#damage control 💔

[cleopatragirlie]

Roberts trying to whore it out in the back and Bonzo wants to start WWIII I'm crying 😭

[cupidhoons]

PAPARAZZI — A PARK SUNGHOON SMAU (ON HOLD)

SYNOPSIS !    Park Sunghoon is your biggest fan — from the very beginning of your debut up till now, he was at every concert and fansign. Hell, he even has a fan account dedicated to you! However, ever since he became an idol, it's been harder to keep his active fan account active — leading it to become a flop. But when Park Sunghoon accidentally posts something that wasn't supposed to be shown to the media, it gets all the attention 

           OR When your boyfriend has no sort of media training and accidentally hard launches your relationship before dispatch does...

MEET K-POP'S NEW COUPLE ! idol! sunghoon x idol! fmr

GENRE. established relationship, idol! au, fluff, romance, comedy, down bad! bf x baddie! gf

WARNINGS.  profanity, death threats/dying jokes, misspellings, toxic fans/fan girls will appear as the story plays out, hoon is younger than reader, some side romance

SUPPORTING IDOLS.  yn as ningning of aespa (ningning is the MAKNAE 💜), aespa as a whole, enhypen, and more!

STATUS.  ongoing!

CUPIDHOONS JUST TWEETED ... hi guys! this smau will actually NOT start until sunghoon's birthday but!! i wanted to put this out as a very early christmas present because i know how much u guys loved it 🙂‍↔️ i plan to only have one or two taglists for this smau if it gets the same amount of attention it did in the og post, so fill out the form below!!

TAGLIST IS OPEN. FILL OUT THIS FORM TO BE ADDED!

PLEASE DO NOT SPAM LIKE CHAPTERS

000. pre-debut days

001. sunghoon is a LEWSERRR

⤷ extra: YNHOON TAKEOVER RAAAHH

002. omg my gf!!! it's me and my gf!!!

003. -100 aura tbh

004. feeling #messy 😈😈

005. wanna see something funny?

006. SHES NOT WUH LUH WUH??? 😭😭💔

007. manager-nim save us 🫰

008. damage control (failed)

009. TRUCKS???? AGAIN????

010. are we jinja foreal

011. srry im not bitchless saranghaeyo

012. MY PRAYERS HAVE BEEN ASNWERED

013. gf mad at me. i hope i Die.

014. ynhoon breakup??/?

015. FUCK ENGENES

016. balling or BAWLINH 😭😭😭

017. #HOONYN4THGENITCOUPLE 🤑🤑

⤷ extra: BEST COUPLE AWARD IS A CATEGORY???/?1@

018. i love my girlfriend :)

019. dispatch a little late but #WEUP

020. we're happily married!!

[phoenixrisingastro]

🔥 ASTRO OBSERVATIONS V: THE DARKEST SECRETS NO ONE WANTS TO ADMIT 🔥

This is not your basic astrology post. This is the raw truth, the obsession, the manipulation, the taboo. These are the secrets written in your chart that you don’t want anyone to know. But I see them. And now, so will everyone else.

🔪 1. Scorpio placements don’t “heal,” they just get better at hiding the damage. You’ll never see a Scorpio truly break down. They’ll self-destruct in private and come back looking stronger, colder, untouchable.

💋 2. Venus in Aries needs the thrill of the chase—but once they catch you, they’re already looking for their next target. The fun isn’t in keeping you, it’s in making you obsessed first.

🕷 3. Pluto in the 7th House doesn’t just attract toxic relationships, they ARE the toxic relationship. If you date them, you will never be the same. You might leave, but you won’t escape.

👄 4. People with Mercury square Pluto know exactly what to say to ruin you. One sentence, one whisper, one well-timed truth—and your entire world crumbles. They don’t argue. They just destroy.

🖤 5. Capricorn moons will mourn you while they’re still in the relationship. They don’t leave when they’re done loving you. They leave when they’ve already grieved your absence in their mind.

🔥 6. Lilith in the 8th House is a walking fantasy and a living nightmare. You will crave them, you will want to own them, and in the end? You will be consumed by them.

👁 7. People with Neptune in the 1st House don’t lie on purpose—they just don’t know who the fuck they are. Every personality they take on is real in the moment—but it won’t be real forever.

💔 8. Mars in the 12th House doesn’t show their anger—they absorb yours. The more you push them, the more it builds. And when it finally explodes? It’s over for you.

⛓ 9. Venus square Saturn can’t tell if they’re in love or in debt to someone. They’ll stay in relationships out of guilt, obligation, or karma long after the love is gone.

🩸 10. Pluto in the 1st House was born with a target on their back. People sense their power before they even speak, and they either want to control them, ruin them, or worship them.

💀 11. If you have Sun opposite Pluto, one of your parents wanted to be you, but couldn’t. Instead, they spent your childhood breaking you down so you’d never surpass them.

💋 12. Venus conjunct Mars people are either irresistible or repulsive—there’s no in-between. People either can’t get enough of them, or they feel deeply disturbed by their energy.

🩸 13. If you have Mars in the 8th House, you know what it’s like to almost kill someone in bed. Enough said.

💀 14. A Moon-Pluto person will love you deeper than anyone else—until they realize you’re not worth it. And when they leave? You’ll never find that depth again.

🕷 15. Chiron in the 7th House attracts lovers who stab them in their weakest spot. Every heartbreak feels like a personal betrayal. They love hard, and they get burned even harder.

💔 16. A Scorpio Venus will NEVER truly let go of you. You will live in the back of their mind, rotting there, forever.

🖤 17. People with Mars in Scorpio never fight fair. If you’ve pissed them off? You won’t even know they’re coming for you until it’s too late.

👁 18. Neptune in the 5th House makes people addicted to falling in love. They don’t love people—they love the feeling of love itself. The moment the illusion breaks, so does their desire.

🕯 19. Saturn in the 12th House comes into this life already tired. Their soul is carrying exhaustion from past lives, and they don’t even know why.

🩸 20. Pluto in the 5th House creates artists that make pain beautiful. They take their trauma and turn it into something that haunts others.

🔥 21. People with Mars in Leo will NEVER forget the one person who rejected them. They could be adored by millions, but the ONE who didn’t bow? That’s the one who haunts them.

🩸 22. If you have Venus in the 12th House, your love life will always feel like a tragic love story. The person you love most? You’ll never fully have them.

🕷 23. Moon in the 8th House people know things about you that you don’t even know about yourself. They can read your soul, your wounds, your fears. And you’ll never understand how.

💔 24. A South Node in the 7th House was born to learn how to be alone. Every relationship will break them down until they learn to choose themselves first.

💀 25. Saturn in the 5th House people never felt like children, even when they were kids. They were born into responsibility, and life has never truly felt light.

🔥 26. Lilith in the 1st House women don’t attract attention—they COMMAND it. People will stare, obsess, and fear them, all without knowing why.

💋 27. Pluto conjunct Venus people will either be the best thing that’s ever happened to you, or the worst. They either heal you, or they leave you scarred for life.

🖤 28. Uranus in the 7th House people attract lovers who come out of nowhere and disappear just as fast. Their love life is a never-ending storm.

💀 29. If someone has Pluto square their Moon, they have an unresolved war with their mother. And it will bleed into every relationship they ever have.

🔥 30. The darkest part of your chart is where you hold the most power. Until you own it? It will own you.

👁 So? Did I hit you where it hurts?

🔥 Drop your placements. Let’s see who’s brave enough to admit the truth..

© PhoenixRisingAstro, 2025. All rights reserved

[notherpuppet]

Whats up with the whole Alfie fucking everything they touch?? 😟

LOL so that aspect of Alfie was thought of because I was trying to consider how to combine a sweet, romantic angel with a psychotic manipulator.

Hence; a playboy

Lucifer has a lot of love in his heart and Alastor has a lot of charm. But Lucifer lacks responsibility and Alastor lacks empathy. In that way, they’re both pretty reckless individuals. So that’s what I was considering when combining their personality traits.

This reflects in other aspects of Alfie, but those other aspects are much more concrete (like causing immense property damage). So it’s easier to control and guide those issues than it is to address him being reckless with folks’ hearts 💔

[cinnamanz]

# ONLY ON CAMERA — chapter fifty-two!

when katseye's main dancer daniela avanzini accidentally throws shade at chart-topping singer y/n l/n on an interview, the internet erupts in chaos. with y/n already in hot waters with the press over her latest scandal, both their pr teams scramble for damage control. the solution? a 'picture-perfect' fake relationship to turn the headlines in their favor.

THE END

masterlist 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆ next

HELP IGNORE YOONCHAE'S NAME BEING JUNGWON TWINOTE WAS BUGGING💔💔💔 THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO READ ND SUPPORTED THE SERIES!! I LOVE U ALL SO SO MUCH!!! stay tuned for the sophia smau💞

taglist : @meganskiendielsbtc @rosiehrs @artrizzler19 @goofymickeyr @sunshinez4 @urmom2314 @meizinisnumberone @yeetaberry127 @xochitlisbest @ssamlovr @saysirhc @nyssalvr @ninguitar @kristalag @1luvkarina @idleyuri @kathleenmikaelson @sed7ction @hazel-tanthamore22 @yazzyminny @vrtualstar @meiphobic @cassiespoiler @yjiminswallet @gtfoiydlyj @taikabui @cceanvvaves @c-yerim @waitsobs @firstclassjaylee @bowforgodjihyo @thepurin @chaepu @bandaidss320 @manonsmartini @haerinkisser @esccecvp @blushmimi TAGLIST CLOSED!

[yenqa]

ADVANTAGES ☆

in which…

on jay’s live, fans point out a stuffed animal on his bed, one that seems to be the other piece to your notorious missing pair. as imaginary pieces start to connect for fans, the viewers beg for some kind of interaction. and though you and jay have never met before, why not use this situation to your advantage?

pairing – streamer!jay x fem!reader

genre – strangers to lovers, this is not fake dating (sorry guys), kind of forced proximity, streamer au, short smau (20 chapters), little angst mostly fluff

warnings – swearing, slut shaming, romance stuff, food/eating, kms/dying jokes, haters, warnings are stated in each chapter!

featuring – jay, jake, sunghoon, y/n (duh), hyeju, fans

disclaimer – i am not saying this is an accurate representation of these idols or trying to sexualize them at all. this just something i do for fun.

taglist – CLOSED, ty for being interested!

yenqa – hey guys! i love streamer aus and jay so here this is 🙏

status – FINISHED! 11/10/23-03/18/24, slow updates <3

perm taglist – @jwnghyuns @ja4hyvn @trsrina @redm4ri @badmuni @yeokii @enhastolemyheart @softpia @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @boyfhee

PLEASE NO SPAM LIKING

profiles

001 – soulja boy

002 – like bluejay.

003 – OUR girlfriend

004 – 93 hour mewing streak

005 – losing hearing in my left eye

006 – The other woman 💔💔

007 – green hair – 1028 words

008 – me next

009 – who is pina colada.

010 – LIAR ALERT 🚨

011 – stupid question – 1019 words

012 – CASHMERE*****

013 – about that…

014 – until i met you

015 – i’m sorry that i couldn’t be your teenage dream. – 1829 words

016 – damage control 😜

017 – roode

018 – Get off my twitter.

019 – mhm.

020 – peace - 1145 words

021 – New look.

022 – happy birthday!

epilogue – just got married <3

extra : soulja boy finds love

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.

[owlwithanapple]

Cage ❤️‍🔥😭💔

Is it worth being happy to meet again, or is it worth loving again?

Content : Adult Content/Sad/Hurt

Characters : Jason Todd x Y/N

Part 1

With the new batch of Scarecrow's fear toxin ready to be dispersed across Gotham, accidents were bound to happen. It just pained Jason to think you would ever have to be the recipient of one of those accidents, especially if it involved a mind numbing trip through fear toxin. It had been a clumsy soldier that caused it, you'd inhaled the fumes before damage control could rush in to minimise casualties. You barely even remembered what happened to yourself after that, only consumed in the darkest corners of your mind, where you felt like you were being driven insane.

Militia soldiers had been forced to drag you to a cell before you got your hands on any weapons - then they would have really faced the Arkham Knight's wrath. Hurting you was bad enough, if this resulted in your death, you wouldn't be the only casualty that came out of this accident. Jason moved through the facility with purpose, the soldiers knowing to stay clear of him or else.

"Where the hell is she!" He'd barked, the modulation of his helmet making the tone of his voice almost seem like it was crackling with real electricity. He entered your cell with the antidote in hand, clenched so hard between his fingers that he was surprised the glass hadn't shattered just yet. His gut twisted at the sight of you, his own sharp breaths thrumming with rage. This wasn't his intention - Jason didn't want to see you hurting. Didn't want to imagine how his imposing figure in the doorway was altering the mind-curdling images you were seeing under the influence, his jaw clenching tight.

But he bit his tongue. Talking might make you worse. He wasn't going to coddle you into coming to him. He didn't have time for that. Kicking and screaming, he'd administer the antidote no matter what, then he'd be by your side every step of the way for your recovery.

You huddle in the corner, shivering, covering your ears, isolating yourself from the outside world. You kept mumbling to yourself, and your body kept shaking. You hear footsteps coming towards you, but you dare not look up in that direction.

The cold, hard steel of his black armour contrasted against your shivering form, causing him to falter in his actions to reach out to you and pull you in against him. Jason would pause, just watching you for a moment, his thoughts swarming and his chest twisted with anxiety. It felt like he was staring at a caged animal at the zoo.

He took a step forward, his knee bent slightly so that he was almost crouching beside you, as he held out the syringe with the antidote for you to take. His voice was barely above a gruff whisper, a soft, soothing tone that only the two of you could hear.

“Hey.. Hey little bird, just look at me a second.” He moved closer to you as he spoke, his hand slowly moving down to gently touch your arm in an attempt to gain your attention. Jason needed to see your eyes. He needed to know how much that damn fear toxin had infected your mind.

You heard his voice coming from the helmet, but you were already lost in fear and couldn't tell the truth from the false. You didn't dare to speak, for fear that you would burst into tears. You just shook your head and looked away, not daring to look him in the eye.

God, this was so much more painful than it had any right to be. Jason's body was filled with tension as he watched you curl further away from him, trying to hide yourself from him. His eyes scanned your figure, noticing your arms over your ears. A realisation settled and he took another step closer. He needed to reach you somehow.

Jason slowly reached out, gently resting a hand on your shoulder to try and coax you out of your position. Even a glance of your eyes would reassure him.. Though with how you were acting, the thought of what you were seeing under the influence was making his chest ache with sympathy. His gravelly voice was still a gruff whisper, but the tone held a hint of pleading. “Move your arms, little bird. Look at me. I'm not gonna hurt you.”

Your body trembles, you are intoxicated by fear. But at the edge of fear, you hear a voice, a gentle voice that is coaxing you, you can't see who it is but his voice is echoing. Your eyes unconsciously look at him, you can't see who he is, you only see a tall and fully armored man wearing a helmet.

The moment your eyes flickered to his helmet, Jason felt a wave of relief run through him. The fact you were seeing him as a figure of fear was somewhat expected, but it reassured him you were still partially here, not totally lost to the toxin. Not yet.

His hand slowly moved from your shoulder to gently rest on your cheek, using his thumb to try and turn your face so that you saw him more clearly. Jason would have preferred you saw his actual face instead of the intimidating helmet, but it was already a damn good start that you were looking at him.

“I’m…scared…” Your trembling voice blurted out.

Your small, frightened voice tugged at his very being. He wanted so much to bring you in against him, to hold you close and try to physically reassure you that you were safe. But he was in uniform. Jason was the Arkham Knight. He reassured, his tone still soft and low. He kept his hand on your cheek, his gloved hand gently rubbing your skin in an attempt to soothe both himself and you at the same time. “Don't be scared, little bird. You're safe.”

The fear caused by the toxin invades your mind and makes you confused in fear. But you can still hear his voice, you feel that everything around you is dangerous, but retaining a little tenderness comes from him. Your trembling hands gently touch his helmet, as if looking for a ray of light, and then immediately withdraw it.

The mere touch of your trembling hands on his helmet had Jason holding his breath. It wasn't the touch he had hoped for. He wanted to feel your bare fingers on his skin, not the cold, hard iron separating him from you. But it was a sign that you were still here with him.

He leaned closer to your touch, his helmet tilting ever so slightly down to get slightly closer to you. That feeling of guilt returned once he reminded himself how you'd come to be in this situation. “I’m sorry…”

You are helpless and in pain, dominated by fear. The cold place, the cruelty with a touch of tenderness from him. You can't feel his body temperature, but he is so warm beside you. Your trembling body involuntarily moved closer to him. Maybe it's the toxins that make you particularly sensitive or... childish? You are like a little bird, relying on him.

Jason internally struggled with his own emotions. This was bad. This was very fucking bad. He was the Arkham Knight. He was supposed to be a ruthless killer right now, supposed to make those responsible for the fear toxin suffer. But here he was on the floor of a cell at his facility, consoling a woman he was secretly pining for. Your proximity to him made Jason want to wrap his arms around you, pull you into his lap, and never let you go.

His breath hitched in his throat as you got closer, Jason's arms almost moving on their own volition to get ready to pull you into his lap. But he stopped himself. He needed to get you better, and right now that would be giving you the anti-toxin. After that, he'd let you crawl into his lap and hold you. Jason's voice was still low, trying to keep a firm but gentle tone. “Little bird, gimme your arm. I've got the antidote right here..”

You heard his words, the word antidote. But it was too late, your senses were clouded by fear. You sat astride his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in his cold, armored shoulders seeking some solace.

Jason was supposed to be the untouchable killer right now. The Arkham Knight was supposed to be the imposing, invincible figure of destruction. But now his pretty little bird was sitting on his lap, face pressed against his shoulder, arms around his neck. Jason's gloved hand almost shook as he brought the syringe up to your skin, his arm carefully looping around your back to keep you in place.

He held you in place, waiting for the perfect moment to inject the antidote. For a moment, Jason was tempted to take his helmet off, to show you his face in the hopes of bringing you some level of comfort under the influence. But Jason knew the sight of his twisted, damaged skin would only scare you. He would deal with that after you were better and your mind was unclouded from the fear toxin. “I'm not gonna let go, even when I inject you. You'll stay right on my lap, little bird. Right here. No matter what.”

Your behavior becomes more childish. Feel the warmth in the fear. It makes you feel extremely selfish, wanting to always rely on this warmth and him. It's like a child acting like a spoiled child to him, wanting him to treat you gently all the time. You’re nuzzling his cold helmet right now and mumbling something about it. “Hug hug…”

The way you nuzzled against the cold metal of the helmet had Jason both confused and endeared. You acted like a spoiled and petulant child, begging for his attention and affection - and god it made his heart ache. He'd never experienced this behaviour from you. Ever. But he had to focus on getting the needle into your skin, just long enough to get the antidote inside your system. He leaned closer to you, his arm still wrapped around your back. “I'll hug you, little bird. You just gotta stay still for a second. I gotta inject you with the antidote…”

You heard him talk about the antidote, and you stopped nuzzling his cold helmet. Even though you are confused by fear, you feel a tingling pain invading your skin. He wants to inject the antidote into you, but you are in a state of sensory confusion. You thought he was going to do something bad to you, you pouted and looked at him with puppy eyes, like a little girl afraid of an injection.

He was never going to live this one down. The great Arkham Knight being so easily manipulated by a pretty girl with puppy dog eyes. “Little bird, it's just a needle... it'll take two seconds and you'll barely feel a thing…”

You leaned close to his cold armor, your face close to his cold helmet, pouting your lips and revealing a fragile and pitiful expression. Use a very pitiful and cute look to express your fear.

The sight of your pouty expression was enough to make Jason's brain malfunction. How could you look at him with such a pitiful look in your eyes? He was supposed to be a killer. He was supposed to be intimidating and strong. But here he was with a damn cute girl pouting, looking like a puppy dog, making him want to be the most gentle man in the world just because you were looking at him pleadingly. “Don't look at me like that.. I have to give you the damn needle, little bird.. It'll be quick, I promise you.”

You are still afraid of the antidote being injected into your body because of the sharp. There was no other choice but to give you the injection. You hugged him tighter, burying your face in his cold, armored chest. Of course, you still maintain your childish side. You keep nuzzling against his chest with pouted face, secretly expressing that you don't like injection.

The sight of you trying to bury your face into his armoured chest was almost enough to make Jason laugh. He'd been called an animal before, but right now you were the one acting like one. A tiny, scared little bird. He sighed, his free arm moving up to brush your hair affectionately. Jason tried to sound stern, but even he knew there was no malice behind his words. “God, you're acting like a damn baby, you know that?”

Jason noticed the look in your eyes as you stared at his helmet, suddenly feeling a spike of anxiety shoot through him. Maybe you were finally lucid enough to realise who you were sat on top of. That you were sat on the Arkham Knight's lap. He held his breath, silently waiting for you to say something as your eyes locked with his helmet.

You approached him but you were blocked by his armored helmet, so you couldn't understand his expression. You didn't feel scared because he was a ray of warmth when you were invaded by toxins. Unexpectedly, you took his left hand and leaned your cheek against his palm, show a very happy expression.

Jason's heart nearly stopped as you took his free hand in yours, his pulse feeling like it skyrocketed as you leaned your cheek into his palm. He had to remind himself to breathe as he sat there, frozen as you nuzzled into his hand - almost like a pet bird nuzzling a finger. He muttered, his gravelly voice sounding a little strangled as he spoke. “You're being awfully cute.. and touchy-feely right now, little bird..”

You smiled at his compliment and laughed softly with a trembling voice. “Hehehe.”

His heart skipped another damn beat. You laughed. For just a moment, Jason thought that maybe the fear toxin wasn't so bad if it made you smile and laugh like this - you were usually so sarcastic, but now you acted like a sweet little bird. He gently used his gloved hand to brush his fingers through your hair, his chest twisting with conflicting emotions. “When did you get so damn cute, little bird?”

You tilt your head with an innocent look. “Hm?”

The sight of you tilting your head up at him, acting all innocent, had Jason's heart stuttering in his chest. This was absolutely not supposed to be happening right now. He was the god damn Arkham Knight, but here he was struggling not to melt in your arms - not to coo like some fool in love. “God, you're really adorable little bird.”

You gently drew a heart shape on his armed palms with your finger. Through this small gesture, you expressed your happiness by his side, because you were controlled by fear could not express your inner feelings in words.

His heart ached as you drew that little heart on his armoured palm. He felt warm and cold at the same time, his insides twisting like knots. He knew he was taking advantage of you, that the fear toxin was making you act this way. It reminded him that he hadn't done the right thing by bringing you here. But how could he tell you no when you were acting so damn adorable because of his proximity? “Are you... are you happy, little bird?”

You nodded slightly with an innocent expression, your cheek caressed gently in his palm.

His heart practically skipped at your nod, the relief that you were happy with him was almost overwhelming. The sight of you nuzzling into his hand had Jason feeling more emotional than ever. He was tempted to give himself up altogether, to pull off his helmet and let you nuzzle directly into his bare skin. But he needed to get the antidote inside you first, before you went back to normal - before you went back to being cold and snarky towards him.

Jason's mind went into overdrive, trying to think of a way to get the needle into you without you realising. You clearly didn't want it, and Jason definitely wanted to keep your happy mood going. Then, an idea came to him. It was stupid, there was a big chance that he was going to regret this later. But it was the best he had, it would get the goddamn needle inside you.

He gently removed his hand from your cheek, using his free hand to bring the needle up to eye-level. He needed you to be distracted first, so he could inject the antidote into you. He asked, trying to sound as normal as possible so as not to arouse your suspicion. “Can I ask you something, pretty bird?”

You leaned in front of him, tilted your head and listened to his voice innocently.

Your reaction had Jason sucking in another uneven breath. God help him, you were too damn cute right now. You were looking at him like a goddamn puppy, ready to do anything he asked - and it was tearing him apart. Seeing you so obediently look up at him, Jason had to struggle to contain his emotions. You looked like a damn baby, he was going to feel like a monster for doing what he was about to do to you.

He had to hold his breath as you turned towards him, looking almost like a lost little puppy as you looked up at him with your sweet puppy dog eyes. He had to remember that this was all the damn fear toxin messing with you. You were usually so stubborn that being nice to him was out of the question, but the toxin had reduced you to an adorable pet.

The invasion of toxins makes you childish and difficult to communicate with, but you can still spit out simple answers from your mouth. “What….is it?”

The way you leaned even closer to him almost felt like a knife to the heart, the conflicting emotions he had about the situation swirling inside of him. He carefully lifted his free hand up to gently brush his fingers through your hair again, hoping to placate you. “Well, the secret is that... I really like having you on my lap, little bird. You're so damn cute.”

If it weren't for the toxin making your thinking childish, his words and the current position of the two of you would probably be very awkward. You smile happily showing your ignorance and happily hold his cold helmet, get close to him and keep begging for a hug.

Jason was extremely thankful for the toxin in your system right now, because it was the only thing stopping you from pushing him away and giving him the cold shoulder. You were holding his cold helmet like it was a stuffed teddy bear, nuzzling up to him and begging for a hug. That was the last thing he'd ever expected to hear in his life - even in his fantasies. “You want a hug, little bird?”

You nodded slightly as you nuzzled his helmet, tapping your fingers playfully against his cold helmet.

The sight of you nuzzling into his cold helmet - his damned helmet of all things - had Jason feeling like everything was topsy-turvy. This definitely wasn't what he expected. But it was fucking damn nice, he wouldn't complain. He using his free hand to gently bring you even closer - until eventually the front of the armoured chest-plate was flush against your body.

With your body pressed up against his armored chest, Jason carefully lowered the needle down to your arm, the tiny point of the needle resting against the exposed part of your skin. He took one last deep breath, his hand gently holding your arm in his, the needle hovering over you for a split second. He steeled his nerve as he prepared to inject the antidote into you.

The sight of you gently pecking his helmet was both extremely cute and bizarre at the same time. Never did Jason think that the -the Arkham Knight- one of the most dangerous and feared criminals in Gotham - would allow a cute bird of a girl to sit in his lap and use his helmet as a damn doll.

You make cooing sounds while you are acting cute. “Huff…I’m…scared…but…so…safe…”

Your damn cute coos sent a wave of conflicted emotions washing over him, his heart squeezing painfully. He hated the way he was so damn drawn to you, the way any expression of fondness from you made his pulse skyrocket. He'd been trained to be a soldier, trained to be a killer - a murderer. He was feared by those who knew him and known to be unfeeling and cruel. But God, what he would give to hear you say you were safe with him when you were sober…

The sight of you being so small and innocent had Jason's eyes stinging, his free hand clenching involuntarily as he heard you quietly mention that you were scared but felt safe at the same time. He didn't deserve that, especially when he knew he was about to do something that would probably make you angry. He murmured reassuringly, his hand gently holding your arm a little tighter as he prepared to inject the antidote in you. “Don’t be scared, little bird. I’ve got you, you’re safe. I promise.”

The toxins penetrate deeper into your consciousness, causing you to become increasingly confused. When you think back to someone, it’s the one you’ve been looking forward to the most. Your mind is no longer childish, tears dripping from your eyes. You buried your face in his cold shoulder and whispered. “Where he is…Jason…come home…”

The sight of you sobbing and hiding your face in his shoulder broke any remaining composure that Jason had. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. But now you were sobbing, crying into his chest. You were crying and calling for him, begging him to come home. You wanted him. Jason tried to ignore the way his heart twisted in his chest, fighting to resist the urge to remove his helmet and pull you against his bare skin.

Your heart aches as you miss him. The more negative emotions you have, the more fear you have. The illusion of fear coming changes from a warm light from Arkham Knight to the person you miss the most which is Jason. You stared at Jason, the hallucinating man. The pain and words that had been choking you deep in your heart echoed in your mind. “Jason…I missed you so much…”

Your pain and suffering, the desperate and heartbroken tone behind your voice - it made Jason’s heart feel like it was in a vice. You were crying and begging for him, crying out his name over and over again. He tried to tell himself that this was just the fear toxin, that you never would have said anything like this if you were sober - but he couldn’t force himself to truly believe that. His heart in pieces as he watched you sob into his armoured chest. “Dammit.. little bird, don’t cry….stop it….”

From his perspective you’re looking at his helmet, but in your illusion you were looking at Jason's face. You clenched your teeth, tears welling up in your eyes. You always regretted not being honest with him and always being sarcastic towards him. Until he completely disappeared from your life, you lived like a fool every day. “I should have said it earlier...I'm sorry...Jason...I love you...I shouldn't have hurt you...”

Watching you sob and seeing how much you were hurting completely broke his heart. Seeing you cry and beg for him was bad enough, but hearing you saying how much you loved him was like having a knife plunged into his chest. You weren’t supposed to say those words when you were high on fear toxin. “Little bird , please. Don’t say that. You don’t know what you’re saying, you’re high on fear toxin…”

The toxins trigger the emotions that have been suppressed in your heart for a long time, and many regrets and sorrows are uncontrollably expressed in your mouth. “If I could go back to the past, I would have the courage to admit that I love you... instead of waiting to lose you...”

The way you continued to sob and grieve, to tell him how much you loved him, to talk about how much you regretted not being able to tell him how you felt…Jason’s heart was broken. It broke his heart to listen to you, to hear the pain and regret in your voice. He begged you, his hand clenching unconsciously at the sound of your heart-wrenching sobs. “Little bird, please. Please fucking stop talking like this….”

Once again you reveal your innermost thoughts. “I hate myself for not being brave enough to admit I love you, always avoiding and saying you are not good enough... I’m so afraid that I’m not worthy of you...”

The way you continued to reveal all your innermost thoughts and insecurities had Jason’s heart being practically crushed in his chest. God, if only you could hear yourself. If only you knew how wonderful and how perfect you were. He wanted to yell at you, to tell you that you were good enough - more than enough - that he was the one who wasn’t worthy of you. “You’re wrong, little bird. Don’t say that….”

You hugged him tightly, tears welled up in your eyes, and your heart felt hollowed out. You exposed all the secrets you had suppressed for so long without any concealment. “If only I could pursue love bravely, admit it to you... I wouldn't end up losing my beloved...”

If only. Those two simple words rang in Jason's ears like a damn bell.He wished more than anything that you would have the courage to have pursued your feelings. That you would have been brave enough to tell him how you felt, to admit that you loved him. Because now you were sobbing and begging for him, confessing your regret and anguish over how you had handled everything. Seeing you sob and cry so brokenly was like being punched in the gut, every word you said feeling like a knife in his heart.

You buried your face in his shoulder, weeping like a lost child and clutching onto his armoured chest plating. Listening to you sob on his shoulder and hearing your strangled voice confessing how lonely and miserable you were was like torture for him. Jason wrapped his free arm around your body, hugging you back. The damn fear toxin had you acting like a weeping little bird and he could barely stand it. “Enough. Just stop now. Little bird.”

A wave of discomfort washed over you, because you saw Jason right next to you in your hallucination. The man you never had the chance to confess your love to, the love of your life you would never see again, he was gone from your life forever. You face Arkham Knight with your most sincere smile, but your hallucination is to see Jason. You hold his helmet and lean your forehead against it. “Jason. I love you. Love you so much. I wished you here, I wished I can see you again. I miss you so much.”

Your words were like poison to his heart. But the worst part was the way you smiled at the cold metal helmet, the way you leaned against it and caressed it, as if you were caressing his face when you thought of the man underneath. You looked at him like you used to look at Jason, at the man he was before all of this. Jason begged, his voice strained and hoarse. “Little bird. Please stop. You don't know what you're saying…”

His words reached your ears. You, who were still hallucinating, looked at his helmet with pitiful and helpless eyes and muttered. “Don't you love me?”

That question damn near shattered his heart into a million pieces. He hated the way you looked at the helmet, at him, with such a pitiful expression, begging him to love you. Jason hated himself so damn much right now, because if you were sober he would be holding you in his arms and would be telling you that he did love you, that he’d been in love with you for so Goddamn long. But you weren’t sober, you were only saying this because of the damn fear toxin. “I …please. Don’t ask me that…”

You let go of his helmet, looking at him helplessly and painfully, as if the sky has collapsed. Your suppressed emotions, the accumulation of toxins, the hallucinations in front of you, each one is tearing your heart apart. You hold his hand and intertwine it and bring it to your chest, this last time you confessed, you won't say it again. “My beloved, Jason Todd. You’re the only one who made my heart beating like this. I lost my world because I can’t see you anymore. Even just hallucinating, you still Jason that I love.”

Hearing you say the words out loud, to finally admit out loud that you loved him - to talk about it as if Jason Todd were in front of you - was like taking a bullet to his heart. Your words tore open the wound in his heart, sending sharp shards of glass into his chest. You were declaring your love for the ‘Jason Todd’ in your hallucinations, like he was the one in front of you. He was the one you loved. Not the Arkham Knight.

You were so close to him, you were holding his hand as if you still loved him. But he wasn’t the Jason that you still loved, that you were clinging to now. You were in the arms of the Arkham Knight. You hold his cold helmet, rest your forehead against it, quietly feeling him, just like you are feeling Jason in the hallucination. “Even if I only have one chance, I want to love you well. Jason.”

It was torture.

It was absolute torment to hear you talk so tenderly, so gently, to hold onto his helmet as if it was a lifeline and confessing that you wanted to love him - to love Jason Todd, not the Arkham Knight. Jason’s whole body felt like it was in agony; his heart was in complete shambles. He wanted to pull off his helmet so Goddamned badly, to speak to you in his own voice - to tell you he loved you back.

The hands holding his helmet slide down to the disarm button, and in an instant his face emerges, Jason's face is in front of you. But you can't see it, you are bound by illusions. You don't feel the cold, you feel the warmth. You nuzzle your cheek on his cheek act so clingy.

God, he really, really wanted to pull away. To stop this, to get his helmet and the antidote, and to make you forget all of this. But he couldn’t find the strength to. He was selfish. Deep down, he wanted to hear you say you loved him over and over again.

“Just once... let me be brave for once..” You cupped his cheeks, looking at him with your clear and bright eyes. After saying this, the next moment you took the initiative to gently kiss him on the lips with your love.

You looking at him with such a clear and beautiful expression - like you were seeing into his very soul. But he froze in place for a few seconds, almost unable to believe what was happening. His eyes slowly slid shut, and he began to kiss you slowly back - completely surrendering himself to the moment.

Jason wanted so badly to believe that this was real, that this was a declaration of your love for him, not a symptom of the toxin filling your veins. And for a few moments, Jason allowed himself to savour the kiss, to bask in your affections and pretend that this was real.

Feeling him respond to your kiss, you indulge in Jason's kiss that is intertwined with hallucinations. So hot, so sweet, so likable. Even if it was an illusion caused by the toxin, even if you didn't know that the person in front of you was the real Jason. You didn't care, you just wanted to be brave and love him once.

The kiss felt so wonderful and perfect, like everything you’d always imagined it would be like, that it was impossible for Jason to pull away. He couldn’t bring himself to stop this, to pull back and tell you it was over, that what you were doing was only due to the damned fear toxin. So he allowed himself to enjoy himself for a few short minutes, to experience the joy of kissing you and acting as if you loved him.

Your lips, your hands, your soft little moans - it was all too Goddamn good and it was driving him crazy. The fact that it was you initiating the kiss, that you were kissing him, was making his heart pound in his chest. He knew that as soon as the kiss ended, you would realise that the man you were kissing wasn’t Jason Todd - it was the Arkham Knight.

When both of you two are intoxicated by love and the entanglement of lips. You finally give up until you can't breathe anymore. Your cheek against his cheek nuzzled it to feel him, then you whisper. “That's enough, just once...”

This was torture.

Truly, truly, Jason was sure that this must have been punishment from all the people he killed in his life, or some kind of trial to test his resolve. Once more, the conflict waging within himself continued. Jason slowly exhaled, his eyes remaining closed as he tried to steady his breathing. “……..Again.”

He was a broken man. Even if it was only for this moment, even if he would need to face the reality of your hate for him when you were sober again. Jason wanted to be selfish just once. He wanted desperately to forget the reality of being the Arkham Knight, to be Jason Todd. Because for you to love him, for you to kiss him, for you to call his name. He would give up everything he had, right then and there.

When he said that, you were already engulfed by the temptation of his kiss and the hallucinations created by the toxin. You don't care anymore, you've surrendered. You no longer hesitate, even if it is an illusion, you want to be brave for once. Even if it is a fake Jason in the illusion, you only want him. You kiss him again, pressing your lips against each other's.

The sounds of your breathing and soft, delicate moans echoed in his ears, sending him further and further into the abyss of despair. Jason knew he should be pushing you away, he should be getting the antidote and putting on his helmet again - not sinking into the warmth and sweetness of your touch.

But God, you were so perfect like this. So responsive and sweet. So affectionate and loving, as if he was the man you loved. So alive and beautiful. Jason returned your kiss with his own, letting himself get absolutely lost in it.

The moment was a blur, and the sound of your voice echoed in Jason's ears, your moans and sighs driving him insane. Why did you feel so damn good in his arms? Why did you fit so perfectly against his body and seem to fit against his touch and kisses like you were made to be there? Why couldn’t this moment last forever?

Your actions, your kiss, your touch…it was everything he had ever wanted from you. It was everything Jason had ever dreamed of, and it was everything he had hoped to see and hear you do. But he never had. You’d never held him like this before, never nuzzled his body, or kissed him with your delicate kisses. So now, Jason allowed himself to be selfish and give in to his desires, knowing that this was all likely a hallucination in your mind, all brought on by the toxin.

You two are making the same mistake. But it's not the worst outcome, it's what you both want. You two are immersed in it, your lips entwined with each other. You are immersed in the illusion of seeing Jason, but you don't know that it is him in front of you.

You were his. You belonged to him. Even if you didn’t love him back while you were sober - even if you only saw the Arkham Knight when you looked at him - Jason could pretend. He wanted to pretend, for just a moment, that you were his. Jason pushed you back against the floor, pinning you beneath him, the sounds of your breathing and gasps ringing like sweet music to his ears.

As your lips intertwine, you can hear your own moans clearly, and his breathing echoes in your ears. Every kiss you made was so sweet, you moaned his name every moment. His gloved hands explore every inch of your skin. Until he touches your most sensitive part, you moan and tell him that it feels good.

This.

This was what he had always wanted.

Every touch, every sound you made, everything you said - it was everything he had dreamed of. The words that came from your lips, the way you whined and responded to his touch…it was all he had wanted to hear from you ever since he came back. Jason continued to kiss you deeply, allowing himself to savor every moment as he explored your skin. His gloved fingers brushed against the most sensitive part of you, making you gasp, and he murmured quietly. “Oh? You like that?”

Your face was already red because you were embarrassed and you just nodded to show yes.

You were so beautiful like this. Flushed, embarrassed, completely at his mercy. If he could, Jason would take a picture and keep it forever, as a reminder of this moment he’d waited so long for. And the sound of your gasp and confirmation as his fingers touched you made his heart begin to pound, and he leaned forward to press his lips to your ear, his voice low and hoarse. “You’re so perfect. My little bird.”

Jason continued to press a trail of kisses against the side of your neck, his lips exploring your skin as he continued to touch you delicately. Every sound, every movement, every breath you took was making him ache. You were so perfect - so damn perfect - that he was wondering if this was actually a hallucination, or a fever dream. Your breathless gasps and soft, sweet moans made his mind cloud with desire for you.

You were so sensitive, so damn adorable. Jason had known you for years but he’d never seen you like this before. He hadn’t realized that you got so flushed so easily, or that you shivered like this from something so simple. It was like he was discovering a whole new side to you that he’d never seen, and he couldn’t get enough of it. Jason continued to kiss the sensitive parts of your skin as his gloved hands continued to move over your body, his voice still soft in your ear.

You were so responsive to his touch. Everything you did and said, every little noise you made, it was all perfect. He wanted to hear more. Jason nipped at your ear, his tongue brushing against the skin of your neck as he murmured quietly. “So sensitive…“

Where his lips touched, it was like an electric shock. Your body is shaking as if you are moaning. You clench your fingers and toes. Your heartbeat becomes stronger because of him.

God, the sounds you were making. The moans, your gasps, the quiet whines…the whole thing was driving him wild. He wanted to devour you, to completely lose himself in you - but there was only one thing stopping him. The cold voice of reason, reminding him that you were only like this because of the fear toxin…

Jason slowly exhaled against your skin, as he slowly forced himself to think. This wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. You were only acting like this because of the fear toxin, you weren’t really here - the real you was far away, thinking of Jason Todd. Not the Arkham Knight. Jason forced himself to speak, the words coming out hoarse and laboured. “Little bird…gotta stop. I don’t want to go too far.”

He had wanted this for so long. He had yearned for you, even after he’d become the Arkham Knight, and to have you like this - so warm and willing, so responsive to his touch - it was like a dream come true. But it was all just an illusion. You were doing all of this, saying all these things, because of the toxin, not because you really loved him.

You held his face in your hands, looking at the hallucinatory Jason. Your chest began to beat with your breathing, and your thumbs brushed across his cheeks. You are very selfish. You only understood love after you lost him. Now you have fallen to this state. You don't care which side is true, you want to be brave once and for all to make up for not expressing your feelings to Jason.

Your expression was so beautiful. In your eyes, he wasn’t just the Arkham Knight, he was Jason. Jason, your Jason, the man you loved. You looked at him with so much emotion, so much love and affection, it was almost painful for him to see. This was so wrong, you didn’t love him. You didn’t love Arkham Knight, you loved Jason Todd…and he knew it wasn’t real.

The way you looked at him, the warmth and softness in your hands, the way you stroked his skin so gently as if you were holding a fragile object, it was everything he’d ever wanted from you for so long. Even if it was all an illusion brought on by the fear toxin, he didn’t want to let this go. He didn’t want to take the antidote, or to put on his helmet and end this moment. He wanted to pretend.

You pulled his face closer and pecked his sweet lips a few times, feeling happy in his presence. A bright smile appeared on your lips, you pecked his nose once more before moving to his lips for a kiss. You are trapped in the abyss of fear toxins, the hallucination of Jason, the real Jason Todd and Arkham Knight.

You looked so happy like this. You were smiling, so bright and sweet, as if you really loved him. Jason knew it was all fake, a mere product of the toxin, but how was he supposed to give this up? When you acted so loving and affectionate, saying and doing everything he’d wanted from you for months? You pecked at his lips again, so sweet and affectionate, that Jason found himself closing his eyes and returning the kiss, his hand moving to your hair.

This was so wrong, it was all so wrong. But the feel of your skin, the taste of your lips, the sound of your breathing - it was the most perfect thing he’d ever felt or experienced. Jason pulled back from the kiss for a moment, his heart racing against his chest, and he couldn’t help but say it. “I love you…”

Sure enough, just like before, your heartbeat always gets messy when he says "I love you". You really regret that didn't have the courage to face his love and ended up like this. But it was enough, to hear his loving confession once again. Just this time, tears couldn't stop falling. You had been waiting for this moment for a long time. You finally confessed to him and finally said your feelings. “I love you too, Jason. Only you.”

His heart ache at the sound of your soft, sweet confession. The way you clung to him, with those tears sliding down your pretty face and a bright smile on your lips. The way you said his name and said you loved him back…the way you said that he was the only one. Jason couldn’t hold back the feeling that welled up in his heart. He leaned in and pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes shut tightly, tears welling up and slipping down his face.

Tears dripped down his face, and Jason could hardly believe this was happening. The love of his life was holding him, crying and confessing and saying his name, and even if it was all just a cruel, twisted dream brought on by the toxin, Jason couldn’t bring himself to stop. He closed his eyes, his forehead resting against yours as a soft, shaky exhale escaped his throat, and Jason whispered quietly. “Say it again…promise me you love me, say it again…”

Without hesitation, you said the three words "I love you" again, over and over again. Afraid that he wouldn't understand, you even said his name and full name at the same time. “I love you, Jason. Jason Todd.”

Jason shut his eyes tightly, your confession like a dagger to his heart. You spoke it so easily, so sincerely, as if you really meant it - and though Jason knew it was all just a lie, that you didn’t really love him, hearing you say his name felt like music to his ears. He was a man starved for affection, deprived of the love he had so desperately desired, and having you speak those words to him was like being given the breath of life. “God, I love you so much…”

The two of you have completely fallen into the abyss between each other. You two kissed each other's lips with tears in eyes, so hungry for each other. Every time he touches your skin, your moans echo in the cell. Until he goes deeper and deeper, unbuttoning your clothes, the two of you can no longer stop. You surrender completely to illusion, while he surrenders to false reality.

You were both far, far too deep down the rabbit hole. Every touch, every kiss, every moan, it was just driving him deeper down the rabbit hole, consuming him from the inside out. And Jason knew you couldn’t have really loved him, it was all a mere effect of the fear toxin. He didn’t care. He didn’t care that it wasn’t real, that you were under the influence of the toxin. He could allow himself to be selfish, just this once.

He savors your skin carefully, every inch of it bears his deep marks, and every place he kisses is hot. Your body trembles as the love he brings is as hot as fire, your moans spread throughout the cell and echo back to his ears. He took in every inch of you, like a starving man being given the first meal in a month. Every kiss, every touch, every moan leaving your lips, driving him insane with desire - and every mark he left behind was like a claim, a sign that you were his and no-one else’s.

Until he took off your last piece of clothing, you were completely naked in front of him. With a shy expression, you covered your plump breasts with your hands and closed your legs to cover your private parts. When you blushed and tried to cover your body, Jason couldn’t help but feel a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. “Don’t cover up, little bird. You’re beautiful…let me savor it all for now.”

His grip is so strong that your wrists can't get away from him. You swallowed and blurted out with embarrassment. “Don’t look…it’s embarrassing…”

“I need to look.”Jason’s heart was racing in his chest and his breaths were heavy and uneven. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, every inch of your body looked so perfect to him, so beautiful. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them down above your head, straddling you against the floor, his mouth hovering over your ear. “So don’t try to hide from me.”

It's getting deeper and deeper. You are intoxicated by the illusion of Jason, while he is intoxicated by the real fakeness. You look up and see that his strong hands that pinned you down don't give you room to break free. You pout showing your embarrassment expression. “I can't even hide it right now.”

He leaned in closer, so close that you could feel his breath against your skin, and he could see every single little feature of your gorgeous face. Your pouted lips, your flushed cheeks, your half-lidded eyes. You were a masterpiece of beauty, and Jason was so, so desperate to taste you. He confirmed, giving a small, almost playful tug on your wrists. “Are you gonna keep struggling, or are you gonna let me look at you…?”

You lowered your eyes to avoid the gaze of Jason in the hallucination, and muttered. “I won’t…”

Jason was so tempted to play with you a little further, make you struggle a little more, but he was far too desperate for that. He wanted to feel you, all of you, and nothing else mattered. With your wrists still pinned to the ground, Jason leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your skin, until he was able to murmur in your ear. “That’s more like it.”

You can't see the real Jason and Arkham Knight, you only see the Jason in the illusion created by the toxin. The cold, hard floor of the cell was now an afterthought, with your mind and body completely consumed by Jason. You heard the sound of his armour clattering onto the floor, discarded, but all you could focus on was his warm breath against your skin and his lips pressing against your neck.

He took a moment to simply look at you, to truly take in just how gorgeous you looked, all spread out and vulnerable on the ground, looking up at him with those eyes. Jason didn’t think it was possible for you to look any more beautiful, but here you were. His beautiful, perfect little bird, looking so precious and delectable. The moment felt so real that it hurt.

Jason continued to kiss, sucking and nipping along the expanse of your skin, his teeth gently biting into your neck until he was certain a small, dark mark was left behind. He could hear your small little moans and gasps, driving him even further into this fantasy, this beautiful, twisted fantasy. He could barely hear anything but the sound of his breathing in his ears, his hands wandering over your body, feeling your skin. Until, finally, his hand travelled lower.

He teased you with his fingers for a while, stroking and kneading your most private and sensitive parts. His eyes were fixed on your face, watching your every reaction, every movement, every little twitch that he wanted to see the most. He watched as your lips would part and your eyes would widen, as you let out little gasps and moans. He could feel you quivering underneath his touch, as you responded to him so perfectly, so beautifully.

When his fingers penetrate you, you twitch and moan loudly. He hits the sensitive spot in you. The sizzling sound came out. Jason let out a low, guttural noise of approval from deep in his chest as you responded to him so perfectly, so beautifully, as sweet and sensitive as he’d ever imagined.

Your sounds of pleasure made his head feel like it was buzzing, filling up with a kind of white noise. You sounded so beautiful, looked so gorgeous, you were everything he wanted, everything he’d ever dreamt of…or maybe he was just insane. When you make that lovely, sinful sound, he can barely hold himself back. His breath hitches in his throat, he can’t help but let out a low, low moan of his own, his eyes shut tightly.

You were so responsive, so perfect, Jason was so desperate to hear more. When you made those little sounds and moans, he felt like he was losing his mind, there was nothing but fire in his veins. Jason slid another finger in, his breathing growing more laboured, his eyes shutting but feel you. “That’s it…”

Ah. You realize how beautiful it is. The fear toxin permeates you, but you see Jason in your illusion. You can't tell the difference between real and fake, but every touch is happiness. What a happy thing it is to do this with the one you love. Every touch and kiss from him can't suppress your tears of happiness.

You were in bliss, your mind completely consumed by the toxin, and by the beautiful illusion of the man you love on top of you. Jason was so perfect, so gentle, and every touch seemed to set your body on fire in the best way possible. Every kiss, every caress, just made you feel happier, until you were completely drowning in the love you felt for him. Tears streamed down your face, a mixture of happiness and love, until you whispered out his name, and it was like music.

“Jason…”

That single sound, his name being called in that beautiful, sweet voice, nearly finished him. He had always wanted to hear his name on your lips like that. Not as the Arkham Knight, not with fear or anger. But said with love and happiness, with affection, the way you were doing now, under the influence of fear toxin. Jason couldn’t take it anymore. He had been so careful and patient this whole time, but he couldn’t keep himself in any longer.

He’s not longer suppress the hungry beast in his heart. His strong hand gripped your wrist and pulled you up from the cold floor. He put you in the most embarrassing position. That's doggy style, you're on your hands and knees on the cold floor. “Wait! It’s embarrassing for this position!”

He pulled you up so quickly that you barely had time to react, your knees pressing against the hard floor. You could feel the chill of the concrete against your skin, and you were so, so exposed, in such a vulnerable position. Jason leaned down to murmur in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “I think you look plenty good like this. And I like to see you blush…it’s cute.”

You want to stop in this embarrassing position , your back completely exposed to him, and you unable able to see his face. He leaned down, his strong muscular body on your back. He lifted your hair and kissed the back of your neck gently, biting your ear with his lips before slowly sliding down your back.

He was so large, so warm over you, and you felt as if you were going to be completely consumed by him. Jason’s lips traveled across the nape of your neck, gently nipping and sucking at the skin until a small, dark mark was left behind. His hands reached up to gather your hair, pulling it to the side to give himself more room, as he continued to plant kisses on the back of your neck.

The fingers of his left hand penetrate deep into your body, playing with your sensitive spots, while his right hand holds your wrists to prevent you from breaking free, and his lips taste your back bit by bit. You can’t stop the shiver that runs through you, every nerve on fire as your entire body is consumed by pleasure.

God, he was so good, he was so-

It was so hard to even think straight. Your mind was so clouded, taken over by feelings of ecstasy that it was hard to even think straight anymore. The way he touched you, the way he marked your skin, so possessive and careful all at the same time…it was overwhelming. You wanted to see his face, to look into his eyes and lose yourself in that familiar shade of blue, to see the smile on his lips…

He moves his fingers behind you until you squirt. You have never felt such shame and excitement before, coupled with the invasion of fear toxins and the hallucination of Jason. The mixture of feelings, pleasure and shame, the fear toxin and the hallucination of the man you loved above you-

It was too much, too overwhelming.

You could hardly see straight anymore, and every sound out of your mouth was a whimper or a moan of ecstasy, the pleasure coursing through you in waves. And yet, you were begging for more, begging for him to keep going, even as the feeling was almost too much to bear.

You hear a dripping sound coming from behind. It's your love juice dripping. It's so embarrassing. You’re so embarrassed, so red in the face…you can’t believe that you’re making those sounds, that you sound so messy, so…needy. He feels amazing, his fingers feel amazing, the way he’s marking up your back is amazing, it’s all so amazing and you can’t help it, you’re making all sorts of embarrassing sounds…and now you were even making dripping sounds, it’s so embarrassing…yet, you can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop.

When you look back, you see him slowly removing his fingers, his gaze and expression filled with satisfaction. You try to look away, to hide your red face, but it’s so hard when he looks so happy, so satisfied. And when he licks the mess that’s on his fingers, you feel yourself get even more embarrassed. This whole situation is embarrassing.

The toxin was making this so intense, so extreme, every single reaction, every single emotion…it was all magnified tenfold. And it was hard to believe that it was all just an illusion. It was so hard to tell the difference between real and fake when your mind was so clouded, when you were so distracted by every single movement and touch.

It just felt so real, so right, to be in his touch and beneath him, it was hard to think of it as fake. And the way he looked at you, it was like he was absolutely starving for you. His voice was so hoarse, a rough whisper in your ear. “You look so pretty like this, you know that?”

The toxin was making this all too extreme, your mind reeling and thoughts all over the place as you were consumed by pleasure. “Ugh…Jason…”

“You always look so pretty, but you look so pretty when you’re like this…”He was hovering over you, his fingers roaming over your skin, leaving behind a trail of heat and small marks. There was something almost possessive in the way he touched you, as if you were his. His eyes were drinking in your expression, watching the different expressions of pleasure and embarrassment you were making.

You could see it in his eyes, the hunger, an almost wild look of desire. His gaze was fixated on you, his hands running up and down your body, so slow and careful. He knew that you were drowning, completely consumed in the pleasure he was giving you, drowning in the fear toxin and in him.

You thought it was over, but suddenly something thick and strong went in smoothly because of the nourishment of your love juice. It was his dick that started moving roughly bumping inside. He didn’t give you any chance to rest, because the monster is craving you, in very hunger form.

You can't break free because his strong right hand press your wrists to prevent you from breaking free. You can only let him do whatever he wants. You feel the toxin and hallucinations, your senses are becoming more and more sensitive. His dick is so huge that it fills you up, leaving no room inside you.

Experienced intense entanglement, each of you bears each other's marks, your scratches and his bites. Your sweat is tightly attached to each other's skin, and your moans spread throughout the cell, releasing yourselves without any concealment. Until the end, you felt a little pain because Jason injected the antidote into your body and you fell into unconscious.

You felt yourself slowly drift into the darkness, slowly losing touch with the world around you. But before you were fully unconscious, you felt a slight pinch, and a warm feeling spreading through your body. The toxin was being counteracted, the illusion of Jason slowly fading away. You felt like you wanted to hold onto him tighter, to keep that sweet, beautiful illusion with you, but darkness took you before you could do anything. “Don’t…leave…me…Jason…”

That was the last thing you could mutter as you were pulled into the deep darkness of the coma, into the dark void of unconsciousness. If only you could stay with him in the illusion, if only you could keep pretending that he was real, that he was holding you and caressing you and marking your body with his touch…But Jason could only watch you fall into the deep sleep that the antidote had given you.

— Part 1 The End —

Read it on AO3 owlwithanapple

Like and Repost to motivate me

[followthebluebell]

ear mites can do that!? poor kitties 🥺💔

Yes. Polly's exact condition is called a 'cauliflower ear'. It's basically a type of scar.

Basically, here's what happens: a cat suffers some sort of injury to their ear. In this case, it was untreated ear mites; Polly kept scratching herself to alleviate the itching from the ear mites to the point of injuring the ear. This caused a hematoma, which is a swelling of blood and fluids in the ear flap.

If a vet had been aware of this, they could have stepped in and healed the damage by draining the hematoma. Occasionally buttons are sewn into the ears to put them back into the proper shape (which... LOOKS very brutal, ngl). But, since it went untreated, the ear curled on itself due to the accumulation of scar tissue.

At this point, it's never going to go back to shape. She'll just be an extra special kitty who requires some extra help keeping her ears cleaned.

It can also be caused by fights with other cats, severe ear infections, ingrown ear hairs... in very fluffy dogs with hairy ears (like poodles) hematomas can be caused by severe mats on their ears, especially if they develop on the tips. In this case, what happens is the mats pull the skin away from the internal cartilage, which again will cause that same scarring and fluid accumulation to develop.

Hematomas are very easy to prevent by keeping fleas and ear mites under control, keeping your animal groomed, and treating ear infections promptly.

[professional-girlkisser]

Dubai loumand

tw: mention of s*icide and r*pe

I actually, unironically, like Dubai loumand. I looove the aesthetic, from the dark, corporate (?) clothing to the grey, post-apocalyptic, doomed house/ tomb. (one day i will have the words to articulate how much this aesthetic means to me 🤞🏽). Second, I love their fuckedupedness. Their brand of mess is my favourite brand! Third, I don't think Armand has as much control over Louis in Dubai as ppl think.

We see them making decisions together, e.g., what to do with the empty wall, how to handle Daniel/ the interview, etc. Armand doesn't keep Louis locked in the penthouse but he does make it so Louis doesn't want to leave. Or better yet, so Louis doesn't think it's safe to leave.

Armand vehemently opposes the interview but he still lets it happen. And then he hovers around to monitor it. That's how Armand exerts control in Dubai. His control is not total, it's around the edges. Like a parent building a sandbox for their child. This is why it's so fucked up. He's treating Louis like an owned, kept thing. But...I think he's doing it out of some good intention. Out of love (controversial ik).

Armand takes on (more) control of the relationship after the san fran incident. Its implied that before that he mostly let Louis do whatever he wanted - disappear for periods of time, fuck and kill loads of men, get high on drugs - but that incident was the worst of it. Louis tried to commit s*icide and Armand revealed his worst self (the gremlin). So he erased that memory as a fresh start but also to maintain a specific, positive image of himself for Louis (the nurse). I don't think he'd ever erased Louis' memories before this incident idk.

Anyway, Louis does have some independence in Dubai and he does imo voluntarily cede some control to Armand. And Armand is literally on suicide watch. Which is why he controls the env around Louis; to keep out any potential triggers (of which the interview is a HUGE one). We see this in 2x01 when Armand asks Louis to take a break. Louis refuses. Daniel thinks Armand is only asking bc he's hiding sth (which of course he is). Armand leaves them and then later Daniel is like yeah Armand was right, Louis should've taken that break. We also see it in 1x02 when Daniel asks (demands really) for the torn out diary pages detailing Claudia's r*pe (💔). Louis snaps and makes Daniel's hand shake violently. Armand rushes in and places a hand on Louis' shoulder to calm him down.

Throughout the interview, Armand is constantly doing damage control for Louis while making sure it's not too much for him. And Louis does the same thing when they get to Armand's part of the story. They're constantly exchanging soft touches and glances to calm each other down and it's soo fucking cute i could cry 😭

So to summarize, I don't think Armand's control is total or completely out of self interest. He's of course trying to preserve his own self-image as well as this facade of a happy/ functional marriage but I also think he's doing it out of a (*daniel voice*) fucked up idea about love.

[missmaywemeetagain]

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

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

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 @littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

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@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

[bunbunsheart]

Hi hii!! Relatively new here so I’d like to hear you talk about indigo’s dynamic between geto and gojo! (Free gush pass :]c)

hello! :DD tysm for the gush pass <33 here's a little relationship chart i made. i have two timelines in my head

the canon timeline in which his relationship with both looks like this (simplified)

and the timeline where geto never leaves/defects from jujutsu society in which they are polycule

now onto the long more detailed version under the cut cause it may have gotten a little long since i added the context of indigo's backstory so their dynamic can be understood better 👉👈

Basically Indigo was both Satoru's and Suguru's classmate back in high school. The way they met was that indigo accidentally stumbled upon a mission they were both doing in which they had to exorcise a special grade curse (the curse was close to Indigo's high school at the time), but indigo ended up causing an accident that led to many damaged buildings so the higher ups at jujutsu tech had to get involved.

They were gonna punish indigo for causing such a scene and possibly endangering normal civilians but they offered him the option to study at tokyo jujutsu high cause they were interested in his cursed technique (since his cursed technique basically made him a special grade sorcerer, they kinda saw a kid easy to manipulate into working for them), they lured him with money cause they knew indigo's family was having a bad time financially so he accepted and thus he was put in the same class as gojo, geto and shoko :b!

Both Suguru and Satoru were tasked with keeping an eye on indigo on missions (since they were constantly assigned to missions together cause the three were special grade sorcerers) which at first they hated cause indigo had such a horrible control of his cursed technique and it always resulted in him passing out, but as time went by they warmed up to him and started to rlly like spending time with each other, they both ended up crushing hardcore on indigo but indigo didn't really seem to reciprocate (in reality he did he, he was just a little overwhelmed with all the attention he was receiving from the two)

Fast forward and the star plasma vessel/toji accident happened where indigo wasn't present cause the higher ups had assigned him a different mission on that day, this kinda marked a point were the three distanced themselves from each other, gojo was too busy perfecting his cursed technique and always being sent on different missions, and so were indigo and geto it was missions back to back and they barely had time to really spend time with each other and there was barely any communication from the three of them which ultimately ended up on suguru leaving and defecting from jujutsu society (something both gojo and indigo regret deeply in present day erm. after all they both had a crush on suguru and they failed him as a friend </3)

Indigo and Gojo after they resolved their ahem. lack of communication with each other (shortly after becoming coworkers) started dating, they are both the type of couple that you don't wanna be around cause they're super lovey dovey (mostly on gojo's end cause he loves to embarass indigo, since he is the most reserved of the two) he can never seem to keep his hands to himself when hes around indigo 💔

Indigo and Geto on the other hand is a little more complicated, they're enemies on the surface but they still have that unresolved crush on each other (and suguru's still so down bad for indigo so loves to lure him into his crime scenes), this gives indigo a moral crisis... they kiss sometimes when no one is looking to sum it up in a silly way (gojo also does this and knows about this, they're like a dysfunctional little polycule you see)

And then there's the happy timeline au as i like to call it where suguru never defects and they're a happy polycule, which is ten times worse for the people around them because they're just so incredibly down bad for each other and they make sure everyone knows this... they're so shameless with each other which makes indigo so embarrassed (he secretly enjoys it, he's just again, very reserved and shy u3u)

[mksbigg3stfan]

Got any Axel HCs? I'd be eager to hear. :3

┏━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━┓

{ 𝐀𝐱𝐞𝐥 𝐇𝐜 !! ༉‧₊˚.

▪︎ Axel probably has a sweet tooth, in my opinion !! It's confirmed he likes cake already, so I'm just assuming he likes most other sweet stuff, too !! :3 It'd be cute if he and Jesse's Gang cooked together !! (Whether or not you think Axel is a good cook is up to you, though)

▪︎ I already said this in my Maya and Gill Hc, but I see the Ocelots/Blaze Rods and Jesse's gang kind of as foils to each other !! For Axel, I'd say it's kind of both Gill and Lukas !! Lukas is a "Cool Guy" and seems pretty noncholant, but overall friendly, so he's sort of the opposite of Axel in a way. A trait that Axel and Lukas really share is their absolute loyalty to their friends !! For Axel and Gill, I'd say it's because they're both sort of the pranksters/jokesters of their groups, but Axel is better with damage control on the pranks and stuff and making people laugh !!

▪︎ I feel like Axel jokes a lot to make light of more serious situations and just wants his friends to feel safer in the moment, and to keep them hopeful so that they have the strength to move forward. It's also to help himself feel less afraid and cope with harder situations. He's one of the first people besides Jesse to notice when something is wrong with a friend, like how he is the first to see that Petra is a little different after escaping the Wither Storm. Based on that, he can definitely tell when or not to be joking around. (I feel like a lot of people mischaracterized him as an asshole jokester in early mcsm fandom 💔💔)

▪︎ It seems like Axel and Petra actually have a pretty close friendship, since if you go to Boom Town or save her from the Witherstorm, he'll give her a hug. Petra seems generally more averse to physical contact, so she definitely feels comfortable with him. To me, their friendship consisted of Axel asking Petra about her adventures and missions as a mercenary, and her telling him about it. At first, she might’ve been a little annoyed and tried to shake him off, but she grew to appreciate the little jokes he'd add in, and how willing he was to listen.

▪︎ I feel like Axel and Lukas bonded over being animal lovers !! Axel was meant to get a pet bat, so I'm going to say that's his favorite animal !!

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If you want to hear my HC of a character, you can ask !! :3 Also, feel free to put your HC in the replies and reblogs !! I love hearing people's Hc !! >_<

[dreamings-free]

just putting these asks about lottie’s book and that article under a cut..:

thank you I just saw someone posted the book excerpt on twitter:

so different but still a sorta weird wording tbh.. like wouldn’t you phrase it "another grandson" ? especially with the way things are (so many people not believing that kid is L's) and also there has had to be several eyes on the final edits before it went to print… someone should have changed that wording if they didn't want people to go 👀

aksjjskk yeah oops! and oh yes can’t wait for the inevitable damage control… 🙄🥴

anyway the whole thing is heartbreaking 💔 I don’t like the idea of picking this book and what that family has been through apart for some kinda proof. I’ve already seen enough this is just another nail. but both the article and the book are very obviously saying J never met/had any grandson while she lived.. and as everyone knows that’s not the story we’ve been told nor seen. the fact that it wasn’t edited to reflect that.. yeah

[whumpsday]

Whumpmas in July #7

Post a link to your favorite whump fic of all time!

so once again, i want to avoid saying the same thing i've said in previous years, and i've already talked about a lot of my favorite whump fics for WIJ before since this same prompt was used last year!

here is my post from last year, with a bunch of my favorite whump fics of all time. those fics include:

Dollhouse by @sowhumpshaped

Hazeshift by @whumpwillow

Magnanimous Moonrise & Savage Sunset by @not-a-space-alien

Of Vampires and Men by @whumpy-writings

Riot Kings by @befuddled-calico-whump

The Dark Side of the Sun by @quietly-by-myself

The Monster of Lindborough by @secretwhumplair

Things End | People Change by @whumpcloud

Tomas and Rowe by @whumpzone

you can find links to and summaries of those in the post linked above. here's 5 more of my favorite whump fics!

🔥 Bahkauv by @deluxewhump - Three friends traveling to the city stop off at a hunters camp to purchase a vampire for one of them to research at the university he will be attending. They purchase something a little different instead. (monster/vampire-adjacent whumpee, rescue/recovery, caretaker new master, burns, torture)

🧙‍♀️ Demon's Haven by @whumpwillow - Summoning demons for requests with a price far less expensive than one’s undying soul is common practice for witches, especially those who practice dark magic. Haven just wants to unlock a grimoire she found with the help of demonic magic, yet she ends up not in a battle of wits and wills but comforting a tortured and traumatized demon. (demon whumpee, rescue/recovery, desperate begging whumpee, accidental whump, caretaking)

💔 Shattered by @oddsconvert - Years of being held captive, under the vampires brutal persusasion has finally broken Declan, shattered his mind. Not living but not quite dead, paralysed in a comatose-like state. Vince decides his once delicious bloodbag has finally reached its end, selling it during it’s final few days. When August sees the advert for the dying human, he knows what he must do. Taking on the responsibility of nursing Declan back to health - though he is woefully unprepared for just how deep and severe the damage is and the hardships that will arise whilst tackling it. (vampire whumper, vampire caretaker, rescue/recovery, caretaker new master, recovery from mind control)

🧟‍♀️ Part of You by @sowhumpshaped - I’ve been thinking about it a lot. About whether I could do it. At the end of the day, there’s really no other alternative. Gena is my responsibility, and I’ll do everything to keep her safe and fed. (undead whumpee, cannibalism, lab whump, gore/dismemberment, tragedy)

⚰️ Another Path (BG3 fanfic) by @asidian - Astarion has spent two hundred years waiting for a hero to come. It isn't the foolish sort of idle dreaming that one reads about in adventure tales, no – he doesn't moon about in picturesque arched windows, pressing his hand to his chest and sighing. But he does hope sometimes, furtive and distantly yearning, in the same way he still prays to gods who never listen, every now and again. (vampire whumpee, rescue/recovery, starvation, caretaking, whumpee x caretaker)

@whumpmasinjuly

[cinnamanz]

# ONLY ON CAMERA — chapter forty-eight!

when katseye's main dancer daniela avanzini accidentally throws shade at chart-topping singer y/n l/n on an interview, the internet erupts in chaos. with y/n already in hot waters with the press over her latest scandal, both their pr teams scramble for damage control. the solution? a 'picture-perfect' fake relationship to turn the headlines in their favor.

YURI GODS

masterlist 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆ next

she's out for blood even though she started it💔💔💔

taglist : @meganskiendielsbtc @rosiehrs @artrizzler19 @goofymickeyr @sunshinez4 @urmom2314 @meizinisnumberone @yeetaberry127 @xochitlisbest @ssamlovr @saysirhc @nyssalvr @ninguitar @kristalag @1luvkarina @idleyuri @kathleenmikaelson @sed7ction @hazel-tanthamore22 @yazzyminny @vrtualstar @meiphobic @cassiespoiler @yjiminswallet @gtfoiydlyj @taikabui @cceanvvaves @c-yerim @waitsobs @firstclassjaylee @bowforgodjihyo @thepurin @chaepu @bandaidss320 @manonsmartini @haerinkisser @esccecvp @blushmimi TAGLIST CLOSED!

[myung-jaes]

thank u for all that ur doing for the boycott 🩷 im honestly feeling a bit scared because I feel like we're losing some momentum, I've seen a lot of skeptics esp on reddit, and people are falling into old traps with hints and stuff which is discouraging them. I rly don't want to lose him (even though I know that he probably won't come back) and I want to support particularly the briize who have worked so hard thus far as well.

seunghan's friend/friend of friend came to the protest and said that he had been practicing every single day for all those months.....I cannot let sm and ot6 stans get away with this without significant damage but I just don't know what to do? esp when sm is ignoring us and playing dirty.

i wish time had stopped on oct 11 we were all so happy 💔

thank u once again!!! 🫂

ofc! i obviously want to try and encourage as many people as possible to participate in the boycott, especially with official riize content! also totally get how you feel with the loss of momentum with the boycott, i definitely have seen people begin to lose hope for any sort of outcome or action from sm on behalf of seunghan because of recent “hints” such as the weverse posts from anton and wonbin, but i strongly encourage and support people to not lose hope on this as i genuinely feel this could be sm trying to take control of the situation and prevent any further progress from the boycott. especially a lot of long-time fans of sm groups (specifically exo-ls) have said that this is something that sm would try to do for damage control! so i definitely wouldn’t try to overanalyze or look too into any “hints” that would lean in favor for ot6s as we all have seen that the boys themselves are for ot7 just from wonbin’s letter defending seunghan with his return, the ot7 love 119 choreo, the multiple “7” hand signs at events, and the fact that the boys were the ones who convinced and supported seunghan to return! with this, i would say regardless of this meaning seunghan returning to riize or not, i would say to continue this boycott just to get some sort of justice for him through some action from sm because, as you said, we cannot let ot6s and sm get away with allowing the idea that bullying someone out of their group is humane or morally correct in any way.

i will also be trying to share some more updates that i see especially on other ways to contribute to the boycott or any points of progress if anyone would like!