt, a wire, and she ties your hands together and to the headboard

you pull at the wire, whining as your thighs clench around Kitana’s head again, and you let out a choked sob as you cum again, tears pricking at the edges of your eyes

Sonya smirks at the sight, pulling off her clothes until she’s only left in a tank top and boxers as she crawls up right next to you

she presses her lips to yours, tongue prodding at the seam of your lips, and you open your mouth easily to let her in as you whine and moan

her lips move against yours fervently, only pulling back when both of your lungs burn for air, and she admires how pretty you look like this, helpless to their whims

Sonya trails kisses down your jawline, moving to your neck and sucking a dark hickey into the skin before sinking her teeth in the flesh

it makes you jump and yelp, hips bucking against Kitana’s face, and she looks up and mumbles to Sonya to be careful with their new toy before diving back in

the lieutenant just smiles against your skin and hums out that she will, trailing her kisses down lower to suck more hickeys into your skin

her mouth reaches your chest, licking at your skin and leaving light little bites into the skin, and she wraps her lips around your nipple, sucking hard

it makes you whine and whimper out her name, Kitana still lapping at you between your legs, and pleasure assaults you on ever side

you can’t help it as you start to cry, mind completely turned to mush as you let them give and give you pleasure

Sonnya licks and lavishes your nipples in attention, biting and sucking and pinching your nipples until they’re somewhere sore and swollen from all the teasing

she laughs and tells you that you’ve been so good for the both of them, and she asks if you want a treat

you nod, brain not all there as you stare at her with glazed over eyes, and she laughs and pulls your bottom lip down with her thumb

moving up, she shucks off her boxers and straddles your head, forcing your arms into an awkward position to accommodate for her thick thighs

sitting down carefully, Sonya eventually puts her whole weight onto your face, and you waste no time in pleasuring her with your tongue

it moves messily against her pussy, tracing through her folds and thrusting into her pussy before placing a firm lick against her clit

Sonya shivers and sighs, telling you that you’re doing well, and she grabs onto your hair and slowly moves her hips up and down on your face

you whine at the feeling and double your efforts, tongue thrusting into her as her clit grinds into your nose, and the lieutenant bites her lip and throws her head back

she tells you that you’re doing well, doing so well for her, being a good little seat for her and letting her ride your face like a slut

you can’t really hear her, not with sound muffled by the pleasure running through your body and her thighs covering up your ears, but you whine all the same, the vibrations traveling through Sonya’s body and up her spine

she moans at the feeling and continues to grind her pussy into your face, chasing her own high as Kitana brings you to yours

opening her mouth and moaning, Sonya closes her eyes and cums on your face, your tongue eagerly lapping up every drop, and she rides out her high on your face

she stands on her knees and asks how you’re doing, and you just nod and whine

Sonya looks back to Kitana, and the lieutenant licks her lips, wanting to get a taste of exactly how sweet you are

she moves off of you, tapping Kitana on the shoulder to make the Kahn look at her, and she says that it’s her turn and that the Kahn should get a treat for herself

for a second, it looks like Kitana might disagree, eyes so dazed from eating you out and being consumed by your taste, but she agrees

she moves away from your thighs, making you sigh a little in relief for a rest in the assault on your clit

Sonya just laughs and heads over to her utility belt and pulls out a vibrator, turning it on and letting it buzz

she sees your eyes widen, the sight soon covered up by Kitana getting up onto your face and slowly pressing her weight down onto your face

Sonya hooks your thighs underneath her arms, pressing the vibrator in her hand to your sensitive clit, and you jump at the feeling, gasping into Kitana’s pussy

the lieutenant just smiles and slides her fingers into your pussy, finding you nice and stretched from earlier, and she adds in a third finger to thrusts in and out of you slowly

she’s slow, slow enough to have you teeter over the edge into your orgasm but not enough to have you actually follow through

Sonya just lets the vibrator buzz away inconsistently at your clit, bringing you through spasms of pleasure, only for the buzz to die down or disappear before anything can happen

Kitana sits nicely on your face, petting your hair and cooing at you while saying that you’re doing amazing for the both of them, so pretty underneath them, so obedient

Sonya tells the Kahn that she’s spoiling you, and she just waves off the lieutenant, saying that she can spoil whomever she wants to

Sonya laughs and shrugs her shoulders, telling the princess to not come running to her if you suddenly become all bratty and needy

Kitana just huffs and continues to grind herself into your face while Sonya continues to just torture you with sweet slow pleasure

your pussy clenches desperately against her fingers, and your thighs twitch around her shoulders

but she doesn’t let up, just watching you arch your back and hum

Kitana’s head tilts back, and she lets out a moan as she cums, grinding herself into you until the high finishes

she gets up off of you, and immediately you beg, beg for them to make you cum, please you’ve been so good for them, been such a good toy and pet, please can you come

Sonya sighs and clicks the remote for the toy to buzz faster and vibrate more consistently

your whines are so sweet and delicious as you moan in the air, body struggling against the pleasure, but finally you let out a high-pitched keen and fall onto the bed limp

you pant into the air, eyes still glazed over, and Sonya flicks the vibrator off as the pleasure ebbs and fades away

she slides her fingers out of you, cleaning them off with her tongue, and you reach for the both of them with your hands, pleading with them to stay

with your big eyes and slight pout, neither of them can deny you and get into the bed, snuggling up close to you

almost immediately you fall asleep, and the two of them trace the curves of your body as they talk to each other and eventually fall into sleep with you

123 notes · View notes

tarjapearce · 1 year

Note

PLEASEEE MORE OF YPUR MIGUEL ANGST IM BEGGING YPUUU

This is a bit of Mama's side of the aftermath 💔-

Pt. 4

At every step you gave further from the burning mess, the deeper the knife he had plunged with his words buried inside your heart.

He doesn't love you.

Your eyes closed, almost loosing your footing in the process of stair descending.

He's disgusted by you

Mind kept chanting the terrible truths and doubts mostly of your family planted in that little brief time you had shared. A constant and eternal reminder to not come close again.

You had to stop for a minute to catch your breath so your brain could alternate between weeping and breathing.

Fucking Normal

His words still rang in your head, his tone as glacial as a blizzard. But even so, the blizzard felt safer since you would close your eyes to shield yourself from the snow. But how could you shield yourself from his piercing and judging glare? You had no armor against that cause in truth, you never felt needing it whenever you were with him.

He had disarmed you bit by bit, stashing your emotional armor behind in a vault only he knew the combination of, cause he made sure you'd never need it again, but now, you were left bare before him. Stripped, bare and shunned.

Was this one of his tactics? To make you feel loved, cared for and needed, to then just discard you?

He never loved you

Nausea clawed at your throat as the anxiety drilled and forced itself into your brain and guts.

You went home in a cab.

---

"Sweetie? W-What's wrong? You ok?"

Jess' words only reopened the wounds, fresh blood oozing from them as you clung to her and sobbed onto her shoulder as soon as she opened her apartment door.

"What happened, babe?"

You just hugged her as your breakdown spilled from the seams, unable to hold it anymore.

"M-Miguel..." Your throat choked as you tried to wipe your tears.

"He never... He doesn't..." You tried to hold your breath and voice steady so you could properly talk. But none of it was happening.

"He doesn't love me" You blurted and Jessica's eyes went wide.

"What are you talking about? He lo-"

"H-He thinks I'm just like my family, Jess..."

Your throat constricted again and she held you tightly.

"I know you warned me about him"

Jessica shook her head as she caressed your hair and sighed upon hearing your mourning heart speaking for you.

"I should've listened"

"I'm here with you, Sweetheart."

"He knows our of everyone that I'd never hurt him..."

"I know you wouldn't. You don't have to justify yourself to me, babe. He better apologizes. He needs to"

Your head shook.

"He doesn't want me. I can't be with someone that doesn't want me."

"C'mon, don't say that. We both know you love him"

"That's exactly the problem Jess! I know I love him, and right now I wish I didn't cause he hurt me with his stupid thinking that I'd judge him! He-" You sniffed and gave a shaky breath, "How can I trust him when he said I was just like them knowing that I don't get along with my family?! That I barely talk to them!" More sniffling came as Jess pulled the tissue box for you.

"You... you should've seen the way he looked at me."

You had to breath in between choked sobs to make coherence of your words.

"It hurt and still hurts so bad..."

Jessica's lips pursed in a straight line as she saw the few belongings you had left on Miguel's with you. Your necklace gone too. A necklace she had helped Miguel pick for you, to officially ask you to date him.

Shit.

Despite the anger coursing through her veins like molten lava, she knew that the only thing she could do for you was to be there as a friend. She'd deal with him later. Right now, all she could do was to drive you home, provide you tissues and a shoulder to cry upon, and help you to get the remnants of his presence out of your apartment. Our of your system. Out of your life.

Each item had a little of his essence still etched to them. A couple of hoodies that smelled like him. Faded cinammon and leather like with a tiny tone of your lavender detergent. A pair of his sunglasses that had his greasy fingertips imprinted on the black glass, and the t-shirt you had shared your body for the first time with him.

A t shirt you had begged him to keep, due the meaningful moment shared with him. As corny as he thought it was, he allowed you to keep it, after praising how good your thighs looked when you wore it.

And now, it was tossed to the box of mementos, ready to be sent back to their righ owner.

---

"Is bad..."

"You think!?" Sarcasm dripped, laced with venom on her voice. Jessica sighed and rubbed her temples as Peter was probably rubbing his face.

"Look, I'll see what I can do, ok?"

"You're not understanding, Peter. She just packed in his stuff, she wasn't wearing that necklace. And she was definitely having an anxiety attack when she came to me. I don't..."

She had to take a sharp inhale of air before speaking again

"I give two shits he's our friend. But he crossed the line. I'll give you his things for you to hand them over to him."

"Right. Right."

Peter sighed once more.

"I swear... Sometimes Miguel just..."

"He's acting like an ass, stop coddling him!"

"Im not. He's had it rough."

"And so his now ex girlfriend! And she doesn't go around, treating people like shit just cause he's unable to properly manage and sort his emotions!."

Peter just rose his brows in surprise at her words.

"W-What happened anyways?"

"They went to meet her family. Things didn't go well, I think, and they had a fight back home. She said that he told her that her family believes him a freak. You know how he is regarding that."

"Shoot... I'll try to talk some sense into him. If I find him that is. You know he just... isolates."

Jessica rolled her eyes.

"Let me know if anything happens. She's asleep now. Had to give her some sleep gummies. Babe needs a break."

"Of course. Nights then."

Peter hung up and Jess pulled the box on the living room. As much as he wanted to give Miguel a piece of her mind, she knew this was something he had to solve on his own.

At least, for tonight your broken heart could find some fake and momentary peace. Jessica just stared at your sleeping form and then at one of your pictures with him in your mirror. A small strip of kissing booth pictures, something you had probably bribed him to try.

A soft yet genuine smile on Miguel's face as you kissed his cheek with a loving grin.

"Dammit, Miguel"

Jessica Mumbled, unsure of trespassing your intimate bubble and hide the picture away. She just closed your door and let you rest instead.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#Pre Soccer Family ⚽🕷️#miguel o'hara angst #wife reader

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kooberryfields4ever · 9 months

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Hey I hope ur doing great! Can I have a jungkook fluff or anything where they have done the deed for the last time before he enlists for military n they have some sweet yet an emotional convo n him suggesting he will marry her after he comes back n asks her to wait etc. Basically them getting teary eyed n also joking abt stuff like the adorable munchkins they are! N also its cold out there I hope u take care of urself hun n keep urself warm <3

AHHhhsfhhdsghs i went so ham on this ask bc i think i speak for all JUNGKOOKNATORS when i say my heart HURTSSSSSSSSS😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔 i've had a countdown set for his return home so ...... 537 days left ... :(( GOD i can just imagine this scenario so well like he's so emotionally aware and intelligent and so so romantic....... like defos the type for a random proposal bc he is just so in love with u in the moment nothing else matters...... TYSM FOR REQUESTING !!! i hope u enjoy <33

pairing: jungkook x reader

wc: 685

content warnings: ouchie heart pain, enlistment, jungkook AND yn cry, it's sad, fluff <3

“You’re sweaty…” you murmur into Jungkook’s chest, unwilling to let go despite how gross it feels. Jungkook pulls you closer, nuzzling his face into your hair with a chuckle. There’s a moment of silence as you trace a finger along his pec, breathing quietly into his chest while he presses gentle kisses into your hair.

“I don’t want you to leave,” it comes out quietly, and you feel Jungkook exhale deeply before acknowledging you with an equally quiet “I know.” You sigh, lifting your head up to meet his eyes as he readjusts his arm under his head to look down at you. His gaze is soft, the subtle lines of heartache taint his wrinkles and it’s impossible to look away.

“If I could stay, I would. You know that, baby,” he continues, eyes never leaving yours. You listen intently. He brings his free hand up to stroke your head gently, coaxing you to lay back on his chest while he speaks. “You’ll be good, though, I know you will.” He leans his head back; you feel him shift beneath you as his fingers stroke up and down your back. You remain silent, chewing your lip as your fingers lay still against his chest. “Baby?” He questions, hand gripping your waist.

You hadn’t even realised you were crying until a hitched breath leaves you and you bury yourself further into him. Jungkook holds you tighter, sitting up and pulling you with him until you’re halfway in his lap. Your head falls into his shoulder, sniffling. He kisses your head again.

“Baby, come on, talk to me…”

“You’re l-leaving me, f-for so long,” you choke out, sobbing into his shoulder and all Jungkook can do is hold you closer, stroke your hair and kiss your skin. Guilt clouds his thoughts, all he wants to do is stay with you and protect you, knowing that his leaving is causing you so much pain makes his heart hurt. You cry in his arms for so long, saying nothing, just holding him while he touches you sweetly.

When you finally lift your head up to look into his eyes, you see his are red with tears too. In your sadness, you had neglected his feelings and he had let you. You cup his face, leaning your forehead against his tenderly as your thumb wipes at the tears dribbling down his cheeks. There are no words that could tend to the Jungkook sized hole in your heart, nor the you sized hole in his. You connect your lips, and the worry seems to drift away when Jungkook kisses you back sweetly. There’s no tongue, just the movement of your lips and the salty combination of both your tears; it doesn’t bother you, though, you want Jungkook wholly, in every way you can, and if kissing away his tears is how you’ll get there then so be it.

“Marry me,” Jungkook groans softly against your lips, breaking the silence as he tries to pull you impossibly closer. It should catch you off guard, but instead you kiss him deeper, nodding gently.

“I’m serious, y/n, marry me,” he pleads, pulling back finally with bated breaths. “Wait for me, be patient and wait and I’ll come back with a ring and marry you, I swear it.”

“Jungkook,” your eyes soften, tears threatening to spill once again as you heed his plea, “I’d wait forever.”

The smile on his face sends you reeling, all toothy and sweet and delicate and all for you. He takes your hand, interlacing your fingers as his thumb strokes softly over your knuckles, diving back into your lips with all the fervour of a man starved.

“I love you so much, you know that?” He assures you, gripping your hand tighter in an unspoken promise, “I’ll be back so soon, my precious girl… And you’ll be right here, yeah? Waiting for me, being patient?”

“Always, I’ll always be here, never gonna leave…”

His free hand slides up your face, touching you so delicately. His thumb traces your cheek gently. Eighteen months to go.

a/n 🗒️ . . . this was so fun to write !!!! i defos want to work on more asks in the future cos making ur ideas come to life (hopefully) makes me feel so good ...... i hope u guys enjoyed this !!!! don't hesitate to send more requests :3 i love writing fluff as well !!!!!!

#koob asks #i am so sad about him leaving me srsly #the next 18 months i will be counting down the days #jungkook fluff #jungkook #jungkook x yn #jungkook x reader #jungkook soft hours

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

Text

𝑰 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒚𝒆

part 1 of 💔broken family💔

summary - you had woken from a nightmare, one that was reality, only to live through more hell as your son slowly stops loving you.

warning - angst, swearing, cheating assumptions, divorce, self-doubt, breakdowns, misery.

the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 2

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

“Wait… Wait.” You hurriedly get out, struggling to understand the words that just left your husband’s mouth. Trying to process what was happening, you thought everything was good, you thought everything was okay. But apparently, on Ari’s side, nothing was okay. “What do you mean you want a divorce? What about Jason?” You blink, stunned, as you stare at the man you were desperately in love with. “Ari, answer me!” You beg and plead, needing to know why he suddenly woke up and wanted to leave.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/n. Just sign the fucking divorce papers. I don’t love you anymore. Don’t you get that? And you’ll drop Jason off at my new place.” He growls, chucking the papers and a pen at you and standing over you with his arms crossed over his chest. “Hurry up! I have to go to work, and I don’t want to deal with this when I get home.” You nod slowly, feeling your heart crack and shatter as you sign your name on the paper. You hold back the tears that threaten to fall, not wanting to anger him any more.

You wake with a choked sob and gasp. You looked around and were hit with the hard truth that the nightmare wasn’t just a nightmare. It was your reality. You sit against the headboard, pressing your hand into your mouth as sobs fall from your lips, the tears flow, and you can’t stop them. You must stay quiet so you don’t wake your son, which becomes more challenging as the memories keep flowing, and your heart shatters. You don’t know where it all went wrong. You thought everything between the two of you was going well. Why didn’t you see the signs? Had Ari always disliked you? Did he not love you to begin with? How could you not see it? You were so sure it was the perfect fairytale you had wished for. As the tears dried, you slowly laid back down and drifted back to sleep, and the nightmare kept repeating the whole night.

You had woken just as the sun had started rising, groggily heading to the bathroom and freshening up before heading to your closet and changing into a pair of jeans and a plain shirt. What was the point of looking good anymore? It’s not like anyone loved you. You head down to the kitchen, preparing breakfast for your son. You poured some coffee into a mug that Jason made for you with Ari, causing tears to brim as more memories flash before your eyes. You accidentally slam the cup down onto the kitchen counter, causing some of the liquid inside to splash out, and you stumble into the table, taking a few deep breaths as you desperately try to hold your sobs back. It had been months now since Ari left you out of the blue, and you still hadn’t gotten over it, not being able to move on, not being able to get a peaceful rest, and every time you had dropped your son off to his place, he had glared at you and spoke hurtful words.

You clear your throat, quickly heading up to Jason’s room and gently waking him. “Hey, baby. Breakfast is ready.” And just like his father, he ignores you. How could a four-year-old even ignore you like a grown man could? And why did it hurt a lot more? But you can’t show him that it hurts. You just help him up, changing him before helping him down to the kitchen, ignoring how he’d slightly push your hands away, babbling about how he’s a big boy and could do it himself.

“Mumma, when I see daddy again?” You stare at him as you begin to feed him. You won’t say Ari was a horrible father because he was probably the best father out there. But what did he have that you didn’t? Your son had only returned home a day ago, and Jason already wanted to go back. He didn’t seem to care to spend time with you… It was different when you and Ari were still married. Your son had been a mumma’s boy, he had clung to you, wanting to spend time with you, admired you, and now it’s as though you were a nuisance, someone blocking him from his father. “Mumma?” He huffs, pouting at you, as you blink at him.

“Uh, soon, baby. On the weekend.” You try and smile, clearing your throat before placing the spoon in front of his mouth and letting him eat the food off of it. You can see him become upset by your words, not liking the answer you gave him. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ll see him again. It’s not that long.” You try to reassure him, stroking his hair back, but feel your heart clench as he shifts away from you. You hide your hurt, blinking back the tears. “C’mon, eat up. You have kindy today.” As he finishes his breakfast, you ensure he’s brushed his teeth and grabbed his bag and shoes. You drive him to kindy, dropping him off, feeling a lump in your throat as he runs out of the car before you can even walk with him. You knew it was you because you had heard that your son wanted his father to walk him up but couldn’t because you were no longer together. Of course, he couldn’t say all that, but you got the gist. You drove to work, not caring that you didn’t look as presentable as you used to be when you were married, but you felt drained. You didn’t care how you looked anymore. If Ari stopped loving you when you looked your best, then why should you continue? It wasn’t like he’ll suddenly wake up and regret leaving you.

Your day consisted of pitiful looks, rumours, and people coming up to you asking if you were okay. Of course, you weren’t okay. You don’t think you’ll ever be okay. You had lost the love of your life and didn’t even know why. Did he find someone else? Was it someone younger, prettier? Was that why you guys stopped being intimate for so long? Should you have seen the signs long before the divorce? You blanked out during work, thinking it over, wondering if you ever smelt a perfume that wasn’t yours or if Ari had come home late, he had any lipstick on his collar. But you couldn’t remember. You had been brought out of your daze when your boss came over and tapped you on the shoulder, smiling at you softly as she whispered for you to go home and get some rest.

You had driven home, sighing as you parked your car, and entered your home, dropping down onto the couch as you felt the house's silence, no longer filled with laughter, happiness, or love. No wonder your son didn’t want to stay here anymore. Your husband had succeeded. Whatever sick game he was playing, he had won. He had managed to take every bit of happiness from your life. You had your son physically but not mentally or emotionally.

You hoped it would all get better…

At least you still had your hope… Right?

You thought you at least deserved a better goodbye.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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rayroseu · 1 year

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ohmygdo..... it really is Meleanor's event 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 The fact they invited specifically Malleus,,,

its most likely a reference to how Silver Owls "lured" Meleanor outside of her castle, because they already defeated all her soldiers so she's the only left... ,😭😭💔💔

Why do I feel like Lilia was suspicious of this act in this moment??? Maybe he already had a hunch that this was somehow a trap....?? Or maybe I'll cry and he's finding this suspicious because it reminds him of the last parting he had with Meleanor KDJKAJFJW😭😭😭🥲🥲🥲🥲

KCJAIFI Malleus looks so happy 😭😭💕💕💕 and Lilia's pensive face... LMFAO He can't deny and say this might be a trap when he's so over the moon at being invited.... He's such a precious dragon sjdhjss 🥲🥲💕💕💕

YASDQHSHSH😭😭💕💕 SOBBING SKBBING!!!! Its.... its been so long since I've last seen them smile happily with each other... ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I LAST SEEN LILIA BEING CALLED FATHER BY SILVER ‼️‼️‼️ PLEASE This HURTS SO MUCH😭😭 and that freaking smile... 😭💕💕 pls always be together...🥲🥲🥲💖💖💖

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twistedwonderland #twst glorious masquerade #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #lian notes #disney twst #twst disney

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missmaywemeetagain · 6 months

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Broken Glass Chapter 10 💔🥂❤️‍🩹

Ahhhh, my babies, we've finally reached the chapter I've been itching to tell you about for ages! And I cannot WAIT to hear what you think about it!

We left off in Chapter 9 with poor Lori fighting physical exhaustion and a gamut of feelings for Elvis (who's being a stubborn idiot), and when they arrived home to Graceland, their frustrations came to a head. Elvis finally confronted her about her past and a terrified Lori didn't take it well.

Now in Elvis' perspective, we pick up immediately after her collapse. He is mortified and lovesick and convinced that he's harmed her beyond repair. Oh, Elvis. 💔

Like I said, I can't wait to hear your screams about the twists in this chapter, so please don't hold back! 😁 I hope you enjoy!

Much Love! xoxoxox, Madi 💗

TW: Please scroll to the end only if you need them--I don't want to spoil anything for those who hate spoilers!

Broken Glass Chapter 10

Shit shit shit shit, Elvis chants in his head as you vomit violently onto the pavement, go grey as a ghost, and your terrified eyes roll back into your head. His lean arms wrap around you quickly when you collapse, keeping you from falling into your own sick or hitting your head on the ground.

“Shit,” he curses, out loud this time, following your center of gravity and scooping you up into his arms. “Lori! Come on, darlin’, wake up f’me,” he pleads softly.

Your body seems awfully tiny and much too light for someone who’s presence he can never truly ignore, even when he wants to. His heart slams in his chest, his blood already up from his temper, though it fizzled out the moment you started shivering and sobbing and apologizing like he was sending you to the gallows. The look of resigned fear on your face was enough to give him nightmares and that was before you’d lost consciousness.

He is no stranger to fainting women, it being a staple of his fame since almost the beginning. While he never could quite understand why he of all people caused such a reaction in young ladies, he was always as calm and gentle as he could be. It was his fault they got overexcited, after all—they couldn’t control it just as much as he couldn’t.

But this was different.

You certainly hadn’t passed out because you were overcome by the joy of his presence. Instead, you look like death, and he’s not remotely calm about it.

“What the hell happened? What’d you do to her?” Gene asks accusatorily, running up behind him, followed by the rest of the guys in various states of concern.

“What’d I do…? Shut yer damn mouth ‘fore ya catch flies, ya idiot, and go call the doctor,” Elvis huffs back, hoisting you up into his arms, swinging around, and hightailing it towards the house.

The fear that lances through him at your pallor and lifelessness hits like a knife. The seed of anger he’s held on to so tightly this last week withers at the thought he’s done real damage here.

This is my fault.

He’s not exactly sure how but he knows. He only had to take one look at your face when he called you out to understand you hadn’t meant to hurt him and your past scared you enough to risk the lie. Stupidly, he’d wanted the satisfaction of confronting your wrongdoing, for you to have a smidge of the hurt he was feeling.

But he never wanted this.

How could he have missed something was wrong? You are so damn strong, meeting every challenge thrown your way that he never considered you might be unwell. Selfish idiot, he chastises himself.

He comes close to kicking down the door to his home, but Charlie scoots around him fast enough to open it before he resorts to property damage.

“Come on, Little Bird, wake up for me,” he murmurs softly as he oh so gently sets you on the long sofa. He hates the boneless way you settle, eyes closed and completely unconscious. Nerves shudder down his spine and he doesn’t bother to hide them.

“Did someone call the damn doctor?” he yells at Charlie.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s on his way.” Charlie has the sense to look worried, unlike his idiot cousin who peers over his shoulder.

“Wipe that dumbass look offa your face and go get her some water!” Elvis snaps at Gene, who looks at him wide eyed for a moment before disappearing.

Brushing a lock of hair off your forehead, he holds and rubs your cold little hand in his as he quietly talks to you.

“I’m sorry, Lo, I-I-I shouldn’t’ve come atchu like that. I-I realize now that, um, maybe you had your reasons f’not telling me ‘bout your past. I jus’ thought you knew you could trust me, and-and it hurt that you din’t and sometimes I just get so mad I can’t see straight but I shouldn’t take it out on you…” he rambles quietly, “Please jus’ wake up, now, you gotta wake up, honey. I can’t do this without ya.” The admission falls breathlessly from his lips, soft as snowfall.

His heart plummets when he thinks about all the ways he’s taken his anger out on you this past week—ignoring you, throwing girls in your face, making snide comments—and his ego wants nothing more to justify his actions, but in truth, you were right. He had been playing mind games and not communicating why he was upset. He should have just asked you about it right after Frank spilled the beans instead of punishing you for something you didn’t even know he’d found out.

Lord, his mama would have his hide for such childish behavior.

Shame flames his cheeks and worries surround him like a dark cloud until the doctor shows up. You still haven’t so much as stirred and it has him nibbling at his nails—a nervous old habit he’s never quite been able to kick.

When Dr. Shaw arrives, Elvis shoos away the audience of men who’ve crowded the living room when he wasn’t looking. At least they all have the sense to look concerned.

“What happened?” Dr. Shaw asks, setting his bag down next to the couch.

“I-I-I don’t know exactly, one minute she was fine, well maybe not fine cuz we were in a bit of a disagreement, ya see, and well, she, maybe she was worked up? One minute she was standing there and the next she lost her lunch on the pavement and passed out,” he says, unsure if he’s making any sense.

“Did she hit her head?” The doctor asks, examining your hairline.

“Naw, I caught her before she hit the ground.” His leg jiggles uncontrollably, wondering if you’re okay, wondering what he could’ve done differently.

Dr. Shaw looks at Elvis over his glasses, taking in his nervousness. “Has she been ill otherwise?”

Elvis blinks. “Um, I-I-I’m not sure.”

The doctor is one of the only people who knows about his illness, who you really are and what you are doing here, so it’s unsurprising he looks a bit incredulous. “Elvis, you’re spending all of your time with this young woman, and you don’t know if she’s been ill or not?”

More shame bleeds through his chest and settles like a stone in his stomach. His face flushes red hot and the temperature in the room seems to have gone up without him noticing.

“Um, no, I-I guess not, sir,” he mumbles.

He knows his faults, and generally being uncaring isn’t one of them. But these past few weeks, he’s been thinking mostly about himself. His feelings. How your secret affected him. Not how it affected you, or why you might need to hide it. You’d tried your best to take care of him, apparently to the detriment of yourself.

No, he’d been mighty careless with you, and spitefully so.

Dr. Shaw gives him a pursed-lip look.

“I, well, now I know the new hours are keepin’ her busy, what with how I gotta live and all. I-I-I guess she’s seemed tired?” Elvis adds, desperate to fill the silence.

He doesn’t feel he can share all the other pieces, like how you’d been on the run from your mafia fiancé who’d…

Oh, Lord.

Dread rolls in his stomach when he realizes his misstep.

The nightmares. You quivering in terror on the bathroom floor. The bruises. Bruises he’d seen staining your body in places no bruise should ever be. The way you’d flinched when he touched you roughly.

Your fiancé had done that to you. That man was the reason you fled New York.

How stupid he was for not putting it all together sooner. Your fiancé hurt you, and you tried to escape the only way you could.

And Elvis was so afraid of loving you, so consumed by his own feelings, he punished you for it. Just another man in your life punishing you for something that wasn’t your fault.

Fuck.

His gut rolls, leaving him queasy. Through his horror, he wonders if you’ll ever be able to forgive him. If you even should.

Your little moan steals his attention as you stir slightly on the sofa.

“Lori?” he asks, jumping to, wanting you so badly to wake up so he can apologize, so he can make it up to you. “Please, baby, you gotta wake up now. The doc is here.” He grabs your hand and doesn’t even care how desperate he sounds.

“Mmm?” Your eyes flutter open and his heart swells to see those crystal blues start to focus.

“What happened?” you moan quietly, rubbing your eyes.

“You, uh, you got sick, darlin’ and then fainted,” he coos but there is an edge of disappointment in it, in himself.

Your eyes narrow and then widen with what he assumes is your memory coming back. He watches the trepidation and embarrassment fill your eyes. You slide your hand out of his, shirking back from him, and his heart crumbles a little.

I did this.

“Dolores, can you tell me what happened? How are you feeling?” the doctor asks.

Your attention pulls away from Elvis, your trepidation clouded by your struggle to focus.

“Oh, I’m sure I’m fine, probably just carsick from the bus ride,” you say, voice wavering, unconvincingly trying to blow off the concern.

“You’re not fuckin’ fine,” Elvis snaps before he can stop himself.

Your eyes widen and Dr. Shaw clears his throat.

“Excuse my language,” he apologizes, then tries to continue more gently, “but you’re not. You’re always gettin’ on me about not tellin’ you what’s what, so now you better answer the doctor’s questions truthfully, honey.”

There’s a beaten, submissive look in your eye that nearly breaks his heart. You turn your attention back to Shaw.

“I’ve had an ongoing headache for days…weeks, maybe? And I am exhausted,” you admit quietly. “Carsick on the rides. It’s probably just a virus. Nothing a l-little rest won’t cure.”

Dr. Shaw purses his lips. “I’d still like to do an examination and some tests. Is there somewhere more private we can go?”

“Upstairs.” Elvis jumps up, eager to be helpful and expend some of the nervous energy coursing through him. He extends his hand to help you off the couch, but you shrink back from him. Stomach churning with guilt, he watches as you warily push yourself off the couch to standing.

You wobble and sway on your feet, and his instinct kicks in as he immediately swoops his arm under you and lifts.

“Elvis, stop, I can get up the stairs by myself,” you protest halfheartedly, but by the way your body sags against him, he doesn’t believe you.

“Hush.”

Scowling, you don’t fight anymore, your eyes getting a dim and faraway look when your head plops on his shoulder with defeat. It’s worrisome.

By the time he maneuvers you up the stairs and into the bedroom, his growing unease has taken root. And it grows more when he sets you on the bed and you look like a shadow of your usual self. Like darkness is trying to swallow you whole and you are letting it.

He looks at Shaw, his eyes trying to convey the deep concern he now feels for your wellbeing, the concern that should’ve been there for weeks if not for his head being wedged so far up his own ass he refused to see what was right in front of him.

“Thank you, Elvis,” Shaw says, “Now, I’ll need some privacy to do the examination.” The doctor nods his head towards the door, dismissing him.

“Aw, hell no. I’m not leavin’ her like this.” He shakes his head stubbornly. The thought of her alone with any man but him suddenly makes his skin crawl, even though he’s known Shaw for years.

“Elvis, I’ve got her. Go. I’ll be down to update you in a bit.” Shaw’s voice is gentle but firm, leaving no room for question.

Elvis clenches his fists, his nostrils flaring.

Breathe. In, out.

It’s your voice saying it. He looks to you, sitting stock still against the pillows, staring into space, and realizes your voice is only in his head. It’s both heart-wrenching and comforting.

Finally, he nods curtly, then leaves his—our—room, shutting the door quietly behind him, resisting the urge to leave it open just a crack in order to listen in, to make sure no harm comes to you. But even in his current state, he knows that is overstepping. He forces himself to walk down the stairs, his mind churning.

After pacing the length of the house multiple times, beating himself up for his poor treatment of you, furious at your former fiancé for hurting you, and tying himself into knots with worst-case scenarios, he eventually finds himself at the piano. The only thing that ever truly quiets his mind is music. His fingers fly over the keys and he pours it all into the spirituals coming to him from deep within his soul.

God loves him best when he sings. Maybe He’ll hear his pleas for forgiveness, his prayers for healing—not for himself, but for you.

Lost in the music, he’s not sure how long he sings, but stops abruptly when Dr. Shaw appears in the doorway.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the doc says.

Elvis waves his arm dismissively. “How is she?”

Shaw hesitates. “It could just be a virus, but I took some blood and urine to test.”

There’s something he’s not saying, Elvis can tell. “And?”

Another pause. “I’m a little concerned about her…state of mind. I know I’ve only met her once or twice, but she seems withdrawn, almost traumatized. You said there was an argument?” He looks at Elvis with an undercurrent of judgement.

Heat blazes across Elvis’ cheeks, while guilt stabs in his belly. “I-I-I…yes, sir, but I’d never hurt her! And I-I don’t think…I-I mean, I don’t know…I think something happened t’her before we met,” he eventually gets out. It’s not his place to share your secrets, but damn if he’s going to let this doctor think he’s hurt you physically.

Dr. Shaw’s eyebrow raises, but he doesn’t press. He looks over Elvis with pursed lips and a watchful eye before his gaze softens.

“Can I go up and see her?” Elvis asks, almost desperately.

Shaw nods. “But she needs to rest. Stay off her feet. Eat well, if she can, and drink plenty of fluids.” Not run around after your ass, is the unspoken instruction. “Make sure she’s doing those things but…I wouldn’t press her.”

“Yessir.”

There’s tension hanging in the air before the subject is changed. “How are you feeling? Do we to have someone else step in until Ms. Cannava is well?”

Elvis grimaces, shaking his head. The last thing he needs is someone else poking around in his business, in your business. “I’m alright, sir. Probably could use a little R & R myself.”

Shaw looks at him with a critical eye. “Alright, son. Let’s keep it low-key, shall we? I’ll be back tomorrow to check in and hopefully we’ll have some answers.”

And with that, Elvis sees the doctor out.

He lasts approximately 90 seconds before he runs to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and takes the stairs quickly enough that he spills half the glass before he makes it to his room.

“Knock, knock,” he says gently, opening the door. You are laying on your side now, away from him, curled in on yourself on top of the covers and the sight nearly does him in for how vulnerable you look.

“Doc said you need plenty of fluids, so I brought you some water,” he rambles, coming around and setting the glass on the stand next to the bed. “Can I getchu anythin’ else?”

You blink slowly, but don’t respond otherwise. His stomach drops. It’s unnerving, the way you’re staring through him at the wall, vacant and broken.

He can’t have done this, right? Not like this. There’s got to be more to this than a silly fight.

You’re a fuckin’ asshole, the voice in his head berates. He wants to disagree but can’t. But this isn’t the time for him to feel sorry for himself. Standing here being useless isn’t helping anyone.

What would Little Bird do? The thought snaps him into action. “Imma gonna just take off these shoes a’ yours, okay?” he says gently, not wanting to startle you. With care, he takes off your heels one by one, setting them on the carpet at the end of the bed. He wants you to be comfortable but hesitates to undress you, unsure if that would be crossing a line. But he can’t well leave you to sleep in the clothes you wore on the bus for near a day.

After a minute of indecision, he plows forward. “Alright, honey, I’m just going to help you out of these clothes, just down to your slip, okay? Nothin’ more, don’t you worry.”

You don’t fight him at all, wordlessly allowing him to move you upright and undo your blouse. There’s certainly nothing untoward about the way his fingers manage the buttons or how they unzip your skirt. It’s not the way he ever wanted to be doing these things, though, he thinks as he strips your clothes and pulls down the spread on the bed. You have no outward reaction to him lying you down and pulling the covers up over your body, other than letting your eyes fall closed.

He thinks back to the care you’ve shown him when he’s been such in a state, and it’s what gets him through the feeling of helplessness churning in his gut.

Once you are tucked in, he grabs his own pajamas. He’s got no urge to leave you or deal with the idiots downstairs. No, even though his mind is going, he joins you in the bed, attempting to read the book on his nightstand while worry nags at him. Eventually, his eyes droop closed and the darkness takes him, too.

You are a bit more responsive the next day, eating a bite of the toast and jam he’d brought up for you, but you stay in bed, eerily quiet and entirely too withdrawn for his liking. He does his damnedest to follow Dr. Shaw’s instructions and leave you be, but it’s nearly impossible for him to not check on you multiple times an hour.

Honestly, he’s not sure you even register his presence half the time and fuck if that doesn’t stab him straight through the heart.

Charlie and the other boys do their best to distract him, but he’s got no humor for the usual fun and games. No, he’s much too wrapped up in his own head, vacillating from wanting to punch his way through the wall and being so lovesick he feels nauseous. The only thing keeping him from totally spiraling is the fact you are still here and alive and in his bed. He hasn’t lost you yet, he doesn’t think.

He can’t lose you.

By the time Dr. Shaw arrives in the evening, Elvis is about ready to jump down his throat with questions. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“Let’s go upstairs, son,” Dr. Shaw says, in a somewhat ominous tone. If the doc wants him there for the conversation, the news can’t be good.

Elvis’ heart knocks against his ribs with each step closer he gets to you. You can’t be sick. He’s only just found you and Lord, does he need you more than he needs air. If he’s learned nothing else, it’s that.

Fidgeting, he lets the doctor in the room, following close behind.

“How are you feeling today, Lori?” Dr. Shaw asks, sitting near you on the edge of the bed.

Your usually bright and savvy eyes seem dull as you take the effort to focus on the doctor and his question. “I’m tired,” you whisper sluggishly, shrugging.

“Well, I think we have an answer as to the reason for that,” Shaw says kindly, then motions to him. “Elvis, why don’t you sit?” He gets up from the bed, offering Elvis his spot.

Oh, God, it’s that bad. His dinner threatens to make a reappearance, but he swallows the bile down, sinking onto the bed near your legs.

Dr. Shaw clears his throat. “Ahem, well, Lori, the good news is I don’t think you are sick in the real sense of the word.”

A wave of elation hits Elvis. Thank you, Jesus.

“You are, however, pregnant.”

The crest hits, disbelief slamming into him, taking his breath away in a whoosh.

“How’s that possible?” It falls out of his mouth immediately and without thinking, imbued with much too much innocence after his jaw hits the floor.

A deeply biological sense of panic washes over him then because it is most unmarried men’s nightmare, especially a man like him, to be blindsided by news like this. But his biology and his brain aren’t on the same level because it takes him longer than it should to reconcile there is absolutely no way this child is his.

This isn’t technically his mess.

But the doctor doesn’t know that and peers over his spectacles with a raised eyebrow. “I trust I don’t have to give you a talk about the birds and the bees, Elvis.”

A flush of heat hits his cheeks and he shakes his head. “No, sir.”

All at once, the gravity of the situation sinks in. The bruises. Your fiancé. That fuckin’ monster. The slightly judgmental way Shaw is looking at Elvis because in the doc’s mind, Elvis is the one who got you in trouble.

Shit.

Finally, his head turns to you. Your olive skin is deathly pale, your icy eyes more intense than usual and shining with unshed tears as you stare straight ahead. Your fingers twist around and around themselves, something he’s noticed you do when you are nervous.

Elvis lightly places his hand on your shin and your eyes whip to his for the first time in over a day. At least you don’t flinch at his touch this time. Instead, his touch seems to ground you and he watches carefully as you come back into yourself and out of wherever your head has held you prisoner since he yelled at you yesterday.

Dr. Shaw looks at the both of you before continuing. “It’s very early days, my guess is—”

“Four weeks,” you finish, the pain of knowing exactly how long etched in your features. It makes his heart ache for you, and more than anything he wants to find the man who did this to you and make him regret he was ever born. But now isn’t the time for all that.

Four weeks is the same amount of time you’ve known each other, meaning this happened after he’d already met you.

How?

“Yes, and anything can happen in these early days, as you well know. I know this is a…delicate situation.” There is unspoken subtext in the doctor’s words, and while Elvis is piecing it out, you seem to understand immediately. The look you give him is heavy and filled with words you cannot say out loud yet. The silence sits heavy between you two.

The doctor takes his cue. “You two have a lot to talk about. Why don’t I come back tomorrow to do your exam and get you set up with what you’ll need going forward? Keep your activity light for now.”

You nod. “Thank you, Dr. Shaw,” you whisper.

Elvis stares at you, trying to psychically glean what you are thinking, but your eyes have shuttered and his own thoughts are going a mile a minute. It’s hard to focus until after he sees the doctor to the door.

“Doc, this probably goes without saying, but we need to keep a lid on this,” Elvis says quietly. He’s too much in shock to understand all the ramifications just yet, but he knows this world is unkind to unmarried young ladies who find themselves in the family way, even if it wasn’t their fault.

He’s got to protect you.

“Of course, Elvis. The same discretion I apply to you will apply to her, don’t worry son,” the man says, patting his back in solidarity.

He ignores the concerned and curious looks from the guys in the living room as he takes the stairs two at a time, his anxiety rising the more he’s away from you.

Skidding through the door, he grinds to a halt when he sees the empty bed. Frantically, he looks around the room, finding you in the closet.

“Little Bird, what’re you doin’?” he says, watching in disbelief as you start pulling clothes and throwing them on the bed before dragging your suitcase, which had only been put away yesterday, back out into the room.

“I have to go,” you say, deliberately not looking at him as you rummage in the closet.

“Go?” he asks stupidly. “Go where?”

“I don’t know…maybe out West somewhere. Canada, maybe,” you mumble, as if this a normal conversation.

His pulse thunders in his head. “What…no, why do you think you’re goin’ anywhere in your condition?”

“I’m not an invalid, Elvis, I’m pregnant,” you scoff. “I’m—” your breath hitches for a moment, your shaking hand revealing your true feelings no matter how calm you are trying to appear. “This isn’t on you, and I know you were getting ready to let me go because I lied to you, which I’ve accepted, but I had no idea…I should’ve known. And I thought I’d have more time to get ready…”

His mouth might be catching flies for how dumbfounded he feels as he tries to follow your rambling train of thought. You scurry into the bathroom and rustle around before returning with some of your things, which you dump haphazardly into the suitcase.

“I know you were getting ready to let me go…” circles round in his head a few times before it hits.

You’re running. And you seem to think it’s what he wants.

“Stop.” The command is low and firm.

You freeze in the closet for a moment before grabbing another armful of dresses, ones he bought you even though you insisted you didn’t need anything.

“Dolores, stop this right now and sit yer ass down, goddammit!” he raises his voice, pointing to the bed.

Finally halting, he watches a shudder run through you before you defeatedly sit on the very edge of the bed, your arms full of clothes. Refusing to look at him. He can’t tell if you are more afraid or ashamed, but either makes his heart crumble and the thought of you leaving has him wanting to break in two.

He sinks to his knees in front of you, desperately wanting to take your hands in his own but not wanting to overstep in your fragile state. He softens his voice like he’s going to sing a lullaby.

“Little Bird, I don’t want you to go. Why would you say that?” It comes out too pleadingly, but he can’t bring himself to care.

You blink rapidly, once, twice, processing his words, the unemotional mask you are trying so hard to keep on your face cracking. “You…you were so angry I lied and have every right to be! I thought you’d want me gone as soon as you found someone new,” you whisper.

“Honey, no—”

“And now, as if Gianni hadn’t already done his worst, now I’m…I’m pregnant.” Your voice chokes and the façade finally collapses as sobs wrack your shoulders.

Elvis can’t stand it any longer, sinking onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms. You go stiff for a second, resisting, but he squeezes, and you relent, your head falling on his shoulder, tiny hand clutching the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline.

Every quiet sob coming from you breaks his heart a little. He still doesn’t know you like he wants to but knows without a doubt you didn’t deserve to be hurt like this. You don’t deserve to bear the consequences of an evil man’s actions.

Gianni.

That was the name you said. Rage simmers deep in his stomach, but now is not the time to plot that asshole’s demise, no matter how much he wants to. Right now, Elvis has to make sure you don’t do something stupid, like leave him and run to Canada.

His shirt soaks with your tears. The damp sticks to his skin and should be uncomfortable yet it’s not. It’s proof you are here, with him, and he holds onto that.

“Breathe, baby. Just like you showed me—in, out, in, out,” he coos.

Sobs turn to sniffles. Your body shivers but fights for those slower breaths, your grip on him loosening as you seem to calm. He is lulled, too, his racing mind given reprieve for a moment, distracted by your presence in his arms.

Heavy silence fills the space.

“I have to go,” you whisper, sounding pragmatic and defeated, but calm. Peeling yourself from the cocoon of his arms, you stand abruptly.

He grabs you gently by the wrist, turning you back to him. “Din’t you hear me, lil’ one? I don’t want you to go. I-I’m sorry I been such an ass. I-I-I shoulda just asked ya what happened instead o-of punishing ya for somethin’ I din’t understand.” Desperation he’s unaccustomed to feeling leeches into his voice.

He looks up into your shining eyes, hating the warring resignation on your pretty features.

“Elvis…” you begin, stepping away, “you have every right to be angry but—"

“No, n-no…I mean, yeah, I was, but that doesn’t matter now. Please, Little Bird.”

You pause. “I need to leave.” You start putting things in your suitcase, much slower this time.

His heart cracks a little more with every beat. “No, Lori. You…listen, I-I-I’ll be a much better patient, I promise. I’ll stick to your diet and routine and all that shit.” He tries to make light but your face fixes in a determined scowl.

You just shake your head resolutely.

Finally, he grasps your hands. “Honey, ain’t you hearin’ me? I’m sorry, so fuckin’ sorry, an’ I don’t admit that very often cuz I’m a stubborn ol’ goat, but I’m sayin’ it now. I don’t want you to go. So, stop this nonsense and talk to me!”

Quiet tears streak down your cheeks and you try to blink them away as you look down at him.

“I hear you. But you don’t understand—you’re not thinking, Elvis. I’ve got to go. I’ve got to go to save you,” you plead.

“What?” He can’t hide his confusion.

“I already put a target on your back. And if Gianni finds out I’m…he’s coming after me. Whether today or tomorrow or a year from now, I feel it in my bones, and I’ve put you right in the crossfire.”

“I can take care of myself,” he bristles.

You shake your head. “It’s not just that. Once the press gets wind of this—” you motion to your belly “—it won’t be good for either of us. If I go now and disappear, you’ll have a chance.” Your sentence ends in a whisper.

He blinks once, twice, trying to absorb what you’re saying. But all the logic in the world doesn’t change his heart. It doesn’t change how much he…

“I need you,” he admits, staring right into your eyes, unwaveringly.

Your lip quivers. “I can’t.” You look away before speaking again. “I’m sure Colonel can find you someone else who can fulfill your needs.”

Fuck. He’s losing you; you are slipping right through his fingers. Frustration fills him with frantic desperation.

“You ain’t gettin’ it, Dolores. I don’t need some other nurse, I need you, goddammit!”

His voice is loud in the small space, echoing briefly before the sound gets sucked into the sound proofing.

“Elvis…” you whisper, eyes going wide with questions he can’t answer, not now.

“Listen—jus’ listen to me, okay? There’s gotta be somethin’, cuz I sure as hell ain’t lettin’ you out there by yourself to get hurt by those goons. I’ll fend ‘em off myself.” His brain whirls, trying to see his way through the problem.

“No, Elvis, you don’t understand! This isn’t the movies! Gianni, my father, the famiglia—those ‘goons’—they are dangerous. Lethal. They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want. And if Frank knows I left, it means even if they can’t get to you physically, they can do worse to your reputation and your career—everything you’re working so hard to keep.”

Your face blanches and your entire body goes tense. “And if Gianni finds out I’m pregnant with his child, even you might not be safe from him. Oh, Madone, I should have never come here.” Green tinges your face and you bolt for the bathroom.

His heart races, slamming against his ribcage again and again. You paint a bleak picture, and your fear is contagious. But the fear of never seeing you again, of you being out there alone and in danger, strikes not only dread in his heart, but a protective fervor he’s never quite felt before.

An idea comes to him then in a flash, and the sound of your retching snaps him into action. Whether it’s terror or the baby, or both, it has you so in knots you are sick, and he can’t have that.

A few weeks ago, he may have been able to tell himself it’s because you are a good nurse, that he doesn’t want to train some new girl when you already know what you are doing, and that’s why he’s about to do something either wildly clever or wildly stupid. But he’d be lying.

He feels like he’s buzzing from the inside out with nerves, almost like the feeling he gets when doing a live show. It’s equally terrifying and exhilarating and addicting and maybe it’s God’s way of letting him know he’s on the right path.

Barely aware of how he got there, he’s in the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and crouching down next to you by the toilet. Not how he ever imagined this would go, but here he is anyway, brushing the hair off your cheeks. He’s so far gone for you, the sick doesn’t even phase him as he wipes your face.

None of it phases him enough to let you go.

You don’t want to look at him, he can tell, but you finally do, your ice blue irises vibrant against your bloodshot eyes, looking defeated and scared and miserable. But still beautiful. Always beautiful.

“Marry me.”

He says it with a quiet confidence only he could muster, despite the pounding of his heart.

You blink in shock, straightening. “W-what?”

“Marry me.”

“Elvis, you can’t be—”

He holds up his hand, halting her reply. “And before you say no, hear me out.”

Your mouth snaps shut in bewilderment.

“Doc said it was early. So, if we get married real soon—love-at-first-sight and all that—it’s still plausible to those without details everything is on the up and up, right?”

Your eyes narrow a little as you work through it. “I…I suppose so, if all goes well.��

A thought comes to him suddenly, threatening to ruin his plan, but he has to say it or he won’t forgive himself for not giving you the out. “I shoulda asked…I-I mean…there are other ways to solve this, less legal ones, but I’d pay for it if that’s what you want. I wouldn’t blame ya, considerin’ the circumstances,” he says almost bashfully.

It takes you a second to glean his meaning, your face going more ashen than it was already. “Oh. Oh, no. I…I’m Catholic. I don’t…that’s not an option for me.”

“Okay.” He nods, knowing he needs to continue, “T-There’s also adoption. I won’t force you to raise this baby, even if it looks bad for me…I-I-I would never do that to ya.”

Your eyes fill with tears again, a gamut of emotions running through them. “I don’t think I want that either,” you say quietly.

The weight of that settles between them for a moment before he clears his throat. “Alrighty. I hate to ask this, but you said ‘four weeks’ earlier…so did he hurt you after we met? How—how long were y’all together?” It all leaves a bad taste in his mouth to ask, but he needs to know in order to make this work.

Your eyes close painfully. When you open them, there is resolve there, covering your suffering. “We weren’t. Not really. Gianni set his sights on me a long time ago, and my father…well, Gianni’s family is powerful, and Pop knew a marriage between us would raise his status in the famiglia. My mother didn’t want it, but when she died…well, I had to help raise my brothers, and I was too young, anyway. Then, I escaped by going to nursing school and managed to avoid him for a while, but…,” you take a deep, shuddering breath to keep going. “…but the day after we met in the hospital, he cornered me after my shift. He, um, proposed, and I froze. I didn’t say yes, but I-I was paralyzed, and he took that as acceptance. Then he brought me home to an empty house and…stole what he thought was already his.”

Elvis squeezes his fists so hard his knuckles go white. He has never been a particularly violent man, not finding pleasure in it like some men. Even in his bouts of bad temper, his anger is usually taken out on inanimate objects rather than people, but right now the rage he feels at Gianni is downright murderous. He’d like to rip this man’s heart out of his chest for what he’s done to you.

He swallows the bitter pill of his rage, though, tempered by the anguish in your eyes. A single tear streaks down your cheek and before he can stop himself, he’s cupping your face and pressing his forehead to yours.

“Never again, Little Bird. As long as I have breath in my lungs, nobody’s gonna hurt you again.”

You suck in air sharply, then your body shudders on your exhale.

“You can’t promise that,” you whisper tearfully. “I can’t ask you to promise that.”

“Well, I am, and you know better than anybody I don’ take kindly to bein’ told what to do or not do, so you better save us all the trouble and jus’ accept it,” he says, and while there is humor in it, he’s never been more serious.

He fights every instinct in him that wants to kiss your lips, instead pressing his own to your forehead, wishing he could give you some semblance of peace. Pulling back before he does something stupid, he gently wipes your tear-stained cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. You let him, and he supposes that’s enough for right now.

“Does anyone know what he did, besides me?” he asks, hating that he must.

“No, not unless Gianni told someone. I didn’t even tell anyone he’d proposed. I just went to work and then Colonel offered me this job and I realized it was my only chance to escape. I didn’t even say goodbye to my brothers in person. I’m so sorry I lied and put you in this position,” you say, voice cracking with emotion.

“You were jus’ tryin’ to survive, honey. No one can fault you for that. I’m glad you got away.” And he is, he thinks, as he smooths your hair. He nearly gets trapped in the blue of your mournful eyes before he snaps himself out of it. He’s got to focus.

“The timeline works out, then, darlin’. Even if people believe we did the deed before marriage, there’s no reason for them to think it’s anyone’s but mine. Gettin’ married cements it, ‘specially with this new, a-dult image Colonel is tryin’ to push of me.”

Colonel is gonna hate this.

“Colonel is never—” you start, seemingly on the same wavelength.

“I know, which means there’s gotta be no doubt in anyone’s mind this baby is mine.”

Your eyes go wide in understanding. You haven’t said yes yet, but he knows how logical and practical you are. He’s got to make you see this is the only way.

“Will Colonel believe it, though? He knows we—I—didn’t take to this arrangement so easily in the beginning.”

“We gotta make him. And I think you continue to underestimate my powers of seduction,” he jokes, wiggling his brow, trying to lighten the increasingly heavy mood.

You sigh. “Be serious, Elvis.”

“I am. It doesn’t matter what really happened, honey, it matters what people think happened. And I’m bein’ honest when I say it won’t take much for most to believe we fell in love and you fell into my arms. Or vice versa. My, um, reputation’s gonna work in our favor.” Heat flames his cheeks, which he knows is silly, but he plays it off with a smirk.

Your eyebrow quirks, but you leave it at that.

He rambles on, “And I don’t know this, um, family of yours, but I’m guessin’ even Gianni is gonna have a hard time provin’ anythin’ if you’re married to one of the most famous men in the world. I can’t imagine even the mob will try an’ steal ya out from under me, so to speak. Not with our ‘love story’ pasted across the world in black and white for all to see. It keeps you and the baby safe.”

You go quiet and still, and he can see the wheels in your head turning. “I…okay. Maybe, just maybe, you’re on to something,” you finally relent.

His heart jumps and he can’t help the proud grin spreading across his face from your almost-praise.

“But Elvis, this is too much to ask of you. This is your life. I know you had no plans to get married, at least anytime soon—”

“Plans change,” he throws back, quickly and a little too adamantly.

“Not like this.”

“Things changed the minute I got this diagnosis, honey,” he adds soberly.

You go quiet, as though with everything going on you forgot what you were doing here in the first place.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” you apologize.

Elvis shrugs it off. But he doesn’t want your pity. No, he wants you safe, and he wants you to stay. And he’s man enough to admit this isn’t all for your benefit. He’s being selfish here, too, because, somehow, you’ve wrapped yourself around his heart and the idea of you ever leaving him fills him with despair.

You continue, “I hear what you’re saying, I do, but, Elvis, I’m afraid you’re not thinking this through entirely. You’re offering to raise another man’s child as your own, offering to marry someone who you don’t love…there’s no going back from that, especially when there’s a child involved.”

He swallows thickly, but not because he’s in doubt. Anything but. The image in his head of you smiling and laughing as he plays with the baby, of early morning whispers of love and sharing a bed in more than just name, of you helping fill the rooms of this damn mansion he bought for his mama with gorgeous blue-eyed children…it is so enticing and so close he can’t bear to think what might happen if you don’t say yes.

I love you.

And even if you can only give your trust in him to keep you safe and help raise your child and nothing else, he would still rather have you at his side and love you in secret than not have you at all.

God, how I love you.

If he let the words fall out of his mouth right now, would you agree, or would they send you running?

He can’t chance it. Not with the state you’re in now. So he steels himself instead, using the charm God gave him to get you to understand.

“Honey, I know what you’re sayin’, and it don’t change a thing.”

Those eyes of yours go wide, and he can tell there’s something you’re debating on sharing. A few moments pass while he lets you deliberate.

“Elvis, you need to know before…,” you trail off. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “This is it for me. Maybe it’s old fashioned, but with my beliefs, even in this insane situation, this wouldn’t be temporary. Gianni, my father…it’s possible they’ll never stop trying to get to me. And in my world, marriage is forever. Divorce is not an option. I…I can’t bear to think I’m the one ever keeping you from true happiness, from a love and children of your own. Instead, you’re getting a sullied wife who shackled you in a moment of need and who you’ll come to regret. I can’t have you regret me, Elvis.” Tears pool in your eyes and if he wasn’t already on his knees, he thinks this would have brought him there.

This is a tipping point, just like the moment the doctor handed him his diagnosis. Nothing will be the same after today, for either of you. God has a plan, he’d thought when you’d shown back up in his hospital room at just the right moment, and it hits him now—he swears on his dear mama—it was all leading to this.

“There’s no me without you anymore, darlin’. Who else is gonna take care of me? Who else can I trust with my life? I’m helping you and your baby, yes, but you’re keeping me alive, too. And you aren’t ‘sullied’,” he says with more conviction than he’s said anything before, his voice trembling with all the words he cannot say to you yet. He can only pray you see him, too.

The welling tears in your eyes overflow once more, and it cuts him to not know what you’re thinking, to think he’s the one making you cry this time.

“Don’t be sad, honey, please,” he whispers, begs. “I can’t bear to make you cry.” Unable to stop himself, he brushes your cheeks with his fingers, cupping one in his hand.

The way you lean into him is so slight he might be imagining it, but it’s enough to give him an ounce of hope, one he latches onto immediately.

“I’m not crying because I’m sad, not about you anyway. I’m crying because I can’t believe you’re willing to do this for me. You hardly know me,” you weep.

“I know enough.” And I’d do anything for you.

You close your eyes, dark lashes clumped with tears fanning across your cheeks. “Can you…can you give me a minute?” you say, not unkindly.

“Y-Yeah, yeah, o-of course,” he stutters, his heart fluttering nervously as he stands. Holding out his hand, he helps you up off the floor, making sure you’re steady on your feet before letting go. “I-I’ll be in there, when you’re ready.”

The door to the bathroom shuts behind him and he hears the faucet running. Waiting has never been his strong suit, which he’s brutally reminded of as the minutes tick by. He tries to sit on the bed, but he can’t keep still and jumps up immediately, running a hand through his hair while pacing the room.

But as much as he should be doubting his decisions, he’s not. He should be questioning his damn sanity, proposing to you like that—a woman he’s known all of a month who comes with more baggage than an airliner—but honestly, he’s never felt so sure of something in his life.

Sure, Elvis from five weeks ago may have sent him to the looney bin for offering to marry a girl and raise another (apparently very dangerous) man’s child, but that Elvis hadn’t been handed a death sentence and a ticking clock. That Elvis didn’t know his Little Bird.

That Elvis didn’t love her.

Hell, he’s much more worried you’ll leave out of some hairbrained thought he’s better off without you and get caught by Gianni, who he’s absolutely certain will hurt you in ways you never thought possible if he catches you.

No, Elvis isn’t scared you’ll say yes—he’s terrified you won’t.

He can’t begin to think of the despair he’ll feel if you disappear. Selfishly, he’s not sure he can stand to take another heartbreak, not now. It would be a cruel joke for God to put you in his life and then rip you away just when he needs you the most.

It makes him think of his mama and the gaping wound of her loss that’s only begun to heal. All Mama ever wanted for him was to be settled and happy, with a good woman by his side. He hadn’t understood why at the time. He’d wanted to focus on his career, to be free, to enjoy his youth and all the perks of his fame. But God humbled him right quick, first by sending him off to the Army, then by taking his mama. Since then, he’d spent too much time falling into the arms of woman after woman both drowning his sorrows and in the hopes he’d find the one to magically fill the void left in his heart.

Yet all of it led a path straight to you. And there’s something serendipitous about it he can’t ignore, no matter how batty it all might seem.

So, he best convince you to stay.

After what seems like an eternity, the bathroom door swings open. Your color is still drawn and sallow, the dark circles under your deep-set eyes more pronounced than usual, but you are hauntingly beautiful. Silent, you glide your way towards him slowly, your face shuttered in that way of yours, giving nothing away. His blood thunders in his ears and he hopes you cannot hear it.

You stop before him, mere inches away. Anticipation itches under his skin as his pulse ratchets up. He jumps when you place your palm flat on his chest, right over his heart, the way he knows you do to ground yourself.

Well, hell, there’s no hiding now, not when he knows you can feel just how fast you have his heart beating. You’re probably counting his pulse and getting ready to tell him to relax.

But you don’t. You don’t speak at all. You stare at your hand over his heart and wait, but he’s not sure what for. It’s not until his lungs scream for air that he realizes he’s holding his breath. He feels like he’s going to float away and finds himself shakily breathing in. He knows you feel it. His hand covers yours, anchoring him to you, trying to prove he means everything he’s told you and so much more he can’t yet say.

Finally, your eyes raise up to meet his so intensely he might have been knocked off his feet if he wasn’t locked onto your hand so tightly, feeling his heart thrum against your palm.

“Lori—”

Your finger shushes him, pulling against the fullness of his lips. The touch is electric, zinging through every nerve in his body and buzzing around his chest. He doesn’t understand what’s happening until you’re on your tiptoes, your cold little hand pulling down on his jaw.

The two of you have kissed before, of course, but always for an audience, and even then, you’ve never once initiated it. So, when your lips meet his so softly, he’s taken aback with disbelief.

You don’t waver, however, through the milliseconds it takes him to recover his wits, waiting patiently until every sense in his body hums to life all at once. His heart swells and his belly tingles and then he’s kissing you back, as gently as he can, swearing he won’t be careless with you again.

He wants to devour you but doesn’t want to scare you, doesn’t want to ruin this blissful, unbelievable little moment where your lips are pressed so chastely against his own, using them to say all the things neither of you can seem to say out loud.

The sliver of logic still left in his brain tries to convince him this slice of vulnerability you’re sharing with him is likely nothing more than a show of gratitude, but his aching heart can’t tell the difference.

So there’s no helping the way his other hand falls to your waist, cinching there, pulling you closer. Your minty breath puffs against him in surprise, then he’s gently chasing your mouth with his, unable to stop himself—the hope of it all, of what could be, is too consuming. He can’t stop the way it blossoms through him, opening pieces of him he didn’t know existed.

It’s dangerous, this hope, but Lord have mercy, he can’t bring himself to care about the risks. Not when you’re in his arms like this. Not when he needs you like he needs oxygen.

This little kiss is like heaven, he realizes, because you are giving it freely. It’s not for show; it’s not begrudging or afraid. No, a kiss like this from you means only one thing:

It’s an answer.

A promise.

Or it’s a goodbye, you idiot.

The horror of that possibility squeezes his throat, threatening to choke him, but he pushes it away fiercely.

When the sweet kiss breaks, he finds himself winded even though he shouldn’t be, his head bowed and pressing into yours. He threads his fingers through yours over his wildly beating heart. Anything to keep you tethered to him.

Not one kiss out of the hundreds he’s had in his life has ever knocked him flat quite like this.

“You don’t have to do this, Elvis. You are offering me so much—too much—and I don’t know how much I can give you in return…I—,” you whisper, voice wavering.

“You’re enough,” he manages to get out, not wanting to hear the rest. And it’s true. God help him, it’s true.

You breathe in a little gasp of air, one that makes his heart flip. Then your crystal eyes raise to meet his.

“Then, yes, Elvis Presley, I’ll marry you.”

TW: physical illness (fainting, vomiting), dissociation, Gianni and references to previous sexual assault, lots of cussing, unplanned pregnancy due to sexual assault, brief allusions to abortion

Thank you for reading, liking, commenting, and reblogging! It means the world! 💗

Taglist Pt 1

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